Peter Baruch: My Story <br/>Part One: Escape from Poland

Part One: Escape from Poland

Amongst Peter Baruch’s belongings there is a rug made of ‘plush’ fabric which was made in his grand-father’s factory in Lodz. Peter’s mother wrapped it around him to keep warm as the family made their escape from Poland. It remains his only tangible memory from his brief life in Poland.

By Peter Baruch

My story begins in Lodz, Poland on 23rd July 1938, the day I was born. My parents, Klemens and Marysia Baruch had me, their only child, somewhat late in life. They had lived in Zagreb, Yugoslavia for several years, where my father represented Polish textile companies. When my Mother became pregnant they returned home to Lodz, so that I would be born on Polish soil.

We were once a well-established, large Jewish family living comfortably in Lodz. We had servants, a nice home, a country retreat, a car with a chauffeur. When I was born I had a wet nurse, which was then the custom. Our life was trouble-free, and we were a close knit family.

Peter with his parents, Marysia and Klemens Baruch.

The Baruch family came from a village called Dzialezy. Our oldest known ancestor was Mojzesz (Mosiek) Baruch. He was a weaver by trade. Early in the nineteenth century he founded one of the largest weaving factories in the village of Pabianica, an industrial village that later became a suburb of Lodz. Mojzesz Baruch was my great-grandfather.

In the early 1880’s Mojzesz purchased a property in Lodz situated at No. 8 Wieckowskiego Street. It was here that he set up his sales office and warehouse. He had four sons whose names were Majer, August, Izydor and Pinchas Selig who was my grand-father. In 1898 my grand-father Pinchas Selig established Baruch and Company at 80 Piotrkowska Street in Lodz. It was a weaving mill of ‘plush’ fabrics and employed 40 people. At that time, Lodz was a well-known large textile centre, often referred to as ‘the Manchester of Poland’.

My father, Klemens, was one of seven children. He was the second to youngest. He had three brothers and three sisters. Klemens was very close to his youngest brother, Wicek. They spent a lot of time together as children, students and young men. They studied together at University in Berlin and Vienna, and later shared an apartment in Lodz. Both were fluent in several languages: Polish, German, Russian, French, English and Yiddish.

My mother, Marysia’s, background is less clear. Her maiden name was Bender. At the time we left Poland in 1939 her parents were still alive, as were her two brothers, Adash and Jusio (Jozef). The Bender family was also involved in textiles. Adash, the eldest was a paediatrician, Jusio was a textile representative for Japanese companies in Poland. His main client was Mitsui.

We were a comfortably-off middle-class family. All the family had their own homes and businesses. Outside Lodz, the Baruch family owned a country estate named Baruchovka, where the family spent their holidays. It was quite heavily forested, and had its own railway station which still stands today.

Generally, the family enjoyed a comfortable, trouble-free life.

Baruchovka: the Baruch’s country estate was taken without recompense and is now a housing estate.

Jusio Bender with Marisa and Klemens Baruch, Lodz 1939

The site of the textile factory at 8 Wieckowskiego Street, Lodz, as it is today.

In 1939 Lodz was the 3rd largest city in Poland, about 3 a three hour drive from the capital, Warsaw. It had a population exceeding 700,000: around one third were Jewish, one third German and one third Polish.

It was a very sophisticated, cosmopolitan city with many beautiful buildings, parks, cafes, restaurants, museums, concerts and galleries. The many mills were owned by the Jewish and German population, with the work force being mainly Polish.

When Lodz was invaded by the Nazis in 1939, the Jewish-owned mills were handed over to new German owners. Germans were then encouraged to move to western Poland, which had been annexed to Germany. Eastern Poland was in the hands of Russia, as a result of a pact signed between Hitler and Stalin.

Decision to leave

In 1939 there was much discussion amongst the family as to what we should do. The general opinion was that we should stay put. The family did not believe the Germans were as bad as the many stories coming out of Germany depicted. They were after all, an educated race who had suffered badly after WW1. There were many Germans in Lodz, and they seemed decent enough. Hitler, the despotic elected German Chancellor, would soon be removed, and life would get back to normal as it had after WW1. (The War to end all Wars!)

For some reason my mother disagreed. My parents were very aware of the undercurrent of anti-Semitism that was prevalent throughout Europe at the time, and still remains today. Jews were blamed for socialism, for capitalism, and for every misfortune that people suffered. They were even murdered just for being Jewish.

