Peter Baruch: My Story Part Two: East to Freedom

Part Two: East to Freedom

This is the second part of Peter Baruch’s story about how the family fared after leaving Japan, how they came to Wellington and rebuilt their lives there. The first part of Peter’s story is here.

by Peter Baruch

Tsuruga and Kobe

In 1940, on arrival in Tsuruga we were welcomed and cared for by the local Japanese population. After a short rest there we were moved by train to Kobe, a trading city on the East Coast of Japan, a 4-5 hour train trip from Tsuruga. We were accompanied by a member of the Kobe Jewish Community.

We were surprised that a Jewish Community existed in Kobe, Japan. Not only did it exist but it thrived. Kobe was an International trading port, and prior to WW2 many European Jews had settled there and set up Trading Companies.

I revisited Tsuruga and Kobe again in 2016. Although our stay was short, the welcome I received from City officials, the Mayor and other dignitaries on my recent visit will always be etched on my mind, and remind me of the good that still can exist in our world.

Tsuruga is a tidy, small city, known as the Port of Humanity, as a tribute to Sugihara, the Tsuruga people and the refugees. There is a well-kept and interesting museum dedicated to Sugihara and the refugees, known as The Centre of Humanity. It contains documents, photographs, articles belonging to the refugees and shows a video of interviews with survivors, filmed in USA and Australia, most of whom will have now passed on.

Japan, in the 1930’s, was a very secure place for Jews. The Japanese people admired the Jewish work ethic and acumen in business. At that time they encouraged Jews to come to Japan, in particular to settle in Manchuria, (Harbin is the capital), which at that time had been occupied and belonged to Japan. Many White Russians escaping from Communism had already settled there. Sugihara had worked at the Japanese Embassy there as a junior diplomat prior to his appointment to Kaunas and had married a Russian woman there. In order to be accepted he converted to the Russian Orthodox Church. They later divorced.

In the 1930’s the Japanese could not understand why Germany, and so much of Europe, was so strongly anti-Semitic. They despatched a Minister to Germany to meet with Hitler, and to ask that German Jews be allowed to emigrate to Japan, specifically to populate Manchuria, using money donated by American Jews. Regrettably nothing came of this request. Had Germany agreed, many millions of Jews may have been saved.

Our transit visas were for 10 days, but leaders of the Kobe Jewish Community approached the Government, and were told that the refugees could stay as long as they wanted, and no action would be taken against us.

Kobe, at that time was a relatively small city. Today it has a population of 1.5 million people. It was heavily bombed during the war, and suffered a devastating earthquake in 1995 that destroyed most of the city. Today Kobe is totally rebuilt and is a thriving, modern city with wonderful architecture, beautiful shopping precincts and wide boulevards. The rolling green hills surrounding a natural harbour remind me of Wellington, New Zealand.

We were housed in several Jewish-owned properties in the Kitano District, up on the hill, close to the Jewish Agency Office and the Synagogue. This was important as many of the refugees were religious. None of the original structures remain today. Our financial resources were severely limited, as by then, we had used most of our available funds. We were reliant on JOINT and the generosity of the Kobe Jewish Community.

I shared a room with my parents in a type of boarding house, along with several other families. It was cramped. There was no hot water and primitive toilet and cooking facilities, but this didn’t bother us. The feelings of freedom and security more than off-set any feelings of trepidation.

I do have some simple memories of our time in Kobe. We would go to the public baths to wash. Men on one side, and women and children on the other. I remember bowing to statues of the Emperor and crouching at tram stops in the Japanese way, not understanding why my parents wouldn’t crouch.

I remember playing in the street with other refugee children and being joined by some Japanese boys. The game quickly deteriorated and the refugee children ran away being chased by the Japanese boys. I was by far the youngest of the refugees. I couldn’t keep up with the others, and the Japanese boys caught me and gave me a thumping.

By mid-1941 there were around 4000 Jewish refugees in Kobe. As summer turned to autumn we had been there nearly 6 months, and I had celebrated my 3rd Birthday. There were rumblings that Japan was to enter the war on the side of Nazi Germany, and the refugees became nervous. JOINT and the Kobe Jewish Community started arrangements to evacuate us.

It was logical for America to take the refugees, but the American Government were put under pressure by Congress and agreed to accept only 500 refugees. Approaches were then made to Britain, which was already under attack, and subject to severe bombing. Britain agreed to arrange for some refugees to be taken by three of her Dominions: Canada, Australia and New Zealand, which were all relatively safe havens. It was agreed that remaining Jews would be resettled in Shanghai, China.

Kobe to Wellington

The time came to leave Kobe. It was August 1941, mid-summer. We said goodbye to our new found Kobe friends, and left on a freighter bound for Shanghai, our first port of call. By then there were many refugees in Shanghai, but our time there was limited, and we were soon on a Dutch freighter bound for Surabaya in the Dutch East Indies (Indonesia). Japan entered the War that December.

I don’t really know how my father managed it, but we obtained visas for New Zealand. My parents had never heard of it, and found out it was somewhere in the South Pacific. They envisaged tropical climate, warm waters, friendly natives and far away from the war. This paradise was to be our home.

We were shipped to Shanghai where we were to stay for some weeks waiting for our onward passage to New Zealand. En route, we stopped in Surabaya, Indonesia. Housed in a small hotel, I shared a room with my parents. It was stifling hot and very humid. Recollections are few, but one incident stays in my mind:

I was 3 years old. My parents had put me to bed, and when I was asleep they met some friends for dinner in an adjoining restaurant. It was very hot, and I was dressed in pyjama bottoms only. By then I had developed a good tan, and looked a bit Indonesian. Suddenly I awoke, and finding nobody in the room I opened the door and went downstairs.

At the entrance to the hotel sat an elderly Indonesian man. I stopped and we started chatting, as only a 3 year old, who only speaks a smattering of Polish, and an Indonesian can. He took me by the hand and out onto the street. We walked a short distance and he pointed out my parents sitting in a restaurant. We then returned and I sat with him outside the hotel. Shortly after, my father dashed past us and up the stairs, obviously to check on me. He returned ashen-faced and distressed. His little boy had disappeared. He took no notice of the elderly Indonesian and the little street urchin sitting with him until I said, ‘papa’, and he realized the street urchin was me!

