CHAPTER 1

Pastoral Hadad

Looking back today, I cannot imagine a happier childhood than growingup in our small agricultural community in remote northern Transylvania.I lived there until age fourteen with my parents Morice and Ida Frenkeland my brother, Gabriel. Hadad was a farming town of approximately twothousand people located in the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains.To most Americans, Transylvania conjures up gothic Hollywood tales ofCount Dracula and vampires. To me, it provided the familiar comfortsand endless fascination of rural farm life—horse-drawn carts, ancient dirtroads, Protestant church choirs, colorful Gypsy fiddlers, Tuesday producemarkets, open-sleigh rides, and the weekly town crier.

Transylvania is the Latin word for the region, meaning "land beyondthe forest"—those great forests that cover the Carpathian Mountains. TheCarpathiansprovideTransylvania'shugenaturalborderonthenorth,east,andsouth, leaving it open on the west to the Great Hungarian Plain. Transylvaniaconsists of rolling hills, river valleys, and fertile plains, interrupted only bythe Bihar Mountains near its center, just west of its historic capital city,Kolozsvar (now called Cluj-Napoca). Hadad lies near the very northern tipof Transylvania on a virtual straight line between the border city of Szatmar(Satu Mare), about twenty-five miles to the north, and the capital city ofKolozsvar, about fifty miles to the south (see Map 2).

Called "Hodod" by the Romanians and "Kriegsdorf" by the Germans,Hadad, as the Hungarians called it, was settled in the latter half of theeighteenth century by a Hungarian (or Magyar) nobleman named Wesselenyi,along with Lutherans from southern Germany. Wesselenyi's descendant,Count Banfi, owned a magnificent castle situated on the western side oftown at the highest point in Hadad, about half a mile above the valley below.Count Banfi also owned most of the land in our part of Transylvania, andeverything on it. This included all the animals (pigs, cattle, sheep, chickens,and horses), all the crops (fields of grains, fruit orchards, and a vineyard), allthe forests, and the flour mill. What did not belong to Count Banfi belongedto Count Degenfeld, an absentee German landlord. Degenfeld Castle, locatedat the southern end of town, lay relatively dormant and largely unoccupied,except for the estate manager plus the caretaker and his family.

Hadad covered a mile-wide stretch atop a gentle east-west hill andextended south about two miles down into a small valley with sprawlingfields. The weather was ever-changing, and everyone's daily preoccupation.In summer, the weather was generally pleasant, especially for a youngsterlike me. But in winter, a brisk Siberian wind blew across the Carpathiansinto Transylvania, bringing biting cold winds and heavy snowfalls thatdrove everyone indoors. We huddled before the fireplace, well suppliedwith stacked wood, which was freely available and easy pickings in thenearby forests—at least before the first blizzard arrived. Rarely did peopleventure out in deep snow, except to feed the barn animals or to purchaseflour and cooking oil from the mill.

The dramatic seasonal changes in Transylvanian weather captivatedme. In fall, the leaves formed such a thick ground cushion that I couldpainlessly slide or roll down the long, steep embankments on the Banfiestate. When the weather turned cold, my leather shoes froze, clicked, andsqueaked—clear signals to get indoors before my feet became frostbitten.The winter snowfall was often so heavy that the roads were impassableeven for horse-drawn sleighs. When severe weather forced me inside, Iplayed chess, arranged my stamp collection, and peered through Father'smedical books to read about various diseases.

Throughout most of the winter, Hadad was perfect for sledding.My friends and I whisked down the main road through the town centerand then turned down one of the two side streets, speeding toward thevalley below. We were unconcerned about traffic, since there were noautomobiles and few sleighs. Trees posed the only real danger. Careeningthrough orchard trees, some of my friends lost teeth on impact with theubiquitous tree trunks. My sledding injury occurred near the entranceto my elementary school. To make it all the way to the school entrance,I had to lie flat on the sled in order to pass under a railing in front of theschool. One time I forgot to duck and hit the railing so hard I was knockedunconscious. To this day, I still bear a slight dent on the top of my head.

From spring through fall, we had almost daily rain showers, whichturned the town's unpaved streets to mud. Walking in the slippery mudwas treacherous, since the roads were uneven, strewn with rocks, andlined on either side by shallow ditches. If the weather suddenly turnedcold, animal footprints froze in the mud, which made the roads moreuneven and dangerous. Most people went around town on foot, so shoesbecame mud-caked from the moment they hit the ground. Removing thatmud before walking into your house was a necessary ritual. My practicewas to scrape my shoes using a small pocketknife, and then to clean theknife with wood shavings.

Hadad's main road (then as now) enters town from the northwestnear Banfi Castle at the top of the hill. It descends south to DegenfeldCastle, turns east through the town center, and continues east out oftown about seven miles to Szilagy Cseh (Cehu Silvaniei), which has thenearest train station. As you head east along the main road from BanfiCastle toward the town center, you pass the synagogue, the pharmacy, themarket square, Degenfeld Castle, four general stores, one of Hadad's twotaverns, the blacksmith shop, the town hall, the post office, two schools,and the Protestant Reformed (Calvinist) Church (see Map 3). Two smallerroads head south off the main road and down into the valley below thetown. At the west end of the main road (back toward Banfi Castle) are theflour mill and the monument to unknown soldiers who died in World WarI. Most of these places factor prominently in my story.

