On Oct. 15, I will be remembering and celebrating the life of Varian Fry (1907-1967), who was born on that day. His life offers a beacon for our troubled times. We are often overwhelmed with anxiety about our planet, national and international political strife, and the vulnerability of our democracy. Drowning in despair is not the answer. Varian Fry’s life affords an example of the courage we now need.

Who was Varian Fry? He was a Protestant raised in a wealthy family that belonged to the Westside Presbyterian Church in New Jersey. He graduated from Harvard University in 1931 with a degree in Classics. Post-graduation, he worked as a journalist, author, and editor who focused on foreign affairs. He traveled to Berlin in 1935 to report on the antisemitic riots he witnessed. He wrote, “I saw one (Jewish) man brutally kicked and spat upon as he lay on the sidewalk, a woman bleeding, a man whose head was covered with blood. Nowhere did the police make any effort whatever to save the victims of this brutality.” (New York Times, July 27, 1935).

This Berlin experience shaped his thinking about the Nazis and motivated his involvement in the New York-based, non-partisan Foreign Policy Association in the late 1930s. Here he found many like-minded individuals who shared his desire to rescue people (Jews, intellectuals, and critics of fascism) who would be exterminated if they remained in Germany.

By 1940, Hitler’s power had increased enormously. France had fallen and a puppet government had been set up at Vichy. Borders were closed and many refugees were trapped. A group formed in New York, the Emergency Rescue Committee, wanted to get artists, scientists, and political figures out of Europe. They searched for a secret agent who could lead this mission, and Varian Fry, who might be the last person one would think capable of espionage, got the job because no one else volunteered. Fry commented that the only thing he knew about being an agent he learned from the movies.

Here was Fry’s mission: He was given the names of about 200 people whom he was supposed to save. He headed to Marseilles with $3,000 taped to his leg. Although he originally planned a very short trip, he stayed over a year and rescued approximately 2,000 individuals with the help of a network of colleagues. His cloak-and-dagger group forged passports, created visas, and arranged escapes over mountains. Those who were helped included Marc Chagall, Hannah Arendt, Franz Werfel, Thomas Mann’s brother and son, and Jacques Lipchitz. For those desiring a more detailed description of his activities consult Fry’s 1968 book “Assignment: Rescue.”

I won’t review Fry’s life post-war. There were many ups and downs. Among the “highs” was that in 1953 the Israeli Parliament established the World Holocaust Remembrance Center and honored the “Righteous among the Nations,” non-Jews who risked their lives to rescue Jews. Varian Fry was among those included. In 1967, he received France’s Cross of Chevalier of the Legion of Honor.

Among the “lows,” he was placed under surveillance by the FBI for activities in France that were counter to official U.S. neutrality policies at that time. Fortunately, the State of Connecticut recently created a Statewide Day of Remembrance for Varian Fry. This legislation, passed unanimously and signed into law in June 2025, designated Fry’s birthday, Oct. 15, as an annual state observance. Let’s join Connecticut and make Massachusetts the second state to honor Varian Fry.

Lillian Cartwright lives in Easthampton.