We were put on a Dutch freighter bound for Sydney, Australia. Our friends from Wilno, the Wilenski’s, had already settled there , and we stayed with them a short while. My parents liked Sydney, its climate and easy lifestyle, but our visas were for New Zealand and we had to move on.

The total New Zealand intake of Jewish refugees was 15, and on the voyage from Sydney life-long friendships were made. The Frankel family became our closest friends. They were from Krakow. They consisted of Wilek, Perla, and their son Bertie who was my age. The extended group included Wilek’s older brother Meyershachner and Perla’s younger brother Bertchik, who was 16. Also from Kracow was Asher Wiener. Apart from us, Gutek Wilcek was also from Lodz, as were the Goldfile family, who later moved on to Canada. From Warsaw there were Ozer Galler and his brother-in-law, Manek Gutgeld, who later married my mother after my father passed away.

The Trans-Tasman crossing took about 4 days and was quite rough, as it always is. On board I became very friendly with Ozer Galler, who spent a lot of time with me and showed me all over the ship. I remember when he took me to the engine room, where I was hypnotized by all that went on there. I was very unsettled on the trip. I screamed a lot and took to biting people. I guess I was quite traumatized with all the moving by then. Asher Wiener and Gutek Wilcek shared a cabin, and didn’t get on, resulting in lots of arguments and practical jokes on each other, which neither appreciated. All the refugees had stories to recount about their miraculous escapes and survival.

We finally arrived in Wellington on 28th October 1941. Our journey had taken 2 years. It was Labour weekend in New Zealand, so all the shops were closed. Also, rather than the beautiful ‘South Sea Island Paradise’ that my parents were anticipating it was blowing a howling southerly wind and pouring with rain. The refugees all wondered what they had struck.

We were taken in by the Wellington Jewish Community, and we were billeted by an elderly couple in Island Bay, (right where the blistering southerly struck!), Mr and Mrs Pizer. We stayed with them only a short time before we found our own accommodation.

I learned later that we were supposed to go to Auckland, but the Wellington Community, keen to increase their numbers, held on to us, and I must say they were very kind and helpful.

The Early Wellington years

After a short stay with Mr and Mrs Pizer in Island Bay, we were offered assistance by the Jewish Community to find our own accommodation. It was Christmas 1941, and accommodation was hard to get, and to afford. My father obtained a job in a factory making army boots.

At that time New Zealanders had little exposure to Europeans. They lived in quite an insular society. For many Kiwis, anybody who couldn’t speak English had to be the enemy, and so many Kiwis avoided us, while others welcomed us with open arms, affection and true Kiwi hospitality.

All that we could afford was a room in somebody’s house which I shared with my parents. We would also share the kitchen, bathroom and laundry. Many homeowners were under pressure with the men away to war. This was not a happy time for my parents. I was still an unruly child, still affected by all the changes in my young life, and so we moved frequently. At that early age I picked up English quickly, and soon forgot Polish. I would tell my parents off for speaking Polish to each other.

Peter with his lifelong friend, Bertie Frankel, Wellington 1944

Mrs Baruch and Peter, safe in Wellington

After some months of moving from room to room in different homes, my parents decided to rent a house for themselves. The only way to afford this was to rent rooms out to other people to help cover the rent. So, suddenly, we had a ‘boarding house’.

The house was at 34 Plunket Street, Kelburn, up a lot of steps. It still stands there today. The house had five bedrooms, a lounge/dining room, a sun porch, a large kitchen, a laundry, one small bathroom and an outhouse toilet. It had a turret which I likened to a church. There was a small back yard. In those days we cooked over a wood fire - gas was installed a couple of years later). Washing was done in a copper; hot water came from a boiler; there was an outside safe to keep things cool and, it being wartime, we had to use newspaper for toilet paper.

My parents took in mainly single refugees as tenants. Ozer Galler, who had become our close friend from the voyage to New Zealand took the large front bedroom. My parents and I shared the second bedroom. Emil Fromer, another refugee, and Leopold Hartman, a Polish poet and communist took two more bedrooms. The fifth bedroom at the back was taken by a Kiwi, Jean Lewis, who worked in a city dress shop. Our landlord, Mr Lancaster, came each Saturday to collect the rent, and over the years he and my father became good friends.

My mother had never had to work in her life. In Poland she had servants, met her friends in cafes and had a nurse for me. Here she was suddenly thrust into a situation where she had to cook, clean and wash for a group of tenants, as well as look after me and my father who by then had also joined the EPS, a volunteer police force. Each evening after working in the boot factory he would don his tin hat, take his knapsack and torch, and patrol the suburb ensuring that blackout curtains were in place and there were no strangers in the streets.

Other refugees had joined the Home Guard who trained each weekend at the local school. Most had wanted to join the army to get at the Nazis, but they were too old and classified as foreigners.

I was enrolled at the local kindergarten, and later at Kelburn School and life became a bit more normal, in spite of the war restrictions and rationing.

Our Happy Boarders

Our boarders were a strange group, but they all seemed to get on well, except when my parents had to intervene to keep the peace, particularly on Saturdays. Here is a pen sketch of them, as I remember them:

JEAN LEWIS: was a divorcee. She had been married to a wealthy man. Now in her 40’s she worked in a Willis Street dress shop. She had the small back room off the sun porch. She was a heavy smoker and strong drinker who loved her ‘Scotch’. Jean had a heart of gold and adored me.

Each Saturday afternoon she would arrive home tipsy from the dress shop with a young American soldier on her arm. She would always bring home a present for me, which I eagerly waited for. After making a show of giving me my present she would retire to her back room with her soldier. Jean was obviously an alcoholic, but she was very good to me, adored my parents, and often sided with them in an argument with the other volatile tenants. We remained close until her death the 1960’s.

My parents always welcomed soldiers and sailors to our house wherever they were from, and they often hosted a group for lunch on a Sunday. At times our house looked like an American army base. There was no shortage of chewing gum or bubble gum for me, or American cigarettes for the boarders. I also enjoyed lots of rides in American jeeps!

Wellington, at that time, was full of American marines as their major camp was nearby at Paekakariki, about 30kms north of Wellington. From there, after vigorous training, the marines were shipped off to the Pacific where some of the most titanic battles of WW2 were played out. Many never made it home.

