Biography

I was born on January 21, 1937 in Prešov, Czechoslovakia. To at a time when dark clouds had already gathered in Europe. I felt I hardly got any of it because my parents shielded me from it all. My father was a dentist and my mother a pharmacist. I had a six year older brother. His name was Paul. In my first years of life I have very nice memories. I was very pampered and loved to play with my brother.

 

My parents were horrified when the first deportations began. Since they were classified as economically important Jews, we ourselves were spared for a long time. But my parents planned to flee to Hungary. There were two planning stages: Me and my father should go first. In a second step, my mother will follow with my brother Paul. With forged papers my father and I made it to Budapest. Shortly thereafter, on March 19, 1944, the German Wehrmacht occupied Hungary. My father wrote to my mother a Telegram: "Please don't come". A week after the occupation in Hungary the deportations began. The people who hosted us in Budapest got scared that it was too dangerous for them. So they sent me back. Until I got the papers I was put in a boarding school for the deaf and dumb. I was told that I neither speak nor react to noises. My father stayed in Hungary. We never saw him again. He was shot a few months later, at a great murder operation on the banks of the Danube.

 

My mother continued to work as a pharmacist in Prešov. When she found out that the papers for economically important Jews had lost their validity, she had to start hiding. One day at four in the morning in early November we were discovered by the Gestapo. They arrested us, we were locked up for a week and then deported to the Ravensbrück concentration camp. I stayed with my mother in Ravensbrück. My brother Paul was sent to the men's camp. We never saw him again. Paul died under dire circumstances. It was so horrible that I can hardly speak about it. The most important thing for my mother was that I didn't fall apart so quickly. She kept me very, very, very protected. And in two senses: she signed up for voluntary external work details because there was an extra ration of soup for it. And she kept talking to me and saying I'm going to learn to write, read and count. I learned to read under difficult circumstances. Write less because there wasn't always a pencil and not always something to write on. She also taught me to count. I had learned the whole multiplication table perfectly. My mother said over and over again: You have to remind this because you will need it in your life. This statement was magic. It meant: I will survive.

 

From Ravensbrück we were deported further to Bergen-Belsen. The arrival showed us: There is no hope of surviving here. At our first step in the camp we saw the bodies. Left and right on the floor, in front of the barracks, behind the barracks. They were commanded to remove the bodies. But these people were so weak that they died themselves carrying away the bodies. It was unimaginable.

 

One day no more food was distributed. We realized that the Germans had given up the camp. But the camp remained closed. There was no more electricity and water. Thousands of people remained in the camp without food. Our barracks were near a fire extinguishing basin. There was a lot of water there. But there were corpses floating in it with excrement that left them. People said: You die if you drink from it. Then there were many people who said: I would rather die than endure this thirst. They drank and died. My mother told me not to drink. So I didn't do it. I trusted her. I always did what she said. There were some few people in the camp who had enough strength to climb over the fence. We thought they would go away. But they came back with potatoes. My mom and I couldn't get a hold of potatoes, which is why we got the bowls. We put these potato skins on our lips. That gave us humidity. In the barracks we slept among corpses. In the sleeping quarters there were three floors, and the people on the upper floors could not go anymore down and died there.

 

On April 15 the English came from an escorted American jeep. As best we could, we shouted: “We are free.” At that point we had been without water for eleven days. One human cannot live more than four days without water. We lived eleven days without water. From eleven days unfortunately became thirteen. Because on the day of the liberation there was no water. The British were so shocked and unable to break free. There was no way to offer water to thousands of people. Two days after the liberation tank wagons came with much water. Hoses were rolled out. And then there was enough food.

 

It's hard to say if I processed that. Is it over for me? It is not over. My mother and I haven't talked about the Holocaust for years. It wasn't repression. But we couldn't say, 'Remember, like we starved there?" This time was like from another world. There was nothing to say. There's a reason I don't hate Germans. Months later, after recovering, we rode the train through broken Germany. We saw the tremendous destruction. We were happy and content that Germany was broken. It's not very noble to think like that. But that's how it was. At the end of the journey, the catharsis: It's over. we have suffered and they got what they wanted. They wanted total war. So they had that. So I didn't have to hate anymore.

 

We returned to Prešov. I was in third grade. But my further childhood was marked above all by the fact that anti-Semitism continued to exist. Because people who had betrayed us and enriched themselves from us were still there. In 1949 we moved to Prague. Prague was a liberation. I was interested always for natural sciences, for everything that can be quantified. In Prague I could study chemistry and was happy. Especially in the first three years we learned high quality basic science, thereafter followed a less innovative technological orientation because that would benefit the building of socialism. I was interested in basic research. I met very good people in Prague. And I met my wife there. She was a fellow student. I would observe her in lab work and then criticized something that she made bad. She got angry about the criticism – that's how we fell in love. In 1962 we got married. We have a son. This time of starting a family was very nice. My wife and I always liked to dance.

 

In Naples I did my doctorate in molecular biology in 1967, and we went from there to Germany. In Frankfurt I worked at the Paul Ehrlich Institute. It was about basic research in immunology. Director of the institute at that time was the Dane Niels Jerne. A wonderful personality. Hoffmann-La Roche then offered Jerne to build an institute for him in Basel. He asked me if I would go with him and oversee the establishment of the Basel Institute for Immunology. It was a bit of a cheek, because I didn't have enough experience at the time. But it worked because I had such good support. Niels Jerne went on a journey around the world to find the right people. In a very short time the institute was built and it was absolutely gorgeous. We could do whatever we wanted. 500 scientists conducted research in Basel during all these years. Three of them received a Nobel Prize. We were working on recognizing the production of monoclonal antibodies – the fusion of immune cells and antibodies. On the day of my 65th birthday, the institute was closed. it was a privilege to be able to conduct basic research for 30 years. Then I was offered to continue research at the University Hospital Basel. The offer got me very honored, even if it was without salary. It was good for me because it gave me the freedom to do what I wanted. From 2002 to 2013 I ran a laboratory for Proteomics at the Department of Biomedicine at the University Hospital Basel and I have many publications. To this day I have an office there and enjoy the academic environment.

 

My wife and I visit Prague four times a year. The month of May is most important. The concert season begins then. The opening concert is on May 12th. We never miss that. This concert is good for our soul.