After the Second World War, the Communist regime in Hungary banned, among many other institutions, the scouting movement. Hungarian scouts reorganized in exile, first in Western Europe, then in other countries where Hungarians fled. Since 1951, Hungarian scout troops have been meeting and camping in the Cleveland area.

Scout meetings and campouts often feature a storyline, such as about King Stephen of Hungary, or the Turkish occupation of Hungary, to help the second- and third-generation Hungarian-American children to better understand their heritage. (Role-playing, costumes, and active involvement by every scout make history come alive.) The 1956 storyline detailed below was developed to help young Hungarian-American scouts to better fathom what many of their grandparents experienced. Each scout meeting and outdoor activity planned for 2006 features a situation or game – detailed below – to help the scouts understand the oppression of everyday life in a Communist country. — [ed.]



The goal is not for the scouts to learn every fact and detail about the Revolution, but rather for them to understand the causes. We will somewhat live under oppression.
February 10

Zsuzsa Daróczy, who, it later turns out, will be the informant / party secretary, takes mug shot photos of each scout for their personal identity cards. She hands out a booklet about 1956 and in a boring fashion drones on about the events.

February 17

Continuation of photos, dry background historical info. Send an email to parents and other adults warning them that we are experiencing the events in an unorthodox way and not to be surprised if they see some unscoutlike activities going on.

February 24

Indoor campfire. As each scout enters the room, they find a communist functionary (Andrea Mészáros) sitting at a table with a red-starred flag displayed prominently behind her. She stamps their identity cards and hands them over in a hostile manner. Zsuzsa Daroczy obediently helps and gives each scout a red star to pin on their uniforms. Scoutmaster Pigniczky expresses reservations but obeys. During the campfire the communist functionary tells the girls what they can and cannot sing, e.g. no songs mentioning God, church, or country, no national pride.

The entire storyline does not apply to the younger age group (6-9 yr olds) because they are not yet mature enough to discern and comprehend.

Campfire topic: „What is a Scout?” Sing patriotic songs so the communist functionary can interject with something like, „Comrades should not sing such songs because they don’t fit the ideology of the international socialist movement.” Campfire leader is surprised, looks at Scoutmaster, then obeys. Later, after being stopped multiple times, she starts a patriotic song and immediately stops it on her own. She looks over to the communist functionary, who nods approvingly. Shortly later the functionary leaves, saying that the campfire leader now knows and understands. The functionary then goes on to inspect a different scout activity, and the campfire is concluded. Afterwards, the Scoutmaster furtively signals for the scouts to gather in close, then, in tears, tells them what a horrible experience it is to find out that your best friend is an informant. She asks the scouts to be very careful about whom they talk to and what they talk about, because even innocent conversations can get them into big trouble.

After the campfire, the scouts return to the Scout Home to see a video about 1956, followed by informal discussion.

March 3

Before the meeting begins, a poster is placed outside the entrances of the Scout Home: „1956 Storyline In Progress”.

At the end of the usual leaders’ meeting, the Party Secretary takes out the offical Party ledger and demands that all comrades sign it. Anyone who does not sign will not be allowed to participate in any of the upcoming scout events (intramural scout competition, summer camp, leadership camp, European tour). The Scoutmaster, with a heavy heart, signs it, followed by the other leaders. Meanwhile, the Scoutmaster whispers to each leader in turn that she does not like this at all.

March 10

Before the meeting begins, a poster is placed outside the entrances of the Scout Home: „1956 Storyline In Progress”.

The doorbell rings. Secret Police agents, in pairs, enter the patrol meeting rooms, demanding IDs. One or two scouts from each patrol are „arrested” and forcibly led onto the stage (where the curtain is drawn and it’s dark), but they aren’t told why. The rest of the patrol remain in their room. When all the detainees are on the stage, the Party Secretary announces that they are guilty by virtue of having parents who are landowners, and so they’re being sent away for forced labor. The detainees are led away. The remaining scouts are told that they can stay put, because their parents are „reliable.” Forced labor is cleaning the bathrooms in the church basement.