EMIL FROMER: had arrived from Poland shortly before us. He was an excitable, bombastic bachelor who argued with everyone. He became a keen punter, and every Saturday he would have two radios tuned to two different racing stations, and he would monopolize the telephone ringing his bookies. This caused no end of arguments with the other tenants, and even fist fights that my parents had to break up. After the war he married a French woman, had two daughters, and was a very successful importer of French perfumes, toys and china. The family moved to London where he died in the 1980’s.

LEOPALD HARTMAN: was a Polish Bohemian Communist. I’m not sure if he was Jewish or Catholic. He was a scientist and a poet. He would recite his poems to anyone who would listen, and at one time attempted, without success, to teach me the finer nuances of the Polish language. He mixed with poets, writers, painters and artists; married a New Zealand lady after the war; and then returned to Poland.

OZER GALLER: was our good friend from the voyage to New Zealand. He was argumentative, pig-headed and very kind.

The arguments between him Emil Fromer, Leopold Hartman and a drunken Jean Lewis became legendary with my parents having to keep the peace, and me out of the way. At times furniture was thrown and blows were exchanged. Ozer had a heart of gold. He really cared for me. He was an avid stamp collector, and introduced this hobby to me at an early age. On the weekends he and I would be up early before the rest of the house, and have a feast of fresh white bread with schmultz (chicken fat spread) onion, salt and pepper. Imagine what that did to our arteries!

Ozer Galler (right) with Air Force friend, Japan 1946

Ozer had a burning desire to fight the Nazis, but he had been turned down by the army, and joined the Home Guard. After the war he joined the air-force and went to Japan as part of the J-Force to rebuild the country. Ozer had married Manek Gutgeld’s sister just before the war.

Manek’s father had despatched Ozer and Manek to another town to obtain false papers to leave Poland. While there, they were picked up by Polish police and thrown in jail. While in jail, the German army moved into Warsaw. Ozer’s wife was captured, and he never saw her again. Now on their own, Ozer and Manek escaped together to Kaunas and became Sugihara survivors.

Ozer was a keen swimmer and he would go each morning to the Freyberg Pool. One day in the 1970’s he had a massive heart attack while swimming, and died. I was called to the morgue to identify the body. Ozer had married Nina who had survived the war hidden on a farm. They met in Israel. They had one son, Dennis, who was tragically killed in a motor accident two weeks after Ozer’s death.

AFTER THE WAR: our boarders all moved on and were replaced by returned servicemen. By then I was at school, and at one stage our head-master boarded with us. Things were a lot quieter.

34 PLUNKET STREET still brings back many memories. Across the road I had a friend named Warren D***. He was a lonely boy, and spent a lot of time at our place. His father was away at war and his mother neglected him, as she was constantly ‘entertaining’ American soldiers. Often I would go to his place and a soldier would take us for a ride in a jeep, while his mother ‘entertained’ another soldier.

In the days immediately after the war, the Polish parties became legendary, and my mother was the leading hostess. Everybody wanted to come. They all dressed up. Lots of dancing, drinking, wonderful food and smoke filled rooms. Everyone smoked in those days. When it wasn’t a party it would be a Saturday night poker game, with several tables: men’s high stakes and ladies low stakes. Nobody would leave before the early hours of the morning.

School and The End of The War

In 1943, my father still worked in the boot factory, and my mother ran the boarding house.

I started school at Kelburn Normal Primary School, which recently held its 100 year anniversary. I was placed in the model class on my first day. This was a model of a country school with children from ‘tiny tots’ to form 2. It was used to train student teachers from the training college, situated across the road, in country school service. I finished up in the model school because my mother didn’t speak English at the time, and had agreed for me to be placed there, whereas many parents didn’t want their children in that class.

Initially my early years at primary school were not happy. I felt different to all the other children. My clothes were cheap or second-hand, and I often went to school bare-foot, not because I didn’t have shoes. I did have one pair, but because they were tight and I hated wearing them. By then I did speak English, and had almost forgotten Polish, but I was ashamed that my parents spoke very broken English. I was teased a lot and I hated the door-step sandwiches full of weird meats, (I’d love them now!), when all the other children had neat, triangle sandwiches with fillings like lettuce and Marmite, which I’d never heard of, for their lunch. My sandwiches were full of meat or jam as fillings. I usually threw them out, and by the time I was eight I was buying my lunch at the local shops every day: doughnuts, chocolate eclairs, fish and chips and soft drinks.

I also struck some anti-Semitism amongst the other children. I was teased, called a filthy Jew, and sometimes beaten up. I soon learned to look after myself, and with a growing temper I gave as much as I got. At age 6, I even had my own gang who supported me. We would bash other children who teased me. I remember when a boy called me ‘dirty Jew’ in class. I stood up and he ran out of the class-room. I chased him and the teacher had to restrain me as I bashed his head on the concrete playground. I was 6 years old.

In 1945 the war ended. I remember being taken by a friend’s mother to the victory parade, and waving a small New Zealand flag as bands and soldiers marched past. I can well recall the euphoria that gripped the whole country.

With the end of the war, my father’s work at the boot factory finished, and he was looking for a job. One day he went to the gas company which was advertising for meter readers. By the time he arrived all the jobs had gone. When he was leaving the building he noticed a sign saying ‘Fashions Limited- 4th Floor’. He went up and asked if they had any work. When he told them about his textile background they gave him a job as a storeman.

Fashions Limited, at the time, were New Zealand’s leading fashion manufacturers. As a result of the war they had the market to themselves, and would allocate to stores, rather than let buyers select. The only alternatives were imported garments from England, which was then getting manufacturing going again, but most of the cloth was being used to make suits for returned servicemen. In England, when they were de-mobilised, servicemen would receive a suit, a shirt, a hat, a tie and a pair of shoes. In New Zealand the returned servicemen were also able to apply to have allocated land for a farm, or licences to import goods, which were like gold, and many of them sold the licences to traders and lived off the proceeds until they could establish themselves.

So my father had a job, while my mother continued to cook, clean and wash for our boarders, and I continued to get into trouble.

