Edith Schonstal

SCHONSTAL: About myself, I was born in 1937 in Budapest, Hungary. I was a very happy child at home with my parents like other kids were, and I lived with my family very happily. Anyway, after 1944 all of a sudden our lives changed. We had to become aware of going out on the street. My parents were listening to the radio all the time and scared, and I didn’t understand what was going on because I was too young. At that time we had a designated time to go out on the street because we were restricted. Only until 5:00 PM in the afternoon you were allowed to do any errands you had. 

One day we went with my mother to get a loaf of bread. I remember that. We were past the time that we were allowed to be out on the street. Police got us arrested, and my mother, my sister, and my nephew were with me — we were together — and they took us to jail. We were there for three weeks to my recollection. Every single day while I was in jail we had to go out on the outside and they called names. My mother was praying that they don’t call our name because whoever they called they had to go to a siren. As a child I heard a siren, I just wanted to go with the truck what they took the people with. It turned out they were taken to the concentration camp from the jail. It was not only Jews; it was political prisoners, Gypsies were arrested. They were called each day by names whoever had to go. 

Luckily we survived. We managed to stay there for three weeks and got out of jail because my mother, I guess, talked to the guard. I don’t know the circumstances how we got out because I was so young, but as far as I know. My sister had polio. Since she had polio, her son, who was 22 months old, I think, she could not take care of him properly, so she talked to the guard — I believe that’s what it was — and they let us out somehow. It was just a miracle we got out of there, from the jail.

After we got out from jail, we were transferred from our home to an apartment building designated only for Jews. No Christian people lived there, just Jewish people. There had to be a yellow star on the door of the building to show that it’s only for Jews. It was not a ghetto yet; it was just from our home to another building. We were living there for a while. After that, I just played as a child and I felt safe because I had a mother and a father who I was able to depend on. As a child I didn’t know the danger we were in at the time. It turned out to be our lives were in danger every single day. Eventually we were transferred over to a ghetto. I don’t remember how much time went by between living in the Jewish-designated building where we were in to the ghetto, but we were transferred over to a ghetto. The buildings were all wired up, and nobody could get out. 

I was not able to go to school when the Germans came in. My mother took me by the hand to different schools, and they all refused me to register because I was Jewish, so I lost time. It was not enough that I was seven years old, I lost another year. I was eight years old by the time I was able to enter the first grade because of it. I could not educate myself. It was very, very tough. I know we were starving. We were hungry all the time. All the time. My nephew, I think he must have been seven. He was two years older. We used to go and say, “We want food. We want food.” Together we were saying that. 

My father somehow, I don’t know how, he managed to get some potatoes so we could eat a little better, but it was just to keep us alive. I know my mother was a very orthodox, religious person, and she would not eat anything, just kosher, so this was a real problem. She had a little bit of matzo meal flour which she was licking all the time, just licking to keep alive. I don’t know how she managed. She would not eat anything. She would not touch anything. This was really very tough; she was very thin and frail. How she managed to stay alive, I don’t know. But this was in the ghetto, very, very difficult times. 

It comes to mind that when I was in the ghetto, I was so terribly hungry that my mother could not stand it anymore. She walked over to one of the soldiers who had a metal container on the side, and she said, “Would you get something, a little slice of bread? My child is starving. Would you please?” So he took that metal container and gave it to my mother which had cabbage rolls, hot cabbage, sauerkraut and cabbage roll. It was steaming hot, and my nephew opened that. I heard that from my mother, and I do remember because it was so hot. With my hands I got into it and stuffed it in my face. That stayed with me very vividly.

Interviewer: Was that the only time any soldiers ever gave you anything?
SCHONSTAL: That’s right. That’s the only time. We just stuffed it in. My mother and sister would not touch it. They wanted the kids to eat it. They would not eat it. My family managed to — actually, we stayed in the ghetto for quite a long time. I think we were in one room. Several families were in there, I remember as a child, and we kind of slept under discomfort. I don’t remember exactly how, but it was very uncomfortable. Hungry and cold all the time. Also we were hearing shots, shooting in the background. My father kept saying, “The Russians are coming. They are getting close. The Russians are going to save us, and we’ll be free.” But it turned out to be that the Hungarian Nazis were shooting people into the Danube River, which we found out afterwards, which of course we were not aware of. 

My brother was taken away by the Hungarian Nazis while we were in the ghetto. They took him away, and my father just couldn’t stand it. He was running after. I remember we were up on the top floor, and he was running after him just to see where they take him. But of course they just walked away. We didn’t see my brother until we got liberated from the Germans. Getting to a conclusion, my father survived the war, and my mother and myself. So did my brother, like I said. He came back in 1945 from the concentration camp. My whole family survived the war. Only my brother was in a concentration camp. My parents, myself, and my sister, by a miracle we survived. 

