There weren’t mixed marriages at all in those days. A Jewish girl didn’t marry a Christian. Her husband could have been old, or like this or that, but the man must have been Jewish. After the war this changed, it occurred that Jewish boys married Christian girls.
- Tradíciók 11756
- Beszélt nyelv 3019
- Identitás 7808
- A település leírása 2440
- Oktatás, iskola 8506
- Gazdaság 8772
- Munka 11672
- Szerelem & romantika 4929
- Szabadidő/társadalmi élet 4159
- Antiszemitizmus 4822
-
Főbb események (politikai és történelmi)
4256
- örmény népirtás 2
- Doctor's Plot (1953) 178
- Soviet invasion of Poland 31
- Siege of Leningrad 86
- The Six Day War 4
- Yom Kippur War 2
- Atatürk halála 5
- Balkán háborúk (1912-1913) 35
- Első szovjet-finn háború 37
- Csehszlovákia megszállása 1938 83
- Franciaország lerohanása 9
- Molotov-Ribbentrop paktum 65
- Varlik Vergisi (vagyonadó) 36
- Első világháború (1914-1918) 216
- Spanyolnátha (1918-1920) 14
- Latvian War of Independence (1918-1920) 4
- Nagy gazdasági világválság (1929-1933) 20
- Hitler hatalmon (1933) 127
- 151 Kórház 1
- Thesszaloniki tűzvész (1917) 9
- Görög polgárháború (1946-49) 12
- Thesszaloniki Nemzetközi Vásár 5
- Bukovina Romániához csatolása (1918) 7
- Észak-Bukovina csatolása a Szovjetunióhoz (1940) 19
- Lengyelország német megszállása (1939) 94
- Kisinyevi pogrom (1903) 7
- Besszarábia romániai annexiója (1918) 25
- A magyar uralom visszatérése Erdélybe (1940-1944) 43
- Besszarábia szovjet megszállása (1940) 59
- Második bécsi diktátum 27
- Észt függetlenségi háború 3
- Varsói felkelés 2
- A balti államok szovjet megszállása (1940) 147
- Osztrák lovagi háború (1934) 9
- Anschluss (1938) 71
- A Habsburg birodalom összeomlása 3
- Dollfuß-rendszer 3
- Kivándorlás Bécsbe a második világháború előtt 36
- Kolkhoz 131
- KuK - Königlich und Kaiserlich 40
- Bányászjárás 1
- A háború utáni szövetséges megszállás 7
- Waldheim ügy 5
- Trianoni békeszerződés 12
- NEP 56
- Orosz forradalom 351
- Ukrán éhínség (Holodomor) 199
- A Nagy tisztogatás 283
- Peresztrojka 233
- 1941. június 22. 468
- Molotov rádióbeszéde 115
- Győzelem napja 147
- Sztálin halála 365
- Hruscsov beszéde a 20. kongresszuson 148
- KGB 62
- NKVD 153
- Magyarország német megszállása (1944. március 18-19.) 45
- Józef Pilsudski (1935-ig) 33
- 1956-os forradalom 84
- Prágai Tavasz (1968) 73
- 1989-es rendszerváltás 174
- Gomulka kampány (1968) 81
-
Holokauszt
9685
- Holokauszt (általánosságban) 2789
- Koncentrációs tábor / munkatábor 1235
- Tömeges lövöldözési műveletek 337
- Gettó 1183
- Halál / megsemmisítő tábor 647
- Deportálás 1063
- Kényszermunka 791
- Repülés 1410
- Rejtőzködés 594
- Ellenállás 121
- 1941-es evakuálások 866
- Novemberpogrom / Kristályéjszaka 34
- Eleutherias tér 10
- Kasztner csoport 1
- Jászvásári pogrom és a halálvonat 21
- Sammelwohnungen 9
- Strohmann rendszer 11
- Struma hajó 17
- Élet a megszállás alatt 803
- Csillagos ház 72
- Védett ház 15
- Nyilaskeresztesek ("nyilasok") 42
- Dunába lőtt zsidók 6
- Kindertranszport 26
- Schutzpass / hamis papírok 95
- Varsói gettófelkelés (1943) 24
- Varsói felkelés (1944) 23
- Segítők 521
- Igazságos nemzsidók 269
- Hazatérés 1090
- Holokauszt-kárpótlás 112
- Visszatérítés 109
- Vagyon (vagyonvesztés) 595
- Szerettek elvesztése 1724
- Trauma 1029
- Beszélgetés a történtekről 1807
- Felszabadulás 558
- Katonaság 3322
- Politika 2640
-
Kommunizmus
4468
- Élet a Szovjetunióban/kommunizmus alatt (általánosságban) 2592
- Antikommunista ellenállás általában 63
- Államosítás a kommunizmus alatt 221
- Illegális kommunista mozgalmak 98
- Szisztematikus rombolások a kommunizmus alatt 45
- Kommunista ünnepek 311
- A kommunista uralommal kapcsolatos érzések 930
- Kollektivizáció 94
- Az állami rendőrséggel kapcsolatos tapasztalatok 349
- Börtön/kényszermunka a kommunista/szocialista uralom alatt 449
- Az emberi és állampolgári jogok hiánya vagy megsértése 483
