Getting Back to the Roots....Part I

Even though I want to jump right in and start telling you all of the stories that I grew up hearing about my father and grandfather, about the people they met, the experiences they had, the atrocities they endured....I know that to make it all make sense I have to keep things chronological. So, I will start off with some deeper layers of my father's history, it may get boring at times, but bear with me...the history lesson will soon enough give way to what I think merits being an award winning documentary. =) Over the course of the next few blog posts I'll go over all that I've gathered from my dad in regards to his bloodlines, otherwise this one post could easily become overwhelming to read...and write!

My father tells me that one beautiful summer's day in August of 1940 the family was gathered in Pusztamonostor (another of their homes) and after lunch on the terrace his sister, Eva, asked their father to tell them about their family. My father was 11 years old and it was at that time that he got to learn about his ancestors in detail. Until then, he and his sister were just kids who were growing up in a life of privilege, but really not privy as to why. The following is some of what they learned that day.

The Makay family are the direct descendants of St. Stephen (Istvan in Hungarian), the first Christian King Of Hungary. King Istvan's mother, Sarolta, was sister to a woman named Karolin who married Duke Doboka, the ruling Prince of Transylvania at the time, and who is the farthest back to whom we can trace our bloodlines. Duke Doboka had a son, Duke Csanad, who then became King Istvan's cousin. When King Istvan was coronated in 997, my father's ancestors (the descendants of Csanad) stayed in the royal court and became members of the Royal Council.

The Makays were one of the seven biggest landowning families in all of Hungary at the time. Sadly, the Hungarian Royal House of Arpad died out in 1301 making way for foreign dynasties to move in and take over. Foreign dynasties ruled over Hungary until 1918 with the Habsburg family as the longest ruling. Due to the fact that the Makays were well known for being independently minded, pure blooded Hungarians, they were ostracized and expelled from the Royal Court and sent to live on their private estates. Sadly, things didn't stop there. Over time, the Imperial Court in Vienna started confiscating the Makay estates one by one and ordered the family to live incognito. The land and estates that were taken from the Makays were then given to Austrian families that the Imperial Court recognized as princes, counts and barons while the larger parcels of land were kept by the Habsburgs. Although the Hungarian people were unhappy with Austrian rule and several upraisings took place (in 1514,1609,1703,and 1848) all of them failed and the Habsburgs continued their reign. The Makay family had a particularly difficult time with the Austrians as they avidly participated in the upraisings as well as helped the freedom fighters. One of my father's ancestors was executed in 1711 for his activity against the Austrian Empire and after the failed War of Independence (1848-1849) my father's great-grandfather, Imre Makay, was sentenced to 10 years in an Austrian Prison. His son, Istvan (this is very much a family name as you will see throughout this history lesson), was left to govern the remaining family estate in Tiszainoka. Istvan later had two sons, Imre and Istvan (little Istvan if you may) who was to become my father's father.

It wasn't until 1868 that the Imperial Court and Emperor Franz Josef became more lenient in their governance of Hungary and allowed for a limited Hungarian government in Budapest at which time a dual monarchy with limited independence and freedom was created....this became known as the Austro-Hungarian Empire. My great-great-grandfather was unhappy with the outcome as he wanted Hungary to regain its full autonomy, but, as a private citizen there was not much he could do other than go home and finish raising his sons. Although he did all that he could to ensure that the boys had a rich education leaning towards agronomy, both Imre and Istvan decided that they wanted to join the cavalry. This disappointed their father and he tried, unsuccessfully, to change their minds. He did not want his sons to end up serving the Habsburgs and infantrymen, but the boys had plans of their own,

After four years of vigorous military training little Istvan (not so little anymore) became a lieutenant at the age of 22. Unfortunately, WWI had broken out a year earlier, and he was ordered to go to the Eastern Front to fight against Imperial Russia. Three months later, Istvan was captured by the Russians in the Ukraine and spent 5 years in Irkuts, Siberia as a prisoner of war. Upon his release and return to Hungary he and his brother, Imre, were promoted to Captain and their new assignment was at the Royal Hungarian Defense's Personnel Dept. located in the Royal Palace. Not long after, at a debutante ball, Istvan met and fell in love with an 18 year old girl named Erszebet. On August 14, 1924 they were married and on May 28th, 1925 their daughter, Eva, was born. My father graced the family with his presence four years later on April 14th, 1929....and so the story begins....

St. Stephen

Of Tiaras and Government Cheese...

