out onto the river where hale Mike Wigglesworth would never more be seen, when he suddenly whirled and fixed Andrew with a coruscating gaze.
"Eliot," he concluded, "George Keller will be arriving tomorrow evening." -
GEORGE KELLER
Something sinister in the tone Told me my secret must be known: Word I was in the house alone
- Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone, -Word I had no one left but
God.
ROBERT FROST
CLASS OF 1901
Budapest, October 1956
G
eorge's childhood had been dominated by two monsters: Joseph Stalin-and his own father. The only difference
between the two was that Stalin terrorized millions, and his father merely terrorized George. --
True enough, "Istvan the Terrible," as George often
thought of him, had never actually killed or even imprisoned anybody. He was merely a minor official in the Hungarian People's Working Party who used Marxist-Leninist jargon to castigate his son. -
"Why does he flagellate me?" George would complain to
his sister, Marika. "I'm a better socialist than he is. I mean, I believe in the theory, anyway. And even though I think the
- party stinks, I've joined for his sake. Why is he so fed up?"
Marika tried to mollify her brother. And comfort him. For, try as he did to deny it, George was genuinely upset by the old man's disapproval.
"Well," she said softly, "he'd like your hair a little shorter.:.." -
"What? Does he want me to shave my skull? I mean, lots of my friends wear Elvis Presley ducktails,"
"He doesn't like your friends either, Gyuri."
"I don't know why," said George, shaking his head in consternation. "They're all sons of party members. Some are big shots, too. And they're a lot easier on their-children than Father is." -
"He just wants you to stay home and study, Gyuri. Be honest, you're out almost every evening."
"You be honest, Marika. I graduated first in my gimnazium class. i'm studying Soviet law-" -
At that very moment Istvan Kolozsdi entered the room and, immediately taking command, finished his son's sentence.
"You are at the university because of my party status, yompetz, and don't forget it. If you were merely a clever Catholic or Jew, it wouldn't matter how high your grades were. You would be sweeping some provincial street. Be grateful you are the son of a party minister."
"Assistant minister," George corrected him, "in the Farm
Collectivization Office."
"You say it as if it were a disgrace, Gyuri." -
"Well, it's hardly democratic for a government to force people to farm against their will-"
"We do not force-"
"Please, Father," Gyuri answered with an exasperated sigh,
"you're not talking to some naive idiot."
"No, I'm talking to a yompetz, a worthless hooligan. And as for that girlfriend of yours-"
"How can you criticize Aniko, Father? The party thinks she's good enough to study pharmacy."
"Still, it hurts my standing when you're seen with her. Aniko's a bad type. She malingers. She sits in cafés in Vaci Ucca listening to Western music."
What really annoys you, George thought, is that I sit right
next to her. Last Sunday in the Kedves we heard Cole
Porter for nearly three hours.
- "Father," said George, hoping for reasonable debate instead of a brawl, "if socialist music is so great, why doesn't -the Stalin Cantata have any good tunes?"
Livid, the government official turned to his daughter. "I won't talk to this yompetz anymore. He's a disgrace to our entire family."
"I'll change my name," George said facetiously.
"Please," said the old man, "the sooner the better." He stormed out and slammed the door. -
George turned to his sister. "Now what the hell did I do?" Marika shrugged. She had been the referee in these
father-and-son combats for as long as she could remember. There seemed to have been conflict ever since their mother died- when George was five and she only two and a half.
The old man was never the same after that. And in his fits of bitterness he would vent his anger on his eldest child. While she tried to grow up as quickly as she could to be a mediating force-a mother to her brother and a wife to him.
"Try and understand, George, he's had a very hard life."
"That's no excuse for giving me one. But in a way I understand. He feels trapped in his job. Yes, Marika, even socialist officials harbor ambitions. The Farm Program is an unmitigated disaster. His boss naturally blames him, so who can he let out his frustrations on? Sometimes I wish we had a dog so he could kick it instead of me."
Marika realized that, despite George's angry
protestations, at a certain level he genuinely sympathized with his father's disappointment. Yet, the old man had done well for someone who had begun life as an apprentice shoemaker in Kaposvar. Istvan Kolozsdi's greatest misfortune
was that he had sired a son whose brilliance would inevitably show how mediocre he really was. -
Somewhere in their hearts, the two men knew it. And this made them afraid to love- each other.
"I have tremendous news!" called Aniko as she dashed
across Muzeum Boulevard to catch George between lectures at the Law Faculty.
"Don't tell me," he smiled, "the pregnancy test was negative."
"That I won't know till Friday," she replied, "but listen
to this-the Polish students are striking to support Gomulka- and we're organizing a sympathy march."
"Aniko, the Secret Police will never let you get away with it. Those AVO thugs will beat your brains in, Or else our friendly Russian 'visitors' will."
"Gyuri Kolozsdi, not only will you march with me, but you will carry one of the posters I've spent all morning painting. Now, which one would you like-'Hail Polish youth'?
'Russians get out'?"
George smiled. Wouldn't the sight of him carrying such a placard warm his father's heart? "I'll take that," -he said, pointing at "New Leadership for Hungary."
They kissed.
March Fifteenth Square was electric with anticipation. Thousands of demonstrators had crowded onto its grassy turf, carrying posters and flags. There were delegations from factories, schools, and universities. A young actor from the National Theater clambered up the statue of S ándor Petofi and began to declaim the poet's "National Hymn," which had ignited Hungary's 1848 Revolution.
The ever-increasing throng joined in with special vigor when they reached "Most vagy soha-now or never!"
For the first time, George began to feel that something important was happening. And he was a part of it.
