Holocaust Remembrance
The heavy black boots were thundering down the long corridor of our apartment building. These black draped Nazis were wild with anger and hatred that day. Hatred for the Jewish families who lived in this apartment building and the Jewish families who lived in apartment buildings throughout cities in all of Europe. That day they were intent on capturing innocent Jewish people- even little children. This event was in the summer of 1942, when the Nazis were initiating intense and broad sweeping vicious round ups all over Europe.
The Nazis used their strong leather boots to kick down the doors along the corridors. They pounded the doors with the butts of their rifles, crashing the doors open giving the evil attackers access to the stairs that led to the apartments of the Jewish families. The heavy wooden doors popped and splintered and the invaders quickly ran up the stairs, shouting and screaming as they rounded up and captured these families- Jewish people who had survived from ancient timeframes. These fine Jewish people had contributed heavily to many civilizations for over a thousand years: they impacted science, medicine, higher education, the field of music, government and had produced a massive number of created inventions. In recent time, Anti Jewish laws had stripped these people of their dignity and respect: The Nazis had declared they were stateless and they were regarded as having no value. The Nuremberg laws made it clear that the Jewish people were not allowed to be in German life. Their homes, land, businesses and educated positions in society were stolen from them, just ripped away as well as their personal possessions: art collections, jewels, silver and china.
The round up that day affected my mother in such a negative manner and actually added more fright to her daily life. That round up was so very dismal because the “dirty” Germans were reaping hundreds of Jewish people. Follow-up sweeps would render additional hundreds more families to be packed into diseased and filthy cattle cars for rail travel to concentration camps and death. Their cries of despair as they were marched into the streets were heart wrenching. Some were carrying suitcases, some were half clothed, and many were just managing their little children and a sack of food. The sick and elderly were struggling, staggering, crying. The Nazi’s used their weapons to push and prod people to move faster in spite of their physical and emotional conditions.
At the height of this monstrous chaos, my mother was holding me tightly. At the same time, she placed her finger on her lips and began whispering in my ear “You must be very quiet darling, very very quiet. Do not cry. Do not cry. I will keep you safe. The bad men are close to us so you must not cry. Do not make any noise, we do not want them to come into our home.” My mother had taught me to stop talking or making noise when she placed her first finger on her lips. I followed that gesture perfectly. I knew I had to be quiet, absolutely silent.
The door from the hall to our upstairs apartment was a solid heavy wooden door with a glass transom at the top. Our door was locked just as all of the other doors in the building. A miracle occurred- the German Nazis crashed down all of the other doors except our door. Truly a miracle occurred. We were safe for one more day.
I was two years old at that time. Mother had been protecting me since my birth. She had witnessed too many death events initiated by these explosive Nazis hidden in black uniforms. She had been feeling fairly protected because she had dark brown hair, a typical German look. And she had another layer of protection- me. I had very blond hair thus she felt safe with my Aryan physical features. She called me her yellow star and carried me on her left side where she should have attached a yellow cloth star.
This close brush with capture and death was more ferocious than any actions previously endured. The round up that day convinced my mother that she must locate one hundred percent safety and protection for me. That meant locating an underground system to hide me. Mother would have to part with me.
I want to tell you the story of my young life and inform you about my courageous, strong and brilliant mother, my biological father, whom I did not know, and my wonderful step father. I want to relate how the horrible war affected our lives before, during and after Hitler unleashed his world plan.
My mother, Norma Gellman, was born in Vienna on October 9, 1902 and eventually she became one of five siblings: four sisters and one brother. After my grandmother died, during child birth, my grandfather remarried and three more boys were born into the family. Thus, my mother accepted the responsible for raising this large family of children and managing the household when she was just 16 years old. She was the organizer, the shopper, the educator, the laundress, cook, baker and life protector. She lost the carefree teen years and became evenloped in drudgery work for her family.
