It made international headlines in November 2025 when a late portrait by Gustav Klimt was sold for 236.4 million dollars – nearly 78 billion forints – at auction. The sale made the painting the second most expensive artwork ever sold, after the Salvator Mundi attributed to Leonardo da Vinci, and the most expensive modern painting in history. Hungarian media outlets likewise vied to highlight the staggering price, the drama of the bidding war, and yet another record in the global art market. What went largely unnoticed, however, was that the sitter of the portrait – properly speaking Erzsébet Léderer, not Elisabeth Lederer – had deep roots in Győr. She was more than a ‘Viennese young lady’: as the daughter of a major Hungarian industrialist, she set out from the banks of the Mosoni-Danube (Győr) into the inner circles of the Central European art world. This is not a matter of forced local patriotism, but a historical fact.
Elisabeth Lederer’s portrait before Sotheby’s auction, 8 November 2025, Photo: Charly Triballeau / AFP – Source: Telex.hu
Erzsébet Lederer’s father, Ágoston Ledererx, was no ordinary industrialist. The owner of several Austrian factories and the director and principal shareholder of the Győr Distillery and Refinery, he stood at the centre of the city’s industrial transformation. His career unfolded at a moment when Győr deliberately set out to reinvent itself – through conscious urban policy and far-reaching structural change – from a merchant town into a modern industrial city.
Ágoston Lederer– Source: József Palatinus és Imre Halász, ed. Free Royal City of Győr and Győr-Moson-Pozsony … Pál Pohárnik edition, 1934
Founded in 1884, the distillery offered little promise at the outset. It hovered on the edge of collapse, one more fragile enterprise in an era of uneven industrial expansion. Its survival depended on Lederer’s capital and technical expertise, but equally on the dense web of business connections he forged between Vienna and Győr, reinforced by German, Austrian, and Czech networks. Under his leadership, what had once been little more than a provisional, quasi-industrial operation was gradually transformed into a modern large-scale plant – an essential piece of industrial infrastructure that would, for decades, rank among the city’s most stable and reliable employers.
Győr Distillery and Refinery ltd, around 1920 – Source: Régi Győr
As a board member, Lederer was involved in the management of several railway and industrial joint-stock companies; as chairman, he presided over the city and county savings banks. During the forty-one years of what contemporaries came to call the “Lederer era,” spirits production in Győr flourished, largely owing to his sustained commitment. He modernised the distillery, brought its commercial operations onto a secure footing, and still found the capacity to play a role in the founding and development of the Hungarian Wagon and Machine Factory – an enterprise that would remain Győr’s largest industrial employer well into the late twentieth century. The local press reported hundreds of charitable donations made by the family. In the pages of Győr’s newspapers, Lederer’s name came to signify an “ethical and financial guarantee” – a form of authority that extended beyond the marketplace into the sphere of social welfare and the maintenance of civic institutions.
Győr’s industrial development in the second half of the nineteenth century was far from a spontaneous process. Its economic structure was reshaped above all by Jewish entrepreneurs who, from the 1850s onward, brought capital, technology, and a modern business culture to the region. They established the city’s leading food-processing and engineering plants, laid the foundations of the textile industry, and created both the oil factory and that of matches. By the turn of the century, this entrepreneurial stratum had produced the first stable, multi-generational industrial base of Győr’s capitalism. By 1910, 46.8 percent of the city’s population earned its living from industry, making Győr the most industrialised city in Hungary. Ágoston Lederer played a decisive role in this structural transformation. At the same time, it was precisely this economic reconfiguration that created the social and cultural conditions enabling his daughter, Erzsébet, to move into the innermost circles of Viennese modernism – and ultimately into the world of Gustav Klimt.
An Empire Born in a Rented Workshop
Ágoston Lederer’s life can only be understood by looking closely at the family background from which he emerged. The family story did not begin with palaces or art collections, but in a rented workshop in northern Bohemia. Ignatz Lederer was born in 1820, at a time when the movement, marriage, and livelihoods of Jewish families were still tightly constrained by law. He married in a synagogue and was laid to rest in the Jewish section of Vienna’s Central Cemetery. These details suggest that religious affiliation mattered to him, even if there is no surviving evidence of formal communal leadership or public religious roles.
Taking advantage of the economic freedoms granted by Joseph II’s Edict of Tolerance, Ignatz began his entrepreneurial ventures in the Czech-Moravian region. In 1859 he obtained an industrial licence for a small rented distillery in Leipa (today Česká Lípa), followed in 1867 by another in Jungbunzlau (today Mladá Boleslav). What began as a modest family enterprise later became the foundation of the Jungbunzlauer Spiritus und Chemische Fabrik AG, registered in Prague in 1895 – an industrial concern that would be followed by the establishment of additional factories and would provide Ignatz’s sons with a secure economic base.
Ignatz was not merely an entrepreneur, but an innovator attentive to the technical possibilities of his time. He moved beyond the traditional production of potato spirits and shifted toward higher-quality alcohol distilled from sugar beet, exploiting the agricultural resources of the region with unusual foresight. He also found uses for the by-products of distillation, such as potash, which were absorbed by industries ranging from glassmaking to soap production. In doing so, he demonstrated a form of industrial pragmatism – and environmental awareness – that was well ahead of its time. The rapid expansion of these ventures brought swift material advancement to the family. Yet contemporary accounts also suggest that Ignatz retained a sense of social responsibility: he was known to support the local poor on a regular basis. What emerged from this combination of technical ingenuity, economic discipline, and social embeddedness was not merely a successful business, but the foundations of an industrial dynasty whose reach would soon extend far beyond its modest beginnings.
One of the Monarchy’s Most Remarkable Collector Couples
In the second half of the nineteenth century, large-scale population movements unfolded from the Czech-Moravian lands toward Vienna, a pattern the Lederer family likewise followed. By the time of Ignatz Lederer’s death in 1896, he was already living in Vienna. He was convinced that the industrial empire he had built could become truly profitable and internationally embedded only in the imperial capital. This Czech–Moravian–rooted, Vienna-centred, multi-branch entrepreneurial background provided the economic foundation from which Ágoston Lederer’s later career in Győr would emerge, and on which – building consciously – he married Serena Sidonia Pulitzer in 1892. The wedding ceremony was conducted according to Jewish rite by the chief rabbi of Győr.
The Lederers lived in Vienna’s inner city, while at the same time holding substantial land property and industrial interests in Győr. Their home became one of the centres of artistic life around the turn of the century. By this point, Ágoston Lederer ranked among the thousand wealthiest businessmen of the fifty-million-strong Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. His family possessed considerable experience in the spirits and chemical industries; he himself acquired his professional training in Vienna and further refined his expertise through study trips abroad.
The marriage proved to be of outstanding significance both socially and economically. Serena Sidonia Pulitzer, who came from Makó (town in South Hungary – ed.) after whose cousin the Pulitzer Prize was later named, brought a dowry equivalent to approximately €1.3 million today – around half a billion forints – into the union. This capital enabled Ágoston Lederer to become the principal shareholder of the Győr distillery mentioned above, which he subsequently directed for forty-one years. In 1911 the family moved from Vienna to Győr, where Lederer also acquired Hungarian citizenship and where the family remained throughout the war. Trained as both an economist and a chemist, the industrial magnate became one of the multimillionaires of the early twentieth century. The factory still stands today, operating under the name Győri Szeszgyár és Finomító Zrt. Yet the name of its former director has largely faded from collective memory.
The Lederer couple distinguished themselves not only through their wealth but also through their passion for art. Ágoston and Serena belonged to the most enthusiastic art collectors of the Monarchy: they regularly attended auctions in Paris, London, and Berlin, where they sometimes made purchases for astonishing sums. Ágoston was particularly devoted to Italian late Renaissance and early Baroque art. He possessed an exceptional collection of sixteenth-century bronzes – one that remained a rarity even among Vienna’s leading art patrons of the period.
Serena’s interests, by contrast, were oriented toward the modern age. She was a regular visitor to – and purchaser at – exhibitions of the Wiener Werkstätte, became an enthusiastic supporter of the art of the Vienna Secession, and embraced all that defined turn-of-the-century Viennese modernity. Her extravagant dresses were designed by the era’s celebrated fashion creator Emilie Flöge, while her intellectual outlook was shaped by Freud’s ideas. In other words, she embodied everything that at the time constituted the intellectual and visual centre of Viennese high society. It is therefore hardly surprising that their children grew up immersed in this world. Erzsébet pursued sculpture, while Erik followed his parents’ passion for art as a collector. Against this background, it is little wonder that the daughter of a major industrialist from Győr could gain access to the innermost circles of Viennese modernism.
Friendship, Art, and the Birth of an Iconic Portrait
Around the turn of the century, the Lederer couple became acquainted with the increasingly influential Austrian painter Gustav Klimt. In 1897, together with several fellow artists, Klimt made a highly visible break with the conservative Künstlerhaus and founded the movement known as the Wiener Secession. The aim of the group was to free itself from the constraints of official academic art and to create space for modern forms, new aesthetics, and international artistic currents. It was within this vibrant, forward-looking milieu that the art-loving Lederer couple encountered Klimt – and it was from here that the path eventually led to Erzsébet Lederer becoming one of the painter’s most significant portrait subjects.
The Lederer couple thus maintained a close and cordial relationship with the young and highly talented Gustav Klimt, who around the turn of the century rapidly became one of the celebrated figures of Viennese social life. Klimt worked across a wide range of subjects, but he became especially renowned for portraying the distinguished women of his era, among them Serena Lederer. Her full-length portrait was exhibited in 1901 at the Secession’s 10th exhibition and within a short time became one of Klimt’s most widely recognised works.
Serena was deeply devoted to the painter’s work and quite literally spent fortunes to have Klimt’s paintings and drawings adorn the salon of her Viennese home. Her enthusiasm for art went so far that one of Klimt’s most provocative and best-known works – the 24-metre-long Beethoven Frieze – found a home, at least temporarily, in Serena Lederer’s salon. This gesture perfectly illustrates the extent to which the family became one of the most important patrons of Viennese modernism. It was from this close personal and artistic relationship that the portrait later emerged which today ranks as the second most expensive painting ever sold at auction – and whose sitter was the daughter of a major industrialist from Győr.
Schiele and the Lederer Family: An Artistic Friendship Rooted in Győr
Thanks to their close relationship with Klimt, the Lederer family also became acquainted with the young and extraordinarily talented Egon Schiele, whom Klimt introduced to them explicitly as a close friend. Schiele quickly gained the family’s trust: he worked with the eldest son, Erik Lederer, in painting lessons and accompanied his first steps on the artistic path as a mentor. The year 1911 marked a turning point. That was when the Lederer couple moved to Győr, and Schiele lived as a guest in the family’s home for an entire year. This period became an important chapter in Schiele’s oeuvre as well: it was then that he painted the now-famous depiction of the Kecskelábú Bridge in Győr and produced several portraits of Erik. The Klimt–Schiele–Lederer connection represents a rare example of a major industrial family from Győr becoming an integral part of the intellectual and artistic milieu of the Viennese avant-garde.
Ágoston Lederer, charcoal by Egon Schiele, 1918 – Source: Wikipedia
At the time of his death in 1936, Ágoston Lederer was living in Vienna’s Innere Stadt, on one of its most prestigious streets, in close proximity to the parliamentary quarter, the Justizpalast, and the Hofburg. This address clearly signalled his integration into Vienna’s high-financial and upper-bourgeois elite and underscored that his family resided at the very social and cultural centre of the Monarchy’s capital.
The Wiener Salonblatt commemorated him in the following terms: “As a serious collector, he attended every major auction held in Paris, London, or Berlin, and at these events there also appeared, at the side of the calm and distinctly intelligent gentleman, an impressively beautiful lady whose dark, shining eyes captivated everyone. Over the course of several decades, the couple came to be known as such devoted collectors that they became infallible experts.”
In 1938, the Anschluss struck the Lederer family as a catastrophe. The Jungbunzlau company was “Aryanised” by the National Socialists, and the family’s entire property was confiscated. That same year, Serena – completely dispossessed and holding Hungarian citizenship – fled to Hungary, where she died in 1943. Their daughter Erzsébet, whose non-Jewish husband abruptly divorced her after the Anschluss, also arrived in Hungary stripped of her possessions and survived her mother by only one year. The two sons, Erik and Fritz, escaped abroad in 1938. Erik settled in Geneva with his wife, where until his death in 1995 he made the restitution of his parents’ property the central aim of his life – an endeavour that ultimately proved impossible. The Lederer couple’s Klimt collection was transported by the Nazis to a castle in Lower Austria. Before their withdrawal from Austria, on 8 May 1945, the castle in which the artworks and paintings were stored was mined and set on fire.
In the domestic press, however, much of this went largely unnoticed. Coverage tended to stop at the price and at highlighting Erzsébet’s survival of the Holocaust, while little attention was paid to her connection to Győr – to the fact that she was the child of one of the city’s most important industrial dynasties. It is as if the Hungarian story behind the portrait remained invisible, as if the Jewish industrialists who drove Győr’s modernisation had never inscribed their names into the city’s history. Yet it was precisely these entrepreneurs who, through their work, set Győr on an industrial path and sustained the city’s development until the Second World War. And the figure who connected this network to Vienna, integrated it, and elevated it to national significance was Ágoston Lederer – whose daughter became the central figure of the world-record-breaking artwork. It is almost as if the portrait had no Hungarian dimension, as if it did not belong to the same historical narrative whose endpoint today is a Klimt masterpiece sold at a Sotheby’s auction.
Yet this is worth stating plainly: this portrait is also a Hungarian story. Klimt’s record-breaking painting may have been created in Vienna, but its roots reach deep into the soil of Győr as an industrial city. The full-length portrait is not merely a masterpiece of art history; it is also the visual trace of a Hungarian Jewish ascent – a social and economic trajectory shaped by a generation of entrepreneurs. It belongs to a period in which Jewish and non-Jewish businessmen jointly forged the modern character of Győr, and in which the city’s industry laid claim to a place not only within Hungary, but on Europe’s economic map.
The Klimt record, therefore, is more than an art-market sensation. It is the remembrance of a woman rendered within the highest register of artistic prestige – and, through her, the re-emergence of a city, a family, and a vanished economic and cultural world from which she came.
x In the Hungarian local press, he is usually referred to as Ágoston Léderer; however, his official name is Ágoston Lederer.
Source: János Honvári: A Brief History of Hungarian Industry, Glória Kiadó, 1995.
English translation by Tünde Csendes
This article is a version reproduced with permission from Telex online media outlet.
Diplomats only take offense when instructed to do so
Two interviews were conducted with Viktor Polgár, a former Hungarian diplomat, in September 2025. He is one of the sons of the renowned foreign policy journalist Dénes Polgár (1912-2009 born in Győr just as Viktor. Together with his younger brother György, Viktor participated in the Jewish Roots in Győr World Reunion in Győr, July 2024.
“A diplomat only takes offense when instructed to do so,” he says in the first interview. In this one, you can learn about Viktor’s childhood in Washington and Hungary, his early career, and some details about his father’s, Dénes’ life and work. Viktor shares insights into his Canadian posting, recounts how he interpreted for János Kádár, the first secretary of the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party, describes the work of a cultural attaché in Washington, and recounts his diplomatic adventure with former State President Pál Losonci. He offers advice to novice diplomats and provides examples of the pitfalls of international diplomacy. After the change of regime in Hungary, Viktor set out in new directions.
Viktor was an interpreter at high-level intergovernmental meetings, as revealed in the second conversation. In it, he describes the gradual thawing of Hungarian-American relations in the 1980s, bringing to life the figures of Ferenc Havasi, a high-ranking politician in the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party (MSZMP), and Armand Hammer, an American businessman who even met Lenin. He also talks about the meeting between Ronald Reagan, the American president at the time, and Károly Grósz, one of the last Hungarian prime ministers (MSZMP) before the change of regime. We hear about the fruitful trade relations between Rába Works in Győr and the United States, which once also brought Hungarian Ikarus buses to Los Angeles.
Both recordings are taken fromTamás Kozsdi’s YouTube channel, republished with the consent of Viktor Polgár.
Text edited and translated into English by P. Krausz.
Turbulent Life Story of the Son of József Glück, renowned Photographer from Győr
Compiled by Péter Krausz
A controversial figure. It is not up to me to judge his life and career, or the accuracy of the information I have found.
Perhaps in the 1970s, at a Holocaust memorial service in the cemetery, my mother pointed out Borsa Misi in the distance, a childhood acquaintance, and they greeted each other. “He always comes with a different lady”, my mother used to say. Perhaps in the 1980s, my wife, a novice lawyer, officially visited Mihály Borsa, the chairman of the Central Social Committee, at the office of the National Representation of Hungarian Jews, on behalf of a client.
Borsa had led an incredibly varied life. He had risen to the highest ranks of Hungarian political and Jewish community circles. He was a lawyer before the war and a politician in the Smallholders’ Party. One of the first to be deported from Hungary to Nazi concentration camps, lost his family, and after the war became a member of the National Assembly, held high government offices, and was president of the Joint organization in Hungary and head of the aforementioned social committee.
In this article, I present some details of Borsa’s life with the help of internet sources. The biographical details are taken from Péter Kozák’s notes on the life of Mihály Borsa. [1] The paragraphs on the machinations of the state security services against Borsa are quotations from an article written in April this year by historian László Bernát Veszprémy, with minor editorial changes. [2] (Other sources are indicated separately throughout the text – ed.).
I will leave it to the reader to judge.
Son of photographer József Glück, his schools [1]
He was born on February 25, 1906, in Győr, the son of Mihály Glück (Glück József, the photographer of the old Győr – ed.) and Janka Singer (“Névpont” cited incorrectly gives her name as Johanna – ed.). Died on November 16, 1986, in Budapest. He took the name Borsa in 1945.
He studied at the Jewish community’s school in Győr, then graduated from today’s Révai Gymnasium, in 1924. Afterwards, he studied at the École des Hautes Études Sociales and the Paris School of Journalism (1924–1927). Upon his return, he obtained a doctorate in political science and law from the Erzsébet University of Sciences in Pécs (1929).
In this way, he managed to circumvent the discriminatory restrictions of the numerus clausus. At the age of twenty-three, with excellent schools behind him and valuable diplomas in his pocket, he began his professional career (ed.).
Early years [1]
He began his career as a reporter in Győr for the Est newspaper (1927–1929), then worked as an employee of the Győr District Chamber of Commerce and Industry (1929–1935) as a clerk and industrial affairs officer (1935–1939). He lost his job in 1939 due to anti-Jewish laws. He became an employee of the Pesti Izraelita Hitközség (Pest Jewish Community) (1943–1944).
1944 [1]
After the German occupation of Hungary, he was arrested while trying to escape on March 20, 1944. As a politician belonging to the Smallholders’ Party, he was interned in Kistarcsa and then deported to the Auschwitz concentration camp with the first transport of political prisoners. He was later sent to several camps, and after the liberation of Dachau, he became a member of the local Hungarian committee from May to September 1945.
Dachau prisoners after their liberation, seated in the front row, first from the right: Borsa, Dachau, Germany, 1945, Source: JPhoto-Archive, Photo Seffner, Dachau, Archives of the Jewish Community of Szeged (This photo also appeared in March 1982 in the Vigilia magazine. According to this source, those pictured in the top row, from left to right, are: László Földeák, a butcher from Kispest; Sándor Szegő and János Pécsi, members of the illegal Communist Party; Dr. László Horváth, a physician; Dr. József Frankl, a pharmacist from Szeged; and Miklós Gergely, a member of the illegal Communist Party. In the bottom row, from left to right: unknown man; István Benkő and István Eglis, Roman Catholic priests, EMSZO secretaries (Church Parish Workers’ Sections – ed.); Dr. Mihály Borsa, smallholder politician. The three young communists, the two priests, and the smallholder politician were members of the Hungarian Prisoners’ Committee in Dachau.
His four-year-old daughter and wife, who had been deported to Auschwitz, were murdered. This tragedy left an indelible mark on his life, and he never started a new family (see Kol Israel – ed.).
After liberation: work, politics, Jewish organizations [1]
Member of the Independent Smallholders Party (FKgP) (since 1935), member of the National Assembly, then member of the Parliament between 1945 and 1949.
In 1945, he held several positions: secretary of the National Association of Hungarian Textile Manufacturers and head of department at the Government Commission for Abandoned Property. He was ministerial advisor to the Ministry of Reconstruction from 1946 to 1948, then in 1948 he became president of the Materials and Prices Office and CEO of the National Honey Company. According to some sources (arcanum.hu – ed.), he was also given the rank of state secretary.
90004/1948. (III. 27.) ÉKM decree on the amendment of decree 105017/1947. IpM on the determination of the maximum factory (manufacturer) price of bricks, roof tiles and earthenware products, details, Budapest, March 25, 1948. For the Minister: Dr. Mihály Borsa, Chairman of the Materials and Prices Office, Source: Jogkódex
He was appointed president of the Hungarian branch of Joint, an international organization providing aid to victims of fascism, a position he held for thirty years, from 1957 to 1986. At the same time, he became chairman of the Central Social Committee of the Hungarian Jewish Community (MIOK).
Over the decades, his activities were recognized with numerous awards: the Hungarian Order of Merit (bronze, 1947), Order of Merit for Work (gold, 1966), Order of the Flag of the Hungarian People’s Republic (1976), Order of the Flag of the Hungarian People’s Republic with Laurel Wreath (1986).
In the target of state security services [2]
Borsa first came to the attention of state security in 1960, and from 1962 onward, he became a target of internal counterintelligence under the code name ‘Milliomos’ (Millionaire). A range of covert measures and agents were deployed to surveil him, including operational actions and, eventually, a criminal proceeding—all aimed at removing him from his key position in the Jewish community leadership.
Commemoration of the 10th anniversary of the Agreement signed by the State and the Church (i.e. religious communities – ed.), from left: Dr. Mihály Borsa, Chairman of the MIOK (National Representation of Hungarian Israelites – ed.) Social Committee, Dr Erwin Haymann, President of the Société de Secours et d’Ent’Aide, Endre Sós, President of MIOK, Mark Tzala, member of the Société de Secours et d’Ent’Aide Comité, Marcell Steiner, Vice-President of MIOK, and Dr. Imre Benoschofsky, Chief Rabbi of the capizal city, Budapest, Síp utca 12., ceremonial hall of the Headquarters of the Federation of Jewish Communities in Hungary, 1959, Source: Fortepan / Bauer Sándor
During his brief political career, he established a network of connections that he continued to draw on throughout his life. One of his main patrons was the influential communist politician Gyula Ortutay, who often stood up for his former party colleague. One of the first reports on Borsa was filed in April 1960 by an informant codenamed ‘Xavér’ (The codename concealed Ilona Benoschofsky, see Rubicon, see also: Kol Israel – ed.). According to the report, Borsa was ‘a cheerful, good-humored, bohemian man who enjoys living well and merrily…He likes women and often boasts about his successes with them.’ His relationship with the communist leadership of the Jewish community – particularly with Sós – was notably poor, but they were unable to remove him from his position.
An agent codenamed ‘Sárosi’ – identified in the scholarly literature as Géza Seifert, former leading member of the Budapest Israelite Congregation (BIH) and later, after Endre Sós, president of MIOK (operated as an agent under the codename ‘Sípos’, Rubicon – ed.) – criticized Borsa for sitting in the back during MIOK General Assemblies, chatting and laughing—thus ‘disrupting’ the proceedings. Borsa was reportedly fond of boasting about his high-level communist connections … Borsa allegedly named his connections, including not only Ortutay but also Rezső Nyers, the influential Minister of Finance.
A greater problem than the above-mentioned issues was Borsa’s alleged Zionist connections and his friendship with Rabbi Sándor Scheiber. ‘Mihály Borsa fully cooperates with the staunch Zionist Sándor Scheiber,’ wrote one state security officer in a comment.
Borsa had control over significant sums of money: his organization officially distributed one million dollars annually, or 30 million Hungarian forints at the time’s value – a huge sum. However, Borsa boasted in one instance that through other channels, he brought in at least double that amount. ‘He brings in the most dollars, more than any foreign trade company’ and ‘the Party also highly appreciates this activity.’ The vast sums of money ‘were not properly monitored …, and ‘…the aid provided could potentially finance hostile activities’ – according to state security agencies.
His street surveillance was organised; the description of his daily activities can still be consulted in the state security agency files. However, the surveillance only revealed self-evident connections, such as Lipót Hermann, painter, or Erwin Haymann, the head of the Swiss Jewish aid organization. The next step was to bug his office at the BIH office premises in 1962. Agent „Sárosi” was instructed by his handler … to build a friendly relationship with Borsa.
Although the Jewish “community” was observed in the years immediately following 1956, this activity accelerated in 1960 and became systematic. In early summer 1960, Soviet intelligence informed similar agencies in “friendly countries” that “we would like to ask our friends if they could compile and forward to the State Security Council a summary report on the most characteristic trends in Israeli intelligence activities against the people’s democracies and the Soviet Union” (June 17, 1960).
In its response to this “friendly request,” the Hungarian counterintelligence service highlighted the “hubs” that should be targeted by intelligence activities relating to Hungarian Jewry: the Israeli embassy, Professor Sándor Scheiber, director of the Rabbinical Seminary, and the community’s foreign relations and finances. The Soviet request accelerated events, because from 1961 onwards, the staff of Subdivision II/5-c of the Political Investigation Department of the Ministry of the Interior began intensive reconnaissance work, coordinated with several subdivisions. An Operational Report dated September 4, 1961, describes in detail the situation of the Jewish “community” and, in addition to the above, draws attention to the activities of the Central Social Committee, which operated with a high degree of autonomy and was headed by Dr. Mihály Borsa.
Source: Blackout – State control of Jewish institutions in the early years of the Kádár era, Attila Novák, Rubicon
There were differences in the assessment of Borsa among various state agencies. Just as the counterintelligence concluded that Borsa was ‘suspected of intelligence activities’, the ÁEH issued the following evaluation: ‘[Borsa] is not a Zionist. His public activities are well-known, and he has always shown loyalty to our government and political system.’
However, the most accurate description of his philosophy was perhaps found in the following report: ‘He is a supporter of this system because he cannot do otherwise. First of all, he is living better than he ever has. No one bothers him, no one disturbs him, so he has no reason for dissatisfaction. Additionally, he admits that he is afraid. Every Jew is afraid, though not all admit it. He is afraid because if any change were to happen here, even if only a 2–3-day period of chaos and transition were to occur, all Jews would be exterminated during that time. Antisemitism is rampant, without reason, as it has never been anywhere before. Without reason, because during Rákosi’s time, it was justified, as the highest leadership was made up entirely of Jews, although these individuals had nothing to do with Judaism, and their crimes were attributed to the Jewish community. But today, this is not the case. The highest leadership has no Jews, but the antisemitism has not disappeared; in fact, it has intensified.’
Party officials believed that “the Jews” and their stereotypes and connotations were very similar to those before the war. They were convinced that “the Jews” were a separate social group with their own interests, operating a hidden network, whose members, even if they attained high positions in the system, would always remain unreliable, potential agents of the West, who would show their true colours in times of crisis – this was then openly stated by Polish party leader Władysław Gomułka in his famous speech referring to the “imperialist-Zionist fifth column” at a mass rally in June 1967.
Source: Interview – “They kept track of who was Jewish,” sociologist András Kovács on anti-Semitism under the Kádár regime, November 23, 2019, MagyarNarancs
Since the previous investigations did not yield results, a year later, they planned to bug Borsa’s apartment. To do so, they first needed a copy of his apartment key. Since Borsa regularly visited the Rudas Bath with Géza Seifert, it seemed logical to steal the keys from his clothing at that time. … To carry out the operation, they mobilized their agent, ‘Sárosi’, whose job was to ensure that Borsa did not cut his bath visit short that day. The bug was finally installed in his apartment in February 1964.
Starting in April 1964, they began monitoring Borsa’s foreign and domestic correspondence as well.
In the summer of 1964 he visited Poland, and at that time, the Polish state security services were asked to monitor him, but no significant data was gathered. The Hungarian authorities also reached out to the Soviet intelligence services, but for a more sinister matter: they wanted to find out the names of Holocaust survivors living in the Soviet Union who had been imprisoned alongside Borsa in Dachau and other camps. The Hungarian authorities believed that Borsa had been a cruel kapo, and they were seeking evidence to support this. The tip had originally come from ‘Xavér’, whom Borsa had confided in during 1957–58, telling her that ‘he had been a kapo in the concentration camp. This came up when Borsa shared a long story about how he acquired a lot – perhaps 2,000 pieces – of cigarettes and how he manipulated them. He couldn’t have done this any other way, except by having a special position. If I remember correctly, he mentioned Wüstegiersdorf as the camp where he had been to. I think he was also in Dachau.’ The testimonies were continuously collected, even as late as 1968, with the aim of discrediting Borsa, though it seems the case never led to any conclusive findings, other than that he was most likely indeed a kapo. Of course, having been a kapo didn’t necessarily imply that he was also cruel, and we know that the communist secret police often spread false accusations about its enemies.
In the summer of 1965, the state security service concluded that more intensive data collection was needed regarding Borsa’s ‘business’ meetings. They decided to bug the booth No. 4 at the famous Mátyás Pince restaurant, which was known to be reserved for Borsa. … An agent codenamed ‘Pincér’ (‘Waiter’), worked at the restaurant, he was Miklós Oltai, a former Jewish forced labour service member, born in 1916, also a party member, and a ‘workers’ guard’ (munkásőr) since 1957. He assisted in allowing the technical team to carry out the necessary checks during the night. Thanks to his help, they successfully installed the surveillance device at the end of July. However, by October, it was found to be completely useless because noise from the bathroom interfered with the operation. The device had to be removed, which required another lengthy procedure …
Borsa underwent a ‘strict customs inspection’ at Ferihegy airport, but nothing unusual was found … A secret search was also conducted at his residence, but it yielded no results …
Through the examination of his contacts, it was established as a fact that Borsa was in contact with individuals who, according to information, could be agents of British or NATO intelligence, although the Joint was considered a cover operation of the Israeli intelligence service anyway. ‘Considering the above, Dr Mihály Borsa is highly suspected of involvement in intelligence activities … They also collected a few incriminating quotes from him: at one point, Borsa said: ‘I hate the communists’, and at another, he remarked: ‘There is no worse institution than the ÁEH (State Ageny for Cooperation with Churches – ed.). They turn people against each other. They don’t care about the Jewish issue (…) an anti-Semitic group.’ ‘He then elaborated that one should only live among Jews, but added that, of course, not among the kind of Jews that live in Hungary.’
On 1 February 1968, … Borsa was driving with his acquaintance sitting in the car next to him, Béla Steiner, near the town Dunaújváros. He was behind the wheel when the car suddenly skidded off the road into a ditch. Steiner died in the crash. Criminal proceedings were launched against Borsa for negligent endangerment causing death. Behind the scenes, Department III/II-4-a of the Interior Ministry (counterintelligence focused on foreign entities from the Middle East) intervened to ‘ensure that no external interference would be allowed and that the investigation and legal proceedings would be conducted at the prosecutorial and judicial level with strict adherence to socialist legality.’ There are signs they tried to influence the findings of the expert opinion on the accident, although primarily because Borsa himself had started using his connections in the matter. According to agent ‘Sárosi’, Borsa mobilized Ortutay and Sándor Barcs, also of Jewish descent, a former MP of the Smallholders’ Party and member of the Presidential Council …
At this point, it was likely someone from higher up who ordered the secret police to stop the pointless harassment of Borsa. Investigators were instructed that if Borsa had committed a crime, then the criminal proceedings should be implemented, but if not, then ‘the case must be closed’. In the end, Borsa received a three-year suspended prison sentence for the traffic accident, and his file was closed … The secret police were forced to acknowledge, however, that over the course of eight years of operative work, they had ‘not succeeded in obtaining any information that would prove or substantiate the suspicion of espionage’ against him. The listening device installed in his apartment remained active until October 1974 …
Later, it appears that his relationship with the system consolidated (he received numerous honours, as already mentioned – ed.). … When, in the spring of 1969, Iván Beer and István Berger were suspended from the Rabbinical Seminary for Zionist activities, Borsa was requested to support this suspension …
There were two institutions where party and internal affairs agencies continuously but unsuccessfully attempted to take control from the early 1960s to the 1980s. One was the Rabbinical Training Seminary led by Sándor Scheiber, and the other was the Central Social Committee, which operated within the Jewish community and administered social assistance, led by Mihály Borsa. These two were able to preserve their autonomy, at least in part, although attempts were constantly made to remove them from their positions and to seize the financial resources that made their autonomy possible at all.
Source: Interview – “They kept track of who was Jewish,” sociologist András Kovács on anti-Semitism under the Kádár regime, November 23, 2019, MagyarNarancs
The mysterious Mihály Borsa, Commemoration of the 10th anniversary of the Agreement signed by the State and the Church, Budapest, Síp utca 12., ceremonial hall of the Headquarters of the Federation of Jewish Communities in Hungary, 1959, Source: Fortepan / Bauer Sándor(also featured image)
Compiled, edited, and translated into English by Péter Krausz (English translation of the section from the source under footnote 2: Hungarian Conservative)
[1] Notes on Mihály Borsa by Péter Kozák, 2013, Névpont (Other sources used in these chapters are indicated separately – ed.)
[2] Do Millionaires Like Cheese? Covert Measures Against Mihály Borsa, 1960–1974– by László Bernát Veszprémy, 5 April 2025, Hungarian Conservative and Kol Israel (Other sources used in this chapter are indicated separately – ed.)
Ibi Keller and Károly Krausz: until the post-Holocaust Renewal
Written by Péter Krausz
They live as long as we remember
In this piece about our ancestors, I recall memories of mother, father, and their families. I am grateful to my brother, András, for his support.
Who from our family is buried in the Jewish cemetery in Győr-Sziget?
I will recount them in the order in which we have visited the graves for decades, formerly together with our parents.
At the end of the straight path leading from the entrance next to the caretaker’s house to the oldest cemetery plot is the grave of our mother’s great-grandparents: Róza Deutsch and József Kohn, 1844-1916 and 1844-1918. This gravestone is perhaps the most representative of all our family graves, despite the fact that, apart from the plaque bearing the inscription, which was originally made of limestone from Süttő, it was built from artificial stone, and the damaged Süttő stone has since been replaced with a marble slab. The plaque is surrounded by small side columns and a kind of classicizing roof structure. At our urging, our mother had a white marble plaque placed on the back of the grave in the early 1980s to commemorate our immediate family members who were deported and murdered in 1944 as a result of Nazi-Hungarian collaboration, namely our maternal grandparents, our four great-grandparents and our mother’s first husband.
Front and rear views of the renovated grave of our great-great-grandparents, Jewish cemetery in Győr-Sziget – photo: PKR
The next grave, near the funeral parlour, is the final resting place of three members of our family. First and foremost, our father, Károly Krausz (1903-1983), whom we simply called Édes (Sweetheart), our paternal grandfather, Lajos Krausz (1873-1924), and finally our uncle, Zoltán Krasznai (Krausz) (1913-1986), who never found his place in distant Australia after emigrating in 1956 and as often as he could he returned to visit us.
We rebuilt this grave twice subsequent to our father’s death, most recently in 2021. On the back of the previous stones there was a memorial stone for the martyrs of the family, which was installed by our father in the 1960s. Not only do the graves often bear witness on their reverse side to the suffering of ancestors, but behind every living Jew today stand his or her innocent family members and ancestors who were persecuted and murdered. The names of our paternal grandmother, our father’s five sisters, our aunts whom we never met, and, with two exceptions, their husbands and children were inscribed on this plaque. The names of our father’s first wife, Natalka, and her two beloved daughters, Mártika and Veronka, our half-sisters, were also engraved here (link).
They were all murdered in Auschwitz. The names on the memorial stone were finally engraved on the back of the new gravestone during the last renovation.
The old memorial plaque on the back of the shared grave of our grandfather, father, and Uncle Zoli, with the new gravestone next to it – photo: PKR
Our father’s brother, Uncle Laci (1908-1931), has a simple, reddish memorial stone carved from Süttő stone, located on the left side of the path leading from the main entrance of the cemetery to the Holocaust pyramid. He was the second of three brothers, born after our father. He died young of tuberculosis.
Uncle Laci died young – photo: PKR
Finally, our mother’s grave is located in the immediate vicinity of the Pyramid. It is symbolic that it stands in the shadow of the memorial, as her entire life was marked by the terrible trauma of losing her entire family. Károlyné Krausz, Ibi Keller, 1921-2018. She passed away seven years ago at the age of 97, and we still sometimes want to call or visit her, but that is no longer possible.
Mother’s grave in the cemetery in Győr-Sziget, 2021 – photo: András Krausz
Father’s Ancestors
Where should I continue? Perhaps with what we know about our father’s family.
In the late 1990s and early 2000s, our mother gave two detailed interviews about her life at the initiative of foreign Holocaust researchers. These are available online, and my brother and I compiled our mother’s family history in a family publication for her 90th birthday. So, our mother’s life is relatively well documented. I will, of course, return to her life later. (Biography: Centropa1 and Centropa2 2002; an interview with her was also recorded on September 30, 1999 – USC Shoah Foundation Visual History Archive, “Ibolya Krausz”, interview code: 50430)
However, our father’s life was not “documented”, except for one key moment. A few years ago, my brother and I published a booklet containing the school documents, certificates, and drawings of our murdered sisters Márta and Veronika that we found among our father’s posthumous papers. These have also been posted on the internet, and the whole family is aware of them (link). In addition, we were fortunate to be able to ask our father about his ancestors and compile a family tree.
The name of our paternal grandfather’s father, one of our great-grandfathers, has been preserved: Bernát Krausz. He earned his living as a slipper maker, and his wife was called Mária Mendelssohn. We do not know their exact dates of birth and death, but I assume they lived between 1840 and 1900, perhaps somewhere in the Transdanubia region.
Our paternal grandfather, Lajos Krausz, as already mentioned in connection with the grave, lived from 1873 to 1924, passing away at the age of 51 due to illness. His brothers were Simon and Márton. Grandfather Lajos was born in Tápszentmiklós, and father was also born in this village. Tápszentmiklós is located near the Bakony Hills, not far from Pannonhalma, about 30 km southeast of Győr.
I wonder why we never visited this village with father. I don’t know. However, I remember well how much he enjoyed taking us, his young schoolchildren, on trips in the 1950s to the not-too-distant ruins of Porva-Csesznek Fortress in the Bakony Hills, which was also the scene of our first skiing trips, organized by him. For him, these trips were almost like coming home. Tápszentmiklós, as we can see on the map, is nestled near the larger village of Győrasszonyfa. According to the internet, Győrasszonyfa had a significant synagogue and Jewish cemetery before the Holocaust. Perhaps the Krausz family’s life and social connections were also linked to this village.
Our paternal grandmother, named Regina Krausz (a very common Jewish surname in Hungary!), was the daughter of our other paternal great-grandfather, Márton Krausz, who was a teacher, probably teaching young children at a Jewish school. Only the name of his wife, our great-grandmother, has survived: Netti Plasner. They lived most of their lives in the second half of the 19th century. Grandmother Regina had four siblings: Janka, Samu, Izidor, and Vilmos.
TituszHard, Director General of the Pannonhalma Archabbey School Administration, a prominent supporter of our foundation’s activities and our friend, wrote the following the other day:
“On Sunday, I was cycling in Győrasszonyfa. I stopped at the Jewish cemetery. I found at least four or five Krausz graves. I am sure they are your distant relatives. Shall I take photos of the graves?” My affirmative answer was followed by: “Today, I went to the Jewish cemetery in Győrasszonyfa again. It is very well maintained. There is a picturesque view from the cemetery, and you can even see Pannonhalma in the distance. There are not many graves in the cemetery, less than 100. Based on the dates, there was already a small but viable Jewish community in the village in the 19th century.”
Titusz sent me photographs of four Krausz graves, among which I found the grave of Krausz Netti (1828-1889), who, perhaps under her maiden name (Plasner, see our father’s family tree), is identical to our great-grandmother, Krausz Netti, who bore the rare first name Netti.
Netti Krausz‘s (1828-1889) garve in the cemetery of Győrasszonyfa; Photo: Titusz Hardi Sept 2025
A Cemetery in Győrasszonyfa; Photo: Titusz Hardi Sept 2025
We do not know when and where our grandfather Lajos married our grandmother Regina. Considering the year of birth of their first child, this must have been around the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries. Our father was also born in Tápszentmiklós on September 1, 1903, the traditional first day of the school year in Hungary. His full name was Krausz Károly Bertalan. His second name was commonly used by family, friends, and coworkers as Berci. He was very popular, and many people affectionately called him Bercikém (a further diminutive form of his second name).
I don’t know when our family moved to Győr, or more precisely to Győr-Sziget, but it was obviously after our father’s birth in September 1903.
Father’s life in Győr-Sziget at the beginning of the 20th century
So, our grandfather and his family settled in a poor Jewish neighbourhood called Sziget, near Győr. Sziget has undergone transformation and some redevelopment only in the last few decades. However, scattered here and there, you can still see the former very primitive, single-story, long, village-like courtyards with saltpetre protruding high on the walls.