In 1945 my father searched for our family by contacting refugee agencies, and having our name placed on notice boards in Europe. There were millions of displaced and desperate people in Europe, and everyone was searching for their families.

In 1941 my father’s younger brother, Wicek with his wife, Lala and their son Stephen had made it to Palestine through Italy, where they sat out the war. My uncle had heard that we may be in Japan and wrote on July 25th 1941, to the Jewish Community there in Kobe to enquire. He received a letter back dated August 1941 that was eventually delivered to him miraculously in 1946. It said we had left Kobe on August 2nd 1941, bound for New Zealand, and he should contact the Polish Embassy there. As a result of this we were reunited. In 1948 Wicek, Lala and Stephen arrived in Wellington. All the rest of our large family had perished in the Holocaust.

The telegram, dated August 1941, miraculously delivered in 1946, that reunited the Baruch brothers

Marysia and Klemens Baruch, with Lala and Wicek Baruch, Wellington 1950

Marysia and Klemens Baruch with Perla and Wilek Frankel

After about 12 months with Fashions Limited, my father left and started his own business. He called it ‘Siltex’ standing for silk textiles. He rented a small office which had been a Bank on the corner of Hunter Street and Customhouse Quay. It had a large walk-in safe with a heavy steel door which he turned into a storeroom for his fabrics.

He engaged a lady, Mrs Alger, with a work-room in Ghuznee Street to make ladies’ blouses and dresses and men’s dressing gowns, which he would then hawk around the country. In those days salesmen would travel by train, as most could not afford a car, and New Zealand roads were pretty rough. As a result, he would be away from home for long periods. My mother continued to run the boarding house and, now a bit older, I became more manageable.

The greatest difficulty my father had was getting fabric. This was strictly licensed, and despite many applications he only had a very small amount of license. Most had been given to returned servicemen, who in turn sold it on at a huge profit. Some of the returned soldiers started their own fabric importing companies which grew and were successful. Fabric was still very hard to obtain, with Europe still gearing up manufacturing industries, and world demand being extreme. My father, once established, appointed agents in the South Island and the business grew. Often he would have to close the books as we were over-sold.

The business progressed, and then, in late 1946, he had a massive heart attack which totally incapacitated him. He was 48. He was in hospital for 6 months, and then had to take it very easy. He couldn’t climb steps or go up hills, he had to watch his diet, and rest every day.

My mother took over the responsibility of the business, as well as running the boarding house and caring for a very independent young son. The many steps leading up to the boarding house became a challenge. I was 8 years old, and my Mother and I would create a chair with our hands, and carry my father up the steps.

My mother found herself in some difficulties in the business, as it was all very new to her. Gradually my father started assisting, mainly with book-work and correspondence. After a couple of disasters they made the decision to stop making men’s dressing gowns and concentrate on ladies’ dresses. This was my mother’s ‘forte’, as she had always been complimented on her dress sense. She appointed a new work-room in Lambton Quay - Siltex became a leading New Zealand Fashion House rivalling Fashions Limited.

My father bought our first car: a brand new Austin 8 with real leather upholstery. In those days all the cars came from England and were very hard to get. Austin, Morris, Standard and Vauxhall were the main brands. Some wealthy people imported cars from America such as Chevrolet, Chrysler and Buick. I remember father bringing the new car to my school to show me. I was very excited. Most of my friend’s parents had cars, but they were mainly pre-war models.

At that time we must have been doing quite well as he also purchased three old houses in Abel Smith Street which he converted to our own factory, offices and showroom. My parents employed machinists, cutters and a designer, Mrs Walker, who later was replaced by Jean Llewellyn, and the business grew from strength to strength.

Uncle Wicek and Lala joined the business for a short time, when they arrived, and then set up their own work-room. By then the boarding house was getting too much, and in 1948, just before the arrival of Wicek and his family from Palestine my parents had purchased our family home at 14 Flers Street, Karori.

I grew up there until I left home at 21, following my Military National Service and University. We still lived in that house when my parents died - my father in 1953, and my mother in 1965. The house no longer stands. My father purchased three additional houses that he rented out. Interest rates were very low, finance was easy to get and mortgages were interest only for 25 years. It was easy to make money, and most of the refugees started buying property.

After my father’s death in 1953, my mother became a fashion leader in New Zealand. She was the first manufacturer to go to Europe on a regular basis to attend fashion shows in Paris, London and New York and bring back the latest trends. She specialized in the better end of ‘mother of the bride’, evening gowns, and cocktail-wear. She introduced the ‘Little Black Dress’ to New Zealand, and for a time we had ‘Little Black Dress’ shops in all the major department stores. She won numerous awards and was popular and admired. She only employed women, and the Siltex Christmas parties became legendary, with suppliers and other manufacturers all wanting to attend. Many of the other refugees became involved in the fashion industry, and they all prospered. Unfortunately, despite her success, my mother over-extended herself and faced some financial difficulty.

Manek Gutgeld had been a crutch for her since my father’s death, and in 1956/7 while I was in the army they were married. He had saved a bit of money and invested it in the business, and it again thrived. Manek, who had arrived in New Zealand with us had remained a bachelor, lived in a room on Mount Victoria and worked as a book-keeper for Arthur Goodman, a furrier in Manners Street.

Manek joined mother in the business and moved into the family home. As a result of this, and his negativity and continual arguments with my mother, we didn’t get on. Later after he had retired and I had bought him out of the business, we repaired our relationship, and he was a wonderful Grandpa to my elder three children.

Our Fellow Survivors

THE FRANKEL FAMILY had become our closest friends. Like us, they had been through a lot and knew nothing of the fate of their wider family. Perla Frankel and my mother were especially close and spoke nearly every day. I found I spent a lot of time in their rented home on The Terrace, and later their own home in Wadestown. Bertie Frankel was my age, and as close to a brother as I would get. He would tease me mercilessly as he was 6 months older than me, but today we remain the closest of friends.

The whole family under Wilek’s guidance followed the orthodox Jewish traditions. They walked to Synagogue every Saturday morning, then home again. This was not bad when they lived on the Terrace, but when they moved to Wadestown the distance was around 5kms each way. I know, because I accompanied them when I stayed overnight on Fridays. They kept a strictly Kosher house, which was no mean feat in Wellington with its small Jewish population. They would have a Shabbat meal on Friday night with prayers, went to Synagogue on Saturday, and kept to all the traditions. All Jewish Festivals and Holidays were observed by them, and I have happy memories of Pesach, Hanukah and Succoth at their home.

