I Danced for the Angel of Death: The Dr Edith Eva Eger Story

-Never in the history of mankind such a systematic and scientific elimination of people existed.

15 highly educated people celebrated in the evening that they finally came with the Final Solution of putting 30,000 Jews in the oven in one day.

It's not comparable.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ -Major funding for this film was provided by the Stan Greenspon Center for Peace and Social Justice, and by Reconstruction, the Second Founding of America.

Additional funding was provided by RX Smile, the offices of Dr. Greg Greenberg, orthodontist, and by the following sponsors.

A complete list of funders is available at aptonline.org and dancedfortheangelofdeath.org.

♪ -I was born into a very talented family.

My parents had two daughters.

One of them played the piano, and other one played the Mendelssohn violin concerto when she was 5 years old.

So, my parents had two daughters, and they decided it's time to have a son.

And guess what happened?

They got me.

My father told me when he found out it's a girl, he slammed the door.

He was so disappointed.

I almost died.

I had something called the Spanish fever.

It was some kind of an epidemic.

And a doctor came and put a needle in one ear, and somehow, I became cross-eyed.

My sisters blindfolded me when they took me for a walk, that nobody would know what a ugly sister they have, so I spent a lot of weekends with my mom.

She was very cultured, like "Kultur" with a capital K, and took me to the ballet and took me to the opera and read "Gone with the Wind."

And so I had a very wonderful relationship with my mom.

My mother was a deep thinker.

I am a deep thinker.

My mother felt that she married down.

You marry either up or down.

I became my father's confidant when I was 9 years old, and he told me that Mother felt that he was only a tailor.

So my father became a couturier and told me I'm gonna be the best-dressed girl in town, because I had this good figure.

I started to do ballet, and I was starting to do acrobatics and gymnast.

I was going to be preparing for the Olympics, actually, so I had a good body.

My two sisters were a little plump.

My father was what you would call today a ladies' man, very charming gentleman.

I don't remember my father tucking me in when I go to sleep or read me a story.

I don't remember him being a daddy daddy, you know?

But I know that he played billiards, and I know that he would come home at night, and he gave me some things that he won.

I felt his love, believe me.

♪ Klara was the middle child, a brilliant violinist, and my mother put all her energy into Klara.

So I never introduced myself by my name.

I said, "I'm Klara's sister."

I was hanging on her coattail.

She was tow-headed, blue eyes, blond hair, beautiful.

We used to say, "You don't look Jewish."

One time, in Budapest, she was going through somewhere where they were asking you for identification, and she didn't have any, and the guy let her go.

Yes, it did help her.

She didn't look Jewish.

Magda was the beautiful one.

She was the firstborn, and she would leave the house by moving her hair in such a way that God forbid it will move, because she had to look a certain way.

Have you ever known about Zsa Zsa Gábor?

That's my sister, Magda.

I went to a Jewish school, and I want you to know, that was before Hitler that children were spitting at us, calling me a Christ killer.

I also went to a private school, girls' school, and again, with my two sisters, talented at all.

And I remember when my mom looked at me very seriously.

And she said, "I'm glad you have brains, because you have no looks."

So I was always very, very learned.

I studied Latin and Greek, and I became a very erudite teenager.

I studied interpretation of dreams by Freud.

I had my own book club.

I had a boyfriend.

We had the book club together, and we were gonna go to Israel.

We were very serious about that.

Emerich was his name in Hungarian.

Emerich Friedman was the last name.

When I was 13, I didn't realize that there was such a person as Emerich, a serious thinker, a deep thinker who knew literature, who was very intellectual.

It was not anything sexual.

There was no touching anywhere except a kiss, even though we went picnicking together.

We were lying down on a blanket, but we were never, ever touching anywhere.

And that's how I remember Emerich.

♪ I think we were kind of middle class, I don't remember anything big.

Quiet, small places that we lived, and we moved a couple of times.

We actually lived in a place that used to be a palace called the Andrássy Palace in Kassa, Hungary.

And the Hungarian Nazi Party moved into that building, and everybody who was Jewish had to move out.

So we moved into another part of the city where a Jewish family had just left to go to South America.

And from there, we were picked up in March 1944, when Hungary joined Hitler.

Hungarians are very anti-Semitic, even today.

My father was taken away from us before all that happened.

Some Hungarian wanted to hurt my father, and my father ended up in Hungary like a slave laborer.