At last the procession began, led by chanting demonstra-
-tors who carried a wreath of red carnations. They began to pour into the main city streets, blocking traffic as they passed. But there was no animosity. Many motorists simply locked their cars and joined the marchers, whose ranks had already been swelled by the shop owners -and workers all along the way. Every window, every balcony was filled with families waving encouragement.
As if by magic, Budapest was transformed into a boundless field of red, white, and green. People everywhere had fashioned tricolors of ribbons, cloth-and even paper. When the students took their final turn into Jozsef Bem Square, they could see that the statue at the center was already draped with a huge Hungarian flag, the Soviet coat of arms torn out of its center. -
Toward sunset, many students talked about going to dem
onstrate in front of Parliament. Others proposed an attack on the great statue of Stalin that had for so many years
stood in the center of the City Park looking down at Budapest with cast-iron mockery. George and Aniko held hands and let the mainstream carry them back across the river toward Parliament Square.
"What do you think the government will do?" George asked.
"Resign. They have to."
The immensity of the crowd in Parliament Square was almost frightening. Hundreds of thousands-it seemed like
millions-were laying siege to the venerable government edifice with its embroidered Gothic pinnacles. All were
shouting for the return of the only leader they trusted, Imre Nagy, who had been removed from office by the Russians the year before. - -
Evening became night and the air -grew bitingly cold. But many had made torches of the newspapers and pamphlets they held in their hands and continued to shout for Nagy.
Then suddenly, unexpectedly, a slight figure appeared on a balcony. From the front rows a ripple of voices began to echo and crescendo toward the back. "It's Nagy, it's Nagy!" Somewhat weakly, himself overcome by the emotion of the moment, the deposed leader raised his hand to plead for silence.
"Has he gone mad?" George wondered out loud, "He's waving his hands like a lunatic."
But in an instant all became clear. He was leading the massive throng in the singing of the national anthem. It was a stroke of genius!
After the song ended, Nagy disappeared as swiftly as he
had materialized. The crowd-thrilled and elated-now began to break up. Instinctively, they knew no more would happen that night. At least not in Parliament Square.
George and Aniko were halfway back to the university when they heard gunfire. He took her hand and they began to run
down toward Muzeum Boulevard. The cobblestone streets swarmed with people, excited, curious, frightened.
When they reached the Muzeum Garden, there were still traces of tear gas in the air. She took out a handkerchief and held it to her face. George's eyes were beginning to burn. A
hysterical young girl was shrieking that the Secret Police had massacred defenseless people.
"We're going- to kill every one of those bastards!" she sobbed.
"Fat chance," George whispered to Aniko. "I'll believe it when I see my first dead AVO man."
He took her hand and they began to run again.
Less than a block later, they stopped in their tracks, horrified. Above them, strung up by his feet from a lamppost, were the bloody remains of a Secret Police officer. George felt sick.
"Gyuri," said Aniko with a shudder, "we know what they did to their prisoners."
On the next block they saw corpses of two more AVO agents.
"God," Aniko pleaded, "I can't bear this anymore."
"Come on, I'll take you home." -
"Well, yompetz, I see they haven't arrested you yet."
It was nearly 5:00 AM. Istvan Kolozsdi was seated close to the radio, exhausted, smoking nervously. Marika rushed to embrace her brother.
"Gyuri, we've been hearing such terrible rumors. I feared that something had happened to you."
"Forget rumors, Marika," the patriarch interrupted. "The truth has just been on the news."
"Really?" George said softly. "And what is Radio
Budapest's version of tonight's events?"
"There was a small Fascist insurrection, which the police have dealt with severely," said Istvan Kolozsdi. "And where have you been all evening?" -
George sat down in a chair opposite his father, leaned forward, and said with a smile, "Listening to Imre Nagy."
"You are mad. Nagy is a nonperson."
"Try telling that to the thousands who cheered him in Parliament Square. And we're going to get him back as party leader."
"And I'm getting my hair back on my head. You're all a bunch of crazy idiots."
"Spoken like a true socialist," said George, as he headed
119
out of the room. "I'm going to sleep. Even lunatics need rest."
Scarcely three hours later, his sister was prodding him.
"Wake up, Gyuri. Nagy is named premier! It's just been on the news."
George forced his weary body to get out of bed. He had to
see his father's face. Still buttoning his shirt, he shuffled into the sitting room. The old man seemed welded to the spot beside the radio, surrounded by ashtrays spilling over with cigarette butts.
As Marika handed George a cup of black coffee, he asked his father, "Well?" -
The patriarch looked up and, without the slightest trace of irony, replied, "You have never heard me say a word
against Imre Nagy. In any case, he must have the blessing of Moscow, because he has asked for help from the Soviet troops."
"Now I think you're the dreamer, Father." And then,
turning to his sister, he said, "When Aniko calls, tell her
I've left for the university."
He tossed a jacket over his shoulder and hurried from the house.
In the years that followed, George looked back at this moment and wondered why he had neglected to say more of a farewell. Not to his father. For he was angered by the old
man's shameless display of hypocrisy. But why had he not been more affectionate to Marika?
He was never able to console himself with the thought
that, on that cold October morning in 1956, he could not have dreamed how far he was going.
The university was a tornado of rumors. After every radio broadcast, people would scurry around the hall like town criers. The exhausted students cheered upon hearing that President Eisenhower had said, "The heart of America goes out to the people of Hungary." They sang to one another, "The whole world is watching!"
But the peak of euphoria came on Tuesday afternoon, when Premier Nagy announced that the evacuation of Soviet troops had begun. George must have knocked down six peo
pie as he dashed ecstatically across the room to embrace
Aniko