Paternal grandfather, Lajos Krausz – photo from photograph: PKR
Father was the firstborn in a rapidly growing family, which eventually included three boys and five girls. Our grandfather supported his large family single-handedly as an iron turner at the Győr wagon factory, the predecessor of the later Rába Works. At the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century, Győr underwent rapid development and became an industrial city. One of the most significant milestones in this development was the founding of this factory in 1896. We do not know how our grandfather became a factory worker or how he mastered the lathe operator’s craft, which was considered an elite profession at the time.
I glance at his friendly face with a large moustache in a prominent place in our family gallery, but it reveals nothing. Unfortunately, he died too early, and I am ashamed to say that I do not remember what illness he suffered from, although our father certainly mentioned it. Grandmother Regina outlived him by twenty years, sadly experiencing the end in Auschwitz, along with her daughters and grandchildren.
Grandmother Regina Krausz (left) and her sister Janka around 1895 – photo from a photograph: PKR
As a reminder, here is the list of the children of Lajos and Regina, our paternal grandparents: Károly (our father), Margit, Ilonka, Aranka, Bözsi (Erzsi), Nelli, Laci (1908-1931) and Zoli (1913-1986). I do not know the dates of birth of our great-aunts; they all died in the gas chambers of Auschwitz in the summer of 1944.
Father’s early years
As the firstborn, he attended secondary school and graduated with a high school diploma. He told us that he studied outside in the evenings by the light of street lamps, as their house did not yet have electricity and they used kerosene lamps. They had to economize on kerosene.
The Krausz family home on Győr Island in 1928 – photo from a photograph: PKR
We can only imagine the poor living conditions of a family of ten, with perhaps only a shared water tap in the yard and a toilet that was certainly located outside the cramped apartment.
Father, Károly Krausz, Győr, around 1925 – photo from a photograph: PKR
Father passed his Hungarian high school exams with honours in 1921, reciting Petőfi’s poetry in the presence of the president of the Petőfi Society, who had travelled from Pest to Győr for the occasion. He always remembered this with great pride.
Following the early death of our grandfather in 1924, he soon found work thus becoming the breadwinner of the family. I only know of one place where he worked, the Back Mill in Győr. As a grain purchaser, he travelled daily around Győr and the neighbouring counties in the mill’s small truck. He bought grain from farmers. It was not an easy job, and even under the traffic conditions of the time, there were dangers lurking. On one occasion, his truck got in front of a speeding train, and the locomotive swept away the cargo compartment along with its load. Father got out of the truck unharmed.
During those years, he considered his most important task to be marrying off his five sisters. He lived a full life, sympathized with the Zionist movement, attended related meetings, and numerous yellowing photographs bear witness to large, social outings, mainly in the Bakony Hills, rowing on the Danube, and skiing. Due to his obligations to his siblings and mother, he could not think of starting a family of his own.
Father (standing row, second from left) on an outing with his friends, including his future wife (seated row, second from left), circa 1930 – photo from a photograph: PKR
He married off her sisters one by one, raised his naughty younger brother Zoli, and buried Laci, his other younger brother. Later, Zoli also got married, to Márta József, and they had a little boy named Peti.
Father’s first marriage
Father finally married around 1930. He married Natalka Weil, who was a few years older than him and had a pretty, kind face. They had two charming little girls, Veronka in 1934 and Mártika around 1936.
Father with his first family: Natalka (right), Veronka (second from left) and Mártika (second from right) around 1939 – photo from a photograph: PKR
The children studied very well at the Jewish elementary school in Győr, and Veronka was particularly outstanding. As I mentioned earlier, we had published her children’s drawings, which miraculously survived and sent them to the Jewish Museum in Budapest commemorating the child victims of the Holocaust, as well as to a traveling exhibition about the Holocaust, and also posted them on the internet (link).
Veronka (right) and Mártika shortly before their deportation – photo from a photograph: PKR
We knew Natalka’s two siblings, her brother, Lipót Weil (chemical engineer, USA), only by correspondence with our father, and Aunt Fridka, whom we often visited in Pest. She worked as a seamstress in the post-war decades. We are still in touch with her descendants today.
More distant paternal relatives
Before continuing with the story, I would like to briefly mention the collateral branches of the former Krausz family. Three of the five children of our paternal grandfather’s brother Simon (his wife’s name has not been handed down in the family) – Rózsi, Bella, and Hédi – survived deportation and made aliyah to Israel. Unfortunately, we know nothing about Simon’s two sons, Miksa and Ármin. Father sometimes mentioned his Israeli cousins, and he even corresponded sporadically with one or two of them. However, this thread has been cut off, and we have never met any of them. Sadly, all contact has been lost. It’s a great pity.
Father’s closest family – composed by PKR
Father in forced labour camp and Russian captivity
Uncle Zoli escaped from forced labour and ended up in Pest, where, according to family legend, he dressed as a member of the Arrow Cross in the fall of 1944 and walked in and out of the Budapest ghetto, helping his friends and acquaintances who had been locked up as much as he could. After losing his wife and child, he met Magda, our future aunt, in Aunt Fridka’s sewing workshop, and they soon got married.
Father was also forced into labour service in the 1940s, along with tens of thousands of others. When his turn came in 1943-44, the defeat of Germany and its loyal ally Hungary seemed certain.
Father’s forced labour unit building a fortification – photo from a photograph: PKR
He did not serve on the Russian front, but was assigned to forced labour, which consisted of building completely useless and impractical fortifications, within the borders of the “reclaimed” Hungarian territories.
He learned from his wife’s, Natalka’s, desperate letter – which we have also published in their daughters’ memorial book (link) – that his family had been deported to the Győr-Sziget ghetto. I have already mentioned their terrible subsequent fate above. It is difficult to imagine how father could cope with this terrifying news.
The last news father received about his family, May 28, 1944 – photo from a photograph: András Krausz (link)
Russian troops advanced relentlessly into the Carpathian Basin, and the Hungarian army and Jewish labour battalions were shattered. Father and many of his fellow labourers fell behind the battalion at that moment and fled.
Unfortunately, they took the wrong turn at a crossroads and ran straight into the arms of the Russians, who were not at all moved by the sight of unarmed and persecuted Jewish forced labourers; anti-Semitism knows no boundaries. They were taken prisoner and sent to another labour camp for malenkij robot, this time in the Soviet hinterland. I know from father that he spent his captivity near the city of Taganrog on the coast of the Sea of Azov (link).
He was forced to do hard physical labour, and on one occasion, while unloading wagons, he slipped from high up and dislocated his shoulder, which caused him limited mobility and occasional pains for decades to come. Fortunately, he befriended a German military surgeon, the camp doctor, who recommended that father be sent home on medical grounds at the first possible opportunity. Thus, after a year, he was among the first to return home, where he found no one from his large family except his younger brother Zoli.
As can be seen on our father’s gravestone, ten small children from our family, including Peti, my father’s children Márti and Veronka, fell victim to the frenzied Hungarian-German anti-Semitism in 1944. Out of respect and as a sign of our love, here is their complete list of names: Márti, Veronka, Peti, Lacika (Margit’s little son), Évike, Marian, Anikó, Ágika, Palkó, and Lacika (Bözsi’s little son). To this we must add the number of adult victims who belonged to the close-knit family: five of my Krausz aunts, their two spouses, my father’s first wife, and my grandmother. The shocking total is nineteen.
I was able to meet one or two of the surviving husbands of our unknown aunts. While the husbands of Margit and Nelli, Dezső Fischer and Jenő Fried, did not return from the labour camp, some, like our father, survived the forced laboru. This is how we met Ilonka’s ex-husband, Andor Bakonyi, whom my father sometimes visited at his new family’s home in Győr. We knew and loved József Abelesz (Angyal after the war), Jóskus, our aunt Aranka’s former husband, who moved to Pest after the war, where he lived in his second marriage. In the 1970s, I stayed with them as a tenant.
I think I saw Bözsi’s ex-husband, Zoli Bandel, once. He emigrated to Israel with his new family in 1956.
So, 1946. Is it possible to start over in a situation like that?
Our parents meet
So, our father came home. But “is there still a home there …?” x
Our parents knew each other vaguely from before the war. They may have been on friendly terms, but their paths had not crossed. At that time, Berci found Natalka, Ibi, our future mother, met Géza Szabados. Berci and Géza also knew each other and had even been in the forced labour service together. Before 1945, the Jewish community in Győr numbered around five thousand, which is the population of a large village, where essentially everyone knew everyone else. It is shocking that only a few hundred of them returned, and the survivors were justified in thinking that they no longer had a home there x.
Berci and Ibi eventually found each other in the shrunk community of Győr. Their very similar family dramas and mutual attraction brought them together despite the large age difference. You could say that opposites attract: father was a rational, athletic individual with a talent for leadership and an interest in social and political issues, while mother was more romantic, looking to the past and unable to come to terms with it, burdened (or blessed?) with a father complex and a strong will. Over the years, the strongest bond between them became their unconditional devotion and love for us. The minor conflicts that arose between them were always resolved in this spirit.
Mother’s family: the Brauns and the Kohns
So far, I have mostly recalled father’s memories. It is high time to introduce mother’s life. We also asked her many times about her ancestors and their details, which enabled us to compile also her family tree.
A few years ago, through the mediation of Mari Takács/Friedlaender, mother’s remote relative who had been living in Canada since 1956 and had called our mother several times during her long illness, I got in touch with Gabi Bíró/Braun, who lived in Budapest. I had only met both of them as a little boy, as our mother kept loose contact with her distant cousins, with whom we were only related through our great-grandparents. Gabi Bíró sent me the family tree he had compiled, which included a large number of our maternal ancestors from the Keller and Braun branches.
Mother’s closest family – composed by PKR
I often wonder why people say that outstanding individuals come from old, historic families. What kind of glory is that, since every single person alive today necessarily comes from some ancient, historic family? Biologically, it cannot be otherwise. That said, I was equally amazed when the details collected by Gabi Bíró traced our maternal family line, the Braun(-Kohn) line, all the way back to 1791. That was when Jakab Braun was born in Kalmar. That’s quite something! I almost feel like a descendant of an ancient “Hungarian noble family”! According to Google, Kalmar is a Swedish city with a significant past. Could this be the city in question? Or perhaps Colmar, near the Swiss-French-German border in the middle of Europe? In any case, it is difficult to imagine distant Sweden as a place of origin. Jakab Braun’s wife, Hani, was born in 1794.
Braun Hermina, mothers’ maternal grandmother, was a direct descendant of Braun Jakab, who lived in the 18th century. Jakab’s youngest son, Dávid, born in 1834, may have had a son who was born around 1860, who was mothers’ maternal great-grandfather. His daughter, Braun Hermina, was mother’s beloved maternal grandmother, one of our great-grandmothers. She was married to our great-grandfather, Mihály (Muki) Kohn. I don’t know their dates of birth, but I would guess around 1890. They found their deaths in Auschwitz.
Before I get further tangled up in the incomprehensible family tree, let me tell you a story to untangle things a bit. According to family legend, our great-grandfather Mihály (Muki) was once visiting relatives in Pest. Our great-grandmother Hermina called them from Győr to ask how her husband, Muki, was doing. Muki…? Well, there’s a bit of a problem, he just climbed up… on the curtain rod, came the shocking reply… because the family’s squirrel in Pest was also called Muki.
My great-grandfather Muki, who was a livestock dealer at a coffee house, had probably never seen a live cow in his life, but he boldly, skilfully and profitably bought and sold animals at the “animal exchange” in a coffee house in Győr, along with other livestock dealers.
Our future mother in the middle, aged around 13, surrounded by her mother (our grandmother) Margit Kohn (first left), her father (our grandfather) Sándor Keller (fourth left) and our maternal great-grandparents, Hermina Braun (fifth left) and Mihály Kohn (sixth left) photo from a photograph: PKR
It is worth lingering on the Braun branch of the family tree, mainly because it includes some characters from our great-grandmother Hermina Braun’s generation whom we knew ourselves. These included Aunt Róza (Braun), Hermina’s sister. Aunt Róza lived in Pest until she was almost 100 years old, like a living fossil. Of course, when I look back, our mother also passed away at the age of 97. We visited Aunt Róza several times in Pest, in Trefort Street, where she just sat in a large armchair, hardly speaking, with no teeth left, and we, as small children, had to kiss her “prickly” face. I was afraid of her, which in hindsight was unfair. My fear was only heightened by the fact that her son Jancsi, who was born without legs, moved around the apartment on a low rolling stool with the help of pieces of wood he held in his hands. He was a really friendly person, but I was so anxious that I hardly dared to speak to him, and even today, the memory of him still horrifies me. I now know that my prejudice was based on his appearance. Aunt Róza’s other child was Aunt Kata, whom we often met in Pest or Győr when we were children, and who often looked after us when we were still little kids. She used to prepare for us our favourite dish, cheese pancake with a lot of cheese in it.
Aunt Kata told us that one of her uncles, Gyula Braun, a railway engineer, spent most of his life in Turkey. When he came home, or just visited home in the early 20th century, he gave his sister Kata a small Turkish table, which we inherited from her in the late 1970s. It is a family heirloom from the distant past.
Our great-grandmother Hermina and Aunt Róza’s two other brothers were the Brauns who lead us to Aunt Irénke Braun Takács, the mother of Mari Takács from Canada, and the aforementioned Gabi Bíró.
Let’s pause again for a moment. Aunt Irénke, Mari, and Takács Pista, Irénke’s second husband, left Hungary via Győr during the events of 1956. They spent perhaps one night at our house, and we were supposed to leave with them for the West. Together with my brother Andris, who was seven at the time, we waited for our departure in full gear, wrapped in several layers of clothing and wearing boots, preparing for the expected cold winter “hike.” At dawn, the prearranged truck arrived. The Takács family left, and we stayed behind. Seeing our mother’s objections, our father did not dare to take on the enormous responsibility of emigration alone. As he said, at the age of 53, he could not start another new life. It was around this time that our uncle Zoli set off for Australia with our aunt Magda and our two cousins, Márti and Magdi.
Mother’s paternal relatives: the Keller/Kolarik branch
I will now briefly turn to our mother’s paternal ancestors. I gathered my relevant knowledge also from mother, perhaps too late, when she could only remember the essentials, and even then, not entirely. This makes the overview necessarily simpler than that of the Braun branch.
On her father’s side, the Keller and Kolarik families may have become closely related through marriage in the 1880s. I know nothing about their ancestors. Their descendant, Jakab Keller, our maternal great-grandfather, whose exact year of birth I can only estimate, died in Auschwitz in 1944. Compared to our other great-grandfather, Mihály Kohn, the cattle dealer, Jakab Keller lived in modest circumstances and was a basket weaver. He married twice and had two sons from his first marriage. The firstborn was our grandfather, our mother’s beloved father, Sándor Keller, who was born in 1886/87 and was also killed in Auschwitz in 1944. Our grandfather Sándor Keller married Margit Kohn in 1919/20. This is where the Braun/Kohn and Keller/Kolarik families met.
Mother, the only child of Sándor and Margit, was born on July 10, 1921, in Győr.
Life of mother’s parents
Our grandfather Sándor Keller did not take over his parents’ basket weaving business. He opened a haberdashery wholesale store in Deák Ferenc Street in Győr, which certainly did not make him rich. At his peak, he had two assistants working for him. According to our mother, he spent his days from early morning until late at night in the shop’s warehouse doing administrative work: orders, shipping, inventory, invoicing, bookkeeping, and so on. He returned home for lunch to their rented apartment in Baross Street, just around the corner, where the family ate together.
He struggled with constant financial difficulties, and his wife, grandmother Margit, loved beautiful clothes and didn’t really care where the money to buy them came from. She cooked and supervised the maid, and strummed cheerful songs and contemporary hits on the piano, as mother told us. From time to time, she would sit at the cash register in the store, supposedly to help out, but perhaps it was just so she could find the money for her next dress in the cash register drawer. Mother admitted that she sometimes followed her example. Grandmother Margit was a full-figured woman who loved good food and sweets. Mother, as I said, adored her father, grandfather Sándor, and she was very fond of her maternal grandparents, Mihály Kohn and Hermina. Mihály often helped his son-in-law, grandfather Keller, out of financial difficulties. The cattle brought in a good income.
Grandma Hermina cooked the holiday lunches and dinners. They would gather in their relatively large, two-story house on Kossuth Lajos Street, not far from the Neologue synagogue in Győr. They rented out the ground floor apartments. One of the tenants, in those critical days, treacherously reported mother’s grandfather, the wealthy homeowner, to the Hungarian and German authorities.
They beat him for two days to find out what he was hiding and where. No one knew how he managed to escape for the short time that remained before the ghettoization and deportation. “Shhh,” he repeated, “I mustn’t say anything about this.” This is how mother told us, who lived a carefree life until 1944.
“Blue blood,” father used to say about her during their life together, half seriously, half-jokingly, such was the contrast between the life and opportunities of Győr-Sziget’s working class and the small bourgeois families of the city centre. The differences were tragically levelled out in the summer of 1944.
Mother’s youth
I have already mentioned my mother’s carefree youth.
Mother (right) and her friend, Juci Perl, around 1940 – photo from a photograph: PKR
Mother attended the elementary school run by the Jewish community, and Grandpa Mihály Kohn accompanied her there every day, calling her “little star.” Mother often mentioned the religion teacher, whom she disliked because of his strictness. With her parents’ support, she chose to continue her education at a commercial high school that provided practical skills, and even today I don’t understand why she didn’t graduate, even though she completed her final year. Was it a lack of parental rigor or personal will and perseverance? She often went dancing and to the movies with her mother and friends, sometimes even to Budapest to visit relatives, certainly Aunt Róza and Aunt Kata.
Being pretty, boys swarmed around her. In the summer, she spent a few weeks in Balatonfüred and Hévíz with her mother and grandparents. After leaving school, she had to learn a trade, so she decided to become a milliner. Her teachers were Bözsi Vogl in Győr and Klára Rotschild in Pest, but she only worked for a few weeks at the Rotschild salon in Váci Street, perhaps as an excuse for a longer stay in Pest.
So, there were lots of young men buzzing around our mother, but she chose the comforting security of a father figure in the person of Géza Szabados, a divorced man 21 years her senior with a child. This encounter came at the most difficult time, and their wedding took place in early 1944. Géza worked as the owner and director of a small freight forwarding company in Győr.
They were only able to live together for a few weeks before Géza was called up for forced labour.
Passport of mother’s first husband, Géza Szabados: – video filmscreenshot, 1999, source: USC Shoah Foundation Visual History Archive
Mother in tragic times
Mother’s life was torn apart in 1944 when her family was deported. She was only able to visit her husband, Géza Szabados, once in the labour camp. What a dramatic omen that this visit fell on 19 March 1944, the day German troops marched into the country. They never saw each other again. With the arrival of Eichmann and some German henchmen of his in Hungary, but above all due to the efficient cooperation of hundreds of thousands of Hungarian civil servants, gendarmes, and railway workers, orchestrated by Horthy and the Hungarian government, and with the tacit consent of public opinion, the dramatic events accelerated.
Within a few weeks, our mother and her entire family, along with the other Jews of Győr, were deported to the Győr-Sziget ghetto, then to the barracks in Budai út, and finally, in June 1944, to Auschwitz. From there, mother was taken to Bremen and Bergen-Belsen. She was the only member of the family to survive this tragedy, along with her husband Géza Szabados’ teenage daughter Panni, who stayed close to mother in the camp. Mother recounts her experiences in the camps in detail in her memoirs, which I have already mentioned.
Mother during a Holocaust interview, September 30, 1999 – video film screenshot, 1999, source: USC Shoah Foundation Visual History Archive
I will try to add up the murdered members of our mother’s family. I can count twelve people in the immediate family, but inaccuracies in the family tree and gaps in my knowledge make it impossible to give an exact number of more distant relatives. Therefore, the actual number is certainly higher. Mom never got over this terrible loss, even with her new family and two sons. Her melancholy, fears, depression, or, as people used to say, her “bad nerves” and perhaps even some of her physical ailments can be traced back to this terrible trauma.
After the war
Mother was liberated by the British in the Bergen-Belsen camp. She pulled herself together and returned home in the fall of 1945, unlike many of her fellow survivors who did not want to see Hungary again, where the barbarity that had befallen their families had taken place. She suspected, she knew, that her parents and grandparents were no longer alive, but she hoped very much that her husband, Géza, would return from forced labour. The last word she had of him was that, shortly before his release, he was being transported by train with hundreds of others somewhere in Transylvania when he had to get off at a station to find a doctor because of a nasty ulcer on his hand. No one ever heard from him again.
Strangers were already living in mother’s family’s former rented apartment in Győr, as the authorities there had wasted no time in handing over the vacated Jewish apartments to Aryan Hungarian families. He found temporary accommodation with friends. Géza’s former employee, Miklós Krausz, whom we had met as children in Pest, returned and started working again at Géza Szabados’s forwarding agency, from where he supported mother financially in the months that followed. It was a glimmer of hope that the colonial furniture set ordered and paid for in advance by our great-grandfather for the young couple before the Holocaust was returned in full to mother by the honest cabinetmaker in Győr. Several pieces from this set are still in our family’s possession.
Mother’s journey led her to meeting our father, as I mentioned above. Like Géza, our future father, with his additional eighteen years and vast life experience, became a solid support for mother.
With a few detours along the way, I arrived at the intertwined fates of our immediate ancestors, mother and father at the end of the line.
xxx
From this point on, a new chapter began, a new story, and perhaps someone will write that too.
xxx
In lieu of an epilogue:
Brother Andris (right, b. 1948) and I, Peter (b. 1949) with our mother wearing pioneer caps, 1952 – photo from a photograph by PKR
Mother and father in 1955 – photo from a photograph by András Krausz
Father and us, Andris (right) and Péter, approx. 1955 – photo from a photograph: PKR
x Reference to Miklós Radnóti‘s poem ‘Seventh eclogue’
Based on my “Covid diary” kept in 2020–2021.
Written, edited, and translated into English by Péter Krausz
My parents come from different settlements in the country, but life brought them to Győr when they were young, they became citizens of Győr. They lived here for a long and important period of their lives. Everything that is about Győr, about the Jews of Győr, is also about them.
I had a beautiful and cheerful childhood. My parents sometimes talked about their family and the past, but very little about 1944-45. On the wall hung a picture of a little girl. When I asked about it, they would give me a short, reluctant answer: she had disappeared and never came back. I didn’t ask enquire further, and I didn’t ask why I didn’t have grandparents. I have no clear answer for not asking questions. Sometimes a comment was dropped: X was an Arrow Cross, Y was a good man, Z kept and returned the carpet… If a word about war or the camps was spoken in the company of adults, there was a deflecting, averting sentence: well, let’s talk about something else. Then silence. When Eichmann was captured, there was great excitement, perhaps even joy.
I lost my parents between 1978-1982. They left without ever having heard of the word Holocaust or the word ‘ Shoah’. Those were not “in fashion” then. The word deportation covered everything. The world has changed a lot since then. Surviving victims and sometimes contemporary outsiders have started to speak out. And I have grown old, and now I would like to recall seldom uttered sentences, to piece together memories, to record them. When I was young, and even later, there were people I could ask about my family from before 1945. I did not, and now I am faced with the irreplaceability of the answers I could have hoped for to the questions I never asked. How can I answer to my children and grandchildren if they ask?
As in many families, the suitcase that had long been put aside has turned up again. Letters, ID cards, photos, scraps of paper. From these and fragments of sentences from decades ago, I try to write my family’s story. There will be parentheses and question marks. It’s the only way.
The Adler family
The Jews of Kőszeg originally came from the famous Seven Communities (Seva Kehilot) of the Várvidék region, which existed until 1938. The seven villages were Kismarton (Eisenstadt), Nagymarton (Mattersburg), Lakompak (Lackenbach), Sopronkeresztúr (Deutschkreutz), Boldogasszony (Frauenkirchen), Kabold (Kobersdorf) and Köpcsény (Kittsee). Jews from the surrounding smaller villages belonged to one of these seven communities.
I can trace the written records of the Adler family back to 1834, to my great-grandfather Abraham Adler and my great-grandfather Max Adler (Mordechai). My grandfather, Simon Adler, was born in 1863 in Répcebónya (Piringsdorf), which was part of the community of Lakompak (there were six brothers and sisters, Simon, Lipót, Jónás, Zsigmond, Adolf and Amália). My grandmother, Röschen Steiner, was born in Kismarton in 1875. She and Simon were married in 1896. My grandfather had previously moved with four other brothers and a sister to Kőszeg, near Répcebónya. At that time they were quite poor.
The brothers mainly traded in crops and had little land of their own. Gradually they became somewhat wealthier. My grandfather Simon became a textile merchant. He became relatively better situated and respected, and soon became vice-president of the small community of Kőszeg. I have family photos of the Adler boys. No hats, no beards, no sideburns, just a serious moustache, like everyone else at that time, while they were very observant of religious rules.
The Adler brothers in Kőszeg around 1890, second from left in the standing row is Simon, my grandfather
Grandmother had a small grocery shop in Kőszeg, in Várkör, where she roasted and ground coffee fresh early in the morning for the waiting women. My father was born first, followed by his two sisters (Dóra, Riza) and two brothers (Elek, Ernő). He was the only one to survive the summer of 1945. Riza died of diphtheria at the age of 13, Dóra of pneumonia at 20, Ernő of kidney disease at 35, and Elek in a concentration camp.
Father was born in Kőszeg on 2 February 1898. The following is his story.
My grandparents and their children in Kőszeg around 1912, my father, Manó, with his hands folded
Schools
As the family was German-speaking, in 1904, before primary school, he was sent to relatives in Berhida to learn Hungarian. In 1916, he graduated from the Benedictine High School in Kőszeg. Yes, that was still possible at that time. World War I was already in full swing and students in military uniform were photographed for the graduation tableau. As a graduated conscript, he was trained in Bruck Királyhida (now Bruck an der Leitha) and as a flagman of the 83rd Infantry Regiment of Vas County, he ‘stood guard’ at the funeral of Franz Joseph (emperor of the time – ed.) in Vienna. What is more, he saw the then new Tschardasfürstin (operetta by the Hungarian composer Imre Kálmán – ed.) at the Johann Strauss Theatre.
The First World War
He was sent to the Russian front in Galicia. His company was lucky to escape combat. It was here that he first met Polish Hasidic Jews, which, as he often recounted, remained an everlasting memory. The image that he retained was of an old Jew in a caftan and hat resting on a roadside embankment, with a huge stone crucifix behind him. From Galicia, his company had been ordered to the Italian front, near the Piave, where bloody fighting was already taking place. They spent months in trenches and they wore handkerchiefs soaked in rum and tied to their faces to protect them from the smell of dead bodies. He was promoted to the rank of lieutenant, awarded a silver medal for valour and the Charles Cross. In 1942 he was ‘ceremonially’ stripped of these at the military headquarters in Győr, where he was personally posted.
When the Italian front collapsed, everything fell apart. He escaped being taken prisoner of war by the Italians. An acquaintance, a certain Antal Lehár, colonel, brother of Ferenc Lehár (Hungarian operetta composer – ed.), picked him up among the retreating soldiers on his horse-drawn chariot and helped him on his way home. He arrived in Szombathely full of lice and in wrecked condition, and was discharged and sent to Kőszeg.
In Kőszeg he helped in the business of his uncles (Lipót, Zsigmond and Adolf) until the beginning of 1920. His aunt “Mali néni” ran a kosher household. The brothers, I don’t know the reason, it will always remain a mystery to me, did not have their own family, but helped their brother Simon’s children in everything. She and her sister Dora lived with them.
Architect
In the autumn of 1920, he went to Budapest to enrol at the Faculty of Architecture of the Technical University of Budapest, but the student pickets of the “Turul movement” and the “Awakening Hungarians” (extreme right political gatherings – ed.) who stood guard at the gate would not let any Jew into the building, even in a lieutenant’s uniform… So, he went to Vienna and enrolled at the Technical University there. His studies were supported by his uncles. At the end of 1925, he graduated as an architect. He always liked to talk about the happy years spent in Vienna. He fell in love with Vienna, its music and culture. The Anschluss was the turning point. The last sentence of Chancellor Schuschnigg’s farewell radio address on 11 March 1938 was: “Gott schütze Österreich!”
As a young graduate architect, he returned to Hungary. On 1 May 1926, he found a job with the Stadler-Hornek-Reich construction company in Győr. He said that ‘it was here that I learned how not to work’. A year later, he continued working for Ignác Bruder, a certified civil engineer and master builder, as a construction foreman. He was involved in the construction of a huge five-storey apartment block in Nádorváros, in Péter Eőrsy Street. Bruder, the owner of the company, died suddenly in January 1930; his grave can be found in the Jewish cemetery in Győr-Sziget.
Father around 1932
From 1 April 1930, he became self-employed as an architect and contractor in Győr. He was now a real Győr resident, with friends and rowing companions. One of his first commissions was the redesign of the apartment building at 2/a Rónay Jácint utca in Révfalu. At this time, the economic crisis was already raging and he strongly advised the reluctant builder that the planned multi-roomed apartments for the upper middle class would not be leasable. Smaller ones were needed. “Well, but … Mr. Engineer, I don’t want apartments for proles” was the reply. Finally, my father’s arguments won the day. The two-roomed, apartments with a tiny staff room were all taken. “Mr. Adler, why weren’t you more violent?”, the landlord said accusingly.
As far as I know, years of labour followed. He was not bored. Orders kept coming in from factories in and around Győr. The Linum Tauszig Textile Factory was expanded, the Grab Max and Sons Linoleum Factory, the Perutz Cotton Spinning Company’s staff apartments in Pápa, the Yeast Factory in Ászár, the Alumina Factory in Magyaróvár were built under his guidance.
Among his residential buildings in Győr are the multi-storey Kiss J. u. 23/a, Aradi Vértanúk u. 13. and Árpád út 41. The ground floor of the latter was occupied by a printing shop with heavy machinery, now a clothing store.
His wife, Manci Schwarz, 1930s
Family life
He married in 1931. His wife was Manci Schwartz (Margit), the daughter of a textile merchant in Sopron. In February 1933, my sister Marianne was born in the Csillag Sanatorium. By 1934 he had completed his two-storey, four-unit apartment building of his own design and construction at 11 Dugonics u., on the upper floor of which his family lived and his office was located with a separate entrance. This house was also built in a simple Bauhaus style.
Years passed. With all the work, as he used to say, “only during the winter frost holidays could Manci and I enjoy a vacation, and in the summer I really worked my head off”.
My sister, Marianne, around1942
Marianne attended the Jewish elementary school in Győr. In September 1943, with great difficulty, she was enrolled at the Count Albert Apponyi Girls’ High School in Győr. (Numerus clausus, 6% ceiling!)
With Marianne, still as a lieutenant around 1939 in Esztergom; in 1942 he was stripped of his rank…
1944
On 19 March 1944, he stood stunned on the pavement of Kaiser Wilhelm’s Avenue, staring at the German military convoy marching towards Budapest. “Pista” he said to his friend István Udvaros, the leader of the Social Democrats in Győr, who was standing next to him, “This is an occupation!” “But come on, my dear friend, Manó, what do you mean?! They are just marching across the country” was the reply.
I will not write about the events of the following months, about the scandalous world record of the collaborationist Hungarian administration. Many people have written about it many times. Many more have whitewashed it and still do.
The Jews of Győr were first rounded up in the Győr-Sziget ghetto and then, at the beginning of June, they were herded on foot to the barrack camp on Budai út. Here too, he stayed with his wife and little daughter. Around 10 June 1944, the Hungarian army came to the Budai út barrack ghetto in Győr and “were recruiting volunteers”. „Those who signed up for auxiliary labour service would have their families exempted from deportation to Germany” they said.
He made up his mind, applied in agreement with Manci and said goodbye to his wife and daughter in a couple of minutes. So, he first became a resident of the Igmánd fortress in Komárom, then a member of the 102/209 and 102/303 labour force units.
His loyal construction supervisor over the years, József Hambeisz, was brave and honourable. He rode his bicycle between the Budai út and Komárom. He carried the letters between my father and Manci. I don’t know the “how”. Manci’s letters have survived. They were full of hope, strength, optimism and total ignorance. She suspected nothing. Her last, pencilled, disappointed farewell letter was written on the night of 14 June: ‘We nevertheless have to go. The alarm is at four in the morning and we are leaving. But I am strong. You must be strong too.” Manci and her 11-year-old daughter arrived at their final destination with the second Győr transport on 17 June.
I can follow his labour service time because he corresponded with his brother Elek from Szombathely, also in labour service. Elek’s last letter was dated 7 November 1944 from Abda. After that he disappeared without a trace. My father visited Abda in 1945 when the Radnóti (a Hungarian poet – ed.) was exhumed. Maybe. But in vain… I learned the truth in 2011. Elek’s company was handed over to the Germans. “On 24 November 1944 he was registered in Sachsenhausen concentration camp under number 116509. From there he was transferred to Ohrdruf KZ. His further fate is unknown,” said the documentation museum centre there.
My father’s fate was more fortunate. He worked in the bauxite mine in Gánt. The commanding officers and the company’s soldiers seem to have been humane. One of them was the military officer, István Dobi from the small farmers’ party. Father befriended him who helped where he could. They met again after 1945. József Hambeisz faithfully followed him here too. He brought food and clean clothes. In November 1944, after the Arrow Cross’ coup d’état, the labour service companies under the jurisdiction of the army were abolished. They had to be handed over in groups to the Germans. His company was lucky for some reason unknown to me. He kept his ‘demobilisation ticket’ 1460/944 dated 19 November 1944, which meant the end of his labour service.
As a “ghetto orderly” in Pest, 13 January 1944
After liberation
From Gánt he set off for Budapest. A passing German military truck picked him up. Austrian soldiers were sitting in the back. They opened up to his impeccable Viennese dialect. “They hated Hitler, the bastard, a lot,” he recounted to me. In Budapest, he found refuge at 19 Dob utca, where several of his Győr acquaintances were already squatting. Somehow, he also got a ghetto security card, which gave him access to the ghetto day and night. But that was no life insurance either. On one occasion, the Arrow Cross troops broke into the house and took 10 or so people on the ground floor to “loading work”. Kata Tenner (later Mrs Vadas) from Győr, who was just stirring up some porridge there, suddenly made my skinny father duck down in the corner and put a big pot over his shoulders. A returning Arrow Cross was looking for him: “Where is the man with glasses?” “He went out with you!” was Kata’s reply. The men who had been driven out never returned. On 18 January the ghetto was liberated.
Pass for free movement 4 days after the liberation of the ghetto in Pest, 22 January 1945
As an architect, on 22 January, he received a printed (!) identity card in Russian and Hungarian, “… indispensable at work, not to be arrested on the street, not to be taken to another job …”. The liberated Pest side was only slowly crawling out of the ruins when he was approached by the Pest management office of Magyaróvár Alumina RT. They knew him well from his work in the Mosonmagyaróvár. He was honoured, it was a real “kavod” (כבוד– ed.), to immediately receive perhaps 1 000 Pengő (Hungarian currency of the time – ed.) as an advance for future work. At that time, it was still an important amount. He bought himself some decent clothes and a handful of Versatil pencils in a doorway. He was already thinking about work.
On 28 March 1945, Győr was liberated. He returned home in mid-April. József Hambeisz somehow managed to keep his flat in Dugonics Street, which was empty, though after the bombings all glass windows were broken. It was not easy to get glass then. I remember that even in 1960 there were two or three pieces of glass in a window frame stuck together. The house across the street was bombed.
Pass to leave for Győr, 22 February 1945
Waiting. He waited for his family to return. “I’m waiting for Manci and my playmate, ‘Mamika’, Marianne,” he wrote to his brother-in-law in Sopron, who had also escaped. I don’t know what he really knew, what he wanted to know, since the deportees had already started to return during the summer. The JOINT in Győr was assisting the returnees and those passing through. He got typhoid fever and was admitted to the hospital in Győr. István Udvaros, the local leader of the Social Democratic Party, who was then mayor of Győr, ordered nuns to his bedside 24 hours a day. He recovered. “It is not thanks to my wits that I survived”, he said recalling those months.
He survived, alone of his immediate and extended family. 47 years old at the time. His life was far from over after the terrible tragedy, but that is another story.
In 1946, the following names were carved on the back of my grandfather’s gravestone, who died “just in time”, in the cemetery of Kőszeg: father’s wife, Mrs M. Adler, Manci Schwartz (1910-1944); my sister Marianne Adler (1933-1944); my grandmother, Simonné Adler, Steiner Röschen (1875-1944); my grandfather’s brothers and sisters,: Adolf Adler (1866-1944), Amália Adler (1871-1944), Zsigmond Adler (1873-1944), my father’s brother: Elek Adler (1901-1944) and his wife Olga Koritschoner (1909-1945).
The photographs were provided by György Adler.
Edited and translated into English by Péter Krausz.
Published in the periodical Kitaibelia[1], Vol. 21, No. 2 (2016) – edition commemorating Sándor Polgár, 1 July 2016
Botanical research and teaching were the two main focuses of my Grandfather’s work. His own botanical publications and the memoirs of colleagues and students bear witness to this. His work as a teacher, his interest in his students and his social attitude, especially towards poorer students, have been described by others. Many of his students chose science as a career and achieved considerable success in this field. For example, Leslie Zechmeister (Caltech), Ernő Winter, Bálint Zólyomi. Over the years, I have also had the pleasure of meeting some of his lesser-known students, all of whom remembered my Grandfather with great respect and even affection. They unanimously emphasised my Grandfather’s extraordinary diligence, sense of duty and high moral standards. Over the years, colleagues and pupils have often become friends, and in several memoirs they have praised his human character.
Dávid Schmidt writes about Dr Sándor Polgár (1876-1944) in a scientific paper entitled “140 years since Dr. Sándor Polgár was born” – excerpt[2]
Dr Sándor Polgár was the most important botanist of Győr county. The most outstanding achievements of his work were in the fields of floristics, plant geography, taxonomy and adventive flora research. His work, The Flora of Győr County, published in 1941, was one of the most modern monographs of its time and is still widely cited today. He identified and described one of the rarest perennial plants of our country, Ornithogalum ×degenianum. He was an intensive herbarium collector, with more than 20,000 collected sheets. As a teacher at the Hungarian Royal State High School (now Révai Gymnasium – ed.) he taught for 35 years, where his practical methods and love of the subject helped to instil a sense of responsibility for nature in generations.
Sándor Polgár in the field (1930s) (collection of Anna Menzl – Zurich) – source: Kitaibelia Archivum
“For anyone with even a small appreciation for the beauty of flora who makes repeated trips to the fields of the tumbleweed or corispermum, or to the neighbouring poplar woods, each trip rewards his efforts with a new discovery.” This sentence reflects the spirit of Sándor Polgár and his relationship to his chosen science. He was understanding and open-hearted towards his students, in whom he fostered a love of nature through his practical teaching methods. As a botanical researcher, he was a true scholar organising and publishing his professional work with extraordinary diligence and thoroughness.
I was born during the 2nd WW, so I have no personal memory of my Grandfather. What I tell you here I have heard from the few surviving family members, mainly my mother and her contemporaries. They, too, just as my Grandfather’s students, invariably spoke of Sándor or “Master” with great respect and appreciation. As a private person, of course, his family knew him best.
Both my Grandfather’s and my Grandmother’s (née Margit Csillag) families had lived in Győr and Komárom counties for generations, where they felt at home.
My Grandfather was born in Győr, while his father, Farkas Pollák, was recorded in Győr and Bőny already in 1844. According to the family’s knowledge, he was a judge in Bőny for a time. When, at the beginning of the 20th century, Jews were obliged to produce documents to prove their Hungarian identity, the documents revealed that Farkas Pollák had taken part in the Hungarian War of Independence in 1848 and had served under Klapka in Komárom (General György Klapka, a legendary military figure of the War of Independence – ed.). I know from the registers of the Győr Jewish Community that Farkas Pollák changed his name to Polgár in 1876, when the law allowed it (Order 6487/900 of the Ministry of the Interior of the Hungarian State). His wife, my Grandfather’s mother, Katalin Teller, was from Komárom (town along the river Danube, 40 kms eastwards from Győr – ed.).
My grandmother was born in Ászár (village 36 kms south-east from Győr), from where the family and 7 children later moved to Győr. So, in my childhood I often heard about the settlements of this area, Bőny, Mór, Ászár, Kisbér.
Both of my Grandparents lived in Győr until their graduation from high school. My grandfather, like his brother Viktor Polgár (father of the reknown journalist Dénes Polgár, 1912-2009), was enrolled in the Benedictine High School, which was the best secondary school in Győr at that time. Since there was no girls’ high school at that time, my Grandmother, her sisters and her cousins were just “observers” at the same high school, i.e. they attended classes in the back of the classroom without being called upon to speak and took the school-leaving exams individually.
After graduation, my Grandfather continued his studies at the Budapest University of Sciences (now ELTE – ed.), while my Grandmother prepared for a teaching career at the Budapest Secondary Teacher Training Institute, which, as a married woman, she later, much to her regret, was not able to pursue.
Sándor Polgár in the early 1900s – photo of the original: István Nagy
At the university, my Grandfather was an assistant to Sándor Mágocsy-Dietz (botanist, university professor, 1855-1945 – ed.). In 1900 he obtained a degree in natural history, chemistry and geography and in the same year he began his teaching career in his hometown, at the Hungarian Royal State High School (today’s Révai Gymnasium – ed.). He submitted his doctoral dissertation on “Aquatic and riparian vascular flora of the Győr region” as a teacher.
