A still from the documentary Passage to Sweden, which will screen as part of the annual Raoul Wallenberg Day for Civil Courage event on Jan. 21.
This year’s annual Raoul Wallenberg Day for Civil Courage gathering, on Sunday, Jan. 21, held at Congregation Beth Israel, will explore and honour civil courage in Scandinavia during the Second World War.
Just over 80 years ago, in late 1943, Danes, Norwegians and Swedes had to confront moral choices, when Denmark and Norway dealt with military occupation by Nazi Germany. Many people defied Nazi policies that threatened the human rights and lives of their fellow citizens and residents.
In Denmark, thousands of Christian Danes risked their own lives, cooperating in the dramatic, swift and secret rescue operation. The Jews, who faced deportation and certain death at the hands of the Nazis, were ferried to safety in neutral Sweden. Their homes and properties were safeguarded until their return after the war. Sweden welcomed and aided the Danish Jews, risking its own status as a neutral nation.
In Norway, the site of significant armed attacks by Nazi Germany, hundreds of Norwegian police officers refused the orders of Nazi occupiers, a collective action that led to their imprisonment at Stutthof concentration camp in Nazi-controlled Poland. There, the Norwegian police maintained their solidarity as they acted to reduce the suffering of their fellow prisoners, including many Jews, such as the late Jennie Lifschitz, who settled in Vancouver in the early 1950s.
Finland and the Baltic nations (Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania) were also engulfed in the war, victims of the Soviet Union’s military occupation and, in the case of the Baltics, annexation and mass civilian deportations.
While Nordic peoples, like most Europeans, were not completely free of hostility toward Jews and other minorities, they offer a good example of civil courage, based on the belief that Jewish citizens and residents were their equals.
This year, at the local Wallenberg Day event, Vancouver Holocaust educator Norman Gladstone will speak about the remarkable rescue of Denmark’s Jewish population. Local researcher and author Tore Jørgensen will speak about the hundreds of Norwegian policemen, including his father, who refused to collaborate with the Nazi occupiers. Historian Gene Homel will introduce the Wallenberg-Sugihara Civil Courage Society and the City of Vancouver proclamation of Wallenberg Day.
As well, the documentary Passage to Sweden will be screened. The film covers the wartime courage of Scandinavians, including Sweden’s Raoul Wallenberg, who acted courageously to protect civilians in Hungary, and was taken into custody by the Soviet army. His fate is unknown to this day.
The 19th annual Wallenberg Day on Jan. 21 at Congregation Beth Israel will be held at 1:30 p.m. Admission is free and donations will be gratefully accepted.
For more about the Wallenberg-Sugihara Civil Courage Society, which organizes the annual event, visit wsccs.ca.
– Courtesy Wallenberg-Sugihara Civil Courage Society
In his ambiguously titled book Ordinary, Extraordinary: My Father’s Life, Vancouver lawyer and community leader Bernard Pinsky shares the biography of Rubin Pinsky. As the pages turn, the reader realizes that ordinariness and extraordinariness really do describe the tale of a life that veers from historically monumental to surprisingly, and gratefully, commonplace.
At 1 p.m., Jan. 28, Pinsky will officially launch the book, in honour of International Holocaust Remembrance Day, at a prologue event to the Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival. He will present in conversation with Marsha Lederman.
Pinsky’s book is based on videotaped testimonies that his father, Rubin, gave in 1983 and 1990 to the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre (which is co-presenting the Jan. 28 event), as well as family memories and what is clearly intensive research.
Rubin was born (probably) in 1924, about 100 kilometres north of Pinsk in what is now Belarus but was then Poland. Pinsky sets the stage beautifully, evoking shtetl life, where the smallest of the children slept atop the bakery oven in the tiny home after his father, Baruch, had baked challah and cakes during the day to eke out a meagre living.
After the German occupation, the Nazis quickly identified the men in the Jewish community who had leadership qualities and said they were needed for an important mission in a nearby area. They were marched just out of earshot and mass murdered. In a later selection, Baruch, his wife Henya and 10-year-old Rachel were marched off and never seen again.
Rubin and his sister Chasia were deemed useful for forced labour and spared the executions. Older brother Herzl had earlier been conscripted into the Red Army.
Every survivor narrative includes a series of unimaginable interventions, coincidences and happenstances, often made possible by acts of incredible daring by the survivor. Through a series of audacious escapades – they weighed off what appeared to be likelihood of certain death with the faint hope of survival – Rubin, Chasia and a few others escaped a selection process and fled to the forest. They lived off berries, roots, tree bark and what small game they could capture. In one instance, Rubin slew a timber wolf in a competition for the same rabbit.
The group connected with a diffuse but apparently well-organized network of Jewish and other partisan fighters. Despite the challenges of mere survival, Rubin and Chasia participated in anti-Nazi actions that included cutting telephone lines, destroying railway tracks and undermining the establishment of Nazi garrisons.
Typhus swept through the Jews in the forest. In the winter of 1943/44, Rubin was delirious with fever and expected to die. In one of the terrible choices people were forced to make in such situations, the partisan cadre decided to leave him behind to save the group. Chasia refused to go. The two siblings hid in a ditch and, to the best of her ability, she nursed him back to comparative health.
Each of these unlikely survival stories makes one wonder how many similar stories did not have the relatively happy ending Rubin’s did, how many survivor testimonies or second generation narratives were never written because the fever did not break, or the hero did not take a risk on a faint hope, or any of a million chance escapes or saving miracles did not occur in time.
In July 1944, the forest in which Rubin and Chasia had hid, fought and barely survived was liberated by the Soviet army. Concentration and death camps were repurposed into displaced persons camps after the war and Rubin and Chasia were in Bergen-Belsen. Chasia left and searched for three weeks, eventually finding Herzl and bringing him with her to Bergen-Belsen, where the three surviving members of the family were reunited.
Zionists tried to recruit them to go to Palestine, but Rubin knew that would be a continuation of the conflict, uncertainty and fighting he wanted to put behind him.
“Rubin therefore made up his mind,” writes Pinsky. “He needed a skill or trade in demand in America. He and Herzl made a pact. They would study together, each in a different trade, and go together to the New World. They would help each other and never be separated again.”
The story of how Rubin and Herzl (in the New World, he would be known as Harry) were able to migrate to Canada is another example of chutzpah – an hilarious drama of subterfuge – that has to be read to be believed. Chasia, whose marriage in the DP camp did not last, joined them soon after.
