Showing posts with label Bratislava. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bratislava. Show all posts

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.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Interviewee Vladimir Krman In His Own Words

It is rare that we have an article in Slovak or Czech on this Recording Voices & Documenting Memories blog. But happily, that is just one of the things that this blog provides a platform for – especially when it is one of our interviewees who is the author:


Fred Tornil/ Vladimir Krman in Air Force uniform, 1949

Fred Tornil (aka Vladimir Krman) spoke to Recording Voices & Documenting Memories in January 2011. He recently contacted the NCSML to say that interest in Slovakia had led him to translate his profile into his mother tongue. In his correspondence with the museum he wrote:

“I sat down and spent a few evenings doing this literary ‘assignment’. I did modify some small details, but basically it is a "loose" translation of the original. I don't have a Slovak keyboard, so I typed it without the customary diacritics. People in the old country have no problem reading it…”

So here you have it, Fred Tornil in his own words, in his own tongue:

Vladimir Krman sa narodil roku 1929 v Bratislave. Tam studoval na Obchodnej akademii, lebo rodicia chceli, aby sa stal bankovym uradnikom, ale so studiom neskor skoncil a v 1948 vstupil k vojenskemu letectvu. Lietat zacal v 1946 roku v bratislavskom aeroklube na Dubravke a vo Vajnoroch. Ziskal niekolko kategorii uznania v plachtarstve i v parasutisme. Po absolvovani vojenskeho vycviku ako catar, neskor rotny a starsina, bol zaradeny do vycviku vojenskych pilotov v Piestanoch a na Troch Duboch pri Zvolene. Postupom casu bol podla sovietskeho vzoru povyseny na podporucika, potom na porucika. Ilegalne opustil Ceskoslovensko zaciatkom 1953 roku, ked, ako hovori, dostal sa do nesnadzi kvoli "politickej neaktivite". Bol tiez clenom leteckej akrobatickej skupiny. Vladimir hovori, ze by bol zbaveny funkcie ucitela lietania a teda i moznosti lietat, preto sa odhodlal k uletu.

Vladimir, koncom 1952 roku, spolu s bratrancom Jozefom Fleischhackerom a ich priatelom Gustavom Molnarom vymyslel plan ako opustit Ceskoslovensko. Hovori, ze plan uteku bol planovany v tanecnej sale Reduty v Bratislave, za zvukov Americkeho slagru Domino. A tak i pomenovali ich akciu “Operacia Domino”. Bolo dohodnute, ze ked Gustav bude mat funkciu “dozorneho straze,” Vladimir a Jozef za noci vklznu do hangara a pripravia lietadlo ku startu. Potom v skorych rannych hodinach odstartuju smerom do Rakuska, kde poziadaju o “azyl”. Moznost uteku nastala v piatok 13. marca 1953 v Piestanoch. Vladimir hovori, ze plan uteku prebiehol bez chyby, az na to, ze kratko po prelete Rakuskych hranic uzreli dva Ruske Mig-15-ky. Za stalej tmy sa im ale podarilo uniknut zmenou kurzu a nizkym letom.

Tito traja bezpecne doleteli do Graza, kde po “de-briefingu” mali tlacovu konferenciu a zverejnenie ich uteku. V priebehu 10 dni sa ocitli v Londyne, kde im k voli bezpecnosti britsky hostitelia navrhli zmenu mien. Vladimir si zvolil meno Frederick Tornil, ktore pouziva dodnes. Po jedom roku v Anglii, Vladimir emigroval do Kanady. Posobil tam ako instruktor na Torontskom letisku a zaroven pracoval v General Motors v Oshawe. V 1958 pre-emigroval do Spojenych Statov a usadil sa v Chicagskej oblasti. Pracoval v Rockwell-Standard Corporation, potom v Zenith Radio & Television a konecne v General Motors EMD v La Grange, kde posobil vyse 30 rokov. Ma licenciu “Obchodneho Pilota” a lietal z letiska “DuPage County Airport”, uz len iba zalubou. Ozenil sa s jeho niekdajsiou laskou z bratislavskeho aeroklubu, Ruzenou. Za Dubcekovej ery prisla do USA so synom Romanom, (ktory neskorsie sluzil u Americkeho Vojenskeho letectva - USAF). Vladimir a Ruzena maju dvoch dalsich synov Martina a Daniela. Vladimir hovori, ze rad hraval fotbal, lyzoval a zucastnoval sa zabav v Slovenskom atletickom klube (Slovak A.A.) v Chicagu. Dnes sa venuje roznym opravam okolo domu, aut a motoriek.

Vladimirovi rodicia chceli, aby bol bankovym uradnikom a nie pilotom:

“Rodicia boli velmi proti tomu, nechceli aby som bol pilotom i napriek tomu, ze som zacal lietat uz v 1946, skoro po vojne. Vstupil som do plachtarskeho odboru aeroklubu Bratislava, dosiahol som podmienku stupna "C" a tiez jednu podmienku na strieborne "C". Popri plachteni, zacal som parasutisticky vycvik a vykonal 6 zoskokov. Mal som teda prijatelnu kvalifikaciu k vojenskemu pilotnemu vycviku.”

