The May Beetles

by Schwartz, Baba;

  Our wedding was at the Gutmans’ house in Debrecen on the twenty-sixth of January, 1947. It was a freezing cold day, with snowstorms and howling winds. My mother was to come with Schneck in his truck, but when it was time to go under the chuppah, she hadn’t arrived. We waited and waited, but there was no sign of them. I sat there, on the kallah’s festive seat, and wept with worry. Finally they arrived, and we stood under the chuppah, shivering, Andor in his fur coat and long boots, and me in a hired short fur and with eyes red from crying. The day ended joyfully, though, with dancing and singing.

  We started married life in Andor’s house in Nyírbátor. I hadn’t been there before, and as I entered I saw an enormous carved bookshelf, stacked with all the classics: English, French and Russian authors, all translated into Hungarian. I was delighted: I had made a good marriage after all!

  After the debacle of the cigarettes, Andor entered into an arrangement with two partners to run a flour mill, but it didn’t work out. He heard of another mill, this one in Vámospércs, some fifty kilometres east of Debrecen. The family who owned it weren’t really interested in selling but needed capital to renew the machinery. Andor borrowed ten thousand forints from my Uncle Bimi and negotiated a fifty per cent partnership. The mill prospered and we were able to live a good life. We repaid Uncle Bimi in next to no time.

  Within a few months I was pregnant. I insisted that the baby would be delivered at home. ‘It was good enough for my grandmother, good enough for my mother, and it’s good enough for me,’ I said. And I knew my mother would be there at my bedside.

  The baby was born at two o’clock on the morning of the eleventh of March, 1948. It was a healthy boy, and after his first bath they brought him to me. His big blue eyes seemed to take in everything with great curiosity. Andor, the man who had lost his whole family in the Shoah, held his son. We named him Moshe, after Andor’s beloved father.

  Exhausted, everyone went to sleep. We awoke on Rosh Chodesh Adar Sheni, the first day of Adar, the day of the new moon. It is said that the arrival of Adar brings joy, and for us it did. This is a day on which Hallel is always recited. But not by Andor, of course.

  I was lying with my baby in the bedroom. Andor had arranged a minyan, a quorum of men, to pray and to celebrate. He came into the bedroom and said, ‘Give me the child.’ He took the baby to the next room, where the men were gathered. He introduced the boy to the congregation. ‘Here is my son! His name is Moshe Schwartz.’

  And then I heard a booming voice, unmistakeably Andor’s. He was intoning loudly to make sure I heard him from the next room. My heart was filled with joy. He was reciting the Hallel.

  The Schwartz house in Moshav Shafir, Israel.

  Afterword

  by Morry Schwartz

  Israel By April 1949 Hungary was moving towards Communism. Sensing a new threat, the Schwartz family decided to leave their new life and business behind.

  On the thirteenth of May, 1949, with the aid of people smugglers, Baba, Andor – with the fourteen-month-old Moshe on his back – and Andor’s cousin Joli walked under cover of night through a Carpathian forest to the Czechoslovakian border.

  They reached Košice, then travelled by train to Vienna, where they spent time in a Displaced Persons camp. Deciding to migrate to Israel, they took a train to Bari in Italy, then boarded a rusty old battleship, the Atzmaut. Three days later, on the fast day of Tisha B’Av (the fourth of August, 1949), they arrived in the port city of Haifa.

  They settled in a newly established agricultural village, Moshav Shafir, near Migdal Ashkelon. All the inhabitants were young refugee families from Hungary. It was a difficult pioneering life, lived at first in tents. They built houses and worked the land and created new lives for themselves.

  On the twenty-eighth of August, 1952, Baba and Andor’s second son, Eli (Alan), was born.

  Life became easier over time. For a while Andor served in the army. Baba began teaching herself English, for by 1958 they had decided to leave Israel. Andor was ambitious and longed for a life in the West; for her part, Baba was keen to reunite with her sisters, who were already living in Australia.

  Baba, Moshe (Morry) and Andor in Shafir, circa 1950.

  Joli, Moshe (Morry), Baba and baby Eli (Alan), 1952.

  Andor, Eli (Alan) and Baba ploughing a field.

  Enjoying entertainment in Shafir. Andor sits on the far left; Yehuda Rabin is next to him. Fourth from the left is Yossi Mondshein, and Moshe is to his left.

  Marta (left) with Atara Gutman, Baba’s beloved cousin, in Tel Aviv, circa 1952.

  Baba in front of the Kadima theatre, Tel Aviv, 1952.

  The Schwartz family on a stopover in Manila on the way to Australia.

  Australia In 1949 Boeske and her second husband, Laci Schneck, had migrated to New York. A few months earlier Erna, Sanyi and baby Bill had travelled to live in Melbourne, and a year or so later Marta and Ernest joined them.

  Even though Andor and Baba had very little money, Andor decided the family would travel to Australia in style. In September 1958 they boarded an Air France propeller plane, and four days later – having stopped over in Manila – they arrived at Essendon Airport.

