Elsie Schwartz was 88 years old when I interviewed her to record her life memories and stories. When we finished, she said, “My story wouldn't be complete if I didn't tell you how lucky I am to have a family who loves me and shows it. The world is a very different place from the one I grew up in, in Hungary in the 1910s and '20s. But family and love are still so important.” Elsie passed away when she was 95. This is Part I of excerpts highlighting her early life in Hungary.
“My paternal grandparents' names were Itzak and Sarah Guttmann. My grandparents had two sons. My father's name was Jacob and he was born in 1877 and he had a younger brother, Joe.
They lived in Nyiradony, Hungary and the family had a very large tobacco-growing business.
It was a small town, and they were very prominent, wealthy people. They were some of the few Jewish people at the time that owned any sort of land or property. The Jews usually didn't, but my grandfather had acquired it. They were much liked, and they were very Orthodox.
My father had an education, at least, as much as they had there. I knew he wrote beautifully and, of course, he had his Hebrew education because of his religion.
My father as a young man would travel on his horse all over the area for the business.
Whenever there was a war going on in Europe, they would call in any fellows that became 21 to go for service. They had this even when it wasn't wartime and then they would have to serve in the army for many years. So, when my father turned 21, my grandfather went to the chief rabbi to ask him to please see how he could get my father not to go to war, because my father was running the business.
The rabbi said to him, “Go home. Don't worry; he won't go.”
Within a couple of days, my grandfather caught a bad cold and died. The family was very religious, and they claimed that this happened because the rabbi didn't say to my grandfather, (in Yiddish) “Travel in good health; all is well.” So, my grandfather didn't travel in good health.
My father didn't have to go into the service, because now that his father was dead, they needed him at home.
Not much after that, my grandmother also died. They were not old people, either, because my father was only 21. So, my father remained with the farm and took care of it.
My maternal grandparents were Hyman and Leah Levendel. They lived in Halmi. It so happened that this town was considered a little Jerusalem. On the outskirts of the town they had the goyim, and inside the town they had a lot of very prominent Jewish families that had a lot of money.
My mother’s name was Regina.
My grandfather was a distiller; he made alcohol. I remember one thing about the business very well, because they told it to me so many times: They would have to work with decimal points, in order to see how many drops of one thing or another to use in the distilling process. My grandfather had several men working for him, and when they had a problem with the math, they would say, “Call Regina,” and my mother would multiply in her head. In fact, she did that for me when I was going to school. When I had to work with decimal points, she would stand over me and give me the answer. I would say, “Ma, how do you know this?” She said, “I did this with alcohol!”
My mother was studious and she had an education, which was not common for girls. I think in those days a girl would have tutors rather than going to a school. Besides Hungarian and Yiddish, my mother spoke German fluently,
My mother was 17 and my father was 22 when they met. In those days, the shadchen, or the matchmaker, would come and say, “You're a wonderful girl, and I'd like you to meet this boy,” and they would travel to another town to meet each other. It was okay, so they got married, and my father took my mother to Debrecen, a Hungarian town.
My brother, Emery, was born in 1901, my sister, Irene, was born in 1903 and my brother, Louis, was born in 1906.
In 1909, there was a lot of talk about America, and my father said, “I don't think I want to keep doing this; I'm going to go to America to see if it is the Golden Land as they say, and if I like it, I will bring the family there.”
He was in America for a short time and then he wrote to my mother that he wanted to sell the land they had in Hungary. However, there was no way that my mother could sell it because, in those years, the wives did not hold any property of any kind. The house was in my father's name and the land was in my father's name, so he had to come home. He was home for about two years, and then he sold everything.
I was born in 1910, and my brother Hymie was born eleven months after that, in 1911.
When I was about two years old, my father went back to America in order to get the papers we needed.
War broke out when I was four.
My father was unable to send us anything and we couldn’t be in touch with him. Of course, the house was sold and we had nothing. My mother packed and we went to live with my uncle Joe.
