Testimonies

Bob MacKenzie Facebook Interview

April 30, 2020 by jba9

On Sunday 26th April, Holocaust survivor Bob MacKenzie participated in a live phonecall interview on Facebook Live with Laura Pasternak, a Holocaust Educational Trust Regional Ambassador for Scotland. You can watch the interesting videos in two parts on www.facebook.com/hetrascotland.

Laura Pasternak talking to Bob Mackenzie over Facebook Live

As a Kindertransportee to the UK in 1939 aged 8, Bob, originally from Chemnitz, Germany was really keen for more people to learn about the Kindertransport while in lockdown.

Bob told of his Jewish father and Lutheran mother’s unimaginable decision to send him to the UK for safety before the war broke out, his arrival at the priory in Selkirk and welcome from the MacKenzie family who took him in with his older sister Isolde.

Bob emphasised the need to remember the generosity of families across Britain who sponsered and looked after refugee children like him. He ultimately showed his gratitude to his foster father by taking the family name (as they had only daughters) when he took British nationality in 1950.

Bob is used to volunteering and socialising, so lockdown presented an opportunity to be creative with technology and spread the work about Kindertransport to people stuck at home.

Sunday’s stream reached 671 people, had 348 views and 199 ‘engagements’ (comments, questions, ‘likes’ shares etc.)!

Laura wants to thank Gathering the Voices for having interviewed Bob back in 2014.

Bob’s testimony helped Laura steer the interview, and she showed the photos on the website on-screen during the call!

The Memory of Belsen

This article was written by John J. Crosbie (known as Jack) in March 1964. Jack was born in Girvan in 1915 and after the war he lived in Giffnock with his wife and two sons until his death in 1995.

During the war, Jack was a Lieutenant in the Royal Artillery and was haunted by his experience of helping to liberate Belsen Concentration Camp in March 1945. It took him 19 years to be able to express some of his pain in committing his thoughts to paper. The pain of these memories remained with him every day until his death until 1995. His experiences are a testimony to future generations.

I suppose that the memory of Belsen Concentration Camp is something that will be with me until the end of my days. It was one of these experiences in life which hit so hard that the scar will forever remain. And yet, come to think of it, nineteen years have gone by since I turned the nose of the Jeep into the Camp Entrance and drove into a scene of such horror and confusion that battle-scarred veterans were sick on the spot and men stood, weeping openly, unable to believe the sight before their eyes. In Western Germany today the public are divided in their attitude toward the trials of those who committed atrocities against the Jews during Hitler’s Rule. The younger ones feel that it happened such a long time ago and it ought to be forgotten…..older Germans rightly aver that those who responsible should be brought to Justice.

In March 1945 we had been among the first to cross the Rhine at Wesel and then we seemed to sit and watch the rest of the British Second Army leapfrog over us deep into the heart of Germany. The advance was swift and as each day passed a fresh list of towns was added to the lengthening number of Allied victories. Our Commanding Officer, a burly Yorkshireman, was not at all happy with the situation, and hurried each morning to Brigade Headquarters demanding another commitment for the Regiment. He was determined that we should not be left behind and he was not to be disappointed. On 12th April 1945, the German Military Commander at Bergen-Belsen, who was Chief of Staff 1st Para Army, approached the Commander of the British 8th Corps and negotiated a truce to avoid serious fighting in the area of Belsen Concentration Camp, which was at the time some 12 miles behind the German front line. The camp was in a state of chaos. Between 45,000 and 50,000 Jewish internees were imprisoned there, a great many of them suffering from Typhus, Typhoid, Gastro-enteritis, or Tuberculosis. They were without food and the electricity and water supply had failed. Such then was the position when, after covering 250 miles in under 24 hours the main column entered that dreadful place on 18th April 1945.

The scene which confronted us on that day can never be forgotten. Some 10,000 bodies, nearly all of them naked and many in an advanced state of decomposition, lay on the ground between the huts, forming an almost continuous carpet. The FILTH of human excreta and decomposing flesh was everywhere.
The stench was indescribable. Living conditions were by any standards absolutely disgraceful. There were no sanitary arrangements of any kind and huts, which normally accommodated 60, were housing as many as 500/600. Those poor miserable internees had long since lost all self-respect and any sense of moral code and were living like animals. Clothing was torn from a body as soon as the struggle to stay alive had ended. It was not uncommon for someone to shamble up to you and in the middle of speaking drop dead at your feet. Those who were fit enough searched the camp area continuously looking for herbs and traces of food which they heated in a can over a fire made from a few twigs. Hundreds of these fires could be seen all over camp, each with a wisp of smoke towering up to the sky and each with a group of inmates, crouching around it in a hopeless endeavour to keep warm. These people had gone without food for 7 days…before that they has been existing on a starvation diet of some soup and a few grams of black bread. It was little wonder that most of them required hospital treatment. This then was Belsen….it was a one-way ticket to death through starvation.

The task ahead of the British Forces was formidable. The dead had to be buried (and they were dying at the rate of 400/500 per day), those who were in need of hospital treatment had to be evacuated quickly from the area, food and water had to be organised and a Bengal diet distributed to the famished thousands whose lives depended on quick action. Each of the 5 cookhouses was equipped with a number of large boilers, the only containers available for the distribution of food being a few large dustbins.

