Out of the Nazi's shadow, into the light
MCC professor describes the Holocaust's effect on her family
BY KATHY CHANG
Staff Writer

Blima Weisstuch

EDISON - When Shirley Wachtel was growing up, the big bad wolf was Adolf Hitler and the fairy godmother was Frau Gizella.

Wachtel's parents, Blima and Chiel, were two of the 100,000 Holocaust survivors who came to the United States after the war.

Wachtel, 54, decided to write a memoir of Blima Weisstuch's life for her doctoral dissertation at Drew University in the spring of 1999.

The first part of her dissertation, "The Story of Blima: A Holocaust Survivor" by Townsend Press, was published in May 2005. It is written in her mother's voice.

Wachtel eventually hopes to get her entire dissertation published, which she named "My Mother's Shoes."

The second part of the dissertation deals with Wachtel's experiences as a child of Holocaust survivors. It alternates between her voice and her mother's.

"I had tremendous help from my Aunt Rucsia, who was married to my mother's brother, Victor," said Wachtel. "Without her help, this novel would not have been written."

COURTESY OF SHIRLEY WACHTEL Shirley Wachtel's parents, Blima and Chiel, on their engagement day. Wachtel's book, "The Story of Blima: A Holocaust Survivor," was published in May 2005. At left: Weisstuch (r) is with her sisters and nieces.

And chances are, it wouldn't have been written if Gizella had not entered Weisstuch's life when she was sent to Grunsberg, a forced labor camp in Poland in 1941.

Gizella was one of the German soldiers who would call Weisstuch a "dirty Jew, sick cow," but would give Weisstuch extra rations of thick rye bread every week, which ultimately saved her life.

Growing up, Wachtel and her brother heard stories about Gizella, her mother's savior.

"My mother would speak often about Gizella," said Wachtel. "But after the war, she wasn't able to find Gizella. There were rumors that she was shot and killed because the SS found out she was helping a Jew."

Weisstuch considered Gizella an angel, a second mother.

"Once, I ask her why she has chosen to help me and not the others," said Weisstuch in the book. "She smiles and shakes her head. It is my small stature, a will that she can see behind my eyes."

Gizella confided to Weisstuch that she was a Catholic and abhorred the irrational hatred of Jews.

"Right now, I am her humanity," said Weisstuch.

After three years in Grunsberg-Gross-Rosen, Weisstuch was sent to the concentration camp Bergen-Belsen in January 1945.

"There she finds her sister-in-law Ruscia and Ruscia's sister, Sophie. That's where Blima learns the fate of her parents, sisters and twin brother. They have all perished."

On April 15, 1945, the British liberated Bergen-Belsen.

Wachtel was fortunate to see photographs of her mother's family, because her mother hid them in her clothing during the war.

Her father, Chiel, was not so lucky. When he returned to his family's old apartment after the war, the only photograph he found was of himself.

"Weeks before my mother was taken, she had heard that the young people were being abducted from the streets," said Wachtel in her dissertation.

"She grabbed the store of family photos, which had been in her keeping, and placed them each morning beneath the bindings across her chest, close to her heart. Just in case."

Wachtel takes the reader through her mother's journey before, during and after the war.

"My mother loved shoes," said Wachtel. "And it has passed down to me. The funny thing is that my mother's father had owned a shoe store."

Days before Weisstuch was taken off the street by the Gestapo in her hometown, Dombrowe, Poland, she was looking for her blue silk shoes with the little white bow and skinny heels that were given to her by her father.

"She thought it best to worry about the shoes instead of the Nazis in the streets," said Wachtel in her book.

Sometime between the time the Gestapo took her and the time she entered the Grunsberg labor camp in Poland, Weisstuch lost her shoes. She was given wooden soles with pieces of canvas stretched across, which were two sizes too big.

Weisstuch survived the war and the camp, along with her two brothers, Kalman and Victor. Wachtel's father was the lone survivor in his family.

"My father was put on the line for death," said Wachtel. "He ran to the other side and was lucky because no one saw him."

The couple moved to Brooklyn, N.Y., and had two children, Shirley and Jack, and there are now five grandsons.

Wachtel tells about her own life as a child of a Holocaust survivor in the second portion of her dissertation.

"We always knew we were different, special," said Wachtel. "My parents were overprotective, which was explainable because my mother was taken off the street right in front of her mother."

Her parents considered hobbies, extracurricular activities like ballet and baseball, sports, museum visits, and dinners out as frivolous, said Wachtel.

"To be alive was to sleep and eat," said Wachtel in her book. "And sometimes go

to Coney Island. These were our lessons."

Her parents always coveted the basics. There was always plenty of food. Their closets were filled with layers of warm clothing and sturdy shoes, said Wachtel.

Meals were also out of the ordinary.

"The only salad I had ever heard of was coleslaw," she said. "Usually, it was just a plate of boiled chicken or top of the rib, some fried potatoes, and Mott's Applesauce for dessert," said Wachtel in her book. "On Friday nights, we would have a treat of my mother's chicken soup with our meal."

Food was never thrown away.

"When my brother and I refused to eat the crust of our rye bread, my mother would cut it away and wrap it up to be eaten later," said Wachtel in her book. "Even the tiniest slices of chicken were packaged in wax paper and put into the refrigerator."

Wachtel said her mother would remind them that when she was in the forest, she would eat leaves.

"The closest to eating out was a trip to my aunt's house," she said. "We stayed together because there were so few of us."

Wachtel and her family frequently moved as her father went from business to business during her childhood.

"When I was very young, I didn't realize that people could live in one place all their lives," she said. "Our family lacked a sense of stability."

However, one thing that was stable was her parents' insistence that she and her brother, Jack, excel in school.

And they did. Wachtel is an English professor at Middlesex County College and has written several books. Her brother is a judge in New York City.

Wachtel said she had a tough time telling her parents when things went wrong.

"We revealed only the positives," she said. "My brother had gotten into a bad bicycle accident. He had a seizure and was semicomatose. I was unable to tell my parents the full truth about why they hadn't heard from him."

When Wachtel's father became sick and died at 73, she saw for the first time how strong her mother was, like iron.

"She was a very emotional person, she would cry watching the TV show 'ER' because she thought it was real," said Wachtel. "When she would hear of a stranger's illness or misfortune, she would sob for hours."

"Yet, she was a woman of incredible strength. Strength enough to survive the Holocaust and the horrors of Grunsberg and Bergen-Belsen. Strength to build a new life after the loss of her beloved parents, her sisters and her brother. Strength to come to a new land supported by her older brother, Victor, whom she looked up to and cherished with all her heart, and her younger brother Karl, who was a constant comfort to her, and whom she adored."

When Wachtel's mother was 80, she was contacted by the Shoah Foundation, launched in 1994 by Steven Spielberg. The foundation wanted to compile a living record of the experiences of survivors of the Holocaust.

"I watched her give her story," she said.

Wachtel's mother succumbed to Alzheimer's disease in April 1999.

"My mother has taught me to go on. I used to think that when my mother died, my life would end too," said Wachtel. "Miraculously, it hasn't. I think that is because of the strength that she gave me, an 'iron,' which has kept me working and raising a family and seen me through accident, illness and loss."