Books, Arts & Manners: Lively Ghosts of Wimbledon

ON June 30, 1937, a phone call came from Berlin. At first Baron Gottfried von Gramm decided not to take it. After all, he and the American Don Budge were about to leave the locker room and walk out to Wimbledon’s Centre Court to play the fifth and deciding Davis Cup match, Germany versus the United States (the winning team was expected to defeat the British, the defending champions). Then the Baron changed his mind. Wondering about the call might just distract him. He went to the phone.

Adolf Hitler was on the line. The Baron was a conspicuous despiser of his regime, but Hitler offered warm encouragement anyway. Of course Hitler knew that if Cramm won, the Davis Cup would go to Germany. The 1938 matches, in Berlin, would be a Nazi extravaganza, swastikas all over the place, strength through joy.

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Jeffrey Hart

Jeffrey Hart is a contributor to National Review.

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ON June 30, 1937, a phone call came from Berlin. At first Baron Gottfried von Gramm decided not to take it. After all, he and the American Don Budge were about to leave the locker room and walk out to Wimbledon’s Centre Court to play the fifth and deciding Davis Cup match, Germany versus the United States (the winning team was expected to defeat the British, the defending champions). Then the Baron changed his mind. Wondering about the call might just distract him. He went to the phone.

Adolf Hitler was on the line. The Baron was a conspicuous despiser of his regime, but Hitler offered warm encouragement anyway. Of course Hitler knew that if Cramm won, the Davis Cup would go to Germany. The 1938 matches, in Berlin, would be a Nazi extravaganza, swastikas all over the place, strength through joy.