Untitled Thomas Beck Documentary
This feature-length documentary will record the wartime story of Holocaust survivor Thomas Beck.

To view a trailer, early footage, and the PDF of the proposal, please visit http://lawlor-pollock.blogspot.com/

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“Bombings, and breakdowns of communications, and breakdowns of trains. Soldiers moving left and right, coming and going, and prisoners of war – it was a mess by that time. …It was closing in. It was closing in.”

In our new documentary, 80-year-old Thomas Beck will retrace for the first time his Second-World-War odyssey, as a child-fugitive on the Hungarian / Slovakian border. As we travel, Thomas will unfold his gripping story of courage and survival, episode by episode.

“…At around four o’clock in the morning, I woke up. I woke up, because it was too quiet. There was no gunfire, there was no artillery, no bombing, no nothing. It was dead quiet. And it’s amazing that if you’re used, all the time, to some noise – and that noise ceases - it‘s the same as if an alarm clock has gone off.

So I woke up, walked to the window, and looked out the window, down into the main square.

Snow.

And in the snow – right in front of the building, right under my window – is a German tank. I said - fuck… this is – this is no good. I ran from one room to the other, trying to wake up everybody in the flat – but it’s empty. There was not a soul. They packed up – that evening was planned by the General. Because he knew – that night, they’re going to withdraw. And he left me there.

And all I’ve got is a Russian uniform…”

In the late 1930s, as the fearsome grip of fascism took hold over Europe, anti-Semitism stirred in the Hungarian towns and villages around the estate of Thomas Beck’s wealthy, socialist & secular family.

Thomas was the baby – “spoiled rotten”, in his own words - a sweet boy who doted on his young single mother. He spent his days between the home, the fields and the mill, blissfully unaware that his idyllic existence was being played out in the eye of a growing storm.

“…I had no problem at all, until the first day, when I went to school. And the school – I was the only Jew. In Ersekujvar – in the village. And they beat – the kids beat the shit out of me, the first day. When I got to school. And the reason they gave, was that I’d killed Jesus Christ. And I should be punished for that! [Chuckles.] Second, I’m a Jew, and therefore I should go back to Palestine. So, first day, I went home crying, and I said to my grandfather – “who is Jesus Christ? Did I kill him?”

“…And I started to go to high school and that was about the same time when they started to have to wear the Yellow Stars and Yellow armbands. And they segregated us – I remember in sports sessions, if a soccer team had to be made up, it was the Jews against the Christians. And of course, we were maybe 20 Jews in the whole school against 200 Christians - they always fielded a better team than we could! That wasn’t so bad. So, okay, we got beaten 32 – nil or something. But when the boxing sessions came – always a small Jew, with big boxing gloves, against a big non-Jew, and they beat the shit out of us, all the time. We learned some good strategies – that as soon as we got into the boxing ring, they took the first punch – duck it, lie down, and you were out! Knockout!”

In 1941, his grandfather was arrested, tortured and stripped of his land, for smuggling Slovakian Jews to safety after they’d crossed the border.

“…So, what started to happen, was that young guys – like you, or even younger, and girls, they started to flee into Hungary. And an easy way to flee was just to cross the river. And it started to become an occurrence that three, four o’clock in the morning, someone is knocking on the window. And there is some young guy or girl shivering there after swimming across the river Vah. And my grandfather took them in, dried them up, fed them, gave them money, and next morning before sunrise, he put them in the car and took them to Sered. To the railway station so that they can melt into the crowd…

…My grandfather became known, by the community on the other side, that “Ah! Here is a good soul. If you get there and land there, they will help you to get to freedom”.

But the authorities discovered it, somehow...”

But this was only the start of Thomas’ nightmare. By the time of his fifteenth birthday, his mother would be in Auschwitz - and Thomas himself would be on the run in a country at war, under the murderous rule of fascists.

“…That was one of the hardest parts. Because I adored my mother. I really – she was – adored is the right word. Not loved. Adored. I was the man of the house. She was my daughter, she wasn’t my mother. And I was the man looking after her. And suddenly she’s taken away. And she – I was worried about her more than about myself. But – then I got word from outside, that there’s this plan…”

In the dead of night, Thomas escaped a youth-internment camp in Budapest by scaling a human pyramid six children-high to jump the wall, where his aunt and uncle awaited him.

Young Thomas was smuggled like an illicit parcel. At first within the family - then as danger closed in, entrusted to non-Jewish friends, then mere acquaintances, until finally he was alone.

“…He went white. He could see that it was a danger for him. We came out immediately – “Let’s get outside”. We came out. He emptied his wallet, gave me all the money he had in his wallet, which was like, fifty Euros. And he said – “You can’t stay here.”

Penniless, Thomas began to live on his wits, languages and charm. His Jewish status a constant danger, he shed and assumed identities as frequently as he fled from town to town, always searching for a safe-house or a hiding place.

