Showing posts with label Cold War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cold War. Show all posts

Friday, July 26, 2013

Leaving Czechoslovakia comes to Cleveland


The National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library's traveling oral history exhibit, Leaving Czechoslovakia, is currently on display at Cleveland's Bohemian National Hall. Click here for a list of opening times and directions.

On Sunday, July 28 Project Coordinator Rosie Johnston and the NCSML's Director of National Development Charity Tyler will be on hand to discuss the exhibit's creation, and the work that the NCSML has been doing more generally over the past couple of years - in Cedar Rapids and around the country.

The NCSML is excited about presenting Leaving Czechoslovakia in Cleveland, as so many of the materials used in the exhibit originally came from oral histories recorded in the city. The exhibit contains excerpts from interviews with Zdenka Necasek and Melania Rakytiak, and artifacts such as this theater program, which was shared with the NCSML by interviewee Kveta Eakin:


The presentation of Leaving Czechoslovakia will take place on Sunday, July 28 at 3:00pm at the Bohemian National Hall. For photos of the event, watch this space!

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Related Reading #3: Skutečnost


A Lasting Impression: The Independent Periodical Skutečnost (Reality) was lent to the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library by Peter Demetz. It is a collection of articles which first appeared in the émigré journal Skutečnost, published in Geneva from 1948 until 1953. The anthology is edited by Czech historian Vilém Prečan.

In his interview with Recording Voices & Documenting Memories, one of the journal’s founders, Peter Hruby, explained the idea behind the publication:



In this collection (published by the Československé dokumentační středisko in 2008), selected articles are presented thematically, with chapters dedicated to Czech-German relations, Czech exiles, Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk and democracy and totalitarianism. Contributors include Peter Hruby and Peter Demetz as well as prominent figures in the Czech émigré community such as Pavel Tigrid and Ferdinand Peroutka.

One of the articles which caught my eye in this anthology was titled Tří měsíce v Americe (or Three Months in America), written by Jan Tumlíř in 1952. The introduction to the article sets out his premise:

“Here are a few unrelated comments and nothing original. Excerpts from diaries and letters and interviews. When you spend so long preparing for America and you are here for such a short time, you cannot be certain whether you are really thinking something or merely remembering something you once read…”

The article continues with a few anecdotes from the author’s life in New Haven and his travels to Cleveland. It concludes:

“I have never thought so often about two things as I have in America: home and death. Home and death, where is the connection?

“If I had stayed there, I probably wouldn’t be able to think about anything other than freedom. Leaving Czechoslovakia was the only way for me not to lose my home, if home is the place you love.”

Skutečnost has a small epilogue in English by editor Vilém Prečan. Otherwise it is in Czech. It can be found for purchase at Kosmas.cz.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

New Transcripts at the NCSML

Voucher for buying goods at Tuzex stores in Czechoslovakia

More oral histories have been transcribed as part of Recording Voices & Documenting Memories. Full transcripts are available to researchers upon request at the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library.

In this excerpt from an interview with Dasa Kozakova, she remembers shopping - and the shortage of goods - in Czechoslovakia during the 1970s and 1980s:

"There wasn’t toilet paper. So my father-in-law was forever sitting and cutting newspapers into little squares. Really! There just wasn’t paper... And, for example, onions - all of a sudden for four months there weren’t any onions. And it is difficult to cook Czech food without onions. Czech food has lots of sauces and their base is an onion.
 

"I would always pull up at a store with the kids in a pram and ask what was on sale. Then we would stand in the queue and buy as much of it as we could, because we gave it then to my parents and my mother-in-law too, so that everybody had. And that was it, quite simply - the constant struggle for ordinary things. Then, when I went to work (I worked at Albertov),  there was a little store, and I had to go there at noon to buy bread. Because if I went when I finished work at 3:30, there wasn’t any more. So, there were all of these nonsensical things. In the end, everyone had bread, but with such difficulty! 

"When the boys had just started at primary school, my son sat beside a greengrocer’s son. And the greengrocer’s son was always bringing in oranges or apples – these sorts of things – and my son never had them, because I wasn’t capable of finding them. I went into the grocery store and there were potatoes, maybe carrots. There just weren’t these sorts of things. And so I, even though I didn’t like it, after about half a year of my son saying ‘I want an orange too!’ I said ‘You can’t have one! Oranges are for Christmas!’ – because all of a sudden there were oranges then. Everyone could buy two kilos. They were Cuban, they were ugly – they were good, but they were ugly. They didn’t look good, but they were juicy. So I went to the greengrocer, the kid’s father, and asked him either to stop giving his son this fruit, or to give it to mine too!"

..."Meat was also impossible to find. There was always beef brisket. And if you were lucky there was shank or ribs. But we never saw sirloin. We never saw that sort of meat. You just couldn’t get it, not even in restaurants. I don’t know. You couldn’t find rump steak. Ham? I don’t know where that disappeared. Because again, all you could get was pork belly, you know. So belly and pork brisket you could get. And always on Monday the butcher’s was closed. And so for meat on Tuesday there were queues from first thing. My mother-in-law, she still came from that old school and she still cooked and so she always stood in these queues so as to buy fake tenderloin or something of the sort. So meat was also a big problem. Finding bacon? And ham? Not possible! For a normal person, that is, who didn’t have any connections…"

How were the stores back then? 