- Élet a rendszerváltás után (1989) 493
- Izrael / Palesztina 2190
- Cionizmus 847
- Zsidó szervezetek 1200
Displaying 46621 - 46650 of 50826 results
Edit Grossmann
![](/themes/custom/centro/flags/ro.svg)
I was promenading with a Hungarian boy a lot of time, with Gyula Kiraly, he was my suitor for a while. He visited us as well, we had a very good relationship with his entire family too, with his parents as well. Then, when the handing over occurred [the Second Vienna Dictate] [4], he came over here, in Hungary [Northern Transylvania], I think he went to Zilah.
He escaped, to be more precisely. He was even imprisoned, but he escaped again, he succeeded in it, and passed over.
He escaped, to be more precisely. He was even imprisoned, but he escaped again, he succeeded in it, and passed over.
There was an esplanade too, but it wasn’t like in Maramarossziget. People used to say that the Jewish esplanade was in Maramarossziget. On Saturdays only Jews were promenading, there were so many Jews in Maramarossziget. But not in our town, we all were promenading.
But you shouldn’t think the promenade lasted for long! I was walking only on Sundays, because I was working. But on Sundays I went to walk as well. We started to promenade at five in the after-noon, on the main square, from one corner to the other, then we crossed to that side where the EMKE café was, and we went round like this.
This was the esplanade. Everybody dressed up nicely, we looked very nice. The fashion was very nice back then, we wore suits and coats fitted to the waist, I had such a coat too, it was black-grey, its pockets stuck out and it had a little black fur collar. It looked nice.
But you shouldn’t think the promenade lasted for long! I was walking only on Sundays, because I was working. But on Sundays I went to walk as well. We started to promenade at five in the after-noon, on the main square, from one corner to the other, then we crossed to that side where the EMKE café was, and we went round like this.
This was the esplanade. Everybody dressed up nicely, we looked very nice. The fashion was very nice back then, we wore suits and coats fitted to the waist, I had such a coat too, it was black-grey, its pockets stuck out and it had a little black fur collar. It looked nice.
He met his wife in Szatmarnemeti, her name is Florica Milea. She was a divorced woman, she had a four years old daughter, Juliana, who is a dentist now in Nagyvarad. My son got a job in the Unio factory, I think this factory manufactures cranes for ships, for mines.
He started from the bottom, first he was a master, he was at the production section for a long time, then in 1990 he was appointed sales manager, and now director general.
He started from the bottom, first he was a master, he was at the production section for a long time, then in 1990 he was appointed sales manager, and now director general.
My son wanted to study medicine, and he was preparing for that. But if I cut down a hen, he became unwell when he saw blood. He couldn’t bear looking at it. He liked chicken so much, he was playing with them, I had to cook chicken in secret, so that he didn’t see it. He said: ‘Do you want me to eat the chicken leg?’ If it was chicken leg, I cut it into pieces, I told him it was ham.
That’s how he ate it. I could see he was a very sensitive child. A sensitive child is not cut out to be a physician. Later he realized this himself, he said: ‘Medicine is not suitable for me. I feel much too sorry for everybody.’ So he finished the university in Temesvar, he finished mechanical engineering.
That’s how he ate it. I could see he was a very sensitive child. A sensitive child is not cut out to be a physician. Later he realized this himself, he said: ‘Medicine is not suitable for me. I feel much too sorry for everybody.’ So he finished the university in Temesvar, he finished mechanical engineering.