Rubin married Jenny Moser in 1951 and they would have three children: the author, Bernard, his older sister Helen and younger brother Max – all now mainstays of the Vancouver Jewish community. Rubin’s life in Canada was that of a hardscrabble entrepreneur – and not without its seemingly miraculous near-misses and fortunate endings.
As an appendix, Pinsky shares writings from a 2012 family roots trip back to Gzetl, where a dedicated teacher is keeping alive the memory of Gzetl’s Jews.
Pinsky’s memoir is indeed a story both extraordinary and ordinary, of what human resilience can summon in a world turned upside-down – and how the strength developed in unimaginable adversity can carry a survivor through challenges when life becomes, in comparison, ordinary.
Kelsi James as Alice, left, and Tanja Dixon-Warren as Gertrude in Gertrude & Alice, by Anna Chatterton, Evalyn Parry & Karin Randoja. (photo by Nancy Caldwell)
Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas “visit” the Jericho Arts Centre to tell of their 40-year relationship, of friendships with iconic artists, of Alice’s overwhelming devotion to Gertrude’s genius and how, as two Jewish lesbians, they survived in Paris in the Second World War. They want to find out how their lives are – or are not – remembered.
Lois Anderson directs the United Players production at Jericho Arts Centre Jan. 19-Feb. 11. For tickets, visit unitedplayers.com/gertrude-alice.
At the Nov. 9 Kristallnacht commemorative event, left to right: Dr. Janus Møller Jensen, Nina Krieger, Prof. Chris Friedrichs and Abby Wener Herlin. (photo by Rhonda Dent)
The rescue of Danish Jews during the Holocaust – an operation that mobilized almost the entire strata of Denmark’s population – is one of the bright lights in the history of that dark era. That extraordinary event, which took place 80 years ago last month, is one of the reasons Denmark had one of the highest survival rates of any country during the Shoah. Even this uplifting story, though, has its “shadows,” according to an expert who spoke in Vancouver Nov. 9.
Dr. Janus Møller Jensen, an historian and director of the Danish Jewish Museum, was the keynote speaker at the annual community-wide Kristallnacht Commemoration, presented by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre and held at Beth Israel Synagogue.
Denmark has an unusual history in the context of Nazi occupation. After the Nazis invaded the country with minimal opposition, in April 1940, politicians and the king, Christian X, surrendered, but managed to negotiate terms that allowed the Danish democratic system of government to continue in a so-called “peace occupation.” Importantly, one of the Danish demands was that no Dane be singled out according to their race or faith, said Møller Jensen.
This status quo fell apart in 1943, after a series of strikes and uprisings around the country. Amid the Nazi crackdown came rumours at the end of September that an action against Danish Jews was imminent. At the same time, word spread that Sweden was prepared to accept Danish Jews as refugees. A mobilization of fishing boats began – as did the Nazi mobilization – in early October. Up and down the coast of Denmark, small and larger boats carried their cargo of Jewish Danes across the straight to neutral Sweden. In all, an estimated 7,220 Jews and 686 non-Jewish spouses were transported. Of all Danish Jews, 472 were captured by the Nazis and transported to Theresienstadt, in present-day Chechia, a waystation to the extermination camps. Of these, all but 53 survived the war, in part because the Danish government persuaded the Nazis to allow food and medicine packages to be delivered to the Danish inmates.
Another stunning reality was that, when the Danish Jews who survived – estimates of survival range from 95% to 99% – returned to Denmark, almost all found their homes and possessions intact – a stark difference from what Jews elsewhere in Europe discovered if they returned to their places or origin.
Not all of Danish history is so bright for Jews, said Møller Jensen. A long history of Catholic and Lutheran theological antisemitism permeates Denmark, and immigration policies before the Second World War prevented many Jews from elsewhere from reaching refuge.
“We have letters of refusal in our collection, of people who we know later died in the camps,” said Møller Jensen.
In addition, Danish companies and agricultural producers provided materials to the German war effort, although this was required of all occupied countries, he noted.
Not all rescuers acted on altruistic motives, either, Møller Jensen added. Some fishers took money to transport Danish Jews, but he also noted that, while hindsight suggests the Nazi occupiers turned something of a blind eye to the rescue operation, those involved at the time did not know this and would likely have assumed they were risking their lives.
BC Premier David Eby spoke at the Kristallnacht event. (photo by Rhonda Dent)
In addition to the hands-on rescue, Danish society rose up against the Nazis’ action. “Organizations from the entire strata of society – doctors, professors, students, lawyers, industries, working unions – protested,” he said. “The Danish church promulgated a so-called ‘Shepherd’s Letter’ to be read aloud in all of the churches in Denmark the following Sunday, stating that this was an unchristian act, that all people were the same in the eyes of God and that this was wrong and the congregation should assist and protect their fellow human beings…. One of the priests remembered, having read the letter aloud, that the entire congregation spontaneously rose to its feet and shouted ‘Yes!’”
Beth Israel’s Rabbi Jonathan Infeld thanked Møller Jensen and reflected on his words.
“The Danish people,” he said, “did exactly the opposite of what happened in Poland. When the Jews came back to Poland, they were murdered and their property was stolen, and when the Jews came back to Denmark, dinner was waiting for them on their tables. That is righteousness.”
BC Premier David Eby spoke at the Kristallnacht event, saying he wanted to provide assurances that all parties in the Legislature are committed to ensuring that the Jewish community in British Columbia is protected from antisemitism and feels safe. He acknowledged the proximate anniversaries of Kristallnacht and Remembrance Day, and noted that his government had just announced that Holocaust education will become mandatory in the BC school system.
“The thing about remembering is you can’t remember something you’ve never learned, you can’t remember something you were never taught,” Eby told the audience. “I’m proud to stand with you, to support your community, to stand against antisemitism, to stand against Islamophobia, to stand against all forms of hate, for British Columbia to be a beacon of hope in the world of what is possible at a time when those who want to promote division and hate seem to be on the rise just about everywhere. We have lots to be proud of in this province and part of what I’m incredibly proud of is the strength of our Jewish community here and I’m very honoured to be with you here this evening.”
Before the keynote address, Prof. Chris Friedrichs, emeritus professor of history at the University of British Columbia, contextualized Kristallnacht and called the Danish rescue “the most spectacular episode of rescue in the entire history of the Shoah.”
The Kristallnacht gathering was presented in conjunction with Congregation Beth Israel and funded by the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, with support from the Robert and Marilyn Krell Endowment Fund of the VHEC. Møller Jensen’s visit was facilitated by Norman Gladstone and Birgit Westergaard.