"Everybody went about with a string bag. This was a type of bag which looks quite modern – maybe not now but a couple of years ago this bag reappeared. So everyone had a string bag, and when someone by chance saw something available, they bought it!"

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Recording Voices & Documenting Memories in Florida

Late this May, Recording Voices & Documenting Memories made its first trip to Florida. The NCSML recorded the stories of a number of Slovaks and Czechs who had settled in and around Sarasota and Miami in particular.

Emil and Elena Brlit in The Brlit Dental Lab
Emil at work in the Brlit Dental Lab

The first stop was Brlit Dental Lab to meet Emil and Elena Brlit. Emil left Czechoslovakia with his family in 1969, while Elena came to the United States more recently, in 1983. Following each of their interviews, they shared a number of old photographs with Recording Voices & Documenting Memories:

Elena dressed in local kroj as a child in Slovakia

Emil (fifth from left, front row) with the Sarasota Slovak Soccer Club, 1990s


In Miami, the NCSML spoke with Luba DeWitt, head of the local Czech-Slovak Cultural Club. Following her interview, she showed Recording Voices & Documenting Memories the Club’s North Miami home, where a Sunday lunch of goulash was being served:

Luba DeWitt in front of the Miami Czech-Slovak Cultural Club

Preparations for lunch at the Czech-Slovak Clutural Club, Miami

Finally, the NCSML met with Dr. Tomáš Gral, who moved to the United States age 39 in 1964. Dr. Gral shared his experiences of incarceration at Auschwitz and Gleiwitz during WWII, and his memories of studying at medical school in Bratislava immediately after the War.

Portrait of Dr. Tomáš Gral from 1945

Dr. Gral in his apartment, 2013

For clips from Dr. Gral’s and each of these other interviews, follow the NCSML’s oral history web pages over the months to come. 

Monday, April 29, 2013

Leaving or Staying: Personal Stories of 20th-Century Czechs and Slovaks


The following text is the summary of a presentation made at the Bohemian National Hall in New York City on April 23, 2013: 

Since 2009, The National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library (NCSML) has been recording the stories of Czechs and Slovaks who settled in the United States throughout the course of the Cold War. Of the 282 interviews recorded to date, around one tenth have been with people who left during the normalization period. For the purposes of this blog post, normalization means the era following the Soviet-led invasion of Czechoslovakia and prior to the Velvet Revolution. It refers to the 1970s and 1980s, and the rule of Communist Party Leader Gustáv Husák in particular. There are, of course, many reasons why Czechs and Slovaks emigrated during this period. Marek Skolil explains his reasons for departure in the mid-1980s thus: “I realized that I want to leave the country – if I cannot study, I will leave.” Jan Kocvara, meanwhile, suggests that it was for his family’s sake that he decided to leave the country:



Among the older generation of NCSML interviewees, who emigrated in the late 1940s and early 1950s, there are many dramatic stories of crossing the border into West Germany on foot, often with bullets whistling past as they ran. By the 1970s, to all accounts, the process of emigration seems to have been a lot more bureaucratic. Borders were almost hermetically sealed, and the way out of the country was often through bribing and/or tricking a functionary, or stealing a stamp or appropriate piece of letterhead. Jerry (born Jiří) Barta’s experience reflects this trend:



A favorite means of emigration during this time was through the organized coach tour. Interviewees discuss traveling to Yugoslavia and seeking asylum at a UN-run refugee camp in Belgrade. West Germany was another country in which Czech and Slovak tourists frequently claimed asylum. Tomas Pavlicek took a coach to Munich with his daughter in 1987:



In total, historians believe that around 13,000 Czechs and Slovaks settled in the United States during the normalization period. Following the Velvet Revolution, it is thought that thousands of them returned to today’s Czech and Slovak Republics. 

Monday, November 26, 2012

Related Reading #1: Under a Cruel Star


For those looking for eyewitness accounts of life in (and emigration from) Czechoslovakia in written form, a good place to start might be Under a Cruel Star: A Life in Prague 1941-1968 by Heda Margolius Kovály.

Kovály’s account opens in wartime Prague on the eve of her deportation to the Łódź Ghetto and then Auschwitz. Kovály subsequently describes escaping Nazi captivity and returning to the Czech capital, where former friends turn her away fearing persecution should they assist her.

Following the end of the War, Kovály is reunited with her old companion, Rudolf Margolius, whom she marries. The rest of the book charts Margolius’ rising political star following the Communist coup in 1948, his execution following a notorious show trial in 1952, and Kovály’s persistent efforts to rehabilitate her late husband.

Kovály left Czechoslovakia for the United States following the Warsaw Pact invasion in 1968. She recalls her emigration in the final chapter of her book:

“At the end of September, the invaders were still sitting in full strength at the airports. I boarded a train, carrying two small suitcases and twenty dollars in my pocket.