So my mother was left with us, and we were very poor, so she rented the rooms in my house, and we didn't go to school anymore.

Jewish people were not allowed to go to public schools anymore.

I know that I didn't want to wear the yellow star.

I always hid it when I was on the street.

I know I didn't want to be Jewish at all.

♪ 5:00 in the morning, the knock on the door, never forget.

This was in April 1944.

I was 16.

We had to get dressed very quickly, and my sister looked at me and said, "You look better naked than with clothes on."

Magda is funny.

She's full of jokes.

She has a wonderful sense of humor.

I don't.

My sister Klara was the only Jewish girl accepted at the musical conservatory in Budapest.

It's very important to say that her Christian professor somehow smuggled her out and hid her until the end of the war.

They put us on a carriage, and they took in a station with a lot of cattle cars, and that's where we were pushed into.

When I was put on the cattle car... ♪ ...Emerich told me, "I'll never forget your eyes and your hands."

♪ There were no chairs to sit on.

There was some benches in the end, and I remember Mother was sitting in a bench when she told me, "We don't know where we're going.

We don't know what's going to happen.

Just remember... no one can take away from you what you put here in your own mind."

We were told that we're going to Hungary to work.

♪ We didn't know that we're going to a placed called Auschwitz.

I never heard of it.

I had no idea.

I was lied to, until I saw "Arbeit macht frei."

That, I remember.

My father came back just time enough to go to Auschwitz.

So when we arrived, my father said, "It's not so bad.

We're gonna work, and then we go home."

That is clear to me as I speak to you.

♪ And that's the last time I saw my father.

Some people died in the cattle cars.

Some people just fell out.

You know, we were so hungry, and some people just gave up.

♪ As we de-trained, we were right away separated.

A lot of chaos.

They wanted to know who is under 14 and who is over 40.

They automatically was taken to the gas chamber.

♪ So we had to learn to lie right away.

And my mother and my sister and I were in a line.

At the end of the line, there was a guy that is referred to as the finger game, pointing to go this way or that way, left or right.

♪ And he put my mother, pointed her to go to the left.

I followed my mother.

He grabbed me.

He said, "You're gonna see your mother very soon.

She's just gonna take a shower," and promptly threw me on the other side, which meant life.

I never forget his eye contact, just not looking, but staring, that kind of a look.

No, I never forget those eyes.

♪ He was Dr. Mengele.

I never heard of such a thing, never heard of anybody like that.

♪ First of all, we were completely shaved.

♪ And the next thing I knew, that my sister Magda came to me with her hair... ♪ ...the hair that she cherished so much, in her palm, and said, "How do I look?"

You get the uniform, and you get two clogs for shoes and a gray dress with a number here.

One of the inmates who was there longer took my earrings and pulled it out.

And my earrings were there for 16 years, so I was bleeding.

And I told her, "I was going to give it to you."

And she said, "You were in a theater while I was rotting here."

But I didn't know anything about displaced anger.

So people who were there longer, they were promoted to become kapos, and they took their anger out on us.

I was beaten with a dog leash by one of them because I didn't speak Yiddish, and I was called a goy.

We took it out on each other.

♪ No one hates a Jew like another Jew, and that I experienced in Auschwitz.

When Dr. Mengele told me, "You're gonna see your mother very soon.

She's just gonna take a shower."

So when the kapo pulled my earrings out, I said, "When will I see my mother?"

And she point at the chimney.

Fire was coming out of the chimney, and she said, "Your parents are burning there.

You better talk about your mother in past tense."

I will never forget those words.

I'm quoting her to you now.

So once we were getting dressed, we were put in this barrack, and I was pointed to go to the top.

This guy showed up, the same guy who was sending my mother to the gas chamber.

I never forget that face, those eyes.

He wanted to know who are the talented ones who came.

So the girls that saw me dancing for the president and my schoolmates, my friends from my hometown, including my teacher from the elementary school, just pushed me in front of him.

And when I began to dance for him, he was showing who to take to the gas chamber, and I prayed so I won't be the next one.

[ Johann Strauss II's "Blue Danube Waltz" playing ] I'm remembering closing my eyes, and it was "Blue Danube" that I danced for the Jewish community every year.

And then he gave me a piece of bread.

And I'm up there, and I'll share it with the other girls that saved my life.