The Hadad I remember seemed to exist in a time warp, cut off fromthe rest of the world and unchanged for hundreds of years. There was noelectricity, no indoor plumbing or running water, no telephone, and nonewspaper. I cannot recall ever seeing a new house being built or hearingof anyone moving into or out of town. People went everywhere on foot,crossing paths daily with other townsfolk—in the fields, orchards, andstreets; inside the stores, schools, barns, and churches; at the two farmers'markets and the post office; and less often at funerals. As they passed by,people greeted one another with "Buna ziua" or "Jo napot" ("Good day"in Romanian and Hungarian, respectively). Gossip exchanged duringchance meetings was—other than the town crier—the major source ofinformation.

Even in the best of weather, Hadad's roads had little traffic. Peoplewalked or drove horse- or cattle-drawn carts to the mill, the market, or thefields. On a rare day, you might see a stray dog searching for food. Casualstrollers were the exception; everyone walked with a purpose, headingsomewhere. Sundays and holidays, however, were special. On these days,young girls went arm-in-arm dressed in colorful Hungarian costumes, andpeasants emerged in native attire all headed to the town square. Therethey danced to a Gypsy band composed of violins, flutes, clarinets, andsolo accordion. The merriment was uplifting.

The only traffic congestion occurred at sunset during spring andsummer when herds of cattle, sheep, and pigs returned home frompasture right through the center of the town. At the edge of town, usinga special signal understood only by his dogs, the shepherd ordered hisdogs away from the front of the pack. This triggered a stampede downthe main street through the town center, forcing pedestrians to leap asideto safety. Each animal let out a sound as it scrambled for an unobstructedpath. The pigs ran frantically ahead of the outnumbered, plodding cattle,each bent on securing its place at the awaiting trough of food. Caught inthis organized chaos, pedestrians hugged the roadside until the last animalhad passed.

In the 1940s, Hadad's ethnic and religious makeup was typical ofsmall towns in northern Transylvania. It was predominantly Hungarian,with many Romanians, some Germans or Swabians (those Germans whopopulated the area during the eighteenth century), and still fewer Jewsand Gypsies. Hadad had a variety of religions to match: Calvinist, Unitarian,Roman Catholic, Lutheran, and Jewish. Of Hadad's two thousand or soresidents, fewer than a hundred were Jews. On Friday evenings, Saturdaymornings, and holy days, the rabbi—wearing his usual long black coat andlarge fur hat and accompanied by his family—led a solemn procession fromhis home down the length of the main street to the synagogue, where heheld services. Heading west through town, the procession passed directlyin front of our home.

The local population consisted mostly of peasants who lived in smallhouses throughout town. Many peasants owned tiny plots of land, and afew had some cows and pigs, several chickens, possibly some geese, andin rare cases a horse. Almost everyone worked for the Banfi estate anddepended on the land for his livelihood. Farm life was strenuous. Everyjob was manual, since farmers had no heavy equipment and used horsesand cattle for plowing and hauling. I remember one man who developeda bad back and became a cripple from repeatedly loading and unloadingheavy bags of grain. Those who did not work the land were tradesmenwhose businesses depended on the peasants. Many of Hadad's tradesmenwere Jewish.

Townspeople spent most of their time working in the fields or in theirshops. Otherwise they remained at home. There was not much else to do.Department-store shopping and public entertainment, as we know themtoday, were nonexistent. And there were few social functions besideschurch on Sundays and holy days and synagogue on Friday evenings andSaturdays. Hadad had no theater, bookstore, or library—we borrowed ourbooks from neighbors or friends. Even the schools and churches had veryfew textbooks and religious books. We had to read books hurriedly on thepremises if we were going to read them at all. Some people frequentedone of the two taverns in town, which served wine from wooden barrelsand offered Gypsy music. The patrons sipped wine to the sound of violins,basses, cymbals, and the dulcimer (cimbalom in Hungarian). An open-airbowling alley located behind the main tavern featured competitivebowling on market days in summer. Despite its limited amenities, however,Hadad was seldom boring to me—never in good weather.

Today, Transylvania is part of Romania and has been throughout mostof the twentieth century (see Map 1). Since the Middle Ages, however,Transylvania has generally been part of Hungary, and its long checkeredhistory deserves a brief retelling because it affected life even in remoteHadad. Transylvania's history really begins in the year 987, when theHungarian army under its commander Kolozs conquered the area andestablished Kolozsvar (the "Fort of Kolozs") as its capital. From the tenth tothe sixteenth centuries, Transylvania was part of the Hungarian Kingdom,serving as its eastern frontier against the Ottoman Turks. In 1526, theOttomans defeated the Hungarians and took control of Transylvania forthe next 150 years. In the 1690s, the Ottomans ceded Transylvania to theAustro-Hungarian Empire, which oversaw Transylvania for the next 200years. In 1867, Transylvania became reunited with Hungary, and they bothremained part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire until the end of World WarI. Then Transylvanian history becomes even more confusing.

