Eulogy - Part 1

In response to many people's request, I have placed the eulogy for Peter on this blog. I have divided it into 4 parts so that it is more easily read and manageable as a blog post (scroll down to "older posts" and click there to be taken to the other parts of the eulogy). After the memorial gathering, many people said that they had no idea what a fascinating life Peter had led, how interesting he was or that they could hear Peter saying the things I had written and it's true - he was so honestly expressive and in many cases I have used his words, as he wrote them in his life notes which he left for me.

Others were kind enough to let me know the special memories they have of Peter and to repeat some of the things he used to say to them - many of them totally indicative of Peter's hard work and commitment, humour and provocative nature.

I hope you find some insights into him and like me, marvel that so much was contained in one man.

Eulogy
for
Peter George Garas
22 September 2009

Some of you here today will know more about aspects of Peter than I do, having shared various parts of his life. And so I will not, perhaps, be able to do justice to the memories and experiences you have of him through the different phases of his life, especially those with which I have no knowledge or have not shared. Please forgive me for any oversight you think this Eulogy contains. How to adequately acknowledge the life and contribution of someone is a challenge, however, Peter did leave me some documentation about his early years to supplement my experiences and I hope this summary does go some way to sketching an outline of his life.

Birth (1949-1957)
Peter was born in Budapest, Hungary on 25 January 1949 at the Love Hospital to Leo and Katalin Garas. He was an only child and very precious son who may not have been born if World War II had not ended when it did. His mother was the survivor of two concentration camps, Venusberg and Matthausen, who was one of only a hundred or so survivors of over 2,000 women who were set out from Venusberg and were shipped by train to Mauthausen in the last throes of the war. She suffered from typhoid at the time of the liberation of the camp and walked back from the camp to Hungary, via Czechoslovakia, once she was fit enough to do so.

His father was a veteran of World War I and was caught up in the ghetto in Budapest during the Nazi occupation. He was in hospital following a heart attack, at the beginning of the occupation, and had to leave hurriedly to avoid the mass killing of patients there. That his parents survived, married and had Peter was quite an amazing feat!

Peter's mother was an opera singer, a soprano, and his father was a singing teacher. They lived in Budapest and


Peter became a child actor at the age of four, working for the Hungarian National Radio. He got a number of small parts in children's stories and met his favourite characters from the programs. As a result of his work on radio, he was also offered a number of parts on the stage and appeared in two plays, one being the 'Kremlin Torony Óra' with the famous actor Pécsi Sándor. This play was about the Tower Clock of the Kremlin - some melodrama about the life and times of Vladimir Illyich Ulianov or Lenin.

Peter writes: “There are a number of recollections, which accompany this period of my life. I recall the bitter sorrow when a new director from Russia arrived and took away the lovely red boots which formed part of my costume and replaced them with a used pair of army boots several sizes too large. His rationale was sound - Russian kids simply did not have pretty red boots to wear at the time of the Revolution. I never forgave him anyway.


One night when Pécsi Sándor was ill, the understudy finally had his chance. Everything was going swimmingly until all of a sudden he experienced the most dreaded event in an actor's life. He forgot his lines. There was a pregnant pause, a silence that seemed to fill the theatre. Every eye was on me as my lines came after the ones, which he had forgotten. I remember looking at the understudy, waiting for my cue and not receiving it making up a joining line which led into my lines and the show moved on. There was a palpable sense of relief among the actors. When the curtain came down I found myself hoisted in the air, hugged by grinning people and escorted in full costume across the street to the nearby cake shop where I was treated to as much cake as I could eat. This particular show was on for something like three months. Three months of steady work. I was earning my keep at the age of four or five.”

Photo: Peter 1954
The photograph of Peter taken during this stage play shows his confidence and self-possession even at the age of 5 or 6, which were such an essential part of him for his whole life. John G, who is here today, remembers hearing Peter on the radio in those days as well has having known Peter and his family from then on.
Peter recalled his first day at school in the following words: “On my first day at school, I can recall all the warnings which my mother gave me about how to behave in the class. I cannot recall any anxiety at having to go to school, rather I recall a sense of excitement and adventure. I came home from school with a note from the teacher. I had been whistling in class and had been made to stand in the corner for having transgressed the rules. My mother, exasperated went through the litany of rules, which she had explained to me and asked me how I could possibly have been silly enough to whistle in class. Nonplussed I replied that she had told me not to talk in class, whisper, nudge other children, laugh out loud and a dozen other things, but had NEVER mentioned whistling. At six I was already a smart-arse!”

When Peter was 7 years old, they left the country and escaped over the border to Austria. He learned many years later that his uncle in New York, Louis G, had paid, through some nefarious sources, some people in Hungary to spirit them out of the country. Apparently it cost US$1000 per person to do so, lying in the back of a truck under a load of carrots.

Here is how Peter described it: “This was a memorable trip, which involved lying under a bed of carrots in the back of a truck, which left Budapest and headed towards the border near Györ. Here we stayed overnight in the local synagogue sleeping on the pews with most of the adults fearing capture while we children just sensed the excitement and wondered what it was all about. When we headed out from the synagogue it was pitch black. The only piece of transport for a large group of us was a single ox cart. This was reserved for the ill, the very small children and the frail aged. Naturally I did not qualify for any of these categories and as a result spent a considerably uncomfortable time scrambling over ploughed fields where the furrows seemed to grow with the time that passed as my tired little legs felt like they were climbing over mountains. As we travelled slowly over the dark and forbidding terrain, there were star shells being fired into the sky in front and to our left. The people guiding the party said that these were being sent up by the border guards near the Czechoslovakian border. In silence and with just a little more fear we trudged on.

Suddenly our entire party was bathed in light. In the darkness behind the lights we could make out people and a VW combi-van with a big Red Cross on it. An audible groan of relief escaped from the throats of each adult in the party - we had arrived in Austria."

After time in Vienna and a refugee camp in Salzburg, which were full of adventure for a seven year old, they travelled by ship, the “SS Waterman”, to Australia. They were meant to go to the USA but only Peter's father was allowed entry to the States as he was born in Vienna so, to keep the family together they chose Australia instead, which was more relaxed about country of birth. While this led to disappointments for his parents in terms of work and career options, as well as foregoing family ties in the USA, it ended being the very best thing for Peter.
Photo Above: Salzburg 1956
Photo Below: Katalin, Leo and Peter prior to embarkation with cousin Suzanne, Rotterdam

Unfortunately, Peter's parents were not able to get employment in their chosen professions and, as with many other migrant families throughout the decades, they had to take what work they could find which ended with Peter's mother working as a clothing finisher and the family undertaking piece work on costume jewellery and other items at night. Peter said: :”My parents made this a game for me. However for them, I suspect it was a life and death situation, earning enough money to stay alive.”

The family located around the eastern suburbs of Sydney, sharing with other families in the early period after their arrival. However, Bondi Beach became Peter's home from the time he entered high school and he stayed there for the majority of his adult life, purchasing an apartment in Sir Thomas Mitchell Rd around 1975.