Soon after moving to Wadestown they had a daughter, Miriam. Also living with them at that time were Bertchik who was at secondary school and went on to study engineering, and Meyershachner who often took the services at the Synagogue and taught at the Hebrew School. After the war they found several members of their family, brought them to New Zealand, and found them homes.

Wilek had a background in garment manufacturing from Krakow and so Perla and Wilek started a business manufacturing ladies suits and coats that proved to be successful.

In the late 50’s they decided they should follow Bertchik and move to Israel, where they could lead a full Jewish life. My mother was devastated to lose her closest friend. By then most of the family they had brought to New Zealand had moved elsewhere or were settled.

I remember seeing them off on the ship from Wellington, shortly before I went to London myself. Many tears were shed. They settled in London for a while, preparing for their move to Israel, and then tragedy struck with the sudden death of Wilek.

Bertie and Miriam both married Israelis and moved to Israel, and Perla followed with her sister, Branda and Meyershachner. Bertchik was already making a name for himself in Israel as a leading Air-Conditioning Engineer. He installed air- conditioning in many of the new buildings including the Knesset (Israel’s Parliament).

Perla, who had remarried, passed away in 2013 being well into her nineties. Miriam had died a few years earlier. Bertie and I still keep in touch. He and his wife, Nira, have two sons and grandchildren, all in Israel. Bertchik is now in his 90’s with children and grand-children.

ASHER WIENER AND GUTEK WILCZEK were both on their own when they arrived. After the war Wilczek found his wife whom he brought to New Zealand. He had thought he had lost her and had started a strong friendship with his landlady Henrietta Levy, who was a widow with two daughters. Wilczek started a garment business, but made his money in property, and became very wealthy. He built the first owner-occupier block of flats in Wellington, and gave several leading developers their start.

Like the Frankels, he and his wife together with Henrietta Levy and her daughters, moved to London and he died there a very wealthy man. Wiener worked for a widow, Mrs Rothschild, who had a diamond and watch importing business, and he bought the business. He married an Aucklander, Essie Shenkin, and had three children. He did extremely well, and then moved the business to Melbourne Australia, where he too became wealthy. He died in Melbourne.

OZER GALLER AND MANEK GUTGELD are already mentioned above.

The Resident Immigrants:

Prior to the outbreak of the war, a small number of Polish Jews had already come to Wellington and settled there. We all became friends, and being already established, were of support and help to us.

This group included Drs Siegel and Slucki, who had been brought from Europe to help alleviate New Zealand’s doctor shortage. They had to sit some exams before they were admitted to the medical profession. Both married soon after arriving here, and Dr Siegel had two children. When he retired the family moved to Sydney. Dr Slucki suffered badly from asthma, and died in the 1940’s.

The Borrin family of Michael, Juta and their son, Ian lived in a beautiful, modern, new home in Karori with a magnificent, large garden. I spent a lot of time with Ian who was a few years older than me, playing the new board game ‘Monopoly’. For me their home was the ultimate in luxury, and they made it clear to me that I wasn’t to touch anything. Their 1938 black Buick was the most magnificent car I had ever seen. I looked upon them with awe, as they appeared so rich. Michael had a successful tie and handkerchief manufacturing business, and over the years built up a large property portfolio. Ian became a Lawyer, and then a Judge. He didn’t get married, and lived his whole life in the family Karori home. He died in 2015.

After the war Borrins found and brought Juta’s sister, Tusha Goldwug, with her husband Matchek (Norman) and son Tom to Wellington. They had spent the war in Siberia. They changed their surname to Goddard and Matchek to Norman. He had been a Judge in Poland, but in New Zealand, went back to University and became a successful accountant. He based his clientele amongst the Jewish refugees, who by then had growing businesses, including my mother. Tom was a couple of years older than me. We were friends and played a lot of cricket together, both in the back yard and for Wellington College, our secondary school. Tom was dux of Wellington College, and like Ian became a lawyer, and then a Judge. He still lives in Wellington.

Some of the other resident Polish immigrants were Leo Lipson, his cousin Emil Fromer (who was one of our boarders), Lil and Michael Sendyk who had a dress manufacturing business, Arthur Goodman who was a furrier and had several fur shops, his sisters and parents. One sister, Zena, married Dr Slucki.

Alec Katranski, a used car dealer, who started the rental car business in New Zealand, moved to Australia, started an equipment rental business, invested heavily in property, and became a millionaire. Also Pola Fantl who baked me beautiful bread rolls. Her son was an architect.

After the war, other relatives arrived. My parents brought out my uncle Wicek and his familyfrom Palestine. The Frankels brought out about seven of their relatives who had survived. Ozer Galler brought his younger brother, Aron, who had served in the Polish army. Aron married Zosia who he had met in Israel on a trip. They had two sons Leslie and David, both are doctors in Auckland. She became a close friend to my mother.

Later they brought out my friend and brief business partner, Danny Mintz from Israel, who passed away in Wellington in 2012. Others to arrive were Adam Fogel, Stan Geron and his father, Bob Grover, the Standen family who moved on to Canada, the Bandt family, Roma Aronson (Herrman) and her mother. All did well and had families in Wellington. Several were concentration camp survivors. All were welcomed and became part of the Polish crowd.

The Wellington Jewish Community:

Throughout the 40’s and 50’s Wellington had an active Jewish population, together with a social, cultural and religious life. After the tragedy of the war, life started to return to normal. The community had been boosted by the arrival of many Holocaust survivors and there was always plenty of Jewish activity. The Synagogue on the Terrace was well attended, there was a Rabbi and assistant Rabbi, and the Hebrew school flourished. On High Holidays there was always an overflow service.

Israel became a nation in 1948 and Zionism flourished. The bravery and success of the Israelis - attacked, outnumbered and surrounded by their arab neighbours - in the War of Independence brought immense pride to Jews throughout the world. In New Zealand many young Jewish idealists made Aliyah (emigration) to Israel, where they settled on Kibbutzim (collective farms) and helped to build the country. Among them was Bertchik Schor.