March 31

Meeting takes place outdoors, at Cottonwood Park. During the meeting, it is announced that private property is being nationalized. A Party official (bearing the Communist version of the Hungarian flag, with a red star in the middle) proceeds to confiscate the scouts’ property – their neckerchiefs. The scout meeting continues, and includes a uniform inspection, whereby patrols receive demerits because their members are not wearing their neckerchiefs. Later, following the campfire, one scout leader will notice the confiscated pile of neckerchiefs and sneak them back to their owners, but no one puts them on again for the rest of the day.

April 7

In preparation for Easter, the scouts meet for a discussion with Reverend Eva Tamassy. Twenty minutes later, Secret Police agents „raid” the meeting, arrest the pastor and take her away. Each Scout receives a demerit in her ID passbook for violating regulations against organized religious activity.

April 14: Easter week – No meeting.

April 21

The Party Secretary is off on a State-sponsored spa holiday. The Scoutmaster announces quietly to the scouts that she has begun, in secret, to organize a strike. The Scouts are asked to write letters (using their secret writing) (paper and envelopes should be on hand) to any scouts not present to alert them that a strike will occur on April 28. The Scoutmaster emphasizes that they are not to telephone their fellow scouts, because all telephone conversations are being taped.

April 28

Meeting and campfire at Cottonwood Park. Following the patrol meetings, all scouts take part in „active learning” activity familiarizing them with the events leading up to the revolution (October 16-22, 1956). Each of the four learning stations represents a city (not Budapest) in which university students were organizing protest activities. – Another game combines traditional knot-tying practice with the 16-point demands of the Hungarian students of 1956, in which each of the demands is written onto two sticks, then mixed up; the scouts have to unscramble the phrases, then tie the sticks together using lashing knots.

The next activity is to construct signs and torches for the upcoming street demonstrations (need wood, hammer, nails, posterboard, paint). Each patrol must construct one sign and one torch (and demonstrate correct use of construction tools).
Campfire and demonstration: each patrol arrives at the campfire from a different direction, carrying their torch and sign. Patriotic poems, folk songs and patriotic slogans keep revolutionary spirits high. The campfire concludes with the Hungarian national anthem.

May 5: Scout leader meeting.

May 12: Reenactment of the students’ gathering on October 23 in Budapest, at statue of Joseph Bem.

During the scout meeting, the singing of the Hungarian Scout fight song is interrupted by the Party Secretary, who comes rushing in (bearing her usual red-star version of the Hungarian flag), demanding that the scouts never sing that song again, and they should now learn a new Communist hymn. The Party Secretary starts to teach the new song, but the Scoutmaster can’t take it, and dramatically tears the red star off of her uniform, then tells the Party Secretary to leave – she will not endure this persecution any longer. The Scoutmaster grabs the flag and, using her pocketknife, slashes the Communist symbol out of the Hungarian flag. With that, the scouts all proceed to the Bem Statue (represented by a scout leader dressed as Bem and standing motionless), where others are already gathered. There, the scouts read the 16 points/demands aloud.

May 19-20: (a two-day meeting beginning at the Scout Home, and continuing to a nearby campground for an overnighter.) Reenactment of the events of October 23, 9 p.m., when unarmed student protesters in Budapest proceed to the building of the Hungarian Radio to demand that the radio broadcast their 16-point demands, whereupon the Secret Police fires upon them.

The Scoutmaster calls the scouts together, saying she has received word that many protesters have gone to the Radio building. The scouts all come out of their rooms, bearing their signs, and proceed to the „Radio headquarters” (the neighboring church garage), where they try to enter, but a Secret Police agent, from the roof of the garage, drops a smoke bomb onto the crowd. At the same time, a car drives up, screeches to a halt and disgorges additional secret policemen, who push and shove the protesters (scouts), trying to get them to leave. Two scout leaders courageously stand up to the secret police, who then proceed to „beat” them. A third scout leader is „shot,” then stuffed into the car and driven away. The Scoutmaster tells the rest of the scouts to return to the Scout Home, where they hold a meeting and decide to go to the Csepel factory to get themselves some weapons. The scout troop leaves for Csepel (the campground.)

May 26-28: Annual intramural Scout competition at Hungarian Scout Camp in Fillmore, New York, with participation of Hungarian Scouts from Cleveland, Chicago, New York, Washington, Toronto and Montreal. At this competition, patrols compete with each other in using their teamwork, scouting skills and knowledge of Hungarian to react and resolve unexpected situations – all this in the context of an elaborate storyline, with plenty of costumes, physical and mental challenges. This year’s storyline is the 1956 Revolution, and concludes with the emigration of thousands of Hungarian refugees after the revolution is crushed.

