I was selling everything, not only what I had taken over from the former manager. I had more than three hundred woodmen from the surroundings of Barot, they were cutting the trees in the woods, they came on Saturdays for bacon, curds, things like this. These woodmen bought the food in advance for one week. I liked the workers very much, and they liked me too, because I purchased everything they said.
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Displaying 48871 - 48900 of 50826 results
Alice Kosa
Without being taught, we didn’t speak Yiddish, but we understood everything they were saying. We heard it daily either from one or the other, and we understood everything. I learnt German in school, but since I understood Yiddish already, I learnt German easily.
[After my retirement] I studied Esperanto, I attended two courses of English. But I attended tailoring course as well. We didn’t quite learn to tailor, but we were drawing on paper. The teacher was a man, he took the measures, and he drew on the board, we in our copy-book with a pencil, one square was one centimeter, that was the base. I still have that copy-book.
[After my retirement] I studied Esperanto, I attended two courses of English. But I attended tailoring course as well. We didn’t quite learn to tailor, but we were drawing on paper. The teacher was a man, he took the measures, and he drew on the board, we in our copy-book with a pencil, one square was one centimeter, that was the base. I still have that copy-book.
Romania
I liked languages very much. I was engaged in seven languages counting my mother-tongue too: Hungarian, Romanian, Latin, German, French, then I attended English and Esperanto courses, but I learnt more privately than on courses.
Romania
There were three places in Marosvasarhely, and she got one of them, in the furniture factory. She had to do practice in the factory for three years, it was compulsory. During the time she was accomplishing those three years of practice, they were looking for teachers for the timber engineering high school of Marosvasarhely, for the evening classes. And they called on Juditka as well in the factory, if she wouldn’t like to teach in the evening classes – those who attend evening classes.
Well of course, she had such a low salary, she had one thousand and two or three hundred lei salary, she accepted. And people became attached to Juditka in the school, and they asked her if she didn’t want to go there as a teacher, when the three years would be over. Oh, gladly, with pleasure. She was happy. She felt much more like [being a teacher], of course.
Well of course, she had such a low salary, she had one thousand and two or three hundred lei salary, she accepted. And people became attached to Juditka in the school, and they asked her if she didn’t want to go there as a teacher, when the three years would be over. Oh, gladly, with pleasure. She was happy. She felt much more like [being a teacher], of course.
My Juditka was born in 1945. Juditka too liked languages very much, I thought she would study languages. But she took to mathematics, and so only engineering… And she could have chosen a profession, a university, which was close. We didn’t have the financial means – though she had a scholarship too. And that’s why she had to choose something which was in Brasso, she finished timber engineering.
She finished her studies in 1968, and I told her: ‘If there are jobs in Marosvasarhely – since they put out a notice-board with the jobs –, I advice you to choose Marosvasarhely, to be in the same town with Alpar, your brother.
She finished her studies in 1968, and I told her: ‘If there are jobs in Marosvasarhely – since they put out a notice-board with the jobs –, I advice you to choose Marosvasarhely, to be in the same town with Alpar, your brother.
He [Alpar Kosa]was a good goalkeeper at the beginning. He was a goalkeeper for a while in Sepsiszentgyorgy, within the class B. In Marosvasarhely the team was of class A, and somebody saw Alpar playing, and convinced him to go to Marosvasarhely. That’s how he got to Marosvasarhely, as they accepted him as a goalkeeper.
So I reported to the employment agency, and that’s how I got a job from 1stAugust 1952. I was the chief accountant of the county headquarters of the Agricola. I had ten branch offices, ten villages had agricultural engineers, they all fell under my responsibility. I liked accounting very much, and that was what I had learnt, it’s true that I forgot everything.
But I learnt again very fast, and the Agricola had a much simpler accounting system than if I were chief accountant in a factory. Maybe I wouldn’t have taken on a job in a factory, but this was a small [enterprise], I had ten points [villages], I could do it properly.
But I learnt again very fast, and the Agricola had a much simpler accounting system than if I were chief accountant in a factory. Maybe I wouldn’t have taken on a job in a factory, but this was a small [enterprise], I had ten points [villages], I could do it properly.
