A tourist’s lonely, emotional Auschwitz encounter

By David Amos

SAN DIEGO–In the last few days, we have been informed by the media, magazines, newspapers, radio and television, of the 70^th anniversary of the liberation of the concentration camp Auschwitz. CNN presented a fine documentary, and our local paper gave extensive coverage to individuals or couples who are still with us, who survived Auschwitz and Birkenau, and lived to tell us their stories.

Here is my story. No, it happened long after the horrors of the Holocaust, but the memories are vivid and detailed in my mind nevertheless.

In June of 1990, I conducted seven different commercial compact discs of orchestral music. One of these recordings was scheduled for me by the record company with the Polish Radio National Symphony Orchestra in Katowice, Poland. Katowice is an industrial city in Southern Poland. I had to land in Krakow, and take a taxi, which takes about a half hour. Auschwitz is somewhere between these two locations. I had already decided that Auschwitz was not going to be a destination. After all, there I was, facing a large, important orchestra, where I needed to focus all my artistic and technical abilities to be at my best. Part of being a conductor is the spirit and energy which has to be conveyed to the orchestral musicians for the desired final results. It involved being a bit of an artistic cheerleader to “inspire the troops”, and I felt that a visit to a concentration camp might squash my effectiveness.

At least, that is what I said before the trip. Life had other plans for me.

I landed in Krakow, and hired a taxi to take me to Katowice. The driver, an energetic fellow called Boris was quite talkative for someone whose English was severely limited. He told me of the multitude of passengers he delivered to various nearby destinations, and the countries from which they came. I reacted to one that he mentioned. “Israel? How many Israelis have you met.” Many, he said. “I can even speak a few words in Hebrew which I learned, Shalom, Boker Tov, Toda, and a few others”. Then, he turned to me and said, “Are you Jewish?”, to which I replied emphatically, yes. He asked if I were going to visit Auschwitz, to which I replied no.

Then, he said his journey-changing sentence: “As a Jew, it is your obligation to visit Auschwitz, no matter the circumstances. I am Catholic, and I have been there five times. It made me sick five times. You have to tell everybody what you saw there”

I fell trapped by the Yiddish word beshert. He wanted to know when my obligations with the orchestra would finish, and when was my flight out from Krakow. I explained that it would be the following Sunday, and my departure time;  he arranged to pick me up from the hotel at 9:00 a.m. and “I will take you to Auschwitz!”

Sure enough, the following Sunday after my work with the orchestra, there he was ready to take me there. In 15 minutes we arrived at the camp, which is now called a “museum.” It was early Sunday morning, and I was literally the only visitor there. He told the entrance guard that I was a special guest of the government, and that I should be shown “the works.” I asked him to translate for me that I really did not want to watch the documentary filmed by the liberating Russian Army, which was full of gory, graphic footage no one should have to see. He conveyed my message, but by mistranslating, in the reverse. It came out as “Our guest, before the tour, has to see the film”.

A few minutes later, a man with the last name Maczka, came to me and introduced himself as my personal guide. He surprised me by asking if I wanted the tour in English or Hebrew. I chose the former and asked him who he was. He turned out to be an official guide, Polish, Catholic, but a member of the “Polish-Jewish Friendship Committee.”  He explained that “We have done so much damage to the Jewish people that many of us want to make up for whatever we can salvage”.

The next two hours and a half are a painful blur. I saw the liberation film, all by myself, then we walked by the execution wall, we stepped into the gas chambers and the crematoriums, the museum displays of mountains of shoes, glasses, suitcases and other personal objects. I was played a recording of El Mole Rachamim. I walked through the halls and saw the thousands and thousands of pictures of the victims, taken a few minutes before they were murdered. I saw behind glass the experimental laboratories where children and adults were mercilessly tortured.

I could not gather the energy to take pictures. It was simply too painful for that. The capper was something that was cute, calm and peaceful, but a monstrosity in the middle of this madness. It was the home of the German administrator, a quaint two story chalet, with a two foot tall picket fence, and of all things, a swing set for his children. This was within sight, maybe 100 yards from the crematoria! I am sure that the administrator sat during evenings in his living room, with his wife, wine, and fellow Nazi officers, discussing the virtues of Schiller, Goethe, Beethoven and Schubert. The irony of these contrasts will always stay with me.

Then, we were off to Birkenau, only a five minute drive. The watchtower, railroad tracks, so-called dormitories and buildings were still up. It was not as extensive as Auschwitz, but many, many thousands also died there.

After this was done, my driver Boris took me to another location, a friendly farm with smiling people, where we had hot tea. As he said it, ”Your parting impression of Poland should be something pleasant, not the horrors you just witnessed.”

My spirits and energy level were at an all-time low as I boarded the plane to London. I had some very important sessions with the London Symphony Orchestra the next day, and I feared that I might not be at my best after that difficult Sunday. Luckily, I recovered and was OK, but it took all my efforts to focus on the tasks at hand and postpone for another week the impact of my Polish experience.

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Amos is the conductor of the Tifereth Israel Community Orchestra.  Your comment may be posted in the space below or sent to david.amos@sdjewishworld.com