Corinne Zimmerman, president of the board of the VHEC, introduced a procession of Holocaust survivors, who carried memorial candles. Nina Krieger, executive director of the VHEC, opened the event and read greetings from Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. Cantor Yaacov Orzech recited El Moleh Rachamim. Councilor Sarah Kirby-Yung read a proclamation from the City of Vancouver. Taleeb Noormohamad, member of Parliament for Vancouver Granville, sent video-recorded greetings from Ottawa. BC cabinet ministers Selina Robinson and George Heyman were in attendance, as was Michael Lee, member of the Legislative Assembly for Vancouver-Langara.
The event drew a record crowd, according to organizers, of 420 in-person attendees and an additional 120 watching via livestream, including groups at the Louis Brier Home and Hospital and the Weinberg Residence.
BC cabinet minister Selina Robinson speaks Nov. 5 at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue. Other panelists at the B’nai Brith Canada event that day were, left to right, Schara Tzedeck’s Rabbi Andrew Rosenblatt, BC United MLA Michael Lee and Aron Csaplaros, BC regional manager for B’nai Brith. (photo by Pat Johnson)
British Columbia is to become only the second province in Canada to mandate Holocaust education in the school curriculum. In a surprise announcement at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver on Oct. 30, BC Premier David Eby was flanked by Jewish community leaders and survivors of the Holocaust when he said that Grade 10 students will be required to learn about the Holocaust, beginning in the 2025-26 school year.
Until now, it was possible for a student to graduate from the school system in British Columbia without ever having encountered the subject. Teachers have discretion to include the Holocaust in social studies classes and an elective on genocide is available in some schools, but there was no universally mandated requirement for learning about the Shoah. Ontario recently instituted mandatory Holocaust education at the Grade 6 level, becoming the first province in the country to make the subject compulsory.
Speaking at an event on Nov. 5, BC cabinet minister Selina Robinson recounted how the milestone decision unfolded. She credits former BC education minister (now minister of transportation and infrastructure) Rob Fleming with launching the idea in 2018. Fleming came to Robinson and asked if she knew that Holocaust education was not mandatory.
“Just like many, many others, I was surprised to learn that,” said Robinson. “He started the ball rolling.”
The COVID pandemic derailed the plans, as educators and administrators struggled to simply deliver learning to kids.
It was while reading Vancouver author Marsha Lederman’s book Kiss the Red Stairs that Robinson, who is the province’s minister of post-secondary education and future skills, wondered what had happened with Fleming’s idea.
“So, I picked up the phone and I called Rachna [Singh, the current minister of education] and then I called Rob Fleming and then I called a couple of my other colleagues who had an interest in seeing this move forward,” she recounted. “And then I called the premier and I said, David, this project that we started is moving at a snail’s pace and this needs to get done. We cannot wait any longer. I want to give kudos to our premier, to David Eby. He said, I’m on it.”
Robinson was speaking at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue on Sunday as part of a panel on antisemitism and Holocaust education organized by B’nai Brith Canada. Numerous members of the legislature, as well as mayors, councilors and school trustees from around the province joined the event virtually. Robinson’s fellow panelists were BC United MLA Michael Lee and Schara Tzedeck’s Rabbi Andrew Rosenblatt. Aron Csaplaros, BC regional manager for B’nai Brith Canada, moderated, with senior leaders from B’nai Brith beaming in from Eastern Canada.
From Robinson’s post-COVID jumpstarting of the Holocaust education planning, things leapt forward, she said.
“It really moved, I would say, from June until probably the beginning of September, at lightning speed – and anyone who’s ever had to work with government knows that nothing ever moves at lightning speed,” Robinson said. “So, I want to give kudos to our partners at the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre and CIJA [the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs] and [the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver] for coming together and working in partnership. I know that B’nai Brith is new on the scene [in BC] and this is a very important piece, but I also think it’s really important to recognize those that have been working … for a number of years to make this happen.”
The timing of the announcement, in the weeks after the Oct. 7 terror attacks in Israel and in the midst of a massive spike in antisemitism worldwide, was coincidental. The issues, though, are related.
Robinson said the provincial government has been vigilant in monitoring antisemitism and potential for violence in British Columbia. She credited Minister of Public Safety and Solicitor General Mike Farnworth for spearheading the response.
“He called me every single day from Oct. 7 for about 10 days, to report in to me about what was happening on the ground,” she said. In addition to her official role with advanced education, Robinson said she is known among colleagues as “the Jew in the crew,” as the provincial elected official who is most publicly visible in her Jewishness.
On Nov. 1, Robinson convened a meeting of the heads of the 25 post-secondary institutions in the province.
“I got agreement from all 25 presidents that they would do everything within their power to make sure that everyone felt safe on their campuses,” she said. “I don’t think solving that is going to be an easy task, but it’s absolutely a requirement of all of them, because, in this province and in this country, we believe that everybody has the right to be who they are and to feel safe and, if it’s not happening, then we need to fix it.”
A bipartisan love-in that has been going on between Robinson and Lee, who represents Vancouver-Langara (the provincial constituency that includes many of Vancouver’s Jewish institutions and residents), continued Sunday in the obvious respect and affection between the two MLAs despite party lines. Lee made the news last week after rising in the house to give a personal tribute to Robinson’s strength as a leader who is Jewish in this challenging time and Robinson reciprocated kind words at the B’nai Brith event.
“Michael Lee has been a steadfast supporter, not just in this particular situation,” she said. “But also [to me] as a Jewish person who is having her own experience as a Jew around what is happening.”
Robinson spoke emotionally about the impacts of current events on her family, which includes her Israeli soon-to-be son-in-law, who became a permanent resident of Canada at the end of September.
Making Holocaust education a mandatory part of the province’s education curriculum has been a dream of the people at the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre since the organization was founded, in 1994, according to Nina Krieger, the VHEC’s executive director.
“I think stars aligned and David Eby acknowledged Selina Robinson as being a key driving force in this initiative,” Krieger told the Independent.
A process of consultation will now begin and Krieger expects her agency will be central to that work, identifying and providing resources to help craft the new curriculum, which is likely to be a component of the Social Studies 10 learning outcomes.
“Certainly we bring a wealth of experience and a roster of programs and resources and best practices that will be relevant to the curriculum development process,” she said. “We are also poised to work with the minister of education to play whatever role is needed for that process. Also, we know the implementation and resource tools and training that teachers are going to need will be really important as well, so we’re looking forward to supporting the province and the teachers directly with that.”