“The train was crammed. Facing me sat two students, a young man and a girl, who were headed for Holland. We talked about books and about life, and the pretty girl kept complaining that she had left behind her new hat.

“’Don’t you think,’ she kept asking ‘That going into exile would be less awful if I were traveling in a beautiful new hat?’

“Later, a grouchy middle-aged German tourist came into the compartment with her small daughter. The little girl stared at the three of us curiously and then asked, ‘Mutti, why are these people so sad?’”

“Her mother snapped at her ‘Don’t you know the Czechs love their country, you dummy?’…”


Heda Margolius Kovály died in Prague in 2010. For more details on her book, Under a Cruel Star: A Life in Prague 1941-1968, click here.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

More Political Prisoner Transcripts In

For the past couple of months, intern Cecilia Greco has been transcribing interviews that the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library recorded with former political prisoners. In the second transcript in this series, Czech-American Robert Budway (who was imprisoned on a visit back to Czechoslovakia in 1962) remembers the way that his childhood in Bohemia was affected by the onset of WWII:

Robert Budway in his hometown of Těchonice, circa 1935

"When the disintegration of Czechoslovakia began, I was 10 years old. I was not really even 10 years old. I lived it intensively; I believed at 10 years old, I realized the gravity of what was happening. So by the time the country totally ceased to exist, I was 11. Then when I went to high school, I could not change down deep in my heart and mind that what I have learned in those first formative years in that grade school in that little village of Těchonice to love the Czech scene; Czech nation; Czech history; Czech everything. It was difficult to come to terms that I must repeat things I didn't believe. And I also was a little shocked because most teachers I encountered in my experience in the First Czechoslovak Republic, the Second Czechoslovak Republic... I think were very decent people who were doing their best to educate the young people in the spirit of Czechoslovak ideas. However, there were a few who did not, and I had difficulty with that. I would rebel in my usual way, even pretend. When they asked a question, let's say pertaining to German geography – and I was a geography buff – I would immediately declare loud and clear, 'I do not know.' And everybody in the classroom knew that I knew. It was daring at that particular time to even answer to a teacher, 'I don't know.' If you didn't know, you would look down and be silent. But that was also considered my American or rebellious way, I did not know. Even the teacher sensed that I must have known because after all, he did give me the best grade in geography. And yet I answered his question on examinations – many times when I didn't like the question, 'I don't know.'"

You said that in school you would have to repeat things you didn't believe... What sorts of things? I know that you were talking a lot about Germany, but what in particular?

"Right. First of all, the spirit of education at that particular time was suddenly [that the] German language was the language you learn; German besides Czech. Then there was an emphasis on a 'Future Europe,' a so-called Neuordnung Europas – that is, in German, a new order in Europe.  That was all around. To listen to the news and declarations of loyalty to German leadership, that was definitely something that was very hard to swallow. For somebody whose heroes were [Tomáš Garrigue] Masaryk, [Edvard] Beneš, and [Milan] Štefánik. So that was the thing. For example, we had to also do recycling. [We collected] scraps and all sorts of things. That was something I rebelled against, because I had to meet certain quotas. In high school you had to deliver so much and so much, I no longer can tell you, but let's say 10kg of scrap. Or you have an option; you can do it [by bringing] some metal, that means one object will do. Or you can collect papers and other things, which would take you quite a lot of time to do. So one time I went to do a shortcut, so I was caught taking some of my mother's cooking pots. And when she realized this is what I wanted to do, she said, 'You little fool' – I want to repeat the name she called me – 'Do you know that your uncles and your father may be in America's army? And they are going to produce bullets out of this thing... You are actually going to contribute to the killing of your own compatriots, of your American relatives, who must for sure be in the army!' Certainly it was a cold shower for me. I dropped it, and then had to collect what in Czech is called byliny, which is collecting herbs. And that took me weeks and weeks because I had to dry it, I had to find some bag to put it in, drag it up to the high school – and I walked two hours to high school. So obviously it would have been much easier to pick up one pot and I'd meet my quota. 

"This was quite an experience which made me aware again that I do have somebody in the United States, and there is a war going on. And I was contributing unknowingly, unwillingly to [something like this]. These were the types of things I really objected to. And everything that was German was always bigger, and that also aggravated me. Even though I must admit, certain things certainly were quite interesting. I did not reject learning something about Mozart, Schiller, and Goethe. I did not object to seeing a German movie; they fascinated me, most of them were for kids. But then I was nothing but 14 years old. But I do know that Czech movies tell me much more, I have much recollection of Czech movies even up today. Usually at that time, the quality movies were taken from Czech literature. And I was familiar with Czech literature, so I knew what they were trying to convey to me and they did their job. They did convey to me a very nice [message], you know, that there's something else besides Germany; that Czechs are here to stay. And I felt what one of the earlier Czech patriots during the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, Karel Havlíček Borovský, said in Czech, 'Jsme a budeme' – 'We are and we are going to be.' That's a loose translation of the Czech nationalism defying the Austrian Monarchy. So, I used that against the German domination, which was in place there."

Where did you go to high school?

