| Notes |
- Written in July 2015, edit 2021
Dear children, grandchildren, brothers, many in-laws, nieces, nephews and friends!
July 2015, last edit 2021
During the summer (2015) I went to Florida to connect with some of our ancient relatives. Of Esther’s immediate family, only sibling Diane is left [Diana Vardian passed away in 2019]. On Floyd’s side, only Uncle Bob remains, as Floyd’s sister Gloria (his wife) died July (2014) of a stroke at 84. I was also lucky enough to enjoy Sylvia Stiftel’s company (Esther’s old friend and Rhona’s mother—passed in April of 2018) —at this writing, she couldn’t tell me any more stories about my parents (she was 93--95 when she died) but she did have some pictures of my Mom and Dad from the 1950’s!
Sadly, our Uncle Bob Prupis is the last of my father’s generation to recount his stories. I know some of these stories reside with cousin Ronnie, Aunt Ruth’s son and JoAnn’s twin. As you may remember, he is one of the lawyers who started the process proving that our family (Markowitz descendants) were the only first cousin survivors of a relative Benjamin Markowitz (the Beadle) from the holocaust. But, that’s another story!
This is the story of Floyd and Esther’s trip to Poland and the town of Floyd’s birth, Nowe Miasto, in 1989. But it’s also some more history of Floyd and his early life in Poland and in the U. S. The record of the trip is in videotape made by Uncle Bob, that I have. Hopefully, I’ll be making it into a DVD this year! (Aaron did it and I have it if anyone wants to see it).
First, a little background. Uncle Bob was an executive with the International Division of Hasbro Toys. (Bob’s claim to fame was his contribution to the successful re-launch of action toy GI Joe). In the late 1980’s he (with Aunt Gloria) was assigned to the company’s London office for a few years. Much earlier, in 1980, the year Rebekkah was born, my Dad and I had a conversation that started with me asking “tell me about your early life in Poland.” He replied, “there is nothing much to tell” and “Poland is dead to me!” Therefore, it was with great surprise that I learned that he and Esther were joining Bob and Gloria, in the Fall of 1989, for a trip to Poland. What had changed? Was it that the Berlin Wall had come down and travel to Eastern Europe was easier? Was it that of all Dad’s relatives, Esther had a special place in her heart for Gloria? Was it that my Dad had come to the point of forgiveness? Was it that Gloria and Bob were familiar with Europe, having spent a few years living in London, and were comfortable traveling to Poland? Or was it simply that Gloria asked Floyd to do it and he agreed! I subsequently found out that the last was the truth.
Uncle Bob told me Floyd recalled stories about his growing up when they began their travels in Europe. Just the act of returning to the place of his birth stimulated many of his memories. Grandpa Arnold (Asher), Floyd’s Dad, had come first to the States in 1921. He earned some money working here and then, after starting the process of naturalization, sent for his family in late 1920’s (1927 to be exact). I have understood that either because of the bone tuberculosis (which was a family legend—the tuberculosis could not be diagnosed until after he had his surgery in the US!) or the fact that Floyd was crippled, the family thought he couldn’t immigrate. When they were boarding the ship, the captain said to my Grandmother, “can you care for this [crippled] child?” My Grandmother answered, “no.” She had no idea what was being asked, she didn’t speak English. Then she was asked if there was anyone else who could care for him.
The story I was told was that Grandpa had indicated to Hinda, his wife, that if Floyd couldn’t immigrate she should “leave him.” Very reluctantly, Grandma left Floyd in the care of her half-sister’s family, crying for years for her little Fischel (Fyszel). From what I know, Floyd’s sisters petitioned a state senator and Floyd was given permission to immigrate provided that the family was willing to care for him (apparently, that was all that was needed –when the family boarded the ship to immigrate, Grandma should have said “yes!”) Due to mis-understanding from English to Polish, years were lost before Floyd could come here. Aaron researched documents providing the dates of immigration and the dates match—the family name was Marchewka!