Perhaps that environment made her stronger than her siblings. She had a firm personality and a high level of determination, she never wore the yellow star. She refused to wear the yellow star! She just had an aura of authority that swirled around her and she knew just how to work the system, to maneuver around the Nazis. Her bravery. Confidence and high intellect guided her efforts to avoid capture and keep me hidden and safe. She guided her siblings from childhood into adulthood as she compensated for the tragedies of the war, the interruption of education for family members and her own desire for a higher educational experience.
My grandfather was from Galicia. This area was near the border of eastern Poland and Ukraine. Galicia was considered the site of Jewish learning thus, many Jewish people traveled there to live, study and enjoy a higher level of living and learning. Grandfather arranged for my mother’s marriage in 1934, selecting a husband for he without her participation and approval. This marriage was in place for less than one year with divorce occurring in 1935.
Grandfather was not happy with the activities of his three boys. In an effort to improve their attitude and behavior, he arranged for them to travel to Palestine to adopt an improved life style. Thus three of my mother’s siblings left Vienna.
At that time, Vienna Austria was a remarkable city, sparkling, glittering and bursting with fine art and music, gourmet foods, frolicking events and parties., intellectual gatherings and great social interchanges. Going to Vienna was similar to going to a Golden City. In the past, the Kaisers had given Jewish people full citizenship. Jewish people flocked there, joined the intellectual society, the circles of medicine, mathematics, the political scene, added to the Vienna life style and became Viennese, became Austrians. Slowly, Hitler’s ideal pure Aryan race bubbled in, then exploded with the new laws and robbed the Jewish people of dignity, position, business, education, actually their entire existence. This crazy slick monster slithered in, attacked, trapped and blocked the Jewish people from breathing.
The Austrian people became incrementally cruel to the Jewish people, hunting them, arresting them, throwing them to the Nazis to be transported to death camps. They murdered people who had lived in Austria for hundreds of years. They had been well integrated into the communities.
With the Germans now in command my mother’s life and those of her siblings, were at risk and danger was faced every day. The Austrians hated the Jewish people and initiated many more actions to eliminated them. In this time frame, the Germans were causing great chaos. The Nazi invasions became more incessantly vicious. For their safety, mother began moving her other siblings out of the now dreaded and dreadful Austria. At one time, Austria was regarded as our beautiful home country, now, our home country was dangerous and we would be lucky if we could escape. The Nazi’s destroyed life for the Jewish residents in Austria. Mother began plans to move the entire family from our home country. She was determined to leave Vienna as quickly as arrangements could be made.
One of her brothers lived in NY in the Bronx. First she arranged for visas through her brother. He served as a sponsor for the siblings, arranging routes to get them out, one by one.
Moving her sister and family was easier. Her brother in law owned land in Palestine. This ownership allowed her sister’s family to travel to Palestine without the interference of and permission of the British, who controlled the movement into that country. One of their two daughters traveled to England on the Kindertrain and was placed in a foster home. The older daughter preferred to remain with her parents. That decision ended in sadness as this daughter accidentally drowned in a river near their home. Quite surprising, the Nazi’s allowed for the child to be buried in a Church cemetery with a headstone erected on the grave. Burial of a Jewish person and placing a headstone on the grave was the most unusual during the war years. The headstone displayed her name and also the Jewish star.
With the siblings safe, she found an avenue for herself, leaving Vienna in March of 1939, and escaping to Antwerp Belgium, where she met my biological father. Born in July 19, 1895, in Budapest, Hungary, my biological father worked as an airplane mechanic for 25 years and into the World War I years. He went to the US in 1926-1927 remaining there for only one year before returning to Vienna. We never learned why he went to the United States.
Due to the anti-Jewish actions in Austria, my biological father also moved to Antwerp Belgium and as you know, this is where he eventually met my mothers. After a friendship in Antwerp, my parents were married in a religious wedding ceremony. In Europe, the only recognized marriage ceremony was s civil ceremony performed by a Justice of the Peace. However, my parents could not be married in a Civil Service, because of the Nazi occupation. This type of ceremony would expose them directly to the Nazis. To be married, they participated in a religious ceremony.