My husband disapproved, didn’t want to let me work. Alright, he didn’t feel like letting me work, but I invented all sort of things, because he couldn’t have supported the family from his salary. In the meantime the family got a fourth member, and we couldn’t have lived on his salary of a thousand and four hundred lei. I invented all kind of things. I prepared chocolate, I filled slices with delicious Dobostorta cream, and I was selling home-made chocolate, cakes, with a modest interest, to say so.
I sold one piece of chocolate for one lei, and the cake too. And in the meantime I mended invisibly until midnight, I earned more than my husband. Because I couldn’t bear it, I needed it [the money]… And we had two children. Then I was teaching German [at home], sometimes I even had nine students [during one academic year].
I sold one piece of chocolate for one lei, and the cake too. And in the meantime I mended invisibly until midnight, I earned more than my husband. Because I couldn’t bear it, I needed it [the money]… And we had two children. Then I was teaching German [at home], sometimes I even had nine students [during one academic year].
I told him: ‘You must go away. Listen to me, we have one option here. You reported yourself voluntarily to the fascists, they won’t ask you whether you went there for emotional reasons, because you didn’t want to divorce me. The first thing they would do will be to arrest you – I said –, it won’t be of much use for me. It’s much worse.
Thus I can hope that we would meet again, but if they take you away, it’s sure you won’t get home alive. So it has no reason that you stay. Go away, so that I have hopes!’ Oh my dear God, I was so right! I always said that I had a presentiment of evil.
I must make a low bow to myself, because I assumed to send him to the front-line, to the unknown – I have no letters – with one child and a future one, because I was four months pregnant. And I was left here with nothing, with absolutely nothing, with one and a half child. He didn’t resist me, though he knew we would be left without bread and butter.
Thus I can hope that we would meet again, but if they take you away, it’s sure you won’t get home alive. So it has no reason that you stay. Go away, so that I have hopes!’ Oh my dear God, I was so right! I always said that I had a presentiment of evil.
I must make a low bow to myself, because I assumed to send him to the front-line, to the unknown – I have no letters – with one child and a future one, because I was four months pregnant. And I was left here with nothing, with absolutely nothing, with one and a half child. He didn’t resist me, though he knew we would be left without bread and butter.
In Brasso the rents were extremely high, well they [the owners]lived of that. We rented an apartment with two rooms and a bathroom, but not a first class one. It was very nice, but one could access only the kitchen from the hall, and [from there]you got into the rooms.
And it gave onto the yard [not on the street]. And still, we paid two thousand two hundred lei for it. So, we had this big debt [rent]. I was looking for other apartment. Accidentally I met an acquaintance from Malnas, he says: ‘How are you?’ I told him that we didn’t have a job, that was it.
He says: ‘Hey, there is a very good shop in Bikszad, rent it.’ [Editor’s note: Sepsibukszad, in Romanian Bixad is 31 km far from Sepsiszentgyorgy.]I said I would take a look. There are several houses in the railway station area in Bikszad, just as it used to be.
One of them was a house with entresol, down there was a shop and a pub. They wanted to sell the shop, because the manager got married and moved to Kolozsvar. I took a look, alone, well, my husband did what I wanted him to do. Because my husband admitted without words that he didn’t understand business. That’s why he lost it [his job]. He didn’t know what to do as a stock clerk.
And it gave onto the yard [not on the street]. And still, we paid two thousand two hundred lei for it. So, we had this big debt [rent]. I was looking for other apartment. Accidentally I met an acquaintance from Malnas, he says: ‘How are you?’ I told him that we didn’t have a job, that was it.
He says: ‘Hey, there is a very good shop in Bikszad, rent it.’ [Editor’s note: Sepsibukszad, in Romanian Bixad is 31 km far from Sepsiszentgyorgy.]I said I would take a look. There are several houses in the railway station area in Bikszad, just as it used to be.
One of them was a house with entresol, down there was a shop and a pub. They wanted to sell the shop, because the manager got married and moved to Kolozsvar. I took a look, alone, well, my husband did what I wanted him to do. Because my husband admitted without words that he didn’t understand business. That’s why he lost it [his job]. He didn’t know what to do as a stock clerk.