Sándor Polgár’s publication in the Győr Hungarian Royal State High School of Győr 1902-03 – photo of the original: István Nagy
My Grandparents had a wide range of interests. In the early years of their marriage, they were keen to travel around Europe. They stayed in Salvation Army houses, according to their means.
Later on, after 1909, when their first child, my mother, was born, my Grandfather continued his botanical travels. This took him as far north as Heligoland (island in the North-Sea belonging to Germany – ed.) and as far south as Crete. These trips were, of course, much more complicated and difficult in the early 20th century than they are today. For my Grandfather, the foreign language environment was not a problem, as he was fluent in German and French, in addition to his excellent knowledge of Latin. He also read literature in other languages.
Teachers of the Győr Hungarian Royal State High School in 1901 (Sándor Polgár, fourth from the right in the standing row) – photo from the original: István Nagy
His wide-ranging interests extended beyond his own profession to other fields, where his way of thinking was surprisingly progressive. He read and understood the works of Ortega y Gasset. The Spanish philosopher, who denounced Franco’s rule and was forced to emigrate, was a contemporary of my grandfather and represented the modern school of philosophy. Since at that time there were hardly any Hungarian translations of Ortega y Gasset’s works, I assume he read them in German.
He loved music. His taste was also progressive. His favourite opera was Bizet’s Carmen, which at that time did not correspond to the common taste of the bourgeoisie. But my grandparents were also active in the music scene, so it is not surprising that they invited Béla Bartók to their home when Bartók was in town for his last concert in Győr (Bartók emigrated to America in 1940 – ed.).
His trips with colleagues and students have already been reported on by Adam Boros (Ádám Boros, 1900-1973, botanist – ed.) and others. Family trips were mostly to the Bakony (hilly region to thenorth of Lake Balaton – ed.); botanical observation was also important on these trips. A frequent destination was the Cuha stream valley, which we often did as children, also following his example, starting from Vinye-Sándormajor, where we filled our bottles with fresh water at the spring. In addition to hikes, family paddling trips on the many rivers in Győr also provided opportunities for botanical observation.
You wouldn’t think that even a factory’s harsh surroundings could harbour botanical curiosities. But my Grandfather discovered that adventitious plants had appeared in the courtyard of the oil factory, a short walk from their Bisinger sétány apartment in Győr. The seeds of these plants had somehow found their way to this area with the other oilseeds.
My Grandfather drew the attention of his students to other areas of nature besides botany. A letter from 1905, in which he sends a scorpion found in Győr to the zoological department of the National Museum for identification, shows this. The scorpion was found by one of his students in the courtyard of a house in Győr.
He, his wife and family lived a quiet, almost modest life. Besides my mother, they had two sons, Imre and Ferenc. Imre died in infancy.
The Family Polgár around 1930 – photo from the original: István Nagy
His physician son, Dr Ferenc Polgár, was taken to the Russian front in 1942 as a forced labourer, from where two different death reports were received. It is not known where he actually died, because the so-called “dog tag” (an ID card necklace according to the Geneva Conventions) was taken away from him in Hungary amongst vicious remarks.
His son’s death broke my Grandfather completely. He did not know at the time what destiny was in store for him and my Grandmother as well as the whole Győr family. His botanist friends, Sándor Jávorka, Rezső Soó, Bálint Zólyomi, Gusztáv Moesz, Zoltán Zsák and Ádám Boros, together submitted a petition for exceptional treatment for my grandfather. As I know from my mother, the permission was granted, but someone “mislaid” it and it was only found after the war.
So, after much humiliation, my Grandfather, his wife and other family members were killed in Auschwitz in 1944.
His brutal death at an early age still fills me with infinite sadness.
Zurich, January 2016
Anna Menzl at the grave of her great-grandparents, Farkas Polák and his wife Katalin Teller, in the Jewish cemetery in Győr, 7 July 2024 – photo by István Nagy
Edited and translated into English by Péter Krausz
[1]The periodical Kitaibelia in botany and nature conservation publishes original papers on floristic, botanical-geographical, taxonomic, nomenclatural, ecological, conservation botanical and scientific-historical topics in the Pannonian Ecoregion (Carpathian Basin). Founded in 1996, the title of the journal is dedicated to Pál Kitaibel (1757-1816), the most distinguished and versatile Hungarian botanist. Publisher: The Faculty of Science and Technology of the University of Debrecen
[2]Published in the periodical Kitaibelia, Vol. 21, No. 2 (2016) – edition commemorating Sándor Polgár, 1 July 2016
Unfinished conversation with Péter Bánki, Holocaust survivor from Győr
Péter is 87 years old, born in Győrin 1938.
Our fragmentary and sometimes vague conversation took place by phone at the end of December 2024.By mid-January this year, we intended to clarify the ambiguous parts of the discussion at a personal meeting in Győr and Péter also wanted to hand over family photographs for publication.However, this meeting did not take place. On the day of our planned meeting, I travelled to Győr, not living there, and rang his apartment in vain.From the neighbours I learnt that he had been hospitalised for serious health reasons in the meantime.I managed to visit him in the hospital, but of course we were unable to continue our conversation there.When I called one of his sons after the visit, he refused any further contact.I could not find his other son.
This is our fourth post with a Holocaust survivor from Győr. I am not aware of any other survivers from Győr. I cannot verify with Péter the details of his life story learnt on the phone any more.
However, I feel obliged to publish these fragments as a tribute to Péter Bánki assuming the ethical risk of publishing this document without his consent. Dots in the text indicate a lack of data and uncertainty about the information received.
About Péter’s parents …
… I came to the world in 1938 …
… my father was born into a Jewish family. … he was taken into a forced labour camp … I can hardly remember him because he died in 194… on the Eastern Front, in the Tula region of Russia. I don’t know the cause of his death, maybe he was shot, maybe he got flectyphus … So I ended up half orphaned. My father’s death affected my whole life…
The Tula district in Russia – Source:Wikipedia(illustration – ed.)
Life after the death of his father
I have vague memories … for a while in Győr, in the 1940s, I was imprisoned with my mother because I walked down the street in a transparent jacket made of nylon-like material and we didn’t pin the yellow star on the outside of the jacket. I remember a big prison cell, we didn’t have a bed, there must have been about a hundred of us crammed together …
Another thing I remember is that my mother and I went to Bishop Vilmos Apor of Győr to request his help so that we could be baptised and escape persecution … The bishop gave us a Catholic prayer book … I remember that we were hiding in Győr with a parish priest called Szelestey … (Béla Szelestey (1903-1986) was a pastor from 1935, then a parish priest in Győr-Nádorváros; source – ed.)
St. Imre Catholic Church in Győr-Nádorváros, consecrated by Bishop Vilmos Apor in 1950, elevated to parish status in 1944; Béla Szelestey installed as the first parish priest serving here between 1944-1952.Several persons hid in the church crypt in 1944-45.Photo: Fortepan / Tamás Konok (source: Wikipedia; illustration – ed.)
June 1944 …
We were not deported …
After the war …
For a while I was sent to a Jewish organisation ORZSA (?) in Budapest. They looked after orphaned Jewish children and taught Zionist ideas … I remember we sang Zionist songs …
I have the feeling that my mother wanted to get rid of me somehow, because without my father, that is, without her husband, she basically resisted to take me in. She wanted to restart her shattered life and married Gyula Steiner, who was the owner of a locksmith’s shop in Győr and later worked as an independent master (Gyula Steiner was the President of the Győr Jewish Community in the 1960s – ed.) … I had a bad relationship with my mother’s new husband …
… I completed one or two classes in Győr, then I was sent to live with my mother’s brother in Pest, where I continued my schooling … after a while I wrote a letter to my mother because I wanted to return to Győr …
I went back to my mother, but I was still a burden in the family. My stepfather worked all day …, my mother was busy with the housework … Several times they told me, almost as a threat, that I would be sent to Pannonhalma to study at the boarding school there so that I would become a “little priest” …
After an argument I left our home …
How did your later life turn out?
I graduated from the Győr Music Secondary School, popularly known as the “Conservatory”, in violin. As I did not have a home, the school allowed me to practice for my classes there … later I continued my violin studies at the Győr Music Teacher Training Institute for further three years and obtained a teacher’s diploma … (by that time,music teacher training in Győr was connected to the Budapest Academy of Music, later it became an independent college, and, finally, this institution was merged into the University of Győr – ed.)
For a while I was a member of the orchestra Líra (?) … with whom we played in Balatonfüred in the summers …
… for decades I taught at the Liszt Ferenc Music School in Győr. … in the seventies I was a member of the Győr Philharmonic Orchestra and played also in the Győr Theatre Orchestra…
With the help of my paternal uncle, I bought a flat … and got married. I lived 58 years with my wife, who died a year ago of cancer …
Liszt Ferenc Music School today, Győr, 2022 – photo: győr+ MÉDIA – source:YouTube (illustration – ed.)
Today
After my retirement … I played the violin in a trio for a few years with other musicians of my age, then the trio was dissolved, for a while two of us continued to play together … today I don’t touch the violin anymore …
Péter Bánki – source: his Facebook account
I have two sons …
… sometimes I rode my motorbike to the swimming pool to keep myself company. Occasionally, I met a cousin who lives in Győrszentiván …
The phone conversation ended here …
The interview was conducted, edited and translated into English by Péter Krausz
Thanks to Marinka Spiegel for clarifying the institutional background of Peter’s music teacher degree.
Interview of Anna Menzl, Holocaust survivor from Győr
An oral history interview with Anna was commissioned by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum and is entitled “Oral history interview with Anna Menzl” as available in the Museum’s archives.Below is a linkand references to the USHMM registration.This interview is published with the kind permission of Anna and with acknowledgement of the rights of USHMM.
Anna was born on 13 June 1942 in Szeged (South-East Hungary – ed.). She has lived in Switzerland since the age of fourteen.
Anna at the Mayor’s Reception at the Győr World Reunion, 4 July 2024 – photo: Jewish Roots in Győr Foundation
Her father was György Menzl (Orosháza, 12 August 1906 – Egg, Switzerland, 1983), whose family originated in Novi Sad, Serbia, and moved to Szeged in the early 19th century.
Her mother Erzsébet Polgár (Győr, 25 August 1909 – Egg, Switzerland, 1983) was the daughter of Dr Sándor Polgár of Győr, a renowned botanist of his time (Győr, 13 December 1876 – Auschwitz, 15 June 1944; his wife: Margit Csillag). Another member of the Polgár family was Dénes Polgár (Győr, 1912 – Budapest, 2009), a well-known journalist.
When Anna was born, the family lived in Szeged. While her father was a forced labourer on the eastern front, the family was deported to Austria with Anna in 1944. After their liberation, the family reunited in Szeged and moved to Győr in 1946. They “defected” to Switzerland in 1956.
Holocaust survivors living in Switzerland meeting with the President of the Swiss Confederation, Karin Keller-Sutter, on the occasion of the 80th anniversary, Bern, 11 February 2025 (Anna second from left in the front row, the President in the middle in the front row) – photo by Tachles Swiss weekly
The very detailed interview in Hungarian with Anna can be found here.
Anna took part in the Jewish Roots in Győr World Reunion staged on the occasion of the 80th anniversary of the deportations, Győr, 4-7 July 2024.
Anna in the group photo of the World Reunion in Győr, Győr Synagogue courtyard, 6 July 2024 (Anna is fifth from left in the front row, in red dress) – photo: Jewish Roots in Győr Foundation
Interview with Tamás Székely, Győr holocaust survivor
Tomi is one of the last survivors from Győr. He recently turned 82, born on 22 November 1942. He was just over one and a half years old when he and his family were deported. Today he lives in Győr.
Did your mother tell you about your ancestors and the circumstances of your birth?
I never met my father, Dr István Székely. Two weeks before I was born, he died of a shot in the stomach on the Eastern Front. After my birth, my maternal grandparents, who visited my mother, Gizella Neuländer (Mrs Székely), and me in the Jewish Hospital in Pest, hid their grief from my young widowed mother as long as they could. Actually, my maternal grandparents, Ferenc and Mrs Neuländer (née Jolán Weinberger), lived in Kunmadaras, where my grandfather was a grain wholesaler.
My maternal grandparents, Ferenc Neuländer and Jolán Weinberger around 1940 – Photo courtesy of Tamás Székely
My paternal grandfather, Dezső Székely (Schwarz), was the owner of the renowned Győr-based stove manufacturer Rába, founded by my great-grandfather. Around 2000, I came across an old RÁBA stove that they had manufactured, which I happily bought and restored. I put it in a house on my weekend plot, from where – real bad luck – a burglar stole it.
A constantly burning stove type Rába in the early 1950s in the warehouse of the Golden Eagle Pharmacy in Győr Újváros, illustration – source: Rómer Flóris Múzeum
My father, Dr István Székely (standing, first from left), my paternal grandfather, Dezső Székely (seated, left), my mother, Gizella Neuländer (standing, second from left), my paternal grandmother, Maca Schwarz (standing in the middle), my uncle, László Székely and his wife, Katalin Klingel (both standing right), c. 1940 – Photo courtesy of Tamás Székely
What do you know about the circumstances of your deportation in 1944?
I was one and a half years old, of course I have no personal memories. I do know, however, that I was deported with my mother’s family from Kunmadaras, that is my mother, my maternal grandparents, my mother’s sister from the ghetto established on the territory of the sugar factory in Szolnok[1], where we had arrived from Karcag.
We were of the “fortunate” ones, because between 20-26 May 1944 ttwo trains left from Szolnok, one to Auschwitz, but ours ended up in Austria, in Strasshof, a concentration camp near Vienna. In her well-known book “Hajtűkanyar” (“The bend in the road”), Maria Ember recalls a small child locked in a wagon together with her, who cried the whole train journey. It was supposedly me, but if it hadn’t been me, it could have easily been me.
My paternal ancestors from Győr, like most of the Jews from Győr, were murdered in the gas chambers at Auschwitz on the day of their arrival. I learnedthis from survivors. (In this respect see: Survival or certain death – editor.)
What happened in and after Strasshof?
Strasshof was a transit camp. From here, deportees were assigned to forced labour and transported to other concentration camps.
Our family was required by an Austrian farmer to work on his farm, Blaustaudenhof, near the Austrian-Czech border. This farm is located in the Laa an der Thaya region, about 80 km north of Vienna. The adult members of my family worked here with other Jewish companions from August 1944 to April 1945.
We lived in the attic above the stables. While my family was working in the fields, I was looked after by my cousin Judit Székely, then 13 years old, the daughter of my grandmother’s brother, who carried me everywhere in her arms. Judit later became a university lecturer. A human-hearted Austrian gendarme got me milk every day, essentially ensuring my survival.
My grandfather, Ferenc Neuländer, kept a diary of what happened at Blaustaudenhof and of our deportation to Theresienstadt as well as our stay there. This diary, at least the part written from January 1945 (1 January 1945 – 17 June 1945) is still in my possession.
Short extracts from the diary about the hard physical work on the Austrian farm, the mental state of the prisoners and the arrival in Theresienstadt until liberation. Grandfather mentions Tomi (Tamás) by name several times.
"Blaustaudenhof, Wednesday 21 February 1945 Cold weather. Work: hauling wood and manure, and in the afternoon sorting carrots again, which is very difficult because of the cold weather..."
"Blaustaudenhof, Sunday, February 25, 1945 ... in the morning, while still in bed, everyone tells his dream ... 90% of them dream of home ... how they will get home, not because they want to stay at home, but ... to find a new home, if we cannot be equal citizens in our own homeland."
"Blaustaudenhof, Tuesday 6 March 1945 ... sawing wood was not so easy for the women. / ... it was harder than coning, picking cucumbers, winding, untying, concolizing, haymaking, breaking corn, manure spreading, manure spreading, ice breaking, wood chipping, cutting hemp, picking potatoes and carrots, pricking potatoes, picking beet seeds, crushing corn, picking beets, unloading beet wagons."
"Blaustaudenhof, Saturday 10 March 1945 Today, we celebrated Gizike's (Tomi's mother - ed.) birthday by having her mother bake some pasta ... Tamás very sweetly greeted Mum."
"On the road to Theresienstadt, Sunday 15 April 1945 Heinrichschlag (now Jindris, Czech Republic, near the Czech-Austrian border - ed.), we arrived here last night, but as in the previous places, they refused to take us in ... there are 200 of us in 3 wagons, Ukrainians, Russians and Hungarians, who have been on the road for 9 days without food, from one village to another ... on foot or by wagon, on tractor, horse or ox cart ... Many of us are often left behind and are forced to march up and down hills on foot. During an all-night march, Gizike (Tomi’s mum – ed.) and her little carriage with dear Tamás on it were left behind in the dark of night ... ... we met Hungarian troops ... who tried to help us with food from their kitchens, but as we can see, they don't have much either, because the Germans don't want to make up for their lack of food... We were put up in a dirty barn at the end of the village with a peasant called Schuster ... I slept very little, because I make a great question of conscience why we did not hide in Blaustaudenhof when my Katika and Jolánka had asked me to do so. So, I almost knew myself to be the murderer of my family, because I could see no way out..."
"Theresienstadt, Saturday, April 28, 1945 I shall continue the description of Barrack No. 4, Theresienstadt, where we arrived yesterday at daybreak, travelling in 4 wagons for 4 days and 4 nights. How we looked would be beyond the scope of the paper at my disposal to describe. What one can see and hear here, especially from those who came from the Birkenau-Auschwitz camp, would not convey the horrors not even paper could bear ... my eyes are constantly in tears and I cannot give enough thanks that chance ... has delivered us from these horrors, for they outweigh ... the sufferings of our wanderings, and even the hell of Szolnok ..."
"Theresienstadt, Tuesday, May 1, 1945 The peace treaty was signed today, so we can go home soon. The Jewish governor of Theresienstadt, Murmelstein, appointed by the SS, has resigned and has been replaced by Maizner (A. Meissner - ed.), former Czech minister. After two days all air raids ceased."
"Theresienstadt, Thursday, May 3, 1945 Today the news of 1 May is not confirmed, only to say that the Führer died a heroic death in the fight against the Bolsheviks, Dönitz took his place ... there is still no peace and we are here without any disinfection cca. 1000 of us are locked up in 200 square fathoms of fenced-in plank barracks ... indefinitely. The main currency here is tobacco and bread, there is Jewish money, but you can't buy anything for that or for marks, but for 6 cigarettes you can buy a good pair of shoes ... when I smoke, doctors, lawyers and better people come to me for cigarette butts ..."
"Theresienstadt, Sunday, May 6, 1945 ... news from the town: Czech flags pinned to the gate guards, Czech Jews in cockades and Czech Jews with armbands ... the people are cheering in the streets, the British are expected to arrive in the afternoon ... Unfortunately, we had a very bad day yesterday, poor Tamás had a high temperature at night ... he had inflammation of the middle ear ... According to an announcement today ... we are under the protection of the Geneva Red Cross ..."
"Theresienstadt, Wednesday 9 May 1945 ... after a great noise of fighting, the Russian officer in charge of the town approached the town and went to the town headquarters to report that the area had been cleared of Germans. He asked to be calm, they respected the rights of the International Red Cross, no one would be harmed and asked that the yellow star of the Jews be removed. There was great joy and jubilation..."
"Theresienstadt, Thursday 31 May 1945 Today ... I have become a member of the Hungarian Committee ..., the committee whose function is to arrange for the repatriation of the Hungarians."
"Theresienstadt, Friday, June 8, 1945 Yesterday at 3 o'clock in the afternoon we were put in a railway carriage ... in my carriage there are 34 of us, of which I am the commander, unfortunately I am not in good health ..."
The double transcript of the diary kept by my grandfather, Ferenc Neuländer, the manuscript was made in 1945 – Photo courtesy of Tamás Székely
As the diary shows, we were directed to Theresienstadt in April 1945. Here we were liberated in the first days of June 1945.
My mother’s and my DEGOB (National Committee for Jewish Deportees – ed.) card certifying my release in June 1945 from Theresienstadt, document dated 21 June 1945 – Photo courtesy of Tamás Székely
At that time, I was two and a half years old, but because of all the deprivation, I was no more developed than a one-and-a-half-year-old child because of the inadequate nutrition of infancy. At this critical age, I lived mainly on the carrots found in the fields, constantly chewing them, almost grating them with my teeth. The disadvantage of malnutrition was not really overcome later. Much later, while walking with my mother, we sometimes came across carrot rubbish in the street, which she said I kicked away to prevent passers-by from trampling the food. My mother would weep at this.
We arrived in Budapest by train from Theresienstadt around 21 June 1945. My father’s apartment at 1 Hattyú Street in Buda was bombed during the siege. So, my mother and I travelled on to Kunmadaras to visit my maternal grandparents, who had also arrived home. It was at this time that the official notification of my father’s death as a forced labourer arrived.
My poor grandfather Neuländer did not enjoy his freedom for long, falling victim to the infamous Kunmadaras Pogrom in 1946 [2]. I still cannot find words to describe this terrible event, this horrific manifestation of anti-Semitism, which took place only a year after the mass murder of Jews.
Memorial to the victims of the 1946 Pogrom in Kunmadaras, illustration – source: Wikipedia
How did life go on after the Pogrom?
Leaving behind the horrors of Kunmadaras, my mother and I moved to Győr, although none of my father’s Győr relatives returned. When I was four or five years old, I became the legal heir of the stove factory. At the age of 22, my mother took over the management of the plant, which at that time was mainly engaged in service work, until its nationalisation and liquidation in 1948. We received minimal compensation for the expropriated factory after the regime change in the 1990s.
I have fragmentary memories of my own from that period. For example, my mother and I used to get the stamps soaked off the envelopes of the letters that came to the stove factory, which we then put in an album. I also remember and know from stories that in the 1940s I became one of the favourites of the downsized Jewish community in Győr, as there were no Jewish children of my age among us.
In the beginning, we shared a flat with a Soviet-Russian officer at 42 Árpád út, who drank a lot and sometimes started firing shots in the flat. At the same time, he brought me chocolate (!) and tubes of milk cream, which was no small thing in those days.
Our first apartment in Győr, Árpád út 42, illustration – source: Google maps
Towards the end of the forties, my mother managed to buy an apartment at 23/b Árpád út. At that time, she remarried to Imre Székely (Schwarz), who was 20 years older than her. My sister Éva was born in 1950.
Our final childhood home in Győr, 23/b Árpád út, illustration – source: Google Maps
Where did you go to school?
In 1948, I became a first-year pupil at the Teachers’ Training School in Győr. I was the only Jewish child in the school and I remember that a young rabbi even taught me religion and tried to teach me Hebrew. He looked up my Hebrew name, which was Simson or Samson. I still keep my Hebrew textbook from that time.
A few pages from my Hebrew textbook, Volksdruckerei Basel, 1944 – Photo courtesy of Tamás Székely
I went to the primary school on Nagy Jenő Street, which is very close to the new flat and has been named after Miklós Radnóti for some time.
In 1960, I graduated from the Miklós Révai High School. I was not admitted to the university at first, so I became an apprentice technician at the MÜM 14 Vocational Training Institute, where I obtained a certificate as an electrician. Afterwards I studied automation and control engineering at the universities of Leipzig and Jena (GDR), but I dropped out of the diploma course. This was in the mid-1960s. I returned to Hungary and attended the Kandó Kálmán Technical College in Budapest around 1965.
The main building of the University of Leipzig today, Augustusplatz, illustration – source: Architektur und Medien
In the decades that followed, I worked in many different jobs and tried to make good use of my German, English and Russian language skills alongside Hungarian. In Austria I was employed as a salesman and in a bank, and then I set up my own company, a commercial agency. I also worked for a time as a commercial adviser to the Israel Advocacy Office in Budapest, which was the predecessor of the later Israeli Embassy.
I retired in 2000, got married and moved to Győr, where I still live today with my wife Márti.
What is your relationship to Judaism?
Emotionally, I feel deeply Jewish. Until I was forced to use a walker, I regularly went to Friday night prayers in the prayer room next to the synagogue here in Győr. I always attend the Holocaust memorial service at the cemetery. My heartache is that I cannot follow the prayers in Hebrew.
Tomi today – Photo: courtesy of Tamás Székely
I note with wisdom and joy that my son, born of a previous relationship, now 31, with whom I have been in close contact since he was a small child, and who now lives in Israel, is a truly religious Jew who also follows the rules of kosher eating. I am proud of my son, who has completed his higher education in England and Tel Aviv and now has a responsible job in an Israeli company. On my recent 82nd birthday he welcomed me in Győr.
I follow events related to Jewish life in Győr with interest, and I am a diligent reader of the Website and Newsletters of the Jewish Roots in Győr Foundation.
Tomi, thank you for the conversation.
The interview was written, edited and translated into English as well as the illustrations were inserted into the text by Péter Krausz
[1] Szolnok sugar factory ghetto: “4,700 people were crammed into accommodation for four to five hundred seasonal workers, where they had to spend ten to twelve days in appalling conditions, the vast majority of them in the open air. Their situation was made worse by the fact that on the second or third day it started to rain, which did not stop for five days.” (Szeged.hu)
[2] The pogrom in Kunmadaras was a series of anti-Semitic acts that took place after the end of the Second World War, on 21 May 1946. The riots, which started in the market square against an alleged speculator or ‘price gouger’, resulted in three deaths, all of them local Jews returning from deportation. A rumour that local Jews had kidnapped Christian children may have played a part in the escalation of events. Nine of those involved in the lynching were convicted by the People’s Court, some of whom were sentenced to death, later commuted to prison by the Budapest ordinary court. The literary version of the event is Pál Závada’s 2016 novel, A Market Day (Wikipedia https://hu.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kunmadaras) Here are the names of the three victims: Ferenc Kuti, Ferenc Neuländer (Tamás Székely’s grandfather) and József Rosinger (Magyar Narancs, https://magyarnarancs.hu/tudomany/emberevok-111640) (Ed.)
Talk with Ági Faludi, Holocaust survivor from Győr
I spoke to Ági by phone in last December and we met in person early January 2025. Almost the first thing she said was "... but I am not from Győr!". However, neither she nor I consider this to be an authoritative statement, since Ági spent most of her childhood and youth, 25 years with her family in Győr, which was so decisive for her later life. It was there that we met first 70 years ago.
When and where were you born, Ági? Tell us about your parents!
I was born in Budapest in 1942.
My mum (Aranka Grünbaum, 1914-2003) was from Nógrád County, one of his ascendants had sixteen (!) children. All my great-grandfather’s children were brought to school. We also had relatives in Slovakia. My grandmother kept a kosher household, and her family, like her ancestors, followed the Orthodox religious line. Her husband, my maternal grandfather, worked as a warehouse keeper.
Marriage certificate of my maternal grandparents (Adolf Grünbaum, warehouse keeper, b. 1868 and Gizella Frisch, b. 1883), Alsópetény (Nógrád) 1913, also showing the names of my grandmother Gizella’s parents (i.e. my great-grandparents), who had 16 children
From their marriage, my mother was born already in Budapest, on 21 December 1915. She had one brother, György.
Birth certificate of my mother, Aranka Grünbaum, born in Budapest, 21 December 1915
On the paternal side the family lived in Borsod County. Grandfather was a mining foreman, died early. My father István Faludi (Fried) Faludi was born in Sajóvárkony in 1908, he had one brother, György, who got a significant position in the Nyírbátor distillery after the war.
Birth certificate of my father, István Fried (Faludi), born in Sajóvárkony, 2 September 1914; it shows the names of my paternal grandfather Mór Fried, a mine master, and my grandmother Rozália Berger
My parents were handsome people. According to family legend, my mother’s beauty touched the poet Attila József on one occasion when they met. Mother and father were married in Budapest in 1939. Times were already hard by then. As I was born in 1942, so I will be 83 this year.
Mama and Papa, Budapest, 1938 (they married in 1939)
What happened to you during the Holocaust?
When fascism was advancing in Europe, there were still illusions and hopes in our family. This is evidenced by my mother’s “letter to Mussolini”, which she never posted, from 1933.
My mother’s postcard addressed to Mussolini, the “apostle of world peace”, front page, initiated by the Tolnai Világlap (periodical), 2 April 1933; my mother never posted the card …
My mother’s postcard addressed to Mussolini, the “apostle of world peace”, reverse, initiated by the Tolnai Világlap (periodical), 2 April 1933; my mother never posted the card …
Father was taken away very early for labour service, and was called up again and again for many years. He worked on the Eastern front in the Carpathians as well as in the quarry at Fertőrákos towards the end of the war. Luckily, he was not taken prisoner of war by the Russians. On his fortunate return in 1945, I remember exactly, someone dressed in tattered military uniform appeared in our apartment, and I, a three-year-old child, hid behind the tiled stove. The stranger who entered was my father. He was reluctant to talk about his years of forced labour, and so I didn’t learn much about his hardships. I do remember however that he had been seriously ill with typhoid fever, but had escaped with a vaccination, which gave him a very high fever.
Camp mail sent to my father, by Irén Berger, a member of my paternal family, 12 May 1941
My mother’s brother, György Grünbaum, had contracted phlebitis while on labour service in Gomel (Belarus). Gyuri, who was seriously ill, was set on fire in a barrack and that’s how he died.
Sports card of my uncle György Grünbaum, my mother’s brother, from 1939
My paternal grandmother survived the horrors, and my paternal grandfather died a natural death before that.
In 1944, before the ghetto-time, when I was one and a half years old, my mother took me somewhere by tram, but by that time Jews were not allowed to travel by tram. The passengers simply pushed us off the vehicle.
Eventually, my mother and my maternal grandmother (deceased 1966; my maternal grandfather deceased 1927) and I were sent to the ghetto in Pest, in Rumbach Sebestyén Street, where we had a hard time. There was very little food, we were starving. I was a little girl who cried a lot, covered in lice I had my hair cut with a “zero” machine.
There was an anti-aircraft gun outside the entrance to the ghetto. It fired frequently with a huge bang, shattering the apartment buildings and breaking the windows, which the residents, including us, tried to replace with furniture pushed up against the windows. It is important to mention this because 1944 was one of the coldest winters of the century.
Towards the end of the siege, we were so tired that we didn’t even go down to the cellar during an air raid.
My mother, in order to survive, that is, to get food, went to work as a cleaning lady at the Astoria Hotel, which was Gestapo headquarters after the German invasion.
But fortunately, the deportation did not reach us. The Pest ghetto was liberated by the Russians early in 1945. I have nothing bad to say about the Russian soldiers. They loved and protected the children very much; and even gave me chocolate.
After liberation, life started again. What did it mean for you?
So, Father came home and the family was reunited. We continued to live in Budapest. My brother Laci was born in 1946.
I went to the JOINT kindergarten in Páva Street, where we were also educated in addition to the daily care. We were also taken to Mount Sváb for a week to improve our physical condition. Chocolate and cod liver oil was often distributed there, the latter not becoming my favourite.
I started going to the primary school on Mester Street.
Father had a hard time finding work. He ended up working at a coal and firewood storing facility called TÜZÉP as a “timber bundler”. I remember this because it was listed like that as his occupation in a school questionnaire. He joined the Communist Party. In 1950, he was appointed manager of the Győr TÜZÉP plant. At that time the family relocated to Győr.
I continued my primary schooling in Győr, then I went to the Kazinczy Ferenc Highschool and graduated there in 1960. To my best recollection the teachers at the gymnasium were partly ‘de-robed’ nuns who taught to a high standard.
My certificate from the 4th class of the Kazinczy Ferenc Highschool in Győr, just before graduation, 11 May 1960
Where did you start working? How did your family life evolve?
I became an assistant in a Győr pharmacy, and then, while working, I attended a specialist assistant course in Sopron and stayed loyal to pharmacy work all the time.
Diploma as specialist assistant pharmacy, Sopron, June 15, 1982
I got married in 1966, but my marriage failed and I divorced in 1972. Later, despite being in a partnership for 30 years, I never wanted to remarry because of the bitter initial experience.
In the 1960s, my brother Laci studied electrical engineering at the Bánki Donát Technical College in Budapest, and later graduated as an engineer in Pécs. My parents moved back to Budapest in 1974. A year later, in 1975, I followed the family, and our 25-year presence in Győr came to an end.
On holiday, 1972
My father died in 1978. We moved my widowed mother into the house where I still live today. Mother left us in 1993. My brother Laci passed away in 2019 from cancer, which has plagued the male members of our family for generations, leaving me essentially alone. I have had irregular contacts with Laci’s sons, my nephews, ever since.
In Budapest, I worked in a pharmacy on Nagyvárad Square, and for a while I was “lured” to one of the Béres pharmacies, but from there I went back to Nagyvárad Square where I retired from in 1997 at the age of fifty-five, but immediately resumed a 6-hour-a-day job in the same pharmacy, which I gave up in 2010 at the age of sixty-eight.
Have you retained your Jewish identity?
Many elements of it yes, but not in the orthodox sense.
My mother lived a very religious life all her life, strictly adhering to her family’s orthodox and kosher traditions. In ghetto times, she neither asked for nor accepted meat from frozen horses, since the horse is a hoofed animal, though there was almost no other meat available at the time.
I vividly remember that during his visits to Győr, the learned rabbi and professor Sándor Scheiber often came to my parents’ house to put on the traditional rabbinical garb before synagogue events and even to eat, so much did he trust my mother’s kosher kitchen. While getting dressed, he used to jokingly say, “my country for a clothes brush!”
Incidentally, in the 70s and 80s, I regularly attended Professor Scheiber’s famous lectures and events for young people after Friday night prayer in the József Kőrút building of the Budapest Rabbinical Seminary. Contemporary Hungarian literature was his favourite subject, and his thoughts were always a great pleasure to listen to.
Even today I light the Hanukkah candles, pray with my eyes closed and my long deceased mother, father and brother are standing beside me again.
Interview and English translations by Péter Krausz
Photos of original family documents by P. Krausz, kind courtesy of Ágnes Faludi
“The legacy of the Mautner family of Győr and the Burchardt family of Berlin” (only in English;Győr Jewish Community series of publications, 2024)
Tünde Csendes, a PhD student at the OR-ZSE, has been researching the history of the Jews of Győr for many years.Her research focuses on the life of the Jewish bourgeoisieof Győr, with a special emphasis on their role in the development of local agriculture.
This publication aims to compare the adaptation of two prominent Jewish families, the Mautners of Győr and the Burchardts of Berlin, to Hungarian and German majority societies respectively. Micro-historical research will be employed to delve into their lives, examining their roles as industrialists, bankers, and landowners, and how they integrated into elite circles. The study will also explore their connections to other renowned Jewish noble families through marriage and analyse their loyalties.
Fülöp Mautner (1839-1917) in the middle, wearing a black coat and hat. His son Henrik (1865-1941) on the right side, Zsigmond (1891-1971) in the middle – source: here
I have had a fascinating opportunity to delve into the rich history of the Mautner family through primary sources provided by Albert Mautner.
The family history highlights the complexities of family dynamics, social integration, and the evolution of cultural and religious identities. The interplay between Hungarian and German members of the family, as well as their relationship to Jewish traditions and eventual abandonment thereof, offers a nuanced perspective on the diverse experiences within Jewish communities. It’s noteworthy how individual trajectories within the same family can vary widely, influenced by factors such as social status, personal choices, and the impact of historical events. The story of Albert Mautner’s mother marrying Zsigmond Mautner, despite vast differences in wealth and social standing, adds another layer of complexity to the family’s narrative. It speaks to the resilience and adaptability of individuals in the face of adversity, as well as the enduring power of love and personal connections.
Baruch Elias Burchardt (1797–1859), Henriette Hirsch Heiman (1798–1865) – source: here
Exploring family archives and primary sources like documents, letters and memoirs provides invaluable insights into personal histories and broader social trends. It allows for a deeper understanding of the past and helps to preserve the legacy of individuals and families for future generations.
Zsigmond Mautner, his wife, Lola Burchardt (Poór) and their sons Albert and Rudolf in Berlin, ca. 1954 (Albert attended the World Reuion in Győr, 4-7 July 2025) – source: here
The heritage of the Mautners of Győr In.: A szétszóratás útjain: Zsidó lojalitáshierarchiák változása. szerk.: Fenyves Katalin, Glässer Norbert, Zima András, 2024 (in Hungarian only)
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.
Vera Moskoczi, 1940 – photo by the courtesy of Susie Wagner
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.
Armin Lefkovics (Nagy), 1933 – photo of her great-grandfather by the courtesy of Susie Wagner
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.
Győr Danube River bank in the 1920s – photo by the courtesy of Susie Wagner
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. …
Jewish Officers of the Polish army, who escaped from Poland invaded by Nazi Germany on 1 September 1939, entertained by the Győr Jewish Community (bottom row from left to right: Armin Lefkovics, Dr Henrik Kallós (Community President), Mrs Kallós, Mrs Emil Róth and son, Dr Emil Róth, Chief Rabbi, Lipót Pollák; top row from right: Dr Miksa Szabó (Community Office Manager)) – photo by the courtesy of Susie Wagner (reproduced from the 1989 Reunion
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.
Armin Lefkovics (Nagy), December 1943, at the age of 88 – photo the courtesy of Susie Wagner
Back of the photo of Armin Lefkovics (Nagy), December 1943, at the age of 88 – photo the courtesy of Susie Wagner
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.
A few days ago, I received a message from Nicole Maderas, a granddaughter of Holocaust survivor Zsuzsanna Perl, writing from California. Nicole’s recently deceased mother, Eva was an avid reader of our website and sent us her family’s story for publication. Her death prevented her from attending the World Meeting in Győr (link). Nicole is organizing the papers of her grandmother. That’s how she found a poem written to her grandmother’s brother, András (his nickname: Bandi) Perl, who was killed in Auschwitz. In this poem the former playmate, András Szapudi, remembers his murdered friend, Bandi.
András Szapudi, journalist (1939-2001) lived as a small child in the neighbourhood of the Perl family, who were deported from Sövényháza, a village near Győr. He grew up with the Bandi Perl, who was a few years older than him.
Nicole’s grandmother made the following handwritten note about the Szapudi family next door (date of note unknown):
“His father, István Szapudi Laendler István (Pista) was shot dead by the Arrow Cross in an arbitrary action in January 1945.Pista was a half-Jew, but was born a Christian, a landowner and a painter (he studied at the Sorbonne).
I knew the whole family well.Pista’s widow was a Christian schoolteacher …
(Szapudi) Andris was much younger than my brother Bandi, but they played together a lot.Bandi was 13 years old when he was taken away (to Auschwitz) …This poem was written by (Szapudi) Andris in memory of our Bandi.”
The Budapest Holocaust Memorial Centre records confirm Nicole’s grandmother’s note: “István Szapudi-Laendler, as a Christian of Jewish origin, was not called up for labour service, but the consequences of the Jewish laws had already hit him and his family. In January 1945, he and his sister were deported from their home and executed on the outskirts of Mosonszentmiklós. István Szapudi-Laendler was a painter from Győr who became a landowner in Szapudpuszta. On 21 July 1945, mass graves were discovered on the outskirts of Mosonszentmiklós. In one of the pits, the bodies of István and Erna Laendler Laendler were found under the carcass of a dead colt. Their lives had been put out by the Arrow Cross.” Another source tells us that ” they hid a British pilot who crashed in an air battle over the Hanság”.
András Szapudi, the son of István Szapudi-Laendler, graduated as a teacher in 1958, as a journalist in 1964, and as a teacher of Hungarian literature and history in 1971. He worked for the Győr daily Kisalföld and later for several newspapers in Somogy County. He has published nine volumes of short stories, novels and poems. He has been awarded numerous literary prizes.
Here’s Szapudi’s disturbing testimony about Bandi murdered at the age of 13. The date and circumstances of the poem’s inception are not known. Its publication is a modest memorial to Bandi and other innocent victims. The poem has reached me in two parts, almost in fragments, and I am not aware of its earlier publication.
András Szapudi I would have gone for you
I confess Bandi, - because I must confess - that sometimes the most beautiful, the most harmless clouds I can't observe, and often, - when the wind blows smoke in my face - silenced I'm and overcome with sadness, like a thunderbolt hits a branch singing of buds I confess thinking of thee Bandi, /you are smoke and ashes in a cloud/ a wandered friend, who at the age of six abandoned me on the sand of the playground
You were born - I know - before me and yet now /I boast of years taken/ I am older than thou! - Oh, because thou hast not grown wolf-black, Thou didst not go after fair maidens Thou didst not enlist as a soldier, nor fought with storms of Behemoth, Nor didst thou know how a man feels when first you're called to labour.
I must have been six ... A terrible thing happened... Someone climbed into the sky and stole heaven's shame tearing down the sulphur star of hatred and pinned it to your coat, Bandi You still came over to our house... You raised one arm above your heart to hide your heaven-abandoned star as if you, the little boy was ashamed of the law-fathers for their sins against thee... Yet you came over to us ... Goodbye you said going far away, and you promised me a coloured marble and a new horsewhip from a distant village /And I was glad in advance/ I remember: when you left through the little gate my grandmother wept - I didn't know why...
I wish I could have been a grown up then a real man with a gun who didn't seek shelter in a duvet, a cellar shelter, while a whirlwind of abhorrence was drunkenly dancing around his companions who did not look on "with tears and pity" the sheep-tame human flock sobbing in a ring of lead of laughing shepherds I wish I had been grown up then a wise, clear-eyed, true man - I want to be one day - who does not loiter idly, - with his fist in his pocket as a resting punch - when a moment of sin cried for help
Why was I not grown up then ... I would have gone for you, Bandi to the villages of strangers drowning in the mist where wolves and jackals ate the sticks I would have slain the seven-headed dragon to free you from his paws like the littlest boy does in a fairy tale to the beautiful princess - and now you would live, Bandi, and the February mist would not be heavy of your ashes, and I would not complain to my fellows, that sometimes the most beautiful, the most harmless clouds I can't observe ...
