Angels and White Envelopes

After my father's high school graduation in June of 1948 it was time for him to decide what field of study he wanted to pursue at the University. Although he had originally wanted to study agriculture in order to become the director of his family's estates and properties, the fact that the Communists had confiscated all of the land that belonged to the Makays shattered his aspirations. He found himself looking to pursue a degree in architecture instead. In September of 1948 he entered the University of Sciences and quickly became enamored with his studies in architecture. He enjoyed drafting and planning buildings and looked forward to someday becoming a success in his newfound passion. Little did he know that this too would become nothing more than a dream destroyed.

On December 8th, 1948, shortly before midnight, the Makay family was rudely roused from their sleep by the incessant ringing of their doorbell. My grandmother ran to the front door to see what the commotion was all about only to find one Hungarian and two Soviet KGB officers standing there. They forcefully made their way into the apartment and told my grandfather that he was under arrest, then commenced ransacking the home. They opened, overturned, knocked over and raided everything in the two room dwelling for two hours while my father and his family stood watching in horror and helplessness. At 2 o'clock in the morning they left taking my grandfather with them. My father and grandmother were left in shock and my father remembers attempting to comfort his mother as she cried inconsolably. He then tried to clean up the mess that the officers had left behind.

After about 15 minutes of straightening up and trying to put things back together, my father and grandmother discovered to their horror that all of my grandfather's Swiss bank account documents were missing. The KGB officers had stolen them, which meant only one thing...the Makays had lost every last cent that belonged to their family. They had, at this point, lost absolutely everything.

As if any more insult could be added to the injury already imposed on my father and his family, two weeks before Christmas break my father was called into the University's Communist Superintendent's office. The conversation went as follows:

Laszlo (my father): "Good morning, Superintendent, my name is Makay Laszlo, I was told that you wanted to see me."

Superintendent: "Yes. I wanted to tell you something. You know that Hungary is a worker's country. I have just received a report that your father was working for those Capitalist rats, the Americans. Therefore, you are nothing than an undesirable blue blooded bastard and I am letting you know that as of now you are expelled from this University. You must leave at once."

Laszlo: "Thank you, Superintendent. I understand."

With this, my father turned and left the office. He made his way out of the University saying his goodbyes to friends and classmates who all shook his hand quietly. Their faces showed their shock and sadness, yet they kept quiet in order to not get expelled themselves. He remembers that only one "brave girl" said anything to him...she said "Take it easy, nothing lasts forever."

My father, then only 19 years old, was devastated. He found solace only in his mother's kind and encouraging nature. In the weeks that followed they visited with their lawyer in order to find out more about his father's whereabouts. Finally, they received word that the Communists had discovered that my grandfather had been secretly cooperating with two Americans diplomats, Selden Chapin and James Lee, which was why he was arrested and taken to a prison in Kistarcsa. They were told that he was being held indefinitely but that they could leave Hungary unharmed. The notion of leaving while my grandfather was being held prisoner was not something that my father and grandmother would even entertain as an option. They decided to stay, and make do with what little they had. My grandmother took on jobs knitting sweaters, baking, and cleaning furniture. My father, the little prince who once slid down palace bannisters and was patted on the head by the world's greatest dignitaries, found work as a delivery boy, drafter and janitor.

Much to their surprise, as they tried to scrape by with odd jobs here and there, my father remembers that white envelopes started to appear under their apartment door once a month. While nothing was written on them and no notes were to be found inside, there was always a small sum of cash in them. Try as they might, my father and grandmother could not figure out or find out who was leaving them this money. Could it have been one of the Jewish families they helped save? The American soldiers they kept out of harm's way? To this day it remains a mystery....yet it is those small sums of money, so generously given at a time when everyone was struggling to survive that kept my family from complete destitution. Whoever the angel or angels were that did this for my family...may they have a special place in heaven saved for them.

Saved from the Horrors of Nazi Germany....

In 1942, the Makays grew tired of splitting their time between Cegled and Budapest and made the decision to stay in Budapest full-time. My father enrolled in the exclusive and very strict Budapest Benedictine school to continue his studies, and in the evenings the family would gather to listen to the BBC's radio reports to keep abreast of what was happening. In early March of 1944 the Makays were feeling optimistic enough to celebrate my father's 15th birthday a month early. They rented a box at the National Theater and watched a play alongside other dignitaries. That would be my father's first official public appearance.

The family continued to live with as much of a semblance of normalcy as possible, and were grateful that at that time, Hungary was relatively quiet compared to other neighboring nations. Sadly, not long after my father's birthday celebration, everything took a turn for the worst. On Sunday, March 19,1944 Germany invaded and occupied Hungary. The Prime Minister at the time, Miklos Kallay, escaped in the early morning hours and sought asylum at the Turkish Embassy. While this was all happening, my father was attending mass at his school's chapel, and once mass was over he and his classmates were greeted with the shocking news that the Germans and Gestapo had arrived in their city.