  At first life in Melbourne was dispiriting and difficult. Andor worked as a labourer, including time at General Motors Holden, while Baba taught Hebrew and was an overlocker in a shirt factory.

  Six months after their arrival they borrowed money and bought a dairy farm in Nar Nar Goon, Gippsland. Andor’s farming instincts returned and they spent two happy years there, becoming Australians. The easy kindness of their neighbours after a fire in the kitchen of their little fibro farmhouse was a heartwarming welcome to their new country.

  In 1962 they sold the farm at a good profit, but unwisely bought a café, the Manhattan, in Dandenong, where they lost what they had made. With what was left they bought a milk bar in Richmond, but walked away from it within weeks.

  Laid low but undaunted, Andor again borrowed money and bought a boarding house. This was to be the beginning of his career as a successful developer of property.

  The family’s third son, Danny, was born on the sixteenth of August, 1962. Soon after, they moved to 74 Balaclava Road, Caulfield, which was to become their long-term family home.

  Baba worked alongside Andor as he built a successful business, but she used all her spare time to read and study. She graduated with a degree in English Literature from Monash University, and she taught herself Italian.

  Andor published his memoir, Living Memory, in 2003, when he was seventy-nine. He passed away at the age of ninety on the twelfth of April, 2014.

  Baba moved into an apartment in the city hotel that Andor built. There, she thrills at the views of the Yarra River, the bay and the Dandenongs. She continues to read, write, cook, bake and entertain her family and her many friends.

  Top: Ernest and Marta Schwarcz and Bill, Eva, Erna and Sanyi Gross in Melbourne, circa 1952.

  Bottom: At Essendon Airport to farewell Boeske, who was visiting from America, 1960.

  Top row: Sanyi, Andor, Ernest.

  Middle row: Erna, Baba, Boeske, Marta.

  Front row: Bill, Morry, Alan, Eva.

  Marta, Erna, Baba and Boeske at Essendon Airport, 1960.

  The Schwartz family in the driveway of their long-term Melbourne home in Caulfield.

  From left: Baba, Alan, Danny, Andor, Morry.

  The Schwartz family at Oscar Schwartz’s bar mitzvah in 2001.

  From left: Danny, Andor (who was sometimes affectionately called Bandi), Morry, Alan and Baba.

  Not in these photographs are: Baba’s beloved daughters-in-law, Anna, Carol and Uschi; Carol and Alan’s children, Thea, Hannah, Oscar and Ruby; Danny’s daughter, Delilah; Thea’s children, Hunter and Bonnie; and Anna’s daughter, Zahava, and grandchildren Lilith, Boaz and Hephzibah.

  Coda

  In 2003 Andor and Baba donated the funds to construct a memorial path, one kilometre long, in the gardens of Yad Vashem, in Jerusalem, known as the P
ath of Remembrance and Reflection.

  Among other markers along the path, there are two private headstones. One is in memory of Andor’s family: his father, Moritz; his mother, Kato; his brother, Imre; and his sister, Erszike. The other is in memory of Baba’s father, Gyula.

  At the consecration of this path, on the twentieth of April, 2005, in the presence of many friends, family and Israelis in public life, Baba made the following speech in which she addressed her father directly.

  Survivors of the Shoah carry

  An extra burden of pain, sorrow and anger.

  The weight of the load does not diminish

  With the passing of the years.

  To Yad Vashem we come to remember,

  And to relive.

  So please allow me to address my father.

  Father, Apukam, I need to speak to you.

  Now that your name is engraved on that stone

  I feel your immediate presence.

  I feel it as strong as then, when

  Our eyes met for the last time

  At that accursed place at Auschwitz.

  Do you remember?

  Three hellish days and nights on the train of the damned,

  Not enough place to sit for all of us,

  You stood throughout that grim, fearful journey,

  So that we could sit, your beloved ones,

  Your adored wife and treasured three daughters.

  You lived only for us, we were all your life.

  I do remember.

  We were brought to Auschwitz,

  Sheep ready for slaughter.

  Everything happened with lightning speed,

  Men and women were separated,

  Then a selection, this to right that to left.

  Mother and we girls with the living were sent.

  But no way for us to know to which side you went.

  In a huge hall brisk orders barked:

  All strip naked,

  Drop your clothes where you stand.

  Then inmates sheared our heads

  And gave us rags to wear,

  And from that shower on a warm day of May

  We came out altered, humiliated, shamed.

  To C Lager they took us, empty, yet to be filled,

  Stood there for hours in front of our barrack.

  The air was thick with smoke, the smell of burning flesh,

  And old inmates told us unspeakable truth.

  Then

  A company of men passed, unforeseen, surprising.

  I ran to see: were you amongst the men?

  You wore prisoner’s stripes and a prisoner cap,

  Easy to recognise, you looked like your old self.

  I, with boundless joy,

  Arms raised called out to you:

  Father, Apukam, look at me, here I am.