June 3-4 End-of-year campout and picnic.

September – October: During the first meetings of the school year, scouts invite their parents/grandparents who are „56-ers” to take part in oral history interviews. Based on these interviews, the Scouts prepare poster presentations to be displayed at the Cleveland exhibit being organized for the 50th anniversary of 1956.
Scouts will learn about the aftermath of 1956: crackdown, executions, escape and flight.

Created by Zsuzsa Daróczy and Eszti Pigniczky

Eszti Pigniczky
Born in 1968 in Lansdale, PA, her parents left Hungary as refugees in 1956. She grew up in the Hungarian community near Philadelphia, then continued her Hungarian scouting activities in New Brunswick, NJ, San Francisco and Los Angeles. Since 1995 she has lived in the Cleveland area. In 2001, she organized and led 40 Hungarian-American teenagers from the Cleveland Hungarian Scout Folk Ensemble on a 3-week research tour of villages in Hungary and Transylvania. She researches and collects Hungarian folk songs and customs, and since 2005 has been Scoutmaster of the Ilona Zrínyi Hungarian Girl Scout Troop #34 of Cleveland. With her husband, Endre Szentkirályi (also an active scout leader), she has four children: Keve, Bendegúz, Vajk and Enese.

Whenever the kids at school teased us about our funny names and our parents’ accents, we shot back: “Leave me alone, my dad was a freedom fighter.” That shut them up, at least for a while. My sister and I want our children to inherit this attitude and to know their grandfather’s story; but I need to know what’s fact and what’s fiction.

The story of his past in Hungary is not a straightforward one, mainly because he was the only one telling it, at least while we were growing up in the U.S. He also had quite a dramatic flare; he was known to exaggerate a story for effect, and his approach to names, dates and specific detail was liberal, to say the least. He was entertaining, and when you’re funny, specifics bog you down. Children loved him, but as an adult you were never quite sure how much of the facts he was embellishing.

The painful reality behind our film project was just this: if you subtract the intriguing anecdotes and heroic slogans of my father’s ’56 story, we had no idea what he did, exactly. Now that’s pretty disturbing for a journalist who wants to write her father’s story. I mean, I’ve always believed him, and my sister has always believed him-in fact my mother has always believed him even though she divorced him over 25 years ago – but that’s not a reliable account to tell my own children, who are already asking questions, and the oldest is not even four.

While other 56’ers have written memoirs about what happened and what they did – all very heroic or tragic or both -, my dad, whom everyone respected as a legitimate ’56er’ in our community, never really spoke in detail (out of fear for those he left in Hungary and because it just wasn’t his style) and never published a word. And by the time I became a journalist and realized one of the biggest stories lurking in my neighborhood could be my own dad, he was diagnosed with cancer in 2002. He passed away within 6 months, not living long enough to see my second daughter and my sister Eszti’s fourth being born – never mind getting his ’56 story down on paper or film. He left this world so suddenly, and so early at age 73, that his personal belongings, his life, his thoughts, pictures, and his story were left in total disarray. And so were we.

That is why I am making a film about my father and his involvement in the events of 1956. Our goal is to find whatever threads of memory remain from the files, letters and photographs that turned up after his death and to find out what we can in Hungary, about what he might have done to have to flee his home so permanently. And what he, as a spontaneous participant in ’56 history, might have seen that compelled him to reinforce that message in us throughout his life.

As for us, his daughters, our upbringing in the U.S. can be characterized as a Hungarian incubator: the idea was that once the Soviets pulled out of Hungary, we could move “back” and continue our lives with minimal upheaval. The ’56 stories were part and parcel of a very determined and consistent effort by our parents, and by an entire like-minded émigré Hungarian community, to raise us as children of ’56-ers, children of refugees, Hungarian boy and girl scouts living in the U.S. My father, Pige, was, of course, a key figure in our upbringing, together with my mother, who also escaped Hungary as a teenager in 1956; they were leaders in the community.