Belsen was officially known as the Krankenlager…… that is a sick camp. The unfortunate human beings who were sent there in train loads never came back. They faced a death through disease, starvation and sheer physical degradation. There was no gas chamber, but many internees where subjected to sterilisation and medical experiment. Prisoners were beaten and flogged at the slightest provocation. Roll-call each day was at 0300 hours and those who were sick or dying had to be carried out to the parade ground by their friends. The daily diet consisted of 3 pints of Swede soup and 250 grams of black bread. During the months preceding liberation, there were many cases of cannibalism and these were vouched for by many witnesses. None of the British soldiers who were there will ever forget the pile of boots and shoes which stood not far from the entrance to the camp. It was 12 feet high, 40 feet long and 20 feet broad, and it must have contained thousands upon thousands of pairs of shoes. It stood there as a memorial to the many thousands who had gone before.

The task of burying the dead was given to the S.S Prison Guards. Under the supervision of the Royal Artillery they loaded the corpses on to large German trailers which were towed by gun tractors to the death pits to await mass burial. These S.S Guards were the toughest thugs one could meet. They had ruled with the aid of the whip and the gun, and now that the tables were turned (for they had been ‘sold out’ to the British by the Wehrmacht), they knew full well the fate that awaited them. Yet never once, even although we worked them until they dropped, did I see one shed a tear or show one single sign of emotion. Had they not been guarded day and night they would have been torn limb from limb by the internees. That is all except one – an S.S doctor who walked through the camp in uniform receiving from each of the inmates a bow or curtsy of respect.

I remember well some of the special regulations that had to be applied to meet situation. It was forbidden to blow the horn of a vehicle, otherwise some unfortunates would drop dead through fright. A soldier dare not throw away an empty can lest some starving internees should fight to the death over the last few drops of bean juice which remained at the foot of it. Ration trucks and water carts had to be guarded by a soldier with a rifle sitting on top, otherwise they would not have reached their destination.

Each Royal Artillery Officer was put in charge of a cookhouse and one day I was approached by one of the internees who volunteered to supervise the issue of rations from the cookhouse store and so (to use his own words) “take some of the weight off my shoulders”. He was one of the fitter specimens and had only been in the camp for two or three weeks. I asked him about his qualifications and how he came to speak such perfect English. Quite modestly he told me that he had been Professor of Mathematics at Vienna University before being picked up by the S.S. His wife and children had been judged unfit to work and had gone to the gas chambers at infamous Auschwitz. After he had worked for a few months in a factory he too fell ill, and was then sent to Belsen.

I remember how the Camp Commandant, who was reputed to have in his house a lampshade made of human skin, was locked up for safe keeping in the large refrigerator of a nearby Tank training school. Along came the Royal Engineers to repair the electrical supply and by the time anyone had remembered about the Camp Commandant he was very cold indeed. However, he still lived to face the executioner a few months later. We welcomed the arrival of the 100 students from the London Hospitals whose job it was to see that the very sick got something to eat……….what a wonderful job they did. We ordered the Burgomeisters of the nearby villages to come and see the horrors with their own eyes. They wept, protesting that they were ignorant of what had gone on behind the barbed wire of Belsen. I think they were quite truthful, for anyone who ever escaped never dared to mention the fact even to his closest friend, otherwise he was back in captivity again in a very short time. The Concentration Camp number tattooed on his wrist could never be removed. The S.S women were also made to take their share of burial duties. They were so tough that they spat in our faces without the slightest provocation. I remember the attractive face of Irma Grese …….a face which gave little indication of the vile character which lay beneath. She, too, was later convicted of atrocities against the Jews and had to face the executioner.

In the next six weeks, the Military Government arranged the disinfestation of all prisoners through a human laundry system and then evacuated every sick person from the Concentration Camp Area. Many thousands, after being re-clothed and re-equipped were repatriated to their own countries. Eventually, the Royal Artillery burned down the last hut, and only the mass graves remained to mark the area in among those beautiful pine trees where death had been so commonplace. I shall always remember the sign which we erected on the main road at the entrance to the camp. It said….. “This is the site of the infamous Belsen Concentration Camp, liberated by the British on 15th April 1945. 10,000 unburied dead were found here…another 13,000 have since died…all of them victims of the German New Order in Europe, and an example of Nazi Kultur”.
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Approx. 1500 words
March 1964

Henry Wuga – June 1940 The Fun And Normal Life Come To An Abrupt End

The refugee committee informed me that I need to go to the high court in Edinburgh. A lawyer from the committee accompanied me to the high court but he was not allowed into the hearing. At the High court in Edinburgh I was convicted of “Corresponding with the Enemy” a very serious offence during wartime. My letters to my parents were sent to my uncle Salo Würzburger in Brussels which in 1940 was a neutral country. Uncle Salo then forwarded the letters on to Germany. The answer came back by the same route and the letters were intercepted by the censor.