Antwerp was my place of birth on August 19, 1940. Soon after my birth, my father was arrested as an illegal immigrant and was placed with a group of men and sent directly to Drancy, France, a suburb just outside Paris. From Drancy, he was deported to a concentration camp, Auschwitz in early 1944.
Now that my father was in a concentration camp and assumed dead, my mother was now all alone and was faced with the ever increasing difficult responsibility of keeping an active growing child hidden from the ever increasing actions of the Nazis. What would happen to this baby if she were to be arrested?
My mother had already been approached by friends begging her to seek an underground hiding place for me. She was a strong woman, brave and courageous. Her life had been difficult and she had experiences in facing difficult situation and resolving them. She had not been concerned about her own safety, however, this last episode with the Nazis caused her to re-evaluate my safety. She began seeking a safe place for me, where I would be well cared for and protected. She and her friends knew the Nazis would soon appear again at our apartment and they would joyously round up those families they had missed. The Nazis pursued every Jewish person, the young and the old. Mother arranged to travel to Brussels to seek a safe place to work and a safe place to hide me.
My mother had to have money for living expenses and yet she had to rmain obscure to avoid capture by the Nazis. She earned money as a Viennese cook and baker and was able to remain hidden. Because of my mother’s kills, her jobs and help from friends, she avoided capture. Soon she was provided the name of an elementary teacher who was working with the Catholic underground system that focused on hiding children. This teacher, Mary Anne worked with an underground system that included five organizations. Their success rate was impressive so she placed me in the Sisters of Mercy Creche that actually served as an orphanage.
Immediately upon entering the Creche we were indoctrinated with specific rules for our own safety and we submitted to the one requirement- immediate Baptism into the Catholic church. This process helped to protect the children. Because we were baptized, the nuns could tell the Nazis- We have no Jewish children here. When the Nazis visited which was frequent, we all were harassed, the priests, the nuns, the care givers and the children. Our brave protectors prepared us for those invasive sessions with the German interrogators, they helped us quickly memorize specific prayers and doctrines as further protections from the Nazis. And we were given new names. We were taught what to say and how to say what we were taught. No Yiddish was allowed , of course. That language would be a quick identification that we were Jewish. My name was not changed because it sounded like a solid Belguim name and German was my mother tongue.
Since the Catholic religion was my first formal religion and presented during my formative years, those prayers and the Latin Mass ceremony have always been part of my life. They are familiar and comforting for me. There were many adolescent girls in the underground system who helped care for us and they helped us learn the prayers, how to recall our new names and kept us reviewing memorized doctrines. These strategies were important to reinforce and protect us when the Nazis invaded and questioned the nuns.
During that young age, I spoke several languages- German, French, and Flemish. I developed many survival mechanisms using those languages. Perhaps because of this early exposure to languages, they have always been easy for me to acquire and new languages have been quickly added.
There was no information regarding where I was hidden. The location was not even revealed to my mother. The underground organizational system was extremely cautious and secretive. The administration used a three book system as a record keeping format. Information about each child was spread across three different record books in attempts to hide us, our identity, and location. The nuns and teachers who cared for the children had developed an excellent secret system of hiding our identity.
These totally secret and crucial tasks were constant tension and great anxiety for the parents of the children and also packed with fear for the people hiding the children. The actions of the rescuers took great courage. Initial meetings with the parents were carefully planned to be sure the parents were not followed. The organizational tasks were many and performed with absolute discretion and absolute secrecy to safeguard the security of the children that were hidden.
The offices performed under similar guidelines: the office was divided into an external and an internal office. The internal office established the day to day files numerically, took care of the accounting and of the correspondance. The job of the exterior office was to know by heart the real names of each child, the war names, the number of files and the addresses of each child. The operation of this system was a monumental task. The staff in charge of delivery money, good clothes, food stamps had to memorize the names and addresses.