"I went to a high school in a small regional town called Plánice. Plánice was about a two-hour walk from the village where I lived. So I was quite a familiar figure to the countryside. I had to pass through a number of villages, everybody knew 'That's the American, that's Bobek from Těchonice who is going to high school.' And every fruit tree by the road, I knew them very well. So it was an adventure. I did not have a bicycle because it was difficult to obtain during the War. Even then my grandparents tried hard to find a bicycle, but somehow I preferred to walk. And a walk actually taught me something about perseverance: no matter what, or what weather, I will definitely go to school. During wintertime I would have to wake up by 5 o'clock; by 6 [o'clock] I would be on the road. I do particularly remember one winter, very early in the morning when it looked like this was not a day to go to school – grandmother and mother were looking out of the window and definitely saying no. But I would say yes, and I would start my journey to school... I got stuck very fast; I still could see our house, and I cried there because there was so much snow so I was falling in, and I had to get up, and [would fall] down again. But I dared to say, 'I am not going to go back and admit that they were right, I will go through this to the end.' I believe I have learned a lot about – which came to help me during the War and after the War – perseverance, don't give up."

For more on Robert Budway, visit his oral history profile at www.ncsml.org. 

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Humanities Iowa event in Des Moines, October 17


The NCSML is opening its oral history traveling exhibit, Leaving Czechoslovakia, in Des Moines Public Library Central Branch on Wednesday, October 17. 

At the opening, speakers will include Dr. Kieran Williams (Drake University), Dr. Mila Saskova-Pierce (University of Nebraska - Lincoln), Dr. Igor Tchoukarine (Macalester College) and Recording Voices & Documenting Memories interviewee Peter Vodenka.

The opening will run from 6:00pm - 8:00pm. It is free and open to the public. Leaving Czechoslovakia will remain on display at Des Moines Public Library until October 31. 

Please RSVP to Rosie Johnston by October 12 at rjohnston@ncsml.org. 

The event is co-sponsored by the Iowa International Center and Des Moines Public Library. It is made possible by a grant from Humanities Iowa, an affiliate of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

New Transcripts Just In

Recording Voices & Documenting Memories is happy to welcome a new intern. For the past two months, Cecilia Greco has been producing transcripts of interviews with former Czech & Slovak political prisoners and their families. Watch the NCSML's oral history web pages over the weeks to come for the complete transcripts and, in the meantime, here is a taster of what to expect:

Jana Svehlova three weeks before her father's arrest

Jana Svehlova was interviewed in Washington, D.C. in 2010:

"My parents left Czechoslovakia in 1939. But they married in England – they met in England. My father was with the Royal Air Force – with the 311 Czechoslovak Squadron. And my mother managed to get to England as a domestic person. And her War duty was delivering milk to English homes. And all her life she complained about those dirty English women not washing those glass milk bottles properly."

So, both of your parents fled the Nazis?

"Yes, they fled the Nazis. And my father and mother met in Cardiff, because my mother went with her friends to an official Air Force Club in Cardiff. And she was still very sad because her boyfriend in Czechoslovakia told her he wouldn't marry her. But she was persuaded by her friends, and she went. And in walks a group of handsome Czechoslovak airmen. And one of them asked her to marry him – I mean, I'm sorry, to dance with him. And she said yes. And next, he asked her to lend him money for cigarettes. (Laughs) And next thing, they have a date. And then he asked her to marry him because he said, 'look, I'm going to get killed anyway. So why shouldn't a nice Czech girl get a good pension?' And so they married in May 1943. And I must admit, I was born December 1943."

So, when did you then return to Czechoslovakia?

"Well, my father couldn't wait to get back to Czechoslovakia. So in August 1945 – immediately after the War when they demobilized – he went back to Prague. And my mother did not want to return because she was from the Sudetenland, her first language was German, and she didn't have the best memories of Prague just before the War. So she wanted to stay in England, but my father wouldn't hear of it. So, first the families of people who fought with the Allies were flying back. But so many planes crashed that the Red Cross organized that the spouses - basically the wives and the children - would go by train and boat. So my mother and I then came by train to Czechoslovakia in 1945."

... Jana's father was arrested in December 1949, when she was 10 years old. Despite this, Jana says she still has good memories from childhood:

"I was never hungry. My mother told me, and I have lived with this my mother complaining, not having money for example for coal. So, I know that one of the neighbors we found out later that that particular neighbor was the one that was reporting on us to the Secret Police. But she was very nice to us. (Laughs) And she gave us money, or lent us money for coal. And also, when my mother was writing to the president and everybody else, you know, 'Let my husband out; he's been out there now five years; I think he's reeducated.' Because her first language was German, she was never sure about the Czech grammar. So this particular neighbor was also helping her with those letters. And I after my mother died, she died when she was 92 in England and I found she kept all the letters from my father from prison. All those 10 years, year-by-year. So I found those letters and it was kind of funny. Oh, and some of the letters she wrote to the president. And she also wrote a letter to the commandant of the labor camp, 'My husband has been there for seven years now; let him out. I'm sick, and my child needs a father.' And he wrote back, 'Your husband's behavior is not right. He is not reeducated and he plays cards.' Because sometimes when they were down in the mine, you know, the guards wouldn't go down there. So, somebody obviously must have said it that he played cards. (Laughs) My mother wrote back, 'Well, he was a gambler before he went to prison, and I guess the prison hasn't cured him yet.' (Laughs) So, they didn't let him out. Maybe because he was playing cards." (Laughs)

Visit http://www.ncsml.org/Content/Oral-Histories.aspx for more full-length transcripts over the months to come.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Barbara Reinfeld’s Refugee Camp Diary, 1948





















At a recent oral history shoot, Recording Voices & Documenting Memories interviewee Barbara Reinfeld (née Koháková) shared her childhood diary with us.


















