How tall is Eve Lodz?
Street Map of the Lodz Ghetto. From The Diary of Dawid Sierakowiak. Click anywhere on the map for an enlarged view of that section - click here to turn GRID. The Jews were packed tightly within the confines of the ghetto with an average of 3.5 people per room. In April a fence went up surrounding the ghetto residents. On April 30, the ghetto was ordered closed and on May 1, 1940, merely eight months after the German invasion, the Lodz ghetto was officially sealed.
Where is Lodz?
Lodz is in the center of Poland, almost in the geometrical center of the country. Read More
What are things you can do in lodz Poland?
http://www.virtualtourist.com/travel/Europe/Poland/Wojewodztwo_Lodzkie/Lodz-487247/Things_To_Do-Lodz-BR-1.html look here. Read More
When was Eve Lodz born?
Eve Lodz was born on January 10, 1978, in Poland. Read More
What are facts about Lodz Poland?
they call it lodz because from mieszko the first travel from a cannoe across a lake and so he called lodz for eglish meaning is ship. TRUE FACts Read More
When was lodz ghetto liberated?
Lodz Ghetto was liberated by the Red Army on January 19, 1945. Read More
When was Faculty of Management University of Lodz created?
Faculty of Management University of Lodz was created on 1994-09-01. Read More
How many people died in the Lodz Ghetto?
When the Lodz Ghetto was sealed on 1 May 1940 it had population of 164,000. Only 900 survived ... However, the total number of deaths in Lodz was much higher than those figures suggest. The Nazis deported Jews from Lodz to Chelmno and moved in other Jews to replace them. Read More
What was the name of the camp where Jews from the Lodz Ghetto were liquidated?
Most of the Jews in the Lodz Ghetto were killed at Chelmno and later at Auschwitz. Read More
When was the Lodz Ghetto built?
The Lodz Ghetto was created by the Nazis in 1940 and liquidated in 1944. It lasted longer than any other ghetto. Read More
How and why was Lodz ghetto formed?
It was formed because the Nazis wanted to put all of the Jews from Lodz and the surrounding areas into one place. It was formed by the Nazis taking one area of Lodz and putting barbed wire fences and huge stone walls around it, to make sure that no one came in or got out. The Jews in the Lodz Ghetto had to work for the Nazis in order to get food. Read More
How were guest registered and processed when they first entered the camp Lodz?
Lodz was not a camp, it was (is) a city. The Germans established a Jewish ghetto there (Litzmannstadt). It was closed to visitors/guests. Read More
How big were Holocaust gas chambers in the Lodz ghetto?
There were no gas chambers in the Lodz ghetto. The gas chambers and camps were not in cities, they were in much more secluded areas. Read More
What was a ghetto and which was the biggest?
What is Polands second largest city?
Name two Ghettos?
Where is Lodz located?
![Lodz ghetto transport lists Lodz ghetto transport lists](/uploads/1/2/5/6/125683454/429549270.jpg)
Who was the leader of the lodz ghetto?
The Jewish supremo (head of the Judenrat) of the Lodz Ghetto was Mordechai Chaim Rumkowski. He is very controversial. See the links below for more infomration. Read More
How many Jews were held in the Lodz Ghetto Poland?
When the Lodz Ghetto was sealed off in May 1940 it had 164,000 Jews. As they died more were brought in ... but the figure fluctuated. Read More
What army ended Lodz Ghetto?
The Nazis dissolved the Lodz Ghetto in August 1944 and the remaining Jews were put on two trains and sent to Auschwitz. So there was no liberation. Read More
What are the biggest cities in Poland?
What are some of the ghettos from the holocaust?
What are 2 major cities of Poland?
Are there any pictures of lodz ghetto?
What were the living conditions in Lodz Ghetto?
What was the first ghetto of world war 2?
What does the name Lodz mean in English?
What was the purpose of the lodz ghetto?
How many people were in the Lodz ghetto?
How many inhabitants does Lodz have?
About 753,000 (in 2007) according to Wikipedia. Read More
How many people died in the Lodz Ghetto of starvation?
What is the distance between lodz and Berlin?
Were books allowed in the Lodz ghetto?
No, but there were some books in the ghetto when it was formed. Read More
What distance Wroclaw to lodz?
Approximately 221 kilometers (about 137 miles). Read More
How many Jews were kept in the lodz ghetto in 1920?