So this journey of making a film can’t just be about our father; it is also about us: those of us whose parents left Hungary in 1956, and who therefore grew up not in Hungary, but in some other country. After the tragic crushing of the revolution, more than 200,000 people left Hungary, many of them – like our father – with no other choice but to leave or face reprisal. Beginning in the 1990’s, many of our generation, young people in our 20’s and 30’s, “returned” to Hungary (where we had never lived). Many of us “commute,” but others have settled down in Hungary, some with a Hungarian spouse. Why are we coming “back,” why are we making a (second) home here? Who are we, and why is it that sometimes our own children speak only Hungarian? Why do more of my Hungarian-American friends live in Hungary than in the States? Are they here for economic reasons, or due to some unexplainable “homesickness?” And what does all this have to do with 1956?

If he were still here, I know what my father would say about this documentary and about my musings in general: “Reka: if you listen to me, you’ll do whatever you please.” – that’s what he always said. We always knew that he loved and supported us, but he wasn’t focused on his own legend, and ultimately, the follow-up and follow-through were not his style either. He was more dramatic in deeds than words, more action than armchair intellectualizing. He was the type who woke up in the middle of the night, mid-sleep, kneeling by the side of his bed, shooting over his mattress at the enemy. He taught us to do the same, in real life, if and when necessary. His message, minus the details of his own role, was loud and clear: when someone takes your freedom away and humiliates your nation, you don’t sit by idly. You act.

And as I have found in making this documentary film, the stories that Pige told us, his daughters, were not, in fact, embellished. When my sister and I searched for his name in the Secret Service Archives in Budapest and found people who knew him in those October days, we found verification for almost every single thing he told us. As it turns out, in fact, he was modest about his deeds and his fear of going back to Hungary was well-founded. He was, in fact, one of the leaders of a group of freedom fighters in the Budapest’s 7th district – and that out of the seven or so leaders, three fled to the West after the revolution and four were hanged in 1958.


Réka Pigniczky
Réka is a television journalist and producer who has worked for the Associated Press for nearly 8 years, mostly in New York City. Before moving to New York, she lived in Budapest from 1992-1996, working as a consultant for a Hungarian political party. She also helped organize and manage new women’s NGO’s that sprang to life after the political transition to democracy in the early 1990’s. She has an MA in journalism and international relations from Columbia University and an MA in political science from the Central European University in Budapest. She’s currently based in Budapest, Hungary, where she freelances for the AP and other broadcasters, although making the film Journey Home is taking up most of her time. The film will premiere in 2006. To read more about Journey Home, see www.56films.com.

It has been 50 years since Russian tanks crushed the dream of a free Hungary. But it has not been long enough to forget.

I was an artist. My job was to paint larger-than-life portraits of Lenin and Stalin. That wasn’t so bad. In fact, I was almost content with my lot. But then the Russians came back, and I had to paint sores on my wife’s face to keep her from being raped by the soldiers.
It was then I decided to leave Hungary.
That decision has haunted me ever since.

It was 1956. On the streets of Budapest, the euphoria had disappeared with the smoke. Now fresh Russian troops — soldiers of the same army that had saved our lives 12 years earlier — were coming house to house, restoring a brutal order. There was little I could do for myself except pray. But for Letty, my wife, prayer was not enough. With flour and water, and oil paint, I was again a serious artist, hurrying to complete my greatest creative work. Heart pounding, I struggled to steady my hand while transforming the smooth, young face of my wife to a visage ugly enough to repulse the most bestial of men.
And it worked. When the Russian troops burst into Letty’s parents house, they fired a burst of machine-gun fire into the ceiling, then stopped short in front of the sickly looking woman who sat in a dark corner, a babushka around her head.
Nagyon beteg, I said. Very sick.
Shuddering in disgust, the Russians quickly left the house.
And the next day, Letty and I left for Austria.
We had no plan. I knew only if anybody asked we would say we were going to visit relatives. We took a packed train to Szombathely, near the border. But there were rumors on the train that the station there was occupied by Russian troops. We jumped off the train when it slowed on the outskirts of the town. It was dark and we did not know what to do. We decided to play out our charade, walk into town and get a hotel room, pretending we were visiting friends. At 2 a. m. I woke up to the sound of boots stomping down the hallway. I heard a fist slamming on doors, and shouted orders. When they came to our room I was cowering under my sheets. I remember the clear, blue eyes under the cap. “ Where do you think you are going?” he said. I quaked. My throat was dry. “ We are visiting relatives.”
For a moment he looked into my eyes. “ It’s amazing how many people are coming here to visit relatives. Have a good time, see you next year.” And he was gone.
In the morning we got on a train going west. I felt the gaze of a man in a railroad uniform from across the aisle. “ I know what you are up to,” he said. “Maybe I can help.”
He told us that the end of the line was crawling with Russians. We followed him off at the station before the end, and through a tiny village. He took us to the edge of the forest and pointed the way. We must have made the wrong turn. For hours we wandered in the dark, looking for the edge of a swampy field that we were told marked the no-man’s land between us and the Austrian border. We grew tired and panicky. Suddenly the sky was floodlit with phosphorescent flares, and machine-gun fire seemed to surround us. I felt the flash and force of an explosion. Next thing I knew I was on my back in icy water.
“ Come on,” Letty shouted. “Crawl!”