They lived in Ktarsa [Kefar Sava?], my daughter had two schools there, she was teaching in a very religious school, and she had a part-time job in a less religious school too. She was very contented. She is a drawing teacher, she also paints, and she teaches children at home.
Recently they bought a house in Ghinot Shomron, because apartments were cheaper there, and my daughter wanted a house with garden by all means. Her husband works at the Schwartzkopff, he takes in the goods, and passes them on, he works on the computer.
Recently they bought a house in Ghinot Shomron, because apartments were cheaper there, and my daughter wanted a house with garden by all means. Her husband works at the Schwartzkopff, he takes in the goods, and passes them on, he works on the computer.
When my son-in-law comes here, he eats nothing in my house. He has some kosher canned food, but he has a week stomach, he eats boiled meat. But he’s very kosher, very religious. He has five siblings, Erika is on good terms with all of them. He’s a nice tall man, thanks God they are fine.
They didn’t want to stay in Moinesti, and my son-in-law got a job in Campina as an oil exploitation engineer, and Erika was employed in Ploiesti as a teacher. But somebody badmouthed my son-in-law – because that person needed that job – saying that his wife wanted to leave for Israel.
Though Erika didn’t want to. So they kicked him out from that employment in Campina. And so they decided to leave for Israel indeed. Erika graduated in Kolozsvar, and in those days she had spent much time with the chief rabbi, Rosen [14], with the choir. And she spoke with Rosen, she related him what the situation was. He answered that they should go to Bucharest, and it would be arranged there. Indeed, she got her passport in a very short time.
She left for Israel with her husband in 1975 or in 1976, but he didn’t like Israel, and he left for Australia. Erika said she wouldn’t go until they had an apartment, she wouldn’t like to drift. It was enough in Israel, she didn’t have an apartment for two years.
I went to Israel – this must have been at the end of the 1970s – so that my daughter wouldn’t be alone, and I told Erika: ‘Listen Erika, in my opinion you shouldn’t follow him. You have an employment here. You have an apartment with three rooms. You are settled. Why should you go out into world?
You’re not healthy, don’t go anywhere dear, stay here.’ She answered: ‘I don’t even think of going. What is in Australia that one can’t find in Israel?’ And my daughter sued for the divorce, and divorced him.
Though Erika didn’t want to. So they kicked him out from that employment in Campina. And so they decided to leave for Israel indeed. Erika graduated in Kolozsvar, and in those days she had spent much time with the chief rabbi, Rosen [14], with the choir. And she spoke with Rosen, she related him what the situation was. He answered that they should go to Bucharest, and it would be arranged there. Indeed, she got her passport in a very short time.
She left for Israel with her husband in 1975 or in 1976, but he didn’t like Israel, and he left for Australia. Erika said she wouldn’t go until they had an apartment, she wouldn’t like to drift. It was enough in Israel, she didn’t have an apartment for two years.
I went to Israel – this must have been at the end of the 1970s – so that my daughter wouldn’t be alone, and I told Erika: ‘Listen Erika, in my opinion you shouldn’t follow him. You have an employment here. You have an apartment with three rooms. You are settled. Why should you go out into world?
You’re not healthy, don’t go anywhere dear, stay here.’ She answered: ‘I don’t even think of going. What is in Australia that one can’t find in Israel?’ And my daughter sued for the divorce, and divorced him.
In fact I say mixed marriages aren’t good. First my daughter got married to a man from Bessarabia, in fact to a boy with Russian origins, he was a kerosene engineer [he worked in oil exploitation]. His name is Gigel Cernev.
My daughter was a drawing teacher, she got to Moinesti, she was placed there, they met there. Well I got to know how bad a mixed marriage was. When he visited us and asked for my daughter’s hand, I said: ‘No! You can shoot me in the head if you want to, but I won’t let my daughter marry you. She is unhealthy, not a rich girl, your family is rich, it won’t be a good match for you.
She has a Jewish suitor, she should marry that one.’ And my daughter went back to Moinesti, well she was employed, and she kept the wedding one week after, without me. He was a good boy, he wasn’t a bad boy, and it was a good family. He was the only child, and his parents were well off, his father was a physician, and his mother finished a university too.