The Judge, Sir John Strachan made me A Dangerous Enemy Alien Category A. I was arrested, I was just 16y (a juvenile). I was shocked but not frightened.

Two Detectives escorted me to Waverly Station, put me in a locked compartment on the Glasgow train, all alone. Collected at Queen’s Street Glasgow by 2 policemen and taken home to Hurwichs. Allowed 1 phone call and packed the minimum of clothing in a holdall. Next stop Police Headquarters. The Sargent said: “Cannie tak the Laddie. He’s under 17, not allowed in a cell”. A civilised country! A stressful day but I was well treated by the policemen. They panicked, what to do with this Dangerous ‘Cat. A’ boy?

A Remand Home for Juvenile offenders, was the answer. Boys of 13/15y waiting to go to court the next day for stealing and other offences. I was greeted by these boys: “What did ye dae?” As I “didnae dae onythin” I lost their esteem. My cigarettes were deposited in the Governor’s office. He was kind and meant well, giving me permission to smoke in his office. I knew better. I would have been ridiculed. A most stressful day. Did I sleep well for the two nights I was there? I can’t remember!

I was transferred to Maryhill Barrack’s, a large military base in Glasgow now a prisoner of war camp. Rudolf Hess was held there after his “peace” flight.

Shared a Cement Air raid Shelter with 21 captured German Merchant Sailors. Here I was once again in a hostile environment. Jewish, German and Category A. There were anti-Semitic remarks, however some senior ranking officers protected me. A stressful time, as prisoners we were confined with nothing to relieve the feeling of imprisonment.

Two weeks later the journey continued by bus to Donaldson school in Edinburgh, a large former Deaf School at Corstorphine, now an internment camp. I was once again with the same German sailors, fortunately I did not have to share their dormitory.

The war was going badly after the Dunkirk evacuation. Prime Minister Winston Churchill

Banged the Cabinet Table “Collar the Lot” was the phrase he used. The internment of enemy aliens, German and Italian, even the “friendly Continental Jewish refugees” began. Churchill was driven to that by the relentless virulent anti foreigner’s campaign by the tabloid press, The Mail, Express & Sun. “Expel the foreigners, lock them up etc.”

An unnecessary decision, we came here to flee from the Nazis and to help defeat them.

At Donaldson’s the commandant asked “Is there anyone here who can cook?” I put my hand up, “yes, I can cook!”. My apprenticeship in Baden Baden in 1938 made me confident.

Thinking back, the temerity of youth made me volunteer. “Within 72 hours 170 internees will arrive, you need to prepare meals” The army provided the rations and I found myself

in charge of the kitchen with a staff of 12 German sailors in this large institutional kitchen,

and we cooked. One sailor called me “ein dreckiger Jude” a dirty Jew. Another knocked him out. British Corporal was assigned to keep things normal. We worked hard for 10 days.

General Internment had been ordered and amongst the arrivals of the men was my cousin Gustav Würzburger and my future father in law Ascher Wolff.

It is now July and while at Donaldson’s we fortunately missed being sent to Canada on the SS Arandora Star, which was tragically torpedoed off Ireland with the loss of hundreds of lives of Internees.

Time to move on again by train to York Racecourse. Corporal produced a list of rations for the train: Oatmeal potatoes, beans etc. I pointed out that we will not have any cooking facilities,

“We need bread and corned beef.” I was not afraid to speak up again, I spoke the truth.

We were quartered below the stands of the race course. Very basic cold and damp. Now separated from the German sailors, just mostly German Jewish Refugees. Only a few days there. I remember lectures on hygiene, no doubt they had concerns about homosexuality. A boring time, constant roll calls to check the number of prisoners.

The minute you became familiar with the new camp and fellow internees, it was time to move on.

Now August and on to camp No 5. Warth Mills near Bury Lancashire, on old cotton mill. It turned out to be the most horrendous experience of all the camps. 2000 men crammed into the filthy oily floors of this disused mill. On arrival we were strip searched, I remember joining the long queue to be searched. I lost most of my personal belongings, fountain pen, pocket knife, wrist watch, never to be seen again. A fairly rough going over by the soldiers.

It was intimidating and frightening we were just the German Enemy!

Given a hessian sack to fill with straw. That was your bed, now find a place on the floor to sleep. Overcrowding sparked a tense situation that led to sickness. Injuries from falling overhead transmissions, a dangerous time. Basic toilet facilities consisted of 60 buckets in a yard and 18 water taps for 2000 men. At night crossing the yard the guards would shout:

“Halt or I Shoot”. I recall one man so upset that he pulled open his shirt and said “SHOOT”

Someone described it as “Hell on Earth” You can imagine the in adequacy of the food.

The eating area was called Starvation Hall. There were many Doctors amongst the Internees, they were afraid of an epidemic occurring in these dangerous conditions.

On a lighter note, unbelievably the only item that was plentiful was Carnation Milk in tins for your porridge, so sweet and sickly, that I have not touched it since.

It was a very hard 2 weeks at Warth Mills, tense and dangerous, Soldiers with guns and bayonets. The officers and men were eventually court martialled for the unnecessarily brutal treatment of the Internees. It is a sad reflection on the Government’s panicky handling of the Internment of Aliens. They knew who we were and why we sought asylum in the UK. to escape the Nazi persecution of Jews.