Where was the Lodz ghetto located during the holocaust?
When did the Lodz Ghetto become an imprisonment ghetto?
What city is an importand textile centrer and the second largest city in Poland?
What are the major cities of Poland?
Warsaw, Krakow, Lodz, Poznan, Gdansk, Wroclaw Read More
When was Riva MinskaRuth Minsky Sender born?
How many children lived in the Lodz Ghetto during the Holocaust?
Lyrics Wir Fahren nach Lodz?
Which one was the largest ghetto?
The Warsaw Ghetto was easily the largest, followed by Lodz. Read More
What was the second biggest ghetto in the Holocaust?
![Lodz ghetto map Lodz ghetto map](/uploads/1/2/5/6/125683454/436377397.jpg)
The Lodz Ghetto, which initially had about 160,000 inhabitants. Read More
What are famous places in Poland?
Warsaw (the capital), Krakow, Wroclaw, Lublin, Lodz, Gdansk. Read More
Letter l and the holocaust?
Where was Chelmno death camp?
It was in a small town in Poland, about 45 miles WNW of Lodz. Read More
An important textile center that is the second largest city Poland is?
An important textile center that is the second largest city in Poland is Lodz. Lodz is located in Central Poland and once held one of the largest Jewish communities in Europe until Hitler took over. Read More
Was lodz ghetto bad?
yes, however it was not as congested as some and had more work than most. Read More
Where was a Jewish ghetto during World War 2?
* Warsaw * Lodz * Krakow * Lvov (Lemberg) * Bialystock Read More
I came to England after the second world war as one of the scores of people who had managed to flee from the carnage brought against Europe's Jews. I settled in London where I studied painting at the Slade School of Fine Art, later becoming a filmmaker. I married, brought up a family, and led a fulfilling life. My English friends knew that Poland was the country of my birth but little about my life there. They were surprised to hear that at the end of August, I planned to go back to join a gathering of ghetto survivors to commemorate 65 years since the liquidation of the Lodz-Litzmannstadt ghetto. Survivors were to gather from many continents, some accompanied by children and grandchildren, to participate in the event for the last time in their lives.
'Why go?' I was asked by friends over drinks. 'You never mentioned that you had been in a ghetto.'
'I wasn't, but my parents and all my extended family were.' After a pregnant silence, my friend George raised his glass. 'Let's drink to Mira's luck!'
Yes, I was lucky – but luck comes at a price. The lucky ones, like me, as they grow older, discover that they are shackled to the shadows of known and unknown people, dead or alive.
During the flight to Poland, riding the clouds, I was hit by a kaleidoscopic flow of memories about my life in Lodz before the war. My parents had three children: my brother was followed by two daughters of whom I was the youngest. We lived in a comfortable, modern apartment in the centre of the town with members of our extended family living close by – Father's four brothers, Mother's three sisters, and my numerous cousins. The Lodz telephone book had many Hamermeszes – the original spelling of our name.
Father took pride in Lodz, Poland's second most important city after Warsaw. I recall walks with him, listening to rags-to-riches stories. Five hundred thousand residents thrived in the energetic climate generated by Lodz's economic, social, political and cultural spheres. Unlike any other Polish city, it had a unique mix of ethnic nationals – Poles, Jews and Germans – who somehow managed to coexist, if not always in harmony. Before the war, the Jewish population numbered about 230,000, almost half the city's population.
Hitler's war against the Jews brought about not only the annihilation of people physically, but also of their personal documents. In my own battle to seek traces of memories, the few family photographs I had played a vital role. I took them with me to Lodz. Mother's photograph never fails to revive a sense of her presence. My nostrils still hunger for the scent of her perfume. It was taken at the Marienbad spa, the summer before the outbreak of war. It shows a statuesque woman, well-dressed, with Polish features. It does not reveal that she was anxious, fearful about the future. I'll never know what kind of foreboding had made her say: 'Danger everywhere … I feel it in my bones.' Father was photographed wearing a fashionable ski hat, bringing memories of the crisp, white Carpathian mountains. In a crowd of blond, sky-blue eyed Poles, his Mediterranean looks drew attention. He had a cheerful disposition and trusted people, knew the names of plants and trees, and was fond of horses. I resemble him in looks. My sister inherited Mother's Slavic features, as well as her anxious nature, while my brother's Nordic appearance, in the Nazi racial new order world, was a ticket to safety.
