Ted Sears Memoir, part 7
The Marine Flasher leaves Bremerhaven in May, 1946, carrying the first group of Holocaust survivors to New York.
Introduction
In the immediate aftermath of World War Two, Britain, which still controlled Palestine, refused admission to Jewish refugees. Meanwhile, the United States, which was second to Palestine as the preferred destination of survivors, maintained severely limited immigration quotas.
The United States Congress, which has sole legal authority to set immigration rules, did nothing to liberalize existing quotas to accommodate Holocaust survivors until 1948. United States President Harry Truman had no authority to increase those quotas. But in early 1946 he signed an executive order giving preference within the existing quotas to displaced persons trying to come to America. Because of Truman's order, about 23,000 displaced persons were able enter the United States in the first two years after the war. About two thirds were Holocaust survivors.
In May, 1946, the first group of survivors to enter the United States under the Truman Directive arrived in New York aboard the Marine Flasher, a ship that had been used during the war to transport American troops across the Atlantic. Eight months later, on the same ship, Ted and Mickey Sears, born Tibor and Miklos Schwartz, made the same journey after spending more than a year in Föhrenwald.
The excerpt below, from Ted Sears' memoir, covers that trip. In March, 1947, the Sears brothers joined the lucky few. Ted was 17 years old. His bother Mickey was 18.
An anti-British demonstration at the Föhrenwald displaced persons camp in 1947. Copyright United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, courtesy of David Bayer.
Leaving Europe, by Ted Sears
While still trying to decide which of the Zionist faction was most suitable for us, my brother and I discovered that we had relatives living in New York who were searching for family members that survived the Holocaust. When they heard about us, they immediately requested that we immigrate to America and invited us to stay with them.
At first, the kind and generous offer, while very much appreciated and certainly very tempting, was declined for two reasons. First of all, going to Palestine was still our number one choice. In addition, should we choose to go to the US, it would be faster and easier for us to make it happen without their assistance. Reason being the quota requirement, a long and tedious process, a prerequisite for wanting to join family in the US, was waived for children under the age of eighteen. And a Jewish relief agency named H.I.A.S. the same organization that helped our travel from Salzburg to Germany when we were making our way back from our trip to find family in Hungary would provide everything necessary for transport to the US.
After careful consideration, my brother and I opted for America. After all, it is a faster way to leave Germany, and more importantly we have relatives living in the USA, we reasoned - two objectives that were most important thing to us at that particular time.
View of the former Von Tirpitz naval yard, used as a staging area for emigrants leaving Europe through the port of Bremerhaven. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, courtesy of Hennie Schneider.
The Marine Flasher, by Ted Sears
We boarded a ship named Marine Flasher in Bremenhaven, Germany together with some of the friends we made during our stay in Föhrenwald. Every one of us wanted out of there and every one of us was extremely ecstatic to leave that evil country where the ground was soaked with Jewish blood. We wanted to put it behind us and move on with our lives and what could possibly have been better than taking that long awaited trip to the United States.
As soon as we pulled out of the harbor all my dreams that died in Auschwitz began to resurface. I began to reach for the stars again. "The sky is the limit" a phrase our parents often used to encourage us while growing up, became once again a driving force in my life. I began to dream the impossible dream. I felt confident and was prepared to conquer all obstacles that lay ahead.
The trip to the U.S. was exciting. It was springtime and the Atlantic Ocean is a vengeful sea at that time of the year. The waves were steep and nasty. At times, they were so high that the ship almost became air-borne. The turbulence was so massive that people were thrown out of their beds, and almost everybody on the ship was sea-sick.
Boarding the Marine Flasher, 1947. From the collection of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. A video of one of the many departures of the ship from Bremen can be found at https://collections.ushmm.org/search/catalog/irn1003957
Record kept by the the American Joint Distribution Committee for the emigration of brothers Miklos and Tibor Schwartz.
This vessel carried U.S. transports to Europe during the war. It was a perfect craft to accommodate our needs, equipped with a large kitchen and a giant dining room, which had served as a mess-hall for the troops it carried. The bunk-beds were quite adequate. It was definitely not a luxury liner like the cruising ships I read about before the war, but nobody complained. Indeed, everybody was euphoric.
To wake up in the morning and smell the freshly brewed coffee emanating from the ship’s kitchen was enough to put everyone on board in a very happy mood. It didn't matter that I was never a coffee drinker, the rich aroma that filled the entire ship reminded me of home when grandmother asked me to grind the coffee beans. It smelled exactly like the coffee my grandmother used to brew. Not since I was little, before the war, did I experience this fragrance, because later on when war broke out there was no more coffee available to be purchased in the stores. One could only find "ersatz coffee" that certainly did not have a rich aroma.