It didn’t go, it didn’t go [the business for us]. I couldn’t accept it, I told Jeno: I can’t stand that Laci is taking the money, and you are serving. What if I need a pair of stockings, should I ask money from Laci? I tell you I can’t bear this, we have to do something. I didn’t like this at all.
After the wedding we lived in Sepsiszentgyorgy, as the grocery he and his brother opened was there. And he didn’t want me to work. The shop was in the Csiki street, where the bookshop is today, next to the corner. ‘Kosa Brothers’.
But his brother was five years older, and he was the shopkeeper. Now, what happened? It occurred that my husband didn’t learn this professions, he was just measuring. But the money too was taken in by his brother – they noted what people took home [and paid for later]–, he purchased the goods, he managed the money.
But his brother was five years older, and he was the shopkeeper. Now, what happened? It occurred that my husband didn’t learn this professions, he was just measuring. But the money too was taken in by his brother – they noted what people took home [and paid for later]–, he purchased the goods, he managed the money.
We didn’t have a religious wedding. I told Jeno that I wouldn’t quit my religion, even if I wasn’t observing it, I wouldn’t quit it. I don’t believe in it more, so why should I? Jeno and I walked up to the parish hall of Nagyborosnyo, and I said whoever would be there, would be the witness.
So an engineer became the witness, he worked in Brasso, at the sugarworks as an engineer, and he had just come home, and a farmer. That’s on my marriage certificate. They were in front of the parish hall, the farmer was talking to the engineer, and we asked them to be the witnesses. My two aunts prepared a good, tasty lunch, cakes, all kinds of things, but just for the family. My husband’s parents weren’t there [for lunch].
So an engineer became the witness, he worked in Brasso, at the sugarworks as an engineer, and he had just come home, and a farmer. That’s on my marriage certificate. They were in front of the parish hall, the farmer was talking to the engineer, and we asked them to be the witnesses. My two aunts prepared a good, tasty lunch, cakes, all kinds of things, but just for the family. My husband’s parents weren’t there [for lunch].
My grandmother was religious, she was going [to the synagogue]. She could read in Hebrew, the religion prescribed that one had to read from a prayer book and the Bible [Torah], that was the prayer. Therefore all the children could read when they were little already.
On Friday the usual things: grandma lighted candles, she recited a prayer over the candle, she baked the usual challah. She didn’t bake bread, she bought it as far as I remember.
She prepared the meat after leaving it for one hour in water, then half an hour in salt. Blood is forbidden for Jews, meaning that they mustn’t eat anything bloody, because the Jewish religion considers that blood is unclean.
She prepared the meat after leaving it for one hour in water, then half an hour in salt. Blood is forbidden for Jews, meaning that they mustn’t eat anything bloody, because the Jewish religion considers that blood is unclean.
The jabot was made of thin lace, and they put it around the neck to decorate the blouse. My grandmother didn’t wear a shawl, I suppose because the wig counted for shawl as well. But it [the wig]was made of [real]hair, it surely had the same color as her hair she had cut off, because she had cut it off at a young age, she got cataract on her eyes at quite a young age.
There were two women wearing wig in the whole town, only grandma and her younger sister. In Sepsiszentgyorgy my grandmother had three more sisters, one of them [Cecilia Kende]had her hair cut, because she had cancer.
She was praying God to help her, and she thought that if she cut her hair [she would recover]. But she died, she cut her hair in vain. Her hair was cut, and she died.
Only the two of them had their hair cut [in Sepsiszentgyorgy], my grandmother because of her oath, that her operation was successful, and her sister, because she had cancer. Neologs don’t cut their hair either, Neologs too don’t wear wigs, only the Hasidim [3] and the Orthodox.
There were two women wearing wig in the whole town, only grandma and her younger sister. In Sepsiszentgyorgy my grandmother had three more sisters, one of them [Cecilia Kende]had her hair cut, because she had cancer.
She was praying God to help her, and she thought that if she cut her hair [she would recover]. But she died, she cut her hair in vain. Her hair was cut, and she died.
Only the two of them had their hair cut [in Sepsiszentgyorgy], my grandmother because of her oath, that her operation was successful, and her sister, because she had cancer. Neologs don’t cut their hair either, Neologs too don’t wear wigs, only the Hasidim [3] and the Orthodox.