My daughter was a drawing teacher, she got to Moinesti, she was placed there, they met there. Well I got to know how bad a mixed marriage was. When he visited us and asked for my daughter’s hand, I said: ‘No! You can shoot me in the head if you want to, but I won’t let my daughter marry you. She is unhealthy, not a rich girl, your family is rich, it won’t be a good match for you.
She has a Jewish suitor, she should marry that one.’ And my daughter went back to Moinesti, well she was employed, and she kept the wedding one week after, without me. He was a good boy, he wasn’t a bad boy, and it was a good family. He was the only child, and his parents were well off, his father was a physician, and his mother finished a university too.
My daughter, Erika Grossmann was born here, in Des on 10th March 1951. Erika’s Jewish name is Cserna after my husband’s mother. She was two and a half years old, when she was given an injection infected with tuberculosis, and she fell ill. She was very ill, her feet were swollen, they get swollen even today.
Erika attended the high school of arts in Kolozsvar, she had the first place at the exam. The school was in the Budai Nagy Antil street. She finished it, then she entered the university, she studied fine arts there, in Kolozsvar. She learnt many things, not just drawing.
She was writing poems, when she was in school she even participated at the Goga competition in Csucsa [Ciucea], where she was given the second prize. [Editor’s note: The Romanian poet Octavian Goga lived in Csucsa, his house functions today as a Goga memorial house.]
There wasn’t a first prize, and she won the second prize. She wrote many poems, and she sent them to newspapers, to the Albatros, she sent her poems to many places, and she was given a lot of money [for publication].
Erika attended the high school of arts in Kolozsvar, she had the first place at the exam. The school was in the Budai Nagy Antil street. She finished it, then she entered the university, she studied fine arts there, in Kolozsvar. She learnt many things, not just drawing.
She was writing poems, when she was in school she even participated at the Goga competition in Csucsa [Ciucea], where she was given the second prize. [Editor’s note: The Romanian poet Octavian Goga lived in Csucsa, his house functions today as a Goga memorial house.]
There wasn’t a first prize, and she won the second prize. She wrote many poems, and she sent them to newspapers, to the Albatros, she sent her poems to many places, and she was given a lot of money [for publication].
In 1949 they demolished our house, it was the first house in Des they demolished. We were that lucky. They demolished the whole pile, opposite to the cinema there were only Jewish houses, they demolished them all. They built a huge hotel there, and the complex [commercial center], the shops.
We got an apartment from the state, but it was given back to a Romanian priest, who inherited it. Then we rented from a Jew – from Berkovits –, but he behaved very rudely with me, the children weren’t allowed to go out – they were very small at that time –, he didn’t let me hang out the clothes, nothing.
We got an apartment from the state, but it was given back to a Romanian priest, who inherited it. Then we rented from a Jew – from Berkovits –, but he behaved very rudely with me, the children weren’t allowed to go out – they were very small at that time –, he didn’t let me hang out the clothes, nothing.
We didn’t have anything then either. But I wasn’t against it, only if they gave us to eat. Why didn’t Ceausescu [13] give us to eat? Who would have been angry of Ceausescu if people had something to put on the table, a woman had something to cook? You had to queue up at three at dawn to buy some milk.
This was revolting in communism. Otherwise we weren’t against it. I never went to shout, when we had to go out from the cooperative [Editor’s note: Edit Grossmann refers to the workers’ marches organized during communism], I hid and came home to work, I had a household, right?
However, if Ceausescu gave people to eat, nothing would have happened against him. After all, let an entire nation starve… Well of course, those who were closer to the meatball didn’t starve. And those who were sellers. But anyone else was staying half-a-day with their child in the arm to get half kilogram of sugar, and finally they went home with nothing.
One had to queue up for bread, at three in the night the light was turned up everywhere, we had to get up to go down and put in the queue our milk-bottle. Well, such nonsense.
This was revolting in communism. Otherwise we weren’t against it. I never went to shout, when we had to go out from the cooperative [Editor’s note: Edit Grossmann refers to the workers’ marches organized during communism], I hid and came home to work, I had a household, right?
However, if Ceausescu gave people to eat, nothing would have happened against him. After all, let an entire nation starve… Well of course, those who were closer to the meatball didn’t starve. And those who were sellers. But anyone else was staying half-a-day with their child in the arm to get half kilogram of sugar, and finally they went home with nothing.