Translated by Peter Krausz
Post by Peter Krausz
Special thanks to Nicole Maderas for bringing the poem to my attention and for providing me with the sources found in her mother’s and grandmother’s (Aunt Zsuzsi and Évike, good friends of my family) memoirs.
Introduction and English Translation by Amir Livnat
The following poems, referring to the city of Győr, were written by the Israeli poet Giora Fisher. Giora’s mother, Miriam (born Irén Sugár), was born in Győr, and in previous generations his ancestors lived in the city.
Giora Fisher was born in 1951 in Moshav Avigdor, between Gedera and Ashkelon in south-western Israel, where he lives today with his wife and sons. He holds a master’s degree in Bible, and served as a Bible teacher at the high school in Be’er Tuvia. He also raised cattle and managed a large dairy farm.
As a child and teenager, he wrote songs and poems, but in his adulthood, he abandoned writing. He resumed writing after his son, Merom Fisher, fell in 2002 during an IDF operation in Jenin, in the West Bank. His first book, “In the Aftermath”, was published in 2010. Later, it was followed by the books “Life’s labour” in 2014, “What did you learn from the story” in 2017 and “At day’s bottom” in 2022. In 2011, he receives a prize for debut poetry from the city of Ramat Gan in Israel.
Giora visited Győr, his mother’s hometown, several times, and embedded his impressions in the two poems presented here. His poems refer to the fate of his ancestors and the rest of the Jews of Győr during the Holocaust, combined with Giora’s visit to the city years later. These poems draw a line between past, present and future, and between Hungary and Israel.
These issues are also relevant to the remembrance days for the victims of the Holocaust, and the fallen soldiers of the Wars of Israel and Victims of Actions of Terrorism, which have recently been commemorated. These remembrance days bear a recent difficult meaning since October 7th – following these events we are all survivors, and a bereaved nation. Giora’s poems resonate and shout as we remember the fallen and longing for the safe return of the captives and the kidnapped. May we never know more sorrow.
For the occasion of the Jewish Roots in GyőrWorld Reunion, I wrote a summary of the Gross family story. Unfortunately, we have very limited information about our family’s history in Győr before the Holocaust.
The Gross family, 1938, (from left to right) – Aharon (Dadi), Joseph Tzvi, László (Yehuda), Gizella, David, Otto Tibor (Yoetz), and Gustav (Elyukim) – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
Our original family name, Gross, was changed by my father and his brother to Ben-David (in Hebrew – David’s son), to commemorate David Gross, the father of their family who perished in the holocaust. Emphasizing its Hebrew name reflects a desire to honor and remember the family’s roots while providing it with a new beginning.
Growing up in Israel in the 1950s and 1960s, while Hungary was still behind the Iron Curtain, our knowledge of the Gross family history in Győr was limited. Our parents seldom talked about their childhood, understandingly suppressing the memories of the past and spoke with us only Hebrew. Fortunately, my grandmother from my mother’s side lived with our family so I picked up some basic Hungarian. As young people, we were too preoccupied with our own lives to ask about the family history. By the time we matured and began to show interest, there was no one to tell us the story. Most of the historical details we gathered are based on articles by Katalin Kováts and Horváth József about the history of printing in Győr and newspapers mentioning Gusztav Gross. These were generously provided to us by Ms. Tünde Csendes.
The earliest reference we found of the Gross family in Győr is of the great-grandfather of my grandfather, Simcha Gross (married to Reizel), who passed away on June 24, 1831. In 1850 his son Ahron, Ármin (Ignaz) Gross (married to Sheva (founded a paper and stationery store that also sold or lent books. The store was located on Hid 10 Street, which also served as the family residence until their deportation to Auschwitz on June 17, 1944.
Gross GusztávElyukim and Berta Breindel – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
In 1866 Gusztáv, Ármin’s son, founded a printing house and later became a publisher as well. This was the second printing house in Győr. According to articles, Gross Gusztáv is considered a prominent figure in the history of printing and book publication in Hungary: “The publications published under “Gross Gusztáv”, “Gross Gusztáv és Társa”, and “Gross Testvérek” where of outstanding quality and rightly deserve recognition by our contemporaries and future generations”. (József Horváth, Chapters from the History of Printing in Győr).
In addition to his contribution to improving the quality of printing, Gusztáv Gross played a major role in publishing, and their series of popular science books was a big success. By replacing the bookbinding from leather to cardboard, Gusztav Gross was able to significantly reduce the costs of the books they published, making them accessible to a larger part of the population. They were also considered to be the first publisher in the Austro-Hungarian Empire to publish paperback books. As a printing house they also printed various newspapers along the years.
Publication of Henrik Ibsen’s play Nora, 1891 – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
The printing company continued to operate for another generation managed by Gusztáv Gross’ sons, David (my grandfather) and his brother Benjamin, who passed away in 1941. During World War I both sons, David and Benjamin served in the Austro-Hungarian army. David was active in the Association of Book Printers, probably serving as chairman. All this ceased to exist with the annihilation of Győr’s Jewish community in 1944.
The family was part of the Jewish Orthodox community of Győr. The Gross family actively participated in community affairs, supporting yeshiva students through the tradition of “eating days”. (A common custom among yeshiva students was to eat their meals with families living near the yeshiva). The family took an active part in the community. A newspaper article from 1911 reveal that Gusztáv Gross, then president of the Jewish Orthodox community, lost his position in the January 1911 elections. At the time of the deportation in 1944, David Gross served as the chairman of the community.
Gizella and David Gross – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
My father’s recollection of his childhood paints a picture of a warm and joyful family environment, with five closely bonded boys. They received an orthodox Jewish education attending Heder and Yeshiva as well as secular studies from private teachers in the Benedictine Gymnasium.
1932 Joseph, Yoetz, Dadi, and Gustav – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
Joseph was a diligent student who got much of his secular education from teachers at the Benedictine Gymnasium. He thought very highly of his Benedictine teachers and was very grateful to them for broadening his intellectual world.
1937 Yoetz & Yehuda – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
As they did not see any future in Hungary, Gusztáv and Dadi felt a need to study a practical profession. Gustav was trained in the family printing house and Dadi was trained in tailoring.
In 1941, at the age of 21, my father, Joseph, obtained an Immigration certificate from the British mandate and emigrated to Israel. He left behind his parents David and Gisella and his four brothers: Gusztáv (Elyukim), Aharon (Dadi), Otto Tibor (Yoetz), and László (Yehuda). He later married Miriam Sternberg who escaped from Budapest with her parents and together had 3 children.
On March 21, 1944, three members of the family were arrested by the Gestapo: Gustav, Dadi, and their cousin, (the son of Benjamin) who was also named Gusztáv Gross (Gusti). They were held in custody until June when they were deported to Auschwitz with the rest of the family as well as the whole Jewish congregation.
The parents and the two youngest brothers were sent immediately to the gas chambers.
Gusztáv, Dadi, and their cousin Gusti were sent to Auschwitz II-Birkenau’s work camp.
In his testimony, dated November 1946, my uncle Gusztáv gives a detailed description of the events they went through during the 14 ½ months they were held by the Nazis.
The three joined the underground movement in Auschwitz and participated in the uprising of October 7, 1944. On 24 October, they were sent to Lieberose.
By keeping together and helping each other they managed to survive both camps. On February 2, 1945, they were sent on the death march from Lieberoseto Sachsenhausen. On the first day, my uncle Gusztáv was sick and was helped by Dadi and cousin Gusti. An SS guard noticed it and threatened to shoot them. Cousin Gusti replied, “You’ll kill us anyway”. The guard shot and killed him on the spot. Gustav and Dadi survived the death march and reached Sachsenhausen. In Sachsenhausen they were locked in bunkhouses where they were beaten and starved given ½ a litre of soup and one loaf of bread for ten people per day.
A few weeks later they were stacked into locked train wagons which made their way to Mauthausen for the next 6 days. In Mauthausen, they were placed in Gusen 2 which was a Messerschmitt plant. The conditions there were very bad and the prisoners looked like walking dead, they were in such poor condition that nobody could speak. At the end of April, they were sent back to Mauthausen and then to Gunskirchenwhere they were liberated by the American forces on May 5, 1945. Needless to say, they were in very poor condition.
Gusztáv Gross’ prisoner personal card in Mauthausen, Yad Vashem Archive – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
Upon returning to Hungary, Dadi described his feelings in a letter to my father:
“… I am really restless and with God’s help I want to get out of this troubled country with bad memories. I will succeed, but the occupation authorities violate basic conditions of democracy, the right to move freely. But I still hope that I will succeed.
I really want to be finally “home”, because I’ve been tossing and turning here and there for more than two years. …
With love, Dadi
Budapest, 11 June 1946”
Dadi’s letter to my father, Budapest, 11 June 1946 – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
In 1946 Gusztáv and Dadi emigrated to Israel, where they both married and started families.
The three surviving brothers, from left to right: Dadi, holding his daughter Varda, Gustav, and Joseph, Israel, 1949 – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
Tragically, Aharon (Dadi) was killed in action in 1949, leaving his wife Hannah Abeles (a Holocaust survivor from Vas), and a 20-month-old daughter, Varda. His death deeply shocked the family that just returned from the ashes.
Born in 1951, I was named Aharon after my uncle.
Gusztáv married Frida Kochen (also a Holocaust survivor from Ratibor, (then Germany, now Poland) and had 2 children.
My father, Joseph, passed away in 1986 at age 65. Joseph was a world-renowned sociologist and a pioneer in the field of sociology of science. He served as a professor at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and the University of Chicago. His books were translated into numerous languages. In 1978, Joseph was invited to Budapest by the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. This was his only return to Hungary since departing it in 1941.
Gusztáv passed away in 1988 at age 65. He continued the family professional tradition and organized a cooperative book publishing and ventures in the textile industry, inspired by his maternal lineage, the Mayer family.
Although they did occasionally speak about their past, both Joseph and Gusztáv did not dwell on the harsh parts. They were grateful for the opportunity to build a new life, they worked hard, became successful in their professions, and kept very close family relationships between the three families – a bond that has lasted since.
Professor Joseph Ben David (Gross) (left) with President Lyndon B. Jonson(right), the 36th President of USA, 1968 – photo by the courtesy of Aharon Moshe (Ronnie) Ben David
Four of the six children of Joseph, Gusztáv, and Aharon will be attending the Jewish Roots in Győr World Reunion. On behalf of all the descendants of David and Gizella Gross, we would like to thank the organizers for making this event come to life.
Israel, April 2024
Sources:
Articles by Katalin Kováts and Horváth József about the history of printing in Győr
Newspaper cuts on Gustav Gross generously provided by Ms. Tünde Csendes
Chapters about the History of Printing in Győr, by József Horváth
Gustav Gross’ testimony, November 1946
Yad Vashem Archive
Biographical Notes on Professor Joseph Ben-David, by Mara Beller, 26 December 1985
With My Own Eyes, the autobiography of a historian, by Jackob Katz
Not a blatant case that would shock in its singular horror
In 1957, Yad Vashem launched an international essay competition with the aim of collecting personal memories about the decimated Jewish communities and the fate of Jews during the Shoah, for future generations. The contest aimed to maintain the memories of the Holocaust and ensure that the world would never forget the atrocities committed against the Jewish people. Participants could choose to write about a single event or narrate their story throughout the entire war. The personal stories could be related to various aspects such as the ghettos, labour battalions, deportation, concentration camps, liberation, escape or aliya.
Entrants were requested to write about community life, anti-Semitic politics, resistance, and relations between Jews and non-Jews during the Holocaust. It was important for authors to describe not only general events but also daily life. Yad Vashem emphasized that authors should only include their personal stories and not rely on hearsay or what they had read about. They were promised that their memoirs would only be seen by historians and that nothing would be published without their consent. However, today the pieces are available in digitised form on the Yad Vashem website. Most likely, they have not yet been used in publications.
Two hundred works were submitted from fifteen countries. This is a significant number, considering that twelve years after the war, Holocaust survivors still rarely spoke about their experiences, and even then, mostly among close family only.
Amongst others, entries were received from authors born or living in Hungary or in Hungarian-inhabited areas of the surrounding countries. These include Éva Beregi, who managed to leave the country on a Kasztner train, Gábor Horovitz, who wrote a play in Hebrew about his experiences, or Zvi Erez, who was rescued by Raoul Wallenberg.
The first page of Helén Keller’s submission to the Yad Vashem under file number O.39/65
A Győr-born survivor, Helén Keller submitted a piece too, which is to be found in the Yad Vashem Archive under file number O.39/65. In six pages, she summarises her experiences of the Holocaust and the journey with her husband to Eretz Israel in a clear, curt, and objective manner. At the onset of the essay, the author reveals hesitating for a long time about entering the contest or not, due to previous rejections of her earlier poetic work by Israeli newspapers. Eventually, it was published by a Hungarian newspaper in New York, ‘Az Ember’ (The Human), depicted by her as “dogmatic Christian”. Her opus was titled ‘Hell Unleashed’.
Hell Unleashed – Az ember, 19 March 1955 – Source: Yad Vashem Archive O.39/65
Helén was born in 1928 into a Jewish merchant family. While most of her relatives had converted to Catholicism early on, her family remained Jewish, although they were not observant. In 1939, she was refused admission to the state grammar school on the grounds of numerus clausus. She had the opportunity to study in a Christian school where she was treated well and not discriminated against. However, her Jewish consciousness grew. In autumn 1943, she was no longer permitted to attend this school either. She became a private student at the Jewish school in Debrecen.
Meanwhile, her father was conscripted into the labour battalion in 1940, where he was severely abused, and subsequently fell ill, leading to his discharge. In March 1944, the Keller family’s store and apartment were seized, and they were sent to the Győr ghetto. Just before the deportation, Helén’s mother suggested that the family commit suicide, but Helén resisted, and the plan was eventually dropped. Although she had the opportunity to escape, she chose to stay with her mother: “I was unwilling to leave my mother alone. Today, I’m grateful that I stayed with, otherwise I would have never been able to forgive myself my mother’s death.”
They were sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where on an occasion she defended her mom, and had therefore a confrontation with the ‘Lagerälteste’. Her bravery earned respect, and the woman even supported her later on. They went through the hell of Ravensbrück and Berlin Reinickendorf-Ost. During a selection, her weakened mother was taken away but at the last moment, with incredible presence of mind, she managed to get her out of a locked room, which later turned out to be the gas chamber. Helén describes several other instances where her determination saved her mother’s life. In the last days of the war, they were forced to build a barricade around Berlin and were eventually forced in a death march towards Sachsenhausen. They never arrived there because their guards escaped and finally the Red Army freed the prisoners.
Upon returning to Győr, Helén did not stay for long, as her family had been stripped of everything and she was treated like a stranger. Instead, she went to Budapest. There she met her future husband (whose surname was presumably József, although it is not clear).
Together, they left Hungary illegally with the intention of making aliya via Italy but ended up stranded there for two years. They eventually got married in Rome. They escaped to France but were deported back. They managed to board an illegal immigrant boat in Italy. By this time, they had a baby already. The young family finally arrived in Haifa via an internment camp in Cyprus in November 1947. Life in Israel was also challenging. Helén’s husband, a sculptor by profession, took a job in a horticulture, then volunteered to fight in the first Arab-Israeli war, and later joined the police. Meanwhile, their second child was born, and Helén became a teacher. Her health deteriorated.
Here the story of József Keller Helén ends. Unfortunately, we do not know what happened to her later, and she does not talk about the fate of her parents either. According to a testimony kept at Yad Vashem her mother was murdered in Ravensbrück.
Testimony about the death of Helén’s mother – Source: Yad Vashem
“In my work, I am not dealing with a blatant case that would shock in its singular horror, Instead, I wanted to expose to our people the collective, terrible tragedy of Jewry; I want you not to forget! And do not let others forget!”- Helén József Keller wrote in the introduction.
Written and translated by György Polgár
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my cousin Esther Bánki, Director of the Van ‘t Lindenhoutmuseum in the Netherlands, who drew my attention to the essay of József Keller Helén,
and
Anna Rinenberg of the Yad Vashem Archives for the background information she provided. Yad Vashem file number: Yad Vashem Archive O.39/65.
Epilogue to the story of Helén Keller
Our reader Katalin Váradi, whose father knew Helén Keller’s father, wrote the following:
“I am quite certain that this is Keller Hella, the daughter of my father’s childhood friend Lajos Keller.
I met Hella long after the change of regime through my father. She was no longer a teacher but a professional accountant. Her husband, Menyhért Bar Josafat – from the city of Máramarossziget – was a very dominant personality. I think he was in the army at the time and was an internationally renowned painter. They had two sons, the eldest, Ici, an architect and father of four, who died at a relatively young age. The younger son, a policeman, became disabled and then happened to become a naturopath and probably had two children.
Hella has visited Hungary several times, including with her grandchildren. Once, at one of her earlier schools, she spoke to the pupils about the Holocaust, and they occasionally visited her father’s grave, as they had promised. I tried to track her down through my Israeli contacts, but as she had moved after Menyhért’s death, I wasn’t successful”.
An old list at the Győr community shows Helén Keller’s original and Israeli name. At that time, she already called herself Nomi Bar Nomi Bar Yoshafat
Her husband, whose Hebrew name became Yehuda Bar Yoshafat, created sculptures and paintings that sometimes still appear at auctions. This is what one can find out about him about him on the internet:
„Yehuda Bar Yoshafat (1922-1993) – studied painting and sculpting at the Budapest academy by the renouned Hungarian artist Kisfaludy, Strobl Zsigmond. During the Holocaust period he moved from one labor camp to the other, ran away several times and survived by miracle after he was sentenced to death. between the years 1945-47 he lived in Italy, where he hed his first two solo exhibitions. In November 1947 he immigrated to Israel. Between the years 1955-1983 he held 7 solo exhibtions of sculpting and painiting across Israel.
In March 1982 29 of his works decorated the Opera performance of “The Emperor of Atlantis”, written in the Theresienstadt Ghetto and performed at the Tel Aviv Culture Palace (Heichal Hatarbut) Charles Bronfman Auditorium. Was among the founders of the Painters and Sculptors Union in Be’er Sheva and the South.”
Yehuda Bar Yoshafat: Boy’s Head (bronze, 1980), source: invaluable.com
My thanks to Katalin Váradi for the valuable information and to Esther Bánki for sending me the Győr list.
The sad news touches us deeply. Eva Monastersky (Angel, Egri) passed away in California on February 9th of this year. Eva, a great mother and grandmother, a highly respected medical social worker in her active life, was a keen follower of the news of the World Reunion to commemorate the 80th anniversary of the deportation of Jews from Győr and the Győr region.
She has shared her family story with us back in April 2022, which reveals the Győr-Sövényháza origins of her mother, Zsuzsi néni, and she has also generously donated to the Jewish Roots in Győr Foundation.
We are very sad that she will no longer be able to attend the Győr Reunion and sincerely mourn her together with her family, daughters, grandchildren and brother who remember their Mother with the below lines.
EVA
ELIZABETH
MONASTERSKY
12/29/1948 – 2/9/2024
In memory of our beautiful mother and grandmother.
Eva will be missed by all who knew and loved her.
We love you bigger than the sky.
IMMORTALITY
Do not stand By my grave, and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep — I am the thousand winds that blow I am the diamond glints in snow I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning’s hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight, I am the day transcending night. Do not stand By my grave, and cry — I am not there, I did not die.
The father of our hero, Mihály Meixner (1856-1909), restaurateur, studied in Szombathely, and after moving to Győr, he initially rented the Hotel Fehér Hajó, and at this moment the idea of building a modern hotel occurred to him.
Built in 1904, the first hotel, named the Meixner Royal Hotel, had a restaurant, café, banqueting hall, upstairs terrace and several guest rooms. The hotel burned down shortly after opening in 1905, but was rebuilt and significantly extended by Meixner and his family with the support of the citizens of Győr and loans.
The building was bombed during the Second World War and reopened in 1945 after repairs. It was owned by the Meixner family until nationalisation in 1949. After nationalisation, the hotel was renamed Red Star, then Hotel Rába in 1968, and it still bears the latter name today.
The building was home to the popular “little Bognár” Restaurant, then the Magyaros Restaurant. A host of celebrities have stayed at the hotel on the edge of the historic town centre, which has been home to the town’s events and balls, from charity evenings to gala dinners and ballet performances. The hotel has hosted Ennio Morricone, film music composer, Ken-Ichiro Kobayashi, conductor, the pop band Boney M, David Murray, jazz musician, Levente Szörényi, rock musician and composer, liqueur producer Péter Zwack, Péter Bacsó, film director.
“Our” hero, the hotel founder Mihály Meixner’ son, was born in 1893 and deceased in 1948.
Together with his brother Ferenc, he became the owner of the Royal Hotel in Győr after the death of their father.
Mihály Meixner, Army Officer, and his wife, c. 1920-25, thanks to Mihály Meixner for the picture
In his younger years he served as a professional soldier in the Hungarian army and retired in the rank of captain. In May 1944, Mihály Meixner was called up again for military service and appointed commander of the Jewish Labour Service Company 102/301. The majority of the Jews who were drafted into the company were from settlements around Győr, such as Mosonmagyaróvár, Gyömöre, Rajka, etc.
Unlike most of the company’s officers and subordinates, Captain Mihály Meixner treated the Jews under his command with dignity and respect. The majority of the labour company was made up of young men who had been left without families after the mass deportation of Jews from the countryside to Auschwitz.
In the summer of 1944, the company was assigned to clear rubble in Győr. During this time Mihály Meixner managed to provide kosher food for those who strictly observed religious requirements. Using his contacts with nearby villagers, he provided the forced labourers with food in addition to the usual military rations.
During the Jewish High Holidays, he would lead members of his unit into the forest near the camp under the pretext of providing them with work there. In reality, however, the purpose of these ‘forest days’ was to enable the forced labourers assigned to him to have a day of prayer and fasting at least on Yom Kippur.
After the Arrow Cross party came to power, Mihály Meixner learned that the labour camp inmates would soon be deported to the German Reich. At no small risk, he informed his company of what was about to happen and provided letters of departure and military uniforms to all who wanted to escape. None of the Jews were reported to have escaped, nor were they tracked down.
Among the Jews rescued by Mihály Meixner were Michael Röder, Yitzchak (Ignác) Löwinger and Ernő Weisz (later Yehoshua Ben-Ami), who settled in Israel after the war. The survivors did not forget their rescuer and have taken the initiative with Yad Vashem to acknowledge the company commander’s lifesaving gesture.
Among them, they can be proud of Mihály Meixner, a man of integrity, courage, honesty and humanity, who was able to resist the howling wolves of evil and hatred. The great-grandson of the hotel’s founder, who lives in Győr, has provided us with a photograph of his grandfather, the lifesaver Mihály Meixner, as a young man, together with his wife. The family has also preserved the story of how Mihály Meixner once, in 1944, rescued a pregnant woman in labour from the Győr ghetto, drove her in his command car to the Győr hospital and “forced” the doctor to deliver her.
The Rába Hotel will be 120 years old next year. We hope that this anniversary will be a worthy occasion to commemorate not only the founder of the hotel, Mihály Meixner, but also the former co-owner, the lifesaver Mihály Meixner.
Erzsébet Kardos was one of the most promising talents of the Budapest School of psychoanalysis. Her tragically curtailed career, besides being unique and individual, also shows many of the typical features of Hungarian (women) psychoanalysts in terms of social background, women’s education, the influence of the numerus clausus and the persecution of Jews, emigrations, fields of interests, or choosing a partner from the same profession.
Erzsébet Kardos was born in Győr in 1902 in an assimilated Jewish merchant family. Her father Jenő Kardos (né Jakab Kohn, Hungarianized to Kardos in 1899) ran a men’s fashion store in downtown Győr (at 4 Baross Street), while her mother Teréz Eislitzer had a shoe store (at 12 Baross Street). After she was widowed in 1924, she ran the two businesses on her own; from 1927 at 15 Baross Street, at the ground floor of the family house that she bought and extended (see below).
Kardos’s shoe and fashion store, 15 Baross Street, Győr, around 1932 (courtesy of Attila Horváth)
Her brother Imre was born in 1904 and her sister Ilona in 1905. Erzsébet graduated from the state girls’ high school in Győr (now Kazinczy Ferenc High School) in 1921 (“well matured”), among her classmates was Margit Kovács, the later famous ceramicist. Meanwhile, in 1916-17 she was a private student, and between 1917-19 he studied at the Győr City Higher Commercial School.
Her desire to study, as well as the family’s financial situation and support, was firm enough for her to start university studies abroad due to the restriction of the numerus claususlaw. Kardos studied at the Medical Faculty of Würzburg University (Germany) from 1921 to 1923. She attended the Medical Faculty of the Erzsébet University in Pécs for five terms from 1924 to 1926, where she graduated in 1927.
Erzsébet Kardos, Würzburg, 1920s
Her letters to Ödön Bánki, a friend and for a while a boyfriend, contain much information about her circumstances and the changes in her state of mind during that period. They studied in the same year in Würzburg, where they shared accommodation for some time.
Erzsébet Kardos, student register card, Würzburg University
The letters mostly refer to university matters, financial difficulties, plans and opportunities, the family, acquaintances and politics. They often reflect mood swings, sometimes despair, yet they also indicate a high degree of consciousness and self-reflection, intellectual interest and ambition.
Erzsébet Kardos and Ödön Bánki, Starnberger See, Germany, 1925
She commented repeatedly on current political events which crucially affected her decisions about her place of residence, studies and future. From 1923 onwards, she submitted her application for admission to several European universities, including Leipzig, Bratislava, Basel, Bern and Munich. Antisemitic manifestations were presumably expressed more frequently in Würzburg and thus she started to think of moving to other places, although she did have an attachment to the town. (The atmosphere of escape and search for a safe place might remind us of the current situation, although in a different historical context.)
Kuci, the other day some strange fear got hold of me under the influence of alarming rumours in Germany […]. Please, give in my application to Leipzig and perhaps to another university which is not in Bavaria and where there is a slim chance of being admitted. I don’t think there is any chance elsewhere but in Giessen. I don’t mind where, but I’d like some guarantee.
Erzsébet Kardos to Ödön Bánki, from Győr to Würzburg, summer 1923?
The dilemmas concerning university studies point well beyond the intellectual aspects: the possible places were limited by administrative practicalities, financial and political circumstances. To obtain the official recognition of a foreign degree in Hungary required attending at least four semesters in a Hungarian university. In addition to the complicated and/or unsuccessful applications to other universities, that was the reason why in the end Kardos decided to finish her studies in Hungary at the Medical Faculty in Pécs. In the countryside the numerus nullus for women (applied by the Medical Faculty of Budapest University between 1920 and 1926) was not in force, and the numerus clausus concerning Jews was not implemented so strictly either.
Her interests and ambition are indicated by her own idea of translating a fundamental German clinical book by Ernst Magnus-Alsleben (Vorlesungen über klinische Propädeutik), for which she was trying, albeit apparently unsuccessfully, to find a publisher.
After graduation Kardos did not stay in Hungary: from the summer of 1927 she worked for two years as an assistant at Arthur Schlossmann’s clinic for children (Kinderklinik der Städtischen Krankenanstalt) in Düsseldorf. During that time, she was also chief consultant at the Auguste-Victoria-Haus Children’s Home in Düsseldorf (Schlossmann’s daughter, Erna Eckstein-Schlossmann, was in charge of the institution), where 120 children were cared for, and she held lectures for nurses participating in medical training.
From there she made an even bigger leap, both geographically and professionally: in 1929 she was invited to Colombia where she worked as senior paediatrician in the private clinic of the German bacteriologist Maxim Bauer in Barranquilla, as well as performing laboratory tests of tropical diseases in the bacteriological institute also directed by Bauer.
During her 18-month stay in South America she organised expeditions on her own and as the first woman (following Bauer’s expeditions) she travelled to the Guajiro (Wayuu) Indian tribe, who lived on the Guajira Peninsula, on the border of Colombia in the northern part of Venezuela.
Here she conducted a study of their customs and way of life. Daily newspapers such as Magyar Hírlap (Hungarian Newspaper) and Délamerikai Magyarság (South American Hungarians) reported on the expeditions. In May 1932 Magyar Hírlap interviewed Maxim Bauer who talked about Kardos with appreciation so much so that he intended to name the 6000-metre-high glacier in the Sierra Nevada, he first climbed, the Kardos Peak (I have not found a later trace of that).
An October copy of Magyar Hírlap in 1932 gives an account specifically of Kardos’s trips and the way of life and customs of the Indian tribe she visited with comments by a journalist.
A soft-spoken and quiet young woman with a friendly gaze is sitting opposite me. No one would believe how much knowledge she has in her head, what incredible energy is within this small, charming creature who has achieved recognition in foreign scientific circles. […] This extremely talented young woman doctor returned from Colombia in the spring because, as she says, she could not cope with the atmosphere there psychologically. Since then, she has lived in Germany. She has worked successfully in various scientific institutes in Munich and Berlin. Homesickness is bringing her back to Hungary now. For some time, she will stay at home with her family in Győr, where she will also work.
Magyar Hírlap, 15 October 1932
Thus, in 1932 Kardos returned to Europe and worked with paediatrician Heinrich Finkelstein, the medical director of the Kaiser and Kaiserin Friedrich Municipal Children’s Hospital in Berlin. In late 1932 “homesickness brought her back to Hungary” (or, more likely, the political climate in Germany) and she lived and worked in Győr for a while, where she opened a private paediatric practice in the family house. The waiting room of her office was designed by Bauhaus artist Zsuzsa Bánki.
News about the opening of her private practice, Dunántúli Hírlap, 22 November 1932
For two years, from 1933, she worked with Lipót Szondi in the Pathological and Remedial Laboratory of the Hungarian Royal College of Special Education in Budapest. She performed the psychological and biological examination of juvenile criminals sent from the Juvenile Court and conducted the check-up and developmental therapy of children with special needs.
From 1934 she attended training analysis with Vilma Kovács and two years later, in addition to her Budapest paediatric practice, she began a psychoanalytic practice too. In 1940 she married paediatrician and psychoanalyst Endre Pető. In their shared work attempting the metapsychological description of play, they pointed out that all the specifics of the primary processes can be found in children’s play, which thus helps integrate these impulses into the ego. Kardos’s only (posthumous) study (“Contributions to the Theory of Play”) was based on this joint thinking. Endre Pető published the study with his own addenda in the British Journal of Medical Psychology in 1956.
In 1939 the couple applied for immigration to Australia where they were finally granted a visa in September. Yet they stayed in Budapest. Possibly it was Pető’s elderly mother and their recently furnished apartment that made them stay. They did not feel the danger strongly enough. In addition, both joined the Psychoanalytical Society that year and were ready for analytic practice. They could work for a while, until the German occupation of Hungary in March 1944. During the reign of the Hungarian Arrow Cross from the autumn of 1944, they were hiding separately with forged papers.
However, shortly before the liberation of Budapest in January 1945, someone denounced Kardos and she was discovered and murdered by an Arrow Cross squad in the city. Lívia Nemes writes in her article on the fate of Hungarian psychoanalyst during fascism: “Neurologist Margit Ormos recalled that she had met her at the gate to the ghetto in January 1945. She had a bag in her hand, perhaps was fleeing from somewhere or went to help someone. She was most likely the last person who saw her.” Kardos’s father had died as early as 1924, but her mother was deported from Győr and murdered in Auschwitz. Her brother Imre and sister Ilona emigrated to Australia in 1950.
The grave of her parents in Győr
In 1946 psychoanalyst Imre Hermann commemorated the war victims and Kardos’s work on children’s play was read out. Hermann characterised her as follows: “She was sensitive and compassionate, and courageously helped many in circumstances of great danger to herself. She was one of the younger members of the Society but had earned an excellent reputation, especially in the field of child analysis.” (International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 1946)
Erzsébet Kardos’s promising career was destroyed by the antisemitic ideologies and policies which she had to face from the beginning of her university studies. Partly political pressure and partly professional curiosity motivated her departures from Hungary. Despite her fragmented career, she realised an active, busy professional life of an insightful and emotional personality: a person with diverse interests in paediatrics, cultural anthropology and psychoanalysis, as well as a committed attitude to treatment and intellectual work.
I am very grateful to Ödön Bánki’s daughter, art historian Esther Bánki for sharing letters, photos and other valuable information with me. The English translation of the letters is mine.
Anna Borgos is a psychologist and women’s historian; she is a research fellow of the Institute of Cognitive Neuroscience and Psychology and the editor-in-chief of the Hungarian psychoanalytic journal Imágó Budapest. Her main fields of research are the career of intellectual women in the early 20th century and the history of sexuality. (Note by the editor)
The misadventures of a Medical Doctor from Győr in the final days of World War 2
In the first part you learnt why and how the diary is born, in the second one you discoveredthat German and Hungarian military units couldn’t resist the Russian advance, bombs were dropped even during the Christmas holidays, a good pair of boots was worth its weight in gold and a doctor could help those in trouble anywhere and anytime. In part three you read about occasionalforced work hours, the tampering with their medical supplies and medicines, the adventures of the wandering troop in Székesfehérvár and their approach to the capital city.We learn about the behaviour of drunken Russian soldiers in part four, as well as the mutually profitable exchange of “goods” with another Russian, a repeated robot (forced work for the Russians), how important it is to have good ID papers, and the search for wine for a Russian army unit. Dr Bakonyi explains the difference between the behaviour of the Hungarian authorities and the Russian Army towards the Jews. This comparaison goes in favour of the latter.In partfivewe meet the kind-hearted Uncle Schatz from Párkány, learn that Dr. Bakonyi’s medical work is paid for by his patients with flour, fat and bacon, that there are great difficulties crossing strictly controlled bridges, that the lice attacks in Zebegény, that the doctor runs into relatives and acquaintances in Budapest, that he stays for an extended period and practices medicine in a village called Penc.
Sunday, 25 March 1945
I was in church (not clear: church or synagogue? – editor’s note) this morning and I was really thinking about a lot of things. I really want to be home and especially with you, my wife. I read in today’s paper that Esztergom, Felsőgallá, Tatabánya have already been taken by the Russians, and some say even Komárom. I have just written to Feri Parányi, who is in Vác, asking him for further news, because if these reports are true, I shall be on my way home immediately.
Tuesday, 27 March
I hope to have Parányi’s reply by today. According to a Russian telephonist here, the Russian army has taken Komárom and has already surrounded Győr. This is not good news, because if it comes to a siege, there will be a lot more unnecessary casualty. I am very worried about what is to come! I’m counting the days, if the news is true, I’ll start tomorrow, and with a bit of luck I’ll be home by Easter, … it’s a little over 100 km from here.
Wednesday, 28 March
Feri Parányi wrote yesterday and in his letter, he says that he wants to leave in about two weeks only. For my part, I don’t want to wait any longer, I’m fully packed and will leave tomorrow morning. I will check in Vác what the situation is and which route I can take. If possible, I will go to Párkány and continue that way, because I am very interested in the fate of Uncle Schatz, who is still in Párkány.”
Epilogue
So far, “Dad’s Diary”.
But who was actually Dr István Bakonyi?
About her father I can no longer talk to his daughter, Hugi, who kept his Dad’s Diary.
Towards the end of his misadventures, Dr Bakonyi reached the village of Penc, which fortunately did not forget the forced labourer medical doctor who practised there in March 1945. This is what the local publication Penc News wrote about him in 2018:
“The author of the diary, István Bakonyi, a doctor from Győr, was born in 1904 into a civil family of Israelite religion. He completed his primary and secondary school education in his home town and although he passed his school-leaving examination, his intentions to continue his studies were “not encouraged” because of the numerus clausus in force at the time. Thus, in 1922-23, he worked as a carpenter.
István Bakonyi (upper row, fourth from left) with his fellow medical students in Pécs in the years 1923–1924, archivnet.hu
In 1923, he was still admitted to the Faculty of Medicine at the Erzsébet University of Pécs, where he graduated in 1929. After his studies, he returned to Győr, where he worked as an ambulance doctor, and from 1937 until he was called up for labour service – realising his idea of building a modern medical practice – he served the citizens of Győr as a private doctor.
Irén Kőműves and Dr István Bakonyi, wedding photo 1942, archivnet.hu
In the 1930s, he met Irén Kőműves, his future wife, who was not of Jewish origin, but according to the laws on Jews, their marriage on 23 August 1942 was only possible if his future wife converted to the Israelite faith. During the labour service she was often close to her husband, only leaving when the situation no longer allowed it. They had two daughters.”
And who was Irén Bakonyi?
A few words about Hugi (her nickname), one of István Bakonyi’s daughters, the guardian of the diary.
I met her decades ago in the Győr cemetery. To my great surprise, she told me in very modest and simple words that she was a sports shooter and not at any level, because she was a multiple Hungarian champion and a member of the national team!
She was a great sportswoman, and perhaps she inherited her perseverance from her father.
On the occasion of her very early death in March 2019, the Budapest Sport Shooting Association published the obituary (in Hungarian) quoted in part here:
“Irén Bakonyi was born in 1948 in a family of intellectuals.
She got acquainted with sport shooting in the club Győri Dózsa, from where she joined Újpesti Dózsa (UTE) in 1970. Soon she became a member of the national team …
As from 1981 she has been the Technical Director of the Sport Shooting Division of Újpesti Dózsa … She has made an invaluable contribution to the success of UTE today.
Hugi Bakonyi, the shooter, sportloveszet.ute.hu
But she was not only dedicated to the Division, but also to its competitors. Many of our athletes owe the development of their careers to Irén.
She was the one who stood by us in the most difficult times of the Club and the Division.
…
She also participated in the daily work of the Hungarian Shooters’ Association and the Budapest Shooters’ Association as a board member of both organisations. These positions were not just titles for Irénke. They meant a great deal of work for her. From student competitions to continental tournaments, she took part in all the work from preparations to execution. She was also involved in the everyday life of sport shooting as a competition judge.
…
She fought his serious illness like a sportsman, but after a moment of hope, finally, she did not emerge victorious.”
Edited and translated into English by Péter Krausz
The misadventures of a Medical Doctor from Győr in the final days of World War 2
In the first part you learnt why and how the diary is born, in the second one you discoveredthat German and Hungarian military units couldn’t resist the Russian advance, bombs were dropped even during the Christmas holidays, a good pair of boots was worth its weight in gold and a doctor could help those in trouble anywhere and anytime. In part three you read about occasionalforced work hours, the tampering with their medical supplies and medicines, the adventures of the wandering troop in Székesfehérvár and their approach to the capital city.We learn about the behaviour of drunken Russian soldiers in part four, as well as the mutually profitable exchange of “goods” with another Russian, a repeated robot (forced work for the Russians), how important it is to have good ID papers, and the search for wine for a Russian army unit. Dr Bakonyi explains the difference between the behaviour of the Hungarian authorities and the Russian Army towards the Jews. This comparaison goes in favour of the latter.
Let’s continue.
Saturday, 20 January 1945
After Uncle Schatz’s house was fixed up, we moved in … The people who moved in are: the host, Ödön Schatz, the two ladies from Komárom and their son, the two Slovak partisans and us two. Uncle Ödön Schatz, the ladies and the boy are in the inner room, the four of us in the first room, which is a doctor’s surgery, waiting room, operating room during the day, but very often a discussion room, especially when I am not at home.
We fix outside a publicity board and the next morning the first patients appear, the number of which has grown and during my whole stay in the parish. I have had almost no free time except in the evenings. My stay in Párkány began on the 17th of January and lasted exactly one month, until the 17th of February. The situation in Párkány is not very encouraging as there are Germans in Esztergom opposite and they are shootings every day. These firings are totally irregular and unpredictable. A significant number of the inhabitants of Párkány are living in cellars, partly because their houses are ruined, partly out of fear …
The bombed Párkány Bridge, 1980, Source: Fortepan
We did not go down to the cellar, of course, but took up residence in the apartment. Luckily, nothing happened to us. I went to visit the bedridden patients after the morning appointments were done and I usually went home for lunch only around 2 pm. After lunch, if I had some free time, I would play a game of patience …, but it soon got dark and I had to stop.
Our group tried to get all the food we needed. I played a significant role in this, because some of the patients paid the fees in kind, flour, fat, bacon, etc. Fortunately, we had no meat problems, because the butchers in Párkány still had access to some beef for slaughter … we paid 10 Pengő per kilo of meat. The inmates of the Schatz house consumed a lot, because the number of those present was constantly increasing due to the returning forced labourers of Párkány, furthermore all those who lived further away were stranded here, because it was impossible to go further.
The front was only 20-25 km away in the direction of Komárom, so it was impossible to move on. Some of those who had arrived, seeing the situation here … went back to Nagymaros, Vác, Pest or even further. And so did the 2 Fleischmann brothers, brothers-in-law of Jóska Wolf, and time has proved them right. They wanted to go to Ács, but when they saw the situation, they turned back. Some of the people from Párkány also went back, as well as Laci Harmat. A decree was issued that all those who did not live in the former Czechoslovakia should return to the motherland. In my case, of course, the decree was not applied because the doctor was needed. I can say without boasting that “the young doctor from Győr” – this is how people called me – earned honour and respect in Párkány.