The Jewish Federation and CIJA will continue to be engaged with the planning for mandatory Holocaust education. Both organizations issued statements after the announcement Oct. 30.
“When left unchecked, antisemitism culminates in some of the darkest chapters in human history. By learning from the Holocaust, we honour the memories of its victims and, we hope, contribute to preventing future tragedies,” said Ezra Shanken, Federation’s chief executive officer. “Today’s announcement shows the BC government’s commitment to creating a safer society for all.”
“Education is key to ensuring that our children learn to combat hate and that the Jewish community can live in a safer province,” said Nico Slobinsky, CIJA’s vice-president for the Pacific Region. “We look forward to working with the BC government on implementing mandatory Holocaust education in our province’s K-12 curriculum.”
At Sunday’s event, Marvin Rotrand, national director of B’nai Brith’s League of Human Rights, speaking virtually from Montreal, noted that 15 US states have some form of mandatory Holocaust education – and early indications from studies in those jurisdictions indicate a decrease in hate crimes not only toward Jews but other groups as well.
The costs of completing the documentary A 20th Century Passion include editing time, colour correction and sound mix. (screenshot)
A GoFundMe campaign has been launched to bring to the big screen a documentary about the late Peter Gary, a Hungarian-born composer, Holocaust survivor and resident of Victoria.
The online fundraising effort to complete A 20th Century Passion was started by filmmaker David Malysheff and Gary’s widow, Judith Estrin. Their goal is $35,000.
Gary passed away in 2016, the same year his oratorio A 20th Century Passion premièred in Jerusalem. The work spans the period from the First World War to the Nuremberg trials, including his experiences living in and surviving three years in three different concentration camps.
Gary had a message, the campaign organizers say, which was to stamp out hate. Over the years, he delivered this message to tens of thousands of students throughout Canada.
“The message of the oratorio is to remember history, that hate is ugly and brutal and should be stopped. It is a love piece in honour of Peter’s mother, who was brutally murdered by the Nazis while Peter spent three years in death camps,” Estrin said.
“Like all classical oratorios, it is tragic – this one deals not with the life of Jesus but with the six million murdered Jews. Because Peter had to deal with the murdered bodies of children, he dedicated the piece to the murdered 1.5 million Jewish children,” she said.
While Gary wrote the oratorio over a period of many years, revising it right up to time of his death, it was mostly written during 1970s and 1980s. Barak Tal, the conductor who led the work in Jerusalem, spent time with Gary at his home, going over every note.
The documentary explains how the oratorio came to fruition, using the Jerusalem performance as the score beneath the narrative. The film also shows Gary speaking to high school students about his experiences.
Malysheff, who has been a cinematographer for The Nature of Things, Us and Them and The Fifth Estate, described the film as a passion project – one for which he has not received any payment in the seven years since he began working on it. The costs of completing the film, including editing time, colour correction, sound mix and more, have led Estrin and him to appeal to the public for support.
The importance of A 20th Century Passion at this time cannot be overstated, Estrin said. “With antisemitic hate crimes and acts up just since Oct. 7, the message to stamp out hate, to go in peace, is more critical than ever,” she said. “The world has lost its moral compass, and this piece is about the hope that [people] will remember what horror the 20th century held for the world. We are facing an enemy who wants to annihilate all Jews. Once they are done with us, they will come for everyone else.”
The documentary shows Peter Gary, a Holocaust survivor, speaking to high school students about his experiences. (screenshot)
The filmmakers also point out that a significant number of North Americans born after 1981 cannot name a single concentration camp or ghetto and think that fewer than six million Jews were killed during the Holocaust. An alarming percentage of young people, they added, hold the opinion that the Jews caused the Holocaust.
Gary was born in 1924 into an artistic family that included famed Hungarian musicians, such as conductor Eugene Ormandy and pianist Lili Kraus. Through his mother’s encouragement, he began his musical training on the piano before the age of 5.
Deemed a musical “wunderkind,” Gary was admitted at the age of 9 to Budapest’s Franz Liszt Academy of Music, where he studied advanced choral and orchestral composition, as well as conducting, under the tutelage of Bela Bartok, Zoltan Kodaly and Leo Weiner.
In 1940, Gary’s education stopped when both he and his mother were arrested by the Nazis. His father was away on a business trip, which allowed him to escape into hiding. Gary spent the next years in concentration camps before he was liberated from Bergen-Belsen by the British on his 21st birthday.
Following the war, Gary moved to Paris to resume his musical studies at Sorbonne University. He received a doctorate in musicology there in 1949.
Gary then immigrated to the United States and, for a brief time, worked in the music department at MGM. In 1963, he took a year off to compose a ballet suite that was performed in France. During his life, he composed more than 20 orchestral pieces, which have been performed in the United States, Canada, Germany, Holland, France and Scotland.
The film runs approximately 90 minutes. Malysheff and Estrin would like it shown at Jewish film festivals and in schools. They have a curriculum for secondary schools that uses the libretto as text. To date, the oratorio has been translated into Hebrew, French and German.
To donate to the documentary’s fundraising campaign, visit gofund.me/d335a5f8. All who send in a contribution will receive a screen credit for being part of the message of the film.
Sam Margolishas written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.
Hadar Galron in Whistle, which is at the Firehall Arts Centre Nov. 14-15, as part of the Chutzpah! Festival. (photo by Nathan Yakobovitch)
“As a child I was never hugged or kissed; I think my parents did not even see me. I wrote this story to stop being an invisible child,” Israeli author Ya’akov Buchan has said about Whistle: My Mother was Mengele’s Secretary.
The play Whistle is part of this year’s Chutzpah! Festival, with performances Nov. 14 and 15 at the Firehall Arts Centre. Writer, director and actor Hadar Galron, who adapted Buchan’s story for the stage, stars in the monodrama.
“Buchan was born to two Auschwitz survivors, and began writing after he was injured in the Yom Kippur War. He’s written 18 books – four concerning the Holocaust – but he felt that people don’t read so much anymore, and that he wanted to write a play about second generation Holocaust survivors,” explained Galron in an interview with the Independent. “Dramatic writing and prose are very different techniques, and Ya’akov sent me about 30 pages of interesting and well-written content, but not dramatic enough for stage.
