In Staten Island, Meet A White Nationalist Who Looks Just Like Grandpa
Glossy profiles of White Nationalists living in America are all the rage now, as exemplified in this New York Times article that goes out of its way to profile a neo-nazi living in the midwest who enjoys things like television, cooking, and many other normal activities besides wanting to exterminate the Jewish race. So Tummy Sticks decided he would chase some of those hot clicks and internet dollars by doing a profile of his own.
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Steve Hemler lives alone now. His wife, Maria, died three years ago after fifty-eight years of marriage. His small Staten Island apartment is spartanly decorated and quiet except for an old record player in the corner. This Saturday, like most days, Richard Wagner is playing at a low volume.
Mr. Hemler, 90, moved to Staten Island sixty years ago. He chose the neighborhood because, in his words, “back then there were no Jews or blacks within ten blocks of here.” Although his shock of white hair and diminutive figure blends in seamlessly in this neighborhood of mainly retirees, Mr. Hemler’s political beliefs, especially on race, are extreme even for this small Trump loving section of New York.
“Jews, I hate ‘em. Just really hate ‘em, more than anything,” he playfully muses in his faint German accent as he stirs a small pot of simmering chimichurri, a recipe he learned from some cousins in Argentina. Though his culinary and musical tastes may strike many as cosmopolitan, Mr. Hemler is part of a growing movement of white nationalists that has attracted adherents across the country from a variety of backgrounds, though mostly white.
His apartment is mostly normal, but here and there — an SS hat on a bookshelf, or a Nazi armband underneath a nightstand — are small reminders of his white nationalist beliefs. When asked where online he was able to purchase such authentic Nazi memorabilia, he answers only with a confused blank stare. Hanging on the faded mahogany rocking chair he sits in is a frayed Nazi youth jacket, which he has somehow adorned with a customized name tag on the breast pocket.
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In his view, the growing presence of white nationalists in the media and public sphere are a positive development, one that portends a future where white men are no longer relegated to the back benches of NBA rosters. Mr. Hemler was born in Germany and came to the United States as a young man, and says many of the young men he sees online espousing white nationalist beliefs remind him of the firebrands he heard in his youth.
We leave his apartment, venturing to his favorite chain restaurant, Outback Steakhouse. He greets the server politely, not once uttering a racial slur or anti-Semitic remark as he requests a table away from the door because of occasional draft from outside. He orders a water with two lemons and a Blooming Onion to start with, an order that any normal non-Jew hating New Yorker could have just as easily made.
He speaks with some endearing quirks, always referring to the Nazi party as “we,” the way an impassioned Giants fan might refer to the Big Blue. He mentions SS commander Heinrich Himmler and curiously refers to him as “brother,” perhaps a peculiar mistranslation from his original language of German, which he will sometimes lapse into, especially when he begins to discuss Jews.
It’s not just the bigotry that draws Mr. Hemler to these white nationalist organizations, but also the sense of comradery he says he has not felt in many years. As a young man, he says he was a member of many youth organizations where he made close friends and felt a sense of belonging. “Back then, they gave you a sharp uniform and you had mentors to look up to, kids nowadays don’t have anything like that,” he laments.
While his political views may be anathema to the average American, and the forums he frequents explicitly praise the superiority of the white race, he rejects the labels of white nationalist or neo-Nazi. “Neo? I do not understand, like the Matrix? No, that is not me at all,” he defensively asserts.
We return from dinner as the sun draws down, and Mr. Hemler flips on HBO as we sit on the small plastic-covered couch in his living room. Curb Your Enthusiasm begins to play, and I expect a violent reaction, but he quietly laughs to himself as Larry David launches into one of his patented rants. I ask, “You know he’s Jewish right?” He smiles wryly, “Just because I want him and his family dead I cannot enjoy the show?” He has a point.