California Dreaming in Vienna

The first few days in Vienna passed like a whirlwind for my father. On their first day there, my father, his sister, brother-in-law and niece went to the Police Headquarters in order to apply for and receive their refugee ID cards which afforded them free transportation around the entire city. After receiving his ID card my father parted ways with his family and headed straight to the American Embassy to meet with the Air Attache. The deputy Air Attache welcomed my father and named him an ex-Air Force Intelligence Agent because of the undercover work that he had done while still in Hungary. As a thanks for his efforts, my father was promised that he would receive help in getting to the United States.

Feeling positive about his meeting, my father went back to his accommodations to meet with his family and after a nice lunch they decided to make use of their free transportation and see the city. Vienna was preparing itself for the Christmas holidays and the city looked magical adorned with festive decorations. On street corners he saw boy and girl scouts with signs reading "Ungarnhilfe" (Help Hungary) and boxes ready for donations. It was so touching for my father to see and experience the love and compassion that the Austrians had for the Hungarian refugees such as himself and his family.

On his second day in Vienna, my dad was able to visit the office of the Order of Malta. As his great uncle was a Knight of Malta, the Order was happy to offer and provide financial help for the Makays. Finally it felt like the pieces of a long broken-apart puzzle were starting to fall into place and that life would soon become functional again.

When Christmas Day arrived, my father and almost every Hungarian refugee in Vienna attended mass at St. Stephen's Cathedral. The ceremony was beautiful, yet everyone sat in their pews in tears....this special holiday reminding them of loved ones left behind in war torn Hungary.

The first of January, 1957 signaled the start of a new year...a year of freedom for my father and all of the refugees. Plans were being made to make the long journey to the United States. My father had his heart set on starting his new life in the "Land of the Free". He was so dead set on living in America that when a secretary from the British Embassy paid him a visit conveying an invitation from Lord Rothemere, who was a good friend of my grandfather, to stay in a private suite in his castle in England, my father politely declined. My father had dreams of warm weather and sandy beaches. His cousin, Magda, was already living in Los Angeles. He was 27 years old and ready to see what the next chapter of his life would bring in a new land. The thought of living in a castle in a cold climate again was not what was calling him. He also knew that he wanted to live independently and not as a permanent guest. Lord Rothemere was gracious and my father felt nothing but gratitude for the offer, yet he stood his ground. He was going to America!