“The first meeting with him was out of respect – I thought I’d give him a few tips and let him take it from there,” she continued. “I remember the turning point: I said, ‘You mention twice in these pages the name Mengele. You can’t just throw in a name like that, it needs to have some dramatic payoff, or not to be mentioned at all.’ Ya’akov said nothing, just nodded. And, suddenly, I thought that maybe Mengele had tortured one of his parents. ‘Were any of your parents somehow … (how to say this?!) … connected to Mengele?’ Ya’akov looked me squarely in the eye and said, quietly, ‘My mother was Mengele’s secretary.’ That was when I knew I would take the task, and help him tell his story and the story of the second generation.”
In recent years, Galron has been working on several plays that deal with the lasting impacts of trauma. “We tend not to consider [the] second generation as traumatic,” she said, “but something as horrendous as the Holocaust leaves some people so scarred that they cannot really love anymore, even their children. Or, they love but in a different, obsessive way. The children who grow up without feeling love are traumatized, too, but their wounds are invisible.
“It’s important to understand that, whilst the trauma lasts a minute or a year or five years, post-trauma lasts a lifetime and, when considering [the] second generation, then even more than a lifetime. Long-term traumas such as [the] Holocaust are not a swing of the sword, they are more like the bite of a snake – the venom penetrates the body and mixes with the blood of the victim.”
Though she generally directs her own works, Galron said, “When I’m the actress, I need someone on the outside. At first, I thought maybe I’d direct and not act. It was Ya’akov who begged me, after seeing my stand-up cabaret Passion Killer, to act the part.”
Jaffa, Israel-born director and playwright Hana Vazana Grunwald was the first person who came to Galron’s mind to direct.
“We studied theatre together at Tel Aviv University, but that was decades ago! I had no idea where to find her,” said Galron. “We’d met a couple of times in festivals, etc., along the years. I was thinking of her on my morning walk-jog in the park by my home. In the distance, I saw a woman that reminded me of Hana and then we got closer and I saw it actually was Hana! She lives five minutes away from me, but that was the first day she decided to go out and take a power-walk before work. I don’t believe in coincidence – it’s only God’s way of remaining anonymous.”
Grunwald started out in community theatre more than 25 years ago. She is the director of the Frechot Ensemble, a collective of women creators, which she founded some 10 years ago.
“I see myself as a feminist Mizrahi (Middle Eastern Jew) writer, who brings to the forefront my personal story,” she told the Independent. “But my personal story is never just my own, it’s an inherent part of my political story, my family’s story and the collective which I belong to. I feel that my world isn’t really represented in Israeli theatre. I don’t see the household I grew up in, I don’t encounter complexities and dilemmas that interest me. I realized I have the responsibility to represent myself – I have to write these texts, I have to tell these stories. My job is to search through history and prose and to bring back the voice of all those whose voice was taken away from them.”
When Galron sent her the script for Whistle, Grunwald said, “I was immediately hooked. But, after we met again, I felt that the opportunity to work together and find connections would also be reflected in the play’s dramaturgy.
“The challenge that the play Shirika [Whistle, in Hebrew] brings to our door is how to retell the story of the Holocaust and the story of the members of the second generation, who feel transparent. Two images guided me in my search for the keys to directing the play,” said Grunwald.
“The first: whistle. Tammy, the protagonist, lost her ability to whistle, she lost her ability to love and feel loved and, as she says in the play, ‘The opposite of death is not life, the opposite of death is love.’ The way this whistle is expressed on stage is through the prop of a kettle full of boiling water. The boiling and bubbling kettle and the whistler on stage metaphorically tell the story of the Holocaust, a story that never ends.
“The second image we chose is the painting. Tammy is a painter and, when we wondered what was painted on the stage, we realized that the body is the canvas, the body treasures and carries the wounds of the past, the memories – the actress jumps from limb to limb and with the help of simple means such as brushes and paints Tammy marks national history…. This is the way in which the trauma is present again on the stage.
“It seems that precisely now the spectacle of a whistle is given a relevant meaning,” Grunwald added. “We find ourselves facing a terrorist attack in which again Israeli Jews are brutally murdered and mass murdered because of their Jewishness. We again witness horror stories in this war against Hamas. We find ourselves again, 75 years after the establishment of the state of Israel, in a shocking event that reminds us of the fear of being destroyed. The harsh scenes from both sides shake the soul, sow terror and fear, and remind us that the feeling of security is a temporary illusion and we must not forget it. I work at the Hebrew-Arab theatre in Jaffa, a theatre that gives a stage to the binational discourse, it gives a stage to both narratives, and I feel that, these days, it is the first to be hurt.”
Galron also works with artists of different backgrounds and shared one of her experiences.
“Between 2016 and 2018, I was artistic director of the Shalom Festival, a small festival that was an official part of the Edinburgh Fringe fest,” she said. “We created this festival after an Israeli production, in 2014, was shouted down by the BDS [boycott, divest and sanction movement] and, in 2015, there were no Israeli productions.”
She was inspired by Sir Rudolf Bing, founding director of the Edinburgh International Festival, from which the Edinburgh Fringe Festival has its roots. Galron explained that Bing, a Jewish-Austrian opera singer, who fled Nazi Germany, “created the festival as a cultural bridge, inviting, firstly, German artists to take part! With that in mind, I told the sponsors of the Shalom Festival that we cannot make a one-sided Shalom (Peace) Festival and that, as the artistic director, I would like to bring artists from all of Israel, including Israeli Arabs – both Muslim and Christian – and also some Palestinian artists. At first, there was big objection but, eventually, I convinced them that these are Palestinians who believe in peace, in dialogue. Until today, even in these times, I am in contact with my Palestinian friends.
“I believe art is a bridge,” she said. “I believe art and culture and theatre have the power to heal – to give us insight and create empathy. From my very first performance as a stand-up artist – my show was on the status of women in the Jewish law – I made a decision to make my art meaningful, to merge life and stage.”
Since the Oct. 7 Hamas terror attacks on Israel, Galron has been posting related videos and other items on Facebook, including “Creativity in place of survival” writing challenges. She got the idea from a course she took during COVID with Dr. Joe Dispenza. “In one of the online digital courses, he speaks of how our brain can be either in ‘survival’ or in ‘creativity’ mode,” said Galron. “The moment I heard this, I understood many things about myself and how creativity has always been for me a way of surviving. Now I know that, when we begin to be creative, we actually begin to pull ourselves out of ‘survival’ [mode] even if we are being creative whilst we try to survive. A bit like Baron Munchausen explains that he pulls himself by his hair out of the pit.”
