As you can imagine, it takes courage to leave one’s own country, even if you’re at best a second-class citizen there. But my father, who was well-read, had a sense of the political climate in France, a certain atmosphere of liberty, even if anti-Semitism also existed. France was looked upon as modern and politically liberal. According to my brother, my father often said that France was a beacon of freedom and equality: going to France was one of his fondest dreams come true.

The French revolution gave rise to the “Déclaration des Droits de l’Homme et du Citoyen”, “The Declaration of the rights of Men and of the Citizen”, adopted August 26, 1789. This Declaration is an expression of universal human dignity that is true at all times and in all places. It served as one of the foundational documents of the French Revolution and of France itself thereafter. The Déclaration gave rise to what I like to call republicanism, meaning that the Republic is the central guide for the people, even above religion. Much of my own outlook on life and values are rooted in this concept.

This brings me to Napoleon, last name Bonaparte. It appears that he was already imbued by the values of republicanism even though he, himself, wasn’t exactly a republican.

The first laws to emancipate Jews in France were enacted during the French Revolution, establishing them as citizens equal to other Frenchmen. In countries that Napoleon Bonaparte's ensuing Consulate and French Empire conquered during the Napoleonic Wars, he emancipated the Jews and introduced other ideas of freedom from the French Revolution. For instance, he overrode old laws restricting Jews to reside in ghettos, as well as lifting laws that limited Jews' rights to property, worship, and certain occupations. There were restrictions, of course, and these liberalizations did not remain once Napoleon was defeated, but I think they had already taken hold in the body politic. There\s no better proof of that in the fact that, even in the late 1930s, when anti-Jewish propaganda was rife, in part spilling over from Germany, a Jew (Léon Blum) was elected president of France.

You might not be surprised that I know this tidbit about Napoleon and the Jews. After all, I’m Jewish and French (in a manner of speaking). Still, I don’t think that connection to Napoleon is very well known. In my case it is certainly so, in part, because of my background, but also because I love history. History, well written, can be engrossing, even exciting, like a whodunit, because most significant events are more than just dates and battles. And the players are like actors in a mystery, pulling strings behind the scene. I had my first taste of that about sixty years ago in a book entitled The Guns of August by Barbara Tuchman. It held me spellbound.

France was liberal only to a point, in terms of allowing foreigners to become citizens, though this varied in different times, but, as I said earlier, France was in need of workers at the time that my parents migrated there, and it may be that proof of an income-producing situation was required.

In Poland, and Eastern Europe in general, Jews were barred from many professions, but watchmaking was not one of those. Thus, many Jews opted for that profession to make a living. Typically, entering the profession as an apprentice, a worker became part of a watchmaking studio. In Warsaw, there was a community of Jewish watchmakers, some of whom succeeded in emigrating to France and forming their own little community there, mostly in Paris. One of these men who knew my father needed more workers and invited my father to come to Paris and work for him.