After Floyd arrived through Ellis Island at about 18 years old (1934, speaking only Yiddish and Polish with his race listed as Hebrew), he had surgery to remove the diseased bone from the femur, which shortened his leg by 6 inches. This was when the “tuberculosis” was first discovered. A “bone splint” was made from his own bone and to stabilize the surgery, his hip and leg were joined together. There was no bending at the hip. He walked by “throwing” the short leg forward, followed by weight on the strong leg. A special lift was put into his shoe to even his gait. Floyd was no more than 5’ 2” yet everyone thought of him as “big” and definitely not disabled. He literally filled a room with his presence, his booming voice, his encyclopedic memory and his charismatic personality. From being abandoned as a child to becoming a successful entrepreneur, investor and philanthropist, he spent a life-time proving that he had a right to survive, when the “other” family in Poland didn’t. His choices were remarkable; he was always taking risks: first, as a teenager leaving Poland for a family he didn’t know in the States and boarding a steamship on his own; later, becoming a businessman, parlaying one “store” into another, starting with concessions in upstate New York, a bakery route, small luncheonettes, and finally to becoming the Deli-City king of New York City. This was not a straight upward route, there were many mis-steps along the way. He lost money, made money and then lost it again, always trying to learn from his mistakes! He achieved lasting financial success at age 60!
Because of his surgery, Floyd spent almost a year in the hospital learning to walk again. During this time, Floyd devoured the Encyclopedia as a way to understand English. However, though he knew there were many opportunities and a new life for him in this country, he was keenly aware of the relatives trapped in Poland.
Personally, he had been victimized by anti-Semitism and the rise of Nazism that was spreading through Europe. In NYC, he soon became a follower of the Russian philosopher and activist Vladimir Jabotinsky, and part of the Zionist movement that was starting in the 30’s and 40’s. Jabotinsky warned the U.S. and Great Britain that the Jews of Eastern Europe faced imminent destruction, saying that “they were living at the edge of a volcano.” He had a plan to move all the Jews out of Europe and bring them to Palestine. No one believed him—the British continued restricting movement of Jews into Palestine, then a British Protectorate. Jabotinsky died in 1940, not knowing that he accurately predicted the slaughter of over 6 million Jews throughout Europe. (At the end of the war, our grandparents sent money to any of the survivors, friends, cousins, from his hometown to come to the States. [This was how the Pianko family, Bella [Ressler] and Selma [Schwartzman] and the Greenblatt family (Helen) came here—the Frielich’s (Isadore and daughter Hedva) went to Israel].
Floyd told Uncle Bob that when Bella and Selma Najman (pronounced Ni man) were released from Auschwitz, they returned to their home in Nowe Miasto, and found that Polish neighbors had taken over their house. They were cursed and spit at by these former neighbors and told “why didn’t they die--they didn’t belong in the town.” [Actually, they all united with Hershel Pianko and made their way back to the American sector of Germany. From there, they were all able to connect with the Markowitz family in New Jersey and come to the US]. The rampant anti-Semitism in Europe didn’t end with the war—it didn’t turn off like a light bulb! When Floyd finally achieved some financial stability, he contributed large sums of money to an orphanage in Israel, helped build a synagogue in Florida, and gave freely to the JDF—it’s possible that his early activism with the Jabotinsky movement was the initial fuel that drove his later philanthropy!
When Floyd, Esther, Gloria and Bob arrived in Warsaw in 1989, they really didn’t know what to expect. Was the town still there, was the family home and business still intact? The first “miracle” my father observed was that the taxi ride from Warsaw to Nowe Miasto (New Town) was only fifteen minutes. Floyd remembered it took over 45 minutes, but that was on horseback. I never knew Floyd was experienced riding horses! He told Uncle Bob that Grandpa Arnold was also an expert horseman. Because of his skill, young Arnold was recruited as a Cossack in the Russian army! [I have since learned that the part of Poland where they lived was at one time under Russian dominion] Conscription would have lasted 20 years, not the life Arnold wanted. He took a sharp pin and pierced his eardrum. The resulting blood and wound (his eardrum was punctured) resulted in his dismissal from the army and the subsequent marriage and children that followed a few years later. How do we view this act? Was it heroic or cowardly? What would have happened to him if he had stayed in the Russian army?
Once in the town, Floyd and his party providentially found the Mayor, another “miracle”! It seemed he was “a righteous Christian” a former member of the Polish underground and resistance movement which fought the Nazi’s during the war. He also remembered Floyd’s cousins (Piankos) who were in the underground with him. First, the group went to the Town Hall to find birth records. Remarkably, both Floyd’s and his brother Ben’s birth certificates were located and brought back. (I have the original!) There were no female birth certificates recorded as the emphasis was on documenting male births. Birthday, for many, were observed with connection to the nearest Jewish holiday at the time of birth.