♪ One of the things that I remember saying to myself... ♪ ..."Does anyone know that I'm here?"

I felt so alone.

I felt so thrown out of the nest.

If you touched the guard, you were shot right away, so I couldn't fight.

Right in front of me, they were shot.

There is no way I could flee, because if I touched the barbed wire, I would have been electrocuted.

So that's where I learned how to really deal with the discomfort and not to attack and not to try to run.

4:00 we had to stand appell.

Appell means they were counting heads.

And we were told that if you're not feeling well, you can stay behind, and you're gonna go to the hospital.

See, we had to be very quick, realizing that if you stayed behind, we never see you again.

There was no hospital.

It was the gas chamber.

So we were holding onto each other as much as we could and not to stay behind.

All we talked about was food and how much paprika you put in your goulash and how much caraway seeds you put in your stuffed cabbage, and so we were constantly salivating and talking about food.

In the evening, we got together, and we got a little bowl of soup, and I think it was filled with medicine of some kind, because we were, you know -- We weren't ourselves.

And a little piece of bread.

And I ate the soup, and I saved the bread, because the following day, Magda was so hungry.

She suffered more from hunger than I was, so I would save my bread to give it to Magda.

Things were getting very bad, because, again, we never knew what's gonna happen next.

And we stood in line to get the tattoo, and we never get it, because we were told we're going to the gas chamber.

And then Magda was in one pile.

I was in another pile.

So I knew we had to be together.

So I looked at the guard, and I did cartwheels.

So we ended up together.

We were like an animal pushed here, pushed there, dragged here, dragged there.

♪ You stop being human.

But what my mother told me was exactly what's taken place.

Nobody could take away from -- I had my mind, and I had my sister, Magda.

I had all kinds of thoughts going through my mind, and most of all, that I had pretty eyes and beautiful hands.

And I would come to everyone -- "Tell me about my hands.

Tell me about my eyes."

And I wanted validation.

And I said to myself, "If I survive today, then tomorrow I'll be free."

♪ "Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow."

Never gave up.

Finding hope in hopelessness.

I created a world to myself that they could not touch.

So I decided that they were the prisoners, not me.

And it was just a question of time.

I'm gonna see my boyfriend, because he told me I have beautiful eyes and I have beautiful hands.

♪ They put us on the top of a train.

The goal was that we were wearing striped uniform this time, so the British wouldn't bomb.

We were put on a train so we can carry ammunitions for the Nazis, and I was out of Auschwitz in December 1944, as a slave laborer.

The British bombed anyway, even though we were up there, and so many girls died around me.

My head was a little lower.

And then pretty soon, we ran into the forest.

I'm the first one.

You know, I'm the gymnast.

I jump.

I run.

No Magda.

I look around.

In the middle of the bombing, I ran back.

Magda jumped, and she fell.

♪ And I saw some political prisoners possibly in the train, eating, and I'm ashamed to tell you that I told my sister, Magda... ♪ ..."It's so sad that you look the way you look so you can't go and ask for some food."

It did not occur to me that maybe I could go and ask, because I was the ugly one, and she was the pretty one.

I'm ashamed to tell you, I chewed out my sister in a place like that.

In April 1945, we were put in a German village, in a kind of a community hall.

And we were told if you dared to leave the premises, you're gonna be shot right away.

But Magda told me, if I don't get some food, she'll die.

So I went outside, and I saw some carrots in the next garden.

I didn't have any respect for other people's property.

I was still able to be the gymnast and jump and stole the carrots.

And I climbed up, and here I am facing a gun and a guard.

And I'm thinking, "Now I'm going to die."

♪ And I began to pray, just like I did for Dr. Mengele.

And I heard the clicking about three times.

And then I had that look, that look, like a German father who was gonna teach me a lesson, that kind of a look.

And he took the gun around, and he pushed me inside.

And I had the carrots.

The following morning, he comes, and he wants to know who dared to break the rules.

And I'm scared that if I don't say it was me, maybe he'll level off all of us.

So I'm crawling to him.

♪ And he gives me a little piece of bread.

♪ When the German people are starving, too.

And he said, "You must have been hungry to do what you did last night."

I wish I could meet this man today.

♪ There were good people among the guards.

♪ -I got on a truck in early 1945 with a bunch of other guys that was shipped up to the 71st infantry division, part of the third army, led by General Patton.

