Submitted by Susie Moskoczi More Wagner, a Jewish Roots in Győr World Reunion attendee
This excerpt from the book “10 Country Road” written by Vera Moskoczi Peter, my aunt, focuses on my great-grandfather, my father’s maternal grandfather.
Vera’s book is about the ominous period before the Holocaust and finally about the fatal events that turned our peaceful existence into a nightmare. They brought great suffering to all of us, and resulted in the killing of seventeen members of our extended family including the oldest, Armin (my great-grandfather) who was eighty-eight years old.
From here-on I quote chapters of my aunt’s book.
New life at 50
My grandfather Armin Lefkovics (called Nagy (meaning “Great”) in the family) wrote words: “In September, 1907, I moved to Győr. I was 50 years old, at the threshold of old age. When most people plan to retire, I started a new life.” It sounds surprising now, but in the early years of the 20th century, the life expectancy for men was forty-eight years.
His first aim was to buy land — about 1.8 hectares, or four and a half acres – where the business and the house stood. The business letterhead read:
Lefkovics and Trostler, Successors of Schlosser
Construction business, Carpentry, Lumber merchants, certified carpenters, firewood and coal yard
Győr, Telephon: #97
On the Danube River bank
On the west toward the district of Sziget, stood 10 Country Road: the house, yard, garden, coach house, office, and a lot of other buildings, occupying the end of the peninsula. A marshy area of about an acre was sold to the city around 1908 or 1910. Years later, it was called Cziráky square, where the Danube and Rába meet at the tip of the peninsula, they erected an obelisk in memory of Count Béla Cziráky, who had been responsible for the regulation of river-ways and the draining of the marshlands in the vicinity.
Much later, a very modern Olympic-sized swimming pool and lido were built and they became our only neighbor to the east. To the north, a fair stretch of the Danube River bank belonged to us. To the west along Country Road there were no houses for the length of a good city block. As the road curved toward the city of Sziget, close to the far end of our property, there was a small bakery on one side and a stone cutter’s headstone business on the other. Next to the south side of our lot, a dark and narrow alleyway separated us from tennis courts that belonged to a posh sports club – for Christians only.
On many days, Armin went downtown to play cards with his friends in a darkish, smoke-filled coffeehouse called Hungaria located on Baross Street.
He, who had the least amount of formal education in the family, became its “writer.” He was also a speechmaker, a storyteller, and a public figure, but for us children, above all, he was our adored grandfather…
A hard-working, patriotic merchant
My grandfather, born in 1855, was a true product of the 19th century – but he also adapted very well to the changing circumstances of a new era. His “rags to riches” story runs parallel to that of many other Hungarian Jews. Just as Armin emerged from a most humble environment – his mother, who became a widow very early, was not only poor but also illiterate – to become a hard-working merchant and, within a few decades, a successful businessman, so was Hungarian Jewry transformed from a poor, barely tolerated minority to a considerable group that enjoyed equality of law and freedom of religion. Important laws came into force in 1867 and in 1895, opening new avenues for the Jews, and propelling many of them to a meteoric rise. Simultaneously, they became assimilated with the Hungarian people, and regarded themselves as Hungarian patriots first. Their Jewishness was only secondary.
Our own upbringing was based on these principles, permeated with patriotic feelings. The Hungarian history taught in schools emphasized the past greatness of our country and mourned the tragic consequences of the Treaty of Trianon.
…The patriotic concept, albeit in its benevolent form, was accepted by grandfather, the rest of the family and the majority of Jews. The fact that we were extremely loyal to Hungary reinforced our trust in the Hungarian and Jewish leaders and politicians, who in turn nurtured the illusion that Hungarian Jewry would emerge from the World War II physically intact, even if economically ruined. That was one of the many factors that made the extermination of close to half a million Hungarian Jews by the Nazis and their Hungarian henchmen so easy and swift. Their loyalty to the Hungarian cause runs through Armin’s entire life, except for the last catastrophic period. He called 1896, marking Hungary’s millennium, a glorious year. His speech on that occasion urged the members of Szepesbela’s (Szepesbéla (Spišská Belá) – note by the editor) Jewish congregation to love Hungary with great devotion. He emphasized that not all countries gave equal rights to their Jewish citizens. His love for politics was apparent in his first years in Győr. He ran for office in the municipal elections, failing in 1910 but succeeding three years later when he was elected as the representative of the Sziget and Révfalu districts.
