The Underground Reporters (19 page)

BOOK: The Underground Reporters

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Periodically, John searched for survivors from Budejovice. He discovered that Frances Neubauer was alive, and began to correspond with her, recalling his days with Beda at the swimming hole, and the outings he had made together with other friends.

In the 1970s, John came across information that Irena Stadler was living in Prague. He wondered if she knew anything about the fate of the twenty-two issues of
Klepy
. Perhaps she knew whether Ruda had hidden them somewhere during the war.

He found Irena’s address and tried to get a message to her. Since the war, though, Czechoslovakia had been dominated by an oppressive communist regime, with new rules and regulations. Communism was a political movement meant to give citizens equal opportunity for work, education, social class, and economic standing. In reality, communism was harsh and intimidating. Any citizen in possession of suspicious documents could get in trouble. John did not want to jeopardize Irena’s safety, so he didn’t ask her about the newspapers.

In 1989, the communist regime was overthrown, and John was finally able to visit his old homeland. He made his way to Irena’s building, and climbed the stairs to her apartment. After ringing the doorbell with a trembling hand, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was sixty now, and the climb up the stairs had taken his breath away; his heart
was pounding. In fact, this whole trip was physically and emotionally draining. He had not set foot in this country since March 1948. He had changed so much. Everything had changed so much.

From top to bottom: John and his childhood friend, Zdenek Svec, the one Christian boy who played with John against the orders of the Nazis; John and the author, Kathy Kacer, standing in the central square of Budejovice; John standing in front of the school in Budejovice that he attended up until the third grade; John at the swimming hole today.

The door opened, and there she was – Irena Stadler, now sixty-six years old, a tall, graying woman, still strong and clear-eyed.

A photo of Ruda’s sister, Irena Stadler, taken many years after the war ended.

After they greeted each other, he could not hold back his question: “Do you really have them?”

“I do,” Irena assured him, her voice raspy, but firm.

“Can I see them? Please?” he asked, barely able to contain his impatience.

She nodded and moved down the narrow hallway. At the end of the hallway, she paused in front of a large closet. She opened the door, bent over, reached deep into the back of the cupboard, and pulled and tugged until she finally dragged out a worn brown suitcase. She carried the suitcase into the small living room, laid it on the floor, unlocked the latches of the suitcase with a loud click, and pulled the lid open.

John stepped forward to look inside. There it was.

Slowly he reached into the suitcase, pulled out the first bundle of papers, and read the title on the front cover – “
Klepy
#1.” Beneath this first
set of papers lay twenty-one other bundles, neatly bound and perfectly preserved. The newspapers had survived.

John hugged Irena, and together they danced a crazy little dance around her living room, clutching each other. Thereza, the housekeeper with whom Ruda had left the newspapers, had kept them safe. Irena had managed to retrieve them after the war, and she had hidden them in her closet until this moment.

Now they sat down on the living-room floor and began to leaf through the pages of
Klepy
. John felt the weight of the stories in his hands, along with the lives of their creators. There were Ruda’s editorials, the sports columns, the poems, and the beautiful drawings by Karli Hirsch. There was a photograph of John standing with one foot kicking a soccer ball. There were the stories written by his good friend, Beda, and the jokes about Rabbi Ferda and Joseph Frisch. There were pictures of Tulina, John’s first love, and his brother, Karel, and all his other friends. It was a miracle that the newspapers had survived.

John stayed for many hours in Irena’s tiny apartment, and returned several times after that. Before leaving Prague, he photocopied the entire collection of
Klepy
, and took the copies home to Toronto.

Some years later, John contacted Irena’s son, Jirka, and discussed with him the best way to save
Klepy
for the future. They wanted other children to be able to see the newspaper and learn from its history. Eventually, Irena’s children, Jirka and Hana, decided to give the entire collection of
Klepy
to the Jewish Museum in Prague, Czech Republic.

It remains on display there to this day, for the whole world to see.

Pages from editions of
Klepy
, now on display at the Jewish Museum in Prague. From top to bottom: The Tree of Love; Guess Who?; Twin brothers as a two-headed man.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Several years ago, I sat in John Freund’s apartment and listened to him talk about a newspaper that he and other young people had written during the Holocaust. He showed me copies of the paper and he asked me if I would do something with his story. And so our journey began. It has been a privilege to work with John on this book. He is a caring and gentle man, who has patiently endured my endless questions and generously shared his life with me. Thanks also to his wonderful wife, Nora, for her strength and enthusiasm.

My deepest thanks to Frances Neubauer, not only for the open and honest way in which she talked about her life and the lives of her family members, but also for her warm hospitality. I will cherish the memory of my time spent with her in California.

I am indebted to Jirka and Hana Kende for sharing their memories of their parents, Irena and Viktor, and their uncle, Ruda. They filled in the missing pieces of this story and helped ensure its accuracy.

I am grateful, as always, to Margie Wolfe of Second Story Press, for
her enthusiasm and passion, and for her continued support of my writing. Thanks also to Laura McCurdy, Corina Eberle, and Peter Ross for their creativity and hard work in bringing this book together.

The author, Kathy Kacer, and Frances Neubauer, standing in front of Frances’ home in California.

It is always a privilege to work with Sarah Swartz through the editorial process. Sarah is a wonderful adviser and a dedicated and diligent editor. Thanks also to Gena Gorrell for her final, thorough review of the manuscript.

I am grateful to the Jewish Museum in Prague, Czech Republic for providing photographs of
Klepy
, and to Patricia Tosnerova for her historical input. Every time I feel overwhelmed with the writing, I am able to turn to my family for love and support. They remind me that this is all part of the process, and they calm and reassure me in ways that only family can. My love and appreciation go to my husband, Ian Epstein, and my children, Gabi and Jake.