Came across a POW camp, a prison or war camp, mostly RAF, British fly boys.

Very thin, but overall in pretty decent shape.

And a lot of camaraderie, hugging, and thank yous going on.

And all of a sudden, I remember one of the prisoners said, "Hey, guys, we're not sure, but we heard rumors that there's a camp for Jews a few kilometers down the road."

And I remember we all looked at each other, even including my lieutenant, like, "A camp for Jews?"

We didn't know about camp for Jews.

-As the Americans came and the Russians, we were evacuated, evacuated, and that's how I ended up in Mauthausen, Austria.

They were going to take us there to the gas chamber, but somehow, they changed their minds.

-Mauthausen was, like, a big central camp.

And when Mauthausen got filled up, these people were put on what they called a death march.

-And in Mauthausen, you go up steps, and when you go up step, all I see is dead bodies.

And I say to myself, "Here I'm going to die."

And I survived the death march, which was from Mauthausen to Gunskirchen.

So if you starved, you were shot right away.

♪ I'm slowing down.

I say to myself, "I don't know if I can take another step."

And the girls that I shared the bread with came and formed a chair within their arms, and they carried me so I won't die.

That is amazing, that if you were only for the me, me, me, you didn't make it.

And they carried me.

And then we arrive in a place called Gunskirchen.

♪ And cannibalism breaks out.

♪ And I see people eating other people's flesh.

♪ And I ask God to help me, because I do not want to touch human flesh.

♪ And God said to me, "Just look down," and I had grass to eat.

Everything is kind of quiet.

I'm lying there among the dead, and we don't know what's happening.

We didn't know that they put us in the middle of a forest, and somebody was supposed to pull a lever, and we would have been blown up.

That was the plan.

And the person who was supposed to execute the order fled.

And the 71st infantry came.

-And I remember walking in the forest with all my buddies.

All of a sudden, the stench, the most offensive, nauseating stench, I remember.

My God, what is that smell?

It got into your nostrils, into your brain.

You could hardly breathe from it.

And then a lot of trees.

It was a wet day.

We saw this, like, a big camp with barbed wire.

Up on top, I remember seeing, "Arbeit macht frei," which I knew enough German was, "Work will make you free."

Very little resistance.

I think there was one Nazi up on top wouldn't drop his gun.

Captain said to take care of him.

And then we entered that camp which was the Gunskirchen Lager concentration camp, a sub-camp of Mauthausen.

-I was totally minutes away, I think, from dying.

-Everywhere you looked in the Gunskirchen Lager was the foul stench of the dead and the dying.

-I looked up, and I saw tears in the eye and M&Ms in the hand.

That's how I remember.

It was just heaven.

-They were backing off, some of them, like they were frightened of us.

We were trying to hand out the food.

Some of them were scared, didn't know what -- And he said, "They don't know who we are."

Some of them had the Jewish Zion star, taped onto the top of the pajama-like thing they had, and he was smart enough to see that and said, "Hey, that's the Jewish star.

They must be Jewish, these people."

And he said to me, he knew I was Jewish obviously, he said, "Can you guys speak Yiddish, or Hebrew or something to them?"

And I was able to shoot out, "Ich bin auch ein Jude.

Ich bin auch ein Jude."

To this day, I think it's German more than Jewish or Hebrew.

I heard it somewhere.

I don't remember.

"I am also a Jew."

Ich bin auch ein Jew, or Jude.

And when I said that for the first time, there were some smiles at the Gunskirchen Lager.

-I don't know that I'm living or dying or -- I just -- I know that I don't know.

It's a curiosity, like, "What's gonna happen next?"

♪ And then just somebody is touching my hand.

♪ And it's a man, and it's a Black man.

And I don't know who that person is.

-We couldn't believe it, what we were watching here.

They didn't look like human beings.

They looked like skeletons, and they started walking toward us, and some fell down, like, were so weak from malnutrition.

"Essen, bitte, wasser, bitte, zigaretten, bitte," that's what we heard -- food, water, cigarettes.

I didn't smoke, but the guys that smoked, I remember, visually, they were handing out the cigarettes and having the matches ready to light them.

But these people took the cigarettes -- They didn't want to smoke them.

And they start pulling the wrappings off and start chewing and eating the tobacco.

You have to watch that, see that, what starvation does to people.

-I saw people going through the gate and coming back.

I remember that clearly, how was freedom was there, and then we didn't know what to do with the freedom.