My mother spoke to her brother, Jusio, who had business dealings with the Japanese vice-consul, Chiune Sugihara in Kaunas, Lithuania. We had been told that he was willing to issue Jews with transit visas to Japan. My father was not so sure that this was the right move. He, like so many Jews, thought this whole, bad business would blow over, and life would return to normal, but in the end my mother prevailed. She was particularly protective of me. She was even prepared to have me converted to Catholic if it meant saving my life. As things turned out this would not have made any difference.

Kaunas And Chiune Sugihara: Visas For Life.

Kaunas is a small city on the border of Lithuania and Poland. In 1939 it had a large Jewish population. Most were wiped out by being shot by the Nazis in late 1940.

The Japanese Government maintained a small Consulate in the city. The Vice-Consul there was Chiune (Sempo) Sugihara. He was accompanied by his wife, two infant sons and his wife’s cousin. Sugihara had been tasked with reporting to the Japanese government on German and Russian troop movements, as well as running the day-to-day business of the Consulate.

In early 1940 Sugihara met a young Jewish boy, Solly Gaynor, at a sweet shop. The boy was asking his aunt who owned the sweet shop to give him some money to see the new Laurel and Hardy movie that had just opened. It was the Jewish festival of Hanukah, and the boy’s parents had made him donate his Hanukah money to Jewish refugees, then crossing the border from Poland to Lithuania, to escape the Nazis who had entered Poland.

Sugihara felt sorry for the boy and offered him the money after the boy’s aunt had refused. The boy had never seen a Japanese person before, and thought the man looked strange. The boy said that he could not accept the offer so Sugihara said, ’Consider me your uncle’, so the young boy accepted the money and went to the movie. As the boy was leaving the shop he turned around and said to Sugihara, ‘Tonight we are having a Hanukah party at home. As you are now my uncle, I want to invite you’.

That evening there was a large family gathering at the boy’s home, together with some Polish Jewish refugees. As the celebrations were commencing there was a knock on the door, and there was the Japanese Vice- Consul and his wife. From then a friendship blossomed. Sugihara was deeply moved by the plight of the Jewish refugees. One man told of what he had been through and burst into tears. Sugihara was keen to help, but anguished over where to begin.

Sugihara decided, after some deep soul searching, to issue transit visas to Japan for the Polish Jews. To obtain the visas it required an end destination, and a Russian exit visa. A number of Jews in Kaunas were Yeshiva (a Jewish orthodox religious study centre) students from Holland and they approached the Dutch Consul to assist. The Dutch suggested an end visa to Curacao in the West Indies, which was at that time a Dutch protectorate, and did not have any visa requirement. It did require the Curacao Governor’s consent, and it was decided to omit this requirement from the transit visas.

Sugihara sent his family to an hotel so they could not be implicated in his actions, which were without his Government’s consent. He then, with his German assistant, started issuing visas to Polish Jews.

In early 1940 my parents and Uncle Jusio were finally convinced that we must leave Poland. Early one winter morning my parents loaded our Fiat car with what they could take, and we left for Kaunas on the Lithuanian/Polish border, about a three hour drive. Lithuania had by then fallen into Russian hands, and we felt comparatively safe there.

Uncle Jusio met us in Kaunas and took father to the Japanese Consulate. The scene there was one of sadness and hope. The gate remained locked, and outside scores of Jews stood patiently, quietly, hopefully, that they would get transit visas for Japan. This sight of hope mingled with hopelessness was deeply moving for Chiune Sugihara, and he allowed the waiting Jews to enter into the Consulate ten at a time, and began issuing transit visas. As word of his actions spread so too did the crowds outside the Consulate.

So desperate were the Jews, that one friend of my father’s jumped the fence of the Consulate, climbed through a window and confronted Sugihara in his study. Sugihara was shocked, but my father’s friend got his visa.

The Japanese Consulate, Kaunas, where Peter’s uncle Jusio and father went to secure visas to make their escape. It is now named Sugihara House.

Desperate people queued outside the consulate to try to get visas to escape from Poland.

Day and night, with little respite, Sugihara and his German assistant, later assisted by a Rabbi from the Yeshiva, continued to write transit visas right up to the time he was forced to leave Kaunas. Even on the station as his train for Prague was pulling out, he was signing visas. At the station scores of Jews ran after the train waving and shouting ‘thank you’.

Over a period of a few weeks Sugihara issued around 2500 transit visas, and in so doing saved up to 6000 Jewish lives, as many visas were for more than one family member.