Time to move again to Hyton Liverpool on our way to the Isle of Man. How do you create a camp quickly? Hyton was an unfinished housing scheme, simply enclose with barbed wire and hey Presto you have a camp. We only stayed 2 days. At Liverpool we embarked for the IoM where many camps were ready. Simply whole sections of Hotels and Boarding houses surrounded by barbed wire, in Douglas ,Ramsay, Peel and Port Erin (women).

A smooth 3hour crossing of the Irish Sea. Our destination was Peveril Camp Peel on the West Coast of the island.

Walked from the harbour to the railway station, a narrow gage small train took us to Peel, about 80 internees. Peveril Camp consisted of the last 8 hotels at the end of the promenade, overlooking PEEL BAY and Castle. This looked very promising,

Reasonable accommodation, double rooms. House No 6, 12 rooms on 3 storeys.

24 Internees age groups 25 to 60 plus. Mostly German Jewish refugees and some political German detainees. I was the only CHILD aged 16 detained by MI5 !!

Knowing we were here for the long term, you settled down and made friends. Food was reasonable, no shortages.

Business people, teachers’ doctors galore, University professors and also “ordinary” Jewish refugees, all missing their dear ones let in the UK. It did not take long to establish discussion groups, theatre and music debating groups. We all had time on our hands. Interrupted careers, no income, one letter a week, everybody had family torn apart.

For me it was a great learning experience like a look into adult life and a whole new education. No Newspapers allowed, we followed the course of the war by radio when permitted. The authorities began to understand we were not “Enemy Aliens” but a well educated

Refugees from the Nazis and are anxious to help the war effort towards victory. We organised the postal system, we hated the disruption of the constant ROLL Calls and found a better system which the camp commander accepted. We refused to go for walks or swimming accompanied by soldiers with guns and bayonets, they began to understand, we were not going to escape, Things settled down to mutual cooperation.

Professor Hans Gal, who had lived Edinburgh, published his daily diaries in German and English, from a camp in Douglas, a really special insight, worth reading.

To combat illness, we were divided into groups by our doctors, to test different foods or medicines. It WORKED.

Many men played Chess, but with their backs to the chess board, given 10 seconds to call out the next move. Quite a challenge !! Many musical instruments arrived from their homes in UK and Music and Theatre flourished . Cabarets, Shows also for the Officers. We were taken to Douglas to see the Charlie Chaplin Film : The Great Dictator, making fun of Hitler. Life went on. Several people were released for hardship or medical reasons. We all hoped to get home soon.

We were allowed a weekly letter. My letter was used to complain to the authorities. It was sent to the liberal Manchester Guardian and Eleanor Rathbone MP(known as MP for the refugees). We argued that we should be released to help with the war effort and defeat the Nazis. This exposure got our comments mentioned at Prime Ministers Question Time. In spite of being behind barbed wire it gave us a feeling of living in democratic country.

I was called to several Tribunals to be reassessed. Did I really correspond with the enemy?

I got a new roommate, a German officer a Metallurgist working at the British Aluminium Co.

in Fort William. He turned out to be an MI5 Agent. He spoke Perfect German and Oxford English. He gave lectures in metallurgy, to fool us of his identity.

He tried to get me drunk and searched for information, which I did not have or know.

An unpleasant episode. But his report must have convinced them that I was CLEAN.

Which eventually led to my release. In 2008 I received a document through Freedom of Information from MOD that they did think I was a spy.

Many more boring months went by. Met many interesting people and made good friends. A Yorkshire man who had no German connections wondered why he was interned. It turned out his grandfather was German and had never become British. Poor man found it difficult to take. However, he taught me about Tabaco. Gather certain leaves, cure them with Salpeter, put them in a sardine tin place under 1 leg of your bed and the pressure will make solid Tabaco. You learned a lot about making do.

I was transferred to Ramsay Camp for just 2 days to be released. The commandant told me: “I cannot keep you a day longer as you are under the age for internment” which was 18.

Such is the bureaucracy of wartime. The journey home was frightening. All ALONE after being in a friendly community for 10 long months. Had vouchers for Boat and Train, But which Boat? Where to find train to Glasgow in Liverpool station? Remember it is wartime, who do I ask?

A warm welcome from Mrs. Hurwich. I have come HOME.

What Now? I found a job as apprentice Chef at the Corn Exchange restaurant.

Found the Refugee Club with lots of young people, “The House on the Hill in Sauchiehall Street “Where I met Ingrid. As they say “The Rest Is History”.

