Payment for the Holocaust

Each day, Lisa Freeman-Grant works against a shorter and shorter deadline. It’s called death.

Her clients: Holocaust survivors, whose average age has climbed to 81. Her job: to get them, free of charge, reparations from countries and companies that took part in the Holocaust.

It’s a frustrating, byzantine process so impenetrable that survivors usually “will get discouraged or die” before they see any money, said Henry Kress, a 75-year-old who was interned at Auschwitz. “It’s a heartbreaker.”

But Freeman-Grant, who became absorbed in Holocaust history after reading “The Diary of Anne Frank” at age 8, has given hope to many of the estimated 9,000 survivors in Southern California.

The 29-year-old paralegal from the nonprofit Bet Tzedek Legal Services in Los Angeles’ Fairfax district has become one of the nation’s leading experts on Holocaust reparations.

Her recently published book, “A Guide to Holocaust Reparations,” is an encyclopedic reference for social workers and others who assist survivors with the dizzying array of reparations, their requirements and forms.

Freeman-Grant, who lives in Costa Mesa, spends much of her time crisscrossing Southern California to hold workshops for Holocaust survivors in the San Fernando Valley, Los Angeles, Orange County, Palm Springs and San Diego. She has also established a reparations hotline: (323) 549-5883.

Last month, she helped more than 100 clients begin the process.

“Her work is particularly important now,” said Arie Bucheister, who works in New York at the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany. “It seems like the number of reparations programs are coming out fast and furious now--for slave and forced labor, Swiss bank claims” and others.

Holocaust survivors are eligible for a wide range of compensation, depending on the country where they lived, how long they were imprisoned or forced into labor and what was taken from them.

The eligibility requirements are rigorous. Most claims require “proof of persecution” and pages of technical paperwork to be filled out. It’s a tough hurdle for many Holocaust survivors, who were young and lost everything during World War II.

“It’s very painful,” Freeman-Grant said, “and many of the other rules are just ridiculous. I have to tell some people, ‘I’m sorry, you weren’t in the concentration camp long enough.’ ”

And missing a claim deadline means losing out on the money.

“Thanks to her, we know a little bit about what goes on,” Kress said. “We hear so many things, but she knows exactly what’s happening. She shows people where to turn.”

The amount of the reparations--whether paid monthly or in one large chunk--vary wildly. Monthly payments can range from $30 to $900. But for many, the money isn’t the reason to apply.

“Some want to flat-out donate it to their favorite charity,” Freeman-Grant said. “It’s an acknowledgment of the suffering: ‘Yes, you went through this, and yes, we were wrong.’ No amount of money can change things, but in many cases, it brings closure.”

But the majority of her clients have small, fixed incomes, and the money makes a significant difference in their lives.

“One of the best parts of my job is that I can say, ‘Yes, I can to help you, and I absolutely cannot charge you for this,’ ” Freeman-Grant said. “If we took a penny from them, I wouldn’t do this. They get such a small amount of money it’s disgusting.”

None of Freeman-Grant’s relatives were in the Holocaust. But after reading Anne Frank’s book as a young child, Freeman-Grant vowed to live her life with the sense of morality displayed by the Jewish girl who died just one month before liberation.

Freeman-Grant became so taken with learning about the Holocaust that in seventh grade she took a class on it twice.

“The school let me do it,” she said, “but they thought I was nuts.”

In college, she was chair of Holocaust Awareness Week, set up exhibits on campus and arranged panel discussions. Upon graduation, she took a series of Holocaust-related jobs in Los Angeles before coming to Bet Tzedek nearly three years ago.

Bet Tzedek, or House of Justice, provides free legal help to more than 10,000 people each year.

“She’s got the most amazing energy of anyone I know,” said Marcia Josephy, director of the Jewish Federation’s Los Angeles Museum of the Holocaust. “She does an amazing job tracking down the obscure laws and regulations in this very intricate and annoying process. If we have a problem, it’s ‘call Lisa.’ ”

Freeman-Grant has an uncanny memory and nonstop enthusiasm. She talks in rapid-fire bursts, unleashing volumes of information to every question, fueled in part by as many as six Dr Peppers a day.

The right television commercial can make her cry. But on the job--where daily she hears heart-rending stories of torture, cruelty and killing--she equates her demeanor to that of an emergency room doctor.

“You develop a certain level of desensitivity so you can perform,” Freeman-Grant said. “It doesn’t serve anyone if I get upset too.”

The tears come only occasionally now. The last time was in August, when Freeman-Grant clicked on a Web site showing the atrocities committed in the Balkans during the last 10 years.

“The only difference between those photos and the Holocaust pictures was the color,” Freeman-Grant said. “Murder is murder.”

Still, Freeman-Grant said, her job ultimately is life-affirming.

“Holocaust survivors are extraordinarily resilient people,” she said. “That they have survived what they have and, in most cases, thrived is a testament to human strength.”

Josephy said people like Freeman-Grant give the survivors something special, regardless of whether they receive any money.

“The bottom line is whenever we’re helping someone fill out a form, we’re remembering them,” Josephy said. “We’re writing down their names and their family’s names. They are not just numbers anymore. Each person is remembered.

“Sometimes you need a box of tissues, a cup of tea and hugs. A lot of hugs.”