We moved along the edge of the water until we reached a farmhouse. There, while on my hands and knees, I came upon a package of Austrian cigarettes. We walked to the house still shivering with cold and terror, so exhausted we didn’t care if it was Austrian or Hungarian. A man came to the door. “ We haven’t seen any of you lately,” he said.
“How did you make it?” The next morning, Austrian border guards told us they had recovered the bodies of six Hungarians in the swale we had crossed.
We had thought we were alone.

Fifty years ago the author fled the Russian invasion of Hungary, braving minefields and Russian tanks. Today he is a successful artist and writer, living in South Florida, dedicated to depicting the beauty and richness of his tropical environment. He knows that in the mind of the eternal exile, there is a fine line between courage and cowardice.
His book, entitled “ Retouching Stalin’s Moustache” is published in paperback and hardcover, with 366 pages, 10 photos and 9 line drawings. The book includes a more detailed version of his experiences during the 1956 revolution and subsequent escape from Hungary. It’s available at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble bookstores.

He was a teenager who lived in Budapest during the fateful days of October, 1956. He attended gymnasium in Kispest and studied hard to be a good student.

He despised the Communists for their godless ways and their hate of Hungarian customs and traditions. He hated still more the occupying Soviet Army who terrorized the population since 1945.

He feared the secret police who tortured Hungarians just because they voiced the wish to be free. He hated traveling across town to attend church on Sundays to avoid recognition by the local police and subsequent punishment for worshipping.

He read history books of the heroism of Hunyadi and Kossuth. He often recited the Petöfi poem that states,

“Stand up Hungarians—Your country is calling,

The question is ‘Do you want to be slave or free’?”

He attended the funeral of László Rajk on October 6, 1956 when 200,000 attended in the cold, soaking rain and shrieking winds to pay their respect for the victim of terror.

On October 23rd, with many other students, he gathered in front of the Bem statute in Buda to support the Polish rebellion against the Communist regime. That same day, he demonstrated in front of the Hungarian radio building when shots were fired at the peaceful demonstrators by the police.

He marched to the front of Parliament on the eve of October 23rd with 200,000 others who heard the reformer, Imre Nagy, speak to the assembled.

At fifteen years of age, he followed his father and took up arms to fight the Communists and the Russian occupiers. Miraculously, the Russians withdrew, and the Hungarian Army disarmed. He was jubilant that freedom triumphed.

He witnessed the complete collapse of the Hungarian Communist regime and the withdrawal of Russian occupiers. But he wondered why the Free World was focused on the closure of the Suez Canal and the British and French conflict with the Egyptians.

He believed the rumors that the Russians were amassing to return and squash the newfound freedom. And he trusted Radio Free Europe when they announced that help was on its way.

He again witnessed the attacks by Soviet tanks on a foggy, damp and frosty early Sunday morning, November 4. By firing his rifle, he tried his best to stop the tanks from rolling to the center of Budapest on the main road leading from Ferihegy, Budapest’s airport.

He was among the 10,000 Freedom Fighters who had no chance of winning against the overwhelming Soviet ground troops and their tanks. But he was lucky not to be among the 3,000 dead and 20,000 wounded who fought so desperately for independence. And, fortunately, he was not among the 20,000 individuals condemned, of whom 229 were executed, by the Kádár regime.