We stood in line on the street when we were in the ghetto. They got us to come down on the street, and they told us they were going to take us someplace, transfer us to a different place. So my dad packed up all the little belongings thinking we were going away someplace. But they took all those people to the concentration camp. By God’s miracle, they cut the line in front of us, and they sent us back to the ghetto. The people who were in front of us, to me it looked like hundreds and hundreds of people, all over, they marched them away from us, and we managed to go back to the ghetto. 

I don’t know how much time went by because I was so young, but I know that when they were bombing the city we had to go into a shelter, that I remember. It’s very clear in my mind because there was kind of a damp smell down there. I did not understand the danger that we were in at the time. We suffered through the whole thing. 

We managed to get by and survive the war, and eventually the Russians, in 1945 when they came in, we got liberated by them, and that’s when the Russians took over the country and it became communist. I went to school. They registered me, and I started my normal life with my family. But this was again not pleasant to be under the communism. We could not get out of the country. It was restrictions, all kinds. My brother escaped to come to the United States in 1947. 1956 the Hungarian revolution broke out. My parents were older. The Russians didn’t want old people to be in their country. They wanted to get rid of them.

Interviewer: Now as far as liberation was concerned, what was that like for you?
SCHONSTAL: All of a sudden I just saw happiness all around me. We went back to our apartment, and it was ransacked completely. 

Interviewer: I’ve heard this many times.
SCHONSTAL: There was just nothing there. Since my father was a cabinet manufacturer, he had the business in his home. It was two rooms. One was the business and the second was the living. We had a pretty nice apartment with a kitchen, a bathroom, a hallway. A lot of people didn’t have it that nice as we did. A lot of people had the bathrooms outside [laughs]. Nevertheless, my father was self-employed and he had that business. He had six or seven sewing machines — people were working for him — and they had materials, fabrics which they worked with. 

The Germans took everything away from him. They cleaned up. They took the sewing machines away. [Inaudible words] Germans took truckloads of things. Everything was gone. Going back to our apartment there was no food, no nothing. My mother and father decided to go to the farm. Our neighbors all became —the ones I used to play with, kids — all those people turned on us during the German times, and they didn’t even want to talk to us. It just was horrible. They were allies with the Germans! It was a horrible thing. 

When we came back to our apartment, no food, no nothing. My mother melted a little bit of butter she got hold of. I remember she melted the butter and it tasted so good to me. She put it outside because it was cold and it would kind of freeze, that melted butter. Oh, my gosh! With a little bit of bread, to me it was like eating a lobster tail. Just the way I felt. It was so wonderful.

So my parents went down to the farm to see if they can find some food. My mother got some oil and some potatoes somehow. They traded in something. My dad had a watch or something. He gave it to them for food because we had no money, of course. They bring back this oil that I remember. They were machine oil; they were not for food. The whole family got horribly sick from that. Can you imagine? Isn’t that cruel to do that?

Interviewer: Yes, it is cruel.
SHONSTAL: They still in them had that hatred for the Jewish people. My parents were able to get a visa to legally come out, but I could not come out of Hungary. So when the ’56 revolution came, I snuck out of Hungary alone with another couple that took me in. I was with them and went to Vienna. I went to the American Embassy and took care of all my papers. Since my brother was in the United States, I could come to America because he could sponsor me. So that’s the way it happened. I did manage to come out to the United States, and I am today very, very grateful that I could make a family and made a life for myself. 

But actually this is my story. My father was a cap manufacturer in Hungary. Before the war he was self-employed. During communism, he had to work for the government. He was a very sick man, heart trouble and asthma and all that. He came out to this country in 1957 with my mother. The picture is right here when he arrived on the airplane. They arrived to Seattle so the whole family could be all together. It was very, very happy times.

Interviewer: From the time that you were able to leave the ghetto, and for a while you went back to your original apartment, but then nothing was there. Everything was gone. Did you have anything that you were able to bring with you? You were a child. You were seven years old. A little doll? You had nothing.
SCHONSTAL: I’ll tell you what I did. I made a doll out of rags, and that’s what I was playing with. I had nothing. No toys. As a little girl, you want to play with dolls. Well, after my parents got back to a normal life, my father, of course, bought me a doll, a real doll, because I never had one. It’s amazing.

Interviewer: So really when you came to this country, you pretty much, like other people say, had “the clothes on your back” and that was about it.
SCHONSTAL: I had nothing on me. As a matter of fact, I was just going over to my sister after school because I already finished high school, and then I went to a gymnasium to learn a profession — bookkeeping, accounting. So I had my briefcase under my arm and I’m going over there, and my mother’s there and she says, “Edith, this is a time for you to leave. A neighbor lady is leaving the country with her husband. They will take you.” 