Refugees in West German camps were issued with these scrapbooks, which they were encouraged to “keep as a permanent souvenir of the current unpleasantness.” In fact, these diaries had been repurposed from World War II, when they were intended to lift the spirits of prisoners of war.




















In her diary, Barbara documents moving from one refugee camp to another, shopping in American military PX stores, receiving CARE packages and comparing the taste of Coca Cola and Pepsi Cola.



The diary contains a number of photos, including these images of a wedding in Barbara’s refugee camp in August, 1948. Note that the wedding car is a decorated International Refugee Organization jeep.

While in West Germany, Barbara and her family were in touch with the Alexander family in the United States. In the summer of 1948, they sent the Koháks a photo of their children with the following inscription:

“This is to show Raza & Barbara how American children dress in the Middle West. Willa’s shorts are navy blue, her shirt a red plaid. Buzz’ are navy blue cowboy jeans with a light blue plaid shirt. David’s T-shirt is bright blue, his pants are of U.S. army material – khaki colored. The picture was taken for you – the children knew why, which is no doubt why they look so serious.”


Barbara started seventh grade in fall 1948, where she made a number of friends mentioned throughout this diary. To her entry for September 20, 1948 she attaches this invite to her friend Virginia Rice’s party at which, she is reassured, “there will not be any boys there.”   

 
For clips from Barbara Reinfeld’s oral history, watch the NCSML’s oral history pages over the months to come.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Changes wrought by the Velvet Revolution


From left to right: Rasto Gallo, Igor Mikolaska and Peter Vaščák

In May, Isabelle du Moulin wrote to the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library from the Bay School in San Francisco, asking to use some of our oral histories for a research project she was conducting on the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia. She recently sent us her finished paper. Here are some excerpts from her work:

In 1989, a wave of protests swept across Eastern Europe. In November of 1989, the Czechoslovak people began to take action as well, demanding free elections and an end to the communist regime that had existed for more than 40 years. After less than a month of protests, the Communist government was forced to negotiate and was soon replaced by a transitional government. Václav Havel, a leader of the protest movement, was elected president the following month, becoming Czechoslovakia’s first non-Communist leader since 1948. This Velvet Revolution, named for its smooth, nonviolent, nature, changed the lives of everyone living in the country – from students, to families, to all working citizens. 

The Velvet Revolution led to a multitude of systemic changes that transformed education, migration, and the economic market in Czechoslovakia, greatly affecting the lives of people across the country… To understand the effects of the Velvet Revolution on the Czechoslovak population, one must take a closer look at the ways in which individual lives have been shaped by this event in history. 

Rasto Gallo immediately took advantage of the new academic options that became available after changes were made in the education system. Peter Vaščák, though young at the time, was profoundly impacted by the Revolution and the changes that resulted – in particular, the opening of the borders which allowed him to reunite with his father, who had left the country illegally. Tomas Votocek, a carpenter, was able to start his own company because of the privatization of business—one of many steps in the economic transition from communism to capitalism. These individuals’ perspectives each represent the larger story of each community’s collective narrative.

Rasto Gallo was born in Slovakia in 1970. He grew up in Banská Bystrica where he spent his free time playing the piano, as well as hiking and skiing in the nearby mountains. He began learning English while attending gymnázium, the equivalent to an American college preparatory high school today. Gallo was very interested in the popular Western music of the time, and it was his passion for this music that furthered his knowledge of the English language. As he says, “I wanted to know what [the artists] were singing about… I translated all their lyrics, and that’s how I really got much better at English.” After gymnázium, Gallo went on to study music education at a teacher’s college in Banská Bystrica. His first year at university was marked by the protests of the Velvet Revolution. Gallo himself was out in the streets almost every day, supporting the protest movement. Many other students as well, like Ondrej Krejci, who partook in a strike at his high school, participated in the events of the Revolution. 

For many students, it was hard to study the subjects they were passionate about before the Revolution… Afterwards, however, Gallo was able to study English, which led to many new career opportunities, both in and out of the country. These changes to the education system applied to elementary schools as well. Igor Mikolaska, who was ten at the time of the Revolution, remembers that Russian was no longer mandatory after the Revolution, and that German became an option—Igor immediately switched.