Párkány village (SK) before WW2, the Basilica of Esztergom in the background, Source: kulturasturovo.sk
The days pass in unison. … we are in constant contact with the Russians in order to learn something of the situation at the front. The shelling is definitely sounding nearer, … I sense what is coming, I keep everything in my backpack.
On the 14th of February the Germans did a nasty shelling, 2 shells hit right in front of the house and our remaining windows were broken. Luckily, I was not at home, the window where I normally read and write was smashed to pieces. Nobody in the house was hurt, a lucky coincidence!
The situation on the front seems to be calming down a little, but there is a strange tension in the air. The Russians are nervous, they are conducting repeated searches. There are remarkably few Russians in the place and we are in a constant state of suspense, but we are just waiting.
On Friday evening, 16 February, at Uncle Schatz’s request, all the Jews and half-Jews here came together for Friday night prayer and dinner. We also had two Russian guests and forced labourer Béla Kovács, a baker from Esztergom, baked a delicious white traditional Jewish loaf for the festive dinner. We had no idea that this would be a farewell dinner for us …
In the afternoon of the same day, I spoke to the local Catholic chaplain about sending a message to my wife in Győr via the Vatican. He replied that all contact had been broken and it was impossible. Perhaps he will remember my request and now that the Germans have retaken Párkány, he will somehow be able to send the news that I am alive and well.
Saturday, 17 February
The shelling can be heard from close by, people withdrawn to the cellars, conspicuously few sick today, news of the Germans coming back. The Russians are silent, but one of them spits out that something is up.
We pack up completely and wait. Rehberger, who is in Nána, also comes for news, because the mood there is also very bad. We send him back to inquire what is happening with the Russian hospital in Nána, because if there is a retreat, it will surely be moved. At about 5 p.m. he comes back in a state of breathlessness that the hospital has been sent on its way. We do not wait any longer, but pick up our things and move off at a strong pace. The people from Párkány are standing frightened at the gate, the Russians are waiting, fully loaded and ready to go, and a familiar Russian officer tells us to hurry.
Unfortunately, we can’t get to the bridge at Garamkövesd because the area is under water and we have to take the highway to Kőhídgyarmat. The highway is packed with retreating Russian troops and under constant shelling we run almost the whole way to reach the bridge. The feeling of danger is increased by the sound of shells hitting in our immediate vicinity and the fact that we don’t know what condition the bridge is in, as it was supposedly badly shelled by the Germans in the morning.
Following the retreating columns, we make the journey in record time and, turning off the highway, reach the road to the bridge, which is in a terrible state and … in ankle-deep mud, we reach the bridge, which we manage to cross, amidst frenzied horses.
Párkány-Garamkövesd-Kicsind-Bajta (all in SK), Source: Google maps
The first village on the other side of the river is Kicsind, but this was evacuated of civilians by the Russians long ago and is still crowded with Russian soldiers. Here in Kicsind we meet a Russian captain who tells us to move on immediately to get as far away from the Garam river as possible. We have to do this because there is no house here where we can find shelter. We decide that we must reach Bajta during the night, where we may be able to take shelter.
The road, especially the first part, is in a terrible state, but there is no choice, it is cold, we have to go, otherwise we will freeze. It could have been one o’clock at night before we reached Bajta, but the village is packed with Russians and there is not a vacant place. We try again and again, finally they take us into a kitchen where eight people are already sleeping. We are cramped, but it is warm and at least we can take our boots off our feet. … I managed to get settled on a bench and slept like a log until 6 am. Our host here is János Vilmajor, Bajta.
Sunday, 18 February
In the morning, when we looked at each other, we saw … the traces of yesterday’s and last night’s rambling. We are covered in mud and dirt and we are trying to clean up a bit, but it will take days before the mud is completely dry and ready to be brushed off. We leave early because we want to get at least to Zebegény today. The group shows the effects of yesterday’s journey, and we drag ourselves along wearily.
The road is very slippery in the morning hours, and we are almost stumbling along the steep downhill road to Leléd. Passing through Leléd, which also presents a haunted picture, still under the influence of the morning frost, we emerge along the Ipoly river and follow its flow for a long way, stopping several times and waiting for the others … we get to the bridge leading to Ipolydamásd. The only bridge guard standing here, after checking pieces of identification, lets the whole party through, and we sigh with relief, as three of us have no IDs.
Signpost of the village Leléd today, Source: wikiwand. com/hu
However, it is also very reassuring to know that there are two rivers behind us and that the cannonading can be heard from further away. At Ipolydamásd we have a long rest and a meal, potatoes boiled in water with salt make up very well for the bread and it must be about noon when we continue on our way. At a slow pace we reach Szob, where we are taken to the headquarters, where we are again checked.
The papers that were good for the bridge guard are good here too, and with three IDs the whole party can go on, only me and my medical bag were in danger, the lieutenant wanted to take one of my thermometers, but I managed to talk him out of it.
We arrived in Zebegény early in the afternoon. We tried to find accommodation as quickly as possible, and after a long search I got a separate room at Ádám Harangozó’s place, while the company settled down at Ferenc Krebs’. I decided to stay in Zebegény for the time being, thinking …, as a doctor I could survive anywhere, because there were sick people everywhere who would somehow support me. The rest of the party went on to Nagymaros and Pest after a day’s rest.
Zebegény in the 1930s, Source: archivnet.hu
My stay in Zebegény lasted from 18 to 27 February, and during this time I changed apartments three times, because the Russians returning for rest did not even respect the doctor.
The days in Zebegény were uneventful and the only problem was with the Komlós boy who had been picked up in Zebegény, who had gotten lice and despite having nothing to do all day, could not get rid of it and at the end I noticed that I had some lice too. This is the third time in my wanderings that I have had lice, but fortunately they are only immigrants and immediate action was taken to stop it from multiplying. First in Székesfehérvár, secondly in Párkány and now for the third time in Zebegény I managed to have got these “partisans” on my body and fortunately got rid of them immediately. Very unpleasant animals and spreaders of rash typhus! I finally placed the Komlós boy with somebody in Zebegény and I am moving to Ferenc Krebs’ place, where besides me there are two other former forced labourers who arrived with me from Párkány.
In three days, however, we have to leave Zebegény, because the Russians seem to want to evacuate the civilian population to make room for the troops returning from the front. In Zebegény, I had an unexpected encounter with Jucci Bíró, who had come from Pest and had escaped the Arrow Cross terror here. We were very crazy about each other, but the next day I … went on my way.
Tuesday, 27 February
After lunch, the three of us set off to get further away from the front, towards Vác, possibly Budapest. After less than an hour’s walk we managed to get on a Russian troop transport car, which took us to Budapest. It was about 5 o’clock when we reached Pest and I, separated from my companions, decided to visit my wife’s aunt, who lived at 33 Nürnberg street.
A street in Budapest after the siege, 1945 Source: Fortepan
It was quite dark by the time I reached them and they were thoroughly surprised at my coming. The next day I went into town, where I met many people I knew, and went up to 12 Síp utca (headquarters of Jewish national organisations – note by the editor), where I found people from Győr, such as Dóri Salczer, Imre Steinfeld, Laci Raab and Fleischmann, the butcher, people who handled the affairs of the Jews of the countryside. Later, I met Gyuri Klausz, who lives with his father-in-law, Dr Oszkár Szekeres and Manó Ádler, all of whom are staying in Pest now.
The ruins of Erzsébet bridge in Budapest, 1945 Source: cultura.hu
Many people from Győr were or are still in Pest, but some of them have left because the food situation in Pest is very critical. The next day at noon I went to Aunt Mari, Kató’s mother, who received me very kindly and I stayed with her during my whole stay in Pest. I wanted to find out from Kató the address of Aunt Hermin, but neither from her nor from other acquaintances did I manage to get any news of my relatives.
I keep going around the city to receive information from someone, but no one knows anything about them. Walking around in Pest is not without its dangers, because at any moment you can be caught in a robot (work for the Russian army – note of the editor). I always take my medical bag with me and that’s how I manage to get away with it. It’s very unpleasant weather, there’s a sharp cold wind but I don’t want to take my fur coat with me anymore, I leave it at Aunt Marcella’s with my excess winter stuff. In the meantime, I keep thinking about where to go, because I don’t want to stay in Pest, although Aunt Mari is very nice, but they don’t have anything to eat themselves.
Kati managed to travel down to the Great Plain to get something to eat while I was there. … She left on the 2nd of March and I was to wait for her return, but she did not return home even on the following Wednesday and I could not wait any longer. All the more so because the spare food I had brought with me was already gone.
Postcard from Vác, 1938, Source: Vatera.hu
On Wednesday, the evening of the 7th, I boarded the train for Vác, which left Nyugati Station at 6 p.m., and by 4 a.m. next morning, after record slowness and frequent stops, we arrived in Vác. I left my boots, snow hat, two pairs of flannel booties and a bedsheet in Budapest, as well as my sleeved sweater and winter gloves. I sent the latter items from Penc to Aunt Marcella.
During the journey, and in Vác, I met a teacher from Kosd, who told me that they had no doctor and I decided not to run into the front for once, but to get a little further away from it. So, I did not go back in the direction of Nagymaros and Zebegény, but positioned myself east of Vác.
Thursday, 8 March
We set off at about 5 o’clock in the morning, and as the teacher was moving very slowly, I went ahead to Kosd, where it turned out they already had a doctor. So, I decided to go on my way. The villages are close together, and I soon reached Rád, where the magistrate was very sorry for me, as he was very much in need of a doctor, but they were so full of Russians that he could not place me anywhere.
Three km from Rád is Penc, where there was originally a district doctor, who had however fled from the Russians thus was confident to be accommodated there. The situation in Penc is similar to that in Rád, there are many Russians and the doctor is needed, therefore they will make arrangements for me. So, I settled down in Pence and here I began to put my memories on paper.
Penc today, bird’s eye view, Source: google maps
I arrived in Penc on Thursday and until Monday I was staying in the kitchen of a widow called Mrs Szemere, while in the room there was a young man with staying with tuberculosis. I was not at all reconciled to the situation and by Monday I had managed to vacate a room in the village hall … which I managed to furnish, so I started to see patients in the village hall on Monday. I sleep on the daybed in the surgery and run an independent household.
The practice started off with a bang, and for the first week I was busy most of the day, but now it has subsided a bit, and I have the possibility to start and continue my diary. Penc is a very pretty little village, and has suffered comparatively little from the war, but unfortunately the Russians have had their time, so that the purchase and obtaining of food is now a matter of some difficulty.
Yesterday, 24 March, a friend of a patient of mine went up to Pest, and I sent a parcel to Aunt Marcella, a bag of good quality flour and 8 eggs. I hope she will receive it, together with my sleeved sweater and winter gloves, so that I may have as few unnecessary things with me as possible when I start for home. Unfortunately, the cannons are still very loud and the windows are still vibrating, meaning the frontline is still close. Today is the 25th of March, your name day, my dear wife…
(Photos are for illustration only.)
The end of Part Five.
And don’t miss the last part, Part Six, in which you’ll find out how Dr Bakonyi is planning to return to his home town, Győr. And that will be the end of the diairy. As an Epilogue, the editor will insert a news-cut from the local paper “Penci Hírek” and a brief information about Dr Bakonyi’s daughter, Hugi Bakonyi, a former top sportswoman, who guarded the diary of his father for eternity.
For decades, Holocaust survivors rarely, if ever, spoke about their horrific experiences, even then only among close family and friends, never publicly. My parents were no exception. While today there are countless memoirs or oral history accounts, that was not the case in the past. Personal experiences were hardly ever reported in the media. I was, therefore, more than astonished when, in early 1984, upon their return from a holiday in the picturesque Giant Mountains in today’s Czech Republic, they told me that they had made a one-day train trip to Trutnovwhere my mother was a Häftling, a concentration camp prisoner, during the war. I was even more stunned when my mother sat down at her typewriter, summarized her memories, and sent them to the most popular women’s magazine, “Nők Lapja”. And to my greatest surprise it was published!
This is what she wrote.
György Polgár, a son of Gabriella Vágó
NOT FORGOTTEN
Nearly 40 years later, I returned to Trutnov, at the foot of the Giant Mountains, where I was a forced laborer. At that time, the town was called Trautenau, and the surrounding countryside was the Sudetenland. Where did I arrive from? From Auschwitz.
The original piece – Source: Nők Lapja, July 7, 1984
Not a Bite to Eat
On June 9, 1944, we, the persecuted were herded into cattle cars in Győr. An SS officer announced that we will report for labor service. The train didn’t stop before arriving in Auschwitz.
The horrors of the journey have already been written about many times. Everything was true. In Auschwitz, we marched by Dr Mengele and his magic wand. This wand – we did not know then – made the difference between life and death. I was lucky: with my mother, I was ordered to go to the side that meant life. We were first kept in a toilet barrack for two days, and later we were wet, cold, and starving for another six weeks. We slept on the bare ground when we didn’t have to line up for the “Appell” in the “Birkenau B Camp” barracks for hours. We saw the chimneys, and by then, we knew why they poured smoke day and night. We saw crutches stacked in piles and women kneeling, half unconscious. They most probably did something wrong in the eyes of the SS commandos. We feared the clubs, the dogs, the men, and women in uniform. Shyness and feminine vanity did not matter anymore.
In August, (we even didn’t know what day it was) the SS commando came to the block to sort us out. My only thought was not to be separated from my mother. I managed to stay with her because I had grown old in these two months, almost like her, although I was only 19 years old.
They tossed black clothes and a pair of sandals at me. We were forced into cattle cars again, but we were indeed taken to work this time. After a few days’ travel, we arrived at the town of Parschnitz on the outskirts of Trautenau.
We were taken to an empty, unused two-story factory building. It was furnished with high bunk beds. We were given mugs, plates, and brown tin spoons. We had covers – a blanket to be shared by two of us because two women had to sleep in a single bay.
We worked in the AEG plant in Trautenau. First, we had to clean, practically with a toothbrush, a freshly painted hangar, carrying two buckets of water for 12 hours without a bite to eat. At four in the morning, we were given some warm water they called coffee and 100 grams of bread. In the evening, we received a so-called “Eintopf” (one-dish soup), which was no more than a thin soup made from potato skins.
I lost weight and was no more than 40 kilos. At a particular moment, my mother mustered all her courage and asked the “Lagerführerin” to transfer me to some easier work. Apparently, the woman was in a good mood because she did.
From then on, I had to assemble spare parts for airplanes. My mother worked on a big machine. We met in the evening. Winter came, and we walked two hours a day to the factory and two hours back to the Lager. Wooden clogs replaced our sandals. The wooden shoes often fell off my feet from their weight when the early snow grew to several centimeters. I limped along with my comrades.
In our camp, there were political prisoners from Kistarcsa, internees, women from the cities of Hatvan, Miskolc, Mosonmagyaróvár and Győr. Polish women also stayed with us. They worked in the textile factory. We exchanged with them yarn and knitting needles they made for bread, so we had scarves and caps for the winter to cover our bald heads.
We went through various hardships. A commando came to take away the sick every two or three weeks. We never saw them again. Pregnant women were taken back to Auschwitz to be gassed. Several of our companions went mad. We looked after them as long as we could cover for them, and they stayed with us, but this couldn’t last too long.
My mother’s and grandmother’s names are on the list of prisoners in Trautenau (#540 and #541). My grandmother managed to falsify her birth year and so that they would be considered sisters and not separated – Source: Arolsen Archives, Bad Arolsen, Germany
Once We Get Home
From early spring 1945, we were not taken to the factory but to the nearby forest to dig a bunker. One day, we, desperate wrecks of women, who no longer cared about life, spotted a barracks camp when marching to the bunker site. Men stood at the gate shouting at us, showing the number 15 with their hands and fingers. As we dug, we asked each other what that sign could mean. Then, by chance, we found a newspaper clipping torn from some French journal. We read that Budapest was liberated. The sign language continued, and after five days, when the men flashed only ten fingers, we realized that they were indicating how many more days they thought the war would last. We learned that they were French and Belgian political prisoners.
It was May. One day, returning to our barracks, we noticed a shop window displaying a black mourning ribbon on Hitler’s portrait. We could hardly conceal our joy. Walking along the center of the road – we were not allowed to use the sidewalk – we kept looking back at the display. A black flag hung at half-mast at the camp gate. From that day on, we hoped that something good would happen to us.
From far away, we heard cannon fire. The next day they didn’t take us to work. For days we were kept locked up. No one yelled at us anymore. We talked and cared for our sick who couldn’t get to the “Revier” (sick bay). We dreamed of nice food. We decided that if we ever got home and ordered mille-feuille at the famous Gerbeaud café in Budapest, we would sit at the table next to the lavatory, remembering the two days we spent in the Auschwitz latrine, being fed with slop from a bucket.
On Our Way Home
On May 7, 1945, at around five o’clock in the afternoon, we heard voices, together with the noise of heavy combat vehicles. The gate opened. A tracked armored vehicle stopped in the yard. Soviet soldiers got off it. They entered the building. By then, the Germans were nowhere to be seen; they had probably fled in the night.
Two young Soviet soldiers came in and greeted us. They told us that the war was over for us and that we were free. All the ragged women surrounded the two soldiers. We kissed them where we could and shook their hands. We saw sympathy in their eyes. They gave us some food. There was an interpreter, as a couple of women among us spoke one of the Slavic languages.
They asked us to strengthen ourselves for a few days, not to start the long journey, because the forest in the Giant Mountains was still full of Germans. After two days, we set off for home. In the Czech villages, the peasants put milk and bread in the windows of their houses. We realized that we were not the only inmates kept by the Germans; hundreds of political prisoners, French and Belgians, were also suffering in the camps of Parschnitz-Trautenau.
A Housing Estate at the Site
And now, after almost 40 years, here I was again! I looked around the streets of Trutnov, this small industrial town, walked on the sidewalk, not the carriageway. I asked a hotel concierge where the former AEG factory used to stand. When I told him why I was looking for it, he replied with much affection: he said it was close, within walking distance, and if I waited for a while, he would find the hotel manager to accompany me.
I found it by myself. It was Saturday, so the factory was not working. I explained to the porter, half in Czech, half in German, why I was bothering him. His tears began to flow. He remembered everything. He told me he was a schoolboy then and that they felt sorry for the prisoners but couldn’t help because they feared the Germans. He regretted that no one was in the factory because they would surely have let me in. He said I was the first Hungarian to come here since the liberation to see where we had suffered for months with our fellow prisoners. “I’m sure many of them are no longer alive,” he said.
We said goodbye and took a taxi to the former camp. The taxi driver drove us through the small town, and in five minutes, we were in Parschnitz or Porsici in Czech. We stopped. The taxi driver got out of the car with me in front of a memorial. We stood in silence for a minute.
A black marble plaque was inscribed that the Red Army liberated the political prisoners and deportees held here on May 7, 1945. “Their memory is being kept with devotion”, the inscription reads.
The camp building is still there but is empty and surrounded by a fence. A housing estate was erected on the site of the barracks. The driver told me he had fought some 50 kilometers from there as a partisan. He could not understand either why we had to march four hours daily, as it took only 20 minutes from the factory to the camp. Only the SS command could have answered that.
I saw the woods where we were cold and wet. I saw the house where the German commander-in-chief lived and the fortified building where we had to dig a defensive wall.
The inhabitants of Trutnov-Porsici did not forget us. The memory of the dead is remembered, along with that of the liberators. Every year a wreath is laid at the monument.
The taxi driver hugged me. He didn’t accept a tip. He probably told his family about us that evening.
A few months ago, I went to Csorna, 30 km from Győr, where I met the history professor of the Csorna high school that had entered two teams in the Jewish local history student contest launched by our Foundation. The professor kindly invited me for a short walk in Csorna discover the local Jewish historical sites. During the walk, he asked me if I knew the Gestetner Jewish family of Csorna. I said, not really, but that I had seen a copying machine with that brand name in an office where I worked. Well, that’s just it – my friendly casual guide confirmed – the inventor of the copier was born in Csorna!
This little recollection of Csorna inspires me to publish some details about the life and work of Dávid Gestetner. The source of the details not specifically cited is Wikipedia.
P. Krausz
From Csorna …
David was born in Csorna (1854-1939), the son of Zsigmond Gestetner and Regina Gestetner. After his primary education he worked as a butcher in his uncle’s shop. At the age of 17 he left Hungary and started working in the Vienna stock exchange. His duties included copying statements and contracts at the end of the trading day. It was a very time-consuming job. That’s when he started thinking about a faster, more efficient method of duplication.
… to London
Gestetner arrived in London in 1880, where he received a patent for his first invention, the wheeled pen. A wheel pen is a device with a wheel with tiny teeth on the tip that leaves a broken line through a thin sheet of paper coated with wax that is to be forced through by an ink roller so that the same writing pattern appears on the blank sheet of paper underneath.
This invention became the forerunner of the stencil machine. Once perfected, up to ten thousand prints could be made from a single mould without any classical printing techniques.
With the advent of electricity and electric motors, the manual machine could now be ordered with electric drive. No special printing skills were needed to operate it.
Almost at the same time as Gestetner’s patent, Thomas Alva Edison in America also registered a patent for so-called autographic printing. This invention was then further developed and trademarked by Albert Blake Dick in 1887. An agreement was reached between the inventors’ companies. Under this agreement, Dick’s machines were marketed exclusively in the United States, while Gestetner marketed his duplicators in Europe and the rest of the world.
Continuing to perfect his invention, in 1906 he set up a factory in Tottenham specialising in the manufacture of stencil machines, inks, rollers and wheeled pens. The stencil machine became increasingly successful and the factory grew rapidly. It soon established an international network of branches to distribute its machines.
However, in the 1970s, photocopiers appeared on the market. From 1973 onwards, a company founded by Gestetner also marketed such machines. This was the beginning of the decline of stencil machines. At this time, Gestetner had 52 subsidiaries worldwide, selling and servicing machines in 153 countries. Management of the company was taken over by the founder’s son Sigmund Gestetner and his sons David and Jonathan. In 1996, Gestetner’s interests were acquired by the Japanese Ricoh Group. Today it is part of the NRG Group, but some of its products still bear the Gestetner brand name. Its main activity is currently the distribution of digital office reproduction machines and systems.
Social effects
The stencil duplicator provided individuals with a means to produce their own uncensored and uncontrolled ideas and distribute them in public places (near factories, churches, government offices, parks etc.). Previously, producing mass numbers of copies required the co-operation of owners of printing presses, which required a large amount of capital. Owners of presses would not agree to publish opinions contrary to their own interest. In many countries, the stencil and later the modern copier became an indispensable tool for major social movements and changes. It literally was the paper-based internet in the development of which Dávid Gestetner has made an invaluable contribution.
The misadventures of a Medical Doctor from Győr in the final days of World War 2
In the first part you learnt why and how the diary is born, in the second one you discoveredthat German and Hungarian military units couldn’t resist the Russian advance, bombs were dropped even during the Christmas holidays, a good pair of boots was worth its weight in gold and a doctor could help those in trouble anywhere and anytime. In part three you read about occasionalforced work hours, the tampering with their medical supplies and medicines, the adventures of the wandering troop in Székesfehérvár and their approach to the capital city.
Let’s continue. It is already January 1945.
Friday, 12 January 1945
We set off on Friday morning, the terrible amount of snow that fell two days before has almost completely melted away and we arrive in Kőbánya via Soroksár, Szentimre, Szentlőrinc. On the way, we met a boy from Kőbánya who was on his way home and his family offered us lodging in one of their shelters.
Taksony – Kőbánya, Google maps
Saturday, 13 January
We are on the road early in the morning, because we want to get out of the Pest area as soon as possible, where heavy fighting is still going on and the shells are still whizzing over our heads.
Right at the start we are caught by two drunk Russians, I am released as a doctor, but Laci Harmat is thoroughly stripped, his pyjamas, handkerchief and small items are taken away. …
Soon another checkpoint, but the ID we got in Székesfehérvár proved to be good this time and we were released. Around 11 o’clock in Rákosszentmihály, another checkpoint, here things don’t go smoothly, they search me completely, take my maps (Hungary and Fejér county map), my stamps, my flashlight and even my ID card and throw me into a room where about 30 people are waiting to be judged.
Of course, we immediately get acquainted, besides us there are two other people with similar ID cards, they come from Bori, Serbia, where they worked in a labour camp, and they are going to Pestújhely, because they live there. They are terribly desperate. We don’t like it either, but what can be done, given the forced rest, we eat.
After about two hours, a Russian soldier with no insignia, who later turned out to be a G.P.U. captain, escorted four of us to a neighbouring courtyard, while the others, whose number had grown to at least 50, were lined up by armed guards and sent on their way to who knows where. I am the first to be called in and duly debriefed, then interrogated in detail. Where I have been, what I have done, from where to where, how I have been treated, etc.
While the others are being interrogated, I take the opportunity to wash myself thoroughly at the fountain in the yard. The sun is not shining, it is very cold, the temperature is around freezing.
During the interrogation I make the acquaintance of a Russian subaltern, with whom I have a long conversation, hand and foot, using a dictionary, which resulted in giving him a bottle of … that I had obtained from the pharmacist next door. As a token of his gratitude, the Russian brought me 4 pieces of cut meat, which I of course shared with the others, so we ate again.
After we had all been interrogated, we were escorted back to the building next door where we were being searched and now, we were placed in the inner room where there two tailors were already staying with moustaches. They have been working there for 3 days. There was a stove in the room, so we were immediately thoroughly warmed up. Since the house had a wooden fence, there was no lack of firewood, and I, as the eldest, fed the fire.
The only inconvenience was that there were Russian batteries set up about 200 m away from us, and the firing of these batteries was accompanied by a constant shaking. It was getting dark and we were hungry again. When the G.P.U. Lieutenant came in, we asked to be fed. He then arranged for us to be given bread, which we badly needed, as our stock was completely exhausted. We lay down on the parquet floor and slept very well …
Sunday, 14 January
In the morning we were given bread again, washed at the well and went back to the inner room, where an interrogation of those present took place in front of us. When about fifty or so people were collected, as they had been yesterday, armed guards took them away again. Towards noon, the G.P.U. Lieutenant came, brought our papers back and let us go. We asked him to write a few lines on our documents so we wouldn’t be caught again, but he refused. I have usually found that they are very difficult to provide anything in writing.
We set off at a fast pace and, following the instructions received from our friends from Pestújhely, we headed for Fót, as it was a shortcut to Vác. We managed to get on a Russian car heading for Vác and we were already making far-reaching plans for what we were going to do in Vác in the early afternoon when in Fót a Russian female traffic policewoman forced us off the car and even trashed our luggage.
Vác, Google maps
There was a beautiful, mild and sunny afternoon and we continued our journey towards Dunaharaszti – Alag, where we soon arrived and now, we were on the Budapest-Vác Road. Given the sad experience, we try to avoid the traffic police … Soon we were reached by a gypsy family, who came in a cart and allowed us to put our belongings on it. Now relieved of our luggage, we continued our journey at a brisk pace and arrived in Sződliget in the dark of the evening, where we immediately went to the police station. With the help of the police, we were given a room and rested our weary body on a wide hammock. …
Monday, 15 January
In Sződliget, the situation is quite dangerous, because people are being caught on the road and taken to robot (Russian word meaning “work”, in this case “forced labour” – editor). … Accompanied by a policeman, we reach the highway, where we continue our journey towards Vác. Soon we arrive at the Vác-Hatvan crossroads, where we can see the Russian policeman and some soldiers from a distance, but there is no other way, we are forced to go in their direction. Identification, the pass is good, but we have to go to robot, this time to help reconstructing a railway line.
I desperately insist that I’m a doctor and my legs hurt…, but the soldier puts us in line and we leave for the workplace. The workplace is about 3 km from the crossroads and when we get there, after unloading our luggage at a railway station, we are told that we have to remove the railway tracks because the Germans have destroyed them and we have to put them back in place again. Nice prospects! For the time being we wait and wait, I don’t like this situation one bit.
A lieutenant comes along, I show him my paper, he nods, and says harasho, harasho (Russian word meaning “alright” – editor) but he can’t relieve us, only the captain can. I look for the captain, he’s nowhere to be found, meanwhile the train arrives bringing the rails but the train did not stop where it should have done, so that the rear wheels of one of the wagons jumped off the rails… How lucky we were.
And the two of us started going back and decided that whoever asked, we would say that the officer had told us ydy damoi (Russian expression meaning “go home” – editor). We luckily avoid three working teams, quickly take our belongings from the guardhouse and just as we were leaving the guardhouse, we ran into a Russian patrol. Of course, we are immediately checked, we show our documents, but they don’t want to let us go and as soon as they see my medical bag, they start searching for Sulfidin. They don’t find it, but they take away a significant part of my bandages. In the meantime, I wink at a young Russian who understands and shows us out. We ask him to escort us a long way, and then I give him 20 pieces of Sulfapyridine tablets with a sore heart. Unfortunately, everything has a price and only later did I realise what a high price I had paid!
We quickly head back and now have an unobstructed crossing at the road junction. Soon we are at the Vác police station where we are given a Hungarian-Russian language pass to travel to Párkánynána, the Vác police cannot issue a pass further than that. We make the pass signed and stamped at the Russian headquarters, now we have the Russian stamp and we are on our way.
Párkány (Sturovo) és Zebegény, Google maps
We are in the outskirts of Vác, when a Russian car stops and the captain asks where Nagymaros is and if there is wine there. I say I know the way, but whether there is wine I cannot answer. I tell him, it’s 13-14 km away and I can show him the way if he wants. The Russian agrees and we climb on board the car and set off towards Nagymaros. It’s cold on top of the vehicle, but we resist the temperature heroically, and make the 3-hour journey in about 20 minutes, … before we had caught a cold we had arrived. The Russians’ information was correct, because they had indeed found about 30 barrels of wine in a restaurant along the Danube. As we guided them and helped them to tip the barrels, they filled our bottles. The Russian was pleased and so were we, for having come so far! The wine turned out to have fermented and we couldn’t drink it, but the Russians must have drunk it.
In the street we are wondering where to find a place to stay, when an elderly lady comes by and, when asked, she says that we can sleep at her place if we are not afraid of the Russians. We take the risk, and soon we are sitting by a burning stove, eating, having milk, then cooking potatoes and having a delicious dinner. … Laci goes on a reconnaissance expedition, some pickles are found, and under the bed we find beautiful apples, a full basket and of course we pick a few, but leave the rest there.
Tuesday, 16 January
Starting from Nagymaros, we take a scenic route to Zebegény, where we deliver a message to Brulik bakers. We were given a good lunch and a two-kilograms loaf of bread on departure.
We hear bad news from people on the road, there are Germans in Esztergom and they are constantly shooting at the Helemba-Garamkövesd road. The front is right in front of Párkány and the rumours that Komárom has been captured by the Russians are lies. But we go on blindly, driven by the desire to go home and hope that the (Russian) troops released at Pest will push the front further. We want to be at their heels and follow them immediately.
We arrive in Szob, then cross the bridge over the Ipoly and reach Helemba at around 15:30. We find some quarters for the night when we hear that the road to Garamkövesd has been mined by the Germans to the point that it is not passable during the day. This would be the only way to get to Parkany. We get our things together and pack our bags to take advantage of the evening twilight to get to Garamkövesd yet by the end of the day. It’s supposed to be at an 8-km distance, but it seems we are very tired, because we can hardly walk at the end. Right at far edge of the village we find a house where we can stay for the night.
A four-engine bomber of the US Air Force bombing the railway bridge in Szob in 1944, Source: szeretgom.hu
Apparently, it was all the same now, I slept on a sack full of corn stalks, I could sleep, I even slept well, but when we woke in the morning we immediately packed and moved on. Going through the village, we reach the Garam military bridge, but here the guards won’t let anyone through, supposedly in a day or two crossing will be allowed, but not now. Nothing can be done about it, we have to go back and take shelter in a nearby house, just in case if crossing the bridge becomes possible.
In the meantime, one of the policemen asks me to see the local doctor because he is sick and needs some medicine. I go to see him, he is in a terrible state of neglect, his flat and consulting room have been ransacked, he himself is dirty, neglected, full of wailing and lamentations. What should we say then about our own affairs?
With the assistance of the entire population of the country, the Hungarian authorities took everything from us and made people, who had worked all their lives, into outcasts, condemning them to definite perdition, showing no mercy to anyone, from the infant suckers to the elderly. Yeah, that was different, we didn’t mean it, that’s what they say now, but … with very few exceptions, everyone stole and looted the Jewish stuff they could get their hands on! The Russians were much better than the Hungarian gendarmes and at least they didn’t make exceptions. They take the watch from the Jews just as they do from the Christians.
I myself have been through a lot, the result of 16 years of my medical work has come to nothing, but as long as I can work, I will not despair. They cry and cry for mere material goods, but they are at home and their relatives and brothers are at home, but what about our relatives, where are they? I could go on and on about this, but that is not my intention, I intend to write the story of my wanderings.
Soon, I leave the ‘kind’ colleague and manage to get my shoes repaired in a Russian schusterei (German expression meaning “shoe repair shop” – editor) and return to my lodgings. After lunch, we noticed that civilians were being allowed across the bridge, and we immediately rushed over and managed to get across. We couldn’t take the highway because the Germans were shelling it so we took the Nána road to Parkany.
On the Nána-Párkány road, as we passed, I met Lajos Perlblum, with whom I had been together in Óbarok for quite some time. Both of us are thoroughly surprised, we greet each other stormily and slowly tell each other our stories. It turns out that he had simply been forgotten in Parkany to help the civilian population. We go to his place and enjoy his hospitality for two days. He lives in Dr Hermann’s doctor’s office in Parkany, or rather in the basement, because there are constant shots fired. We also move into the basement.
Wednesday afternoon we meet a nice, friendly, kind-hearted Jew from Parkany, who was hiding from the Arrow Cross in the area and has already returned home together with Ödön Schatz, who welcomed us with great joy. He has already taken under his protection two women and a boy who escaped from the Komárom ghetto and hid somewhere. They are currently living in the Tóths’ shelter. … they have decided to move to Uncle Schatz’s house, but here they are afraid of the Russians. Uncle Schatz thought that I, as a doctor, could protect them, and indeed I succeeded to do so during my stay in Parkany. The next morning, two more former forced labourers, also from Komárom, arrived at our place. They escaped from their troop in Győr, joined the Slovak partisans and fled from there to Pest, where they managed to survive with false documents until the Russians reached them.
(Photos are for illustration only.)
The end of Part Four.
And don’t miss the fifth, in which you’ll find out how a doctor managed to get food in hard times, what the war situation was like on the Czechoslovak-Hungarian border, and how much Uncle Ödön Schatz’s hospitality meant. They arrive in Pest, where they meet many of their fellow citizens from Győr.
Reflections by Les Sichermann on intertwined life stories
We are honoured to present Les’ writing here-below. His path is written in regular fonts and that of Albert in italics.
P. Krausz
I am fortunate to live in an era of relative peace and prosperity and cannot fathom the ravages of war that impacted my previous generation who still live with the memories of death and destruction. I have never enlisted with the military, whether it be the Korean War, Vietnam War or any Canadian mission requiring active military service.
When I left Hungary in 1956 as a six-year-old, I remember Russian tanks rolling by our apartment while picking up empty shell casings left behind as a result of skirmishes between Russian troops and Hungarian resistance fighters. That was my only perception of war on any appreciable level. My parents unfortunately were the benefactors of the horrors of the Auschwitz’s death camps and later refugees of the Hungarian Revolution. They had eleven years to recover following WW2, only to be thrust into the fallout of another invasion that would likely impact their livelihood and usher in an uncertainty under the Communist regime.
I am eternally grateful for the difficult decision my parents chose in leaving behind a country that had been their home and those of their ancestors for hundreds of years, allowing us the opportunity to begin a legacy in our new country, Canada, that I have the privilege to cherish.
A reluctance to relate their war experiences is understandable. No one can fully appreciate the years of suffering and indignities they must have endured unless one was present as a witness. My references to their experience are but anecdotes gleaned from books, movies, documentaries, and holocaust survivors. Unfortunately, I know very little about my parents who passed away when I was quite young.
November 20, 1940
Hungary has joined the ‘axis of evil’ (Hungary became the fourth member to join the Axis powers – edit.). They are now an ally of Germany but playing a dangerous game of deception; trying to appease both Germany and the Allies. My Father is 38 years old and has been teaching in rural Hungary. He is married to his first wife and they have a daughter. I know very little of his life before he married my mother, his second wife, after the war.
Actually, any knowledge of my father’s situation during the war, I can only surmise from events that were part of the history Jews experienced in general while living under a government complicit with their German allies. Doctrines, dating back to 1938 and even to earlier times, restricting Jews from participating in the economy were reinforced in addition to the introduction of a forced labour regime in the frontlines for Jewish men as soon as Hungary entered WW2.
May 18, 1941
About 1700 kilometres to the west, a parallel universe was unfolding that would intersect with mine many years later. Albert Cox, a resident of Leicester, England, had just attained his teaching certificate and was about to go to war. On July 14, 1941, he enlisted with the RAF at Regent Park, London on Bastille Day. From 1940 on, Albert kept a daily journal of military events including adventures that took him to places such as Georgia, Alabama Halifax, Winnipeg, Estevan Saskatchewan, Trenton Ontario, and Italy; places visited that were part of his training regiment as a pilot and navigator.
“I was introduced to military discipline. My rank was AC1 (Aircraftsman First Class). I was fitted out in the traditional blue uniform that showed the world that I was a flyer in training by wearing a white flash in my RAF cap. We learned how to march and drill in unison, how to keep our buttons and shoes shiny, how to prepare for kit inspection, how to salute an officer, in fact, how to become a model soldier. My hair was trimmed short. There was a nightly curfew – and I received a pay packet about every two weeks. I forget the actual amount, but I remember that AC’s receive a mere pittance.”
September 23, 1941
Albert Cox sets sail from Liverpool in a beat-up oil tanker to continue his training overseas. He was given no information of his posting but told to report in Manchester then whisked overnight to Liverpool.
“… It carried about ten aircraftmen as passengers. We slept in hammocks deep in the hold of this wretched smelly ship. …The crew eased our fear of the rats that scurried along the hammock ropes and sometimes over our reclining bodies, informing us that they were too well fed to bother with humans. Cats were in a cat’s heaven. Their natural enemies were fat and sluggish. We were a convoy of about a hundred ships, guarded by a battle ship, a cruiser and quite a number of destroyers and corvettes…We were drilled over and over again as to what we should do when the alarm sounded … and we had lots of alarms. It was a nerve wracking two weeks…It was about this time that I learned from one of the crew that our destination was Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.”
“In mid-Atlantic, we came under attack from U-boats and one of the crew estimated that we lost four ships from torpedoes. The destroyers darted in andaround the convoy and on at least two occasions we were surrounded by a black smoke screen.”
“One fine afternoon when the sky was clear and the sea was calm, we were called to the deck by an alarm. We were being stalked by a German Condor aeroplane. The convoy’s anti-aircraft guns opened up. The Condor aimed a salvo of bombs at the battleship but narrowly missed. The worry was that we were pretty certain that the Condor crew had pin-pointed our position to every U-boat in the area.”
December 12, 1941
Hungary, after joining the invasion of the Soviet Union in June 1941, declares war on the United States. Jewish men drafted into labour service were sent to the Russian front. I now recall my father’s inability to write properly as a result of an injury received from an exploding device during the war.
Many Jews converted to Catholicism in order to circumvent limitations and oppression.
September 23-October 7, 1941
“It took us two days or so to reach Toronto where we were met at the railway station by a convoy of RCAF vehicles that carried us to Maple Leaf Gardens. An ice-hockey game was in progress as we arrived… I was fascinated with Toronto and had a three-night affair with an attractive 30-year-old woman who I met at a Toronto dance hall.”
October 1941-July 1942
“We travelled through the states of Michigan, Indiana, Kentucky, Georgia, and Tennessee. Our final destination was the large American military base of MaxwellField, Montgomery Alabama… It was all a completely new world to me. The meals were sumptuous.”
“The purpose of our three-week stay was to acclimatize us to the military expectations of the Americans. We were not impressed with the American version of discipline training… The menial tasks were carried out entirely by blacks… We were shown many films in all aspects of Venereal Disease which was rampant in Alabama. We were discouraged from having any contacts with blacks. We learned of the activities of the Ku Klux Klan. I found the inhabitants of Montgomery to be incredibly bigoted and racist.”
“Our Elysian life changed radically after December 7th, the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbour and brought USA into the war. Off came our suits and on went our blue uniforms. The training that had been illegal under ‘international rules,’ now became legal. We were no longer ‘civilians’ training to be pilots. The Americans were now our comrades in arms.”
After completing his training in the US, Al was transferred to Trenton Ontario and Estevan Saskatchewan where it was determined that a problem with depth perception ended his pilot’s designation and forced him to become an Observer (navigator).
“When I arrived in Winnipeg on July 1942, I was welcomed with a heat wave. … I put up in a rough, cheap hotel quite close to Winnipeg City Centre, Public Library, and there I met my future wife, Miss Frances (Tanty) Cronin. Tanty was an incredibly beautiful girl and I was completely enchanted.”
“I graduated as an Observer on April 2nd, 1943, and was presented with my Observer Wings by the Commanding Officer with the famous Billy Bishop in attendance, who treated us to a pep talk. After the ceremony, Billy Bishop gave an exhibition of stunt flying over the base.”
