My Uncle Samuel, a true avant-garde spirit, had owned a convertible van by the early thirties and thus had business connections with the only local auto mechanic, Mr. Maesiar, who agreed to take me on as an apprentice. This was not as easy as it sounds. The Numerus Clausus law limited Jewish employees to 6%, practically meaning that, in order to employ me, he would first need to hire 17 non-Jews. The same quota applied to the professional handicraft school, in which I could not enroll, because I could not be registered legally as an apprentice. My boss was a Czech who had been allowed to stay and work in Hungary because of his special skills. He thumbed his nose at the racial discrimination and employed me regardless of consequences. Our private agreement had its disadvantages. Since I was not registered, I had no health insurance. Worse, since I was excluded from taking the required professional exams, I could never be recognized officially as a mechanic. However, under the given situation I was lucky to have a chance at learning any trade at all, and thus I readily accepted.

I very much enjoyed my new occupation. I had always been intrigued by the mechanism of automobiles, which were still quite a novelty in our rural region during the late 30's and early 40's. In those days, what could be more interesting and more baffling than the open engine of a dissembled car? There were only three people in the workshop: the boss, a professional mechanic and myself. The mechanic, Géza Baka, was a nice lad; he was my practical tutor. He showed me everything and explained the parts of the engines and their mechanical function. He opened a new world for me.

The boss was more sophisticated. As a youngster he had spent a few years in France, where he had acquired a socialist outlook. He acquainted me with the ideas of "class struggle" to bridge the existing "social gap" and resolve the conflict between the Haves and the Have Nots. As a boy of about 17 this gave me a new way to contemplate human society. He seemed to be an excellent craftsman, whom his clients liked and appreciated. I learned much from him, mainly in locksmithing and general workmanship.

I spent about a year and a half with these people, during which Mr. Maesiar engaged three more Jewish youngsters, under similar conditions to mine, and we were sure, as an act of defiance. He never tried to conceal his political views, nor did he restrain himself from openly declaring his utter dislike of, and contempt for, the Horthy regime and its anti-Semitic authorities. Finally, the local authorities would no longer tolerate his attitude, which was perceived as arrogance. He was forced to leave town and the whole territory of Fascist Slovakia. His farewell was a hard blow for me, and I departed from him sadly. He was a most remarkable man whom I greatly liked and appreciated. Apart from his professional know-how, I learned a great deal from him about moral and humanistic values. Regretfully, I lost track of him and never found out where he had resettled.

Father found another mechanical workshop where I could broaden my professional skill. My new boss was Mister Monduk whom father had known from childhood and they were on informal terms. In that workshop I got acquainted with agricultural machinery, that is, farm equipment. Mister Monduk had his own set of "modern" threshing equipment, which today would be considered entirely obsolete. They were big, heavy machines that still required extensive manual operation. Our whole workshop crew would be busy setting up the Monduk equipment for a farmer's threshing yard. Whenever I did not have to watch the machines, I joined the farm hands in carrying full sacks of grain, building straw stacks, or whatever else needed to be done to make the threshing operation proceed smoothly. There I learned how to shoulder a sack of 80-90 kg (up to 200 lbs) and carry it into the barn. The farmer and his crew were amazed to see a Jewish boy doing such unusual work successfully. Years later I profited considerably from the skills I acquired in those farm jobs and during my locksmith apprenticeship.

My brother Józsi (Joseph) Weisz Murdered in Auschwitz; General Secretary of the Jewish Community in Komárom

As mentioned earlier, my brothers were studying feverishly while gathering books of all kinds, even beyond their narrow curricular texts. They collected books on natural science, philosophy, languages, etc. Józsi specialized in different language versions of the Bible, from one of which I memorized my first French sentence (in archaic French), long before we started to learn this language in fifth grade. I was already living at home, when Józsi arrived unexpectedly with the surprise tidings of having won the coveted and contested position of General Secretary of the Jewish community of Komárom. The whole family was enthusiastic and happy for him, because we understood the toughness of the competition and the importance of the job. It was not only a highly respectable position but also well paid. Both parents were glowing with pride about our Józsi's extraordinary achievement. After his initial jubilation had subsided, Father became aware that that his firstborn son was going to be senior employee of a "Neolog" community, oy veh! God forbid! It was a heavy blow for him and he couldn't calm down all day. I remembered that, only a few days earlier, I had come across an old article about the campaign my great-grandfather and his son-in-law, my grandfather, had conducted against the Neology in the 19th century—those "heretics", those "renegades" from orthodox Jewry. How could father reconcile himself with the idea that one of his flesh and blood, his pride and joy, might join that community of "contemptible dissidents"?

The next day, walking in the street, he met Bernát Neuhauser, a respectable member of the local community who happened to have close family ties with the Jewish community of Komárom. Mr. Neuhauser asked him why he was so preoccupied, and Father told him about his grave problem of conscience, whereupon Neuhauser managed to calm him down by detailing the important functions of a secretary. A serious young man like Józsi, with his high education and personal charm, would be able to attract the local Jewish youth and bring them nearer to Judaism while he himself could preserve his own beliefs and practice his original faith. This argument made sense and Father gave in. He came home appeased, and peace again reigned at home.

Soon Józsi assumed his official duties and fully justified Mr. Neuhauser's prediction. I have met many people who knew Józsi in those days and who told me that he wasted no idle time, that he devoted his evenings to the young generation, that everybody spoke of him only in superlatives. He was a devoted official and performed his responsive tasks perfectly. He was acclaimed for his correctness and diligence in all community work and earned praises among the youths of his day for scholarship and profound wisdom.

After March 19, 1944, the German occupation, he was the representative of the community in its necessary contact with the German authorities, since he spoke fluent German. My brother Erno offered to help him escape to Budapest where he could help him survive. Józsi refused to abandon the community he represented and felt responsible for. He was deported with all the local Jews and was murdered in Auschwitz.

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