The reunification of families and even the ability to travel without fear were direct results of the Velvet Revolution, which had life-changing consequences for many people. Peter Vaščák was born in Bratislava in 1981 and grew up with his father, mother, and sister. They were living on the border with Austria, says Vaščák: “I remember the barbed wire fence and the soldiers… They were just walking [along] the fence the whole time with German shepherds and AK-47s. They were watching for people [trying] to escape.” In 1989, Vaščák’s father obtained a permit through his job as an air traffic controller which allowed him to travel to the United States for one month. He did not return. While watching the protests of the Velvet Revolution on TV, Vaščák, who lived on the twelfth floor of an apartment building, remembers yelling off the balcony, “Open the border, open the border!” He explains, “[My father] was gone, and we couldn’t get to the United States because they didn’t want to give us visas.” Vaščák’s father, like many other escapees, could not return to Czechoslovakia because he had left the country illegally. 

Matt Carnogursky left Czechoslovakia in 1983 when he booked a two week trip to Italy through a travel agency—he was 23 years old at the time, and was close to graduation at a technical university in Bratislava. Carnogursky did not return to Czechoslovakia until the Revolution, six years later. Before the Revolution, Carnogursky did not dare go back because, technically, he had committed a criminal offense. But, as he explains, “The first time we went there was literally a few weeks after the Revolution, and I could not even believe when my dad said, ‘Come back, come and visit. It’s no problem… It’s completely free, everything changed.’”

… These stories of individual experience reveal much about the impact of the Velvet Revolution. There were many more opportunities for education, travel and business. The strict laws of the communist regime gave way to new freedoms, a more relaxed civil society and, for many people, the opportunity to reunite with loved ones and fulfill dreams of travel or enterprise. The rapid response and willingness of individuals to make major changes in their lives, such as emigration, show the importance of the changes post-Revolution and indicate that many people had been waiting for their chance. The effects of these changes can still be seen and inform our understanding of the Czech Republic and Slovakia today.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Leaving Czechoslovakia Exhibit in New York City


On June 27, The National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library unveiled its oral history exhibit, Leaving Czechoslovakia, in New York City. The exhibit is at the Bohemian National Hall, 321 E 73rd Street, where it will be open to the public until July 11.



The exhibit is on display on the third floor of the Bohemian National Hall, from Monday to Friday, between 12pm and 5pm. If you are interested in watching a DVD of interview clips which accompanies the exhibit, please call (212) 988-1733 to schedule in advance.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Peter Palecek on his father, General Václav Paleček


In his interview with Recording Voices & Documenting Memories, Peter Palecek shared a number of documents and details about his father, the late General Václav Paleček. In addition to what you can find at www.ncsml.org, here is a bit more about General Paleček, in his son’s own words:

Photo of Vaclav Paleček courtesy of his son, Peter
“My father Václav Paleček was born on November 20, 1901 in Plzeň, western Bohemia. He became President of the National Union of Czechoslovak Students in the interwar period. Between 1934 and 1939, he served as Secretary General of the Czechoslovak-Yugoslav Chamber of Commerce, in which capacity he made frequent trips to Yugoslavia. In late 1939, he escaped occupied Czechoslovakia through Yugoslavia and Italy to join the Czechoslovak troops in France. After France fell to Hitler in June 1940, the Czechoslovak troops moved from France to London, where he joined the Czechoslovak government-in-exile. He worked first for the Ministry of Finance under Ladislav Feierabend and later for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs under Jan Masaryk. My father was instrumental in organizing international students against Nazi Germany and became co-founder and president of International Students’ Day on November 17, 1941 in London. Later, as president of the World Youth Council, he was invited for a six-month lecture tour of the United States by First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt. He spoke at 56 conferences and discussions on the postwar economic reconstruction of Europe in 39 states of the Union. The lecture tour culminated with a visit to Vice President Henry Wallace in the White House in December 1943. The six months of lectures throughout the United States, which addressed thousands of students (as well as a broader American public), represented one of the most significant promotional efforts for Czechoslovakia in the United States ever.

Wartime photo of General Paleček
“After the War, in June 1945, my father was named Chief of the Czechoslovak Military Mission in Berlin. He dealt with war reparations, the design and implementation of the Marshall Plan, the repatriation of Germans, and a myriad of other issues critical for his homeland. Following the Communist coup in Czechoslovakia in 1948, he was arrested and sentenced to 13 years in prison. In 1957, his sentence was reduced to 7 years and with poor health impacted by many years of working in uranium mines he returned to his family. His sentence was nullified in 1967 but as a former political prisoner he was unable to find a job. He traveled to the United States to visit me at Stanford in 1970 and it was here that he died on March 22.”

In this clip from Peter Palecek’s interview with Recording Voices & Documenting Memories, he remembers visiting his father in jail in western Bohemia in the 1950s:



For Czech readers, more about General Václav Paleček can be found in Josef Pejskar’s four-volume work Posledni pocta, which maps Czech and Slovak emigration from 1939-1994.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Leaving Czechoslovakia Exhibit Opening in Oak Park


On Friday, May 11, the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library (NCSML) unveiled its oral history exhibit Leaving Czechoslovakia at Oak Park Public Library in Illinois. The exhibit draws upon the first two years’ worth of interviews gathered through Recording Voices & Documenting Memories, and focuses on Cold War-era Czech & Slovak immigration to the United States.