Instead, he was among the 200,000 Hungarians who fled to Austria and freedom. He was welcomed by the democratic world and thus, he had found his answer to Petöfi’s question, “Do you want to be a slave or free?”

He came to America and found freedom and happiness. His independent and patriotic spirit was renewed in his new country. Forty-eight years have elapsed, but that Hungarian Freedom Fighter is still alive and strong today.

I am that Freedom Fighter!

Leslie László Megyeri
Leslie László Megyeri is both a CPA and an attorney and currently serves as treasurer of the Hungarian Reformed Federation of America, a fraternal life insurance company in Washington, DC. He is also a retired U.S. Army Reserve Colonel and graduated from the U.S. Army War College. He and his wife Kathy (see her submission) reside in Washington DC.

Although I always knew that I was Hungarian-my family traveled back to Hungary every two years or so after I was born-I only really came into my Hungarian identity, the true spirit of it, much later in life. It is the same with the legacy of 1956. While I cannot recall the first time I heard the story of 1956, I always remember being aware of it and proud of my family’s role in it. But, it is only within the past decade or so that I began to dig deeper into the details of that fateful time in the country’s history and how that influenced my family’s life. Now, in retrospect, I not only see the signs of what my family members went through then and how it affected them, but I can also see how their life lessons from ’56 have had a profound effect on me.

I now recognize many things in my childhood that made my family different from the families of my friends. Nothing was ever wasted. Everything we had was savored and appreciated. For example, we were always required to clean our plate, not because of the common refrain ‘there were starving children in Africa’, but because my mother knew what it was like to exist on bread, lard, and cream of wheat for weeks at a time.

My Grandparents were adamant that we finish not just college but have advanced degrees, because they knew the power and freedom an education could provide throughout one’s life. It was due to their education that they were able to start new lives when they arrived in the U.S. in their late forties. Awareness of world affairs was another expectation in my home. And, when we came of age, it was understood that voting was a sacred duty, because they knew what it was like when your vote made no difference at all. My Aunt always inspired creativity and artistic expression in us, because as an artist who grew up under the repressive communist system, she knew all too well what stifling these freedoms meant to a creative soul.

My Grandparents, who lost everything they owned, not once but twice, now hold onto everything. It is a running joke that we need to do spring cleaning at the apartment, but are afraid what we will find from Christmases past. And finally, my Mother, who is extremely conservative in spending, will always say after a large purchase, “do you know we could restore a Hungarian church with this amount?” or “do you know how many scholarships could be funded with this in Transylvania?”

Over the years, as I grew closer to my Hungarian friends and learned the stories of my extended family members, I saw firsthand the injustice and untold suffering of communism. One of the most poignant stories is from a distant relative who in 1945 was babysitting her young niece when some Soviet soldiers got drunk and began to rampage through the town where she lived. They soon came to her house looking for “the little girl.” My relative quickly hid the girl in a kitchen cabinet and bravely met the soldiers at the door. One can only imagine what happened afterwards, but the girl was left untouched…except emotionally.

After moving to Budapest in 1990, I began to delve into the story and legacy of the Revolution of 1956. As I learned the details, I suddenly understood much more about my family’s role, their reason for leaving Hungary, and the historical significance of the Revolution. In 1991, when I attended the second ever, free commemoration of October 23, 1956, I was unbelievably moved. I remember vividly the large tricolor flag with a gaping hole cut out draped across the Parliament steps, the hundreds of candles people lit and the small flags they held. I remember hearing bits and pieces of stories being told as I passed through the crowd. And most of all, I remember one elderly gentleman sitting on the steps with his grandson in his lap, quietly telling him the story of 1956 with tears streaming down his face. I recall a feeling of deep pride at being a part of this nation, of what Hungarians stood for, and the small but significant role my family played in the 1956 events. As I lit candles in honor of each family member who participated in the 1956 Revolution, I made a solemn promise to myself to do my part in making sure this story was never forgotten. And now, 15 years later, on the occasion of the 50th anniversary, I feel that Hungarian-Americans have the opportunity and indeed the obligation to ensure that the story of 1956 continues to be shared. This is the inspiration behind the creation of the FreedomFighter56.com website and oral history project.