Eating in the dining room was quite an experience. There was no way to anchor the dish to the dining room table, and the rocking of the ship made the trays slide all over the place. Sometimes while eating, my lunch-tray took off like a sled on a slope, traveled clear across the long table, all the way to the other end where eventually it found its way to the floor.
The food was plentiful. The choices were limited. The taste was fair. Most of the time I finished my meal completely but never returned for seconds. The orange that was served daily with the meal was the only thing that I really enjoyed. The steward distributing them could tell that it was something that I really enjoyed, and at times he put an extra one on my tray.
New York, New York, by Ted Sears
But all that was secondary to me. My only concern was, how much longer before I see New York. The very first time I ever heard about New York, I wasn’t more than six years old. My father told me about it. It was one of the bedtime stories he would tell me from time to time before I’d fall asleep. “America is a beautiful country,” he said to me while sitting on the side of my bed, “and someday we’ll board a big ship and sail to America.” Like always, his story kindled a flame within me and I began to dream of being on a big beautiful luxury liner on the way to America where I could get anything and everything my heart desired. I fell asleep before he finished the story but the name “New York” was something I never forgot. As a matter of fact, later on when the teacher in my geography class asked, “Who knows where New York is?” I was the first one to reply that it was in America.
To me, at that young age, America and New York were the same thing. But once the war started, America was very much in the news all the time. Especially for the Jewish population in Hungary, America was still their number one choice to emigrate, if at all possible. My parents talked about it often. They’d tell me that life in the U.S. is easy, and New York is the city where all dreams are fulfilled. Everything I ever heard or read about America was positive. On many occasions my parents would repeat that someday our entire family would sail to America. Little did I realize at the time that their dream of sailing to America will come about in such a bizarre way.
The closer I was getting to the shores of America the more I wondered what life is really going to be there. I was anxious and could hardly wait to be there and didn’t care even if I had to work hard to succeed.
New York City - the home of the skyscrapers and the subways. I am sure that I'll make my mark there. I don't know how as of yet - but I am sure that it will happen" was racing through my mind.
The friends we were sailing with were from different parts of Europe. We met them all in Föhrenwald. They were about the same age as we were. All of them were strong, fit, smart, and loaded with talent. None of us showed any ill effect of the camps and traveling together made the trip very enjoyable.
One of them was Leon, a tall lanky kid from Poland, a world class accordion player. To make the trip more pleasant he would entertain us in the afternoons. His long and lean fingers danced around the keyboard so dexterously that it sounded like an entire orchestra was playing. Other passengers would gather around, singing, clapping and urging him on to play more. Being a showman, he responded and the audience would sing along. The few, who dared to challenge the rocking ship, took to the floor, trying to show off some fancy footwork, but soon were disheartened by the antics of the angry old sea.
Another good friend of mine was a teen-ager from Germany. He was a magician and used to perform in a circus before the war, while he was still a youngster. He too would display his unbelievable talent, making things disappear right in front of your eyes. I watched his performance with utmost attention, trying desperately to figure out how it was done. I caught-on to a few of the tricks, others he showed me voluntarily, but he never divulged the secret of how to swallow a knife.
While we were all on the same ship, the destination of each one of us varied. Some, who had relatives waiting in Baltimore, Cincinnati, San Francisco and Chicago planned to continue their travel but most of us were heading for New York.
We talked a lot about what life would be like in the US and other petty things, but never about the past. We swore to keep in touch with each other forever, but after awhile, we lost each other. My friendship with Robert was the only camaraderie that withstood the test of time.
At nights, I watched the crew, playing poker. The entire crew on the ship was American. I stood behind the players and watched as they were dealing, betting, raising, bluffing and squeezing their cards, revealing so little of it that only they themselves were able to recognize the freshly drawn cards. Except for the movies, I had never seen a group of people playing poker like that. I found the whole scene so very exiting. If I had a camera, it certainly would have called for a snapshot. My fascination with the tense and serious card-playing characters made me feel as if I was in America already - as if a slice of Americana was placed right in front of me. The only thing missing was a saloon with dancing girls and a sheriff with a blazing Colt.
The excitement about going to a new land was growing bigger and bigger as I was getting closer and closer to America. Despite the fact that I was traveling to a new land, I felt as if I was going home. It didn't feel like I was going to a strange place, it felt very comfortable. I didn't know what to expect once I got there but just the fact that I was no longer in Germany was enough to make me feel jubilant.
As I was entering New York harbor, I noticed the Statue of Liberty. I heard so much about it and here it was, right in front of me, looking tall and proud, just waiting for our ship to arrive. Nothing could have pleased me more than being able to snap a picture of this momentous occasion but not having a camera I just pointed at it and yelled to Mickey excitedly "Can you see it? That's the Statue of Liberty!”
Statue of Liberty photographed in early 1950s by Halborn descendant Roman Freulich.