The exhibit runs until May 27 in the library’s ‘Idea Box.’ It is free and open to the public.

Library Director Deirdre Brennan (left) with board members David Sokol and Mila Tellez

Slovak Honorary Consul Rosemary Macko Wisnosky

 Consul General of the Czech Republic in Chicago Dana Hunatova

At the exhibit opening, speeches were given by members of Oak Park Public Library’s board with a Czech connection, Mila Tellez and David Sokol. The Consul General of the Czech Republic in Chicago, Dana Hunatova, and the Slovak Honorary Consul Rosemary Macko Wisnosky also spoke.


Patriotic Slovak and Czech cupcakes were provided by the NCSML Guild. They proved to be something of a fashion statement:



Click here for more information about Leaving Czechoslovakia at Oak Park Public Library.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Leaving Czechoslovakia Exhibit Preview


Since January 2012, the Recording Voices & Documenting Memories team has been working to assemble a traveling exhibit which presents some of the highlights of the oral history project so far.

The exhibit, Leaving Czechoslovakia, will debut at Oak Park Public Library on May 11, 2012. It will run until May 27.

The exhibit focuses on Cold War-era Czech & Slovak immigration to the United States, and is split into three sections: the first presents some of the reasons why Czechs and Slovaks emigrated, the second deals with how Czechs and Slovaks made it to the United States and the third looks at what happened next.

The exhibit consists of display panels with photographs and quotes, and a DVD in which 20th-century Czech & Slovak émigrés to America present their stories in their own words.

Here are a couple of the clips you will see in the second section of the exhibit, in which interviewees discuss how they left Czechoslovakia:

Karel Ruml was raised in Nymburk, Bohemia. In 1951, he and a group of accomplices hijacked a train in order to cross the border into West Germany:



Jiri Pehe, meanwhile, left Czechoslovakia with his wife in 1981. The pair traveled to Yugoslavia, where they succeeded in persuading two Austrian tourists to help them across the border into Austria:



The opening reception for Leaving Czechoslovakia will be held at Oak Park Public Library on May 11 at 7pm. It is free and open to the public, though guests are asked to RSVP to Leah Wilson (lwilson@ncsml.org) by May 9. The exhibit will run until May 27 and then go on display in New York City in June. 

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Czech and Slovak Resistance to Communism: An Individual Matter

Poster calling for the dissolution of People's Militias, Prague 1989

In the last of our series of posts from Utah State University, Recording Voices & Documenting Memories presents the work of history student Kate Rouse DuHadway who, in this essay, reflects upon Czech and Slovak resistance to communism:

When we in the United States think of political or military resistance, especially resistance to communism, we might think of stone-faced fighters, governments-in-exile, or clandestine opposition groups. Not all resistance to communism was so brazen, however, nor typical of what we in the United States might normally associate with resistance. By analyzing a few of the oral histories collected by the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library, I will show how many acts and attitudes such as religious and individual expression, which we in the West today may consider passive or harmless, became a means of resistance for ordinary Czechs and Slovaks during the years of what Vaclav Havel refers to as “post-totalitarianism” in the former Czechoslovakia.

Susan Mikula with her mother, sister and father Jozef

Even before Victorious February and Czechoslovakia's official transformation into a communist state, Susan Mikula said her father, an exiled member of the Tiso government, began working with the OSS (the forerunner of the American CIA), to oppose communism and undermine the new regime in whatever way he could. Headed by Catholic priest and right-wing politician Jozef Tiso, the short-lived government of Slovakia proclaimed its independence from the Czech half of the republic in March 1939, under pressure from Hitler.  After the Nazi defeat, Tiso was tried and executed in Czechoslovakia in 1947,  while many members of his former government fled to Austria, including Jozef Mikula.  As the communists rapidly gained political traction in post-war Czechoslovakia, Mikula founded the Biela Legia around that time with Jozef Vicen. The Biela Legia, or white league, was an underground Czech and Slovak resistance organization based in Austria, which gathered intelligence for the West and arranged for the escape of political prisoners,  and through which Susan Mikula, her mother and sister also escaped through Austria to the United States.  Jozef Mikula's was a bold and brazen form of political resistance, for which his wife and daughters suffered dearly under the regime, and would have suffered more had they not escaped.

 Helena Fabry at Ludwigsburg refugee camp

Helena Fabry, a journalist in Prague during the early years of communism in Czechoslovakia, exercised a more subtle form of resistance as the ethics of the new regime conflicted with the ethical considerations of her job. Before the end of WWII, while the Nazis still occupied Czechoslovakia, Edvard Benes' government-in-exile had predetermined the exile of ethnic Germans and Hungarians (all except the ones who had openly resisted the occupation) from the country. In order to punish “Nazi criminals, traitors, and their abettors,” Benes issued a decree in June 1945 establishing “Extraordinary People's Courts,” comprised of a professional jurist and four lay associates. Because they were nominated by the national committees, which were highly influenced by the Czech Communist Party, the People's Courts became a means by which the communists conveniently disposed of political opponents, and protected party members who had been true conspirators and collaborators with the Nazis.  