A public figure
The devastation of World War I and its aftermath silenced my grandfather politically for sixteen years. In 1929, reluctantly, he again ran in the municipal elections. In his speech he reminisced about the glorious past, going back to the time before the war: “The people followed God’s commandments; they loved each other. They did not scrutinize one’s religion, occupation, or status in society; they respected honesty and reliability; they respected the human being.”
He became a member of the city’s Chamber of Commerce, but was not active. He observed with great concern the growing anti-Semitism. In 1933, he became involved in national politics. It was a controversial period in his life.
He was overly naive, accepting the presidency of a political party in his district and thus joining a party led by the prime minister, Gyula Gömbös – a known anti-Semite. Yet, we cannot blame grandfather. Gömbös, a conniving scoundrel, publicly recanted his anti-Semitic views. This was readily accepted by the leadership of the Budapest Jewish congregation, which of course, had great influence all over the country. …
A leader of the Győr Jewish Community
Armin held leadership positions in the Jewish Reformed Congregation. During those twelve years that we spent at school, it was compulsory to attend religious services every Saturday and on High Holidays. We saw grandfather in the temple at an exalted position. As a member of the community council, he was seated with the other aldermen on a dais in front of the tabernacle. He wore the usual tallit over his dark suit; a top hat completed the festive garb. He became a Council member in about 1930 and held that position for many years. His duties varied, but most of the time he was responsible for the social welfare of the poor and elderly.
… Armin held a position in the Chevra Kadisha, an organization within the leadership of the Synagogue. It dealt with funeral expenses, prayers for the dead, and memorial candles.
Among some of his accomplishments…in 1932… it is worth to remember his words: “Now that this soup kitchen is here, there are no more starving Jewish families.” They distributed at least one hundred and twenty, two-course meals daily. Grandfather was in full possession of his mental faculties until his last day. At the end of April, 1944, he read S. Dubnow’s A History of the Jews, and made some very bitter remarks about the Jews being “the chosen people”.
The approaching end
In his last will and testament, Armin or as we always called him: Nagy, had a special paragraph for my brother and me. It is especially heart-wrenching to read his parting words to us.
“My dear Ferike, my sweet Veruczi! To you I have a few special words. You grew up before my eyes. You understand, do you not, how much I loved you, how close to my heart you were? Do not ever forget my teachings about truthfulness, charity, and honesty. If you follow these teachings, you will be decent, respected people.
I have only one favour to ask you. Visit my tomb once in a while — but not in severe wintertime, rather in spring or summer, when the grass is green, the trees are full of leaves, and the flowers are in bloom. At this time the cemetery looks friendlier, it looks like the quiet, serene park of the dead.
Do not shed any tears at my grave, stand there quietly and think of your childhood! Perhaps you still remember when Nagy told you stories about the dancing bear, the monkey, the polar bear, the fox, the lynx and others. This will satisfy my soul. I also want you to read the memoirs I wrote for you. I think you will find a few things in them that will serve to edify you and will be useful, …”
Nagy wrote these words a few years before the Holocaust. He gave special instruction in great detail about his funeral. He did not know the cruel fate ahead of him; that his mortal remains would not be put to rest in a “friendly cemetery”, that there would be no tombstone with his name on it.
Susie’s epilogue
Let me, Susie, Armin’s great-granddaughter put a nostalgic ending to Armin’s story.
My father, Feri Moskoczi (changed to Frank More), my closest and most personal family link, shared a room with his grandfather, Armin. Father often told me stories of what a great influence his grandfather had on him and how close they were.
I just came across a postcard bearing an image of my great-grandfather at the age of 88 that he sent to my dad when he was in labor camp. I also enclose my dad’s translation on the back of the card.
Finally, let me recall that my great-grandfather and his wife Karolina Schnitzer had five daughters, the youngest was my grandmother Gizella (Gizi). Karolina predeceased him in 1918 and is buried in the Győr Cemetery.
Armin was deported and killed in Auschwitz at 88 years. His name along with my grandparents are inscribed in the memorial book in the Jewish Cemetery in Győr.