Lithuania was now controlled by Russia, and to leave you required a Russian exit visa. The exit visas were not too difficult to get, as Stalin was concerned about the great numbers of Jews from Poland entering Russia. He considered Jews trouble-makers and a burden, (even though some of Russia’s leading communists had been Jewish, and most Jews were socialists at heart). He therefore ordered his authorities to expedite exit visas for Jews, and get them out of Russia. Even so, some bribery money had to change hands to get the exit visas. Those who were unable to obtain visas to leave were threatened with removal to Siberia. The Russians would not, however, allow the Lithuanian Jews to go, and as a result most perished when the Nazis occupied Lithuania.

We spent a short time in Wilno (Vilnius), the capital of Lithuania, where we stayed with the Wilenskis, friends of my parents from Lodz. They later ended up in Sydney, Australia.

At the same time as father has got our visas, Uncle Jusio had also managed to obtain visas for himself and his girlfriend. He was to return to Lodz to collect her and then meet up with us again in Wilno. Lodz was by then occupied by the German army. He didn’t return. We learned that he was denounced by a Polish neighbour as being Jewish, and was shot in the back while trying to escape from the Nazis.

The rest of the family still believed we would not come to any harm and decided to stay. Their fate was sealed with that decision. It was not long before, with Poland now under Nazi occupation, anti-Semitism really came into the open and was rife in Lodz.

Jews were rehoused in the poorest area of Lodz, which became the Lodz ghetto. This was the first ghetto in Poland, and the second largest after Warsaw. My family were soon moved to the Lodz ghetto where my maternal grand-parents and my uncle, Adash Bender, all perished. Some of my Baruch family were also sent there, but their fate is unknown. Towards the end of the war there was a major uprising in the ghetto. I am told my Uncle Adash was one of the leaders and this is how he was killed. Those who did not die there were transported to Auschwitz, where their fate was sealed.

With the German army invading Lithuania, and the Russians in retreat, we made for the Russian border. Our intention was to take the Trans-Siberian railroad to the port city of Vladivostok, and from there a ship to Japan.

This was a perilous journey with German planes bombing and strafing the long lines of refugees. We still had our car, but this was confiscated by the Russians on the border. Entering Russia was also very risky, as the Russians had threatened to send foreign refugees entering Russia to Siberia. We had obtained Russian exit visas, essential to get out of Russia, and this obviously helped us. From there, we made our way on to Moscow.

In Moscow we stayed for several days at the Hotel New Moscow, courtesy of the American Joint Distribution Committee (JOINT). From Moscow the Trans-Siberian Railway left twice weekly for Vladivostok, from where we hoped to get a ship to Japan. There was a cost of US $200 per person for an In-Tourist ticket, and by then most refugees were out of money, so only a limited number could go on to Vladivostok with JOINT covering the cost for us. We were amongst the lucky few to get the tickets, as there was a limit on JOINT’S available funds. Those unable to make the journey were sent to Siberia where conditions were harsh, but some survived.

The journey took from 4 to 10 days depending on conditions. We went in mid-winter so the journey was slow, but not arduous. The scenery, was, at times, spectacular. There were frequent stops where we were able to buy food, and we had bunks to sleep in. Above all else, however, was the euphoria amongst the refugees that we were on the move at last, and we were getting further away from the war.

We arrived in Vladivostok, Russia’s gateway to the East. We were put up in a hotel overnight. The Russians confiscated what little valuables we had left, and that we were unable to hide. The Japanese were sending boats over to Vladivostok to take refugees to the Japanese port of Tsuruga.

Jusio Bender was denounced by a Polish neighbour as being Jewish, and was shot in the back while trying to escape the Nazis.

The Amacusa Maru took the refugees from Vladivostock to a new start in Japan.

We boarded the Amacusa Maru, an old cattle steam ship built in 1901 weighing 6152 tons, for the three day voyage in unbelievably rough seas to Tsuruga. There were a few cabins for the lucky ones but most of the time we spent on deck sleeping on mats. We ate mainly apples and dry bread. Regardless the refugees were grateful and happy, as we had our passports to freedom. When we saw the green hills of Tsuruga we said a short prayer for our salvation.

A new life was beginning.

For my children and grand-children with love. My story I dedicate to my late parents, my family who perished in the Holocaust, my new friends in Japan, and Chiune (Sempo) Sugihara whose compassion and humanity are responsible for my being here today.

Peter Baruch

Peter Baruch and his family were resettled in Wellington, where he grew up. Peter is now 83 and lives in Australia, close to his 5 children and 6 grandchildren. In Part Two of this story, which we will run in the next update, Peter tells of growing up in Wellington and the characters of the Wellington Jewish Community in the post-war years.

You can read part 2 of Peter’s story here.

You can read more about Chiune Sugihara here

Peter Baruch: My Story Part One: Escape from Poland