My maternal grandmother didn’t have her hair cut [when she was a young woman], she wasn’t that religious to wear a wig. But she got cataract on her both eyes, so she took an oath that she would cut her hair, if her operation went well, and she would see.
The most famous ophthalmologist in Transylvania was a Saxon in Segesvar, doctor Depner – he came to my mind one of these days, because I also have a cataract on my eye, and I can’t see almost anything – [he operated grandma’s eyes].
Her operation went well, and that’s how it happened that finally, I don’t know how old she was, because I was a child, but she cut her hair off indeed, and wore a wig after that. Grandma wore a long, black skirt, and she put on a black or dark-blue blouse, but she had a lace jabot, she put it there.
The most famous ophthalmologist in Transylvania was a Saxon in Segesvar, doctor Depner – he came to my mind one of these days, because I also have a cataract on my eye, and I can’t see almost anything – [he operated grandma’s eyes].
Her operation went well, and that’s how it happened that finally, I don’t know how old she was, because I was a child, but she cut her hair off indeed, and wore a wig after that. Grandma wore a long, black skirt, and she put on a black or dark-blue blouse, but she had a lace jabot, she put it there.
Aunt Mari’s husband was called David Schonberger, they were Orthodox Jews, because aunt Mari wore a wig, and she was going to the Orthodox synagogue, and she had an Orthodox cook.
Only the housemaid was Christian, but the cook, who prepared food for them, was also Orthodox, she had to be. Aunt Mari had a son and two daughters. Her son was called Hendrik Schonberger, well he was the commander, the big bug [the manager] of the shop, he presented the goods, everything, because his parents were aged.
Only the housemaid was Christian, but the cook, who prepared food for them, was also Orthodox, she had to be. Aunt Mari had a son and two daughters. Her son was called Hendrik Schonberger, well he was the commander, the big bug [the manager] of the shop, he presented the goods, everything, because his parents were aged.
Grandma had a younger sister in Szatmarnemeti, aunt Mari. She also finished four years of higher elementary school [like grandmother], but she was a very religious woman.
[Editor’s note: It is rather unlikely that Alice Kosa’s grandmother born in 1855 would have attended higher elementary school: higher elementary schools (civil schools called ‘polgari iskola’) were established following the Law on Public Education of 1868.]
She got married to an Orthodox [Jewish] man, and she moved to Szatmarnemeti, the family of uncle Schonberger was from Szatmarnemeti. I suppose this must have been an arranged marriage as well, but she established a family there, in Szatmarnemeti.
They were millionaires, they were wholesaler haberdashers, meaning that they didn’t sell for people, but only to merchants. They had six traveling agents. That’s how it was back then, agents traveled all around the country, and they booked the orders in villages, towns, everywhere.
[Editor’s note: It is rather unlikely that Alice Kosa’s grandmother born in 1855 would have attended higher elementary school: higher elementary schools (civil schools called ‘polgari iskola’) were established following the Law on Public Education of 1868.]
She got married to an Orthodox [Jewish] man, and she moved to Szatmarnemeti, the family of uncle Schonberger was from Szatmarnemeti. I suppose this must have been an arranged marriage as well, but she established a family there, in Szatmarnemeti.
They were millionaires, they were wholesaler haberdashers, meaning that they didn’t sell for people, but only to merchants. They had six traveling agents. That’s how it was back then, agents traveled all around the country, and they booked the orders in villages, towns, everywhere.
They argued repeatedly, not just one person, since I was inquiring too – well my grandmother was taken, I knew well she would get killed, she was 89 years old –, and everybody told me to have seen Agi and Erno, when the camps were liberated already. But they didn’t come home. Yet they disappeared.
Many fell sick, because after all that starvation they invaded the storehouse left there, which was full with canned food, and those starving people, who had got unused to food, shouldn’t have done that [shouldn’t have eaten], and perhaps they died of that.
However, nobody came home from the Frank family, everybody died, it didn’t have so many members: Sandor Frank, Regina, Agi, Erno, his wife, and their little son. That’s how this family died out.
Many fell sick, because after all that starvation they invaded the storehouse left there, which was full with canned food, and those starving people, who had got unused to food, shouldn’t have done that [shouldn’t have eaten], and perhaps they died of that.
