Kirk’s childhood was defined by change. Her family never stayed in one place – moving between Cologne, Cottbus, and Berlin. It was when she was six that she began to notice antisemitic newspaper hoardings in her area. And when she tuned into the radio, Hitler’s voice would boom.
As Jews became systematically excluded from society – barred from park benches, cinemas and public pools – Kirk’s parents knew there was no future for them in Germany.
Between 1935-1937, her parents became desperate to emigrate to safety, but all their applications were unsuccessful. Kirk’s father even retrained as a chiropodist and masseur as he thought the profession might make it easier for them to get away. In Berlin, he was only allowed to treat Jewish patients and had a rubber stamp which said: “Chiropodist to the Jews”.
On November 9, 1938, Kirk was woken up by the sounds of her family frantically rushing about. Glass was strewn everywhere outside. Shop fronts were busted, and antisemitic graffiti was scrawled everywhere in eyesight. Synagogues were aflame.
“During the day, we moved around constantly, walking, on the buses, on the underground,” she told the Association of Jewish Refugees (AJR) in an interview. “When I asked my dad why we were on the move the whole time, he told me that on the night many men had been arrested, and synagogues had been burned, and shops and homes were also vandalised and burned. And of course, as Jews have a synagogue in each district, as we walked from district to district, I saw very many of the synagogues burning. That's a nightmare with me even to this day: the burning synagogues.”
In April 1939, Kirk would separate from her mother and father forever. She was taken to the railway station with a singular suitcase, packed with three books: a German-English dictionary, one on Berlin, and pictures by Max Lieberman. The scene by the train was one of agony: weeping children, being comforted by their weeping parents.
Still, Kirk was told she was about to embark on a great adventure. She was instructed by her parents to look out the next-but-one station. She saw them, frantically waving goodbye. She was 10 years old.
“We went to the station, by underground, my parents looking at me as if they couldn’t take their eyes off me. Normally one of them would have sat next to me for a good cuddle,” she recalled. She boarded an American ship, named the ‘The Manhattan’, which sailed from Hamburg to Southampton, where she took a train headed for Waterloo, wearing a label hung around her neck.
Before the war, Kirk was able to write to her parents from London two or three times a week. But after, it went down to 25-word messages once a month through the Red Cross. In December 1942, she received a forboding letter from her father: “Sorry bad news. Mummy emigrated 14th December. Am terrified myself but confident of family reunion after the war.”
After one more message in January, the letters stopped. Both of Kirk’s parents were deported to Auschwitz and murdered.
But Kirk wasn’t like other Kinder children. While most had no idea where they’d end up when they left the anxious clutch of their parents and boarded the train, Kirk knew.
Back in Germany, her parents had made contact with two sisters, Millie and Sophie Levy, who were social workers in the East End, and very active in the Liberal Synagogue in St John’s Wood. Before Kirk separated from her mother and father for what would be the last time, they made sure to exchange photographs and messages with the ‘Aunties’ to familiarise their daughter with her future guardians in England.
She was sent to boarding school, where she was miserable. But later, she attended South Hampstead High School where she would make friends with fellow Jewish refugees.
At 18, Kirk wished to go to university, but the ‘Aunties’ encouraged her to attend a good secretarial college on the off-chance that her parents had survived the death camps and would require her financial support.
She met husband Bob at a social hub called Achtudt, meaning “togetherness”, for Jewish refugees. Busy with evening classes, Kirk attended once and didn’t return for another six months. Bob, a fellow Kinder, who had left his family in Hanover at 13 years old, recognised her as soon as she went through the door the second time.
The couple married in 1950 and had two children. It wasn’t until 1992 that they told their sons the about their background, after being invited to speak at an event commemorating Kristallnacht at Northwood Synagogue. It was during the couple’s speech that their children discovered the truth of their upbringing.
Ann and Bob Kirk received British Empire Medals (BEM) for their contribution to Holocaust education and remembrance in 2019[Missing Credit]
“It was a bit of a relief,” said Bob, speaking to the JC in 2018, “to be able to talk about it, to ‘come out’.”
Once they began talking about their past, they didn’t stop. Kirk spent her life visiting countless primary schools and shuls, sharing her unique story with the next generation. In 2018, she loaned her precious German-English dictionary, a parting-gift from her parents, to the Jewish Museum in Camden for an exhibition about Kindertransport refugees.
The couple were listed in the Queen's Birthday Honours in 2019 and awarded a British Empire Medals (BEM) for their contribution to Holocaust education and remembrance alongside other survivors including the late Ernest Simon and Walter Kammerling.
Despite divulging about her history at speaking events, Kirk was determined to live for the here and now. She always tried to abide by the advice her father sent her in a letter in June 1942. “Live your life to the full. Be happy. Tell the truth. And do not grieve.”
Reflecting on her hardships with the AJR, Kirk said: “Oh, I think it makes you more resistant. I think you become stronger. I think you're able to cope with emergencies or catastrophes better. I think it definitely does something to your character. It makes you more determined. It makes you more determined to get on in life and see goodness in life.”
Last January, Kirk and Bob jointly received the Jewish Volunteering Network’s Lifetime Achievement Award in recognition of 70 years of supporting the Liberal Jewish Synagogue with its endeavours, including education and leadership.
In a tribute to Kirk, Karen Pollock, the Chief Executive of the Holocaust Educational Trust, said she was “deeply saddened” by the passing of a “dear friend”.
“Ann dedicated her later life to Holocaust education, tirelessly sharing her testimony with thousands of young people across the country.
“She spoke with remarkable warmth, compassion, and resilience, often alongside her beloved husband, Bob.” Bob died a few weeks ago in December.
Ann and Bob are survived by one son, David, and three grandchildren and four great-grandchildren. Their other son, Andrew, predeceased them.
King Charles meeting Ann and Bob Kirk at the St James' Palace reception for the Kindertransport anniversary[Missing Credit]
Ann and Bob Kirk married in on May 21, 1950 after meeting at a club for young Jewish refugees run by Woburn House[Missing Credit]