-We knew then, but Ike had always told us -- by the way, Ike, excuse me, Commanding General Dwight D. Eisenhower -- and he said, "If you guys didn't know what you were fighting for before or who you were fighting, now you know.

You are fighting evil."

-And I was one of the last ones to be liberated on May 4, 1945.

♪ When I was liberated, and I was put in a cast.

♪ And I got up in the morning, and my parents were not coming back, reality hit me, and I became suicidal, because I didn't say what, I said what for.

I had nothing to get up for.

In Auschwitz, I still had the hope that I will see my parents and Emerich.

And then they took me to another place for recovery.

My sister and some others were able to find a German apartment.

And my sister put me in a crib.

♪ In the middle of the night, a drunken GI is picking me up.

I was gonna be raped by a GI.

And I don't speak English, but the other GI says to him one word, "Baby."

♪ And I was screaming in Hungarian, "I don't want to be touched," you know, "I want to be a virgin," and this kind of thing.

So he threw me down, and he took a gun and shot -- There was a big piece of furniture.

He shot that and left.

And the following morning, he came back to apologize and brought me American little cans of food that you get in the military.

And one of them said ham with honey, and I'm thinking, "Ham with -- What are they eating, those people?"

♪ We were coming from Vienna to Prague.

We get off the train.

We're walking on a street.

I see a big placard with advertisements, with my sister holding the violin and giving a concert at such-and-such a date.

And I found out she's alive.

And we ended up coming to my hometown, and she was there waiting for us, and she became my mother.

♪ And she would introduce me, "My little one."

She had tremendous survivors guilt.

She thought if she would have been with us in Auschwitz, our mother wouldn't have died.

And my sister had a breakdown, breakdown.

She put some things in her mind that wasn't so.

In Auschwitz, I would close my eyes and think I was with Emerich.

At night, I was dancing.

It's like I was a very successful schizophrenic, because he said, "You have beautiful eyes," and I'll never forget that.

That was the first thing I was looking for when I came home.

I ran into his place.

The whole family was wiped out.

My boyfriend was shot, I was told, a day before liberation.

♪ This was the time when the survivors wanted a sense of belonging, so we met each other, and we married people who we didn't know.

I meet Bela.

He's 27 years old.

I am 17.

And he totally ignored me.

And I'm thinking, "A Hungarian cynical man."

I didn't like him at all.

But when we get off the train, he finally looks at me and asks me the typical question everybody asked -- "What did you do before the war?"

♪ And I was so pissed.

I looked him, and I said, "I was a ballerina," and I did a split right in front of him.

[ Claps hands ] And we got married November 1946.

I become pregnant.

I go to the doctor, and he says he's scheduling an abortion, because I'm too weak.

He comes to the house and wants to convince me that I'm too young.

And I'm a survivor.

I look at the doctor, I say, "Sir, I want to give life.

Good night."

And, thank God, I had a little girl, like a 10-pounder.

I could have had a horse doctor.

She became everything to me.

And I spent a lot of time alone, because my husband took over the grandfather's business.

And so I didn't know anything about motherhood.

You know, I became a mother when I needed a mother.

Everything was upside-down.

And I didn't realize that I married a man who belonged to one of the wealthiest families, but I didn't know that.

I married him because he bought me Hungarian salami and Swiss cheese.

But then what happened, the communists came, confiscated the business, and they put my husband in jail.

Now, I am a survivor.

I don't say, "Why me?"

I say, "What now?"

I went to the drawer.

I picked up my big diamond ring.

I went to the jail.

I gave the warden my diamond ring.

I smuggled my husband out.

And that's how we came to America, penniless.

♪ I kept talking to Marianne all the time.

I tell her that we're coming to a place where we're going to be free, that we're going to be in a country that is the best in the world.

It was elation.

it was celebration.

it was just really a whole new beginning, a rebirth, a renaissance.

It was a very difficult beginning, and my husband ended up in a TB hospital, and I ended up in a sweatshop which was owned by Jewish people, Gerber and Gerber, cutting the threads off boxer shorts, and you get 7 cents a dozen.

So I worked so fast.

when I had to go to the bathroom, I held them, so I wouldn't waste the time.

But when I went to the bathroom, one of them said "colored," and I realized that my dream of a country was a dream.

♪ I come to America seeing prejudice.