However, nobody came home from the Frank family, everybody died, it didn’t have so many members: Sandor Frank, Regina, Agi, Erno, his wife, and their little son. That’s how this family died out.
,
During WW2
See text in interview
I don’t know how he met Regina Hartmann, but they met each other even from so far. Girls weren’t so free [at that time, like today], because they were religious, and they didn’t have any occasion to meet stranger boys [not even Jewish boys].
Boys didn’t have a chance either to meet [girls]. And so it was a custom that they found and introduced [girls to the marrying boys]. It wasn’t fashionable yet in my time, but in my grandmother’s time they [wives] were introduced, arranged.
In my time they [girls] could act more freely already. Uncle Sandor’s had a nice small-wares shop [in Sepsiszentgyorgy] – the shop itself still exists –, but when fascism came, I don’t know why, they gave it as a dowry to their daughter, and it ran under her name.
Boys didn’t have a chance either to meet [girls]. And so it was a custom that they found and introduced [girls to the marrying boys]. It wasn’t fashionable yet in my time, but in my grandmother’s time they [wives] were introduced, arranged.
In my time they [girls] could act more freely already. Uncle Sandor’s had a nice small-wares shop [in Sepsiszentgyorgy] – the shop itself still exists –, but when fascism came, I don’t know why, they gave it as a dowry to their daughter, and it ran under her name.
Romania
In the first half of the last century it was a fashion that craftsmen went to Bucharest. Romania was underdeveloped, there wasn’t anything, and craftsmen, whoever was capable, flocked to Romania from here [from Transylvania].
Szatmari was a famous photographer, he went to Bucharest at that time [at the beginning of the 20thcentury], and he made a big fortune there. If we find Romanians with Hungarian names, you can be sure that their great-grandparents went there from here, as Hungarians, because they could earn well.
They introduced this and that. People didn’t buy shoes from the shop, they could do that, but most of them wanted to have shoes, which suited their feet perfectly. There were fashion magazines, so they could choose the model they liked, and they had that made.
That’s how my grandmother got to Bucharest as well. She was already a widow [a divorced woman] – she divorced the handsome Klein she had got married to for the second time – when she left, but she was a great cook, and she had a small, homely, kosher eating-house in Bucharest, it went well. It wasn’t a restaurant, just a small hash-house.
Szatmari was a famous photographer, he went to Bucharest at that time [at the beginning of the 20thcentury], and he made a big fortune there. If we find Romanians with Hungarian names, you can be sure that their great-grandparents went there from here, as Hungarians, because they could earn well.
They introduced this and that. People didn’t buy shoes from the shop, they could do that, but most of them wanted to have shoes, which suited their feet perfectly. There were fashion magazines, so they could choose the model they liked, and they had that made.
That’s how my grandmother got to Bucharest as well. She was already a widow [a divorced woman] – she divorced the handsome Klein she had got married to for the second time – when she left, but she was a great cook, and she had a small, homely, kosher eating-house in Bucharest, it went well. It wasn’t a restaurant, just a small hash-house.
My grandmother had a son, Viliam, Vilmos from Sternbach, he left for France, and had a large tailor’s shop in Paris.
Grandma’s first husband died, then she married Klein, but they had a very bad married life. My grandmother told me that he had been a very handsome man, but he was as beautiful as a bad and rude person, so their marriage lasted for a short time.
They had a daughter, but she died after a few months. She was 10 or 12 months old, when grandma had to go to Brasso for some reason – I don’t know why, I didn’t ask such things as a child – [and she took the child too with her].
Grandma said that she had been such a beautiful child that people had stopped on the street in Brasso, and had admired her. But the little girl ran such a high temperature by the evening that she died soon. She was the eldest Klein daughter. Then a girl called Berta followed, then my mother.
Grandma’s first husband died, then she married Klein, but they had a very bad married life. My grandmother told me that he had been a very handsome man, but he was as beautiful as a bad and rude person, so their marriage lasted for a short time.
They had a daughter, but she died after a few months. She was 10 or 12 months old, when grandma had to go to Brasso for some reason – I don’t know why, I didn’t ask such things as a child – [and she took the child too with her].
Grandma said that she had been such a beautiful child that people had stopped on the street in Brasso, and had admired her. But the little girl ran such a high temperature by the evening that she died soon. She was the eldest Klein daughter. Then a girl called Berta followed, then my mother.