Memories from this time frame of my life are dim and most are non-existent. I do recall that my caregivers were kind. Most of these caregivers were nuns. I thought they looked like swans because they wore the very large white hats with wings on the sides of the hats. To a child my age, these flappy wings looked like the wings of a swam and I was fascinated with those winged hats. There are two vivid memories that survived- there was not much food and I was always hungry. I recall my abdomen being very extended and the remainder of my body was thin and bony- signs of malnutrician.
The second vivid memory- never to be forgotten- was a trip to the office of a physician in Brussels. I had a sore throat, was very ill and unable to eat. One of the caregivers at the Creche took me to a physician’s office. The physician examined me and checked my throat to discover infected tonsils. He told the caregiver my tonsils had to be removed immediately. He removed my tonsils in his office! The doctor used a primitive method to administer the anesthesia. A cloth was placed over my nostrils and small amounts of the anesthesia were dripped onto that cloth. The drip method cut the pain somewhat, however, that sharp memory (still lingering) is a vivid unpleasant and unforgettable episode from my young life as a hidden child. No Jewish boy would ever be taken to the hospital for surgery. The Jewish people accepted the fact that no Jewish boy would ever be given appropriate professional medical treatment.
After I was placed in the underground child care, Mother lived safely with friends for about six months, when disaster loomed. A neighbor began to be suspicious and she was in trouble. Quickly, another friend located a pharmacist who volunteered to take my mother into his home. There she cooked for the family and was safely hidden until the end of the war. She was an excellent Viennese cook and baker and she was much appreciated by this family.
After the war was over, she began to search for me. She engaged the Jewish resistance in Brussels to investigate if I survived and where I was hidden. Through the Catholic Social Service I was found and reunited with my mother. That network had placed me in a very positive environment as I was well cared for and happy. I do not recall being reunited with my mother. I had forgotten her during the war years and was very happy in the orphanage. Because the country was in such chaos and she still had to work, she was persuaded to place me in foster care. I was now five years old. I do have memories of that phase of my childhood. I was in a wonderful setting for this transitional time. I loved my pretend uncle and aunt and their daughter who was 18 at the time. I was completely happy with my family and never wanted to leave them.
Mother’s work schedule did not provide time for her to care for me. The foster family loved me and did not want me to leave their home and I did not want to leave them. I was so happy with them. An arrangement was put in place for me to remain with this family. Mother would visit me when possible.
This was a stable, happy and delightful family I lived with. Their house was located in a beautiful setting similar to a cul de sac, a small square, hidden off the main road. Since the home was off the main road, the German Gestapo passed that square and never looked in those houses. For the next 18 months, I lived with that family, from age 5-61/2 years. Then I began seeing a new personality on weekends- my mom. She was not “mom” however, she was just another person in my happy life. There was not personal history associated in my regard for my mom. I could not go back to the mom and child bonded time frame. For safety purposes I went through a training program with the nuns when I entered the orphanage. This program effectively worked to erase my immediate past with my mom. The children in the orphanage could not be allowed to recall their past life- with parents, with their religion, their language or any remnants of a former life as a Jewish person. The focus was working with the children to adopt a new identity. That former life was quickly replaced with the nuns, scurrying around to care for us and the many children who at first sounded like an international convention, a cocophony of language sounds. My little roommates were from many different countries displaying many different languages.
When my step father entered our lives again, the war was finally over. He had returned from a concentration camp. My step father Paul and his best friend Max were survivors of Auschwitz. Paul’s number was 145 and Max was 146.
Paul and Max survived in Auschwitz through minute by minute struggles. My father was a hunk of a guy, tall, physically strong and had a determined personality. These qualities gave him strength and abilities to buoy Max through difficult times in Auschwitz. They were a team. Fortunately, they were rescued and freed by Russian soldiers. Paul endured the concentration camp, however, he was physically deteriorated and was hospitalized for an extended time frame. Eventually he settled in Brussels again. Max joined him in that city.