One had to queue up for bread, at three in the night the light was turned up everywhere, we had to get up to go down and put in the queue our milk-bottle. Well, such nonsense.
There were several Zionist organizations, right-wing, left-wing, this was a left-wing Zionist organization, a workers’ organization. But it [his membership] didn’t last too long, the whole story lasted a few months, in 1946 or 1947. Then [after nationalization] [12] he restarted his profession, we kept on working as tailors in the cooperative.
When the cooperative was established, everybody had to close their workshop. We had two sewing machines, we handed in one of them. We had to do so, well, that’s how they could establish the cooperative. Everybody brought what they had, they brought machines, tables, chairs, all the junks, they brought there everything. First it had a different name, at the beginning it was the craftsmen’s cooperative, then it became the Cascom [Social Insurance and Pension Institute for Craftsmen's Cooperative].
I didn’t enroll the party. I wasn’t either for, either against communism. I was satisfied with the system, which allowed my children to learn, I didn’t have to pay for it, they both had a scholarship. We were badly off, I didn’t work, my daughter was ill, so I didn’t work. We were struggling.
When the cooperative was established, everybody had to close their workshop. We had two sewing machines, we handed in one of them. We had to do so, well, that’s how they could establish the cooperative. Everybody brought what they had, they brought machines, tables, chairs, all the junks, they brought there everything. First it had a different name, at the beginning it was the craftsmen’s cooperative, then it became the Cascom [Social Insurance and Pension Institute for Craftsmen's Cooperative].
I didn’t enroll the party. I wasn’t either for, either against communism. I was satisfied with the system, which allowed my children to learn, I didn’t have to pay for it, they both had a scholarship. We were badly off, I didn’t work, my daughter was ill, so I didn’t work. We were struggling.
After the war my husband inherited the house of his brother-in-law, of Mihaly Katz. We lived there, we had a tailor’s workshop too, a very elegant one, and we had a little textile warehouse. My husband was one of the best tailors in Des, and even so we were left with nothing. The communist regime came, we had to close the workshop, and they made my husband deputy mayor, in 1949, but only for a few months.
He was a very honest man, he didn’t come home, he was at the town hall day and night. And he was the first they kicked out. They said he was Zionist, they expelled him from the party too [10]. He was member to the labor Zionist organization, the Hashomer Hatzair [11].
He was a very honest man, he didn’t come home, he was at the town hall day and night. And he was the first they kicked out. They said he was Zionist, they expelled him from the party too [10]. He was member to the labor Zionist organization, the Hashomer Hatzair [11].
My husband told me that when he had been in Budapest for work service, people had been stopped on the street, and if they had been Jews, they had been taken to the banks of the Danube [9] and shot in the head. He jumped in a barrel, that’s how he escaped. But in that very moment he said to himself, if he ever had a son, he would never let them circumcise him.
There they were all put on a ship, and sank with that ship. Annus and her sister both died there. Annus was young, her sister was even younger, I think she had just finished high school. She [the first wife] had one more sister, Margit Fisch, she came home [from deportation], but died shortly of cardiac infarction. And a boy came home too, he died as well. None of them is alive. They were five, and not one lives. Within three years all of them passed away. They all died.
In fact at the time of deportations my husband wasn’t in Des, he was doing work service, only his wife and his family was in Bungur.
In fact at the time of deportations my husband wasn’t in Des, he was doing work service, only his wife and his family was in Bungur.
The first wife of my husband was a girl from Des, her name was Annus Mandel [she was born in 1920], she was a religious girl. She worked in a printing house. She didn’t have any children. She was pregnant, but she didn’t keep the baby, she had an abortion, well life was very hard at that time here, in Hungary [in Northern-Transylvania after 1940] and everywhere else, in whole Europe.
Her husband was taken to work service, and soon after she had an abortion. Annus was deported, she was together with her sister, Sasika in Auschwitz, but they were so unfortunate, in the last few months before liberation all the women were gathered from the concentration camp, some two thousands were left, and were taken to Riga.
Her husband was taken to work service, and soon after she had an abortion. Annus was deported, she was together with her sister, Sasika in Auschwitz, but they were so unfortunate, in the last few months before liberation all the women were gathered from the concentration camp, some two thousands were left, and were taken to Riga.
