“No, he didn’t, and that’s a good point. After some discreet checking, he made contact with a local rabbi. I’d like to show you a few sequences, including that conversation and one or two others.”
> > >
Mr. Behr walked along a narrow path toward a modest country home. He approached the entrance and knocked. An elderly rabbi with a long, gray beard answered the door. He wore a lightweight black robe over a white shirt and black pants. A yarmulke sat squarely on the back of his head. He offered a greeting and invited Mr. Behr in. After the formalities, the two men retired to the living room.
“You speak Hungarian but with an unfamiliar accent,” the rabbi said.
The comment drew a nod from Mr. Behr. “Yes, other than German, I speak five languages, none of them well, I’m afraid.”
“And what can I do for you, young man?”
Mr. Behr shifted uncomfortably. “I’m here with my family from Germany. We’re staying on a farm nearby, and as you might expect, I have many concerns—but more than anything else, I need to know how to keep my family safe.”
The rabbi reflected for a moment before answering. “Now that is the golden question, I think.” He sat back in his chair and reached for his pipe. “Young man, in Hungary there are three kinds of people: There are fascists; there are partisans...and there are Jews. Though some Jews are partisans, no Jews are fascists—for obvious reasons. Now fascists come in two varieties: There is the government variety—these are not friendly to Jews—they deprive us of freedoms but are not so violent; then there are the Arrow Cross fascists—these are not in power but are very dangerous, like the worst Nazis. My advice to you is to keep to yourself and stay out of the public eye. If you do this, your family will be reasonably safe. Make your political views known, and you make yourself a target.”
———————
Partisans, or freedom fighters, existed all over Europe during the war and were composed primarily of local citizens opposed to the Axis forces.
———————
Mr. Behr considered the rabbi’s caution, and asked, “What about identification papers? All we have are German papers, though my wife has an American passport.”
The rabbi hesitated. “Now, young man, I’m afraid you must forgive me. I am going to suggest that you break the law. Destroy the German papers, and buy forged papers—Hungarian citizenship papers. Large numbers of refugees are here with foreign papers. Many have been deported to work camps in the North.”
“And where can I come by these papers?”
The rabbi tamped his pipe and struck a match. “I will give you the name of a very good man.”
The offer put Mr. Behr at ease. “I am also concerned for my daughter’s education.”
“Well, I certainly don’t recommend public school.”
“I was thinking more of a tutor.”
“Ah, I see. Well, there is Ervin. He is a young teacher who lives about a mile down the road—good Jewish boy—lost his job. As I said, the government is not friendly to Jews…. Children love him.”
“Thank you. I’ll stop in and see him.”
# # #
“They went on talking for another hour,” Ari said. “The old man couldn’t recommend a bodyguard, but the information about the forger and the teacher was most helpful. Mr. Behr visited the teacher on his way home.”
> > >
Ervin’s mother set the tea on the table between the two men and left the room. Though Ervin spoke Hungarian, it was Mr. Behr, this time, who noticed an odd accent. “You are not Hungarian?”
“Czechoslovakian,” Ervin said with a downcast expression.
“And what is it that you taught in school...general studies?”
“Yes, for the young teenagers, but after school I taught Czechoslovakian to the older students.”
“Do you speak any other languages?”
Ervin took a sip of tea. “German...not perfect, but good.”
“Well, Ervin, my family lives on a farm not far from here, and I have a ten-year-old daughter in need of a tutor. I will also be hiring a farmhand. My plan is to build a couple of rooms in the barn for these two men…. So if I were to offer you double your teacher’s wage, plus room and board, would you be interested?”
Ervin’s melancholy expression melted into dumbfounded amazement. “You are kidding, yes? You must be making a joke.”
Mr. Behr shook his head. “I assure you, I am quite serious.”
Ervin stood up and started to pace nervously, deep in thought. After a moment, he stopped and looked at Mr. Behr. “Do you know what this means for my family? Our food is nearly gone, and now this…. Yes, yes, of course I will accept. I am honored to accept.”