When I heard about the history of the people of color and the lynching, believe me, it was heart-wrenching.

I ended up marching with Martin Luther King in Washington, D.C., and I've been committed to unite people and get rid of the "us and them" mentality.

♪ The next stop is El Paso, because my husband's TB was in remission.

But he was very much affected by the humidity in Baltimore.

My husband became a CPA.

I became a CPA because we studied together, and I helped out in his office.

I never finished high school.

Let's begin there.

I go to the University of Texas.

I beg them, "I love to go to school."

They want my -- I didn't have anything.

So they allow me to come in January on probation, and they put me in a class called, "English as a Second Language," and 99% of people were Mexican.

And the teacher, a beautiful man, said, "I want you to write an essay," and I had no idea what that word meant.

And then he said, "You know, it's like the old preacher.

Tell them what you're going to say, say it, and then tell them what you said.

Go home.

Bring me an essay."

So I wrote whatever I wrote, and then I tried to put it in the way that it would look like he wants me to put it.

♪ I won.

That's how.

And then I made the Dean's list, and that kept me in school.

And I never finished high school.

I was 40 when my supervisor told me to get a doctorate.

And I said, "It's impossible.

By the time I get a doctorate, I'll be 50," and he said, "You'll be 50 anyway."

And that is really what I say now.

I will be 93 anyway.

I cannot control that.

But when I get up in the morning, I look in the mirror, and I decide what kind of day I'm going to have.

I still have survivor's guilt, because even when I graduated with honors from the university, I didn't show up for my graduation, because I didn't forgive myself that I'm here and they are dead.

I did not collect the fruits of my labor.

I think today, I would do that.

♪ I still look forward to seeing my patients who are sent to me, who are my best teachers, who are really helping me to keep my mind alive and well.

I think that maybe this was my calling, not only to survive, but to guide others.

I like to be called a guide.

From victimization to empowerment, from darkness to light, I like journeys.

I really don't give advice.

What I do, I explore the choices and the consequences of the choices, because every choice will have a price tag attached.

What are you holding onto, and what are you willing to let go of?

And that's why I like to talk about new beginnings.

[ Speaking indistinctly ] ♪ Philip Zimbardo was one of the most famous psychology professor at Stanford, and he kept nudging me and said, "Survivors who are famous are all men.

It's Elie Wiesel.

It's Viktor Frankl.

We need a female voice."

And he nudged me long enough.

My book is the female voice of Viktor Frankl.

So when I met Viktor Frankl, he told me that he was an MD.

He was in his thirties, and he closed his eyes, and he imagined that he was in a Viennese lecture hall, lecturing about the psychology of the concentration camp.

And I said, "That's very interesting, because I too closed my eyes when I danced for Dr. Mengele, and the music was Tchaikovsky, and I was dancing the Romeo and Juliet at the Budapest Opera House."

I can thank him for writing "Man's Search For Meaning," but I'm not Victor Frankl.

I'm Edie.

And I got the New York Times bestseller called "The Choice."

It took me a lifetime to put it together.

♪ The blood that I carry is survivor's blood, not victim's.

I was victimized.

It's not who I am.

It's not my identity.

It's what was done to me.

No one can liberate you.

Don't wait for someone to come and liberate.

That's really a good definition of a victim.

People tell me, "You overcame."

No, I did not.

I did not forget.

I did not overcome.

I go through the valley of the shadow of death.

I don't camp there.

I don't set up household there, because if I would, I still would be a prisoner.

-I'm looking at a miracle.

I said, "I can't believe that you were a young, teenage girl in that hellhole, and look what you've done with your life today."

It's almost mind-boggling to me.

-It's really a miracle that I'm talking to you as a mother of three, a grandmother of five, and a great-grandmother of four little boys.

That's my revenge to Hitler.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ -Major funding for this film was provided by the Stan Greenspon Center for Peace and Social Justice, and by Reconstruction, the Second Founding of America.

Additional funding was provided by RX Smile, the offices of Dr. Greg Greenberg, orthodontist, and by the following sponsors.

A complete list of funders is available at aptonline.org and dancedfortheangelofdeath.org.

You can find out more information about this topic at dancedfortheangelofdeath.org.

"I Danced for the Angel of Death: The Dr. Edith Eva Eger Story," is available on DVD for $24.95, plus shipping and handling.

To order, please visit dancedfortheangelofdeath.org.