About how she is doing since the attacks, Galron said, “I didn’t have a real answer to that question until yesterday, because everything is so chaotic. But I was speaking to a university student of mine who answered, ‘I’m committed to the good.’ I was so moved by this. She told me she adopted it from her yoga teacher. I adopted it from her. I’m committed to the good.”
Composer Rita Ueda has written an opera inspired by Barbara Bluman’s book I Have My Mother’s Eyes. (photo by Danilo Bobyk)
“In light of what is happening in the news today, we need to tell the story of Chiune Sugihara and the Bluman family more than ever,” composer Rita Ueda told the Independent. “I suspect more and more world leaders, communities and individuals will be faced with the decision to either do the easy thing, or the right thing. We need to tell ourselves more stories of compassion, courage, healing and family love.”
Ueda’s chamber opera I Have My Mother’s Eyes: A Holocaust Memoir Across Generations premières at the Rothstein Theatre Nov. 18-19, as part of the Chutzpah! Festival. Directed by Heather Pawsey, the opera tells the story of Sugihara, the Japanese diplomat who risked his own life during the Holocaust to issue visas to Jews, including members of Vancouver’s Bluman family. Its title comes from the late Barbara Bluman’s book of the same name, which was published in 2009, five years after her death from cancer.
“I don’t think I fully knew why I wanted my mother’s book published … when I immersed myself in this legacy project,” said Danielle Schroeder. “Looking back, bringing her story and my grandmother’s stories to life brought me a lot of comfort and meaning as I grappled with the profound sense of loss her death brought…. Also, at the time it was published, stories about the impact of intergenerational trauma and resilience were not being written about that much in the mainstream, so I felt my mom’s book was unique in the way it interweaves and interconnects her and her mother’s stories of trauma, loss and hope. And, of course, being able to share with the world the story of courage, generosity and compassion of the Sugihara family was also important to me.”
Ueda found out about the Bluman family in 2017, through an installation at the Maritime Museum, and reached out to George Bluman, Barbara’s brother. She was moved by the intergenerational nature of I Have My Mother’s Eyes.
“Zosia [Susan] Bluman’s escape from the Holocaust is only a part of the story,” she said. “The story of how the next two generations carried on the family legacy affected me to the core. When George suggested I expand the opera to include the story of the three generations of the Sugihara family that saved them, I became compelled to create the opera!”
“I was very touched and honoured that such a well-respected Canadian composer would want to write an opera about my mom’s book,” said Schroeder. “Especially after meeting Rita in person and learning … how my mom’s book impacted her, it was easy to say ‘yes.’”
Ueda’s opera is inspired by Barbara Bluman’s book, rather than based on it.
“Opera is best suited to convey the characters’ emotional journey,” Ueda explained. “The opera covers all three characters from the book – Zosia, Barbara and Danielle – the three generations of the Bluman women, and their love for each other in light of all the events in their lives. Materials on the three generations of the Sugihara family were based on my two visits to the Sugihara family in Tokyo. Madoka Sugihara spent over five hours with me on each visit, and she showed me many photos and books. She let me play [her grandfather] Chiune Sugihara’s collection of sheet music on his piano, and she told me many family stories. I was truly moved by the two families’ journey of survival, healing, and love for each other.”
George Bluman shared a bit about the real-life people depicted: Zosia, Barbara and Danielle on the Bluman side and Chiune, Yukiko, Hiroki and Madoka on the Sugihara side.
Bluman’s mother was born in 1920 and died in 2004. “Her story, before coming to Vancouver in July 1941, comes to life in I Have My Mother’s Eyes,” he said. “In Vancouver, she worked as a salesperson/buyer in women’s clothing at Cordell’s and Jermaine’s. She was one of the founders of the annual Warsaw Ghetto memorial program, the forerunner of the current annual Yom Hashoah commemoration. Mum is featured in the 2000 PBS documentary Sugihara Conspiracy of Kindness, as well as in the Holocaust museums in Washington, New York and Los Angeles. She loved her family, hosting raucous weekly Sunday dinners for all, often including her children’s friends.
“My sister, Barbara Bluman (1950-2001), graduated from UBC Law School in 1975, among the first large class of women. She was an independent thinker and feminist who lovingly balanced raising her children and her career in law. Her commitment to human rights was demonstrated in all of her pursuits…. Her deep dedication to Holocaust understanding led to her contribution to the Gesher Project, a second-generation cultural exploration of the Holocaust, and organizing an important symposium on the Nuremberg trials.”
Bluman said that, from 1996 to 2000, his sister made notes from 19 interviews with their mother. “Excerpts from these notes formed the basis for her book,” he said, praising his niece’s efforts in getting the book published.
“Yukiko Sugihara (1913-2008) married Chiune Sugihara (1900-1986) in 1936,” said Bluman. “In 1993, my family first met her, together with her oldest son, Hiroki (1936-2002), and Michi (Hiroki’s wife) for a few hours at the Vancouver airport during a stopover on their way to a dinner in Toronto organized by Ontario Premier Bob Rae involving the Jewish and Japanese communities. There was a spontaneous outpouring of strong emotions. To me, in her demeanour, she was an empress! She knew no English and I no Japanese, but I felt what she was saying. My mum and Barbara attended the dinner in Toronto, where the principal guest speaker was David Suzuki.”
There were a few other encounters, and Bluman said he and his brother Bob have corresponded regularly with Madoka. “I have met her twice in visits to Japan,” said Bluman, noting that Bob joined him on the second visit.
“Madoka is a very gracious person and works passionately on making the world aware of the heroic legacy of her grandparents. According to Madoka, her grandmother Yukiko played a most essential role in the Sugihara story.”
Ueda’s opera is “especially meaningful,” said Schroeder, “because it brings my mother back to life and honours her in such a profound way.”
She added, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the Sugihara family, so to see a piece of art be created that brings our family together is moving beyond words.”
Teiya Kasahara as Yukiko Sugihara and Barbara Ebbeson as Zosia Bluman in I Have My Mother’s Eyes, which is part of the Chutzpah! Festival. (photo by Flick Harrison)
It has taken seven years to get to this point – the opera’s première.
“George and Danielle have been wonderful to work with,” said Ueda. “They have shown me photos (which you will see in the production) and shared family stories with me. They also introduced me to the wonderful Sugihara family.”
Ueda shared “two fun facts”: George Bluman, an emeritus math professor at UBC, trained her brother, a former math professor himself; and she has received permission to turn Yukiko Sugihara’s Midnight Sun Songs, poems that chronicle her story as the wife of Chiune Sugihara, into a sequel to I Have My Mother’s Eyes. The world première will be in Tokyo in October 2024.