The Revolution
At its core, the Revolution was started by university students, who had had enough of communist oppression and demanded certain freedoms and reforms. Soon, the entire country responded to their call, including factory workers, who were expected to stay loyal to the communist leadership. Everyone was involved, from children to the elderly, and every possible tool was employed by the largely unarmed, and unprepared Hungarian people. There are wonderful stories of resourceful children turning soup bowls over in the street to look like mines. Apparently, the soup bowl trick would lure tank commanders out to take a look and the kids, who were waiting in the doorways framing the road, would throw a Molotov cocktail into the tank to disable it. I just recently learned that the Russians sent in 2,000 tanks to reclaim Budapest on November 4th. This was the same number of tanks Hitler sent into France (a country seven times the size) to take the entire country. Imagine, at its most dramatic moment, tanks fighting against kids with soup bowls.

Yet somehow, Hungary managed to bring the Soviet Union to its knees for nearly two weeks…13 days of freedom. When the Revolution was crushed, it was ended with such brutal force that it laid bare the lie of communism and pulled back the curtain on what the Soviets were trying to paint as a desirable political system for the people. Communist sympathizers all over then Western Europe – in France, Italy and England – finally saw the true face of communism with its cruelties and injustices. Years later the world would all learn that this was the first nail in the coffin of communism in the region. It was the beginning of the end.

Hungarian -American Pride / Passing the Story On…
My Mother has told me on several occasions that Hungarian émigrés who settled in the US didn’t necessarily want to talk about the Revolution, they had to talk about it, to discuss what they had gone through, and its effect on their new life in a new country. While Hungarian-Americans who left in ’56 held the flame of freedom high, it was quite a different situation in Hungary. There were years of reprisals – trials, imprisonment and executions – against those who were identified as Freedom Fighters. There was also silence imposed on the subject so that people could not talk about it, be taught about it, or commemorate it under the communist system. This is one of the main reasons, I believe, that Hungarian-Americans are so proud of what Hungarians accomplished 50 years ago, while Hungarians in Hungary seem ambivalent and much less certain how and what to commemorate this year.

A recent article in the Wall Street Journal stated, “a sense of family history is linked to self-esteem and resiliency in kids…stories of grappling with sad or difficult events may give children the wisdom and perspective they need to thrive.” It went on to say that, “children gain a sense of self in relation to other family members and to the past, building confidence.” I would also add that this builds pride and helps create identity.

The FreedomFighter56.com website is about passing on not only the stories, but also the very spirit of the Revolution to the future generation. It is about providing an apolitical forum for people to share their stories and talk about how the Revolution influenced them 50 years later. It is a place to feel proud of all that ’56ers accomplished. It is a place to encourage family members to add their individual stories to be part of the great tapestry of history, so we can begin to understand how the lessons of ’56 have been passed on to the children, grandchildren and spouses of freedom fighters. It is a place to answer the question 50 years after the fact: “What is the legacy of 1956 in the Hungarian-American community?”

My Family Story of 1956
Nagymami worked in a pharmacy on Móricz Zsigmond körtér. Nagyapi worked at the Nemzeti Bank. My Mother was 14, my Aunt 17, and they all lived just off the Körtér. On October 23, 1956, my Mother and Aunt were walking home from school when, like so many others, they were suddenly swept up in the demonstrations, which ended in the huge crowd in front of the Parliament. It was the beginning of the Revolution. In a few days, as the Revolution intensified throughout the country, my mother and aunt took on a more active role by gathering papers and groceries for the neighborhood, and digging up cobblestones to make barricades for the tanks, delivering messages, gathering news and collecting bottles and alcohol from the pharmacy supply to help freedom fighters make Molotov cocktails.

My Grandfather always told me that when he heard the first reports of the Revolution, he tipped his hat to his co-workers and walked home to the Korter, where he joined others to build barricades of cobblestones, high enough to stop or at least slow down the Russian tanks. My Grandmother continued to work at the pharmacy, even though she was the only one who remained and most of the store windows had been shattered by fighting. She later set up a makeshift hospital room in the back of the pharmacy to tend to wounded freedom fighters.