My mind is all askew as to where to start with this account of my father's life. I have so many stories to tell, I have so many things to gush about with pride when it comes to him, and yet it's so hard to pin down on paper. I have an outline of my dad's life and history and I will be fleshing it out with him every time we see each other over the next few weeks and then sharing it all on this blog. The vintage photos in his albums will be visiting my scanner and I'll be sharing the images that I grew up with with all of you. It gives me the chills. At the same time, I feel like even though I have written some pretty personal details about my life as a traveling fashion model, and my life as a mother, this recanting of my dad's life goes beyond personal.

You see, I've not ever been really all that open about my family history. I've talked about it with people who have found out and asked me for more details...but I've never walked around announcing that my dad is a Hungarian Prince. Probably for the same reason I've never walked around announcing that I worked as a fashion model. It sounds SO pretentious, so unreal....and for some people it is. But, this has been my reality since birth. I did not grow up with the trappings of privilege, as a matter of fact due to my father's disability and the fact that it caused him to always be the first to be layed off work and the last to get hired (due to being "over-qualified") a large portion of my life was spent in government subsidized housing, eating government cheese and donated canned goods. I remember eating beans and rice for weeks on end because it was the cheapest thing my parents could afford while we lived with my grandmother and aunt in a cramped, two bedroom apartment.

My father was a hard working man. Still is. A man with bloodlines leading directly to St. Stephen, the first Christian King of Hungary and many other heroes of his native country. My father, the proud son of a man who saved seven Jewish families as they were being led to a concentration camp and risked his family's life to keep them safe, fed and alive. There is no drop of laziness in his genepool...and yet there we were....on welfare. I remember many times having friends' parents drop me off at a nice condo complex up the street from my own roach motel apartment after high school for shame of where we lived. How would anyone ever believe that my dad was a Prince? So I kept my family history on the down low and lived life as a normal kid in Los Angeles. Taking the bus home from school every day, wearing the same ratty pair of shoes all year long, watching drug deals happen in the alley under our kitchen window. A far cry from what any of today's popular royals could ever imagine. The closest thing to a tiara I had was a picture in my dad's album of our family's crown jewels.

And to be honest, all I cared about at that time was what any other kid would care about....how much Sun-In to get in my hair, will so-and-so want to go to prom with me, will I ever ace algebra? I knew my dad had an amazing story, but where to go with it? A veritable quandry. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops (as I am doing now) but at the same time I wanted to keep it a well hidden secret. I didn't want to answer all of the inevitable questions that would occasionally pop up..."Wow, do you live in a castle? Do you know Queen Elizabeth? Dude, you guys MUST be rich, right?!" No, no, and no. Although by marriage my dad really IS related to Queen Elizabeth. Funny how all of the royals are somehow related....I definitely never felt like a Princess even though my father's gentility was more King Arthur than Uncle Sam...but underneath it all I knew that I came from someone and something very, very special.

It hit home when I was 16 years old and my father took my mother and I to Hungary to revisit his roots. It was his first time back in his native land since his escape in 1956. Watching my father cry for the first time in my life as he revisited the place of his birth where so many wonderful and terrible things happened to him and his family was more than words will ever be able to express. We took a trip to Keszthely near Lake Balaton where my father grew up in one of Hungary's most beautiful palaces and when my father neared the palace docent (it had been turned into a museum) she quickly bowed, said "Oh your Highness!" and let us enter without waiting in line or putting on the mandatory felt booties that kept the rest of the tourists from damaging the original hardwood floors. To see my dad look around what was once his home...set up as a display....both hurt and amazed me. My history became reality that day. Later, as a Sophomore in college I studied abroad in Salzburg, Austria and while there Otto von Habsburg (may he rest in peace) sent me a letter asking if my father would be visiting me in Austria because he would love to meet with him. Otto and my father were the first two of their families to forge a friendship. I'll tell you more about this history later....Then when I went to visit my grandmother, who at the time was still alive and in Budapest, I remember the officers on the train who were checking passports stop and stare at me and ask "Do you realize the importance of your last name?" as did the owner of the bed and breakfast I stayed in. Duke of Csanad, Prince of Transylvania....all of a sudden it didn't seem so far reaching to me. People knew who my father and his family were...and that they were held in such high regard and with such fondness.....it meant the world to me. Laszlo Makay of Mako and of Gelej, de genere Csanad, Prince of Transylvania...otherwise known as "Apa" ("Dad" in Hungarian). It still amazes me when I think about it.....