Henry Wuga – Personal Diary

My first 23 months in the United Kingdom May 1939 to April 1941

An incredible experience for a German Jewish Refugee Boy aged 15 to 17 years

May 1939

Arrived by Kindertransport train at Liverpool Street Station London

Next day by Royal Scott train from Euston to Glasgow

Welcomed by Mrs. E. Hurwich, my Guarantor

June 1939

At Queen’s Park School, Summer Holiday in Kirkcudbright with Sassoon Family

September outbreak of War

Evacuated with school to Perthshire

March 1940

Back in Glasgow at Mrs Hurwich

June 1940

At High Court in Edinburgh found guilty of “Corresponding with the Enemy” Arrested as Dangerous Enemy Alien Category A

Interned in 7 different Internment Camps finally on the Isle of Man

April 1941

Released as “Friendly Enemy Alien due to Religious Persecution Category C” Nothing untoward found by MI 5.

Returned to Glasgow to my Guarantor Mrs. E. Hurwich

Now 17 years old

From the time of leaving Nürnberg by Kindertransport train on the 2^nd May 1939 to arriving

in Glasgow on the 5^th May, 3 traumatic days have elapsed.

With tearful emotion you say Goodbye to your parents, will we ever see each other again?

The Train journey was horrendous. Young children 6 to 9, who had never been separated from their Mutti and Papi before, were crying, no howling is a better description.

We all had a label round our neck, name and age. Allowed one small item of luggage.

Many hours later we crossed into Holland. The Nazi guards had left and the atmosphere and the mood changed. Even the youngest child felt the difference, we were in free country.

At the first station, Dutch Ladies calmed the tension with Hot Chocolate, White Bread Sandwiches and Red Apples. An oppressive weight lifted from our shoulders. Another few hours to reach Hook and the overnight Chanel crossing to Harwich. How many of us had ever been on a Boat before? We have finally arrived in England, Hurrah!

Train to Liverpool Street Station, 170 exhausted children after a 36hour journey, awaiting

being collected by their Guarantors, Friends or people willing to take a Refugee Child.

Kind people took children, but it was a bit of a “Cattle Market” siblings were separated not to see each other till WHEN? However, we are now in a country willing to admit us and be saved from the Nazi Terror.

A night in a hostel with 2 others, destination GLASGOW. In the morning from Euston Station London to Glasgow Central, 6 hours on the famous Royal Scott an amazing journey. I had used trains a lot in Germany- all wooden seats. Comfortable soft upholstered seats on this luxurious train. Taken to the Dining Car, Lunch with Silver Service and waiters wearing white gloves, we were spellbound.

Grete Gummers, my mother’s cousin, awaited me at Platform 1 Glasgow Central and took me to my Guarantor Mrs. Etta Hurwich at 169 Queen’s Drive, a Front Door Flat in a typical Glasgow tenement. A very kind welcome by this kind and amazing Lady, herself an immigrant from Latvia in the 1890’s. Her family had grown up, son Simon still lived at home.

A comfortable home, my downstairs room, bright, comfy but OH the tightly tucked in blankets, no downies!!

How do you settle in? Sparse English to communicate, different food and meal times tea with milk, tinned pineapple, chopped fried fish. What impressions did Glasgow make? A large grey city, parks, tramcars well stocked shops and friendly people. I was immediately enrolled at Queen’s Park School to learn English. As the only foreign boy I was made welcome. Given the nickname “57” as in “Heinz Baked Beans”

Mrs. Hurwich and son Simon managed an Upholstery Factory, A maid looked after the household. I was no longer to wear shorts and I was kitted out with suits. You go along with the local customs. I felt comfortable as part of a friendly family and meeting daughter Bessie, husband Frank and granddaughter Barbara and friends.

Letters to Mum and Dad in Nürnberg flowed regularly. Having left home at 14 to work as an apprentice chef in a hotel in Baden Baden, helped me not to feel homesick.

July 1939 Summer holidays, invited by the Sassoon family, David and Vera in Kirkcudbright. I spent many weeks with sons Joey and Jackie at their basic beach house on the Solway Firth. No electricity, water from a well at LOW tide only, cooking on a Primus stove. An idyllic seaside existence. My first time on a beach, swimming, sailing and learning about tides (40 foot in the Solway Firth) recedes for over a mile and returns like an express train. Dangerous quick sands and Jellyfish stings. How lucky to have such a blissful time in Southern Scotland, beaches, games, cricket, rounders, mountains countryside Belted Galloway Cattle, Rabbits and other wildlife. An unforgettable time, completely new experiences with a family who remain lifelong friends.

The clouds darkened on my return to Glasgow. War was declared in September 1939.A sombre time, preparations for “blackout curtains, air raid sirens, police checks on Aliens, an insecure time. How can I be in touch with my parents? No mail, no telephone, all connection with Germany ceased immediately. My uncle Sallo Würzburger lived in Brussels, Belgium, still neutral. Letters to my parents went via Brussels to Nürnberg and came back by the same route. At least we were in touch.

Back at school, in October the government decided to evacuate all children from towns to the country in case of air attacks. I went by train to Perthshire, billeted at a friendly family farm at Guildtown and attended the village school by bike. The large farm was another new experience. Horses, Cattle, Barley, Potatoes (Tattie Howking) Hay making. I enjoyed helping everywhere. The only signs of War were the pilots training at a local airport.

Plentiful good farm food, pheasant, chicken, eggs, milk and cream. No shortages. I became fascinated with horses, formed a particular friendship with “Clyde” groomed and fed him but was not allowed to leave his stable if he decided not to let me out.