Vladimir spomina na podmienky u Ceskoslovenskeho letectva, kratko po 2. svetovej vojne:

“Zacinali sme s tym co zostalo po prechode fronty, teda koristny material, klzaky, vetrone a cvicne lietadla pozivane nemcami. V tych rokoch, ked sme zacinali skakat padakmi, boli to pouzite vojenske kamuflazove padaky v ktorych si mysi urobili hniezda. Museli sme napred "zaflakovat" diery, nez sme ich mohli pouzit k zoskokom z americkeho DC-3. Lietadla Dakota a Piper Cub, ktore nam boli darovane nadaciou UNRRA, (United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration) bola velka pomoc v dobe nudze! Tieto mali este zelene bojove zafarbenie. Letecky vycvik u vojenskeho letectva i napriek viacerym havariam starsich lietadiel prebiehal prudkym tempom. Letecka osnova v 48-mom roku bola anglicka z Royal Air Force. Nasi instruktori boli zo zapadneho i z vychodneho frontu s bohatymi bojovymi skusenostami.”

For the full translation of Vladimir's profile, visit http://www.ncsml.org/Oral-History/Chicago/20110322/99/Krman-Vladimir.aspx.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Recording Voices and Documenting Memories in New York City, November 2011

The National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library’s oral history project is coming to New York City. Over the next two years, the NCSML will record the oral histories of 50 Czech & Slovak Cold War-era émigrés, and 25 newer immigrants from the Czech and Slovak Republics who settled in New York after 1989.

The NCSML made a first recording trip to New York City this November. As ever, watch our website for biographical profiles and video clips over the weeks to come. Here though, is a preview of some of the materials we gathered:


Ivana Edwards in her home in New York City, November 2011

Ivana Edwards left Czechoslovakia with her family in 1948. She settled first in Israel and then Canada before coming to the United States to study. This is a snapshot from her first visit back to Prague in the 1960s. Ivana says that she had her hair done specially for the occasion, which is evidenced by this photo:


A well-coiffed Ivana Edwards with her grandmother in Prague

Gabriel Levicky came to New York City from Bratislava in 1979. This was the second time he had left Czechoslovakia, having emigrated to Israel following the Warsaw Pact invasion in 1968 (he then decided to return to Czechoslovakia as part of an amnesty one year later).


Gabriel Levicky, New York City, 2011

Today, Gabriel works as a translator, tour guide and cartoonist. A book of his work, entitled Pardon Me, Which Way to Heaven or Hell; Whatever? was published by the New York Chapter of the Czechoslovak Society of Arts and Sciences (SVU) in 2010.


Cartoon drawn by Gabriel Levicky in Prague, 1990

Tomas Hadl arrived in the United States more than a decade after the Velvet Revolution in 1989. He lived first in Washington, D.C., where he worked as a life-guard, before moving to New York City and starting out as a waiter. Today, he is the manager of the Bohemian Benevolent and Literary Association (BBLA), which is based in New York’s Bohemian National Hall.


Tomas Hadl at the Bohemian National Hall, New York City, 2011

Watch our web pages for excerpts from these interviews (and more) over the weeks to come.

Monday, August 29, 2011

The case for oral history, as made by Leo Tolstoy


Monica Rokus and friends at school in Košice, 1967

Two things that I have been reading recently have caught my eye and shaped the way I think about some of the materials being gathered as part of Recording Voices & Documenting Memories. The first is an extract from Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. On the capture of Moscow by Napoleonic troops in 1812 Tolstoy writes:

“The stories and descriptions of that time all speak without exception of self-sacrifice… despair, grief and heroism… In reality, it was not like that. It seems so to us only because all we see in the past is the general historical interest of the time, and we do not see all those personal, human interests that the people of that time had. And yet in reality the personal interests of the day are so much more significant than the general interests that as a result the general interests are never felt (or even noticed at all). The majority of the people of that time paid no attention to the general course of things, but were guided only by the personal interests of the day. And those people were the most useful figures of that time.”

Of course Tolstoy is not discussing oral histories and the benefits of interviewing eyewitnesses in this paragraph, but the extract does remind me of another quotation, which is about oral histories in particular, and which conveys something rather similar. In an article entitled Talking about War, historian Edward Coffman writes:

“Meeting and talking with [interviewees] provides a human touch and a richness that one cannot get from paper documents and, in many instances, one can get information that is not available elsewhere.”

One of my favorite clips from all of the oral histories gathered to date is that of Melania Rakytiak recalling the Warsaw Pact invasion as she experienced it in Bratislava in August 1968. I think I find it so interesting because she contrasts information about “the general course of things” – panic buying, queues in shops, food shortages and the requirement of a birth certificate to buy baby milk – with her own “personal interests” throughout the invasion:



In the paragraph I cited above, Leo Tolstoy was not talking about oral history (which was not even a concept until after his death). But he does express one of the strengths of oral history particularly well. It seems to me that speaking to people who witnessed historic events in Czechoslovakia and the United States during the 20th century provides information on both the “general course of things” and “the personal interests of the day.”

-posted by Rosie Johnston