Soon the police joined the Mayor in helping Floyd locate the places where he grew up. It must have been quite the procession. Floyd was able to visit his old Hebrew school, his former homestead where he lived with aunt, uncle, cousins, and the shop (still standing) where his mother was the butcher, (she was a “shoket”-ritual slaughterer). But, he became confused and said that nothing was the same, it seemed everything was in a different place. In reality, things had been moved as the rambling river along which the town was built actually had been straightened out. Floyd’s photographic memory was so sharp he recognized that the river changed! Some of the town had been relocated with the widening and straightening of the river. Floyd remembered the river as a place where the family went to wash clothes, a peaceful memory! It seems remarkable that he remembered anything after over 50 years.
After visiting the school, they went to find the cemetery where many relatives were buried. The Jewish section of the cemetery had been destroyed: grave markers shattered and headstones defaced. There was a bit of a wooden sign that they found among the ruins which proclaimed “Jewish Cemetery.” There was nothing else left. Even though they knew this was what they would find, the reality of it was overwhelming. Weeping, Floyd, joined by Bob, Gloria and Esther, said Kaddish for their family and all the Jews in the town.
Floyd later explained that the Nowe Miasto where he grew up was a divided town. Half the town was Polish and the other half the sheitel (ghetto) where the Jews lived. Movement in and out of the sheitel became more and more restricted as anti-Semitism increased. Typically, first cousins married, as was the case with the Markowitz and Ostrowitz families—Floyd’s father and mother were first cousins. The shuttered community did not provide much choice in marriage partners! The family Floyd grew up with was the Najman family, the mother Esther, was a half-sister of Hinda’s. I remember my Dad told me that the family was good to him but he felt like an outsider with them, a fact he repeated to Uncle Bob. What I remember was the story he told me of his Bar Mitzvah. His mother sent money to his aunt for the small gifts of candy that were thrown at him at the conclusion of the service: for “sweetness” in learning, after he chanted his prayers. But, in his household, the other boys had little parties for their special day; he didn’t. I think that was why he wanted to have “big celebrations” for his children—Bar Mitzvahs, Weddings, Brit milahs, providing for us over the top elaborate events compensating for the parties he never had.
The other story my Dad told often was the “apple” story. Apples from a neighbor’s home had fallen in the road. Twelve year old Floyd picked up an apple. Immediately, the neighbor shouted out, calling him a thief for stealing apples. Still yelling, the neighbor ordered his huge, growling dogs to “get” the thief! Floyd started to run, but unable to outrun the dogs, the only choice was to climb a large nearby tree. One dog initially grabbed his leg, scratching and biting, but he was able to shake him off as he climbed higher. At this point in the story, my dad would roll up his pants to show us the dog’s bite marks.
The remainder of the trip in Poland was spent visiting Concentration Camps. The video shows Floyd praying at Auschwitz and Birkenau. They returned to London and with Uncle Bob and Aunt Gloria acting as guides, they toured the city, a relaxing conclusion to an emotionally tumultuous trip. Uncle Bob said the trip was cathartic for both Dad and Gloria. My Dad never spoke about it—Uncle Bob gave me the video, and now more than 25 years later, I finally asked the questions I didn’t ask my Dad. Although Dad was strong on that trip, a few months later, we learned he had lung cancer and all of us were consumed with taking care of him and seeking a miracle.
Lung cancer is particularly insidious and by 1991 Floyd was gone.
Thinking of my Dad’s life, in totality, his living was a miracle: he was able to leave Poland and certain death—he was crippled and the Nazi’s would have killed him immediately; he became wealthier than any member of his family even though he had only a grade school education; he lived fifteen years past the time of his major heart attack, though right after it, he was told to “get his affairs in order.” (He always seemed to benefit from the next technological advance in cardiac care.) He educated his children through college, was financially successful and philanthropic, well-respected and loved by many. He lived on his own terms and did what he wanted, never afraid of anything! In the last week of his life he told me that “everyday I’m alive and see the sun, it’s a gift.”
The miracle is that we’re all here because of his and his father’s immigration to the United States.
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1916 - 1991 (75 years)