He also had a very big farm. I distinctly remember all of the geese. Also, Uncle Joe had someone come to help him from Russia who was very well-known in making honey, so my uncle had wild honey bees all over the place. It was a very nice time, being on the farm as a child.
My mother’s brother, Adolf, had a mill nearby and the farmers would bring in the wheat and he would make flour out of it. It was big business.
He had a large piece of equipment there and my brother Emery, who was about 11, was watching the workers putting the belt on this machine when it fell off. Someone had put a stick in to stop the machine, without shutting off the power, and the machine cut Emery’s arm off.
Emery was in Budapest Hospital for three years, and they reattached his arm. It was just a little shorter, because for three years it didn't grow, but he was able to do everything with it. In those days, around 1915, it was an unbelievable achievement.
Uncle Joe was a Zionist, and he soon sold everything and went to Palestine.
We were going from one relative's home to the other. Mother was helping, she was cooking for them and cleaning for them and doing everything to earn her keep and her children's, and we all had chores that we had to do. My mother was accustomed to having good things because she came from a comfortable home, and after my father left, everything was downhill.
All this time, we had heard nothing from my father.
When I was six and a half years old, my mother decided we had to go back to my grandmother’s.
Since they were in the liquor business, in the front where the house was, my grandparents had a store where they sold bottled liquor and even shots of liquor. Not too far from my grandmother was another house that also belonged to my grandparents, so we stayed in that house. It was one large room. We had two beds in it, a dining table and a stove. My brothers slept in one bed and my mother slept with me.
One night, I was sleeping up against the wall, and my mother was next to me and I had my arm across her, and suddenly, something bit me on the finger. I gave out a yell, and blood was coming out. My mother lit a candle, and a rat jumped off the bed.
My mother was beyond herself. I must have been about seven and I said, “Please, quickly, tie a handkerchief around my finger and make it very tight.” She said, “Why?” And I said, “Tie it!” I had just learned in school that week that it doesn't get poisoned if you do that. We didn’t go to the doctor until morning.
When we went to the doctor, he put several stitches in there, and he said, “You're a very smart girl. You saved your life.” It would have poisoned my system.
It didn't hurt quite as much after that, because the doctor gave me so many compliments that I forgot my pain. I still have a scar and every time I look, I remember that. Oh, how I remember that! I was so proud of myself that I'd remembered what I learned in school.
Now that we were living with my grandmother, I needed a new school. There was a Catholic church and they had a school so they put me in there. There was one more Jewish girl. In Catholic school, when we walked in, everybody had to say out loud, “Praise the Lord, Jesus Christ.” I wouldn't say that because I was brought up Orthodox Jewish. The kids would watch me and when I didn't say it, they would report me. That's when I first started experiencing anti-Semitic feelings. I got in trouble adn the nuns said I had to say it.
So, my uncle came to school. I remember this because it meant so much to me at the time. He spoke to them and said, “Look, you know me, and I'm an Orthodox Jew. I keep my faith and you keep yours. You wouldn't want to say something that would be against your religion.” So, they said, “Tell your niece to move her lips, and I will tell them that you are taught to say your prayers silently.” That's what I did.
From that point on, until I came to America, whenever I walked to school, which was quite a walk, there wasn't a day that I wasn't confronted with anti-Semitism. The kids would pull my hair; I had long, golden-blonde hair with braids on each side. I was always called a “God-damned Jew.” So, I grew up with that. My parents told me to ignore these other kids if I could. As soon as I was able to get out of that school, I did.
I remember the house we lived in there, mainly because we were so poor and my mother was so proud. I remember her, almost every day, filling up a pot of water and putting it on the stove—so that, if any one of her neighbors come in, they should think she's cooking something. We really were poor.
I tried to mold it into something where I felt it wasn't forever; I'm going to go to America and I'm going to have all the things that all the children have and all the dreams that I have will come true.”
(Part II coming soon.)
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