Ueda has been composing since she was a toddler. “My late mother was an opera singer, so I grew up in a household with music,” she said. “My early musical ‘scores’ were crayon drawings of picture-representations of the sounds I improvised at the piano. My very first composition teacher when I was 3 (who was about 95 at the time) encouraged me to improvise at the piano and to keep on ‘drawing’ scores in crayon colours, even though his own teachers in the 1880s were Helmholtz and Tchaikovsky. He also arranged for me to see many concerts and events with composers such as Steve Reich, Earle Brown and John Cage.”
The environment, human rights and other societal issues have inspired Ueda’s work. “People in the audience do not need to agree with what I say in my music, but I want them to use the experience as a catalyst for important community dialogue,” she said.
For Ueda, opera is the perfect medium for telling a story with a strong emotional content.
“Opera cannot deliver a blow-by-blow story like a TV drama, film or documentary,” she acknowledged, “but music combined with voice can speak to you at the deepest, most profound level. Through opera, I hope to tell engaging and relevant stories that are important to us – who we are, what we stand for, and what we believe in. European opera has had a history of elitism throughout the past 400 years, but recent Canadian opera productions have been changing this. I hope I Have My Mother’s Eyes will contribute to this change.”
As an artist herself, Yvonne Singer can well appreciate the esthetic merits of the open-air monument to Swedish Second World War hero Raoul Wallenberg that was unveiled last June at Churchill Park in Hamilton, Ont., in a ceremony attended by those whose families owed their survival to Wallenberg.
Though she has not personally viewed the installation, called “Be:longings,” Singer spoke admiringly of the 10 bronze-cast suitcases dispersed along a gravel path adjacent to the Hamilton aviary. She knows Simon Frank, one of the project’s three creators, and is aware that suitcases are a potent symbol of the Holocaust.
“I like the fact that the suitcases are scattered,” Singer, a well-established visual artist and teacher in Toronto, said in an interview over lemon tea in her sun-drenched kitchen. “I think the imagery and symbolism are very effective in conveying the idea of displacement and emigration.”
The old-timey valises evoke not just Wallenberg, Singer noted, but all victims and survivors of that terror-stricken era. The outdoor project is also “minimal, which I like. I don’t like public sculptures that scream at you or are clichéd.”
Part of the “Be:longings” monument in Hamilton’s Churchill Park to Second World War hero Raoul Wallenberg. (photo from Hamilton Jewish Federation via Hamilton Jewish News)
Singer connects to the installation on a whole other level. The 78-year-old resident of Toronto’s trendy Cabbagetown neighbourhood is Wallenberg’s goddaughter. She was born on his bed.
It’s a Hollywood-worthy tale that evolved over time, in a series of eye-popping twists, turns and coincidences – all amid Singer’s own personal voyage of self-discovery.
The backstory is its own blockbuster: The non-Jewish scion of a wealthy Swedish industrial and banking family, Wallenberg, then just 32, was recruited by the US War Refugee Board and dispatched to Budapest to assist and rescue as many Jews in the Nazi-occupied Hungarian capital as possible. He arrived in July 1944, just as the Nazis had finished shipping some 440,000 Jews from the countryside to Auschwitz. They and their Hungarian collaborators, the Arrow Cross militia, now set their sights on the Jews of Budapest.
Accorded diplomatic status, Wallenberg famously set off on a frenetic pace. He designed, printed and distributed thousands of the famous “Schutzpass” – an official-looking document that placed the holder under the protection of the neutral Swedish Crown. He also scoured the city for buildings to rent, finding 32, and crammed in as many souls as possible. The “safe houses” flew the yellow-and-blue Swedish flag and were declared protected by diplomatic immunity.
Known for his bluster and bravado (and for bribes using American cash), his greatest coup came when he reportedly persuaded Nazi commanders to call off the liquidation of Budapest’s Jewish ghetto, with its 70,000 inhabitants.
The number of Jews Wallenberg is said to have rescued peaks at 100,000. He is credited with saving more Jewish lives during the war than any single government.
By January 1945, the Red Army was laying siege to Budapest, and Wallenberg was taken into custody on allegations he was a US spy. He promptly vanished into the massive gulag system. A Soviet report in 1956 dryly noted he had died in July 1947 of a heart attack in Moscow’s notorious Lubyanka prison, but supposed eyewitness sightings and stories of contact with him from former inmates continued well into the 1970s.
A nine-year joint Swedish-Russian investigation, ending in 2001, came to opposing conclusions, with Moscow sticking to its story about Wallenberg’s 1947 death, and Stockholm stating that absent any proof, it was impossible to reach a conclusion about his fate.
In 2012, the diaries of a former head of the KGB, discovered stuffed into the walls of his Moscow home, stated there was “no doubt” that Wallenberg was “liquidated” in 1947.
But back to Singer.
On the night of Nov. 3, 1944, a desperate Tibor Vandor, who worked for Wallenberg as a courier and liaison to the underground, needed help for his wife, Agnes. She was in labour and had been turned away from Budapest’s hospitals, which barred Jews. Wallenberg allowed the couple to use his own room, while he slept in the corridor using his coat as covers.
The next morning, he was called in to see a dark-haired newborn girl. Asked by the grateful parents to name her, Wallenberg chose Nina Maria Ava (Nina was his half-sister’s name, Maria his mother’s). The couple changed the first name to Yvonne, and Wallenberg agreed to be the child’s godfather.
Singer knew nothing of this until she was 34 years old.
It was October 1979 when she read an article in the Toronto Star, reprinted from a US newspaper, about Wallenberg’s plight. The story included a reference to Singer’s unusual birth, taken from a Hungarian book on the Swedish hero written after the war. The baby with the Toronto connection, the parents, the godfather, were all there, mentioned by name.
When she read the piece, “I burst out crying,” she told the Star after contacting the paper. Her story spilled forth a week later in a large Saturday article headlined “Swedish hero saved my life: Metro woman.”
Singer is still struck by “the incredible coincidence of it all. Here I am in Toronto in 1979, reading the paper … it boggles the mind. I could have easily gone through life not knowing the story. Suddenly, I had a connection to this man, who sounds like he was fascinating.”
Her parents had not told her the story. And there was another missing piece of the puzzle: their Jewishness.
