Steiner already was in his late 20s when the Nazis occupied Czechoslovakia, bringing with them anti-Jewish laws they had spread through much of the rest of Europe. His father-in-law fled to Englandin 1938, but Steiner settled in Bratislava with his wife and young son.He was arrested after Nazis seized control of the country, but was later released to finish a building project in town. He began designing work camps and other sites for the Nazis, hoping the Jewish community would be better off if they cooperated.
Soon he had 4,000 people working in 130 workshops at the camps, making an array of items for the German war effort. At lunch, he gathered with other young Jews to talk about ways to improve conditions for the Jews. The band soon became known as the Bratislava Working Group.
But as Slovaks began a massive deportation of Jews to concentration camps inPoland in 1942, the group’s mission changed as well. It decided to focus on finding a way – any way – to rescue Jews in Slovakia.
“We wanted to help in any way we could,” he said. “It was a very close-knitfriendship with one ideal: To help the Jews.”
One of the members, Rabbi Michael Dov Weissmandl, had heard a rumor that a Nazi official was willing to accept cash bribes to keep Jews off the dreaded deportation list. Soon, they had devised a back story for their gambit: They were negotiating on behalf of a fictitious world Jewish leader named Ferdinand Roth.
When it was time for a face-to-face meeting, the group picked Steiner, the confident man who cut a dashing figure with slicked back hair and a golden tongue. Inside, though, Steiner was awash with anxiety. A single misstep could have cost him his life and betray the group’s effort.
Asking the rabbi for advice, he got a most unexpected answer: Imagine the Nazi sitting on a toilet nude. When he arrived at the meeting and did just that, he couldn’t stifle a smirk.
“He got really angry but I told him if you’re angry we won’t make a deal. He conceded, then said, ‘Take a seat,’” Steiner remembers. “From then on, I wasn’t nervous at all.”
Steiner soon became the go-to-guy for the group’s negotiations with local leaders and Nazi officials, handing over cash installments smuggled in through contacts in Europe, America and elsewhere.
“He was the foot soldier of the group,” said Jacob Fuchs, a Tel Aviv author who chronicled the group. “He went out there and risked his neck in actual negotiations.”
Buoyed by its success, the group planned to boost the bribes to save Jews through the rest of the continent, but it couldn’t come up with the cash. Their work was sidelined for good in September 1944 when Slovak partisans revolted, drawing a crushing response from the German military.