This is the way I escaped from Hungary. She gave me some money, and she talked to the neighbor who said, “OK. She can come with us.” And so we got on the truck. I had nothing on me, just my briefcase. I had to run home to get my identification. That’s all I had. I ran upstairs to get my ID. My dad opens the door, and I just said, “Dad, I’m leaving the country.” That’s all I could tell him. I grabbed my ID and ran down, and that was that. I jumped on the truck and there I go.

Interviewer: You didn’t waste any time.
SCHONSTAL: No, you could not. They told you, “Hurry up. Time is limited.” Our life was in danger from the Russians. Even though there was a revolution, the Russians took over again, and you could not escape after a certain time. You were limited. 

When we were leaving with the truck, all of a sudden we’re getting to a small town. There was a police station there, and they came out with a gun holding towards us. I was so scared. We had to get off the truck and go in the police station. They had a question, “Are you trying to escape from here? Tell us the truth.” There were quite a few of us in there. There was not only one truck; I think it was three or four trucks from the company who was escaping. Slowly they put up their hand that they want to escape from this country, so I hold up my hand, and all of a sudden the police says, “Well, OK. You can go on foot, but you leave the trucks here because that belongs to the country.”

So sure enough, everybody starts going in their own way. I had a lady standing next to me with a girl my age, and she says, “Who are you, young lady? I see you standing alone.” This other couple was bringing me out of the country, as I mentioned, but she says, “I have a daughter your age. If you want, you can come with us. My husband is in Vienna already.” I guess they were able to have money somehow. He was able to reserve a hotel room for the family ahead of time. So she took me along. She says, “I know a farmer here. He can lead us to the border. If you like, come with us.” So I said goodbye to the other couple who I left with, and I continued my journey with this lady and the daughter.

Then we went into this farmhouse, and I remember the guy eating bacon and bread in his hand like the country guys do and said, “Well, you guys want to escape? I understand. It will cost you so much money.” So I had to give I don’t remember how much, forint [turkee?]. That was the name of Hungarian money, forint [spells out]. I give it to the guy. He says, “We cannot leave right now. Let me look at my watch. It’s 8:00 PM right now. It’ll be 1:00 AM before we can go, during the middle of the night when it’s dark, peaceful, and very dangerous. 

I was scared. It came 1:00 AM. I guess he gave us something to eat while we were sitting there waiting. He walked us over to a place where other Hungarian refugees were meeting from different areas who had a leader taking them out of there, a guide who walked them. He guided us as a group towards the Austrian border. It was so pitch dark, and all of a sudden the Russians were lighting up the area. It was lit up so we had to get down low, flat down so they can’t see us. As we were walking, I stepped into a ditch and my ankle went out. I was lucky. We were close to the border by then. They dragged me out. Two guys were holding me up so I could get to the border.

When we got to Vienna right away they came with first aid. The ambulance came and took me in. They fixed me up and I was OK. Then this lady took me over to the hotel where the husband was reserving for them. She got in touch with him. I stayed with them for three weeks in Vienna. In that three weeks I took care of my papers, went to the American Embassy. I took care of everything responsibly. 

And that’s the way I started out. I got on the Army plane to New York and to Seattle.

Interviewer: That’s amazing.
SCHONSTAL: Yes, I came by Army plane. Most people came by boat, the ones I talked to, Hungarian refugees. I don’t know how it happened that they put me with some other Hungarian refugees on the Army plane, which was devastating because we got into air pockets and we were just going down like in an elevator. Oh, my God! People got sick, and here I was eating everything and I was fine. 19 years old. No problem. For that Army plane we got to New York. That’s where we wind up, in New York. 

Anyway, we were in this camp which most Hungarians wound up in. I do know one thing that I remember. I went to the Jewish HIAS [Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society], and they called my brother and notified him that I was in this country. By that time I was just elated to be in this country. I was just so happy. Not speaking the language, somebody translated that my brother was in Seattle, Washington, and his sister is here from Budapest. He had not seen me for ten years, so he did not know what to expect when I got off that plane. Actually, from New York, he paid the airfare for me to get to Seattle. He waited for me at the airport. I recognized him from a picture that we had on the wall at home. I knew who I’m looking for. I recognized him. I ran towards him, and I saw the shock on his face because he remembered me as a little girl when he left Hungary.

Interviewer: You were now 19.
SCHONSTAL: I was 19 at the time. Then the newspaper found out. I actually was the first Hungarian in Seattle. First Hungarian. So they wanted to hear all the information about the Hungarian revolution. I told the story of all what happened to us from A to Z, and they put it in the newspaper and our picture was in there, my brother and I hugging. I have a picture of it in my photo album. That’s the way I started my life. It was a new life for me. It was a brand-new life.

