Raoul Wallenberg: A Biography in Brief The First Draft- Joe Fitzgerald Black. Fade in Title: Wallenberg: Overview. Fade out. Fade in title: "The Beginning" in white. Fade to next scene. The image is in color, a tree. A small, frail, delicate tree. Recently in bloom, the flowers on it shine brightly in the sun, the breeze swaying the leaves and petals ever so slightly, as the camera zooms in, closer, closer, to the pink petal of the tree. When the camera is zoomed in entirely upon the petal, it stops, and the image turns to a sepia tone, and zooms out. We find ourselves at a table, zooming out from a flower in a vase. An old radio is seen on the table, and in the background you can hear soft polka playing. The camera slowly pans to the left, and as it focuses on and slowly, subtly zooms in on a picture of Wallenberg, and the radio, the narrative begins. Wallenberg: I don't think i know how to start this. In fact, I don't even know why I'm doing this. Writing this, that is. I suppose, when you're in a place like I am now, you have nothing to do but think. And what is it that I must do with these thoughts? Let them float in my mind, like batches of butterflies, destined to fly away, never to return? No, I think it best to share them. And what better way to start my tale than at the beginning? The camera slowly pans left, which, on a dresser, we can now see a photograph of a Swedish naval officer, laying on the top of the dresser. WB: My father, Raoul Oscar Wallenberg, Swedish Naval officer, cousin to Jacob and Marcus Walenberg, our pride and joy, bankers and industrialists. I never met the man, I was born after he died, by three months. The camera continues to move left, showing a beatuiful woman in a wedding gown, framed. WB: But the love was more than made up for in my family, when my mother, Maj Wising, remarried to my second father, Fredik von Dardel. Now the camera moves towards a small house of cards upon a table. WB: My passions dissapointed my family somewhat. I have a love of architecture, and of negotiations. The camera rotates around the cards, and as it does, it cuts to see the camera rotating around the man, Wallenberg, sitting in a chair, all spiffy in an old style suit, writing, taking notes. The camera goes from behind him, to an angle between the side and front of his face. He is in a classroom chair, in a classroom with other older people. WB: I studied architecture at the University of Michigan, in Ann Arbor, the United States. I graduated with honors, and won a medal for the most impressive academic record. I always believe I won it, because I truly enjoyed my work...I loved it almost as much as I loved the art of trade. The camera fades to black, and fades back in to a bank office. Wallenberg is typing, intent upon what he is making. WB: As much as I loved architecture though, my grandfather had other ideas. Finishing his paragraph, Wallenberg slides the typewriter's carriage back into place. WB: Well, the working in a Bank of Palestine seemed like a simple enough job. The door adjacent to Wallenberg slams open. Two people, a man and a woman, burst through. The camera is nuzzled behind Wallenberg's head, and as the two burst in, he rises, blocking the camera with his back. The angle slyly shifts to behind one of the strangers, and as they move to the middle of the floor, the woman collapsing, we see Wallenberg rush to her side. WB: The Germans, however, always seem to know how to make something very simple, all of a sudden, very complicated. The narrative ends, as Wallenberg in the past suddenly exclaims, from the womans side, as he checks her pulse and applies pressure to the wound on the woman's side with his vest, which he has taken off. WB: What happened?? Are you alright? The first question aimed at the woman, the second at the man, the man begins to stutter, in shock. Jewish Man: I've...we've....been running. For long, so long. I can't hardly....remember. The man can't stop from gazing at the woman's wound. WB: What from? Are you criminals? The man slowly seperates his gaze from the woman, to stare in disbelief in wallenberg, but only for an instant. JM: You haven't heard? You...you...don't know? How could you not? :::the man is holding back chocking sobs::: The monsters...the Germans...herding us, like cattle, beating us.... me and my wife, we escaped. He stares at her longingly, sadness and endless pain across his face clear as day. JM: We escaped. We had thought... WB: Escaped, from where? JM: Where else? From Auschwitz. His voice sinks to a whisper at the mention of Auschwitz. He visibly trembles. WB: I think she'll be okay, it's a flesh wound, nothing more. She can