The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum’s archival collection preserves the fate of Holocaust victims through artifacts, documents, photos, films, books, personal stories and more. Included in the Museum’s collection are family letters and postcards donated by Hungarian survivor Elizabeth Sandy. When I visited Elizabeth in her home, she shared her story of survival.
“I was born May 19th, 1923 in Budapest, Hungary. My father’s name was Arnold Garbovits and my mother was Karolin Drach. Both my parents came from large families. I had a brother named Istvan (Stephen) who was four years younger than me. My father owned a hat factory and retail shop in Budapest’s fashion district that he ran with his brother and sister. The business employed over 300 people. Some clients included Hungarian actresses. My father was born in Aszód, a town located northeast of Budapest. He was raised in a religious home and his father (my paternal grandfather) was a cantor. I didn’t come from a religious home, however on holidays my family and I attended services at Dohány Street Synagogue, also known as the Great Synagogue. It is the largest synagogue in Europe, seating over 3,000 people. Thousands of people that died during the Holocaust are buried in the synagogue’s courtyard. I recall a happy childhood. My father gave me lilacs every year on my birthday and we had a large extended family that lived nearby. Many of my cousins that I shared a warm relationship with were doctors, lawyers and architects. After I finished my gymnasium studies from academic high school, antisemitism against the Jews became more and more prevalent. Nazi sympathizers included the Arrow Cross Party (fascist organization that controlled the Hungarian government) as well as people I knew my entire life. A gentile childhood friend that I had always been close to called me a dirty Jew and said she no longer wanted to be my friend. I enrolled in business school, however I was forced to quit in my second year. I was told I was no longer permitted to attend classes because I was a Jew. I also had aspirations of being an opera singer. I dreamed of some day performing all of the great works, but those hopes were shattered. The voice coach told me if I wasn’t a Jew she would have accepted me as a pupil. A real slap in my father’s face was when a gentile woman who had been an employee of his took control of the hat factory.”
Elizabeth recalled Germany’s invasion of Hungary.
“On March 19th, 1944, I was hiking in the mountains with friends when I saw a swarm of German planes darken the sky. I ran back home, the invasion of Hungary by the Nazis had begun. Anti-Jewish laws were enacted, one of which was the requirement to wear the yellow star identifying us as Jews. My father was so affected by wearing the star that he walked with his head down. A passing stranger told him, ‘Lift up your head, this won’t last forever’. Little by little more restrictions were added. We had to obey curfews and turn in our valuables that included radios, candelabras, jewelry and rugs. My family and I (including cousins) were forced to leave our home and move into a crowded apartment called the Star House, in a Jewish ghetto. The yellow-star houses were a network of nearly 2,000 designated places of residence for approximately 220,000 Budapest Jews. Shortly after moving into the Star House, my father and brother were ordered to report for forced labor. This would be the last time I would see the two of them. In November 1944, my father and Stephen were sent on a death march from Budapest to Austria. Stephen was killed during the march. Years later his remains were discovered in a mass grave outside Vienna after his ID was found in his coat pocket. My father likely perished around the same time. During an air raid I hid with other building occupants in the basement, where we were separated from the gentiles that didn’t want to be near us. Men who were doing forced labor came down into the basement and said they would legally marry women. Supposedly these laborers could save women from being deported if they obtained a marriage certificate. One of these men, Gabor Schwarcz, would become my husband. I was then instructed to march in formation with thousands of women in my age group that included my cousins. It was at this point that I decided I would try to escape. I hid my star and climbed to the top of an unlocked building intending to jump off and kill myself. At this point I changed my mind and ran back to the house that I shared with my family before the war. The building superintendent hid me behind the cupboard in the kitchen where I heard our former neighbor tell incoming tenants that the previous family will not be coming back. I knew at that point I had to leave my hiding place. I found out my mother was living in another ghetto house and I went to see her. She bribed a police officer to take me to the so-called Glass House, a building used by the Swiss diplomat Carl Lutz to help hide Jews in Budapest during the Holocaust. I was among 3,000 Jews who found refuge at the Glass House. Gabor worked as a fake guard at the building and we reconnected. Although more than 400,000 Hungarian Jews were murdered in the Holocaust, over 60,000 survived thanks to Lutz’s efforts. Years following the war, Lutz became the first Swiss national named ‘Righteous Among the Nations’ by Yad Vashem. In late 1944, we were liberated by the Russians. Sadly, in December 1944, my mother was deported by train to the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in Germany where she perished.”
Elizabeth reflected on life after the war.
“Following liberation, Gabor worked as a police officer in post-war Hungary. He quit the force after a gentile policeman shot him for being a Jew. Gabor and I returned to my family’s former home in Budapest and found postcards written and thrown from a train by my mother during her deportation to the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. Miraculously someone had found the written notes and returned them to our home address. I later donated them to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. Gabor and I traveled to Bergen-Belsen hoping to find out some news regarding my mother’s fate. I went into the camp’s crematorium and saved some ashes, symbolically thinking they were my mother’s. Outside of Bergen-Belsen was a DP camp where we lived for four years. Gabor worked as a chauffeur for the Joint Distribution Committee and my son, Robert, was born there in 1947. I had one of the first Caesarean sections (Kaiserschnitt) ever performed in Germany. We emigrated to the United States, arriving on Independence Day, July 4th, 1949 and settled in Worcester, Massachusetts. My daughter, Carol, was born there in 1953. In 1954, we changed our last name to Sandy and moved to Detroit, where Gabor opened his own bakery. We lived in Detroit for 40 years before moving to Florida.”
Elizabeth shared her words of wisdom.
“Learn not to hate. Respect all people regardless of their faith or culture. There’s never a moment I’m not thinking of the family I lost.”