The maiden name of my maternal grandmother was Franciska Feder, Fanni. Her first husband was a man called Sternbach, he was an elder man, he could have been her father. That’s what my grandmother told me, that she didn’t love Sternbach, though he was a very good person, but he was so old, and there was the handsome Klein, who was an optician, and she loved him.
However, Sternbach was wealthier, he had a prosperous restaurant, and her parents wanted her to get married to him.
What could a 14-15 years old girl do? She had to marry him. She hid even under the bed, when she saw Sternbach was coming, that’s what she related. All this happened in Fogaras, but I don’t know these more in detail; today’s children inquire more their parents than we did at the beginning of the last century.
However, Sternbach was wealthier, he had a prosperous restaurant, and her parents wanted her to get married to him.
What could a 14-15 years old girl do? She had to marry him. She hid even under the bed, when she saw Sternbach was coming, that’s what she related. All this happened in Fogaras, but I don’t know these more in detail; today’s children inquire more their parents than we did at the beginning of the last century.
My father did the army service when he was a young man, but ‘thanks God’ he had a hernia, so he had to do a kind of support service, he had some kind of job not requesting any qualification in Budapest.
My father’s name was Albert Molnar, but Molnar was an adopted name. But my father’s original name has a story. Since not Marmorstein was his name, but Steiner – complicated things, you see.
He told me that his mother had gone to Hungary [to her sister] to give birth, because she was from Hungary, well, she had come to Nagyborosnyo because of her marriage, she had come from far, from Budapest’s surroundings.
Her elder sister was there, she didn’t have any relatives here [in Nagyborosnyo], and back then women gave birth at home, and so she, my father’s mother went home to have her child born there, at her sister’s.
My father was born there [near Budapest] in 1888, and it’s a small town, well everybody knew everybody, the sister of my father’s mother was called Mrs. Steiner, and the midwife reported him under the name Steiner. Thus my father’s name originally was Steiner, and he was registered in Budapest.
He told me that his mother had gone to Hungary [to her sister] to give birth, because she was from Hungary, well, she had come to Nagyborosnyo because of her marriage, she had come from far, from Budapest’s surroundings.
Her elder sister was there, she didn’t have any relatives here [in Nagyborosnyo], and back then women gave birth at home, and so she, my father’s mother went home to have her child born there, at her sister’s.
My father was born there [near Budapest] in 1888, and it’s a small town, well everybody knew everybody, the sister of my father’s mother was called Mrs. Steiner, and the midwife reported him under the name Steiner. Thus my father’s name originally was Steiner, and he was registered in Budapest.
I announced uncle Izso, they moved to Brasso, rented the pub, and it worked very well indeed. They were in Brasso during the war as well, uncle Izso and his wife too died there after the war, but I couldn’t tell more precisely when. Klari too died in Brasso, she was married about two times.
Luci got married quite late, after World War II, to a Jewish boy from Nagyvarad, but their marriage lasted only for a few weeks. The autumn festivals were near, she told her husband that she would go home to her parents for the festivals, and she never went back. She left for Israel, she still lives there in the same town with her brother, Gabi [Gabor].
One of my father’s younger sisters was called Berta Marmorstein– she remained Marmorstein. Aunt Berta got married to a boy from Pest, they lived in Budapest. Their daughter is Aliz, who is still alive, thanks’ God, she was born in 1913, she is 92 years old.
She got married to a catholic man, to Istvan Bogdan, but he didn’t observe [religion], because he was a great communist. He was a clerk in the Manfred Weiss Aircraft Factory [1] [2], and there the workers were great communists anyway.
Their daughter, Eva Bogdan is a teacher of German and French language in Budapest, she was born there, and she lives there. She was married, she has two children, one of them is Peter, he’s twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old now, he’s engaged in music, that’s all I know about him.
Luci got married quite late, after World War II, to a Jewish boy from Nagyvarad, but their marriage lasted only for a few weeks. The autumn festivals were near, she told her husband that she would go home to her parents for the festivals, and she never went back. She left for Israel, she still lives there in the same town with her brother, Gabi [Gabor].