Some weeks later transferred to Perth Academy. They did not like my English and I went to Balhousie Boy’s School, a Junior Secondary. How fortunate was that, as the Headmaster Mr Borthwick took me under his wing and nurtured me. I had an inspiring 6 months there, was allowed to use both languages for exams. The highlight was studying Shakespeare’s Macbeth, this bloodthirsty history of a Scottish King. I was fascinated, a completely new experience. I can still recite whole passages, it had such an impact on me. ‘Double double toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble” the witches “Here’s the smell of blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand”. Tragic Lady Macbeth.

“Out out brief candle, life’s but a walking shadow”. It just enthralled me.

Decades later with daughters and grandchildren on the way to skiing in Aviemore, when passing Birnam, they had to quote Macbeth: “When Birnam wood moves on to Dunsinane”

What a demanding father!!

November 1939, transferred to Rossie House, Forgandenny a sort of boarding school.

30 Glaswegian boys and girls. A beautiful house in a large estate. A village post office for sweets and treats and of course there were GIRLS! exciting. A happy stay. We were well looked after.

I befriended the estate Game Keeper Mr. Mc Candlish. We had a Pack of Foxhounds and he taught me Fly Fishing for Salmon on the river Earn. For a boy of 16 these were thrilling new experiences. To school in Perth by Bus, Train or Bike. Stopped at an Army checkpoint to show our Identity Cards, on the lookout for spies. My card showed “Nationality German”

The young soldier panicked Alarm! Here is a German. His card proves it- just what they had been briefed to look out for. He called the Corporal who called the Sargent who sent for an Officer. “Let the Laddie go to school” he decided. End of incident.

In spite of the War not going well, we were sheltered and safe. On Sundays when the kids were at church, I was allowed to bake cakes for afternoon tea in the kitchen. Cooking and baking must be in my genes. I made several good friends at Rossie House, one was another Jewish boy Max Barlaski. Never any hint of Antisemitism or anti German feeling.

1940 a New Year dawns.

No news from my parents, just hope they are well.

February, my 16^th birthday, Perthshire becomes a Protected Area, even Friendly Enemy Aliens have to leave. Back home to Glasgow to the Hurwich Household. No possibility to return to school. Bought a bicycle for 15 shillings and explored the Clyde coastline. I love the outdoors. Misread the map and had an extra 30 miles cycling to reach home. The Hurwich family are members of Queen’s Park Synagogue where I join them for the Jewish Festivals. At weekends, Simon and a friend kindly “schlepped” me to walk round 18 holes to Barassie Golf Links followed by High Tea at Ferari’s No 10, a superb restaurant. How kind to be taken.

Glasgow middle class life style I am learning!!

Fred Weiss – His Story

FRIEDRICH (Fridyes in Hungarian) LOTHAR WEISS, better known as Fred Weiss, was born in Miskolc in Hungary on May 23^rd 1921. He lived most of his adult life in Glasgow, Scotland and epitomised the ideal of how a poor young refugee could make good by hard work and strong will.

His mother, Irma Eisner, was born on 16^th June 1883 in Brno, when it was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It later became part of Czechoslovakia, and is now part of the Czech Republic. Her parents were Joseph and Maria Eisner. It is not known when she married Hermann Weiss or moved to Hungary- country boundaries at that time were very different from the current ones. Frau Weiss was a cook by profession and in later years ran the Jewish soup kitchen in Vienna. It is believed that the rest of her family was lost in the Holocaust with the possible exception of an uncle who survived and moved to Argentina.

Friedrich’s father, Hermann, died when he was young. He had fought in the First World War in the Austro-Hungarian army, which was allied to the German side, but it is not known whether this was a factor in his early death. Friedrich’s father (as recorded on his birth certificate) was a tobacco merchant. Hence smoking may have been a contributory factory to his early death.

Friedrich was brought up by his mother, Frau Weiss. On 22^nd July 1935 she married Artur Braun and afterwards was known as Frau Braun, although it is widely believed by the family that this was an arranged marriage in order that she could remain in Vienna (Wien), to where she appears to have moved before 1927. The marriage was under the Israelitischen Kultusgemeinde (which we understand as Jewish Law and Custom). No more is known of Artur Braun and he took no further part in Friedrich’s life.

Frau Braun and Friedrich lived at Reuppgasze 32, 3/15, Wien 2, and Friedrich’s existing school reports for the years 1927/28, 1934/35, 1936/37, and 1937/38 indicate that he was good or very good in the main school subjects. They also indicate that he was a stateless child although acknowledging that he was born in Miskolc, Hungary.

As the threat to Jews under the Third Reich grew, Frau Braun was able to arrange, through one of the refugee schemes, for Friedrich to be sponsored to come to the United Kingdom. His sponsors were the Ferrar family who at that time lived at 30 Hathaway Drive, Giffnock, Glasgow.

Friedrich was issued with a German passport in Vienna as a stateless citizen on 29^th December 1938 with an expiry date one year later. He was described as a ‘Tischler’, which we take to mean ‘carpenter or joiner’. Within a month, Friedrich obtained his visa for the United Kingdom (dated 23^rd January 1939) granting him entrance to the UK within 90 days of the date stamped, and he was en route to Britain.