“Then three days from now, you come. For the first two weeks we will be building the rooms in the barn. After that, you can start with Adie—that’s my daughter. Between now and then, here is an advance on your salary.”
The young man, who looked so depressed when he answered the door, came alive. His face brightened, and a smile formed.
“There’s something else I need to ask, if that’s all right,” Mr. Behr said.
“Yes—please.”
“I mentioned a farmhand. I am looking for a man of good character; a capable man,” Mr. Behr said, hesitating, “a bodyguard for my family. Would you know such a man?”
The answer had formed on Ervin’s lips before Mr. Behr finished the question. “Yes, I know such a man...my friend’s Uncle Pesche. He is also Czechoslovakian, but not Jewish. Two years ago, he came to Hungary to work. Now he is out of work because of politics. He is a partisan. He does not like fascists.” Ervin forced a smile. “His boss was fascist. Pesche knows many partisans here and in Czechoslovakia. He is a strong man, a good man. He speaks Hungarian okay, also German, and a little English,” Ervin said, displaying a small gap between his forefinger and thumb.
# # # Three Days Later > > >
Ervin left Pesche with Mr. Behr in front of the farmhouse and went in to visit Adie.
Pesche was a rugged-looking man in his late forties. A permanent squint obscured his dark brown eyes. Crow’s feet, deeply etched in his temples, were a product of years in the sun. He wore a pale brown shirt with epaulets, matching pants, and a dark gray fedora, slightly cocked on his head.
Curious, Mrs. Behr watched the two men from the front window.
“Thank you, Pesche, for coming,” Mr. Behr said. “Did Ervin tell you anything about us?”
“He says you are here from Germany…. There are troubles in Germany for the Jews, yes? There are troubles in Hungary, too. Not as much trouble maybe, but trouble. He says you need help with the farm, maybe protection, too—for your wife and for the little ones.”
Mr. Behr gave a nod. “Ervin speaks very highly of you, but I still have questions, and I need to hear the answers from you.”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”
“Well, then what can you tell me about yourself?”
“I don’t work now. Before, I built things—rock walls, houses for people, houses for chickens. I am partisan—all my family, too. Czechoslovakia is my home, like Ervin. No work in Czechoslovakia, so we come here. Now, no work here. I was thinking to go home or fight fascists here with other partisans. I know most country between here and Czechoslovakia and partisan groups, too. I am good builder. I shoot good. I work hard. I tell the truth. Honor, freedom, loyalty—these are important.”
Mr. Behr found Pesche’s words heartening. “Well, Pesche, I like what you say, and I’m willing to take you at your word. Please understand, what I want more than anything is to be invisible here in Hungary. I want to bring my family safely through this war. So, if you accept employment here, you must not discuss our presence with anyone, and you must stay on the farm as much as possible. I am offering double your normal wage, same as Ervin, plus room and board. You will not go hungry here. Will you help us?”
Pesche’s expression remained unaltered. “I will do this. I will protect you wit
h my life. I will do whatever you ask.”
Mr. Behr took Pesche’s hand. “Thank you, my friend. I am glad to have you with us.”
“What can I do now?” Pesche asked.
Mr. Behr walked him to the barn and described the two rooms they needed to build. “The roof is good, and the walls are tight. We just need to build the inside walls. With a wood stove and some furniture, it should be like home.”
“Yes, we can do this,” Pesche said with a quizzical look. “Is this your land?”
“No, but I have the owner’s permission for this.”
“I will buy lumber when you are ready,” Pesche said.
“I’m ready. Please figure the cost and let me know.”
The two men continued to talk for several minutes before Mr. Behr excused himself and returned to the house.
Mrs. Behr was waiting on the porch. “Well?”
“A very capable man, I think,” Mr. Behr said, noticing her tentative expression. “What is it, my dear?”
“I’m not sure I like him. He looks...edgy...hard...like cold steel. He makes me uncomfortable.”