rest here. Wallenberg fetches some blankets from a cabinet in the corner, lays them upon her. WB: Auschwitz? The Jew shudders, and the woman chokes. The men both move to her side upon the first hint of the sound. Jewish Woman: Mister...mister.. ::cough:: WB: My name is Wallenberg. JW: Mr. Wallenberg, are you a god fearing man? WB: Not particularly...no... JW: When you go to Auschwitz, you will know fear...you will know... Between chokes and coughs, she manages to start and finish her story. JW: The chamber...they gave us soap...they said to wash... I knew better. People went in, but not for a bath...they went in for their deaths, death by poison gas, the ultimate cleansing. Wallenberg's expression goes from interest to intrigue, to horror, as he listens. JW: In their own perverse way...they are bringing us closer to god....faster than intended though, I believe. She manages a few more coughs, and gazes out into nothingness. JW: The people, so many dead, so many dead... I think i'll sleep now, Mr. Wallenberg, if that's alright with you? WB: That's fine. Rest, you're safe now. The camera shows the woman, now cloaked and shielded within the peaceful bliss of slumber, beneath the now stern Wallenberg. Narrative Wallenberg: The Jew's story had a profound impact upon me. I knew there was horrible injustice going on, but what could I do? One man in a world of insanity, what could anyone do? The camera fades to black. Words, fade in, colored white, "Preperation". Title fades. Black fades to Wallenberg in a library. He is reading one book, from a pile of many, in stacks all around him. Narrative Wallenberg: Over time, stemming from my natural business skills, I becamse a joint owner and international director of the MidEuropean Trading Company, along with my friend, Koloman Laurer. ::cut camera to Wallenberg shaking hands with a lanky young man, around Wallenberg's age:: Using the many resources at my disposal from this position, I was able to learn more and more about the laws and rules surrounding the persecution of the jewish people. ::cut to image of Wallenberg speaking with Jew's wearing the yellow star of David upon their shirts:: NWB: Soon, the Nazi's (word said with disgust), were taking Jews from the Swedish countryside, forcing them to wear the star, and carting them off to their mass deaths. Cut to people being dragged from buildings, homes, thrown on the floor, and beaten. NWB: The only way to become exempt from this, other than becoming a concubine of some sort, was to obtain a Swedish Provisional Pass, a passport which allowed the bearer to be considered a Swedish citizen, and not justiiable to wear the yellow star. The camera shows one man being grabbed by the collar by an angry German, and as he is pushed up against a wall, he pulls out a small paper, a passport. The german spits in the man's face, and lets him go. NWB: In 1944, the USA established the War Refugee Board, an organization dedicated to saving Jews from Nazi cruelty and persecution. Soon, the WRB took notice of Sweden's efforts to save Jews, and with that, find someone cray enough to lead an extensive rescue operation. For this, the WRB representative in stockholm held a meeting of prominent Swedish Jews of which to decide, who among men would try to save them. Cut to a room with a long table down the center. Around it, haggard men, clean cut men, all arguing across the table. Among the men, is the one runaway Jew from the earlier scene, sitting next to him is Koloman Lauer. Well dressed man #1: Folke Bernadotte! He's the man to save us, if anyone. He's got royalty in his blood, relative to the king is he. Man #2: And he's chairman of the swedish red cross! A real saint if there ever was. Man #3: No, the Hungarian government would never allow it. Never. Randomly: Any other ideas men? The Jew from earlier leans over, whispers something to Koloman Lauer. Koloman: Ask Wallenberg. Raoul Walennberg. Man # 2: What makes this man so special? Koloman: He's made many trips to Hungary working for our comapny, he knows the area and the people better than any man. Man #3: I know the man. He's much too young, much too young. Jewish Man, the escapee from Auschwitz: When I first escaped from the Nazis, Raoul Wallenberg heard me out. He helped me. He's a decent man. Koloman: He's a quick thinker, brave, compassionate. Don't take my judgement lightly, i don't dole out praise like candy. He's the man to help save lives, if anyone is. The camera shows each man in succession, looking to each other for approval, nodding in agreement. Koloman smiles, and the camera fades to black. White words fade in: "The Beginning of the End", they fade out.