He travelled as one of the ‘adult’ leaders on one of the Kindertransports, first to Switzerland then to The Netherlands before crossing to the UK. His German passport was stamped by Immigration at Harwich on 31^st January 1939. It was also stamped on 3^rd March 1939 by the City of Glasgow Police Aliens Registration Department with the note that he had “leave to land granted at Harwich this day on condition that the holder will emigrate from the United Kingdom on completion of his training.” His initial address when he arrived in Glasgow was at 2 Millbrae Crescent, Queen’s Park, Glasgow.

His mother followed him, obtaining a German Reisspass on 2^nd March 1939, and a visa for the UK on 25^th April 1939, on the condition that she would not take up any employment or engage in any business, profession or occupation in the United Kingdom. There is a final German stamp on her passport, dated 1^st May 1939, which was probably at point of departure, and then a stamp of the Chief Constable of Renfrewshire indicating that she was issued with Registration Certificate No 681905 on 11^th May 1939.

This registration document indicates that Mrs. Braun, as she would be known in the UK, arrived on 1^st May 1939, and resided c/o Ferrar, 30 Hathaway Drive, Giffnock. On 29^th November that year, it is endorsed that she is a refugee from Nazi oppression and is exempt from internment. There are further endorsements on this document indicating that she moved to a number of temporary addresses:

on 5^th December 1939, to 48 Abbotsford Place (in the Gorbals)
on 25^th November 1940, to Balkind, 17 Devon Street
on 11^th July 1941, a temporary visit to Murdoch, 28 Lochbroom Drive Newton Mearns, then on 30^th August back to Devon Street[1]
on 2^nd March 1942, to Winestone, 43 Annette Street
on 17^th November 1943, to Mason, 706 Shettleston Road
on 30^th May 1945, c/o Goodman, 330 Cathcart Road, from where Friedrich would be married
on 9^th July 1947, to 4 Hazelden Gardens, Muirend, the first home of Friedrich (now Fred) and his new wife Beatrice Rose Weiss (nee Links).

The need for Mrs. Braun to report for registration lasted until 25^th January 1961, when the document is endorsed to the effect that no further registration was required under the Aliens Order 1960.

Mrs. Braun’s identity card dated 13^th October 1943 confirms the addresses of Shettleston Road, Cathcart Road and Hazelden Gardens.

Fred married Beatrice Links, daughter of Nathan and Betsy Links on 12^th June 1947 in the Tudor Ballroom, Giffnock, and they moved into Hazelden Gardens. They celebrated their honeymoon in London staying at the Cumberland Hotel near Marble Arch. A year later, on 18^th November 1948, Fred received his naturalisation papers as a British Citizen from the Home Office.

It is believed that Fred’s father-in-law, Nathan Links, was at first not too enamoured with the idea of his daughter marrying a young refugee without capital. Fred, however, won him over, and at the same time supplemented his income in the early days of his married life, by collecting money on behalf of Nathan, who was a credit-draper and money-lender. Some of the areas Fred had to cover, including parts of Govan, were quite rough and dangerous, and Fred always had a hammer from his work tool-box with him ‘just in case’ though as far as is known, he never had to use it.

Fred, who lived with his mother at the various addresses above until he was married, started work with Crestol Bedding shortly after arriving in Glasgow. Crestol was a bedding manufacturer owned and run by the Caplan family. Starting as a junior employee, he was able to learn the various stages of the production process as his colleagues were called up for the armed forces, and by the end of the war, he held the position of manager within the factory. We have notes of his salary for the years 1948 to 1951, reflecting his increasing responsibility. It was about this time that Fred was offered the opportunity to buy a 49% share in the Crestol family business – a major shareholding, but without control, which was to be be retained by the Caplan family.

Fred felt that if he was good enough to have a major shareholding, he was good enough to run the company – and if not that company he would start one himself. After a couple of years gaining more experience at another bedding company, Fred started working for himself, taking over the premises of yet another bedding company which had gone into liquidation, Hugh Haughan Ltd, situated in Eglinton Street, near the Gorbals. He obtained the initial capital required from the bank on the guarantee of one of Beatrice’s cousins, H.B.Livingston, but within a short period, he was able to pay off the advance

Initially, Fred made mattresses by day, interspersed with visits to local retailers to sell them, and delivered after 4pm in his estate car.

Eventually, he started to employ staff, starting with former colleagues from his previous employers, including John Neil (a mattress maker and driver) and Margaret Wood (a seamstress), who would work with him until they retired in the 1980s. His wife Beatrice also worked alongside him, running the office and helping in the factory. As the business developed they moved to larger premises at 121 Moffat Street, off Ballater Street, in the Gorbals. The business is still located in Moffat Street at time of writing in 2014.

