When the Circus Came to Town: A Hidden Gem from the Archives

What comes to mind when you hear the word “circus”? Perhaps clowns, trapeze artists, or the scent of popcorn and cotton candy? That was certainly my association until recently. And I certainly never expected to find a JDC connection to such imagery.

In my role as a processing archivist, I was processing materials from the Archives’ Supplementary Collection of Holocaust-Era Records—materials that had been stored offsite for years and only recently brought back for review—and came across an unexpected discovery: a program from a September 1946 performance of the Circus Blumenfeld, a Jewish-owned traveling circus, held in Berlin for Jewish child survivors of the Holocaust. The event was sponsored by none other than JDC.

Following World War II, around 250,000 Jewish survivors found refuge in the displaced persons camps in Austria, Germany, and Italy. JDC played a vital role in supporting survivors by providing essential resources—food, medicine, clothing, tools, educational, and religious materials. Beyond meeting basic needs, JDC fostered a sense of hope and dignity through cultural and morale-boosting activities. These efforts helped restore a sense of normalcy and belonging, allowing survivors to feel as if they were part of civilized society again.

On September 19, 1946, just days before Rosh Hashanah, JDC arranged for the Circus Blumenfeld to come perform for the displaced allied children of UNRRA Camps, Duppel Center, and Mariendorf-Bialik Center and for their guests, and the children of the members of the American Armed Forces in Berlin. According to a report by Eli Rock, then-director of JDC’s Berlin office, the idea for the circus originated with Max Helvarg, JDC’s supply officer in Berlin—and, as Mr. Rock noted, an avid circus enthusiast. Through his research, Mr. Helvarg discovered that one of Berlin’s local circuses, the Circus Blumenfeld, was Jewish-owned.

The Blumenfeld family had operated their circus since 1811, but like many Jewish businesses, it was shuttered under the Nazi regime. After the war, only two members of the large Blumenfeld family survived. One of them, Arthur Blumenfeld, was working to revive the circus with his wife. JDC saw an opportunity to bring joy to children who had experienced far too little of it as of late and bought out the entire performance.

On the day of the circus, the children arrived in Army ten-ton trucks and were greeted with balloons provided by the Allied Army Special Services. Most of these children had never seen a balloon before—some even tried biting into the stems before learning how to inflate them. Once they figured it out, their initial hesitation gave way to excitement and joy.

Attendees received bilingual programs in English with a Yiddish transliteration and were treated to the full circus experience: clowns, horses, music, and a group charmingly called “Die Egsotische Chevre” (“The Exotic Gang” in Yiddish), and more.

Photographs from the event capture the faces of smiling, laughing children. We can see them enjoying their care packages filled with candy, nuts, pemmican, cookies, and Coca-Cola (generously donated by the company). Army officers personally distributed the packages which were eagerly received by hundreds of outstretched hands, joy radiating from every corner of the tent.

But not all children responded immediately. Some of the older children remained reserved, while some younger ones appeared fearful. Yet, encouraged by the enthusiasm of American children and adults present, the survivor children gradually warmed up. By the end of the performance, the tent was filled with excitement—though some children, overwhelmed by the excitement, were visibly exhausted. One photo from our collection even shows a little boy sleeping on the circus chairs with the caption: “child sleeping among empty Coke bottles—the excitement was all a little too much for him!”

Until now, the circus program, accompanying photographs, and Mr. Rock’s report were not part of our established collection. In over a decade of working in the Archives, I had never encountered them—nor had my colleagues. It was a powerful reminder that even within our known holdings, there are still stories waiting to be uncovered.

This singular afternoon in 1946 may seem like a small moment in time, but its impact was profound. JDC’s efforts helped children—many of whom had endured unimaginable trauma—experience joy, wonder, and a sense of normalcy, after so many years of living without. It was a moment of light in a dark time. All because the circus came to town.