19 March 1944
Germany occupies Hungary and the Hungarian government orders the deportation of all Jews. My mother and her sisters are gathered from the surrounding regions of Győr into a ghetto of 5 000 people and transported to Auschwitz in cattle cars.
Once more, I am not aware of my father’s circumstances; of his physical separation from his first wife and daughter or the reasons for his survival. By the time mass deportation ceased in June 1944, just about all Jews in the countryside had gone. The final roundup of Jews in Budapest continued well into 1945, in spite of the inevitable liberation of Europe. Germany surrenders May 7, 1945.
My father returned to his hometown, Csorna, Hungary, having somehow survived, only to learn that his wife and daughter had perished in Auschwitz.
In the meantime, my future mother and her two sisters survived Auschwitz and the “Death March.” They eventually made their way back to their home town and tried to pick up a semblance of their previous lives.
My father marries my mother who is from the neighbouring city of Győr.
I was born in 1948. We then move to Budapest and can visualize my first recollection of events as an only child in a happy household. Family members who survived the death camps joined us in Budapest. I can recall visiting my aunt, uncle, and cousin in Győr during summer holidays. I was immune to the impact my parents must have endured during the war years of 1939-1945. Post-war realities of bombed out buildings and bread lines were still evident under the Communist regime, who exacted a punishing legacy for Hungary’s participation in the war with Germany.
September 11-30, 1943
“My son Dennis was born in St Boniface Hospital on August 31st, 1943. Now I held him in my arms for the first time.”
“When I said goodbye to Tanty at the end of September, the future was very much in doubt. At that time there was no sign of any quick end of the war and the odds were that it would be years before Tanty and I would meet again. I’m pretty ‘hard’ but I cried when we parted.”
“We eventually arrived in New York City — but we had no time for sightseeing. We found ourselves on that great luxury liner—Queen Mary. We were but a small part of a large army of servicemen, mainly Americans… The trip this time took us fivedays. The Queen Mary travelled across the Atlantic at great speed without a single escort… the destroyer’s engines were not powerful enough to give the destroyers sufficient speed capabilities. We were relieved when we sighted the coastline of Ireland, and later Scotland…I was back in my homeland after a two-year absence.”
March 14, 1944
Other postings and stops included Algiers, Catalina Sicily, Oran, Foggia and Zara Yugoslavia.
“We became a part of the D-Day Dodgers. We arrived in Naples March 15th, 1944, and Mount Vesuvius welcomed us with one of the rare eruptions… We joined our comrades in 608 RAF Squadron and our role was to protect convoys, report weather conditions near the Mediterranean, carry out armed reconnaissance and take photographs for the army.”
“The greatest danger to our lives, especially at night, was the American fighter plane whose ‘aircraft recognition’ was appalling and the American pilots on a number of occasions shot down Hudsons when they believed they were attacking Junker 88’s.
“In the period after I had finished my pilot training, I survived over 200 takeoffs and landings in a 34-month period. I was fortunate.”
From 1946 to the summer of 1955
“We lived in Leicester. During the period we added three more offspring to our family; Kathleen, Dale (Tony) and Shannon…In June 1955 Tanty and I went by train to London where we were interviewed for a teaching position in Saskatchewan Canada. I accepted the offer of a one-roomed school near Craik and so began another challenging chapter in our lives.”
1956 Revolution
We had become somewhat settled in our home in Budapest in spite of post war austerities, as a result of Russia’s political and economic stranglehold on the country. I began grade two in September when all hell broke loose in Hungary’s attempted withdrawal from the Warsaw Pact. Russia responded by sending in the Red Army to quell the uprising, resulting in several thousand dead.
My parents decided that they have had enough of the uncertainties that lay ahead and determined to leave the country before the borders became permanently sealed. My mother and I joined my cousin’s family in Győr. Under the cover of darkness, we assembled at the border with other refugees and began our walk across farmers’ fields, each family carrying a single suitcase with all their worldly possessions. My father and other aunt would later join us with legal documents at our destination. We headed toward lights on the horizon and were met by Russian soldiers waiting at the Austrian border. They had to be bribed with alcoholic beverages to let us through.
We came under the auspices of the Austrian Red Cross. Our first stop was in Strasburg’s refugee camp then made our way to Paris where we stayed with a cousin for six months, while waiting for a country to accept us. My cousin and I were enrolled at a private school just outside of Paris until Canada came through, giving us landed immigrant status.
On May 15, 1957, we landed in Edmonton then made our way to Saskatoon where we were assisted with accommodations and employment. My father and aunt joined us by way of Israel. Unfortunately, my mother passed away from breast cancer soon, leaving my 58-year-old father to look after me. Our family had a six-year stint in Montreal only to return to Saskatoon when opportunities turned up and our grasp of the English language had improved. It took my family about ten years of adjustment to be gainfully employed.
What happened to my father? When my father married my mother after the war, he was 20 years older. Upon me returning to Saskatoon to live with my aunt and uncle in 1963, my father remained in Montreal and died in 1968. By then, I was 19 years old. He had a very difficult time adjusting to Canadian life due to his age, but was an active member of the Montreal Jewish Community. He had gone to the hospital for a minor operation and never recovered due to some unknown complication. I only visited him during summer holidays. Unfortunately, I never really got to know him well. Most of what I know about the holocaust I learned from one of my surviving aunts that lived in Saskatoon. While my relatives were alive, I really had no interest in my past until much later.
Much later, I had a chance to visit Hungary (Budapest in 1971) on my way home, from a year spent in Israel on a kibbutz. (My second visit took place about 5 years ago also to Budapest, where I assisted the Red Cross in escorting an elderly gentleman from Saskatoon to see his long-lost daughter.)
Canada, 1955
“My first school in Saskatchewan was the one room school of Holmesdale, situated about 7 miles from Craik. We lived in the tiniest of teacherages with no electricity and no indoor toilets. Tanty and I and the four children slept in the single small bedroom… I bought my first car ever and drove to Saskatoon a number of times… My salary for that school year was $2 800 and that was supplemented by $9.00 per month for my janitorial services. I cleaned the school and looked after the furnaces. I was teaching children to read in the same room as I was teaching the grade 10 subjects to 16- and 17-year-olds. It was an excellent educational experience for it gave me a look at the whole wide panorama of education in Saskatchewan.”
Canada, 1956-1964
Other teaching positions included a stop in Woodrow from 1956-1964 and Saskatoon from 1966-1986, followed by retirement. Albert served as an administrator on various boards such as President of Saskatoon Teachers Association, Commissionaire of Saskatoon Minor Soccer Association and President of the Nutana Legion. He was involved in provincial politics with The New Democratic Party and a guest lecturer at the University of Saskatchewan. He and his wife Tanty, also helped to raise four wonderful children.
My life from 1974
The year 1974 turned out to be momentous. Upon completion of my education, I received employment at the University of Saskatchewan in the Department of Agriculture. I was also active in the sport of soccer, playing for a team sponsored by the Saskatoon Nutana Legion. I can clearly recall the first time my team visited the Nutana Legion; listening to a booming voice with a Middle English accent, emanating from the lounge, I recognized Alf Bibby, our manager, sitting with the owner of that voice. Alf’s wife and a young lady were also at the same table. Alf introduced Albert Cox, the president of the Nutana Legion and his daughter, Kathy. Albert immediately brought us a round of drinks and the rest is history.
When I married Kathy in 1975, I was warmly welcomed into her family, having few surviving members left from my family side. It was truly a gratifying experience being part of a group of people that accepted me without prejudice. We have been married now for 48 years.
After my employment with the university, I was hired by the Saskatoon Police Service and retired after 24 years. Presently, I drive a school bus to keep busy.
I have 2 children and 4 grandchildren. I am an active member of my Jewish community and serve on its board.
Time and time again, I come to realize that my good fortune was a result of decisions made by my parents in leaving their homeland and taking a chance that life in another country such as Canada would provide greater freedoms and opportunities. As refugees, without knowledge of their destination or expectations of the life that would await them, one can only imagine the fears and uncertainty they must have felt in making this monumental undertaking.
I also owe a great deal of gratitude to Albert Cox who risked his life as an airman with the Allies, hastening the defeat of Germany and the liberation of the Nazi death camps. I also am grateful for the decision he and his wife made in choosing Canada their home as well having a daughter who has become my lifetime partner.
Finally, I thank Canada for accepting us unconditionally as refugees in our hour of desperation, but fear for the people of Europe, owing to dictators such as Stalin, Hitler, Putin and the like, that have supplanted democratic rule, creating historical refugee disasters. I am fearful of seeing Hungarian PM Orbán copying Putin’s style of ruling the country and shocked by his close ties with the dictator.
I think that I have led a full and fortunate life.
The life of a physician-lawyer, Sándor Ullmann– Part Two
This is the continuation of Sándor’s life story, this time written by his daughter, Margie Ullmann-Weil, from the moment when Sándor arrived in Canada. Let us recall the first part of Sándor’s story while he lived still in Hungary in the darkest times of the 20th century published on our website under the title “A classmate had the foresight to provide him with a Nazi hat and Arrow Cross shirt”.
Read this exiting second part on how Sándor built up his personal and professional life overseas from zero.
P. Krausz
Margie’s recollections
My daughter, Savannah Weil, wrote a biography about my father based on her online research and from listening to taped interviews of him. Her biography covers his life in Hungary. I will attempt to provide information about his career and accomplishments, but more importantly, share information about the personal side of this most remarkable man.
He always wanted to be a physician. Instead, he started at the University of Pécs, Faculty of Law because it was the only university that would admit him during a time that Jews were banned from advanced study in Hungary. While there, he sat in on medical school classes. After the war he was finally able to go to medical school and moved from the University of Budapest to the University of Graz in Austria and finally to the University of Munich in Germany, where he completed his medical residency. He received his Diploma in Medicine at Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München in September 1950.
My parents met over cigarette rations. After the war Sándor and my mother, Irene (Irén in Hungarian) Steinberger, were both working at the Jewish Hospital in Budapest, he as a doctor and she as a nurse. My mother smoked cigarettes, he did not. Her roommate mentioned that Sándor Ullmann was not using his cigarette rations and so she knocked on his door.
As you may recall from Savannah’s story, my father came from Győr. Irene was born in Fábiánháza (a village in NE Hungary close to the Hungaria-Romanian border), Hungary on February 19, 1927.
She was sent to Auschwitz on June 14,1944 when she was 17. In August 1944, she was moved to the Gross-Rosen concentration camp / Parschnitz work camp.
Parschnitz, located NE of Prague, was part of a complex of forced-labor camps established in the Sudetenland to supply workers for textile plants in Trautenau (Trutnov) near the Czech-Polish border. The women prisoners worked at the Hasse and Welzel textile plants manufacturing uniforms and gas mask parts for the Wehrmacht.
She was liberated from Gross-Rosen on May 8, 1945. In July 1945, she moved to Budapest and trained as a nurse. The only member of her immediate family to survive was her brother, Pinchas.
After the war Pinchas moved to Israel. There he changed his family name from Steinberger (which in German means someone from the stone mountain) to Avni (which means stone in Hebrew). Because of the change in name, it took my parents several years to find and reconnect with Irene’s brother.
In 1949 my parents were smuggled out of Hungary to escape the Communist Regime. They arrived in Austria and lived in Vienna for a month, and then relocated to Graz. In May 1950, they moved to Munich where my father completed his medical residency. My parents traveled from Ludwigsburg to Bremen Germany on March 15, 1951 then left Bremen by boat for Canada on March 27, 1951.
They crossed the Atlantic on the SS Stewart Bruce. When my father filled out the immigration paperwork for Canada, he entered Sandor for his middle name (as he had no middle name), and listed Alexander as his first name. The English-speaking customs officials did not realize that Sandor and Alexander were, in fact, the same name. From that point forward his legal name was Alexander Sandor Ullmann.
He arrived in Canada without speaking a word of English. He needed to pass the Canadian Medical Board exams, so he immediately began to memorize the English dictionary. It was quite helpful that he had a photographic memory. He set up his medical practice in Windsor Ontario.
My parents were living in my father’s medical office space when my brother was born in November 1951. They named him Stewart Bruce, after the ship that brought them to Canada. I was born in 1953. I was named after my paternal grandmother, Margit Gescheit Ullmann. (The Gescheits were a large family from Salgótarján in the northern part of Hungary). Shortly after my birth, my parents bought their first home.
Judaism and supporting the State of Israel were of first and foremost importance in my parents’ lives. My mother was very active in selling Israeli Bonds. They traveled several times to Israel to spend time with Irene’ brother, Pinchas, who had settled in Karkur. They also spent time with Gescheit family members who had settled in Givat Ada. Throughout his life Sándor stayed committed to supporting Israel and ensuring survival of a Jewish homeland.
Life seemed quite promising. My parents developed close friendships. My father’s medical practice was successful. They did not have much money but they had fun and they traveled some. I have vivid memories of my parents sitting with friends and playing cards, often with Magyar Kártya (Hungarian cards). Sadly, my mother was diagnosed with granulocytic leukemia and died a few years later in 1959 at the age of 34 years.
After Irene’s death Sándor began to commute over the US-Canadian border to Detroit Michigan to pursue his dream of specializing in Pathology. During this time, he also maintained his medical practice in Windsor, Canada.
He met a woman through mutual friends in Montreal. Hanica Cohen was a Holocaust survivor from Romania. In 1962, they were married in the home of Sándor’s paternal aunt, Sari Ullmann Unger (Frigyes’ sister). Sándor adopted Hanica’s daughter, Sabrina, and raised her as his own.
We spent many holidays together with Sari and her family. It is where I learned to speak a little bit of Hungarian and enjoy the smells and tastes of delicious Hungarian food. One of Sándor’s favorite foods was chicken paprikás with nokedli (paprika chicken with noodles). He shared with us that his mother always made him chicken paprikás on his birthday. He also loved Hungarian poppyseed rolls (mákos beigli) and we enjoyed them on a regular basis.
When Sándor finished his medical residency in Pathology, he accepted a job at a hospital in New York City. After only a year in New York, he made the decision to return to Michigan because he felt that it was a better place to raise children and because he had a large extended community of friends (both Hungarian and Jewish friends) there.
Hanica died in 1978. In January 1980 he married Faye Schrage Kleiff and helped to raise her two children, Marcy and Steven.
He had a long and satisfying career working as the Chief of Pathology at Crittenton Hospital in Rochester Michigan. He continued to work there until his death from chronic lymphocytic leukemia in October 1994 at age of 69 years.
Sándor was extraordinarily generous in so many ways. When he opened his medical practice in Windsor, he made special arrangements with the owner of a restaurant across the street from his office to provide food to anyone who said I am Dr Ullmann’s patient and he told me to come here to eat. Long after he stopped seeing patients in the office, he continued to make house calls to neighbors and friends when they were sick. He was ever present and supportive for his two paternal aunts – Ella who lived in Israel and Sari who lived in Toronto Canada. The same was true for him maternal aunt, “Pici” (Olga Gescheit) Sunshine, who lived in New York. He co-signed loans for his employees and helped some of them pay off their tuition. When people wanted to thank him, he would say “please pay it forward and help out someone else when you can”.
Throughout his life Sándor loved to study, to learn and to teach. While in medical school he supported himself by tutoring students in Latin. At Crittenton Hospital he taught a weekly class for the doctors to help them know how to better diagnose different types of cancers. The hospital named the medical library after my father. He developed a program for new immigrant physicians to teach them English and help prepare them to take the Medical Board Exams in English. At Wayne State University he taught pathology to medical students. At his synagogue he taught beginning reading classes for adults learning Hebrew. He enjoyed preparing to be the Torah reader on Shabbat when asked.
He spoke many languages and loved exploring the origin of words. He always kept a dictionary nearby and was delighted when he would learn a new word. He loved getting to know people and he had a talent for learning much about a person’s life story, even in brief meetings.
He was a master Bridge player and he loved symphonic music. He loved helping people. He believed strongly in God and talked about his special relationship with God. He saw the goodness in people, and he was a great optimist.
In the addition to all these extraordinary accomplishments and traits, and ways that my father impacted the world, perhaps his greatest accomplishment was as a father. He lived the Jewish Value of “Tikkum Olam”, repairing the world, through his actions and examples. He was devoted, generous, understanding, and compassionate with his kids. His legacy endures in the lives and work of his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
It doesn’t surprise me that Sándor set up a student scholarship at the Révai High School in Győr which once he had also attended. He talked about what it was like to be a student in the school where his father taught, and how it made him strive to be the best in hope of earning his father’s praise. Advice he shared with his children from when we were quite young is that a person could lose all possessions, but that no one could ever take away someone’s education.
The misadventures of a Medical Doctor from Győr in the final days of World War 2
In the first part, you learned why and how the diary is born, and in the second, you read about how German and Hungarian military units cannot resist the Russian advance, how bombs are falling during the Christmas holidays, how a good pair of boots is worth its weight in gold and how a doctor can help those in trouble anywhere and anytime.
Let’s continue. We are still in 1944, but the last two entries in this chapter were written in January 1945.
Tuesday, 26 December
In the morning, we have a serious discussion about how to proceed, because the luggage is very heavy on foot. It’s true that we are relieved, because apparently while we were rolling barrels of petrol in Felcsút, our luggage was searched and the more valuable things were gone. Jancsi Freiberger was most seriously concerned because he had jewellery, that was gone now. In my medical bag the alcohol was missing, all the bandages, injections and 100 gr Wetol disappeared. As a result, the bag was almost completely empty, but miraculously syringes, pincers etc. were not missing.
Censorship stamp on a letter, Source: HDKE
We discovered these losses only this morning. In view of the large number of Russian reinforcements, all of which were heading towards Bicske, we were already thinking of going back, when we saw a large caravan with 2 wagons, also heading towards Székesfehérvár. As it turned out, they were in a similar situation like we were and so we quickly joined them. We were able to put our backpacks on the wagon and were able to continue our journey. At around 4 pm we arrived in Baracska, where we managed to find accommodation and stayed overnight.
Alcsút – Baracska, Google maps
Wednesday, 27 December
The next morning, we continued our journey and soon reached the Budapest-Székesfehérvár road full of marching people, where some members of our party broke off because they were on their way to Ercsi. We continued on the Balaton route and we were stopped only once by the Russian for a “robot” (Russian word for physical work). After half an hour we were released from the robot. Around 2 pm we arrived at the road junction to Adony and here we unfortunately had to be separated because the waggons arrived home, meaning that they did not continue the route with us to Székesfehérvár.
Baracska – Velence Lake, Google maps
So, we continued our way along Lake Velence, passing abandoned cottages, until we found one with a stove and a bed. Here we spent the night. Tomatoes were found in the pantry, so we even had a delicious hot tomato soup and soon fell asleep.
Thursday, 28 December
Unfortunately, we had to pick up our backpacks again in the morning and sadly trudged on. The weather was not good either, the mildness had been replaced by severe cold and we almost had to hurry. We had hardly walked for half an hour before we spotted ox-carts ahead of us.
We immediately charged on and soon caught up with them and of course loaded our packs on the carts. It turned out that some of the ox-carts had come from the village Tab, where they carried ammunition for the Russians and were now on their way home. Three of the unknown forced labourers on the carts were from Tab, they would certainly get home soon through Székesfehérvár, where we were also heading.
Hungarian soldiers on the front, Source: hirado.hu
The people of Tab are urging us to go with them, but we are sticking to our original plan. My feet are really suffering from the constant pressure of the short shoes, but I can’t sit still because of the cold, and I’m just trudging along. As we get closer to Székesfehérvár, the sound of shelling gets closer and closer and the three of us put our heads together worried about the hours ahead of us. We have just come from one front-line and are now running into another.
We ask the Russian soldiers how far the front-line is, but either they don’t know or they don’t want to tell us, and they just say “daleko”, far away. Finally, one says 15-20 km, that’s something solid but not very reassuring.
Finally, we arrive in Székesfehérvár at 2 p.m., and after saying good-bye to the people of Tab and the ox-carts which have done such a good service, we decide to look immediately for the town-hall to find the Headquarters, both to get a certificate, or some sort of a document, and to offer our services to the citizens of Székesfehérvár.
Velence Lake – Székesfehérvár, Google maps
Still about 100 m away from the Headquarters, a Russian patrol intercepted us and took us to the G.P.U. (Soviet political police agency) to identify ourselves. After half an hour of waiting we are brought in front of a Russian captain, we confirm who we are with the help of an interpreter and we are released but no document of any kind is given.
We continued our way to the town-hall where we hope to obtain some sort of a document …, but the situation is not so simple. After a long wait, I speak to the mayor, as a senior citizen, who tells me that the Russian authorities do not want to issue any documents and that we need a certificate in Hungarian and Cyrillic. As doctors, we are not really needed, but he advises us to talk to Dr Berzsenyi, the director of the hospital, he may be able to employ us.
The situation is not at all promising, meanwhile it is completely dark and we decide to spend the night in the basement of the town-hall, in the police station room. We make a pretty good bed out of mattresses and lay our tired, tormented bodies to rest.
Forced labourers in Hungary, Source: mek.oszk.hu – Braham
The next day morning we went to the city general hospital to speak to Dr Berzsenyi, but he was not to be found. Instead, we met a forced labour doctor there, whose explanations led us to give up waiting. We got back to the city, where we thought the Communist Party would give us a certificate. The Communist Party was in a frenzy and they couldn’t give us any certificate since the Cyrillic text and stamp were not ready and we would have to wait a few days.
In the Party Office I meet Dr Pál (Pali) Alpár, who graduated under me in Pécs, and he offers, if nothing else, to take us to the military hospital installed in farm stables, where he will provide us with accommodation and some food. Considering that we have no other choice at the moment, we accept the offered solution and move into the basement of the said military hospital, where we will find a place to stay in rather miserable conditions.
The conditions in Székesfehérvár are not very rosy, the front line is about 9-10 km away from the city, the shelling is almost regular, day after day in the evening hours, so we spend all our time in the basement.
Székesfehérvár 1945, Source: makettinfo.hu
… We received the desired identity card at the beginning of January, although it does not have the Russian stamp on it, but it looks good and as time has proved, it was worth waiting for.
Charap and Freiberger are of the opinion that they will take advantage of the invitation from the village Tab and go there. It is beyond Siófok, so they are further from the front line. I, for my part, in the naive belief that Győr will soon be under Russian occupation, do not want to move, and Laci Harmat, who has now turned up also from Győr is with me in this view. Laci Harmat works in a Russian bakery and supplies us with bread, which we desperately need because it is hard to get.
The incoming news is all the more positive. The Russians possibly make reconnaissances directly in the vicinity of the town and Pali Alpár and the forced labourers there leaved on Saturday for Pest on 6 January, which they expect to fall soon. In any case, they do not want to stay in Székesfehérvár because the situation is very uncertain.
The three of us, and I separately with Laci Harmat, have a lot of discussions and decide to leave on Monday, 8 January. Freiberger and Charap aim for Tab. The two of us will take the Balaton Road to Pest. Laci Harmat has friends in Martonvásár, we will find out the situation there and then decide where to go. In the meantime, we learn from the British radio that the Germans have launched an offensive along the Pest-Vienna Road. A German attack has reached all the way to the Bicske area…
The front is getting closer and closer, the shelling is constant and we are really worried. On Sunday morning, 7 January, while cleaning up, Laci Harmat drops in and brings the alarming news that the Russians are evacuating the civilian population in the upper part of Székesfehérvár and they are very much in a retreat. We don’t think much about it, but vote to leave immediately, and so we part ways.
Freiberger and Charap are leaving for Tab, the two of us are heading for Pest after a tender farewell. We set off, thoroughly packed, and sure enough, we see … loaded Russian vehicles, ready to go, transporting wounded Russians, partly in Red Cross cars, partly in buses.
At the crossroads, a woman joins us, heading for Dömsöd, and we set off on the slippery road to the highway. We change our luggage at a 4-km interval and soon arrive in Pákozd, where we rest, eat, and are even requested to see a sick person. Then we continue our journey in heavy snow. After a few kilometres of walking, we manage to hop on a Russian truck carrying vine that takes us all the way to Velence. …
Székesfehérvár – Pákozd – Velence – Adony, Google maps
Meanwhile, a Russian car comes along and the driver asks us where Dunapentele is via Adony. I explain the route with the help of a map I have on me, the Russian is impatient and tells us to go with him as guides. The car tempts us, … so we get in. In pouring snow we arrived in Adony, where, having given instructions to the Russian, we disembarked and looked for overnight accommodation.
Master carpenter Béla Stanczel and his family made us very welcome. They immediately put us up in the front room, where there were 2 beds and 1 bedclothes, … we cleaned up and settled in. By the time all this was done … a Russian pilot captain and an interpreter came to say that he was sleeping here too. We agreed that he would sleep in one of the beds, Laci and I would sleep in the other one, and we would put the sofa in the other room. We had dinner with the housekeepers and soon went to bed. The bed is quite hard, two of us sleep in it, uncomfortable, but we woke up rested.
Our hosts offered us breakfast and were very kind, their postal address is Béla Stanczel, Adony, Magyar u. 306. All what they had, they shared with us, they didn’t ask who we were, what we were.
Monday, 8 January (1945 !)
In the morning we set off to the Danube to cross to the other side. The boaters crossing the Danube were taking good advantage of the boom and took people across for Pengo 50-100 each. There is no other choice, you have to pay.
We arrive in Dömsöd at around 3 pm, where we get very disappointed. The lady who came with us was the wife of a mill owner, … but there was nobody at home, the miller’s house had totally been stripped, only the bare walls remained, even the doors and windows were missing. The two of us looked for a place to sleep and managed to find a farmhouse, but in much more miserable conditions than the day before.
Adony – Dömsöd, Google maps
Tuesday, 9 January
We set off towards Pest in the bitter cold, but luckily, barely leaving the village, we manage to climb on a carriage and that takes us a distance of about 12 km. This gives us a great advantage and we stop at a farmhouse 8 km before Taksony, have breakfast and for the first time we drink tea without sugar. Later on, I will get very much used to this way of drinking tea, because unfortunately we don’t have access to sugar anywhere.
The cold has eased a little, but it started snowing again and we set off in a heavy snowfall. A 2-hours journey is covered in 3 and a half hours, because the snowfall has turned into a blizzard. We arrive in Taksony in a strong headwind and heavy snowfall.
Dömsöd – Taksony, Google maps
Already on the way, we decided to stay in a decent place, because we really needed a complete rest and we wanted to do some serious cleaning. The shoes I’m wearing are soaked through and my feet are soaking wet. We get very good accommodation at Gáspár Kresz, good hot foot baths, a thorough wash and a rest in a well-heated kitchen.
I find out that there is no doctor in Taksony and I am immediately called upon. People in Taksony beg me to stay there, but I am tempted to get closer to Győr and my wife, so I don’t give in to their demands. After a good dinner, we wake the next day thoroughly rested, but the police are here for me to go to headquarters immediately.
At the headquarters, I am checked, at first, they think I am of German origin after my mother’s name, but after I have managed to explain this, the captain declares that he will take me on as a conscript doctor. Taksony is a Swabian village and the male population of the village is recruited from 18 to 45 years while the female population from 18 to 30. So, I am forced to do 2 days of conscription, during this time Laci gets a good rest. I also have a few patients, thus money and food. The conscripts are taken by car through Hatvan. I ask the captain to allow me to get on the car to get to Hatvan, but the captain does not agree, a sad experience.
(Photos are for illustration only.)
End of Part III.
And don’t miss the fourth, in which you’ll meet drunken Russian soldiers, again skinning our heroes, who are then summoned by the Russian police, subsequently they help the Russians in their search for wine, while they move closer to Pest.
Uncle Gyula, by his full name Gyula Perl was born in Győr in 1881. In 1909, he changed his name to Gyula Pál. And when he lived in Denmark to Julius Pal.
Actually, one of his brothers married the sister of my grandmother and what is more, his other brother married my grandmother’s cousin. This is why it crossed my mind to remember him and share the life story of this remarkable person with you.
The graves of Berta and David Perl at the Jewish Cemetery in Győr-Sziget, 2000s, received from Esther Bánki
His parents were called David Perl (1839-1909) and Berta Perl (1857-1907) came from Vágújhely (Slovakia). His father, David Perl, was a merchant and later a carrier. His company was called “Perl Dávid és Társa”. They are buried in the Jewish cemetery in Győr. Gyula had four siblings: Arnold (1878-1945), Otto (1879-1944), Elza (1893-?), Ignatz (?-?) and Alajos (1888-1889).
Gyula Perl attended the Benedictine Grammar School in Győr. Among his schoolmates we see Frigyes Riesz, later the internationally renowned mathematician. Gyula Perl remained in contact with him later on. He was a talented student getting the best marks in nearly all subjects. After finishing the Grammar School in 1900, he continued his studies at the Budapest University where he got his degree in 1908. He went on studying at universities of Göttingen, Munich and possibly Paris.
From 1908–1918 he was a teacher at the high school of Székelyudvarhely (now Romania). The famous Hungarian writer, Dezső Szabó, teacher in Székelyudvarhely at the time, described him in his autobiographical novel as an intelligent, educated, and erudite person, but maybe too ambitious. (Dezső Szabó: Az elsodort falu (The village swept away); novel, 1919) Besides teaching he conducted an intensive research work under the guidance of Frigyes Riesz, who was then professor at the University of Kolozsvár (now Romania). Between 1912 and 1915 Gyula Pál published nine papers in leading periodicals. In 1916, he got his doctorate from Kolozsvár University under Riesz.
Perl tried to get a job in a university town offering good conditions for research. His applications for jobs at high schools in Budapest and Pozsony (Bratislava, Slovakia today) were turned down, but at the end of WW1, in 1918 or 1919, he managed to get a job in Pozsony. During the WW1 he served in the Hungarian army as a volunteer officer on the Italian front. He was wounded and perhaps a bullet remained in his back for ever which made sitting difficult for him and badly affected his temper. He received a Hungarian army medal in 1922.
Copenhagen
He participated in the revolutionary movement in Hungary in 1918-1919. But it was possibly not the main reason of his emigration to Denmark. He simply lost his job as a consequence of Pozsony becoming part of the newly created Czechoslovakia.
Fortunately, Harald Bohr, mathematician (brother of the Nobel Prize winner Niels Bohr, Danish physicist), whom Perl met probably in Göttingen earlier, invited Perl to go to Copenhagen.
He started teaching as a temporary staff member at the Skt. Jørgens Gymnasium (Grammar School), where Børge Jessen, who later became a leading figure in the field of mathematics in Denmark, had been one of his students.
In the meantime, Julius Pal seemingly became a mediator in relations between Hungarian and Danish scientists through the Bohr brothers and Jessen.
Postcard from Gyula Perl to his nephew, Ödön Bánki, 30 June 1926; Ödön Bánki (1903-1978) was a medical student in Munich between 1925-1927, received from Esther Bánki
In 1925, Pal joined the Polyteknisk Læreanstalt (Institute of Polytechnics) where he worked until his death. Beside his main job there, he undertook temporary part time jobs, too.
He started at Polyteknisk as a teaching assistant in 1925, and he continued as a lecturer as from 1926. His professional path culminated by the King of Denmark nominating him to associate professor in 1929. As a precondition, he was granted Danish citizenship in 1928. He taught mainly analysis and wrote a bulky and excellent textbook on the subject published in 1931 and rewritten in 1941.
From 1932 on, Pal was the teaching assistant of H. Bohr at the university. In addition, he was the first librarian of the institute. Unfortunately, in 1938 he had to leave the university because of his bad personal contacts with H. Bohr, B. Jessen and other professors.
I, my dear nephew, long for home every day and it is a special day for me if only a letter comes from home. I believe that [in this respect] your fate is easier than mine; because I was already 40 years old when I left my home country and at this age transplantation is difficult.
I do not long even for my siblings as much as I long after your father. My dear friend Zoltán [Dr. Zoltán Bánki (1873-1934), Ödön’s father] has virtually forgotten me, but I think of him every day and I would like to talk to him about all kinds of things and be reassured that there are people whose character and noblesse cannot subdued and destroyed. (Letter from Gyula Pal to Ödön Bánki, after July 1932)
By this time in Denmark, he changed his name Pal Gyula to Julius Pal loosing also an accent mark in his family name. It should be noted, however, that he kept Pal Gyula as signature in all his letters and felt home sick for a long time. He could visit Hungary only twice. First in 1931, with his family spending several months in Győr at his brother’s wherefrom he probably visited his sister Elsa Fisher, later Pollak, who lived in Vienna. He went for a second visit to Hungary alone in 1935.
Telegram from Copenhagen from Gyula, Alma and Birgit Pal to Ödön Bánki to congratulate him on his doctor’s degree, received from Esther Bánki
In 1921, Pal married Alma Christine Bissen (1889-1962), the daughter of the Danish painter Rudolf Bissen. (Alma Christine Bissen was first married with the Swedish/Danish sculptor Gerhard Henning (1880-1967) between 1914 and 1918.) Their only child, Ilona Birgit Pal, was born in 1922.
I myself am almost always ill and my life is not worth much, except for the fact that I can still look after my wife and child better than if they had to make a living on the widow’s pension (which is rather low). (Letter from Gyula Pal to Ödön Bánki, 1932)
Indeed, Pal had to work hard to care for his wife and daughter by teaching in a foreign country in a foreign language. He complained about it in a letter to Frigyes Riesz.
But he kept contact with is hometown Győr. The ceramist Margit Kovács (1902-1977) studied at a porcelain factory in Copenhagen in 1932 and lived for some weeks at Pal’s house. Her father, Sándor Kovács (1871-1912) was actually his friend. In addition, Ödön Bánki and Margit Kovács knew each other from childhood in Győr, their mothers having been friends. (Interesting to note that Alma Bissen Pal worked for 15 years in the porcelain industry and had probably contacts that helped Margit Kovács in her studies.)
From left to right Olga Bánki (my grandmother), Gyula Perl, Frida Polgár (standing), unknown and Viktor Polgár, 1930s (?), received from Esther Bánki
Pal was frequently ill. In spite of this he participated in the resistance during Nazi occupation. His bad state of health became even worse when he got the news after the war about the death of his relatives in Hungary. This surely contributed to his early death in a Copenhagen hospital on September 6, 1946.
Of his close relatives only his sister-in-law Ilona Perl and her son Jancsi survived in Budapest as well as his nephew Peter Thomas Fischer (changed to Fisher in the US) by immigrating to the US in 1938. What happened to his sister Elsa, Peter Thomas Fischer’s mother, is unclear. Nothing is known about the life of Ignatz Perl either.
Written by Esther Bánki, The Netherlands, Gyula Perl’s second niece
May the editor (P. Krausz) quote here a short email he received from Esther Bánki while exchanging on Esther’s writing on his Uncle Gyula:
“Dear Peter Krausz,
My Hungarian is not so good, that’s why I’m writing to you in English. The idea of the meeting in 2024 is really great! Thank you so much! I will definitely send this information to more of my family members. …
My great-grandmother was Lidia Perl. She married Mór Reichenfeld, who was a grain merchant. They had 7 children, but 5 of them died young.
Only my grandfather Zoltán (1873-1934) and his sister Lenke (1875-1944) became adults. Zoltán Reichenfeld, born in Győr, changed his name to Bánki. He was a gynaecologist by profession in Győr. My grandmother’s name was Olga Árpási (former Goldschmied).
They had two children, Ödön and Zsuzsanna (1912-1944). Ödön Bánki (1903-1978), my father, was born in Győr too. He studied in Würzburg and München due to the Numerus Clausus Law in Hungary. He was also a medical doctor. In 1928, he emigrated to The Netherlands and survived there. Here he had 8 children. My aunt was an architect. (I wrote an article about her, translated into Hungarian). She married Dr. István Pál (Sterk). My grandmother and aunt were deported from Győr to Auschwitz and killed there. István Sterk survived in a labour camp. But died of cancer in 1953. His daughter Eszter Sterk (born 1953) lives in Austria now.
In Hungary, I have only a few relatives, all descendants of Adolf König from Györ and I have contact with the descendants of the brothers and sisters of my great-grandmother Lidia Perl. They live in Hungary, Israël, the U.S., Serbia and Australia (Eva Quittner’s family).
Kind regards,
Esther Bánki (born in 1964)
August 2021”
Sources of Gyula Perl’s biography written by Esther Bánki:
An article, Pál Gyula – Julius Pal (1881-1946) the Hungarian – Danish mathematician by László Filep and Sigurd Elkjaer, 2001, was an important source for this biography
The life of a lawyer-physician, Sándor Alexander Ullmann– Part One
Here-below is a document written by Sándor “Alexander” Ullmann’s grand-daughter, Savannah Weil, when she was 21 years of age about her grandfather’s life in Hungary.
According to information received from her mother, i.e. Sándor’s daughter, Savannah has always had a great passion for continuing the research on the Ullmann-Gescheit family tree that her grandfather began to work on in the early 1990s. Much of the information in this biography came from taped interviews of her grandfather.
Savannah’s story on her grandfather starts from the age he took up his studies at the University of Pécs. Let us add an important detail which is that Sándor attended the Győr High School Miklós Révai and passed his maturity exams at this institution.
We received the continuation of Sándor’s life story from his daughter, Margie Ullmann-Weil, from the moment when Sándor had arrived in Canada. We shall publish this document as the 2nd part of Sándor Ullmann’ life story.
But now, let us see the biography of Sándor Alexander Ullmann as noted by her grand-daughter. I have received Sándor’s photos from his family. The rest of the pictures stem from other sources and they are included only for illustrative purposes.
Peter Krausz
The Nazi regime of Germany occupied Hungary on March 19th, 1944. Sándor was 19 years old, in his first year at the University of Pécs, studying law and medicine. When he heard the announcement on the radio, he knew immediately that as a young Jewish man, he must return home to Győr, although he had no idea for how long. The next day, Sándor went to his university to bid farewell to his classmates and teachers, and then boarded a train for Győr. Sándor notes that one classmate had the foresight to provide him with a Nazi hat and Arrow Cross shirt so as to be able to travel freely. As a young Hungarian Jewish boy, Sándor had always experienced anti-Semitism, but never to the extent that occurred during World War II.
Sándor “Alexander” Ullmann was born to Frigyes Ullmann and Margit Gescheit on January 28, 1925 in Salgotarján, Hungary. Frigyes was a teacher although he had been unable to find work since he returned from Siberia as a prisoner of war in 1923. Under Miklós Horthy, Regent of Hungary, it was becoming progressively more difficult for Jews to find work in the government and civil service. At age 6, Sándor moved to Győr with his parents and younger brother, Dezső. Sándor excelled in school and soon became a tutor by age 15, assisting classmates in Latin, German, and French.
Horthy established the first anti-Jewish laws in 1938, marking a significant turning point in Sándor’s life. While Sándor did not observe any overt discrimination against Jews following the introduction of these laws, he did experience first-hand the reluctance of universities to accept Jewish students. In 1942, Sándor won a statewide contest for Hungarian students for his mastery of the Latin language, earning him full tuition at any university of his choice. Unfortunately, the only university to accept him was the Faculty of Law at the University of Pécs. Sándor was adamant that he would attend the University because the government owed him a free education.
Upon arriving, Sándor experienced great anti-Semitism from his classmates and was often physically attacked by them. To make the best of the situation and prove the anti-Semites wrong, Sándor surprised classmates and teachers alike by maintaining a course load in medical and law courses in parallel.
When Sándor returned home to Győr on March 20, 1944, he had no idea how long he would stay there but understood that his life in Hungary would be changing. At 19 years old, Sándor was drafted into the munkaszolgálat, the Hungarian Labor Service, around April of 1944. This was a system of forced labor for Hungarian Jews between the ages of twenty and forty-eight. Units were assigned to mining, construction, clearing minefields, building military fortifications, and digging trenches. Sándor recalls the day that he boarded the train for Pécs to take up the forced service, looking back to see his father and mother for the last time.
Once he arrived in Pécs, Sándor was sent to do hard physical labor in a nearby camp. Later on, Sándor was relocated to various camps and expected to carry out numerous jobs during his period in the Labor Service, one task being to clean up a local ghetto after it had been liquidated. Sándor had never seen a ghetto before and his only knowledge of Nazi persecution came from the short period of time when his father was sent to a labor camp. This was a surreal experience for Sándor as he walked through an empty ghetto and sifted through the objects that characterize one’s life. It was his responsibility to sort various belongings of the faceless Jews that once lived there so that the Nazis could pillage the valuable items. As a boy who was largely sheltered from the poor conditions that many Jews experienced during the Holocaust, Sándor was disoriented by his experiences.
Another of Sándor’s duties in the labor service was to mine manganese in the town of Úrkút (north of Lake Balaton). This task lasted longer than many other jobs but also left a significant impression on him. A typical day at the mine involved working for eight hours, five to six days a week. While the wakeup call was at 5:00am, Sándor habitually arose fifteen minutes early in order to pray, wash at the faucets outside the barracks and get dressed. Breakfast consisted of ersatz (a coffee alternative) and bread. While there were no fences around this particular camp, there was nowhere to escape to as the barracks were at the top of a mountain.
Sándor recalls celebrating his 20th birthday in the mines, reflecting on his life and his future. Because he wanted to have a celebration by himself, Sándor stayed in the mine at the end of the day and celebrated alone for sixteen hours, until the next shift started. Because the guards were unreliable in the camp, no one noticed that he was missing at the end of the workday. Sándor spent the time reciting poetry in different languages and singing Hungarian songs. He spent time planning out the rest of his life and came to the conclusion that he wanted to complete his free education in Hungary specializing in medicine, then would start a new life somewhere else. Sándor had no doubt that he would survive the war and knew that because of the war, he would never live in Hungary again. Sándor recalls his 20th birthday celebration as a joyous time when he was able to introspect and engage in meaningful activities.