In Wellington, the community supported the Jewish National Fund, Youth Aliyah, Hebrew University and the United Israel Appeal, as well as other Jewish charities. Most children joined Habonim, the Jewish Youth Movement, which was akin to a scout group, with emphasis on Israel, Hebrew songs and dances, and encouragement to settle in Israel and help build the country. Each Christmas holidays there was a Habonim camp which brought together Jewish children from all parts of New Zealand for a couple of weeks in a tent on an outback farm. The children enjoyed Jewish culture, sport, singing and dancing and lots of fun. For some it was their only exposure to other Jewish children. I attended most of these camps from age 8 to 15, and always looked forward to them. Many did follow their dream and went to Israel when they had completed their education.

The Jewish Social Club in Ghuznee Street was the centre of most activity. Rebuilt in the 1950’s, it had a Kosher restaurant, a card room, library, snooker tables and table tennis tables. The Club supported a debating team, and a theatre group, and the Club’s table tennis teams did very well in the local championships. Cricket and Soccer games against other teams were also arranged. Most Sundays there was something on there for the youth, and often on a Saturday night there would be a dance. The Club was also the home to the biggest poker school in Wellington and many hundreds of pounds and even a few businesses changed hands over a game of cards! Each year there was a Jewish picnic held at Trentham racecourse on a Sunday. This was always well attended.

A lot of Jewish people were involved in retail, particularly ladies’ fashion, and at that time the main fashion retail street was Manners Street, which was often referred to as ‘Little Jerusalem’. Well known Jewish names that had stores there were Kaplan, Goodman, Slucki, Eidem, Hayvice, Gold, Fine, Schneideman, Cohen. In those days if a lady wanted a new dress or fur she would head straight for Manners Street.

In 1952 I started secondary school at Wellington College, a highly regarded, traditional and old state school for boys. I was tall for my age, and at primary school this had assisted me in excelling at all sports. Academically I was average. At Wellington College because of my size I was competing, in many instances, against boys older than me. As my peers grew, I stopped growing and was soon overtaken by them in both size and speed. Consequently although I loved all sport I was no more than average in my endeavours.

School, at that time was very traditional with the traditional core subjects; masters in gowns; strict discipline and heavy punishments of strap and cane. At times I felt a slight tingling of anti-Semitism from some of the teachers, especially one who had given my uncle English lessons when he had arrived in New Zealand, and constantly reminded me of my roots and teased me about it. Amongst the boys I felt quite comfortable and made good friends. There were a few Jewish boys at the school, and we all fitted in well.

When I was 15 my father was back in hospital. I visited him in the morning, and he was in bad shape. He had a lot of pain, found breathing difficult, and was swearing a lot in Polish. He was heavily sedated, and I don’t know that he knew I was there. I played rugby that afternoon, and was then called to the hospital. My father had died. He was 58, and had survived, albeit as an invalid for 10 years. His heart specialist, Dr Bridge, said he had survived the longest of all his patients. Today a by-pass would have ensured a long, healthy life for him, but that technology was not yet available in 1953.

By then I had become a lot more responsible, and had also discovered girls. I started going to dances and taking girls to movies. It was a relatively innocent life compared to today. Mother and I were left on our own, and mother had a business to run. I helped her as much as I was able, and we discussed business decisions she had to make. During my holidays I always worked in the business, and became quite familiar with it.

Klemens and Marysia Baruch, Essie and Asher Wiener, Mrs Rothschild at Asher’s wedding, 1947

Peter with his mother at his 21st birthday party

Leaving home

When I was 18 I finished school. It was 1956 and I went straight into the army (CMT- Compulsory Military Service) in the Christmas intake, which was specifically for those of us going on to University. I was placed as a signaller in the Artillery. At the time I thought CMT was a waste of time.

We used antiquated WW2 weapons, our NCO’s (Instructors) were all ex English army, and most of them were drunks, who had found a cheap way to get out of Britain. We spent three months playing soldiers, and then we were supposed to attend several week-end camps and an annual two week camp for the next three years. I was selected for officer training but at the interview I told them how I thought I was wasting my time, and the offer was withdrawn. I only attended one annual camp which was a farce, and a good time for the part-time officers, who relished their time away from home and their regular jobs, ordering us around and acting very superior. CMT was then abolished, and I was able to hand back my uniform. In hindsight my three months in the army did do me good, and was an ideal conduit between school and the outside world.

While I was in the army, my mother married Manek Gutgeld and they changed the surname to Goodgeld. I was not happy with her choice, but happy that she had someone who cared, and joined her in the business. I came back home, joined the accounting firm of Barnett & Barnett and attended University at nights. My good friend, David Zukerman, had also joined the same firm. Time at home was turmoil. I hated coming home, as there were lots of arguments and all the talk revolved around business. I spent little time at home except to study, mow the lawns and clean the car. I stayed often with some university friends in their flats or at my girlfriend’s.

When I was 21 I’d had enough and went to Europe for the next 12 months travelling throughout the continent with two friends, Bill Kitching, a university friend, and Ron Waxman, a mad Jewish Aussie from Adelaide, in an old Volkswagen, then flatting and working in London. This really opened my eyes to the big world and the possibilities. We had some interesting experiences and here are a couple:

In West Berlin we were befriended by a German lady who put us up in her shed on her allotment. She took a shine to Bill and took him home while Ron and I made the best of it in the shed, with no water or electricity. She then asked us to take some parcels to East Berlin for her. This was before the Berlin Wall and it was relatively easy to make the crossing, even though everything was carefully scrutinized by the East German Police at the check points. We were innocents abroad and agreed as we wanted to see East Berlin, and with the exchange rate everything there, especially restaurant meals was very cheap. We went through without any problems and delivered the parcels. On reflection if we had been caught we would have been thrown in jail for smuggling. To this day I don’t know what the parcels contained.

A better experience was in Savona, Italy, on the Mediterranean Coast. We arrived there late at night, and parked by the beach to sleep. We were awakened by a policeman who said we could not sleep there, found us some cheap accommodation, and next day arrived and invited us to his home for a typical Italian Sunday lunch with all his extended family. This was an experience to cherish.