  You looked at me, puzzled,

  Questions rose in your eyes.

  I did not know why, I did not see myself.

  A crazy woman waving,

  Hairless and in rags.

  Do you remember?

  And I kept on screaming,

  Here I am look at me!

  My voice did it? Perhaps,

  But recognition came.

  Your eyes darkened with endless sorrow,

  You could not bear the sight,

  Buried your face into your hands

  And shuffled away, sobbing.

  The last time I saw you.

  I was sixteen then and you were forty-eight,

  In the prime of your life, clever, capable, smart,

  Lipe was with you, your wife’s younger brother.

  Now you looked after him,

  Fed him, protected him, even in Buchenwald.

  Duty bound you took him, for false promises came

  From the murderers’ mouth, Y’mach Sh’mam,

  Promises of more food at a better new place.

  And on the second day of Sukkot, in 1944,

  They took you back to Auschwitz to be sent up in smoke,

  You, and your charge, Lipe, your adored wife’s brother,

  With all the others.

  Father, do you hear me?

  Good tidings I bring you now,

  From Eretz Yisrael, from Yerushalayim,

  I am here to greet you, a content old woman,

  By my side my husband of fifty-seven years.

  He is good and clever, dutiful and caring,

  With a warm heart and an open hand,

  And we all love him.

  Look at our three sons now, Moshe, Yechiel-Alan, Danny,

  Denied the joy of having grandfathers.

  They would make you so proud,

  As they make us parents.

  Their wives and their children

  Stand beside them also.

  All are strong, all are bright,

  Yet loving and tender.

  You would love them, I know.

  I hope that you hear me,

  Apukam, dear Father

  Yechiel Ben Rafael Menashe

  Zichroncha Livracha, Alecha Shalom

  Nazi Documents from the Archive of Yad Vashem

  Stutthof arrival form for Margit Keimowitz (sic), number 37899. She gave her date of birth as 15 December 1923, adding four years to her age, pretending to be twenty-one, which she thought would enhance her chances of survival. Note the detailed physical description in this document.

  Stutthof detainee personal card for Margit Keimovitcsh (sic), number 37899. Again the physical description.

  Buchenwald arrival form for Gyulius (Gyula) Keimovits, where he was provided with number 56619. The document records that he was arrested at Nyírbátor on 21 April 1944, admitted on 25 May 1944 to Auschwitz and transferred to Buchenwald on 2 June 1944. The stamp at the bottom right – ‘8.10.44’ – indicates he was transferred again around that date to Auschwitz. At the base of the page is Gyula’s signature.

  Another document from Buchenwald. It records that Gyula, number 56619, was transferred to Buchenwald on 2 June 1944, and was sent to Auschwitz around 8 October 1944. It too is signed by Gyula.

  Gyula’s card at Buchenwald. It records that Jewish prisoner number 56619 arrived from Auschwitz on 2 June 1944. The stamped date of departure is 6 October 1944. Gyula stated his profession as ‘Glaser’, or glazier, as he thought there were jobs in a glass factory where he knew other Jewish employees.

  Lipe Kellner’s arrival form from Buchenwald. Lipe was given number 56618, one number before his brother-in-law Gyula. Lipe was arrested at Nyírbátor on 22 April 1944, admitted to Auschwitz on 25 May 1944, and transferred to Buchenwald on 2 June 1944. The stamp at the bottom right – ‘8.10.44’ – indicates he was transferred again around that date to Auschwitz. At the base of the page is Lipe’s signature.

  Buchenwald detainee personal card for Lajos (Lipe) Kellner, number 56618, who was transferred there from Auschwitz on 2 June 1944.

  This Buchenwald document records that Lipe, number 56618, was transferred from Auschwitz to Buchenwald on 2 June 1944, and was returned to Auschwitz around 8 October 1944. It too is signed by Lipe.

  Lipe’s card at Buchenwald. It records that Jewish prisoner number 56618 arrived from Auschwitz on 2 June 1944. The stamped date of departure is 6 October 1944. Like Gyula, Lipe stated his profession as ‘Glaser’, or glazier.

  ‘Lagerarztuntersuchungen’, or camp physician examinations. In this document, dated 30 September 1944, both Lipe and Gyula are noted as sick. A survivor of Buchenwald later told Baba that Gyula was in fact healthy at this time; he chose to go with Lipe.

  The page from the above-mentioned list on which Lipe and Gyula appear.

  Document from Buchenwald recording that on 6 October 1944 Lipe was sent back to Auschwitz. There he was murdered. The number 56618 was transferred from Lipe to a new detainee, Leo Wasserlauf, who was admitted to Buchenwald on 14 November 1944.

  Document from Buchenwald recording that on 6 October 1944 Gyula was sent back to Auschwitz. There he was murdered. The n
umber 56619 was transferred from Gyula to a new detainee, Naftali Ritter, who was admitted to Buchenwald on 14 November 1944. Naftali was sent to Gross Rosen camp on 27 November 1944.