My husband was Fulop Grossmann, Srage was his Jewish name, we called him Feri. He was born near Nagyvarad, in Josasel [Editor’s note: in Hungarian Krajnikfalva, today in Romanian Josani, 73 km to south-east from Nagyvarad] in June 1910, but his family moved to Des, they lived here, his father was a merchant.
We organized the wedding in Nagyenyed, it was a usual wedding, with rabbi, with chupa, my husband broke the glass, they said: ‘Mazel tov’. I had a wedding dress, a white one, with a veil, my sister brought it in Marosujvar from a relative who was already married, and it suited me perfectly.
We didn’t take any photos, it wasn’t fashionable then. We organized something [a wedding], but the situation was very difficult at that time, one couldn’t buy anything after the war. But we had cabbage, we had meat-soup. We didn’t have cookies, because there wasn’t any sugar.
We made snow croissants, it didn’t need sugar. And there were a lot of grapes, because we had a Hungarian neighbor called Csaszar – we were on very good terms with that Csaszar family –, and he brought a huge wastebasket full of grapes – oh, but it was very good –, and he brought some delicious wine. That was all.
We didn’t take any photos, it wasn’t fashionable then. We organized something [a wedding], but the situation was very difficult at that time, one couldn’t buy anything after the war. But we had cabbage, we had meat-soup. We didn’t have cookies, because there wasn’t any sugar.
We made snow croissants, it didn’t need sugar. And there were a lot of grapes, because we had a Hungarian neighbor called Csaszar – we were on very good terms with that Csaszar family –, and he brought a huge wastebasket full of grapes – oh, but it was very good –, and he brought some delicious wine. That was all.
Mine too was an arranged marriage. My husband was married before the war, but one and a half year passed, and his wife didn’t return. He had a friend, who was a very good acquaintance to us, he was a very good friend to our family, and he told him: ‘Annus didn’t come back, I should get married. Isn’t there a girl in Nagyenyed, do you know anybody?’ ‘Oh there is, of course there is.’
‘What kind of girl is she?’ He says: ‘She comes from a religious family.’ ‘And is she working?’ ‘Of course, he says, tailoring – my husband was a tailor too –, she learnt the trade at her father’s. And she works for everybody in the town. She’s a skilful girl, clean, industrious; come and see.’ So he came to Nagyenyed, that’s how I met him. That’s how things were among Jews.
Today it’s ridiculous. My husband came, I can still picture him… At that time there were more young people in Nagyenyed, and I went to the social club, we were preparing a performance, a ball, a gathering. And mammy came and said: ‘Edit, come home, somebody came, a visitor.’ ‘Who? – I said – I won’t go.’
She says: ‘You must come; what should I tell him, that you don’t want to come, what would that look like?’ This happened in May 1946, and we got married in autumn. Daddy liked him a lot. Daddy said: ‘Edit, you shouldn’t marry no matter whom.
You should marry a man who is clever, who is a good expert, has a good profession, has a workshop, is proficient in tailoring; look how wonderful his suit is, he’s a great expert, he says, you should marry this man, there is no reason to be choosy.’ My husband was quite well of already at that time, well, I thought, dad was right indeed.
‘What kind of girl is she?’ He says: ‘She comes from a religious family.’ ‘And is she working?’ ‘Of course, he says, tailoring – my husband was a tailor too –, she learnt the trade at her father’s. And she works for everybody in the town. She’s a skilful girl, clean, industrious; come and see.’ So he came to Nagyenyed, that’s how I met him. That’s how things were among Jews.
Today it’s ridiculous. My husband came, I can still picture him… At that time there were more young people in Nagyenyed, and I went to the social club, we were preparing a performance, a ball, a gathering. And mammy came and said: ‘Edit, come home, somebody came, a visitor.’ ‘Who? – I said – I won’t go.’
She says: ‘You must come; what should I tell him, that you don’t want to come, what would that look like?’ This happened in May 1946, and we got married in autumn. Daddy liked him a lot. Daddy said: ‘Edit, you shouldn’t marry no matter whom.
You should marry a man who is clever, who is a good expert, has a good profession, has a workshop, is proficient in tailoring; look how wonderful his suit is, he’s a great expert, he says, you should marry this man, there is no reason to be choosy.’ My husband was quite well of already at that time, well, I thought, dad was right indeed.