On another occasion we crossed the border from Switzerland to Germany at night and found a nice field to lay out our sleeping bags in. It was a very warm evening. In the morning we were awakened by lots of chatter and children’s smiling faces. We were in the middle of a school play-ground!

On our sea trip from England to Copenhagen we met a Danish girl who invited us to her home, and to a student party. Because we were guests everybody spoke English all night. We finished up with a group of Danish boys in the kitchen exchanging rude stories and drinking beer, What an eye- opener for us innocents abroad.

We parted company in London. I took a bedsit in Earls Court with a Canadian we had met in Spain, and took a job for 6 months. Ron returned to the family department store in Adelaide, and Bill went to Canada where he caught up with his New Zealand girlfriend, married her and took a job. They soon had a son, but Bill was diagnosed with Leukemia, and they bought a yacht and sailed it back to New Zealand. Bill died in Auckland soon after. I gave the eulogy at the very sad funeral.

On my way home, (I still had one unit, that I had failed, to complete my Accounting qualification), I spent several weeks in Israel and fell in love with this exciting country, and the beautiful, confident girls there. I wanted to return and settle there, but as things turned out it wasn’t to be.

I returned to Wellington and the house in Karori. The arguments still raged. I completed my studies and obtained a job with Fletcher Construction, (New Zealand’s major building company), as Assistant Accountant.

Then my mother took ill with her second bout of cancer, and had her second breast removed. I left Fletcher’s and joined her and Manek at Siltex. I married Moreen and two weeks before Simone was born, mother passed away. I basically took charge of the business then, as Manek’s negativity and attitude did no good.

Jean Llewellyn, our designer, wanted to buy into the business, but Manek blocked her, and she left. She had been with my mother for over 20 years, and mother had appointed her a Director. Now we had a Fashion business with no designer. We advertised and I was able to get Bob Miller from Auckland. He was a great person and very experienced and technically knowledgeable. He and I made a great team. We travelled to Europe fabric buying together and designed the ranges together. The business continued to grow. Manek restricted himself to the dispatch room and book work. I opened two new factories and built a new factory for us. I sold the old houses and flats I had inherited and replaced them with commercial buildings.

I also became heavily involved in NZ JC; Politics; Council; and later, Rotary.

Then the crunch came. It was the late 70’s. Bob took ill and returned to Auckland. I appointed his assistant as designer but it wasn’t the same. Soon she also left, and there was a major downturn in the economy, and the fashion industry. I bought Manek out, and brought in Danny Mintz from the corporate sector, as my partner, with the idea of reducing our fashion exposure and bringing in other products. We introduced eel-skin bags and wallets, cane furniture, took over a credit reporting agency and opened a food business, as well as buying some blocks of flats, but none of it really worked, and we broke our partnership, wound up the company and went our own ways, though we remained good friends.

Owning several properties, and with nothing to do and a family to support, I started selling Commercial Real Estate, and did quite well at it. I also increased my property portfolio. I met John Hodge and we formed a partnership to syndicate Australian commercial properties amongst New Zealand buyers. We were the first to do this, and it was very successful.

I made one fatal mistake. I was talked into an offshore loan by my Bank. This proved disastrous as the New Zealand dollar dropped and the amount I owed tripled. I had to sell all my properties. My second wife, Mary, and I were having difficulties compounded by the loss of two children, which affected us both greatly. I sold my partnership share to John, and we moved to the Gold Coast. It was 1990.

Australia - A New Beginning

I had always felt I wanted to live in Australia. I still had a little money and the time was right. Having done business in Sydney and Melbourne, I wanted something a bit quieter. We had a house in Noosa so we tried living there but it was too small and too restrictive. We visited the Gold Coast, it was growing rapidly, and there were cranes everywhere, with new high-rise apartment buildings being constructed. Michael was 5 years old, so it was a good time to make the move, so he could start school on the Gold Coast. I had to do something and after searching for a sound business I bought Upton’s Camping and Disposals which was very well established in both wholesale and retail. I appointed a new friend and his wife as managers, and intended to attend to the bookwork and buying.

Unfortunately this didn’t work and I had to ask them to leave, and took over the management myself. At this time Mary and I decided to divorce, and my finances took a big hit. I then met a young fellow, Tim Roddan, a New Zealander, who had just returned from Europe. I took him on as a salesperson, and within a few months he was running the business. I then started two additional stores and had four in total. Tim stayed with me for five years, and then moved on to other things. I appointed one of my store managers as General Manager. We decided we had to computerize, and this proved to be a mammoth task. I married for a third time, to Georgina, and we had Joshua. This marriage didn’t last and took another hit on my finances. By then we were facing another major worldwide financial downturn, and with more competition opening up on the Gold Coast and Brisbane I sold up.

With nothing to do, and bills to pay, I started as a Business Broker, which provided me with a good income.

Today, now in my 84th year, I can honestly say “It has been a life worth lived”. I am blessed with 5 wonderful children, 6 beautiful grand-children, good health, good friends and an inner peace that money cannot buy. I live in the best place on earth and I am happy. THANK YOU MR SUGIHARA.

Many years ago a friend said to me “Life is not a dress rehearsal”. When you think about it, how true this statement is. We are only on this earth for a short time and we can never predict when our time will come to an end, or under what circumstances. I often repeat this statement to myself. I find it particularly comforting and empowering when I am about to do something that may be risky or impetuous. It inspires me to go ahead and just do it. As a result I have never regretted anything I have ever done.

At James’ wedding: Simone, James, Chanelle, Me and Moreen

The extended family at Peter’s 70th birthday in 2008

Peter with grandchildren Isaac and Ariela, 2014

I have been blessed with a long life - much longer than my poor parents who both died in their prime. I know I am here for a reason, and it is important for me to preserve my parents’ memory. I would like to think that they would be proud of me.

I have tried to cram all my ambitions and dreams into this long, yet short, life. I can truly say that my bucket list is complete, or is it? I have seen most of the world’s treasures from the magnificent Taj Mahal to the Temples and Pyramids of the Nile, to the magic of Machu Picchu. I have walked the 7 stations of Christ, prayed at the Western Wall, attended a Mass at the Vatican and experienced the sun rising from the top of Mount Masada. I have gazed upon some of the world’s great art in some of the world’s great galleries. I’ve listened to operas and concerts in some of the world’s great opera houses, and I’ve enjoyed some of the world’s best shows and artists on Broadway, The West End, Paris and Las Vegas. I’ve travelled on the Orient Express from London to romantic Venice. I’ve flown in Concord from New York to London and Hot Air Ballooned in Europe. I’ve flown a plane solo, ridden horses and dived at the Great Barrier Reef.

