Opinions of a Wolf

Discover the untold story of Sigrid Schultz, the fearless American journalist who exposed the rise of Nazi Germany—at a time when women were underrepresented in jouranlism.

Summary:
Schultz was the Chicago Tribune ‘s Berlin bureau chief and primary foreign correspondent for Central Europe from 1925 to January 1941, and one of the first reporters—male or female—to warn American readers of the growing dangers of Nazism.

Drawing on extensive archival research, Pamela D. Toler unearths the largely forgotten story of Schultz’s years spent courageously reporting the news from Berlin, from the revolts of 1919 through Nazi atrocities and air raids over Berlin in 1941. At a time when women reporters rarely wrote front page stories, Schultz pulled back the curtain on how the Nazis misreported the news to their own people, and how they attempted to control the foreign press through bribery and threats.

Review:
This wasn’t on my TBR or wishlist, but when I saw the cover and subtitle at the library, I had to pick it up. I love a troublemaking woman journalist trope—and this was that trope in real life, plus WWII! This nonfiction history book delivers, and in a reader-friendly way.

Despite its depth, this book reads almost as easily as fiction. The author takes care not to put words in the mouths of historical figures—every direct quote comes from letters, interviews, or official documents—yet the scenes are vivid and easy to follow. Each phase of Sigrid Schultz’s life gets just the right amount of attention, from her childhood in Chicago, to her teen years in Europe, to her time as a pioneering journalist. There’s even a well-developed chapter about her post-journalism years in Connecticut, which many historical biographies tend to gloss over.

When I review historical nonfiction, I like to share a few standout insights without giving away everything—so here’s what stuck with me the most.

Sigrid’s sense of identity was deeply American—despite living abroad from age 8 onward. She was so committed to her citizenship that she turned down a full-ride scholarship for singing because accepting it would have required her to renounce her U.S. citizenship.

Her personal life was shaped by loss. Sigrid lost her fiancé in WWI and her second great love to illness in the 1930s. It’s a stark reminder of how much death and grief defined the early 20th century. She didn’t choose to be an independent woman supporting herself and her mother—it was a necessity.

The 1916–1917 German food crisis led to absurd propaganda. Wartime shortages meant that Germans were forced to survive almost entirely on rutabagas. The government tried to spin it, dubbing them “Prussian Pineapples” and publishing recipes for rutabaga soups, casseroles, cakes, bread, coffee, and even beer (yes, rutabaga beer). (📖 page 17).

Although Sigrid’s reporting on the Nazis’ rise to power was the most gripping part of the book—especially during the 1936 Berlin Olympics, when the world was watching—what lingered with me was the story of her later years.

After WWII, Sigrid lost out on professional opportunities because she opposed the Allied occupation of Germany, believing that “any army of occupation is apt to be fascist in its tendencies”—regardless of the occupier’s intent. While I support people having strong ethical stances, her unwavering focus on this issue contributed to a series of choices that prevented her from adapting to the postwar world.

She struggled to transition from journalism to writing for magazines and books, finding it difficult to adjust her style. While the world moved on to focus on the Red Scare, she remained laser-focused on the rise of fascism, convinced it would resurface again. Her stubbornness and focus were, in many ways, her strengths—she even fought off eminent domain in Connecticut, keeping her home from being turned into a parking lot until her death. But they were also a hindrance. It’s real food for thought: when should we adapt, and when should we hold our ground? The balance between the two can shape an entire life.

The book primarily touches on diversity through Sigrid’s observations of the Jewish persecution during the rise of the Nazi regime. Unlike figures such as Corrie ten Boom or Oskar Schindler, she wasn’t someone routinely saving Jewish lives—but she did take small, meaningful actions when possible. One notable example: she convinced a friend to “buy” a Jewish man’s library, allowing him to falsely appear financially stable enough to get a green card—effectively saving his life.

She was also among the first reporters at the liberation of concentration camps and covered the Dachau war crimes trials. The book also explores the possibility that her mother was secretly Jewish, though it remains uncertain.

That said, the book is overwhelmingly told through a white woman’s lens, with little focus on wider global perspectives beyond Sigrid’s own.

Overall, this is an engaging, accessible read, written for popular audiences rather than academic historians. It offers fresh insights into WWII journalism, even for those already familiar with the era, and provides a fascinating look at a pioneering woman in media history. Recommended for readers interested in WWII, investigative journalism, and women’s history. For a more lighthearted take on trailblazing women in journalism, check out Eighty Days, the story of investigative journalist Nellie Bly’s race around the world.

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4 out of 5 stars

Length: 288 pages – average but on the shorter side

Source: Library

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