Romania
Later my sister’s family moved to Nagyenyed, because the sister [Magda] and the mother of my brother-in-law left for Israel. They lived in Nagyenyed until dad died [in 1964], when they all left [my sister, her husband and their two sons] for Israel, in Jaffa, they took mammy too.
Before they left, he [my brother-in-law] was a leather trader, but he kept the accounts for the shop where he worked, and he became an accountant in Israel.
My sister’s husband was a very religious man, and he also knew all about it. And he started to teach my sister too [religion, Hebrew] at home, mainly before they left for Israel, and my sister was well up in it. Then she learnt Ivrit in Israel. But her husband died early of a cardiac infarct.
And she was left alone, with her sons, they got married, they are comfortable off. She has two sons, one of them is Efraim, the other is Smulik. Miriam died exactly two years ago [in July 2003], it is Yahrtzeit.
Before they left, he [my brother-in-law] was a leather trader, but he kept the accounts for the shop where he worked, and he became an accountant in Israel.
My sister’s husband was a very religious man, and he also knew all about it. And he started to teach my sister too [religion, Hebrew] at home, mainly before they left for Israel, and my sister was well up in it. Then she learnt Ivrit in Israel. But her husband died early of a cardiac infarct.
And she was left alone, with her sons, they got married, they are comfortable off. She has two sons, one of them is Efraim, the other is Smulik. Miriam died exactly two years ago [in July 2003], it is Yahrtzeit.
After the war ended, my sister’s family lived in Marosujvar for a while. I was visiting my sister in Marosujvar, the [Jewish] youth gathered, and we wanted to dance a little, but not a modern dance, but a Zionist dance, like today’s ‘sarba’, the hora.
The rabbi didn’t permit it, he came and made such a big scene... He said: ‘A boy must not dance with a girl, it’s forbidden.’ And he sent us away. The next day my brother-in-law comes and says: ‘Picture that, the rabbi left. The rabbi fled. He left.’ ‘Well – I say – truly he was playing the great religious man, he didn’t let us dance, and now he went abroad.’ He was the first Jew from Marosujvar who left after the war.
The rabbi didn’t permit it, he came and made such a big scene... He said: ‘A boy must not dance with a girl, it’s forbidden.’ And he sent us away. The next day my brother-in-law comes and says: ‘Picture that, the rabbi left. The rabbi fled. He left.’ ‘Well – I say – truly he was playing the great religious man, he didn’t let us dance, and now he went abroad.’ He was the first Jew from Marosujvar who left after the war.
But life was very hard those days. The Hungarians were sweeping out Nagyenyed, they dropped bombs on it. Just a few, but they did. There was an aircraft, all the time wooooo… We all hid. We were in the cave, but I didn’t want to go down the cave, I didn’t like it. I, dad and my brother-in-law fled. People said Jewish men should leave, flee, because they would get killed.
In 1944 first the Hungarians came in to Marosludas, Marosujvar. And the entire family came to us from Marosujvar to Nagyenyed. The father-in-law, the mother-in-law of my sister, their daughter, Magda (the sister-in-law of my sister) came. And my sister and my brother-in-law came – he had returned from Kolozsbozs –, and they already had their son, Efraim. Frai, that’s how we called him.
Frai was little, three months old. And well, they were terribly religious people, we couldn’t receive them no matter how. They arrived on a Friday, we hardly had time to cook for Sabbath, because on Sabbath we don’t cook.
But thanks’ God, they didn’t come in to Nagyenyed, the Hungarian army got at a distance of six kilometers from Nagyenyed, because very soon after that the Russian came in, and repelled the Hungarian troops.
Frai was little, three months old. And well, they were terribly religious people, we couldn’t receive them no matter how. They arrived on a Friday, we hardly had time to cook for Sabbath, because on Sabbath we don’t cook.
But thanks’ God, they didn’t come in to Nagyenyed, the Hungarian army got at a distance of six kilometers from Nagyenyed, because very soon after that the Russian came in, and repelled the Hungarian troops.
We didn’t know anyhting in Romania about the deportation [in Hungary]. All we knew was that Jews were gathered in ghettos, in the brick factory in Kolozsvar. We knew that. But dad wouldn’t believe it. Because dad, since he was a soldier in the Hungarian army [in the time of the Monarchy], and he was from Hungary, he didn’t believe that such thing could happen.