My step father and Max gathered at a local club in Brussels, the Nor Club. This club was popular meeting spot for Jewish people before the war. After the war it was increasingly more popular and important as families were desperate for information about their missing family members. Young people gathered there to eat, talk, and exchange their war experiences and new friendships were cemented. Lists of missing and found persons were posted at the Nor Club, thus people flocked there for news of their missing friends and family members. This club provided an important service for the Jewish people, serving as a valuable information exchange.
My mother began working at this club after the war, in the kitchen department again using her cooking skills. This was the time frame when my mother met my step father Pauland of course his friend Max. They began entereing my life with especially enjoyable weekend visits engineered by Max. He was a very kind and generous person who planned great excursions for me.
Those weekends were actually wonderful adventures. During the six and one half years of war. I was hidden, not allowed outside the orphanage or the foster home. All of the children had to be hidden from the Nazis and their greed for Jewish people to kill even little children. Thus I was sheltered from the world outside my house. Being able to step outside the house as a little child was an introduction to a new world, to people, actions, motion, new sounds, the wind and rain. Venturing out of my home was a shocking experience. A world was introduced to me that I had not experienced. Paul and Max displayed a world to me that I did not even know existed.
When Max took me to the beach, it was unbelievable new world. We played games, we walked and ran, enjoyed picnics and sometimes Max’s friend, Frieda also came with us. We three played often and I became a part of their lives- occasionally mother could join us, and also Paul. Max was an excellent soccer player, a marvelous story teller, an oral journalist who actually became part of our family. Soon lovely Frieda and Max fell in love and married. Frieda had miraculously survived the experiments of Dr. Mengele, the famous Nazi Doctor who cruelly experimented on twins, women and many other groups of people. Mengele caused millions of deaths.
Dr. Mengele was an enthusiast of the plans to create a Master race, Hitler’s plan to rid Germany and German controlled territories of people who did not fit his vision of a healthy and ethnically homogenous community.
As our family adjusted to a new life, I recall wonderful times with my parents and Max and Frieda. Mother wanted to see her siblings who had traveled to the US during the war. Plans were outlined for mother and I to travel to the land of plenty. Mother went to Antwerp, which was a point of departure, to obtain a visa. How disappointing to learn that Visas were not being offered. After much searching she finally managed to get a visa from the Japanese! At that time, the Japanese were sympathetic to the Jewish people and offered visas. However, she had to travel to Shanghai, a Chinese port captured by the Japanese to obtain the visa, and then travel to a part of departure- Rotterdam. Thus on December 31, 1946 when I was six and one half years old, we boarded a freighter at Rotterdam and traveled to Galveston, Texas. An uncle, a younger sibling of my mothers who had already been living in the states, met us in Galveston. My step father could not join us at this time. However, cemented traveling plans to America when he could obtain a visa. Arranging for Paul to join us in the states took another three years because of several complications.
I loved the trip to the United States. The ship was exciting to explore and I explored every corner, even the most dangerous places on the ship. I had excess energy in those days and engaged in thought and action every minute. Perhaps I was hyper active: perhaps I had some symptons of ADHD. Especially enjoyable was self initiated conversations with the ship’s crew members. They answered a thousand questions that I proposed.
Despite the inclement weather during the voyage, I was continually exploring. I climbed on the ladders and towers and investigated the “off limits and dangerous” areas of the ship- even during the stormy days. Even during dangerously rough days at sea, I was on the deck observing the treacherous sea.
We arrived in Big America! Our family traveled to New York by train and joined my mother’s family- my two uncles and an aunt, my mother’s youngest sister. There were five living in that small apartment from 1947-1951. These were economically rough times for the family. We all spoke German at home, listened to Yiddish language on the radio and spoke English in public.