Fabry described her direct experience with the so-called People's Courts in her interview with the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library.   After a year living in Prague and writing for the Czech newspaper Svoboda Slova, Fabry was sent to the small town of Louny to supply content for the localized last page of the Slova. As part of her job, she attended many of the People's Court trials, where she said local farmers were being handed harsh sentences for so-called “crimes against the republic,” which could constitute anything from “having one more goose than they were supposed to have,” in Fabry's words, or because “they didn't return the proper amount of grain which they were supposed to give to the state, to the supply office.”

“It didn't need to be true,” Fabry said in her interview. “It was strictly political abuse, ... making the people afraid. And the judgments were swift and fast, and sentences were harsh and immediate. Even prison terms, the forfeiting of, confiscating of the property, or at least harsh fines. I could not believe that something like that, such abuse of power, was possible, and abuse of people. So I wrote article after article about it, and that, of course, didn't please the communists really at all.”

Because of her articles, Fabry said she was told by the city of Louny to leave town and never come back. Upon her return to Prague, she received a notice after a few days that she was officially expelled from the association of journalists, and her professional license was revoked. When she had first come to Louny on assignment from her editor-in-chief in Prague, Fabry did not say that she set out to actively resist communism, but as her experience with the communist-controlled People’s Courts increasingly soured her view of the party and its actions, she became one of the first to resist in the way that Vaclav Havel described in his 1978 essay: she sought to “live within the truth. ” As the local communist leaders sought, in Fabry's view, to create a facade of intimidation, to create the “crust of lies” that Havel described within their own town, Fabry's actions became a real threat. She was attempting to break through the facade, to tip the row of carefully placed dominoes that posed as an iron wall of repression. Later, she resisted by learning code and passing along secret messages for an underground group, but she began her dissent as a natural reaction to something she perceived as inherently unjust. Unarmed and initially apolitical, she resisted by choosing the value of truth above the value of “building socialism.”

 George Mesko's wedding photo, 1960

George Mesko, a medical doctor raised in the Catholic church, resisted the establishment in communist Czechoslovakia simply by choosing to get married in the Catholic church, and by having his children baptized in secret. According to him, “in secret” meant traveling to Budapest in the case of his wedding, or to a small town in the countryside in the case of his children's baptisms, finding the church and knocking the priest's door, then having the priest perform the ceremony with the priest's  housekeeper acting as godmother. As a student living in a Catholic boys' dormitory in 1950, Mesko witnessed first-hand the infamous raids on nunneries and monasteries, where thousands of nuns, monks and priests were imprisoned or sent to labor and internment camps.  In his own dormitory, Mesko said two priests, a brother and the nuns were removed over a period of two to three years, and he described the dorms as gradually being “infiltrated” by “Martians,” his term for both communists and girls. He said some of the clergy chose to assimilate to the communist party and its views in the interest of self-preservation, in the same vein as Havel's green grocer, who decides to display a “Workers of the World, Unite!” slogan in his window to protect himself within the system.  But Mesko had very little respect for those clergymen, and he claimed that students did not listen to them because of their communist sympathies. Like Jozef Mikula and Helena Fabry, Mesko was a communist resistor. Instead of working for the CIA or passing along secret messages, however, Mesko's resistance was comprised of the simple and seemingly unassuming acts of having a church wedding and having his children baptized. By displaying his individuality and belief in something outside of a system that allowed for neither individuality nor allegiance to groups or organizations outside of itself, Mesko was as much a resistor and a perceived threat to the system as Helena Fabry.

Although it placed him outside of the established system, which at that time provided sustantial benefits for those who would simply play the game, Mesko pursued his religion because it was an integral part of his individual identity. To give that up would be to give up an important part of himself. “It's difficult to say, but when you're growing up with this heritage and you see the morality which originally comes with that, you know, it's part of your ego that you are trying to be a decent human being,” Mesko said of his Catholic background. “I'm not saying that who(ever) is not a church-goer is not a moral person, … but I felt that it's kind of very important that we stay with our tradition.”

From the oral histories cited in this paper, one can see that individual Czechs and Slovaks had many reasons, and many methods of resistance to the “post-totalitarian” regime. In a political ideology that denied individuality, the very expression of that individuality became, in Havel's eyes, one of the primary means of resistance.  From the interviews of Susan Mikula, Helena Fabry, and George Mesko, one can see that for each of them, the means of resistance were highly individual. For Jozef Mikula, it was political and public. For Helena Fabry, it was ideological and subversive, and for George Mesko, it was personal and private. Each individual, especially Fabry and Mesko, seemed to start down the path of resistance with a value (such as truth or tradition) that they deemed to be more important than the ideology of communism, and which, to them, superseded the social pull to conform. If placed in a political environment that would have tolerated extra-political values and loyalties, their actions do not seem revolutionary or clandestine. In a system that aimed to “subordinate society to the state, ” however, even simple acts of free expression and individuality became genuine threats to the regime. Just as Havel's green grocer, who, by refusing to display the party slogan in his window, refused to play into the facade, and by so doing, undermined the very core of the regime's legitimacy.

- The National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library would like to thank Utah State University, and specifically Dr. Shawn Clybor, for making this project possible.