For weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out which boat Opapa took to escape Europe in 1939. As I described in a previous post, Opapa did not have a visa for either the US or Mexico when he left Hungary, nor did he have a ticket on an oceanliner to get across the Atlantic. His father, Árpád, mentioned three different oceanliners in his letters, but there was so much uncertainty that I haven’t been sure which boat Opapa actually ended up taking.
Here are the three different options, based on the 1939 letters:
The SS Normandie, a French oceanliner, which sailed regularly from Le Havre to New York City.
The SS Flandre, also a French oceanliner, which sailed regularly from Saint-Nazaire to Cuba and Mexico.
The SS Iberia, a German oceanliner owned by HAPAG (Hamburg-America Line), which sailed from Cherbourg to Cuba and Mexico.
The ideal plan would have been to take The Normandie. It sailed from Le Havre to New York City on May 10, 1939. This was the plan that Laci endorsed, and he sent funds to the French line for Opapa to use in April 1939. The ship itself was gorgeous, furnished with Art Déco designs by Pierre Patout.
Unfortunately, boarding the Normandie required a US Visa, and that was virtually impossible to get in spring 1939. So the Normandie was out of the running.
That left two different options: the SS Iberia, which was owned by the German company Hapag (Hamburg America line), and the Flandre, a French oceanliner. Both would sail to Cuba and Mexico, rather than the United States. The plan was for my grandfather to get a US visa once he arrived in Mexico.
Árpád seemed to think that the SS Iberia was the best option, despite the fact that it was owned by a German company. In his April 9, 1939 letter to Laci, he explained:
Therefore, there is no other solution than the already mentioned Hapag ship. It is the ship called Iberia, which leaves from Cherbourg on April 30.
Árpád Gerbner to Laslo Benedek, April 9, 1939
Árpád had paid the deposit for the Hapag ticket, and planned to purchase the full ticket on April 15. But there were still risks involved: Opapa did not yet have a visa for Mexico, and he would need one in order to board the Iberia on April 30. Moreover, since the Iberia was a German ship, there was a concern that Jewish passengers might not be safe. Árpád alluded to this in his letter, but he reasoned that since Hapag was an “international business,” its’ “interest” was “to provide a fair service for its clients.”
Just three days later, however, Árpád wrote another letter — this one to Opapa — informing him that Székely István, a prominent Hungarian film director who had moved to California in 1938, had “transferred 232 dollars from Grunard to French Line in Pest onto your name.” Székely, I presume, must have been a friend of Laci’s, who was also in the film industry in California. Moreover, $232 was not a small sum: it’s the equivalent of about $5,000 in today’s dollars.
Despite the promise of Székely’s funds, Árpád was still nervous, and he planned to buy the Hapag ticket on April 15th if Székely’s money (for the French line) had not arrived by then.
Indeed, Árpád did buy the Hapag ticket on April 15th. The French line, he had learned, would not accept Hungarian Pengős, and the $232 from Székely had not yet arrived. So Árpád sent a voucher for the Hapag ticket to Opapa, telling him to visit the Hapag offices in Paris at Société Maritime Universelle 12 Rue Auber to get the ticket itself.
So based on the letters in April 1939, it seemed like Opapa would be taking the SS Iberia on the German oceanliner Hapag. The ticket was paid for; all he needed to do was secure his Mexican visa in Paris before boarding.
And yet, this is not what happened. I know this because of two pieces of evidence:
On May 7, 1939, Opapa’s aunt (I think), Ilonka, wrote a postcard saying, “I can imagine what a joy it can be being in Paris, [but] I am very troubled knowing that you have to stay there for so long.” The SS Iberia, we know from Árpád’s letter, departed on April 30, so because Ilonka’s letter was dated May 7, we can surmise that Opapa was not able to board the Iberia.
In the summer and fall of 1939, Árpád’s letters were focused on trying to get a refund from Hapag for the SS Iberia. He eventually hired a lawyer, but only ended up getting a portion of the fee returned. The entire ordeal caused a lot of drama in the Gerbner family.
So, while I have no explicit evidence that Opapa took the SS Flandre, I am 99% sure that he did.
Here is what I think happened:
When Opapa arrived in Paris, he had a great deal of trouble getting a visa for Mexico. He had still not gotten a visa by April 30, so he could not board the SS Iberia.
The $232 from Székely István did not arrive in time (or was not actually sent?), and Opapa had no money. So he borrowed $232 from Ethel Troper to buy a ticket for the Flandre. That is the equivalent of about $5,000 in 2023. The only tickets available were first class (!), so he had to buy a first class ticket.
Opapa eventually managed to get a visa for Mexico, though I’m not sure how.
He boarded the SS Flandre on May 16, 1939, heading for Cuba and then Vera Cruz, Mexico.
It had been incredibly difficult journey, but Opapa was — thankfully — on his way out of Europe. And yet, his troubles were far from over.
Here is the next mystery, which I’ll cover in my next post: according to this article from the Minneapolis Star on June 1, 1939, “104 Jewish refugees arrived at Vera Cruz, Mexico, aboard the French liner Flandre. They were not permitted to land.”
How was Opapa — one of many Jewish refugees who had boarded the SS Flandre — able to disembark, when so many were turned away?
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Nuts to crack:
How did Opapa actually manage to get a visa to Mexico when he was in Paris?
Why wouldn’t the French oceanliner company accept Hungarian Pengős? Was this due to Hungary’s alliance with Germany in 1939? This is what Árpád wrote in his April 15, 1939 letter:
However, despite this, French Line still insists on buying the round-trip ticket, but they did not find it acceptable to have the payment for the round-trip ticket in Pengős, because according to the latest practices, the National Bank has been refusing to fulfill such requests. (Obviously, because France and England do not owe us, while Germany and Italy do, and with the pledge paid to the German company, the National Bank's claim is reduced.) But an even more serious problem is that the beforementioned $232 (dollars) have not arrived here yet – and without money, French Line was not willing to do anything – they did not even accept that I would pay a deposit until the dollar payment arrives. So, after a lot of discussions, I finally made my mind to buy a ticket at Hapag, that – as you can see – was done today.
Amy’s cousin made a film about a relative of hers who used his legal skills to save 86 Jewish refugees on a ship that was turned away (in Baltimore, I think.). The ship was the SS Quanza and the relative was Jacob Morewitz,a local attorney. The documentary is "Nobody Wants Us". Directed by Laura Seltzer-Dune
What good sleuthing and process of elimination to figure this out. It’s like that math problem: “if a train is moving at x MPH how long would it take to get halfway to its destination.” All I was sure if was that George told us that he was in first class without any money in his pocket.
Do you you think he got into Mexico using the bankroll of the man who lent it to him-- that story he used to tell? Could you get a visa into Mexico if you had money? Or did he borrow the money on his trip to New Orleans?