They had three daughters. The eldest Myra Evelyn was born on 16^th June 1948, which was also her grandmother Irma Braun’s 65^th birthday. Their middle daughter, Eleanor Alice, was born on 19^th January 1953, and their youngest Betsy Joanne on 1^st December 1958. With Beatrice working, the children were looked after by their grandmother, Mrs. Braun, who prepared family meals. As the business developed, and more staff were employed by the factory, Beatrice was able to take more time off to look after the family, and worked only within school hours.

The business, renamed Elite Bedding Company Limited, flourished in Moffat St through Fred’s hard work and business instincts (despite his having had no formal business training). He developed good contacts in the contract furniture market supplying contract and domestic furniture to, among others, Strathclyde University as it developed new halls of residence, Glasgow City Council’s children’s homes, and a significant number of hotels, hospitals, and Bed & Breakfast establishments. Elite became the main supplier of beds to the expanding Reo Stakis Organisation’s hotels.

Fred’s prolific success and growing reputation in the industry soon led to the affectionate moniker of “Fred The Bed” amongst his friends, colleagues and customers.

In time the move into furniture lead to the opening of a wholesale and retail domestic furniture business. On reaching his fifties, having worked hard all his life, Fred felt the need to be less pressurised, and invited Eleanor’s husband, Harvey Livingston, a young chartered accountant, to join as his assistant. A few years later, another son-in-law, Betsy’s husband, Gary Winston also joined the company. Both Eleanor and Betsy also joined the staff becoming Company Directors, and working within the offices and showrooms.

Fred and Beatrice moved from Hazelden Gardens in Muirend to Lochbroom Drive in Newton Mearns in the 1960s. After their two elder daughters were married, they purchased their final Glasgow home in the upmarket, and at that time exclusive, Barcapel flats, off Capelrig Road, Newton Mearns, where they were amongst the earliest residents.

Fred’s great ambition was to be successful enough to drive a Rolls Royce. He started with a much smaller car, an Austin A40, and, over the years, increased the size and power of his vehicles. He achieved his ambition of owning and driving his own Rolls Royce with a personal registration number of FW 12 in the early 1970s, even giving up cigarettes (he had been a heavy smoker until then) to ensure the car never retained a foul stale smell or a covering of cigarette ash. During his business lifetime, he was able to replace his Rolls Royce with another -although the second vehicle had mechanical problems, embarrassingly breaking down in Shawlands on one occasion. Fred gave up his Rolls Royce and switched to driving an Audi.

His other great ambition was to travel and see the world. Fred and Beatrice were able to do this over the years, returning to Vienna, visiting Italy and the south of France on many occasions, and even completing a 3 month world cruise in the mid 1970s. Their last trip together was back to Hungary to attend a family function of a friend from Switzerland whom they had met in their travels.

Outside of work, Fred’s main interest was playing bridge. With Beatrice as his partner, he competed in both local and national events in which they won numerous tournaments and silverware.

Fred was a major philanthropist particularly within the Jewish Community, supporting a number of care and religious charities. When asked to assist by donating to the annual bazaar of the Jewish Lads and Girls Brigade, he negotiated with several of his suppliers (including the Ferrar family) to obtain free or discounted raw materials. He then manufactured a number of double divan beds each year, which were auctioned off, producing significant sums for the youth organisation with which several of his family members were associated. He was appointed Honorary President of the Glasgow Jewish Lads’ and Girls’ Brigade in the late 1980s – a role he held up to his death.

Fred and Beatrice retired in 1986, on his 65^th birthday, and settled in Majorca where they continued with their passion for Bridge as well as participating in the activities of the synagogue in Palma. They had a wide group of friends there from all over Europe and Fred often had the opportunity to converse in his native German (though he never learned more than a few words of Spanish). Their family visited often, with his grandchildren enjoying trips to their apartment block’s private beach in Costa D’en Blanes (near Portals Nous), to the Marineland Park next door, and the tennis courts just beyond.

Sadly Beatrice passed away in 1995 at the age of 72 (shortly after the Batmitzvah celebrations for their only granddaughter, Karen), and Fred in 2010 at the age of 89. They were survived by their three daughters and their husbands, 8 grandsons and 1 granddaughter, and 2 great-grandchildren. A further 2 great-grandchildren have been born to date.

From shortly after Beatrice’s death until his own, Fred had the constant companionship of Mrs Edna Levinson, both in Majorca and in Glasgow where he returned permanently in 2006 due to failing health.

The Elite Bedding company business still operates under the management of their daughter Betsy and grandson Gregory Winston, and is still a major player in the contract furniture and bedding market in Scotland.

Fred’s example, as a major charitable giver, conscientious worker and communal figure, serves as an example of how a young refugee, given the opportunities and driven by ambition, can succeed in the world, leading a worthwhile life, and leaving a meaningful legacy for his family and the greater community to recognise and emulate.

(Written by Harvey Livingston in 2014 from papers discovered in a tin box in Fred and Beatrice’s home after his death, and from recollections of their children and grandchildren)

(1) This visit could have impressed Fred, but was probably just one of life’s coincidences, as in the 1960’s he and Beatrice moved to an address in the same Lochbroom Drive, at number 25. The original stay may have been at the home of a family who provided respite for refugee families as the Scottish Jewish Archives are aware that other refugees have also stayed there for short periods.