Hungary and Austria picked the wrong side in World War I, whereasRomania switched sides to the Allies in 1916, in exchange for postwarrights to Transylvania. The victorious Allies honored this agreement inthe 1920 Treaty of Trianon, awarding Transylvania to Romania. Part ofthe justification for this award was the 1910 census, which indicated thatRomanians constituted the majority of the Transylvanian population.Northern Transylvania, however, including Kolozsvar and the area aboveit (where Hadad is located), was primarily Hungarian. After Trianon,the Romanian government introduced discriminatory policies againstHungarians, banning the use of Hungarian place and street names andrequiring that schools teach only in Romanian. Consequently, in 1920,Kolozsvar was renamed Cluj, and Hadad became Hodod. This anti-Hungariandiscrimination lasted for two decades until the beginning ofWorld War II and caused a latent animosity toward Romanians among themajority Hungarian population in Hadad.

In 1940, in appreciation for Hungary's military support, the Third Reichawarded northern Transylvania to Hungary, leaving southern Transylvania(below Cluj) with Romania (see Map 2). Consequently, in 1940, Clujreverted to Kolozsvar and Hodod to Hadad, their original Hungariannames, and the official language in northern Transylvania changed backto Hungarian. Since most Hadad residents were Hungarian and virtuallyeveryone spoke Hungarian, the language change had little practical impacton most people, including my family. My parents considered themselvesof Hungarian origin; it was their native tongue and culture.

Transylvania remained divided between north and south from 1940until late 1944, when the Russian army entered northern Transylvania.The Russians arrived several months after the Nazis had removed all ofthe Jewish people from the north, including my family. Toward the endof World War II, Romania again switched sides to the Allies and attackedHungary. In reward for Romania's second wartime about-face, Russiareturned northern Transylvania to Romania in 1945. The postwar ParisPeace Treaty of 1947 sanctioned this return, and ever since, Transylvaniahas remained part of Romania.

The 1920 and 1940 transitions to and from Romanian sovereignty,respectively, proved difficult for the citizens of Hadad. With each regimechange, the mayor's nationality also changed, first to Romanian andthen back to Hungarian, and the residents of that governing nationalityreaped the benefits in political patronage. The 1940 power shift to theHungarians spawned economic and political vendettas and score-settlingamong neighbors for actions taken during the prior two decades underRomanian rule. The historic animosity between the Hungarians andRomanians divided practically everyone in town. Though barely elevenyears old in August 1940, I could feel the tension in Hadad when northernTransylvania transitioned back to Hungarian rule, even though I did notfully understand the politics.

The minority Germans, Jews, and Gypsies remained mostly spectatorsto this ethnic strife, but they could not wholly escape the fallout sincethey lived in its midst. The Germans, who constituted about 30 percentof the population, tended to live in the lower southern part of Hadad nearthe Lutheran Church. The Jews concentrated in the upper eastern partalong the main street not far from the synagogue. The Gypsies lived intents on the southern edge of town. The Hungarians and Romanians feltsuperior to both the Jews and Gypsies because the latter two had neithera separate country or homeland nor any obvious political or institutionaldefenders. The Jews posed no threat to participants in the running ethnicfeud, however, since they were mostly tradesmen—shoemakers, tailors,tavern keepers, shopkeepers, and teachers—with limited incomes and nopolitical aspirations.

Growing up in Hadad, I saw no great differences or distinctions amongthe Hungarians, Romanians, Germans, Jews, and Gypsies, and my religionnever seemed to affect my relationships with any of them. Yet even as achild,Irecognizedtheenormousclassdistinctionbetweenthevastmajorityof townspeople and the two local counts. With their impressive castlesand vast inherited wealth, the counts enjoyed a unique social status. Theylived in royal isolation, never venturing into town, and they traveled to andfrom Hadad by private carriage, which added to their mystique. No one intown ever expected to attain their status or wealth. At the opposite endof the social hierarchy were the peasants. Everyone else—professionals,clerics, and tradesmen—fell somewhere in between ... everyone, that is,except the Gypsies. They were generally considered outsiders.

Despite the ethnic and religious diversity of its population, Hadad itselfhad a remarkably similar look throughout, especially in its housing. Eachhouse had at most two rooms: a kitchen and an adjoining sleeping-livingroom. The inside floors were mud and not level, undulating throughout thehouse with slight dips and rises. Inside the kitchen was a large mud-brickstove with an iron top, fed constantly with wood. The stove functioned notonly for cooking but also for heating the entire house. Some houses also hada tall terra-cotta stove used solely for heating. On the top of the kitchen stovelay the wet clothes spread out to dry and the house cat fast asleep. Woodgathered from the forest served as the sole fuel for heating and cooking.Every season, my family bought logs from a farmer and hired an itinerantwood cutter to chop them into smaller pieces and stack them near the house.During winter, we carried armfuls inside daily to burn in the oven.