When my father got home, he found his parents devastated, and his uncle, Kamillo, shaken at the news that his friends had been arrested by the Gestapo. The family's somber mood only grew as they discovered the very next day that Edmund Veesenmayer, who was Hitler's personal representative and Gauleiter had arrived in Budapest accompanied by General Winkelman the Gestapo Chief. All Hungarian Jews were then ordered to wear a yellow Star of David and register themselves with the new Nazi government. The populace went into a panic.

My grandfather started taking meetings with several of his Jewish friends who came to him for help. The Makays had to be very cautious about who was seen entering their home or calling them as they suspected their phones of being bugged. Although he knew he would be risking his life as well as that of his own family, my grandfather made the decision to do whatever he could to save the people who had come to him for help. He had the family's loyal butler drive six Jewish families and their belongings to a remote hunting lodge in the mountains that the Makays owned. Once the families were settled in the lodge, my grandfather warned them to make sure all windows and doors remain closed at night so that no light would escape and draw attention. He promised to return the next day with news and more provisions.

When the next day arrived, the Makays not only came back to the hunting lodge with whatever they could to make the families feel comfortable, but they also brought along one more family. As they were getting ready to leave for the lodge earlier, a young Jewish boy arrived at their residence on his bike pleading for my grandfather to save his family. So, once again, the butler drove his truck to pick up the boy's family in a town called Nagykata and took them up to the join the other six families. This made for close quarters with 35 men, women and children in a four bedroom dwelling. Extra beds were brought in, sheets were hung up to create separate rooms, two outdoor toilets were built to accommodate the extra occupants, and my father attempted to occupy the kids by playing with them.

My grandfather had the difficult task of telling all of the families that now Hungary was completely under Nazi occupation. He had to ask them not to use the fireplace or wood stove for fear that smoke would escape the chimneys and attract the attention of German planes or surveillance patrols. Instead of cooking for themselves, my grandfather told the families that he would have his chef prepare them their daily meals which would be delivered by either the butler or my father. They would be given a petrol heater to keep warm and the children would have to play indoors and quietly. He offered them what little hope he knew of himself...that the Anglo-American forces as well as the Soviet Red Army were both advancing and that soon they would be liberated from German rule. He warned them that should they hear any suspicious sounds coming from outside the lodge that they should all immediately leave the building and run into the woods in different directions and find cover. Seven families to run in seven different directions....always on alert, always fearing the worst.

My grandfather kept true to his word, and the families were fed daily by his chefs. They did not have access to kosher foods, but he provided them the cleanest foods possible and made sure the children had plenty of milk and fruit. The butler made it a point to take different modes of transportation, horse and buggy or motorbike, and varied his routes daily on his trips to deliver food to the families in order to avoid raising suspicion from the Germans who had declared martial law which stated that violators were to be promptly executed.

The seven Jewish families lived in my family's hunting lodge from March 23, 1944 until March 2, 1945 for a total of 344 days. While they lived there in hiding, the Makays bore witness in horror to so many other Jewish families being taken to Germany or to forced labor camps in and around Hungary, and feared themselves that somehow it would be discovered that they were hiding those seven families. Luckily, the families remained undetected and safe, yet sadly, this would not be the end of the nightmare that Europe was enduring.

Of Family, Altruism, and a Crumbling Europe

Not long after my father lost his hearing, the Makay family was subjected to more changes, more turmoil, more life events than they could not have imagined would happen in a lifetime, much less in such rapid succession.

In the Spring of 1939, after nearby Czechoslovakia was occupied by Hitler and split into the Czech Republic and Slovakia, Hungary was able to re-establish a Polish-Hungarian border. Since one of the Makay family relatives was Istvan (Stefan) Bathory, one of the most beloved Kings of Poland, my grandfather was elated and went to celebrate this victory with the Polish Generals. Sadly, this celebration was to be short lived. On September 1, 1939 war broke out between Germany and Poland, and while the Polish Army fought valiantly, they could not overcome the new German Wermacht. Germany's tactical Blitzkrieg broke up the Polish resistance and Poland was split between Germany and Russia. At this point, thousands of Polish refugees poured into Hungary and Romania. My grandfather and great-uncles rushed to the Polish border to help as many of the refugees as they could.

My grandfather was able to offer sanctuary to three Polish colonels and their families. He had them move into the elegantly appointed apartments that had been vacated by the Austrian diplomats who had left Hungary to find refuge of their own in Canada, as they were anti-Nazi. The Austrian Embassy was closed down and the feeling of impending doom was becoming more and more palpable. My father, his family, and all of Hungary were caught between two vicious, totalitarian forces, Germany and the Soviet Union.

