Joska, my father

My father's yahr-zeit, the anniversary of his death will be this week. He died 38 years ago at the age of almost 75. He had a good life, he would have said. A good life, but not an easy life. He was born in 1901 into an era full of promise, particularly for a Jewish boy growing up in Budapest in the twilight years of the Hapsburg Empire. His parents, Károly, a country boy from Cegléd and Matild, a country girl form Buják were building a successful delicatessen business in the rapidly developing ninth distirict, the Ferencváros. Károly was to become the president of the grocers' federation, an honour and an acknowledgement of his vision as a businessman. Budapest was a prosperous city, the fastest growing city in Europa, largely due to the enterprising spirit of Jews. Jews transformed the Hungarian economy and brought it in line with the economies of Western Europe. The promising world of the late Hapsburgs disintegrated with the First World War. Nothing was the same after that. While the followers of the Awakening Hungarians' Association (Ébredö Magyadork Egyesülete) marched along Mester Street, they threw Jews from the upper stories of buildings to their deaths. A friend of my grandparents, the police district commander, warned them to lock their doors as a precautionary measure. Károly was a sergeant in the Royal Palace Guards during the war, his close friend, General Bauer, commanded a Hungarian regiment, both Jewish, both Hungarian patriots, but that world existed no longer. Joska was 13 years old when the war broke out. He was given a piano for his Bar Mitzvah. He was a talented, musical boy. Music ran in the family, Matild had a sweet singing voice and a vast repertoire of Hungarian songs, Joska's cousin, Árpád, was a promising violinist, accepted at the Budapest Liszt Music Academy. During the war he enlisted in the gypsy orchestra of one of the Grand Dukes, and that ended his career as a classical violin virtuoso. Joska loved tinkering with the piano, not taking formal lessons, just playing whatever he felt like. He was good enough to accompany General Bauer, who enjoyed singing, in Schubert songs. Joska's parents harboured the ambition for him that once he completed his schooling at a commercial gymnasium, and gained his matriculation he would get a white collar job, a tisztviselö, an office holder, an officer, in a bank, perhaps an insurance company, a position with status and a pension on retirement. They did not want to burden him with the running of the grocery business, which involved long hours, heavy physical work, the need to be at the markets at sunrise, and being in the shop till late at night. In the event he found employment with a car franchise firm, importers of among other marques, the Spanish luxury cars, Hispano-Suiza, which they sold to landed aristocrats. Joska's job involved accompanying the drivers and delivering these machines to the country seats of their purchasers. Joska was a good looking, well spoken young man with excellent manners, just the right person for the task. Unfortunately, just as Joska got married, in 1930, in the middle of the great depression, the car company folded. The market for Hispano-Suizas collapsed, and Joska was out of a job. Getting work during the depression was almost impossible. Joska worked as an agent for film distributors, but his income did not cover the cost of the tram fares that he needed to call on his customers. He managed to get a trading licence, a requirement to set up in business, as a wholesaler. He bought goods in bulk, items such as toothpastes, soaps, toiletries, chemicals for the mixing of paints, and sold these in small lots to small corner stores, drug stores, paint suppliers. He would go around the city, take the orders, and an elderly Jewish man, Mr Pollack, would deliver the goods on a tricycle with a large box in front. This business filled a need, it got by, it provided an adequate living, if it did not make a fortune. When Joska was conscripted into the Hungarian Army, at the outbreak of the war, then transferred to an unarmed labour unit, things got difficult, but my mother managed to keep the business going. Joska adjusted well to army life, made friends, and was very fortunate to serve under decent-minded benign army officers, unlike my uncle, Anti, who served under brutal sadists. Once Joska reached the maximum military age he was released from military service, and was back home with us, until the German occupation of Hungary, when all able-bodied men were conscripted again. He served in different parts of the country, and in the end he was marched off to Austria, to the notorious concentration camp of Mauthausen and from there to the Günzkirchen sub-camp. He survived the brutality, the privations, the beatings, because he never gave in. He was determined to survive and be there for his two sons. He made himself invisible, avoided drawing attention to himself, survival was everything. When he was liberated he was just a skeleton, sick with typhus. He recovered, driven by his strong will and determination, as well as unpredictable luck. Saving, nurturing, bringing up his two sons was everything to him. He was set on moving to New Zealand because he hoped that his sons would have a better life here. He had an idealized picture of New Zealand, but for him New Zealand proved to be the paradise that he dreamed about. He worked hard to earn a living, worked overtime, but he also enjoyed his leisure, tending his garden, working as a public servant with minimal pressures and few responsibilities. He was no businessman because he was averse to risk taking, but he would have made a good salesman, were it not for his limited English. He was instantly loved by all who knew him. He was also loved by all the animals that he encountered. Animals are often excellent judges of human beings. He had a tough life, but he would have said that he had a good life. When he died he was ready to go, he had achieved all that he wanted to achieve, and enjoyed universal respect.