“My friend’s father was working within the police. And one night he came to me and said – Tom - piss off. I said – ‘why?’ He said, “I overheard that tomorrow, they’re having a round-up. They’re planning a round-up, the police, next day, specifically for Jewish persons who are hiding. So, get your stuff together, and disappear.”

“…So I got my stuff together – it wasn’t much – and the first thing I did was go to the convent. Where my stepsister was… …And I said, Cathy: you’d better piss off. She said “I’m not going anywhere”. And I said “You must. Tomorrow there is a roundup, it’s going to be a problem. Come with me – we have a chance to survive. If they catch us – that’s it. It’s the end.” And she said, no, I can’t go with you. I said – “Why not?” She said – “You look too Jewish, and they will catch us faster if we are together.”

…What can you say to that? And the poor thing – she looked more Jewish than I did, but – to her reasoning… I couldn’t persevere. What am I going to do? So I left her there. And the next day they got her. And she died in the concentration camp.”

Ever alert to opportunity and peril - lies, bargains and gambles were Thomas’ stock in trade. He passed through air raids and invasions, flight and pursuit, battle and murder.

“So… it’s almost sunrise. And I’m in the outskirts of a city - which is in heavy battle for the possession of the city. Artillery… gunfire… and suddenly – the sirens are starting. The British came to bomb. To help the Russians, who are attacking the city. And you are standing in a city that is totally empty – there is no body – no soul. Every gate is locked, because people are frightened.

And I suddenly hear the aeroplanes coming, start hearing the bombs dropping… and I am in the middle of the street, with no place to go. And I was running from one place to the other, trying to open doors, that I can get inside, and get into some shelter… nothing. So the bombs are getting closer and closer and closer…”

As he went, Thomas saved lives – and he tried, and failed, to save lives. He made the acquaintance of angels and devils - doing what he had to, to survive, return to his town and finally reclaim the family home.

“So. One night I brought him home, and he was half drunk. And he said, “…it’s no good, doing things as we’re doing them now. You’re not getting anything out of it. Tomorrow, I put you in uniform, put you on the staff, and you will be like any other soldier – you will be my assistant. I organised a medical for you”.

Now, the only medical officer in the area, was an SS German medical officer. German troop. If I had a medical with an SS officer – I’m gone.”

“Come here. Sit down at the table”. He went to his bedside table and took his pistol out and put it on the table and he said – “I’ll give you two minutes. You tell me the truth or I’ll shoot you.” So, what can I do? I said – Look. I’m just a Jewish boy trying to save his life. I’m running. Trying to escape. I’m not trying to do any harm. He said: “I had a feeling…”

Today, Thomas is a startlingly youthful 78 year-old. Each day begins with fifty push-ups and fifty sit-ups. He started taking his exercise very seriously after the war – because, as he says; “We wanted to be strong, all the Jewish guys. We wanted to be able to defend ourselves.”

Perhaps tempered by his boyhood experiences, he greets life with an unshakable magnanimity. He is a masterful storyteller - full of reflection and nuance. With plain language, he makes unimaginable scenes vivid.

“By the time we got out of that shelter, everything was – half of the city was in ruins. Everybody who was there in that cellar – one guy found his wife, and he was carrying her, crying, and the wife – no head. Completely blown away. I waited two days in Komarno, wandering from one place to the other – the whole place was in shambles, and ruins. Dead people. And I helped where I could – in exchange, I got a piece of bread or they allowed me to sleep in the air raid shelter. But after two days it was too static for me. I was worried…”

There is sorrow and horror in what he recounts. But frequently his tales become unexpectedly hilarious, or farcical. They are peppered with intelligences, memorable characters, observations and asides, expressed with tangible immediacy and striking compassion.

“I came out from under the bed, went to the Russian headquarters and said – I would like to talk to one of your officers. And after a while I spoke to one of the officers. And I said “Look – I’m a refugee Jew. A Jewish boy. And if I can be of any help – I’m now free, you can have my services.”

And they said – what can you do? And I said “Well, I can speak German, Hungarian, Slovak, and some Russian. Passable Russian.” So they said ok, wait, we’ll talk to somebody and find out. I became – within two hours – the official interpreter of the Commanding General of the Seventh Army.”

Thomas’ story begins on an all-too-familiar, and terrible, path: one that ends at the door to the gas chamber. But between his own chutzpah and a lot of luck, Thomas ultimately escaped – and as he did, crossed every social divide in his war-ravaged country.

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This documentary will be shooting in 2008. If you would like to know more, updates – including a trailer and early footage from the film – are available at http://lawlor-pollock.blogspot.com/

If you have any questions, can offer assistance or would like a copy of the proposal, please contact us, Sam: samlawlor@hotmail.com or Lindsay: lindsay.mankf@gmail.com