Sándor’s time at the mine ended when the guards attempted to drown all of the Jews by shutting off the electricity for the elevators and flooding the mines. The mine was 2,000-3,000 feet underground but the guards did not realize that there were ladders available in case of emergency. Every single Jew escaped from the mine because the guards did not wait behind to ensure that everyone had died. Due to the isolated location, the Jews were soon recaptured and moved to a new camp.
Sándor was one of the privileged Hungarian Jews to receive a false Swedish passport but unfortunately was unable to make use of it. Raoul Wallenberg, a Swedish citizen who had studied in America, was recruited by the U.S. War Refugee Board to travel to Hungary in July 1944 as a Swedish diplomat with the goal of assisting Jews in any way possible. A friend who worked with Raoul Wallenberg mailed the passport to Sándor’s home without knowing whether he was alive and the package was successfully delivered to Sándor at the labor camp. A friendly commanding officer at the labor camp offered to bring Sándor to the border when he learned of the Swedish passport but an opportunity never arose for this plan to be carried out.
Sándor transited the labor camp in Mosonmagyarovár when the Jews received orders of a forced march to the Austrian border at the end of March in 1945. The Jews had been marching for four days when the Russians found them. It was important for Sándor to wear his tallit when he was liberated, a sign of perseverance and commitment to Judaism. Although the Jews were pleased that the Russians had arrived, they were also frustrated that the Russians treated the Jews almost as badly as the Germans or Hungarians. Sándor recalls that a Russian soldier stole his watch and threatened to shoot the Jews if they did not have any more possessions.
After Sándor was liberated from the labor service, he returned to Pécs since Győr had not yet been liberated. Once there, he immediately registered for his second semester at the medical school. Four or five weeks later, Sándor woke up in the hospital due to typhus, without having any memory of how he arrived there. He learned that someone found him lying in the street and took all of his belongings, including his clothes. Once Sándor regained his health, he travelled back to Győr to look for his family but only stayed for twenty-four hours because it was too difficult for him to be there. By 1945, Sándor was finishing his second year of medical school at the age of twenty. After graduation, Sándor moved to Budapest, where he slept on a park bench and worked at a Jewish hospital opened by medical students. Sometime later, doctors took over the duty but Sándor continued to work there along with seven other medical students.
Around September of 1945, Sandor discovered the fate of his family. His mother, father, uncle, and brother were all deported to the Auschwitz concentration camp. His mother, Margit Ullmann, was sent to the gas chamber immediately upon arrival. His brother, Dezső Ullmann, worked in “Canada” (the prisoner term referring to sending inmates to the gas chamber and organizing their belongings) and committed suicide by walking into the electric fence because he could not handle the stress.
Sándor’s father, Frigyes Ullmann, and uncle, József Ullmann, were transported to Dachau in July of 1944. József had died three weeks before Dachau was liberated whereas Frigyes died one day after the camp’s liberation.
Sándor escaped to Austria in 1949, later he moved to Munich, West-Germany, where he completed his medical residency in 1950. He immigrated to Canada on March 27, 1951.
Epilogue of Savannah
I was surprised to learn that when asked why it is important for Sándor to share his story, he could not see the benefit in documenting his experiences. From a personal point of view, this has been an emotional and meaningful opportunity for me as many of my relatives have passed away and my family is quickly losing any ability to learn about our heritage. It is very important for me to learn about my ancestors and this project has reinvigorated my efforts to build a family tree. As a senior project in high school, I was able to build a family tree that goes back ten generations, but as the internet becomes more comprehensive and more records are digitized, I have been able to fill in many holes and elaborate on many details. I wish I could speak with him now to tell him that this opportunity has been powerful and moving and that I will remember what I have learned about his life and his perseverance and optimistic attitude during the war.
Savannah, Sándor’s granddaughter, the author of the present notes, and her mother, Margie, Sándor’s daughter
This has been a meaningful undertaking for me as Sándor, my grandfather, died in 1994 when I was 6 years old. I never had an opportunity to ask my grandfather about his experiences during the war and later his experiences traveling to Michigan via Canada. While it has been difficult to hear a tape recording of his experiences and know that I am unable to ask him questions or initiate a dialogue, I have nonetheless enjoyed the opportunity. Sándor’s story is unlike anything I have come across in my twenty-one years of existence and yet it is amazing to me that we still have many common characteristics as emerging adults.
Sándor mentions on numerous occasions that he often reflected on his life and considered plans for his future. While this is a large part of my life, as I prepare for graduation in a mere few days, it is astonishing to me that while he was in the middle of a war, working in a labor camp under inadequate conditions, he would still take time to plan his future. I think this speaks to the maturity level and state-of-mind of most eighteen-to-twenty-two-year-olds as they reach a point in their life when they are ready to become more independent and create long-term goals. As I struggle to transform my passions into career choices, I admire my grandfather for his determination to get an education regardless of the many obstacles and to use his intellect to help other people.
Savannah Weil
Savannah wrote this when she was 21 years old. She is now 34. She has her graduate degree in Social Work and lives in Philadelphia.
As mentioned in the introduction, we had received the continuation of Sándor’s life story from his daughter, Margie Ullmann-Weil, from the moment when Sándor had arrived in Canada. We shall publish this document as the 2nd part of Sándor Ullmann’ life story.
The misadventures of a Medical Doctor from Győr in the final days of World War 2
In Part I you learnt why and how the diary was written, and that the roads were constantly under attack by Russian planes and the German army, especially supply columns and mechanised units, were pouring back, with many tanks, some of them damaged.
Let us continue. The year is now 1944.
Saturday, 23 December
“The farm and the highway are so congested that it almost offers the opportunity for a plane attack, and it won’t be missed. Russian planes are attacking in low flying with terrible machine gunning, impacts in our immediate vicinity. We get some machine gun fire, but no major hits in the village. Some houses burnt and set on fire, the room in the farm …, the cow shed in Vázsony – the cows have been let out and are now wandering in the
Óbarok, Mohos, Google maps
I move off, but I only get as far as Mohos, another attack, I am forced to retreat and then go back. … By the afternoon the air activity has quietened down, it is true that there are only occasional vehicles on the highway and I decide to go back up, bring down all the bandages and petrol so that we have lighting, because the electricity had gone out days before, so unfortunately, we can’t use the radio.
The way up wasn’t very pleasant either, but I got everything fixed. In the barracks I met one man, Leon, who was at home as a telephone operator. He had aged at least 10 years in 2 days – company commander and guards are nowhere. I gave Leon 2 blankets at least to keep him warm and recommended him to go to the shelter, where I was soon forced to follow him as a terrible cannon thunder began.
Red Army units in action, Source: Origo
The pre-dinner duel between the German long barrels and the Russian batteries. In the shelter, 2-3 women prayed in Hungarian and German, while grenades flew overhead with wild whistling. Fortunately, nothing lasts forever, so this too was quietened… On the road, to complete my happiness, as I passed the cornfield, planes came, and I thought it better to lie low in the trenches… By the time I reached the middle of the lucerne, they were coming back, but it was already very dark and fortunately they were not firing … But I … when I heard the roar of the machines, I made a run in the wide-open country that would have done any champion credit, until I reached the big pit, where I recovered a little. I then pushed on at a strong pace to reach the Friedreichs’ cellar, where it is much safer after all, or so we think. When I got to them I am told I looked a bit shaken! … By nightfall we settled back in the post office room, but at 11 o’clock there was such a wild shoot-out that we hurried back to the cellar. By the time we got downstairs it was quiet, with only occasional shots from the enemy to signal their wakefulness …
Sunday, December 24
At 5 o’clock in the morning we are woken up by the news that the Russians are already in Vázsony. This news proved to be a fake, but we didn’t go to bed again and waited for what was to come. We saw Hungarian soldiers partly unarmed and un-equipped on the road beside the house going towards Zsámbék, then some German tanks passed by, and by half past eight there were no more Hungarian or German soldiers on the road or in the village.
A strange, frozen silence has replaced the constant noise of the previous days, there is little sound of cannon fire, the people of Vázsony say that the Germans had loaded up during the night, and had taken their long-barrelled guns and towed away their damaged tanks.
Considering that it is morning and I am hungry, it is also quiet, I advocate some food, but I see that the appetite of the cellar people is very weak and only Charap is with me … In the meantime, we are trying to put some order in the cellar, so that at least we can move around. The idiots are ejected, but they only give in to violence, despite the total silence. In the noise of battle, they are so afraid that they cannot be lured out.
Around half past ten the first Russian troops appear, but they only pass through and do not stay with us. More and more Russian troops are pouring in, some of them marching towards Zsámbék and some towards Németháza, but the village and the Friedriechs are getting some of them. In Friedriech’s apartment there are also 10 or so Russian soldiers, while in the post office building there are 4 officers … and they ask for lunch at 2 p.m., so we start to prepare it.
In between, more Russian soldiers come, eat what they can find, but they don’t hurt anybody. A Russian lieutenant likes my wristwatch, so I have to exchange it, I get a woman’s wristwatch instead, which doesn’t work … It seems that this exchange, which took place in the kitchen, was surprised by a Russian soldier who relieved me of my money and the wristwatch I had received. This is war!
Then a man runs barefoot out of the barn, his boots pulled off, and Charap is equally freed from his watch. Despite all the protestations that we are doctors and need the watch, nothing works. “Davaj, davaj” says the Russian, and it must be given to him.
They left around 3 p.m. Leaving a terrible mess behind them, they took nothing but food, and the cupboard doors, although open, were damaged by the visit. Then a detachment of Russian soldiers took Jancsi Freiberger’s medical bag from the post room…
The sound of battle is getting further and further away, and we are calmly picking up the things scattered around the flat, thank God, we have got over that too. The joy proved to be very premature, for by evening the German batteries in the distance began to fire on the village, and it was shot in and shot out. One shell hit the church tower, which caught fire and fell down the next morning when the wooden structure was burnt out. …
Monday, December 25
Christmas Monday, the first day of Christmas.
We almost completely forgot it was a holiday and only remembered it in the quieter hours of the morning. … after 10 o’clock the air activity started again and we received air raids to the south, this time for a change the Germans were machine gunning the village. I was bandaging a wounded Hungarian soldier in the house near the highway, … the poor fellow must have been dead since then – he had a nasty big gap wound on the left side and his right elbow was shot away too. We tried to keep to the corner of the room to avoid any trouble. … I started towards our safer-looking basement apartment. On the way, of course, there was another wave, and I ran into the cellar, flattening myself against the wall.
Meanwhile, the noise of fighting can be heard nearer or further away, but the arriving news is not very encouraging. The Germans are very close and we are trying to think what to do. …
We decide that as soon as the situation is clear, we will move on and leave the Friedreichs to their fate. So far, we have represented the family and we have negotiated with the Russians if necessary. By 3 p.m. there was a lull in the firing and no cannonading, but small arms fire could be heard in the immediate vicinity. The incoming news was that the Germans were back in Vázsony, Russians were hardly to be seen, and the Russians who had appeared here and there were all moving towards Bicske. The situation is very uncomfortable, we don’t want to fall into German hands again under any circumstances, so we have to go.
We take only a side bag, but the Russians at the mine office laugh at us for our concerns, … so we decide to go back for the rest of our belongings. Just in time, as a woman with a broken leg has been brought in, we put it in a splint and after another emotional goodbye, we set off. We head for Székesfehérvár. First stop Felcsút, where we intend to spend the night at the Tessényi’s. We set off well packed and tried to get over the railway embankment as quickly as possible, … in the meantime Freiberg’s Red Cross badge was torn off by a Russian, but no other trouble happened.
Near the oil depot we were joined by a young Russian soldier who took a great fancy to my boots and I was forced to part with them, but again in exchange. The only fault was that the boots I received were too tight and I could not walk in them. With great difficulty we got to nearby Felcsút, where a guard checked on us. While we waited there, I exchanged the tight boots for Jancsi Freiberger’s half-boots, which were slightly too large but wearable. After the exchange, the guard led us to the headquarters, where we left all our belongings and were driven off to roll petrol drums.
Óbarok – Felcsút – Alcsút, Google maps
When we were done, we were let go without further ado, told to move on. Of course, they did not give us any papers. On arriving in Felcsút, we found out that we could not sleep at Dr Tessényi’s because the Tessényi family were not at home and their flat and surgery had been completely looted. Since we couldn’t find a place to sleep in Felcsút, because there were so many Russian soldiers everywhere, we continued on to Alcsút, where we arrived in the dark. We had no special adventures on the way, except exchanging gloves with a Russian soldier, but at least here I got gloves that were usable, even if worse than mine. In Alcsút we managed to find accommodation with a retired printer who welcomed us and even protected us at night from the Russians who were trying to enter.
The end of the second part.
Don’t miss the third part, which will tell you that medical supplies, medicine and good shoes are a great treasure at the front. Who cares about dry gunpowder!
The misadventures of a Medical Doctor from Győr in the final days of World War 2
The document, entitled ” Dad’s Diary “, was preserved by Hugi Bakonyi (real name Irén), the daughter of Dr. Bakonyi of Győr, who died recently. It came to me through Hugi’s daughter and friends. I subsequently discovered that the description had previously appeared on the World Wide Web under the care of Archivnet.
I publish the diary on our website in six parts, with only minor omissions, each marked with three dots. I do not change the text, except to correct minor punctuation errors and to break paragraphs and longer sentences for ease of reading.
The diary begins on 19 March 1945 in Penc, exactly one year after the German invasion. It was there that Dr Bakonyi decided to write his notes in a diary. This is made clear in the entry of 8 March 1945, towards the end of the diary. The whole story begins on 12 December 1944 (the date of his wife’s last visit). There is some inconsistency in the dating here and there, but it is really not disturbing.
The photographs shown here are not part of the diary, but are for illustrative purposes only. The Google maps presented in today’s format may help a little with geographic orientation.
While editing the diary on our website, I think of my father, Károly Krausz (1903-1983), who, like Dr Bakonyi, tried to break away from his company of forced labourers (muszosok) in the final days of the war, but unlike Dr. Bakonyi, unfortunately, he did not go in the right direction, fell into the hands of ill-willed Russian soldiers and ended up in a prisoner of war camp in Russia. After many long months only, his journey led him back to Győr, where he had ‘no home any more’.
Péter Krausz
So, the diary:
The first page of the diary, Source: archivnet.hu
“I write these lines, in which I record the story of my wanderings, with the purpose of recalling things years hence, so that my dear Wife, who is far from me, may, if fate would have it, be informed of my progress while the diary lasts. I therefore ask anyone who may have the diary in their hands to send it to my Wife at the following address: Irén Kőműves, Győr, Erzsébet liget u. 16.A.
Postcard from the labour camp, Source: HDKE
Penc, 19 March 1945
For a long time now, I have been thinking of putting down on paper the events that have happened to me since 12 December 1944, when my wife left Óbarok. Since that time, I have received no sign of her, I hope she has returned home safely. …
The situation is becoming more and more tense, distant flashes are seen in the evenings, the people of the neighbourhood are aware that some villages have already come under Russian authority. During the day, there is almost a constant air raid, but fortunately our barracks camp is not bombed, the company is assigned to road repairs.
… every day I go down to Óbarok and try to learn something new and positive. We three doctors decided that under no circumstances would we go any further, but that if our companies were ordered to move, we would quietly fall behind. In the meantime, events are developing rapidly, a lieutenant and his entourage are moving into our infirmary room, in charge of road repair work, and they are beginning to wagon the more valuable mechanical parts of the mine. … according to leaked reports, the German lieutenant, in view of the threatening proximity of the front, has been constantly urging the departure of the companies in the direction of Komárom since the 18th.
This is, of course, impossible, because on the one hand the roads are taken by the retreating units, and on the other hand our men are so poorly dressed that about ¼ of them are permanently in barracks and do not even go out to work. The roads are under constant attack by Russian planes and, I notice, the company commanders do not want to depart either. The roads are constantly being flooded by German troops, especially supply columns and mechanised units, with many tanks, some of them damaged. A good one pulls 2 or 3 bad ones.
Muszosok at rest, Surce: HDKE
Meanwhile, along the road to Óbarok, 4 German twin anti-aircraft guns had nestled in the fields and were firing at the passing Russian planes, which of course returned fire and now the machine-gunning was almost constant in our immediate vicinity and the shelling could be heard closer and closer.
On the 19th the squadron is no longer going out to repair the roads, because the workplace 6 km away from us is already under heavy threat, the Russians are in the immediate vicinity. The men are permanently in the mine shelters, they don’t even come home to eat properly.
I am normally in the nearby shelter, but we don’t get attacked. In the meantime, I go down to the post office every day and I think it happened on the 18th that I was in the middle of the lucerne when 2 Russian planes came and I came under machine gun fire. I vowed that in future I would cross that part of the field on the run.
The same planes dropped some bombs along the road through Újbarok, with no loss of life. The German Oberleutnant is increasingly urging us to leave and will accept no excuses, but it is impossible to leave for the reasons mentioned above, and it is also impossible to assemble the company, because they are hiding in fear of air raids, and they do not sleep at home at night, but hide in shelters and cellars.
… I slept at home until 20 December, but it was very uncomfortable, my things were falling off the shelf above the sink from the constant shaking, and so I decided to move in with the boys. On Thursday, I completely repacked and brought my belongings and instalments to Óbarok, where we stored them in the Friedreichs’ basement. … the kitchen was no longer working, as our cooks had also seen fit to seek a safer place, in view of the constant air activity. …
On the way to Óbarok, I was stopped twice by the camp gendarmes, but fortunately they did not ask for any writing and were satisfied with my saying that I was a doctor and going to a safer place. On Thursday night I slept at Freiberger and Charap’s, but the situation there was as threatening as at my place and we decided to follow the example of the Friedreichs and spend the time in the cellar. On Friday morning I went up to the company, but there I found complete confusion… Boriska was cooking something in the officers’ kitchen, I said goodbye to her too – I haven’t seen her since, and after picking up a few more odds and ends I went down to Óbarok.
Muszosok and Hungarian Watchdogs, Source: honvedelem.hu
We’ve been in the cellar almost all day, there’s an endless stream of people retreating down the highway, sometimes planes come and we don’t know what kind, but it’s good to take shelter because they can let go a few machine gun rounds very easily. The farm is also full of German and Hungarian cars, not a very pleasant proximity. The Russian planes are being fired at a great deal but to no effect, meanwhile German long-barrel cannons seem to have been set up around Vázsony puszta and are firing from there in the direction of Felcsút, from where the Russians return fire, the in and out shots are very similar and we are left to guess what the banging was all about.
Our cellar is not very safe, but it is better than nothing, the overcrowding is enormous. …
Óbarok, Vázsony puszta, Google maps
The meals are completely rhapsodic, the lunch is of course interrupted by a plane attack on the highway … The German tanks are firing heavily, one tank has positioned itself between the 2 houses and is firing from there, so at close range. The Russian pilot returns again, and he does not regret the shelling, which has an effect, because the windows of the servants’ house are all smashed.
SS in Transdanubia, Source: vilaghaborufegyverei.blog.hu
Another tank is parked in front of the church, but its operator seems to have had enough of the war, because he doesn’t fire a single shot and leaves on Friday. Also gone were the twin machine guns set up on the lucernes, … which we were very glad about because they were a constant nuisance. By nightfall, it had quietened down a bit, so Charap, Freiberger and I decided to sleep in the post office room, where we could feel comfortable and at least stretch out. …”
The end of the first part.
Don’t miss the second part, which will tell you that running is a shame but useful, and that the Russians are coming.
The True Story of a Hungarian Jewish Man’s Fight for Freedom
A book by Robert J Wolf MD
Featured image: The cover page of the book to be launched on 12 October 2022, Amazon, (549 pages)
Introduction
Robert J Wolf is the author of a biography about his father’s amazing story of living as a Jewish man in Hungary when the Nazis, and later the communists, seized power. Growing up in affluence, Győr, Hungary, young Ervin Wolf was forced into a labor camp, unaware that his parents were deported to Auschwitz where they were soon killed. In “Not a Real Enemy: The True Story of a Hungarian Jewish Man’s Fight for Freedom,” Ervin relies on his wits and good fortune to escape the Nazis not once, but twice. Once freed, however, he finds life under communism so unbearable he must make the most daring of all escapes in the dead of a winter’s night. “Not a Real Enemy” is the true story of one of the most unknown chapters in the Holocaust, following the transformation of a young man as he confronts antisemitism, cruelty, kindness, despair, and hope in his journey toward freedom.
Three excerpts from the book are reproduced here.
The cover page of the book to be launched on 12 October 2022, Amazon
Excerpt One
Their recruiting station was in Komárom, a town in Hungary bordering Slovakia and approximately 64 kilometers from Győr, the place of their departure. Ervin’s home. What would be expected of them when they reached Komárom was anybody’s guess. No one really knew the fate of the young Jewish men drafted into the Auxiliary Labor Service, one only knew that Jews were not permitted to join the German-allied Hungarian military. Instead, they were conscripted into forced labor and sent, unarmed and poorly equipped, to Ukraine and the most remote regions of Hungary, their parents left with no knowledge of what their children were enduring, other than the occasional letters that arrived, no doubt opened and reviewed by government agents.
These parents would do their best to read between the lines to guess at what their sons were really made to do, how they were really doing. They knew only that the work was hard, the conditions brutal, the boys hungry. They knew some labored in the harsh cold, cutting trees and carrying the heavy logs back and forth all day, all night. Some dug graves and buried bodies. So many bodies. Some were forced to cross the mine fields, human mine detectors. So far, none had returned home to tell what really happened.
Ervin, the only child of Dr. Joseph and Kamilla Wolf, had never known labor of any kind, much less hard labor. He had, if anything, been coddled by his parents, spoiled with every toy and sweet and privilege a child of wealth might enjoy. True, his father could be a stern disciplinarian and Ervin knew too well the whack of a stick or the sting of a belt for misbehaving or worse, for being late. But his father was neither cruel nor cold, and Ervin never doubted for a moment the love both his parents felt for him. If anything, he understood his father’s discipline was less a correction of Ervin than it was a correction of himself, for Joseph’s own childhood had been a punishing one, one he had devoted his life to undoing…
Excerpt Two
Joseph listened to the click of the door as his wife and son walked into the cold, desolate street for what he feared might be their last walk together. He shaved and dressed, carefully buttoning his collar and adjusting his silk tie, as he did every morning, before slipping on one of his tailored, monogrammed suits, now beginning to fray. Though he continued to see his patients, many could no longer pay and, as a Jew, his access to supplies was limited. But his mind was not on his dwindling resources this morning. All he could think about was the danger his son was heading toward, and the danger that was coming closer to their home with each new day.
Joseph had known few years without danger, and never took for granted the prosperous life he had established. Born in the city of Alba Julia, then the capital of the Eastern Hungarian Province in Transylvania, he had grown up the middle of six children from a well-to-do family in one of the region’s oldest Jewish settlements. Being Jewish at that time, and in that place, was a marker of belonging. Virtually every family he knew was Jewish, and to be Jewish was as respected in the Kingdom as to be Christian. He was as much a Jew as he was Hungarian, as he was a boy, which is to say, the normal state of things, unchanging, unremarkable….
Excerpt Three
“Identification!”
Ervin turned from the train’s window to see a tall young man in uniform, no older than himself, glaring at him, his hand outstretched for his identification papers. Ervin obediently presented them and, once satisfied that they had the right Jew on board, the man turned to the next young man seated on the train and repeated his demand.
It was a packed train and Ervin was thankful he’d even gotten a seat. It seemed as if everyone was shouting and shoving, and while the train itself moved slowly, it lurched and stopped so often and so abruptly on its journey that every few minutes the passengers were thrown back and forth like dominoes knocking the others down. Ervin felt nauseous from the jerky movement, but he was in no hurry to reach their destination. Once there, his life would change in ways he couldn’t imagine. Until then, he tried to lighten the mood by joking with his friends. They all felt that strange sensation of dread and delight. Dread at what was up ahead, delight at being together for the adventure.
Nearly two hours later, the morning light now bright, the train pulled into the station in Komárom.
Just as they’d been pushed and shoved into the train, they were pushed and shoved out of it, where Hungarian gendarmes were swarming. These were the csendőrség— easily identified by the large rooster feathers affixed to their bowler hats. Though reputed to be well trained enforcers of the law, they were as known for their cruelty as their skill.
Ervin’s heart raced, but the csendőrs merely handed them off to a few soldiers waiting to escort the young men to their destiny. It was in that instant that Ervin realized he had lost his humanity in the eyes of these uniformed soldiers. No longer was he even looked down upon as a Jew. He was, in that moment and into the unforeseeable future, an animal to be herded and put into service.
A jolt of terror shot through him as the realization hit him and he was flooded with fear. But he knew better than to let them see his fear, for if they did, he was certain they would maximize the terrifying effect they had on him. Instead, he stood taller, shoulders back (not an easy task, given the weight of his backpack that once again pulled on his spine), and chin high. He compelled his face to reveal nothing of his inner thoughts and emotions. If they were determined to view him as nothing, then his survival would depend upon maintaining that illusion. He would do nothing to attract their attention, while expressing only respect for those he least respected.
How much he’d aged in that short train ride, when just two hours before, he had been a boy walking with his mother…
Why this title of the book?
“Not a Real Enemy” is how the communist bureaucrats described Ervin in his dossier, in the office at his medical center, where he had the guts to have a look at his secret file the night before his final escape after the revolution.
Protagonists of the book
Ervin’s parents, Dr. Joseph and Kamilla Wolf, a couple from Győr, perished in Auschwitz at 50 years old, 1944, the grandparents that the author never met.
After working as a doctor on a military ship during WWI, he became a practicing and respected dentist until forbidden to practice, and ultimately taken away.
There is quite a bit about them and their hometown in the biography.
The author’s parents, Dr. Ervin and Judit Wolf were married January 15, 1953 in Budapest, Hungary. Her Uncle Laci Benedek, a surgeon and chief of the local hospital, was arrested following the nuptials, imprisoned, and tortured for 13 months by the Soviets for sponsoring an illegal Jewish marital ceremony. Laci emigrated to Sweden, where he was a successful surgeon!
Ervin and Judit (the author’s dad and mom) were frontliners during the Hungarian Revolution, 1956, as he assisted with the trauma surgery in addition to his responsibilities as an OB/GYN, and she ran the blood bank. They soon after escaped the country, ended up in the Detroit area in the USA, and he went on to deliver over 10,000 babies!
About the author
Robert Wolf, M.D., was born in Detroit and grew up in a nearby suburb as the only child of Ervin and Judit Wolf, Jewish immigrants from Hungary. He obtained a B.S. in Biology and Psychology from Tufts University in 1984, attended the University of Michigan Medical School until 1988, completed his residency at Brown University/Rhode Island Hospital, following up with a fellowship at Yale University in neuroradiology in 1994. He has authored and co-authored several published scientific papers. With 31 years of experience in Diagnostic Radiology, he is now semiretired. His parents’ adventurous life inspired Robert to document and share their stories.
Featured image: With yellow star on the Révfalu bridge (1)
Since our childhood, people of my generation (70+) in Győr have known the story of the fateful swap of trains between Auschwitz and Strasshof, or some of its fragments. Even among friends of my parents, survivors met who had travelled on the trains they considered later ‘lucky’ or ‘unlucky’ as in the story told here.
People forced into the ghetto on the “Double” Bridge (Kettős híd) over the Rába, (2)
Yet again, I was shocked by László Zöldi’s recent article on the net entitled “The walking pawns” (3).
I quote from it the excerpt that so seriously affects the Győr deportees:
“In May 1984, the Washington correspondent of Magyar Nemzet, János Avar and I visited Professor Braham in his New York office. The renowned Holocaust scholar made up the name Randolph L. Braham from his Transylvanian name, Adolf Ábrahám, in America. He spent an hour with us. We had been chatting for about half an hour when I mentioned a documentary film made in Hungary, in which the inhabitants of the Győr ghetto are escorted by gendarmes to the cattle cars. I saw smiling faces in the procession and was wondering what they were happy about.
Randolph L. Braham (1922-2018) (4)
The professor became agitated and apologised for leaving us alone, but he would look into something. He returned an hour later. I summarise the results of the interview in Élet és Irodalom (a Hungarian weekly called Life and Literature) of 15 June 1984. Professor Braham linked the Győr waggon loading scene to the so-called Joel Brand action. He as one of the leaders of Hungarian Jewry visited SS-Obersturmbannführer Eichmann, who supervised the deportations from Budapest with a small unit and offered him 12,000 lorries for the life of the Hungarian Jews.
The German lieutenant-colonel took note of the unusual offer, and while Brand was trying to persuade the anti-Nazi Allied powers to make the exchange, he “blockaded” 30,000 Jews. The nearest ghetto to the Austrian province of the German Reich (where agricultural labour was needed – editor’s note) was the Győr ghetto. So ‘the walking pawns’ from here were meant to go to work in agriculture. The crowded train set off northwards in the direction of Érsekújvár, then turned eastwards instead of westwards. The train commander, SS-Scharführer (sergeant) Kassel, noticed the mistake and called his boss, who told him: `Once you’re there, take them on to Auschwitz, I’ll send other ones to Austria.’ (3)
Almost four decades have passed since the interview was published. Researchers have become more nuanced in their interpretation of the 1944 story, but the essence has hardly changed. As Professor Braham put it in 1984: ’It’s a tragic joke of fate that thousands of Jews from Szeged and Debrecen survived at the cost of the deaths of the Jews of Győr.’” (3)
So far, the quote.
News about the establishment of the Győr Ghetto in a local publication, May 1944, (5)
During our exchange of letters, László Zöldi authorised our website to republish his article, but also drew our attention to his last lines, which indicateed that researchers were lately divided on what had actually happened in 1944.
Looking at some of the sources, it seems to me that, despite the contradictions discovered, the story is true, or could very easily have been true, because in those terrible times anything and its contrary could happen, so fateful were the unpredictable, irrationally insane and evil decisions by murderers and oppressors of the time carrying in all circumstances very grave consequences.
Joel Brand (1906-1964) (6)
Of course, “from a more distant point of view”, considering the total number of victims, it „did not really count” in the tragedy of rural Jewry in Hungary as to deportees from a given gendarmerie district were sent to Auschwitz or to a “more lenient” concentration camp like Strasshof, while, of course, the train destination sealed individual fates.
Perhaps if some of the deportees from Győr had been sent to the Strasshof distribution camp in Austria, near Vienna to the north-east, they would have had a better chance of survival. But who knows: 21,000 Hungarian Jews were transported by Eichmann to Strasshof, often entire families. The ‘idyll’, however, did not last long. After the harvest of 1944, some of the slaves held here were sent to the notorious Bergen-Belsen, others to Mauthausen and Theresienstadt towards the end of the war. A total of 2,000 Hungarian Jews, i.e. 10 % of those deported, were liberated by the Red Army in Strasshof (7).
In the meeting with the Hungarian journalists, Professor Braham linked the Strasshof alternative to Joel Brand‘s action. Brand had indeed played a key role in the chaotic negotiations with Eichmann on the trucks-for-lives deal, and after Eichmann’s apparent approval, he tried unsuccessfully to convince the Allied representatives of this rescue operation. (6)
Braham, Randolph L.: The Politics of Genocide, cover page of the Hungarain edition (8)
Nevertheless, in his own work “The Politics of Genocide: the Holocaust in Hungary” (2nd expanded and revised edition – Budapest: Belvárosi Kvk., 1997), the Professor refers to the event, which he calls “‘Setting aside’ for Strasshof”, as a result of the negotiations between Eichmann and Rudolf Kasztner. It was in the framework of this agreement that some of the deportees from the Szeged district were transferred to Austria. Here we quote Professor Braham directly:
“Kasztner expected the first shipment of Jews to come from Győr and Komárom, areas where deportations of Jews were in full swing. Although this plan appears to have been approved by Eichmann, all transports from Gendarmerie District II and III, including of course those from Győr and Komárom, were routinely diverted to Auschwitz, probably due to the clumsiness of one of the SS-Scharführers in charge of the transports. The Scharführer in charge of the Győr transport only noticed that the train number was not in the register when the transport had already arrived at the Slovakian border; he called Eichmann and asked for instructions. Eichmann, who was more concerned with ‘completing the plan’ than with moral duty, apparently instructed the Scharführer that if the transport was already at the Slovakian border, it should go on to Auschwitz. He decided to ‘compensate’ Kasztner with a transport from another part of Hungary”. (10)
Same story, different names.
Rudolf Kasztner (1906-1957) during a radio broadcast in Israel (9)
Another twist: some researchers say the story is false, or even untrue, though in the upside-down world of 1944 it could have even been true.
Tímea Berkes, in her 1995 thesis (supervisor: László Karsai, a well-known historian), writes: “Braham adopts the story of the ‘train swap’ from Kasztner’s report; this is not tenable, since on the day of the agreement with the Germans the second deportation train had already left Győr.” (11)
So the train change never happened?
It did or it didn’t, as I said, it didn’t reduce the actual suffering, the number of victims and those subjected to persecution.
At this point, let me remind you of the Franco-Belgian-Dutch-Romanian film ‘The Life Train’, written and directed by Radu Mihaileanu from Romania.
Poster of the film “Life Train” (12)
“One night in 1941, Shlomo, the village fool, returns home with earth-shattering news: the Nazis are deporting all the Jews of the neighbouring villages to an unknown destination. Their village is next on the list. The council of elders, led by the rabbi, meets that evening to discuss how to save the community. After endless bickering, the best idea only pops out of Shlomo’s head at dawn: organise their own mock deportation. They pretend to be victims, train mechanics, Nazi officers and soldiers. The enthusiastic inhabitants tailor Nazi uniforms, buy a scrapped rusty locomotive, call their Swiss relative home to learn German from him, fabricate false documents and cobble together the train wagon by wagon. And one fine day, like Noah’s Ark, the train sets off with all the villagers on board.” (12)
And what is the end of the smile-inducing and yet terribly upsetting story told in the movie?
“… and there we see Shlomo in his striped cap and prison garb, standing behind barbed wire telling a story. How? What we have seen and heard of the miraculous rescue, could it be just a fairy tale?” (13)
In fact, to quote relevant words of János Arany, Hungarian poet of the 19th century, “no fairy tale is this, child”.
He was born in Tét near Győr on 11 July 1901 and died in Budapest on 7 October 1985. He was a mechanical engineer.
His butcher father died early, leaving his mother alone with their three children. At the age of ten, he was already working in the machine factory in Győr to supplement the family budget. It was then that he decided to become an engineer. However, because of the numerus clausus, he went to the technical university in Brno, where he studied in German. After his studies, he returned to Győr and made a name for himself in the 1930s as a designer of several excellent commercial vehicles. He was involved in the design of the Rába tractor under licence from Krupp and the Austro Super bus, which was of Fiat origin, and later helped to launch MAN diesel engine production.
The handover of Rába LHo buses destined for the capital in Győr, on Szent István út; Dunántúli Hírlap, 11 February 1928; Source: (1)
His most famous creation was the four-wheel drive off-road vehicle Botond, which proved to be more reliable than other German vehicles of similar function. It was powered by two rear axles, and thousands were produced in both right- and left-hand drive series.
Dezső Winkler, 1901-1985
He was lucky to be able to create something like that, because it made him indispensable. Imre Pattantyús-Ábrahám, director of the Rába wagon and machine factory in Győr, tried to save the factory’s technical intellectuals of Jewish origin, including many of his closest colleagues, after the German occupation.
Winkler and his wife as well as their infant son were already being herded into the wagons when the partial escape came. Dezső Winkler continued to work at the factory until February 1945, during which time he was deported by the Arrow Cross in 1944 to Sopronkőhida, where he escaped and was later arrested again. He managed to escape again in the vicinity of Munich.
The Botond all-terrain vehicle
Winkler designed the most successful Hungarian all-terrain vehicle ever built, the Botond, designed for the Royal Hungarian Army, which also took an active part in war action.
Dezső Winkler behind the wheel of Botond, Source: (3)
The three-axle off-roader had independent double wishbone suspension on all wheels, a pair of wheel-rollers mounted on the front bumper and a winch, and spare wheels with bearings on both sides to aid off-road driving.
Botond in action; Source: (2)
Dezső Winkler recalled the development: ‘I myself took part in the test drive of the prototypes. The car worked flawlessly in all respects… After the Berlin Motor Show, looking over my notes and sketches I had made so far, it seemed that the pending issues could be clarified. Thus, in order to increase traction power, a high ratio rear axle drive should be designed and the vehicle should be configured for a low unladen weight. And to increase off-road capabilities, it is necessary to maximise the deflection of the driven wheels with independent suspension and, if necessary, to provide a short-term rolling support for the front of the carriage or on the chassis between the axles. …”
His life after the war
After the war he played a major role in the re-launch of the Hungarian Wagon and Machine Works. He headed its automotive department until 1948, and then was in charge of the Central Vehicle Design Office of the Heavy Industry Centre (NIK) until 1950.
In 1951 he received the Kossuth Prize for the development of buses, trucks, tractors and engines. He became head of department at the Vehicle Development Institute (JÁFI), which he founded, and finally, before his retirement in 1968, director and CEO of the successor, the Automotive Research Institute (AUTÓKUT).
He represented the Hungarian automotive industry as a member of the respective UN Group of Experts.
The Byzantine myth of Botond in the Képes Krónika (1358); Source: (6)
So, who was Botond?
According to a Hungarian legend, Botond fell with Lehel in 955 at the battle of Augsburg against the German king Otto I. Another Hungarian legend, reminiscent of the biblical story of David, tells of Botond breaking down the gates of Byzantium with his mace and defeating the Greek giant with his bare hands in 958. The name of the military vehicle built in Győr certainly refers not to the loser, but to the victorious Botond.
Epilogue
On the initiative of Dezső Winkler’s son, István, a memorial plaque in honour of his father was placed on 14 September 2022 on the wall of the house at 26c Városmajor Street in Buda, where the family spent many happy years.
Soccer player Öcsi Puskás’ adventure with Professor Frigyes Riesz
Frigyes Riesz
Frigyes (Győr, 22 January 1880 – Budapest, 28 February 1956) Hungarian mathematician, university professor, member of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, brother of mathematician Marcell Riesz. The two sons were born to the Jewish doctor Ignác Riesz and Szidónia Nagel of Győr.
His key insight is that, by defining the operations of addition, multiplication by a number and scalar multiplication between functions in a suitable way, a wide class of functions behave in the same way as vectors. Recognising the importance of this idea, Riesz became, together with Maurice René Fréchet and Stefan Banach, the founder of functional analysis. Functional analysis is a comprehensive theory combining the methods of algebra, analysis and geometry. His best-known result is the Riesz-Fischer theorem, which is well known in real-valued functional theory.
He studied at the University of Zurich (1897-99), the University of Budapest (1899-1901) and the University of Göttingen (1901-02). He taught for a short time at a secondary school, then moved to the Franz Joseph University of Kolozsvár, which moved to Szeged in 1921 following the Treaty of Trianon. Riesz was head professor of the Mathematical Institute at the University of Szeged, and from 1929 to 1946 of the Bolyai Institute.
Frigyes Riesz in university regalia
János Neumann thought it would be good if the world-famous mathematical centre established in Szeged – Riesz, Alfréd Haar, Béla Kerékjártó – stayed together. There is no doubt that around 1930, Szeged was the place in the world where classical functional theory and functional analysis could be studied to the highest standards. It is no coincidence that Marshall Stone, professor at Harvard University and author of the first monograph on functional analysis, sent his colleague to Szeged to study.
Riesz also gave lectures on Functional Operations, followed by The Theory of Hilbert Spaces and Integral Equations. All these were combined into a book by the end of the 1940s, and a comprehensive textbook on functional analysis was born, with unprecedented success. Of particular importance is the journal Acta Scientiarum Mathematicarum, which he launched with Alfred Haar and which is still a world-class journal in mathematics.
When the Franz Joseph University moved back to Kolozsvár on 19 October 1940, Riesz did not go there because of his old age, but asked to be transferred to the newly founded Miklós Horthy University in Budapest and continued to head the Bolyai Institute. From 1946 until his death, he was head of department at the Budapest University of Sciences (then Pázmány Péter University, later Eötvös Loránd University as from 1950).
Even in the most difficult times, Frigyes Riesz received exceptional treatment for his outstanding scientific achievements and his high international profile. In November 1943, for example, he was granted a service passport, permission to leave the country and travel supplies for lectures in Geneva. Frigyes Riesz sewed on the humiliating yellow star, but always wore a top coat … He was forced to retire in July 1944, but in August 1944 (!) he regained his job together with several other professors of Jewish origin.
Marcell’s descendants living in Sweden were present at the unveiling of the brothers’ memorial plaque in Győr. They also visited the office of the Jewish community in Győr, where they looked up the brothers’ birth records in the register of births (according to the office).
Riesz’s life was filled with mathematics. Early spring 1954, Prague, the airport of the Czechoslovak capital. An elderly gentleman settles into one of the armchairs, two young men sit down near him. The older man is reading. In the meantime, because he hears Hungarian words, he turns to the young people with interest, wondering where they are going. We’re going to Amsterdam for a friendly match,” says one of them.