I have gone back to Hungary several times, and I cannot find myself anywhere. There’s nobody there anymore. It changed. It’s more like the United States now because it became a free country, no Russians anymore. They took over, the democracy, and they have all kinds of access to get imports and exports all over. 

So that’s my story. I believe I’ve covered everything. I’m just very happy in this country. I have a son and a grandson, and I have a wonderful husband, Lester, who is telling his story. I believe I covered the whole thing, which I wanted to tell.

Interviewer: You called it a ghetto. But before that it wasn’t called a ghetto. What made it a ghetto? In other words, that word ghetto, what defines when it became a ghetto? Can you tell us that?
SCHONSTAL: Yes. It was the ghetto because you were closed in. You were restricted to go anyplace else but the designated area. And that’s why. You were wired in. You were hungry. You could not get to places where you wanted to go, just where you were designed to be. That’s the only place you could be.

Interviewer: Before that you lived in an apartment, and you lived in a neighborhood you could relate to today. And the next thing you know, the freedom that you had to walk around the neighborhood was restricted. Barbed wire. That type of thing. And that was where the word ghetto — I find it interesting that we refer to low-income neighborhoods in this country as ghettos.
SCHONSTAL: Yes, yes.

Interviewer: I’ve traveled around the country a lot and I’ve seen some pretty nasty-looking neighborhoods, but I haven’t seen any barbed wire. I haven’t seen anything keeping people restricted to that area [inaudible — three people talking at once].

Male voice with European accent: The ghetto was a certain part of a city that within a certain perimeter may have included several streets and several blocks that was barbed wired and only one gate to enter. It was guarded by . . .

SCHONSTAL: Hungarian Nazis. Yes.
Male voice with European accent: With weapons, so there was no way to go anywhere.

SCHONSTAL: Yes, that was the ghetto [two or three people talking].
Interviewer: In the Warsaw ghetto, they had streets and cross streets, but the perimeter was blocked off.

SCHONSTAL: You didn’t have stores to go to. People were hungry. You didn’t have access to get food. I thought I was a spoiled child because I was raised like an only child. My sister and brother were grown when I was a little kid. But I had to go through all that, and it left a mark on me. I’m kind of bashful, as you can see when I’m talking.

Interviewer: It’s interesting. I hear that from other survivors.
SCHONSTAL: Really?

Interviewer: Yes, I do. I hear that. In fact, one of the women I interviewed about a month, month and a half ago, it was really interesting. She said that when she was a child she was very outgoing, very happy. She said, “And once this happened…”
SCHONSTAL: It takes away your self.

Interviewer: She said she’s not an unhappy person by nature, but really lost her personality because when she left she ended up going on a ship going to some island camp somewhere, spent a month. They were in the hold of the ship. It took a week to get there. They spent a month in a camp on this island, got on another ship, spent a month on that ship going to the United States — in the hold. And she was young. She was probably about your age. About seven, I think. And she said that. She said that until then she was a very happy-go-lucky, vivacious kid. She said not anymore. She said her friends know, they understand where she comes from. Whenever she goes anywhere, like a theater or whatever it is, she has to sit close to the exit . . .
SCHONSTAL: Oh, my God. No, that doesn’t happen.

Interviewer: From being claustrophobic on that ship, being down in the hold of that ship for a month . . .
SCHONSTAL: Oh, I see. OK. That’s interesting.

Interviewer: It’s interesting, and that’s why I say everybody’s story is a little bit different. People say it’s all the same, but it’s really not. It’s not the same. Because we’re all individuals. Things affect us differently.
SCHONSTAL: Even in school, Chris, when they called my name to talk in the class, I blushed like crazy, and I was so intimidated all the time.

Interviewer: Self-conscious.
SCHONSTAL: Self-conscious, yes. I have that in me, and I can’t get rid of that. Even just talking. My husband thinks I’m very sure of myself because one time we were in Reno and they called me up on the stage because a guy was doing tricks, this and that. He called me up and I went along with that. So he thinks I’m OK with all this public access, but it’s not true. Deep down I’m not. I’ve been shy. Oh, you had a camera on. I didn’t know that.

Interviewer: This is important to what you just told me.
SCHONSTAL: I see. See, I wasn’t nervous right now.

Interviewer: If I had the light working, you would be. You’d see the light on and you’d know.
SCHONSTAL: I see that light on. Yes. Interesting.

Interviewer: Well, that’s great. Thank you so much!
SCHONSTAL: You’re welcome.

Interviewer: Perfect. Well, we got 52 minutes out of you, believe it or not.
SCHONSTAL: Oh, my Gosh!