During this time, my father, who was 10 years old, befriended the Polish colonels' children, as they spoke some French and my father was fluent in the language. He played with them and tried to make them feel as comfortable as a young child is capable of. His mother invited them all in to their home for dinner, and my father remembers all of the wives crying, brokenhearted at having to leave their homes, and possessions behind with no knowledge of if they would ever be able to return. On Sundays, the Makays took these families to Church with them and on outings to the Zoo, the Royal Palace, and Cegled. When Christmas came around, all of the families were invited to spend the holidays with the Makays at Keszthely, and while the children tried to make the best of it, my father remembers the atmosphere being rather somber as the parents were all too wise as to what was brewing on the political front as well as melancholy about holidays past in a home country they were not able to return to. New Year's Eve was just as dismal with the women worrying about their childrens' futures and the men trying to analyze the political situation and what it would mean for all of them.

After the holidays, the families returned to Cegled and the children went back to their studies. Besides learning their lessons, my father and his sister were also taught protocol and etiquette. On Sundays, they continued to visit the Polish colonels' families and play with the children, until my grandfather was able to secure safe passage for the Polish families to Ankara, Turkey with help of a high powered Turkish attache. Life was made to be as normal as it could be under the circumstances, even though my father remembers that more and more government VIPs were coming in to consult with his father from Budapest and both my father and his sister were instructed to keep quiet about who was visiting. The months to follow would see Europe broken and faltering further and further with the passing of each day, and the Makays would find themselves saving more families from certain death.

How the World Went Silent Overnight....

As if living with the fear that life as they knew it would soon be over was not enough, on Christmas Eve of 1938 my father and his family were dealt a tremendous, personal blow.

It all started off innocently enough...the Makay family had gathered at their home in Pusztamonostor for the holidays. My father was 9 years old. It was December 24th and they were enjoying a family dinner while the children excitedly anticipated the arrival of their gifts from Little Jesus. After dinner they were led by their butler to the green salon as the custom in Hungary was that the children were not allowed to view the Christmas tree until later in the evening, and the tree was holding state in the red salon. At 7:30 that evening, a handbell was rung and the children were allowed to enter the red salon and were greeted by a beautifully, candle-lit Christmas tree. The family gathered around and sang caroles and recited poems while my father and his sister opened and played with their new toys. The atmosphere was warm, cheerful and inviting...there was not a hint of what was about to turn their bright holiday so dark. At 10pm everyone said their good-nights and the children went to bed.

Shortly before midnight, my father remembers waking up in a panic. He was having difficulty breathing, and felt an increasing amount of pain with every breath he took. He was unable to make a sound when he tried to shout out for help. As if by divine providence, his sister walked into the room to check on him and saw that my father's face was turning a dark shade of blue and that he was starting to suffocate. She ran, horrified, to her parent's chambers and told them that Laszlo couldn't breathe. The adults, including their Uncle Miklos, ran to see what was wrong and realized that my father was near death, struggling to take a breath and losing consciousness. Within a second, Uncle Miklos had taken a nearby pair of scissors and clipped off one of my grandmother's fingernails and had her shove her finger down my father's throat in order to open his airways by force. My father then was able to regain his ability to breathe. Uncle Miklos suspected that the swelling in my father's throat was being caused by the onset of diphteria.

While my father lay in his bed with his mother and sister by his side, my grandfather called for a doctor to come to their home right away. As their local doctor was away for Christmas, they had to call in a medic from a neighboring town who rushed in and gave my father a diphteria vaccine. By 2:30 in the morning my father started to feel better and was able to fall asleep and everyone retired to their rooms. At 10:00 the next morning which was Christmas Day, my father awoke to see his mother standing by his bedside. He sat up and stared at her blankly not understanding why she was moving her mouth but he couldn't hear any words. He asked her "Mama, why are you speaking so softly?" and at that point she knew something more was wrong with her son. As she started to run in terror to find her husband, he happened to walk in and also spoke with my father who, again, could not hear anything that was being said to him. My grandfather decided that they would leave at once and head back to Budapest. Their butler packed all of their belongings in a rush and the chauffeur was called to have the car ready immediately. When their family limousine pulled up, four mounted policemen also joined them in order to escort them as they rushed to the city.

At the Royal Officer's Hospital in Budapest, all of the on-duty army doctors and nurses were waiting for my father's arrival and immediately checked his ears, nose, throat and eyes. They discovered that his left ear had lost all sense of hearing and that his right ear had suffered a 75% hearing loss. They determined that this loss would be irreversible. Up until this point in my father's life, he had had normal hearing, so this news came as a terrible shock to my father and his family and they were left stunned. The following day my father was taken to see the best ear specialist in the city and it was discovered that my father had had an adverse vaccine reaction that caused him severe nerve damage and rendered him profoundly deaf. There was speculation as to whether my father was injected with a spoiled vial of vaccine serum, but whether the vaccine serum was spoiled or not, there was nothing that could be done to reverse the damage done other than to simply move on with life and learn to live it in a new way. That is exactly what my father did.