Puskás and Lóránt rejoice together
It soon becomes clear: all three are from Pest, there are no direct flights from there, so they fly on from Prague, the old man to Paris for a conference, the boys via Brussels to Amsterdam. The match will be there. “But what match?” asks the old gentleman. “Well, what else, soccer!” replies one of them, self-consciously, in a slightly raised voice, and adds, in case the uninformed questioner does not understand: football, that’ s all! Then he points to his partner: “This is Gyula Lóránt, the many times national team midfielder, you may have heard of him. And I am Puskás”.
Ferenc Puskás, the world-famous football player who did not know Frigyes Riesz
Frigyes Riesz, the world-famous mathematician who did not know Lajos Puskás
The elderly gentleman nods with a smile, introduces himself, ponders a bit, takes a puff on his pipe, and then comes another question for Puskás: “And you are a football player?”
(The story is told by János Varga, a mathematics teacher from Székesfehérvár.)
Riesz Marcell
Marcell (Győr, 16 November 1886 – Lund (Sweden), 4 September 1969), university professor, younger brother of Frigyes, also a mathematician.
Riesz Marcell professzor, Fejér Lipót tanítványa
He received his doctorate from Lipót Fejér at the University of Budapest. He moved to Sweden in 1911 and taught at Stockholm University from 1911 to 1925. From 1926 to 1952 he was professor at the University of Lund. After his retirement he spent 10 years at American universities. He returned to Lund in 1962 and died there in 1969.
He was elected a member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences in 1936.
Marcell Riesz worked on trigonometric series. He introduced the Riesz Function and, together with his brother, proved the theorem known since then as the Riesz Brothers’ Theorem. In the 1940s and 1950s Riesz worked on Clifford Algebras.
Gábor I. Kovács: The fate of Hungarian Jewish university professors and those of Jewish-origin before and during the Holocaust from 1930 to 1945 (article), 2015. Based on the Database of Hungarian university professors I. Jewish university professors and those of Jewish-origin – Historical Elite Research, Budapest, Publishing House Eötvös: 2012. p. 172
As I sit down to write a brief history of my family, I am horrified by the current daily news reports. It has been over 6 weeks since the Russians invaded Ukraine. The destruction and devastation is overwhelming! It brings back so many memories of the Hungarian uprising of 1956. I remember my seven-year-old self, looking out of our second story window on Aradi Vértanuk street in Győr, as the Russian tanks rolled by. My Mom shouting at me to get away from the window because the soldiers had guns.
Until the geopolitical events beginning in the late 1930s, my parents were proud of their Hungarian heritage. Their Jewish ancestry, as far as we can trace it, lived in the land of the Magyars for ages.
Mom, born Perl Zsuzsanna, in August 1921, was raised in Győrsövényháza. She came from a loving family consisting of her parents, two sisters and two brothers. Her father was an inn-keeper, butcher shop owner, and wheat farmer of 100 acres. He managed dozens of employees. Mom described having had a very happy childhood. Her parents were strict and had high expectations. Her family was one of only two Jewish families in their village. She attended Catholic primary school (the only school in the village) where she liked to tell us she was a top student in Catechism. Mom’s parents had to hire a Hebrew teacher from a nearby town to teach her and her siblings to read Hebrew and learn the prayers and Bible stories. Likewise, the family had to walk to another nearby village to attend High Holiday services and other religious affairs.
Mom (r) with siblings, Miklós, Gyöngyi and Sári (their half-sister), around 1926-27
Mom and her siblings had to travel even farther, to Győr, to obtain a higher education. This was an expensive project made more-so because they had to take a carriage and then a train daily. The value of education was drilled into the Perl children. But by the time Mom graduated from business college at age 19, she, (like the other 5 Jewish girls in her class) couldn’t find work. She eventually lucked out and was able to work in a laboratory and support herself in Budapest.
When the Nazis invaded Hungary in 1944, Jews were compelled to wear the bright yellow star on their clothing to identify them, harass them, spit on them and loot their businesses. Within months, my mother’s family was rounded up and taken to concentration camps. Mom and her younger sister, Gyöngyi, were rounded up in Budapest and initially marched in near freezing temperatures to Lichtenwörth camp in Austria. They were held there for six miserable months. Mom described the conditions, the inhumanity, the hunger, the cruelty of those months. She also shared that they encountered some kindhearted folks from nearby villages who sneaked bits of food to the captives when they were able.
With luck, determination and spirit, Mom was able survive the Holocaust. The rest of her family was not so fortunate. She, her sister Gyöngyi and her brother, Miklós were the only ones in her family to survive. Both of her parents, her older sister and younger brother-were murdered in the gas chambers in Auschwitz, along with numerous aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. Incidentally, Mom’s Mom was taken to her death on her 46th birthday.
Liberation came to Lichtenwörth on April 2, 1944, Easter Sunday. Russians arrived at the camp with truckloads of bread and canned food. The people cheered and hugged and kissed the soldiers. The soldiers were repulsed by the starving filthy masses. Once fortified, they eventually returned to their childhood home and joyfully reunited with the other family members who survived. Their joy was tempered by their sorrow upon learning how the others had perished.
Little by little they began to rebuild their lives. Mom and her sister eventually rented a small apartment and found jobs in Győr. Some of the belongings of the Perl home were saved for them by friends after their deportation. Among the items were a watch that had become rusty in its moist hiding place. Mom asked around if anyone knew of a Jewish watchmaker who might be able to repair the watch. This is where my personal history begins.
Mom took her watch to be repaired by Egri Jenő, also a Holocaust survivor. At that time, money was scarce, so he asked for a home cooked meal as payment for the repair. He was lonely and started visiting Mom and her sister quite frequently. Their ease with each other resulted in a very short courtship and culminated in a proposal of marriage. At a Christmas gathering with Mom’s brother (who married his high school sweetheart and converted to Catholicism) Jenő (my father to be) reached into his pocket and held forth five wedding bands. “Pick one” he said to Mom, and the rest is history. On December 31, 1945, they wed under a Huppah officiated by a local Rabbi in a simple ceremony attended by very few family members and friends.
Mom and Pop in 1946
My father’s history, of which I know a lot less than Mom’s’, is in some ways even more tragic.
Born in Győr on September 2, 1908, “Pop”, as I used to call him, learned the trade of watchmaking because Jewish boys were prohibited from entering many professions. His father, a furniture craftsman, was the only family member who died a natural death of a heart attack, at the age of 57. The rest of his family—his Mother and his only sister, perished in the concentration camps.
Pop’s (2nd from r.) parents and sister
Mom was my father’s second wife. He had been married before and they had two little girls named Eva and Marika. Together with their mother, all three were victims of the gas chambers. When most of the Jews of Hungary were deported to various concentration camps, my future father was sent to Labor camps.
Pop’s little daughters, Éva and Marika, murdered in Auschwitz
He rarely talked about those times. I can think of no greater horror than to lose one’s entire family so tragically. The ‘conventional wisdom’ at that time was not to talk about painful parts of their lives; that talking about it would only make it worse. Now we know just the opposite is true. By nature, my Pop was very congenial. As a young man, he traveled all over Europe with friends on his motor bike. He was an avid reader, liked to sing and to play cards. He was a hard worker.
After the Russians liberated Hungary at the end of the war, they sent their proxies to occupy seats of government. They urged the Hungarians to join the Party. Shortly after my parents were married, they moved into a lovely large condominium above my dad’s watch store. My father was thought by the Communists to be a wealthy man who hid jewels and gold prior to the war. Since private wealth was not permitted, the Communist Police began to harass them. They banged on our door at all hours of the day and night, searching every inch of our home for their imagined loot.
Other than the political situation, Mom described pleasant social life filled with friends, strolls in parks, birthday celebrations. We lived relatively comfortably for 11 years, but my parents did not want to raise their children under that regime.
By ‘their children’, I mean my brother and me. Misi, who later became Michael, had been born in September 1947, and I arrived 15 months later. I am named Eva, after my father’s first daughter. Mike and I were very much loved, and raised with all the opportunities available.
The only thing my parents lacked was their freedom. When the Hungarian patriots revolted against the Soviets in October 1956, after careful consideration my parents decided to flee. They said goodbye to some friends and relatives, and joined another Jewish family in a rented truck and headed toward the Austrian border. That was on November 10, 1956. When the truck was allowed to go no further, together with the other family, we had to cross the border on foot—in muddy terrain, pocked with holes from excavated landmines. Exhausted, with only two pieces of luggage, having left everything else behind, we crossed into Austria. What a relief!
We were welcomed by local villagers who helped us get to the first refugee camps, where my parents joined others and tried to figure out what to do next. They knew what they were leaving but not where they were going. We eventually got to Vienna, where my father completed applications to go to Australia. As luck would have it, we met an American lady who was Hungarian by birth. The conversation my parents had with her altered their vision and their plans. The following day, my Father obtained the necessary forms to go to America!
A few days later, we were aboard the second military airplane chartered by then president Eisenhower, bound for the United States and were among the first 5,000 refugees who arrived with a permanent permit of residency. What amazing luck!
Newspaper cuts, 1956 and later
When we touched down in San Francisco on December 5, 1956, we were the first Hungarian refugees to arrive there. I still recall the amazing reception we received there—newspaper reporters, photographers, radio interviewers. Through an interpreter, our parents told the press how grateful we were to come to this land and my father, showing off his three newly learned English words pronounced “God Bless America” to their applause.
For a while we were front-page news. Thanks to the publicity, both parents found jobs, and an apartment was found for us. Mom was able to work in a children’s clothing factory and Pop was employed (temporarily) by a reputable watch and jewelry company. Michael and I were enrolled in grammar school, and treated like celebrities (mostly). We learned English quickly, and totally lost our accents. Our parents attended night school. Their progress was slower, but they could get by with Mom’s fluency in German. My parents also changed their surname from Engel to Angel, per a friend’s recommendation—more American. After a while, they bought their first car: a 1948 Packard for $50.00 (!). With the help of social workers, they were introduced to other Hungarians who had come to San Francisco years before.
After a couple of years, when Pop was laid off from his job, we moved to Los Angeles. They got new jobs and once again they developed friendships and a new community. We became American citizens in 1962. They worked hard, saving as much as they could so Mom was able to fly to Israel to see her sister for the first time after 14 years of separation.
The job in Los Angeles was a heavy burden for our father. He had to travel to downtown daily. He had heart problems. Then, he saw an ad in a trade newsletter for a Jewelry store for sale in Ontario CA. A suburban town with a population of 50 thousand, offered an opportunity for our family to lead a more relaxed lifestyle. Our parents were able to purchase the store and adjacent home. Michael and I went to High School in Ontario. We all made new friends, but kept the old. We were thriving. Life was good.
Michael and I both went to Universities (UCLA). He got a Law degree and I obtained a Master of Social Work degree. Our parents were proud, they achieved a lot in a short time.
Mom and Pop dancing their 25th wedding anniversary, 1974
Michael and I both married and each have two children, now adults and parents themselves. I worked as a medical social worker most of my adult life, but only part time when my girls were young. I retired when I was 65 years old. My daughters, now 44 and 46 years old, were wonderful children and are wonderful adults and parents. Parenting them has been my greatest joy.
Now at age 75, Michael still enjoys working. In his spare time, he rides his horses. He claims that his love of horses and riding began in his early childhood years when we spent summers in our uncle’s ‘falu’ (village) Sövényháza.
My brother, Misi, the “cowboy”, around 2010
Sadly, my father died of a heart attack in 1976 at the age of 67. I have no doubt that his life experiences contributed to his early demise. He was able to be a part of both Mike’s and my weddings, but he died just 6 weeks before his first grandchildren were born. It saddens me to this day that he missed out on that joy!
A friend of mine introduced me to my would-be husband, a doctor from Argentina. After we married in Los Angeles, we moved to Laguna Hills CA, and lived in a lovely community called Nellie Gail Ranch—where we raised our daughters, Nicole (1976) and Danielle (1978). Mom moved from Ontario to a retirement community called Casta del Sol in Mission Viejo, a town just a few miles from ours. Recently widowed, Mom was a major part of our lives as our family grew. We had an active family life which included membership in our large Reform Jewish Congregation. Both daughters went on to get their Master’s degrees, both in the San Francisco Bay area.
Mom and grandchildren, around 1990
Mom was always a very important part of our family! As a widow, she made new friends and traveled extensively, often visiting friends and relatives in all corners of the world, including Győr. She loved to cook and entertain. She had a fantastic relationship with our children and they admired her, respected her and loved her very much! At the age of 74, Mom joined our father in death in 1995. She is missed every single day. We have our precious memories and that is a blessing!
Mom’s last birthday with Michael and me, 1995
My daughters are both married and each of them have blessed me with two wonderful grandchildren. Now I am able to have a close relationship with my 4 grands, just as my Mom had with hers…
Zoe’s (my eldest granddaughter) Bat Mitzvah, August 2021
My Grandfather “Sándor” or “Sanyi” moved to the west-Hungarian town of Győr at the end of the XIXth century – he was the son of Jacob and Julia – and I do not know whether he moved straight from Burgenland or some other intermediate place. He married a Caroline Unger “Lina” and eventually built or occupied the house at 8 Batthyányi tér (square) in Győr. They had over ten children in the following order approximately:
Mihály (Max), Charlotte (Sari), Armin, Emil, Imre (Emery), Eugen (Jenő), Flóra, Margit, Jolán, Laci, Feri.
Possibly, I am missing some and I think there were some who died young.
Uncle Mihály
They all grew up in the family house in Győr – the same place where I spent many summers as a youngster up to the outbreak of the War when I was about 14. It was an old, old house probably built for a landowner before the city of Győr expanded to that spot – it was one story high and dissected in the middle by a tunnel-looking big entrance way through which in old times you could drive a wagon through. It was more like a “country house”. After you walked through this coach entrance you arrived at a yard and saw that there was a terrace and another smaller entrance to the left where our family lived – while on the other side of the yard the house had a wing rented to tenants.
The family house
At the back of the yard there was a huge formal garden, about two acres in size, with lovely flowerbeds, walks and a stone paved sitting area under an old chestnut tree. There were several chestnut trees in the garden.
In the garden: me,my Father Laci, Uncle Imre, Uncle Emil, Cousin Pali Varga and sitting Aunt Margit
As you entered the house you were immediately aware of the importance of food and cooking in this place as the largest single room right behind the entrance terrace was a huge kitchen from where at all times great aroma of meals in the making emerged. There was always great stuff to nibble on usually laid out on a large wooden table. The kitchen was presided over by the peasant-cook-maid Erzsike – she had been with the family since times immemorial and always appeared to me as another of my many aunts who ran the house.
By the time I arrived at the Győr scene the house was occupied by my father’s favourite older brother: Imre or Emery – a very distinguished looking, quiet nice man, a lawyer and local community leader. He was the vice-president of the Jewish Community in Győr. Aunts Jolán and Margit lived there too, Jolán was a widow and Margit never married. They spoiled me to death, while Uncle Emery would try to instil in me some of his convictions many of which he picked up in schools ran by the “Bencés” (Benedictines), a Catholic order. It did not have anything to do with Christianity – it was more universal about the need of controlling one’s body to let the spirit rule … and he looked at sports as a spiritual exercise to show the body who is the boss… Uncle Imre was an avid rower and we belonged to the local Rowing Club on the Little Danube that is flowing through the city. Győr, an old industrial town was criss-crossed by rivers, the Little Danube, Rába and Rábca, so water sports were on everybody’s mind.
Uncle Imre
My summers at Győr were great and I looked forward to going there on the train by myself as I was growing to be a bigger boy – it took less than two hours on the fast electric trains. This must have been the beginning of my fascination with trains, locomotives in particular and I remember writing something of a thesis on electric locomotives at a much later time. When in Győr, I usually slept in Uncle Emery’s room, in an old bed with huge soft eiderdowns. It was very cosy…
Let me show you an excerpt of my family tree:
Excerpt of my family tree
Finally, let me remember my Cousin Vica and his little son, Péterke, both killed in Auschwitz:
I was born in the wrong year, 1942, and in the wrong place, Budapest. But by a miracle of luck, we survived the war years, I was released from the Great Ghetto in Pest with my mother and grandfather, and my father survived in Mauthausen.
In the fifties, all I knew about Győr was that an aunt of mine lived there, at 18 Arany János Street, whom we called “Mariska of Győr”. We visited the Éliás family at least once a year: Mariska, her tailor husband and their little boys. I knew nothing more about the Győr relatives. In 1955, they had their daughter was born, and in November 1956 they left the country, stopping in Melbourne, Australia, only, where they could make a good living as tailors. Our relationship was severed.
There was also a rumour in the family that an uncle of mine, surnamed Feit, was involved in the founding of the Győr synagogue, and his name is on a plaque there.
I must have been 65 when, by chance, I found a cousin of mine in Melbourne, who was born there, on the internet. There was a renewed connection with the branch of the family there.
In the meantime, I learned more and more about my family through Jewish search portals on the Internet, even finding a few documents. By that time, I really regretted that as a small child I had not asked my grandparents to tell me at least a little about their parents and grandparents.
To my surprise, I learned that one branch of my family came from the Győr-Nyitra-Komárom triangle, i.e. from the Jewish population there. Many of them settled and lived in the Sziget district of Győr. Sziget was just an intermediary station towards Budapest and, unfortunately, later also towards the concentration camps.
My great-grandfather Jakab Feit was a master shoemaker. According to the documents found, he lived at 4, later 11 Híd Street in Győr, later on at Országút and at Vásártér Street. His wife, Száli (Fáni) Kuttner, gave birth to five children (including my maternal grandmother at 4 Híd utca), one of whom died at the age of three months.
At the age of 31, on 2 July 1886, at 7 o’clock in the morning, Fáni drowned in the Rába river. A strange death – I don’t know if she didn’t knowingly try to escape his difficult fate. She left behind her husband and four children, including a one-year-old girl. The master shoemaker immediately remarried, marrying a young girl from the König family, whom he also called Fáni for simplicity’s sake. The second Fáni gave her husband four more children, while one of the girls died of measles at the age of two.
Cousin marriages were common in the extended family. Therefore, my maternal grandfather and grandmother were related to each other, and other relatives married also within the family. They all lived in the same block, preferably in Győr and later in Budapest.
Part of the family moved to Budapest, but some of the girls stayed in Győr because they got married there. One husband was Lajos Láng. A similar thing happened to him as to my great-grandfather. His first wife, Rózsa Reich, had three children, Maria, Sándor and Irén, and then she died young. Lajos quickly remarried, marrying an aunt of mine, Maria Feit. She and her son József were deported to Auschwitz, where they died in 1944.
The three children of the previous wife, Rózsa, survived the war, although one of them, Mária Láng, was sent to the Buchenwald camp. She survived. After liberation she married Miklós Éliás, a master tailor, and they lived in Győr until 1956. She was the “Mariska of Győr” whom I visited as a child. She died in 2010 surrounded by her loving family in Australia. The other two children were in hiding. One of them, Sándor Láng, eventually died in Canada, the other, Irén Láng, still lives in Melbourne, aged over 90.
The third child, Erzsébet married Sándor Keitner; they moved to Újpest, and from there they were sent to Auschwitz, with their children, on their final journey. The fourth, my aunt Sarolta, married Nándor Friedenstein in Győr, but the young husband was killed in the First World War, and then the widow and her daughter moved to Pest. This little girl, Stefi, born in Győr, was taken from the same ghetto apartment in Dob Street, Budapest, to Dachau, where our family was also housed. She came back safely.
Károly Spitzer was born on 29 September 1882 in the village of Szabadi, near Győr, to Illés Spitzer and Róza Neufeld. The large family moved to Révfalu at the turn of the 20th century. (At that time Révfalu was still an independent village, annexed to Győr in 1905.) They bought a house in the Erzsébet királyné street, today’s Ady Endre street, where they ran a pub.
Károly Spitzer chose another trade and opened a butcher’s shop at 4 Czuczor Gergely u. in Győr.
In 1910 he married Vilma Kellner, born in Ács. Vilma was half an orphan at the time, her father, Hermann Kellner, a master tailor, died prematurely. Her mother, Hermann Kellner, née Antónia Berger, lived a long widowhood until her death in Auschwitz.
Károly Spitzer bought his own house, also in Révfalu, in Báthory Street. They had two children, Ferenc in 1911 and Olga in 1913. They lived the life of an honest, hard-working merchant-industrial family. They prospered financially, employed a helper in the shop, and had a servant in the household. On weekdays, they worked hard in the shop, and on Sundays, as was the custom of the time, Károly went to the café, where he discussed business and the world with his friends.
They had their children educated, Ferenc at the Miklós Révai Grammar School, and Olga at the Count Albert Apponyi (now Ferenc Kazinczy) Girls’ Grammar School. Ferenc was not admitted to the Technical University, where he wanted to study architecture, because of the numerus clausus. So he studied at the textile college in Brünn (now Brno in the Czech Republic). On his return home, he was unable to find a job in the textile industry, so he learned the trade of a butcher alongside his father.
In 1933, Olga married Lajos Kohn, born in Bezi, who was engaged in cattle trade. He sold the cattle in Vienna and Italy. He was a good citizen. They had two sons, Lacika (1934) and Ferike (1938).
In 1942, Ferenc Spitzer married Lilla Lovas, who was born in Bátorkeszi in the Felvidék. His father was Sándor Lovas (Lőwinger) from Galanta. His mother, Sarolta Wetzler from Komarno. His maternal grandfather, Mór Wetzler, was a wine merchant in Komarno.
Lilla Lovas and her mother were expelled from Bratislava by the Slovak authorities because of Slovak Jewish laws. So in 1939, they came to Győr, where they were declared stateless. Lilla did not get a work permit, but fortunately, thanks to her language skills, she was able to work as a governess for the family of the then master tailor Nándor Lőwi, who was working on Baross út. After her marriage, her husband was called up for forced labour service. The young married couple kept in touch through frequent correspondence. In these letters, Lilla gave a detailed account of the increasingly difficult daily life for the Jews. Ferenc managed to preserve the letters, which are now considered historic documents.
The family, along with their relatives near and far, were forced into a ghetto in 1944 and deported to Auschwitz. Lajos Kohn, a forced labourer, froze to death in the Don Bend.
Ferenc Spitzer was liberated in Mauthausen. First, Lilla was held prisoner for six weeks in Auschwitz, then for ten months in Lippstadt, where she worked as a slave in a war factory, twelve hours a day, on a grinding machine, without protective goggles. He was freed by American soldiers on 1 April 1945 and moved to a place called Kaunitz.
Of the narrow family, only Lilla and Ferenc survived the Holocaust, the others fell all victims of Nazi madness.
Life after World War II
Miraculously, my later parents, Lilla Lovas and Ferenc Spitzer, having lost parents and siblings, in failing health but surviving the horrors, tried to start life together again. The family house in Báthory Street survived, where a foreign family had moved in. My father managed to get the house back, so at least they had somewhere to live. Yes, many people of return did not have that.
My father tried to continue the independent animal trade business, but he was not allowed to do so for long. After that he had several jobs. He remained true to his social democratic political principles and refused to join the communist party. According to him, when he entered the recruitment centre, he was greeted by former Arrow Cross members, so he thanked them for the invitation but did not seek membership. He could therefore not expect any promotion. Until his retirement, he remained a junior officer on a modest salary.
For seventy-five years, at the bottom of the cupboard, lay notebooks and a letter, the last memories of our father’s first family, the innocent and senselessly destroyed, sweet little girl Veronka and her equally sweet little sister Mártika and their mother Natalka.
In 1944, human evil and hatred destroyed the Hungarian Jewish community in our home town Győr, which had raised with loving care, honest, educated, hard-working and successful generations, whose members considered Hungary their homeland. Between the First and the Second World War, however, they were gradually marginalised in the most despicable way and eventually even deprived of their bare lives.
Our father, having survived the loss of his daughters and wife, returned home from labour service and a Russian camp of prisoners of war and, after a few years, remarried. We were born into his second family, so his first children, Veronka and Mártika, who were killed in Auschwitz, became our older siblings. What a dramatic twist.
The cover page of the sketchbook of the 2nd grade, 1942
The three miraculously preserved family documents, following their print publication, is made public also in this way to preserve the memory of our murdered sisters.
Flower garden, 1942
My room, 1942
Eight-year-old Veronka’s sketchbook faithfully reflects the high quality of education and upbringing in the Israelite People’s School of the time and confirms the statements made in the school’s 1942-43 yearbook.
Mom, Natal, 1942
It’s me, Veronka, 1942
My little sister, Márti, 1942
The yearbook is not only a simple annual report, but also a summary monograph on the local patriotism of the Jewish community of Győr, the history, functioning and significance of the school.
The yearbook, 1943
The book also tells about the teachers, the prestigious school board consisting of notables of the Jewish community, and the geographical and natural features of the city of Győr. However, in the lines of the headmaster’s report, the ominous shadows of an impending tragedy are already looming.
Veronka (no. 15) among the best, 1943
Natalka’s last letter, sent to her husband, our future father, the day before she was forced into the Győr ghetto with Veronka, Mártika and five thousand of their fellow citizens of Győr, already indicates the imminent arrival of the deadly threat. The letter radiates endless loyalty, love and still hope, but in vain.
Natalka’s last letter to her labour camp conscript husband Berci (later our father), 28 May 1944
Transcript of the letter:
Sunday, 28 May 1944
My dear Berci!
I was going to write an exhaustive letter today, but fate has arranged it differently.
We had a terrible awakening this morning, there will be a ghetto in Győr too. We must go to Sziget. For the time being, there is no decree that the Christians there must move out, only existing Jewish flats (which are already fully taken under previous regulations) can be occupied or exchanged for Christian ones. Few people are willing to exchange because everyone insists on staying in their old dwellings. I rushed out to the Horváths at 7 o’clock, fixed an arranged transfer of the apartment whereby they would get Kato Opitz’s apartment with a nice street view. You can imagine how happy I was. Then the woman appears in the afternoon and says that they won’t change because they are afraid of being bombed. In the meantime, I ran to the Elemérs, where I found out that the Horváth family would get Elemér’s flat and that the Horváths’ flat would be taken by the Mérős, Böhms and Rózsi Krausz. I have a feeling that something happened behind my back. Sári came to us in a rush to say that she would do what she can for me to get an apartment.
Is everyone selfish and ruthless now, or is this the right thing to do? I have to move out by 8pm on May 31st, until then the good Lord will just help us find a place to live. Margit’s family is going to Zoli, Aranka to Ilonka, Mama and …. to the old Bakonyi’s, while Böske has no place yet, he may go to Ilonka as a last resort.
My dear Berci, it hurts me so much to write this and to cause you pain, but is it possible to hide it?
I waited until this afternoon to write something more positive, but perhaps I will have better news tomorrow.
I’m in a hurry, because I mustn’t go out after 8 o’clock.
My darling Berci, pray for us. I promise to be strong; I am fighting in the strong faith that one day I will be with my dear husband and our two sweet little girls.
God bless you! (?)
With warm love, hugs and kisses from your faithful wife,
Natal
They leave Győr in cattle wagons for their final journey. Among those deported is also our future mother, who later becomes one of the few survivors of Auschwitz.
These written testimonies found in 2018 encourage us to preserve the memory of our loved ones and to do our utmost to ensure that their tragedy is never repeated.
Non omnis moriar … I will not die completely…
Their immortality depends on us.
Girls, parents and children, 1942-1944
Their names with the ones of other murdered adult and child family members on a cemetery memorial plaque today
Stolpersteine, or stumbling stones have been defined by Wikipedia as follows:
“The works of the German sculptor Günter Demnig; 10×10 cm copper plaques in cobblestone, placed as a tribute to the victims of National Socialism in front of their former dwelling homes. These stones will make history visible and tangible in the everyday life of the residents.”
The inscription on each plaque begins with the words “He lived here”, followed by the name, date of birth and a brief description of the person’s fate.
Günter Demnig is responsible for the complete arrangement of the stone installations throughout Europe, including Hungary.
In Győr, the Spitzer family laid the first stones in 2016. MAZSIKE supported the project, covered part of the costs with state funding and organised Mr Demnig’s trip. In 2019, the Spiegel, Winkler, Klein (Quittner) and Adler families also laid stones in the city. Memorial stones for the Neuwirth family are still to be placed.
As of September 2019, a total of 446 stumbling blocks have been laid in Hungary, 150 of which were in Budapest.
On the occasion of the placement of the memorial stones in the honour of her family, Olga Spitzer said, “It was not an easy decision because I was afraid, but my defiance was greater than my fear of anti-Semitism.”
The following link provides information on the stumbling stones deposited in Hungary: https://mazsike.hu/projektek/botlatokovek/ The (not fully up-to-date) map also shows the stones of Győr.
If you want to have a memorial stone placed today, please contact MAZSIKE. You must be able to provide all the information needed for a standardised inscription, including the last freely chosen place of residence of the victim. These should be sent to mazsike@gmail.com with any questions for clarification.
Jakab Neuwirth was born in 1844 in Alistal (now Dolny Stal, Slovakia). The family later moved to Győr, where the father, Salamon Neuwirth, and later Jakab, worked as hauliers.
It was in 1920, well before the Holocaust, that Jakab Neuwirth was beaten to death by two men wearing crane-feathered berets, the symbol of antisemitic counter-revolutionary gangs supporting governor Horthy, and his money as well as pocket watch were stolen. The pocket watch and the chain that came with it had been given to him by the Habsburg King Charles because his seven sons had served in the First World War.
Jakab Neuwirth had 16 children who lived to adulthood, the age difference between the oldest and the youngest being almost 42 years. Imre is the eleventh in this line.
Imre Neuwirth was born in 1894 in Győr. After graduating from school, he became a master printer. His printing house, the Kisfaludy Printing House, was named after the Kisfaludy statue, behind which it was located. He worked not only as a printer, but also as a book and newspaper publisher. The newspaper, the magazine and the books he wrote, edited and published all dealt with Jewish social issues. He published his first journal, ‘Somer Yisrael’ (Guardian of Israel), when he was 21. However, the newspaper and the magazine ceased publication after a few issues due to a lack of subscribers. The bound copies of the books were deposited in the stock of the National Széchenyi Library, but in 1944 most of them were crushed.
Imre’s wife, Margit Kóth (Győr, 1894) was a midwife, who had already graduated as an adult. She is said to have been one of the best midwives in Győr. One of his two brothers was killed at Isonzo in World War I, and his sister and her family ended up in Auschwitz.
Imre had five children in his family. Jolán (1916), Jenő (1919), Sándor (1921), Sára (1923) and Miklós (1925). The family lived in modest but secure financial circumstances. They belonged to the Győr Orthodox Community, but the children were also involved in the Zionist movement.
The difficulties began in 1938 after the first law on Jews was passed.
Jenő, one of the sons, emigrated to what was then Palestine in 1938, started a family there and lived in Israel until his death in 2015. At the same time, a large group also left Győr for Palestine and they have remained in touch even today.
The rest of the family stayed in Hungary. After the outbreak of World War II, the men were called up for forced labour. The women, in 1944, were sent to a ghetto and then to Auschwitz, which neither of them survived. The “extended family” – descendants of Jakab Neuwirth – lost more than 50 men, women and children in the Shoah.
Imre Neuwirth and his sons, Sándor and Miklós, returned to Győr in 1945, after the liberation of the country, and tried to start a new life there. Soon it became obvious and was made clear to them that there was no need for their printing house and no possibility of keeping it going.
So, Imre Neuwirth left the country in 1946. His ship was sunk by the British and the rescued passengers were deported to Cyprus. From there, he was transferred to Israel and worked in Tel Aviv until his death in 1955.
Sándor moved from Győr to Budapest. He got married and became a mechanical engineer and later an engineer-economist. He had two sons (including the undersigned), three grandchildren and four great-grandchildren. He deceased in 2009.
Miklós, the other son of Imre Neuwirth, also moved to Budapest, where he became a paper industry engineer. In 1956, the family left Hungary and started a new life in Sweden. They had one son, three grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. Miklós died in 2011.
Imre’s eldest son Jenő, mentioned above, died in Israel in 2015, aged 95. He is survived by a daughter, four grandchildren and 18 (!) great-grandchildren.
The whole “extended family”, i.e. the descendants of Jakab Neuwirth, today about 240, are scattered all over the world, most of them living in Israel.
This “extended family” has been holding family reunions every two or three years since 2006. In 2008, around 100 people visited Győr in the framework of such an encounter.
Interview with Zsuzsanna Lorand (Győr, 1921 – Boston, 2006) in the local paper, Lexington, Massachusetts, USA, 1987
There were times during the Nazi persecution of Hungarian Jews that Zsuzsanna Lorand wanted to give up, commit suicide – anything to escape the horrors she was experiencing. Without her mother’s love and determination, Dr Zsuzsanna Lorand (born in Győr in 1921) admitted that she would not be alive today.
The scars of those days ran so deep that for 40 years Zsuzsanna suppressed the horror of her experiences during the Holocaust. “Lately I’ve been thinking more and more of the nightmare. Soon there won’t be any survivors left, and the world may forget,” she said. As a result, she felt obligated to come forward, as a way of keeping the memory alive and honoring her mother. She related some of her memories to about 200 people at the Yom HaShoah Remembrance Day Memorial Service at Temple Emanuel in Lexington (Massachusetts, United States). This was the first time she had ever spoken to a group about those painful memories.
Interview with Zsuzsanna Lorand, Lexington, Massachusetts, USA, 1987
“There were many occasions as a young adult when I was ready to give up,” she said, with a slight Hungarian accent. But her mother, who is now 91 and lives with her was the key to survival.
Margit Klein, Zsuzsanna’s mother in 1960, passed away at the age of one hundred and one
Zsuzsanna explained that until March 1944, when the Germans began their occupation of Hungary, she, her father, who was a doctor, her mother and her brother had never been physically harmed. However, those conditions would slowly change. It began with new regulations each day, she said. “First any Jew with a weapon should hand it over to German authorities. My father had a rusted gun from World War 1. He threw it into the Danube,” Zsuzsanna said. Then radios were confiscated, then bicycles. “Day-by-day they degraded us more and more,” she said. “Someone once asked me why I didn’t fight. They diminished us gradually,” she replied. “Little by little.”
With her parents and younger brother, László, born in Győr, 1923
Finally, the Nazis transported all the Jews to a “district” centre. They left their homes to live in an overcrowded ghetto where they were forced to wear the yellow Star of David. Then one day, they were herded into barracks where they stayed for several days. During that time, the Nazis shaved figures on the rabbi’s head to mock him. A few days later they were all herded to a railway station heading for Auschwitz. Her brother was headed toward a labor camp.
“I don’t know if we were naïve or they were just clever, because we thought we were being sent to an orchard in Hungary to pick fruit,” Zsuzsanna said, recalling the moment. “We were crammed in cattle wagons like sardines, penned in. They put a pail in the center which served as a toilet…” she said. There were little windows high up in the railroad car, which she used one day to watch Hungarian soldiers exit the train and German SS soldiers board.
At one point, the family considered a permanent way to escape: suicide. “My father had enough morphine in his bag that the three of us could have committed suicide,” Zsuzsanna said. “I was ready to do it, but my mother intervened. She said if my brother survived, he would never forgive us.” Zsuzsanna paused a moment that in retrospect “it would have been better for my father to commit suicide. He was gassed who months after getting to Auschwitz.”
Upon their arrival at Auschwitz, they were told to get undressed and the men and women were separated. Before he left, Zsuzsanna’s father told her mother not to leave their daughter. Then the Nazis shaved all the hair of each Jew’s body. Zsuzsanna and her mother stood near one another but did not recognize each other until they called out their names.
They were issued ill-fitting clothes that were open in the back. Then they were told to stand in line and were counted all night. Zsuzsanna developed a bad ear infection and a high fever. She was weak when the Nazis made all the Jews kneel in a line, holding their hands up in the air with a brick in each hand. When she was too weak to hold her hands up any longer “I was slapped on the face, and blood trickled from my mouth,” she said.
“My mother knew I wouldn’t survive” in the clothing she had on, Zsuzsanna said. So, her mother stole a man’s jacket from a pile near where an SS officer was standing. “If he had seen her,” Zsuzsanna said, “she would have been shot on the spot.”
They had been in Auschwitz for two months when the women were ordered to march naked “like horses” in front of SS officers. “This was for selection. They were short of laborers,” she said. Zsuzsanna and her mother were separated.
“She was 48 years old,” Zsuzsanna said of her mother. She was a nice, “little” woman, she added. But her mother took her father’s mandate “very seriously”, so when the Nazis herded the group, her daughter was in to the barracks. “She climbed through the window of the barracks,” Zsuzsanna said. Since there were no names being recorded, Zsuzsanna’s mother blended in. This group of women had been selected to go to a small town in Germany to work in a factory for 12 hours a day, six days a week. Although the food and living conditions were “somewhat better”, she became ill with pneumonia. When her mother came to visit her in the infirmary, the Polish doctor recommended that Zsuzsanna return to work the next day. “The next day anyone in the infirmary was brought back to Auschwitz,” Zsuzsanna said.
ID card after liberation, 1945
Then one evening the Nazis lined them all up and told them to start walking. “If you sat down,” Zsuzsanna said, “you would be shot.”
“We started walking at dusk, and walked 35 kilometers because American troops were approaching. “They wanted to get rid of us,” she continued. “They wanted to machine gun us in a valley.” During the march, Zsuzsanna became so weak that her mother had to drag her along. Another woman also would have stopped if Zsuzsanna’s mother had not dragged her as well. “This 48-year-old woman dragged two people all night,” she said.
What saved the group was that one of the German guards wanted to say goodbye to his family, so they marched a longer route. “This was to our advantage,” Zsuzsanna said, because American troops intercepted the group. “I’ll never forget that Sunday morning,” she said when they marched into a village and saw children with braided hair and people wearing white blouses.
ID card after liberation, 1945
Suddenly an alarm rang, and the Jews were herded onto a hilltop. “We heard a lot of planes and a lot of shooting,” she said. When dawn came, the German guards were gone. As Zsuzsanna and her mother went down, they saw a tall man standing there. The man was wearing a white helmet and a white armband with the letters “MP”. Her first taste of freedom was the chocolate candy bar the soldier gave her.
Eight years following liberation, with Peter Dallos’ elder brother, George, born in 1953
Quote from one of the messages of Peter Dallos, Zsuzsanna’s second son (born in 1956) to the site editor:
“I wish she were still alive, but she passed away 15 years ago … on June 17, 2006.
Although she was already in a coma for two weeks, my dad was sitting by her bedside every day and continued telling her that “Peter will be coming to see you.” (My parents were living in the Boston area, but I was living in New York). Around noon on June 17, 2006, I finally arrived … and two minutes later my mom breathed her last.
Since she was a passionate fan of opera and, particularly Verdi’s music, I made sure that this excerpt from Verdi’s “Requiem” was played during her funeral service: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7UENK70U6Lk”
Send us a concise history of your family or other writings about Jewish Győr. Please do not exceed 2 pages, with a 1.5 line spacing. Use Word format. Attach 2-3 photos.
Ágoston Léderer, economist, chemist, factory founder and art collector (Böhmisch-Leipa, Czech Republic, 1857 – Vienna, 1936), founder of the Győr Distillery and Refinery Ltd. (early 1890) and the Hungarian Waggon and Machine Factory in Győr (1896), was also the owner of the largest art collection in the Monarchy. He also founded the Austrian Railway Traffic Ltd. and the Hungarian Railway Traffic Ltd.
Ágoston Léderer, by Egon Schiele
He had so many ties to Győr that his wedding to Serena Pulitzer (Budapest, 1867 – Budapest, 1943) took place in Győr in 1892. The ceremony was presided over by the Chief Rabbi of the Dohány Street Synagogue, and in 1911 he moved to Győr with his family and acquired Hungarian citizenship. After the First World War they moved back to Vienna and lived in Vienna at Bartensteingasse 8 and had a castle (Ledererschlössel) in Wien-Weidlingau.
During the World War, Léderer gave large sums of money to refugees, the poor and the institutions set up to help them. In 1915, he himself set up a foundation to help disabled soldiers, with a sum of 200,000 crowns.
He was not only a factory founder and art collector, but also an artist patron. The family were close friends with many of the most famous Viennese artists of the time, including Gustav Klimt. One room in their Vienna apartment was dedicated to Klimt’s paintings. Klimt painted a full-length portrait of Serena, considered a famous beauty of the time, but also of Serena’s mother and daughter, Elisabeth. In 1912, on Klimt’s recommendation, the family also met Egon Schiele, who stayed with them for an extended period in Győr. During this time Schiele painted several pictures of the youngest son, Erik Léderer, but a fine portrait of the master of the house is also known. It was during this time that he painted the then still-standing wooden bridge “Goat’s Feet” in Győr (the painting, thought to have been destroyed, turned up by chance a few years ago).
“Goat’s Feet” bridge, by Egon Schiele
Here you can listen to the podcast of the Győr-based daily newspaper Kisalföld, in which Zalán Biczó, university librarian and local historian from Győr, reports on his latest research into Egon Schiele’s stay in Győr, his work there, and his friendships with the Léderer family: https://www.kisalfold.hu/helyi-kultura/2025/10/egon-schiele-gyor-biczo-zalan (produced in October 2025).
Here are a few more Schiele depictions of members of the Léderer family:
Egon Schiele: Erich Léderer in front of a window, 1912; source: Kunstkopie
Egon Schiele: Elisabeth Léderer, 1914; source: Wikipedia
Egon Schiele: Serena Léderer, 1917; source: Wikiart
