Verhovayak Lapja, 1943. január-június (26. évfolyam, 1-25. szám)
1943-06-10 / 23. szám
SECTION TWO ENGLISH EDITION VOL XXVI. JUNE 10, 1943 NO. 23 Portrait of a Hungarian 1943 By ILONA FULOP Men and women stopped in the streets as if rooted to the ground and gaped and stared with unbelieving eyes... bombs were falling from the sky, with fires flaring up and people dying in their wake. One moment there was a nice an$ peaceful villa in the midst of a beautiful garden, — the next it was turned into blazing ruins. The bodies of two small children were found under the debris. War hit them while they were sleeping peacefully, smiling perhaps in their innocent dreams. Thus the bombs — falling from the skies all over the world these days — found Budapest, the Hungarian Capital. The demolished villa belonged to Lajos Zilahy, a Hungarian writer of renown. But the children killed by the bombs, were not his children. He had moved out of his Louse but two weeks before, for no evident reason. His inexplicable instinct saved his own life, and the lives of his wife and his only child. Zilahy had always been a thinking man, with brilliant brains and sensitively live soul. He was profoundly shaken and for days and nights he had pondered upon the question: What was the value of the lives thus saved? ... What should be an adequate price he ought to pay for the priceless gift bestowed upon him by a mysterious Providence? ... And he found the answer. The only true and real answer which probably had -never been uttered before. The answer — his answer — was: Everything! And he paid just this price, paid it gallantly, graciously, nobly, humbly. His earthly possessions represented a value of one and a half million PENGOES, the equivalent of about 200,000 dollars. Zilahy earned this amount with his writings: with his play, short stories, newspaper articles and film stories. He gave up all this to the last penny: Everything. . With this amount he created a foundation, commemorating the two little children who had died in his house. The purpose of the foundation is to promote the education of poor and deserving children, to be selected vrthout racial or religious discrimination. The committee handling this fund is made up of persons whose integrity end principles guarantee the carrying out of Zilahy’s intentions. In the announcement Zilahy wrote in simple and humble words for the newspapers, he also stated that he could make all that money with his writings only because the present regime of Hungary had made it impossible for a number of writers — “some of them more deserving than I am...” — to take their rightful place in the literary competition Therefore he had felt all along that part of his earnings had not been his rightful share anyway. By making this step Zilahy — in his late forties •— started life anew, possessing nothing but life and within it a serenely contented conscience. The gifts of God. The background of this portrait is not at all pretty. Nazi bayonets and Nazi laws, under the flimsy pretext of friendship. Hungary — although not officially — is under the iron rule of the Nazis. She suffers as much from this forced friendship as the conquered countries, lo talk about racial and religious equality, to manifest humanitarian tendencies in the Hungary of today needs more firm courage and bravery of soul than most men possess. But Zilahy’s soul, steeled by the magnificent Scientists of Peace Medical science has gone far toward eliminating plagues and epidemics. In the middle ages, when populations of entire nations were dying like flies from infectious disease, the cynics derided the men who sought to remove the cause of such malignant evils, knowing that if the cause was not found, the human race stood to perish. War is a plague. It is disease that threatens to destroy mankind. It must be stopped. Idealism alone won't stop it. Like plague, it can only be stopped by science, in this case the science of business relations between nations. Today we have our cynics who declare that war is “human nature.” And since human nature is unchanging, there will always be war. They are no different than the cynics who thought that bubonic plague was a normal and inevitable occurrence. Fortunately, now as always there are men who refuse to believe that the human race is licked. There are men working night and day to remove the cause of war. They are not blinded by illusions or ideals —■ they are scientists in their field. They are the men who believe that through international trade lies permanent peace. Their belief is founded on research and experiment. At present the work of these men is spearheaded by what is known as the Trade Agreements Act. This Act will be before Congress in June for renewal. If it is not renewed, or if it is crippled by restrictive amendments, the hands of the scientists of peace will be tied. The people can have peace if they want it. When the present war is won, there need never be another war. Never again need American men leave the girls they love or the homes and families they cherish to die for “Democracy.” They need not — but they most assuredly will unless this nation wholeheartedly leads the way in re-establishing peace on a practicable basis. That basis is trade. The world will build the future on that basis, or mankind stands to perish from the earth. TO THE CONTRIBUTORS The English Section is published the SECOND and LAST Thursday of every month, except when holidays intervene, and the Fridays IMMEDIATELY preceding them are the final dates. Contributions intended for the June 24th issue should be in before or on June 18th Address contribution to ENGLISH SECTION, VERHOV AY JOURNAL, 345 FOURTH AVENUE, PITTSBURGH, PA. Contributions should be typewritten, if possible; but handwritten contributions are also acceptable. Typewritten Articles: Use one side of paper only, and double space. Contributors please confine articles to 1000 to 1200 words. Handwritten Articles: Make handwriting as legible as possible. A Promise Loud is the cannon’s roar and thunder; Just for a moment, bright is the sky! Then from afar I hear a voice — “Fear not, child, I am still on high.” Now I hear the whine of a bullet As it whistles past me, O, so near! But I clearly hear above that whine A voice, “I am with thee, have no fear.” Childhood scenes flash before my eyes; I recall one, clear as stars above; The memory of a child’s awakening To the fact of a God and of His love! Midst the terrifying noises of warfare, I lift my eyes to our flag unfurled; And remember Christ’s promise: “I am with thee, Even unto the end of the world!” MARGARET “CHRIS” BARA, Branch 66, New Castle, Penna. -----------------V----------------Pearl Harbor Disaster On the seventh day of December, — When grey clouds were hanging low; The Japanese flew the Pacific, And struck Pearl Harbor a blow. This fiendish crime accomplished, Was an inhuman thing to do; With burning hearts we shall reply, And make them pay, and suffer, too. EMMA GENE EVANS, ’ Age 13, Box 244, Pricedale, Penna. gift of God and safe behind the armor of absolute righteousness, is invulnerable. Hungarians all over the world, silently mourning over the Mother-country’s unfortunate associations and worrying over her future, cherish this Portrait of a Hungarian, 1943. It conveys a hopeful message, the code of which is well understood by everyone.