My father continued to see different hearing and ENT specialists over the course of the next year, and was able to learn how to lip-read. He says he remembers that it took about a year for him to "get used" to his new and silent life. He went back to school, and then after the school day was over he would have to come home and re-do his lessons in order to make sure that due to his deafness he wasn't missing out on any information that was given during lectures. His sister, Eva, his mother, and the nannies all helped him to keep up with his studies and learn as if not at all disabled. Thanks to his strong will, discipline, determination and the love and support of his family and staff he was able to maintain his status as an excellent student and excell at all that he put his mind to....and continues to do so to this very day. A feat that all too many people without a single disability never accomplish. My father, gentleman to the core, yet with the valiance of a warrior.

A Brief History in Pictures

This past weekend, my father came over with the two albums of family photographs that he was able to acquire after his escape from Hungary in 1956...which is a story for another day. He sat with me over tea and patiently showed me each and every photograph, reliving the moments as if they were just yesterday. I find these moments with my dad both fascinating and heartbreaking. I have heard all of his stories time and again throughout my childhood, but the older my dad gets, the harder it is for me to see him so sad at the bitter memories of having his life and family literally torn apart by the invasion of Communist Russia....again, another story for another day.

In the meantime, I want to share some of the pictures from my father's albums.

1.My grandfather, Istvan Makay

2.My Aunt Eva, my father, and my grandmother Erszebet Makay.

3.My grandfather (on the left) with one of his assistants.

4.Our family's Coat of Arms.

5.My father's Aunt and Uncle, Margit and Kamillo Karpathy.

Shaking Hands With General Douglas MacArthur and Lunching With Prince Edward

My father's first five years of life were spent in what he recalls as being a peaceful and harmonious time. He and his sister got along well, even though she did like to dress him up in her clothes from time to time, as most big sisters are prone to do. They spent time in their homes in Budapest, Pusztamonostor, Kestzhely, and Tiszaug. Along with their parents, Eva and my father lived with three full time nannies their father had hired. He made sure that each nanny spoke a different language so that my dad and his sister would be exposed to and learn as many languages as possible. One nanny hailed from Germany, another from France, and the third was native Hungarian. On Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays the kids spoke only in Hungarian. Tuesdays and Wednesdays they spoke French, and Thursday and Friday they conversed in German. Try as he might, my grandfather could not find an English nanny, but he would have loved for his children to also become fluent in English. I can only imagine how much of a blessing learning English early on would have been for my dad. He had to learn the language after coming to the United States with over 90% of his hearing lost, yet somehow managed to master the language by spending time in the public library in downtown Los Angeles reading books and without actually being able to hear it.

One of my dad's fondest memories from his childhood occurred in 1933 when he was 4 years old. At the time he and his family were staying at the Royal Palace visiting his godfather, Colonel General Kamillo Karpathy, who was the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Hungarian Defense. One evening, during their stay, General Douglas MacArthur came to the Royal Palace for a gala dinner. As the American General was entering the foyer, my father happened to be crossing the hall and he recalls being surprised to see someone in what he thought was such a strange uniform, one which he had never seen before. General MacArthur was surrounded by my dad's father, godfather, godmother, the American ambassador, Nicholas Roosevelt, a few Hungarian generals, and the American military attache. When General MacArthur caught sight of my father, he called out to him cheerily; "Hello, young boy!", and asked my godfather whose son he was. Kamillo answered gesturing towards my grandfather that he was Istvan Makay's son and his godson. My grandfather then waved my dad over and General MacArthur shook his chubby little hand. This made such an impression on my father, who had no way of knowing who General MacArthur was at that age, that he remembers that moment to this very day. The General's presence and persona were so commanding yet friendly that the wide-eyed little boy could not help but be starstruck.

Another exciting occasion for my dad was when the heir to the British throne, Prince Edward, visited Budapest. It was 1935 and my father was 6 years old. The British Prince came over to the Royal Palace and watched the ceremonial change of guards from a balcony in the Palace's inner court. There was much pomp and circumstance as the marching royal bodyguards, crown guards, and palace guards in their colorful uniforms made their procession, and then the Prince and my father's family gathered for lunch. Just as any of us would have a friend come over for some sandwiches or a BBQ, my dad and his family had the future King of England as a lunch guest. So normal for them....yet so far fetched for the rest of us. These were just two of the childhood memories of great individuals who he and his family spent time with. I can almost imagine....my father being a typical young boy, probably wanting to go play outside while having to display impeccable manners in front of such impressive guests. A little prince through and through.