In was immediately placed in school in January of 1947. I attended Public School 181 in NYC. My teacher was wonderful very understanding and she knew the important secretes of effective teaching and learning. Her method and personality encouraged me to excel academically. She asked questions in French and I answered in English. This was an effective way to learn English- a new language to add to my repertoire of languages. By April, I was speaking fluent English.
My mother was enthusiastic and firm about my educational plans. She wanted a complete and refined education for me and she carefully attended to many focus points in my studies. She also wanted me to have a Jewish experience and enrolled me in Yeshiva, a Jewish elementary school from grades 2 to 6. This experience added another new language, Hebrew. The morning classes were in Hebrew and afternoon in English. That experience thoroughly completed the religious component of my education. My mother was determined for me to be well educated and planned for my Jewish education. My parents insisted that I attend the Jewish school every day and the synagogue every week- however they stayed at home. When I was ready for the 7th grade, I rebelled against my parents. I refused to return to the Yeshiva. I was simply finished with my Jewish education.
Additionally my mother knew the importance of music education. So many Jewish artists had been murdered thus it was so important to educate Jewish children to be musicians and excel in the arts. She arranged for me to work with a violin teacher a very fine teacher. So at age 9, I was introduced to Ms. Rosen, a classic musician who had arrived in the United States before 1938. She lived in a gorgeous apartment overlooking Central Park West at 92nd Street. She was influential in instilling a love for music and incorporating it as a major segment of my life.
I walked to Ms. Rosen’s alone without my mother. She just told me where to go- and what subway to take. After two years of study, I walked to the Henry street settlement which was downtown to join an orchestra. As age 11, I walked to orchestra practice from 163 and Broadway, a ten block walk. Soon I was a bona fide member of an orchestra led by Dr. Rector who had assembled this fine orchestra. I so enjoyed performing, studying music seriously, and becoming a member of the orchestra.
In the sixth grade, I had the very best teachers and benefited from a staff of experienced administers. My teacher, Mrs. Murphy, had a firm command of the class. I was still studying French, still in the orchestra and the boy scouts- very intelligent mother carefully planned important activities for me to be prepared for a variety of well coordinated life experiences.
I auditioned to enter a high school that focused on Music and Art education. One hundred students were accepted and I was one of those selected students. This special High School was nine hours of study each day with 3-4 hours each day devoted to the study of music. The remaining hours were devoted to study the academics. My mother continued to work long hours. Her skills as a superb cook and baker put her in demand. In the summer time she was invited to work at jobs in the Catskills in New York and enjoyed recognition as an outstanding cook for fine foods.
Making arrangements for my step father to come to America was laborious. A cousin voched for him in a financial manner, which was still required by the government which stretched the process through three years before he actually arrived in the US. Paul was highly intelligent, very skilled in languages. My step father was a marvelous story teller. At family gatherings he talked about the war, he often told about his experiences with the Nazis in the concentration camps. During that time, not many survivors discussed those difficult and scary times when the Nazis were in control, murdering Jewish people and rounding them up for death and work camps. Paul openly related stories about life in the camps and the atrocities performed by the Nazis.
My education was continued with undergraduate studies at NYU where I was also a member of the orchestra. After undergraduate work was completed, I moved back to Belguim, where I had been hidden as a child during the war, and attended the French section of the University of Belgium. There were two sections, French and Flemish located on different campuses. This is a unique university, very old, very fine actually the second oldest papal university in the world.
I met my wife on a blind date during graduate school in New York. After dinner on one of our first dates. I was excited to introduce her to one of my good friends. We went to his home for this first introduction. When we arrived, he had invited his wife to his home to also meet Ellen. What a shock we all experienced when Ellen was introduced and his wife was one of Ellen’s good friends. The evening was delightful as we had not been unaware of that situation. After our marriage, we moved to Brussels for the MD educational years. Ellen, now my wife, worked in Brussels for the MD educational years. Ellen, now my wife, worked in Brussels at a large corporate firm. After completing the medical degree at the University of Belgium we returned to New York and I entered my medical career.