One of my father’s younger sisters was called Berta Marmorstein– she remained Marmorstein. Aunt Berta got married to a boy from Pest, they lived in Budapest. Their daughter is Aliz, who is still alive, thanks’ God, she was born in 1913, she is 92 years old.
She got married to a catholic man, to Istvan Bogdan, but he didn’t observe [religion], because he was a great communist. He was a clerk in the Manfred Weiss Aircraft Factory [1] [2], and there the workers were great communists anyway.
Their daughter, Eva Bogdan is a teacher of German and French language in Budapest, she was born there, and she lives there. She was married, she has two children, one of them is Peter, he’s twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old now, he’s engaged in music, that’s all I know about him.
Uncle Izso stayed in Pest as a young man, and married his first-degree cousin, Irma Steiner. They didn’t care about the blood relationship, the blood composition wasn’t known in deep, so they didn’t have any objections to it.
The two mothers, the mother of the girl he married, and his mother were sisters. Uncle Izso was a clerk in Rakospalota – it’s one of the suburbs of Pest – at the lamp factory. In 1912 they had two daughters, Luci and Klara, twins, but not identical twins.
They moved home to Nagyborosnyo, their son, Gabor was born there. They had moderate means in Nagyborosnyo, so I invited them to stay in Brasso. Since there was a small pub near the grocery we were renting, where they cooked soup as well, and it became available.
knew that if it was handled by a straight, honest man, who didn’t water down the beer, it could develop very well. I announced uncle Izso, they moved to Brasso, rented the pub, and it worked very well indeed. They were in Brasso during the war as well, uncle Izso and his wife too died there after the war, but I couldn’t tell more precisely when. Klari too died in Brasso, she was married about two times.
The two mothers, the mother of the girl he married, and his mother were sisters. Uncle Izso was a clerk in Rakospalota – it’s one of the suburbs of Pest – at the lamp factory. In 1912 they had two daughters, Luci and Klara, twins, but not identical twins.
They moved home to Nagyborosnyo, their son, Gabor was born there. They had moderate means in Nagyborosnyo, so I invited them to stay in Brasso. Since there was a small pub near the grocery we were renting, where they cooked soup as well, and it became available.
knew that if it was handled by a straight, honest man, who didn’t water down the beer, it could develop very well. I announced uncle Izso, they moved to Brasso, rented the pub, and it worked very well indeed. They were in Brasso during the war as well, uncle Izso and his wife too died there after the war, but I couldn’t tell more precisely when. Klari too died in Brasso, she was married about two times.
My father’s younger brother was called Izso Molnar. His name originally was Marmorstein. There were two boys in the family, my father and his brother, and the two boys adopted the name Molnar. They magyarized their name when they were bachelors, unmarried, as soon as they became of age. [Editor’s note: This must have happened in the 1900s.]
This was a kind of custom. That’s why there are so many [Jews with] nice names. They adopted nice names. I don’t know why they didn’t like their [old] name. It was a German name, and if they lived in Hungary, why should they have had a German name, why shouldn’t it be Hungarian?
This was a kind of custom. That’s why there are so many [Jews with] nice names. They adopted nice names. I don’t know why they didn’t like their [old] name. It was a German name, and if they lived in Hungary, why should they have had a German name, why shouldn’t it be Hungarian?
In 1916, when the Romanians [the Romanian Army]were coming in, Hungarians were fleeing. The Romanians came in with an intense hate, and they were very course, uneducated soldiers, it was dreadful. The Romanians [soldiers] beat a lot the few men who were at home – since, well, men were either soldiers, either in captivity or dead on the battlefield. It [the beating] was called ‘the twenty-five’, they struck 25 or 50 with a cudgel, depending on how they liked that person.
My grandfather’s family fled too, and my grandfather died during escape – in 1916 – in Nagybacon [Editor’s note: Nagybacon, in Romanian Batanii Mari is 54 km far from Nagyborosnyo in north-west direction] of a contagious disease, I suppose of Spanish flu.
My grandfather’s family fled too, and my grandfather died during escape – in 1916 – in Nagybacon [Editor’s note: Nagybacon, in Romanian Batanii Mari is 54 km far from Nagyborosnyo in north-west direction] of a contagious disease, I suppose of Spanish flu.