“Now, my dear, remember what you always tell your daughter? ‘You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.’ I’m sure you saw many things through that window. But what you didn’t see was the man’s character—his concern for justice, honor, liberty, human rights. You didn’t see his background. He has worked in construction for most of his life. He can handle a gun and will not back down in a fight. And you didn’t see the commitment he made to protect you and the children with his life. In Ervin’s words, he’s ‘a man’s man...a man of his word,’ and I, for one, am most impressed. I feel we should hire him...but I need your support.”
Mrs. Behr, seeing her husband’s resolve, relented, moved forward, and pulled him close. “Of course, as always.”
# # #
“So what happened after they settled in?” Merrick asked. “Was there a lot of trouble in Hungary? As I recall, persecution was fairly widespread in Europe.”
“And you’re right. That’s why Mr. Behr chose to live out in the country. The cities were hotbeds of persecution. Later, they were brutal killing grounds—unspeakable horrors….” After a brief silence, Ari continued. “I’m at a loss as to how to present the next five years. Most of that time the family remained secluded on the farm. One day was pretty much the same as the next. I have one or two sequences I’d like you to see, but I should probably just summarize the rest.”
“And that’s fine,” Merrick said.
Ari paused to recollect before continuing. “It took time for the family to adjust to the new way of life. Pesche did most of the shopping. As a non-Jew, he had access to everything the family needed—construction materials, food, clothing, and such. Mr. Behr rarely ventured out...and the children—never. However, things were a little different for Mrs. Behr. With her light-colored hair, blue eyes, and the Albert Speer signature, she could travel anywhere, unhindered. Even so, I don’t think she left the farm more than a dozen times during their stay, and when she did, she used Pesche as a chauffeur.
“Her first trip was to Budapest, just before the men finished with the barn. The family needed winter clothes, and Adie needed textbooks, sheet music, and reading material. Shortly after that trip, Pesche located the Jewish forger and brought him out to the farm.”
“Why not just use the German papers?” Merrick asked. “They seemed effective.”
Ari considered, and said, “I think it was for insurance more than anything else. Things were bad for the Jews in Germany and getting worse. Mr. Behr felt that Hungarian citizenship might block the Germans from exercising free rein over them, should the country ever fall into German hands.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, from that point on, Mr. Behr encouraged the family to learn Hungarian.... Now, for Mrs. Behr, this was quite a struggle, but Adie and her brothers had little difficulty. In fact, Adie did so well that Ervin began to teach her Czechoslovakian.”
“Mercy, she must have been a busy girl. We take these language implants for granted. I can’t imagine trying to learn two languages at the same time, unaided.”
“Well, at least they were able to pursue all these things in relative peace,” Ari said. “The rest of Europe may have been in conflict, but up until their fifth year on the farm, the countryside around them stayed fairly quiet. They planted crops in the spring, and in the fall, they harvested.
“Mrs. Behr took another trip to Budapest in 1941, this time to sell some gems to one of Mr. Behr’s colleagues. She brought back more learning material for Adie, including sheet music with some new songs from America. Adie fell in love with one of them, and after some practice, she performed it for the family. I thought you might like to see that.”
Merrick perked up. “Love to.”
> > >
Adie took a moment to arrange her sheet music while the four adults waited in anticipation. “I’m sure you have heard me practicing,” she began, “but if you don’t know, it’s called ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow.’”
As she began to play, the lyrics flowed from her mouth like honey. Though by now the tune was familiar to everyone, it still offered a welcome escape from the worries of uncertain times, causing a tear to form on more than one cheek. Time slipped by and all too soon it was over. The final note sustained for a moment and tapered off, followed by a brief silence and then applause.
“She’s a joy to listen to,” Merrick injected as the sequence continued. “Like an angel.”
The two boys came rushing through the room, Davy with a pillowcase tied around his neck and flapping behind him as he whooshed by. “Superman,” he shouted. “Faster than an express train….” He ran around the adults several times, and yelled, “Adie, take us swimming! We want to go swimming!”
Merrick scratched his head. “Superman? Now what is that all about?”
“Funny you should ask.” Ari replied. “Just happens to be the next sequence.”
# # #
“Almost every night, Adie read bedtime stories to the boys,” Ari said. “For some reason, they were particularly impressed with this comic book hero—Superman.”