But last year I realized that there was one more thing to do to complete my bucket list. I suddenly experienced a strong desire to return to Japan. I cannot explain the sensation but there was something pulling me there.

In 1995 I had revisited Poland. My eldest son, James, was working there at the time, and my youngest daughter, Chanelle, who was travelling in Europe joined us there. Together the three of us rediscovered the country of my birth and my children’s heritage. Now it was time for me to rediscover Japan. But where and how to begin?

I called on my old friend ‘Mr Google’ and found several references to Sugihara and the refugees. An organization in America was dedicated to preserving the history of this period, and so I emailed them. A couple of months went by with no reply, and in the meantime I had booked my ticket to Tokyo. Then I received an email from Daniel Grinberg, the grandson of a survivor, now living in Sydney. He had been contacted from America, and he put me in touch with Sugihara’s youngest and only surviving son, Nobuki Sugihara. Nobuki now lives in Belgium with his family.

Then things started moving. Nobuki contacted me and we exchanged emails. He offered to assist with my trip, and was genuinely pleased that I was making this journey. He arranged for me to be met in Tokyo by Professor Yakov Zinberg , an Israeli and a professor of Japanese studies at a Tokyo University. He has been in Tokyo since 1985 and is married to a Japanese lady. Nobuki said I should visit Tsuruga. I had never heard of it. My parents never spoke of our time in Japan. This was to become a highlight of my trip. In Tsuruga my contacts were Mr Furue, Director of the Port of Humanity Research Institute, and Akinori (Aki) Nishikawa, Public Relations Officer for Tsuruga City Council. He came to meet me in Tokyo (a 3hr train trip), and they both accompanied me to Kobe where my host was Professor Iwata, a Kobe historian.

Conclusion

Suddenly I had become a celebrity in Japan. I was interviewed and photographed in newspapers in every city, I was officially welcomed by the Mayor of Tsuruga who hosted a memorable dinner in my honour. I was welcomed officially by the Deputy Mayor of Kobe. I was presented with gifts. In each city I gave a press conference and was featured on TV, and a TV crew followed me everywhere for a documentary on my visit.

But why all the fuss? It seems that not many Sugihara survivors have returned to Japan, except possibly as tourists, and most now have died. The Sugihara memory is now largely maintained by children and grand-children of the original refugees. It is estimated the wider families of the 6000 odd original refugees now number some 100,000 descendants. So as an original refugee I was somewhat unique. But there is also a broader interest by the Japanese in Sugihara survivors. Most of the original records were destroyed in Allied bombing in 1945 or the devastating Kobe earthquake of 1995. As a result historians and the authorities are trying to obtain as many documents, stories and testimonials from survivors as they can get, as they consider this to be an important part of their history.

There is another underlying interest in the Sugihara story. The Japanese Government have, at present, an application before UNESCO to be accorded the status of a Humanitarian Nation. This is very important to Japan. Japan is desperate to discard and obliterate the memories of the atrocities committed by their army in China in the 1930’s, and in WW2. Young Japanese today know little of their military past. They are taught respect, honesty, harmony, hard work and peace.

I personally experienced a measure of their kindness, respect and humanity throughout my visit. This is best illustrated by a visit I made to a market in Tsuruga. I thought I would buy a memory of my visit and selected a small statuette. When the stall-holder was told who I was he refused to accept any money. Through my interpreter he said “ You are an honoured guest in Tsuruga. You will not pay. It is a gift from Tsuruga. Thank you for your visit”. That acknowledgement of my visit by a simple citizen of Tsuruga was typical of the welcome and respect I received throughout Japan.

I personally do not believe that today’s and tomorrow’s generations can be blamed for the mistakes and the atrocities of past generations, now long gone, and I wish Japan every success in their application before UNESCO. Japan, today, is a nation of peace and harmony. May it always be so and an example to the rest of the world. May we all learn from the past and live in peace and harmony in the future.

For me Chiune Sugihara was a beacon of humanity in a violent and troubled world. He did not have to do what he did to save thousands of Jews. He was compelled to do it through his humanity and his love and respect for his fellow man. He did not seek recognition or reward. His memory and his deeds went unnoticed for many years. Today we honour his memory, and we have a duty to ensure that his story is not forgotten.

Notes:

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 multiple family members. It is estimated that 100,000 people, the descendants of those original survivors, owe their lives to Sugihara San.

At the end of WW2, the Baruch family found Wicek, his wife Lala, and their son Stephen in Palestine, and brought them to make a new home in New Zealand. They were all that had survived. The rest of the Baruch family had all perished in the Holocaust.

After the war the Baruch family tried to get compensation from the Polish government for the confiscated property – homes, businesses, country estate, but all requests and lawyer’s letters were ignored. The country estate, Baruchovka, reverted to the local council and has been turned into a housing estate.

The Gaynor family that Sugihara befriended all perished in the Holocaust except for the young boy, Solly Gaynor, who survived after several years in Auschwitz.

Peter Baruch is now 83 and lives in Australia. He has 5 children and 6 grandchildren.

Bertie Frankel now lives in Israel with his wife Nira. He left New Zealand in February 1961, spent a few years in London before making aliya to Israel in 1969. Bertie and Nira have two sons and six grandchildren. They all live close to each other in Kfar Saba and Raanana, two small cities to the North East of Tel Aviv.

Bertchik Schor was the younger brother of Bertie Frankel’s mother Perla. He was 16 when we arrived in Wellington. He went to Wellington Tech and then Canterbury University where he graduated as an Engineer specializing in Air-Conditioning. Today he lives in Israel and is well into his 90’s.

Peter, Bertie and Bertchik are often interviewed as ‘Sugihara Survivors’.

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 Barusch went on to address the Queensland Parliament and met with the politicians and members of the Diplomatic Corps. His talks to schools and adult groups are in demand, and this continues to keep him busy.

Peter Baruch: My Story Part Two: East to Freedom