Landing at Lodz Reymont airport, my heartbeat quickened, and I was hit by jumbled memories about the outbreak of war. Unlike Warsaw, Lodz did not resist the invaders. It could not, because on 8 September 1939, immediately after the German troops entered Lodz, the local German-speaking population became an aggressive, swastika-wearing fifth column. We watched in horror as flags with swastikas and portraits of Hitler appeared in the windows of their homes and shops.
I was a bookish teenager with a passion for films, Latin and ice skating, filled with desire to see the unknown world. Then, suddenly, the war! I watched the German troops passing under our windows, greeted enthusiastically by local Germans. History in the making was parading before my eyes. I must confess, at first I found it exciting.
Not for long. I reacted with hatred and rage to my first experience of a German soldier entering our home. Hans, a worker in Father's modest rubber factory, who went for his summer holidays to Germany as a Polish citizen and returned a fully fledged member of the Wehrmacht, had come to pay a visit. 'Well, Jew,' he greeted my father, 'your home is going to be mine. Soon we Germans are going to move all the Jews out from this town.' Before leaving, he warned Father of dire consequences if anything was sold or removed. It broke my heart to see my resourceful father humiliated and stripped of authority.
The idea to leave Lodz came to me after a succession of daily proclamations forbidding Jews from anything that makes life bearable: owning businesses or practising their professions, using tramways, entering cinemas, congregating for studies or prayers. I had become obsessed with the idea of joining my sister in Palestine who, a year earlier, as a young Zionist, had persuaded our parents to let her study there. My desire to leave created havoc. Mother blamed Father. 'You've filled her head with stories that everything is possible if one wishes hard enough.' She wrung her hands in despair. 'And you, Miss Fantasy, forget about your crazy ideas. It's war – and families stay together!'
Father could see that her words were falling on deaf ears. 'Let her learn that getting to Palestine is a pipe dream.' For safety, he appointed as chaperone my 17-year-old brother, whose task it was to bring me back safely.
It was a rainy Sunday in November when the hour of separation came. We were standing ready with backpacks, facing my tearful mother. She broke down: 'I'll never see you again!' Her embrace held me rigid, her warmth was like a magnet, and I knew that if I stayed one second longer I'd never be able to tear myself from her. 'I'll never see you again!' she lamented, and I slid from her arms and, without looking back, ran down the stairs, chased by her sobs.
My parents only learned some months later that my brother and I had managed, against all odds, to get away from the German-occupied part of Poland to the part annexed by the Soviets. In Lvov, a Polish city already Sovietised, we found shelter with family friends. It was not for long. Soon afterwards, my brother was picked up by the Soviets and, after a year in prison, forced to sign a confession that he was a spy. He was deported to a gulag in Siberia. Meanwhile, I made my way to the then neutral Lithuania where, thanks to my sister, I got on to a list for Youth Aliyah, an organisation formed to rescue Jewish children from the Nazis. I reached Palestine in 1941, where I was reunited with my sister, and later – amazingly – my brother. I finally settled in London in 1947.
My mother's lament often echoed in my head. I consoled myself by making plans for our future joyful reunion. But the sorrow I had caused her caught up with me with a vengeance when I myself was about to become a mother. In the hospital delivery room, when I called out in pain – 'Mama, Mama' – it revived her lament. My son's arrival was greeted with tears of joy mingled with tears of longing for my family. By then, I had already learned of my parents' fate. Mother, Fajga Hamermesz (née Lerer), died of starvation in May 1943. And Father, Josef Meir Hamermesz, who had miraculously stayed alive until the end, was deported to Auschwitz with the last transport from Lodz in 1944.
This year in Lodz, I chose to stay at the Grand Hotel. It was where Father used to take us on Sundays for a treat of ice cream. Its lobby was crowded with arrivals, and I watched many joyful reunions between survivors who had not seen each other for many years. I was hoping that during the four days of organised events I might meet some survivors who had known my parents in the ghetto.
Lodz-Litzmannstadt ghetto was established in February 1940. The area chosen was a poverty stricken slum district called Baluty. Before the walls built around it were finished, and it became hermetically sealed off from the rest of Poland, its streets were filled with chaotic scenes of families forced to vacate their previous homes, desperately seeking a place inside the overpopulated ghetto. My parents and other members of our family would have been among them.