> > >
The scene opened with Adie seated in bed, the boys on her left and right, each helping her hold the comic book.
“Just read us this one page, one more time before we go to bed,” Davy pleaded. “I promise we will go right to sleep...please, Adie, just once more.”
“Good heavens, aren’t you two getting tired of this?”
Davy looked intently into his sister’s eyes. “Just once more...only the first page.”
Adie smiled graciously, just as her mother had smiled at her so many times. “Okay...once more, and then it’s to bed.” She took a deep breath and for the third time that evening read the wrinkled page.
The boys appeared completely captivated, behaving as if they had never heard the story before. When she reached the end, Davy, employing a typical stalling tactic, asked, “When it says he can jump over a building, does that mean he can fly?”
“It looks that way,” Adie answered.
“And what does the part about the bursting shell mean?”
“Well, it says, ‘nothing less than a bursting shell can penetrate his skin.’ I suppose that means anything less than a bomb would just bounce off.”
“You mean bullets would bounce off?”
“I suppose so.”
“Gosh, I want to be like Superman,” Davy said with enthusiasm.
Gil echoed his brother.
“And I want to be like Alice in Wonderland,” Adie said, “but can I, Davy?”
Davy paused to consider. “No, silly.”
“And why not?”
Davy sighed. “Because it’s not real. It’s just a story.”
“And how about you? Can you be like Superman? Can anyone be like Superman? Will you ever run faster than an express train?”
Davy sighed again. “No, I guess not.”
&n
bsp; “And why is that?”
“Because it’s just make-believe,” Davy said, pausing in thought. “But it’s okay to make-believe, isn’t it?”
Adie smiled. “Of course it is, silly...and now—to bed.”
# # #
“Earlier, they were talking about swimming,” Merrick said. “I’d like to see where they go.”
“And I’d be glad to show you, but every time they went for a swim, the censor shut down the imagery. I don’t think they wear anything.”
“Ah—the innocence of childhood,” Merrick reminisced. “What’s that new phrase they’ve come up with in England? ‘Skinny-dipping?’”
“Something like that.”
“I remember doing that with my friends when I was that age.”
Ari smiled and moved on. “So Ervin turned out to be an exceptional teacher. By early 1943, the whole family was comfortable speaking Hungarian, and Adie had all but mastered Czechoslovakian. About that time, Pesche received word from his partisan friends that a Swedish envoy in Budapest was issuing protective passports to help Jews avoid deportation. The name of the envoy caught Mrs. Behr’s attention. She remembered meeting him at a Berlin social event. The next day Pesche brought a photographer out to make passport photos, and a week later, he drove Mrs. Behr to Budapest. The meeting with the envoy went well, and within a month they had their passports.”
“What did they do with their Hungarian papers?”
“Well, they had no way of knowing what the political climate might be in the future, so they just kept everything….
“Anyway, during their time on the farm, Adie’s parents did all they could to expand her education. Voice and piano lessons continued. Mr. Behr taught her all the latest dance steps—some old ones, too. He even schooled her in gemology, using the stones he brought from Berlin. Mrs. Behr kept Adie supplied with classic literature, and Pesche taught her politics.”
———————
Ari brought the family’s time on the farm to a close by showing his friend one final sequence: Adie’s fifteenth birthday celebration. The event was unusual in that her parents allowed Ervin and Pesche to bring a few friends. In addition to the typical birthday festivities, Adie performed a most memorable piano recital.
Ari pieced several segments of the event into a half-hour sequence. At its conclusion, he said, “What you just saw was the family’s last happy occasion. From this point on, things grew worse. The Nazis entered Hungary in the spring of 1944. The first news of the invasion came through Pesche’s partisan contacts. After some thought, Mr. Behr decided to let Ervin go. I think he wanted him to be with his family when the Germans arrived. In any case, Mr. Behr thanked him for his service, gave him six months’ wages, and sent him home. Ervin was upset, but Mr. Behr was adamant. Not long after that, there was a conversation with Pesche I thought you should see.”