He said this was impossible, Hungarian Jews always supported Hungary, they were like Hungarians. Dad didn’t believe it. That’s how he was. Very slowly, when they [the deported] came [after World War Two] and told us. Well they came to Nagyenyed too, they came to visit families, and they told how it had been, and what had happened, so we found out everything.
He said this was impossible, Hungarian Jews always supported Hungary, they were like Hungarians. Dad didn’t believe it. That’s how he was. Very slowly, when they [the deported] came [after World War Two] and told us. Well they came to Nagyenyed too, they came to visit families, and they told how it had been, and what had happened, so we found out everything.
It meant a struggle, because I had to go to the caserne at seven in the morning, I came home at noon, I took lunch, I typed a little, and back to the caserne until seven or eight in the evening, it depended when the master would let me go. But many tailors were gathered there in that caserne in Nagyenyed, tailors from the entire country.
In 1943 daddy was taken to Szaszsebes, he had to go to the army as a tailor for more than one year. He took the [sewing] machine with him to Szaszsebes, and I had to borrow a machine so that I could work at home. In those days I was even called in to the army in Nagyenyed, I worked there too.
I had a great luck. A tailor from Tovis accepted to make the clothing of all the railway employees. It meant a lot of work. He knew I could make trousers very well, and he gave me the orders for trousers for the stationmasters and for the traffic manager. I worked in our workshop, and I went to the army as well.
I had a great luck. A tailor from Tovis accepted to make the clothing of all the railway employees. It meant a lot of work. He knew I could make trousers very well, and he gave me the orders for trousers for the stationmasters and for the traffic manager. I worked in our workshop, and I went to the army as well.
At that time one couldn’t travel, in Romania they didn’t let Jews get up the train, the bus [7]. We had an acquaintance, a Hungarian woman, she could travel, and she brought the packages for the Jews – there were boys from Nagyenyed too, who worked there –, we paid her travel costs, we gave her something, and she traveled there.
We prepared packages every week, and sent them. As much as we could. That’s how we sent daddy too the packages, while he had to work, we always sent him too some scones, this or that, what one could give them.
We prepared packages every week, and sent them. As much as we could. That’s how we sent daddy too the packages, while he had to work, we always sent him too some scones, this or that, what one could give them.
I wasn’t there, but I saw it once, I was at a wedding, and I saw this. Hasidim do dance, but they mustn’t dance with girls. They are holding the handkerchief, they dance like that. But here in Nagyenyed it was not a custom, Nagyenyed wasn’t a much too religious town, like Des for example, or like Marosujvar.
In Nagyenyed we danced like others, a tango, because tango was fashionable then, they invited a Gypsy band, the bride or the groom hired them. But it was nice. These were old things, but nice things. Formerly it was nice, but it makes me laugh what it is today.
In Nagyenyed we danced like others, a tango, because tango was fashionable then, they invited a Gypsy band, the bride or the groom hired them. But it was nice. These were old things, but nice things. Formerly it was nice, but it makes me laugh what it is today.
It was nice. The rabbi from Marosujvar conducted the service. The groom’s family was so religious, that the rabbi from Nagyenyed wasn’t competent enough for them, and they brought the rabbi from Marosujvar. And when the ceremony was over, the groom broke the glass: he threw it down and trampled on it, they said ‘Mazel tov’, and there were about three Gypsies, they begun to play.
And we had dinner, and that was it. At that time they ate golden soup [meat-soup], that’s how they called it, it was very fatty, today it’s good for cholesterol. Usually people danced at weddings, on Jewish music, Hungarian music, it depended what kind of music one had on their wedding.
We didn’t dance at all at my sister’s wedding, there was no dancing. It was impossible to dance, war was going on. Usually Jews from Marosujvar didn’t dance, because they were very religious, they didn’t dance anything else but those ancient Jewish dances, with handkerchief.
And we had dinner, and that was it. At that time they ate golden soup [meat-soup], that’s how they called it, it was very fatty, today it’s good for cholesterol. Usually people danced at weddings, on Jewish music, Hungarian music, it depended what kind of music one had on their wedding.
We didn’t dance at all at my sister’s wedding, there was no dancing. It was impossible to dance, war was going on. Usually Jews from Marosujvar didn’t dance, because they were very religious, they didn’t dance anything else but those ancient Jewish dances, with handkerchief.