As well as the catastrophic conditions of hunger and typhus epidemic which began to wipe out the population, the Germans chose Lodz ghetto as a stopover station for Jews deported from major German and European cities, including Berlin, Luxembourg, Prague and Vienna. On his arrival in Lodz, one wrote in his diary: 'We know now that hell exists, for Ghetto Lodz-Litzmannstadt is its pit.' The destinations of approximately 20,000 new arrivals were Auschwitz or Chelmno, a lesser known extermination camp. These foreign Jews were deported ahead of the Lodz Jews. Gypsies from Romania and Hungary were also sent to Lodz. The Germans had established a mini-ghetto within the Jewish ghetto where they were liquidated.
At the reunion, stories included heated discussions about Chaim Rumkowski. A distinguished-looking man in his 60s, I remember him pinching my cheeks when I was a girl and he ran the Jewish orphanage. He was appointed by the Germans to run Lodz ghetto and will never be forgiven for carrying out the command to deliver 3,000 children for deportation. 'Give me your children,' he asked the starving Jews who had gathered to hear him speak. By then, they knew about the gas chambers in Auschwitz and Chelmno, the two death camps with direct rail links from the station built to serve the ghetto. In the end, Rumkowski also died in Auschwitz.
In my quest to learn more about the Lodz ghetto, keen to know what my parents would have faced there, I engaged a survivor in a conversation about Rumkowski. 'This puppet dictator who fancied himself king of the Jews? A murderer of children, he was!'
A woman interjected angrily: 'Why not tell her about the schools, the children's summer camps in Marysin, the concerts and other cultural activities that Rumkowski provided? And hospitals? In our ghetto, people were not dying in the streets like in Warsaw.'
'If you ask me,' a bearded survivor addressed me, 'history is still undecided whether he was a villain or a hero. No other ghetto survived as long as ours. In the end, Lodz had the largest number of survivors. Look what a huge crowd we make.'
A survivor in a wheelchair pushed by his grandson, on hearing my name, greeted me: 'You must be one of the Hamermesz daughters.' He gripped my hand and I held on, as if his wrinkled, arthritic hand was a bridge for me to walk over into the world of the ghetto. 'I was the doctor on duty in the Lodz hospital when your father brought your mother in.'
The grandson wheeled him outdoors to the nearest cafe, ordered coffee and tactfully left us alone. 'Before your mother was taken ill, I saw her passing in the street. She was so emaciated that her dress hung on her like a tent.'
Seeing me close to tears, he consoled me. 'She was very sick when she was taken in. Swollen from hunger, and jaundiced, and we doctors had no proper medicines. Your father would bring her his own bread and soup which, believe me, were starvation rations … potato peel was a medicine obtained on prescription ...'
We were sitting in Piotrkowska Street. Its art-nouveau architecture had been the pride of the city, it was where Mother used to take us shopping for new clothes. And here Uncle Bernard had his large wholesale shop of felt materials fronted by a huge signboard, 'Hamermesz & Son'.
'You know, your mother was a very lucky woman. She had your father sitting by her bedside, day and night. Also important was the fact that none of her three children had to suffer with her in the ghetto. She knew that your sister was safe in Palestine. About you and your brother, she was worried. Your father kept telling her that if bad news did not reach them, it was a good sign.
'Let me tell you something else,' he added. 'She was lucky to die when she did. She was spared the brutal scenes of the deportations to Auschwitz …' Later I learned that he talked from experience. He was one of the doctors forced to make lists of critically ill patients earmarked for deportations.
The next morning, I went to Mother's grave. In the ghetto section of the cemetery, where hundreds of thousands of Jews were buried without proper graves, she was lucky to have one. Afterwards I followed people gathering at Radegast, the station which has been transformed into a memorial, with a single cattle truck preserved as a relic. Father would have been forced inside one, sealed in with 100 or more people, before it carried him towards the gas chambers of Auschwitz. My hand touched the carriage, still full of unclaimed ghosts.
Yet, the Lodz commemoration turned out to be a celebration of remembrance. The hardships experienced by Lodz's ghetto population equipped them to be master-teachers for the future: they learned the hard way how to rebuild wrecked lives. My parents' experiences of the Final Solution, from which I was saved, have left me with a lifelong unease, made bearable only through creativity. Whether in my films, my painting or my writing, the unspeakable evil endured in the Lodz ghetto is the pivotal force that has always driven me.
Mira Hamermesh's memoir The River of Angry Dogs is published by Pluto Press, priced £12.99