Hearing these stories and imagining my Grandmother and Grandfather being in the center of the conflict shaped my commitment to keeping the memory of this extraordinary event alive. These are my images of the Revolution, along with the familiar photos we have all seen. But there are other stories that I have heard that also left an indelible mark on me. For example, one afternoon, my Grandmother watched a young farmer walk across the Körtér through the blown out windows in her pharmacy. The young man carried farm tools over his shoulder and without any fanfare, walked straight to the state building on the Körtér that held the hated red star. Using his tools, he climbed up the side of the building and worked diligently to free the supports of the star. By the time he had finished, a crowd was gathered and shouting their support. As the star finally came free, the young man became entangled in one of the support wires, and was dragged to his death along with the symbol he so despised.

In late November 1956, after the Russians crushed the Revolution, my family made the emotional decision to leave Hungary.. Following a frightening escape and stays at several refugee camps, they settled in Maryland, close to Washington, D.C. I have often heard the stories of what it was like to start their new life here, not speaking the language and with very limited resources.

My Grandfather, who held a law degree, got a job at Sears as a lamp salesman. He would laugh when he told me that story, claiming it was the darkest time in his life. My Grandmother, a fully trained pharmacist, found a job washing bottles used in experiments at a local medical lab and was later promoted to prepping monkey brains for lab work. My Mother went to high school where she was teased for wearing the same two outfits over and over again. My Aunt got married to the man who helped my family escape.

Not only did the Kiss family survive, they lived the true American dream, while at the same time honoring and never forgetting their Hungarian roots. In doing so, they passed on the lessons of history – of their proud Hungarian heritage, of the hardships endured during communism, and of the spirit of 1956 -to their children and grandchildren. I pledge to continue the tradition they set in motion, by passing on these same lessons and stories to my own children. If all children and grandchildren of ’56ers commit to this, the legacy of the Revolution will live on and the sacrifices of the freedom fighters of Hungary will never be forgotten.


Andrea Lauer Rice is the founder and CEO of Lauer Learning, a multimedia educational company that creates innovative ways to teach kids about foreign languages, historic events and culture. It is also the sponsoring organization behind the FreedomFighter56.com oral history project, “ ’56 Stories” book and the FF56! educational computer game for teens about the Revolution of 1956. She is a proud Hungarian-American and an even prouder child and grandchild of ’56ers. The Mother of a 3-year-old, Lauer Rice is also working on ways to help parents raise their children bilingually through the creation of interactive Language Learning Packets. The first in this series, “Kis Majom,” will be available in time for Christmas 2006.

Please see also Edith Lauer’s “When the impossible seemed possible” story on
this site.

I am an ancient Hungarian pagan
Thundering along on horseback, with my sword held high
With intense devotion to forgiving Mother Earth, Mother Sun
I praise the spirit of the Universe

I am a disciple of Istvan
Thundering along on horseback, with my sword at my side
Building a nation
I carve out my place in the arms of the Carpathian Mountains

I am a woman from Eger
With my sword in my hand
Fighting against Turkish invaders
I endure for one-hundred and fifty years

I am a freedom fighter of ‘48
Protecting the Hungarian crown with my sword
My enemy was once my friend
I stand alone in the vast world

I am the vanquished of World War I
My sword is shattered
My ancient homeland is dismembered
Two thirds of my spirit flows away in blood

I am a Hungarian of ‘45
My sword is useless
I see my country mutilated
Nearly swept away by Fate

I am a refugee of ‘56
My sword is now mind and energy
Scattering across new worlds
I live lives in new lands

Now, today, I am an ancient Hungarian pagan
In spirit, I am thundering along on horseback with my sword raised
I was born in a foreign land but in my blood, the blood of the ancients’ flow
And together we dance beneath the Moon

NOTE: In the Light of the Moon was translated from the original Hungarian by the author.


Erika Kisvarsányi
Erika G. Kisvarsányi was born in Rolla, Missouri, in 1964. She received a Bachelor of Science degree in Physics from the University of Missouri-Rolla, and two Master’s degrees from the University of Florida, one in physics and the other in science education. She is currently teaching physics and mathematics at a local community college in Gainesville, Florida. Her hobbies include languages, travel, sports, and attending performing arts events.

Erika Kisvarsányi is the daughter of Éva Kisvarsányi.

Photographs from her Father, Géza Kisvarsányi, can also be found throughout “56 Stories.”