At war’s end, the Vandors went to Switzerland and Holland before settling in Montreal in 1949, where they shed their Jewish identities, doubtless seeking to blot out the legacy that had caused them so much pain. Tibor Vandor even became an elder in the United Church (Yvonne attended church until she was about 14).
Her parents never revealed being Jews. “I always pressed them for more information, and they always refused,” even following the revelations in the Toronto Star, Singer recalled. “They told me very, very little.” Their silence encompassed “anything to do with the war.”
Singer graduated from McGill University and went on to teach high school English and French. She married her husband, Ron Singer, a theatre director and educator, in 1966 and, because her Jewishness was unknown to her, converted to Judaism.
A few years later, a cousin in England recalled being a flower-girl at Yvonne’s parents’ wedding, which she said took place in a synagogue. The parents denied it, but Yvonne believed it.
Singer’s feelings of alienation as an immigrant child would evaporate on discovering that she had been born Jewish, whether the knowledge came from a cousin or the Toronto Star. “I felt like I’d come home, part of a history that goes back thousands of years. I no longer felt rootless,” she said.
The Singers moved to Toronto in 1971, where Yvonne later began a prolific art career in various media and teaching visual arts at York University. Raising three daughters and a busy life meant there was little time to get involved in the Wallenberg file, though she was pleased when he became Canada’s first Honorary Citizen in 1985 and when Canada Post issued a stamp commemorating Wallenberg a decade ago.
In 1997, even Queen Elizabeth heard Singer’s remarkable story. The artist was among the dignitaries in London when a bronze statue of Wallenberg was unveiled by the Queen. The two were introduced.
“The Queen listened attentively and I was told she was very interested in my story,” Singer said at the time. “It was a highlight of my life.”
It’s no surprise that Singer’s art has explored themes of identity, history and memory. The outsider status she felt in her early life “is what made me think about ways of expressing that, either through language or visual imagery. So, you go to what you know when you’re an artist.”
In 2016, the Swedish government declared Wallenberg officially dead, but, to Singer, that offered no finality. “From what I learned, the Swedish government is not exempt from blame for trying to get Wallenberg out. I cannot reconcile the fact that [Wallenberg’s family] could not exert any kind of leverage over the Russians to find out what happened to him.”
The title of godparent in Judaism is largely honorary, and Singer considers the godfather connection to Wallenberg an honour. “But I’m also very sad that I never met him,” she said. “I think he would have been a fascinating person to talk to. The story is just very, very tragic.”
The grandmother of nine sighed. Over the decades, the story for her was very personal, obviously, “and I was still processing it. Maybe I’m still processing it, for a long, long time.”
A version of this article originally appeared in the Hamilton Jewish News. It is reprinted with the author’s permission.
More than 20 girls were rescued from Nazi persecution and brought to Tynemouth (photo from Summerfield family via BBC)
On Jan. 26, 2023, a blue plaque at a house in Tynemouth, a coastal town in northeast England near Newcastle, was unveiled. The marker recognizes the efforts of David Summerfield, the grandfather of Victoria, BC’s Henry Summerfield, to help rescue Jewish children before the Second World War.
David Summerfield’s undertaking was part of the Kindertransport, which, from late 1938, after Kristallnacht, to the declaration of war in September 1939, brought Jewish children to the United Kingdom.
“My grandfather ran a jewelry store in Newcastle. He was very well known and well thought of inside and outside of the Jewish community,” Henry Summerfield told the Independent. “He got a committee together and they raised funds and got a house in Tynemouth. In those days, they would not have boys and girls in the same house. Thus, they decided girls were more vulnerable and they would take them in.”
The house at 55 Percy Park provided lodging for 24 Jewish girls, aged 3 to 15, from Germany, Austria and Czechoslovakia. In total, nearly 10,000 children were brought into the United Kingdom during the nine months of the rescue operation.
“It was a terrible ordeal for the children because they were in a strange country and they were going to a city they had never heard of. They were not accompanied by any adults who could guide them,” said Summerfield. “A girl from Czechoslovakia was the worst off because did not speak either German or English.”
The local Jewish community in Newcastle needed people to care for the girls after they arrived, Summerfield said, and they managed to find two Jewish widows from Vienna who had fled to London: Paula Sieber, who had owned a cinema, and Alice Urbach, a well-known chef who also operated a cooking school.
Prior to the war, Urbach had written a popular cookbook, Cooking the Viennese Way, under a false name, because, as a Jew, she was not able to publish using her real name. In 2022, her granddaughter, historian Karina Urbach, published Alice’s Book: How the Nazis Stole My Grandmother’s Cookbook, which explored Alice Urbach’s story and the Nazi appropriation of her intellectual property.
“Because attempts to avert a war failed, the parents were never able to join their children,” said Summerfield. “Instead, Newcastle and the nearby area became a war zone subject to heavy bombing and out of bounds to enemy aliens, so the girls were moved across the country to a house at Windermere in England’s Lake District. There they remained under the care of the two matrons till the end of the war. They were educated in local schools.”
As reports started to come out about the death camps, the matrons tried to be strict about keeping the girls away from the cinemas, where newsreels were shown. One girl managed to sneak out, saw the news and returned to the house in hysterics. Most of the girls’ parents died during the Holocaust.
As the years passed, the girls finished their schooling and got training for various jobs. The whole enterprise was successful – the girls grew up, had careers and raised families. Some stayed in England, while others moved to Israel, the United States, Australia and New Zealand.
The BBC recently learned of the endeavour and broadcast a report about a reunion of the refugees, now elderly, and their lives. The reunion was attended by David Summerfield’s granddaughter, Judith Summerfield, and great-granddaughter, Alison Moore. There were previous reunions, in 1988 and 1999.
A six-episode BBC podcast was released earlier in the year, The Girls: The Holocaust Safe House, detailing the stories of those who lived at 55 Percy Park. The current owners of the house, who purchased the property in 2017, hadn’t known the historical significance of the address as a Kindertransport hostel.
The newly unveiled plaque at 55 Percy Park reads: “In 1939, this house was home to more than 20 girls fleeing Nazi persecution. They came here via the Kindertransport rescue effort and were cared for by the Newcastle Jewish Refugee Committee, as well as the wider community of Tyneside. Most of those housed here lost their parents during the Holocaust. The committee funded their care for over seven years.”
Below that inscription is a quote from Talmud: “Whoever destroys a soul, it is considered as if he destroyed an entire world. And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world.”
A posthumous honour for David Summerfield has been proposed. His jewelry store, started in 1914, is still in operation.
Sam Margolishas written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.
