Whippany—The first impression felt upon arriving at Rosalie and Sol Spierer’s apartment is one of total warmth—the temperature is nice and cozy on a frigid February day, and the Spierers radiate a warmth of spirit as they greet their visitor. Sitting in a sunlit computer space, surrounded by family photos, Sol tells his story, a heroic tale spanning almost 30 years—a story of life, loss, and love. A story about his childhood in Poland, his struggles for survival in Siberian labor camps, and his new life in America—and how he repeatedly used his wits to survive.
Spierer was born in Horodenka, Poland on May 1, 1923. (Now in northwestern Ukraine, in what used to be Galicia, Jewishgen.org says “the first documentation of organized Jewish life dates to 1743, when Jewish merchants from the town are recorded among the visitors to the International Fair in Leipzig, 1739–1748. Documents of the period 1870–1927 show that the percentage of Jews in the overall population of the town ranged between 33% and 40%. …In 1941 and 1942, during three separate ‘Actions,’ German military units and Ukrainian auxiliaries rounded up and murdered over 3,000 adults and children from Horodenka and the surrounding area.” [from Sefer Horodenka])
Life in Sol’s early years was pleasant and predictable. The Jews in his town were tradesmen and artisans. He was an apprentice to his father, a tinsmith, who sent him to Jewish school where the students were encouraged to move to Mandate Palestine to rebuild the Jewish state.
Before World War II, Spierer had already experienced antisemitism, but not often. Jewish shop windows were occasionally broken and Jews were sometimes attacked—and had their peyes cut off. After the Anschluss with Austria in 1938 and the Night of Broken Glass, when Jews were expelled to Poland, stories about concentration camps and mass murder of the Jews began to circulate, but local Jews were in denial. Then in September 1939 bombs fell on Horodenka and destruction was everywhere. “That was the first time I realized that we were in a war and that planes can kill and destroy,” he said.
Days later, the Soviet army arrived and claimed all businesses for the regime. When Spierer’s father did not tell the authorities he owned a business, he was arrested and thrown in jail. Spierer never saw him again.
In the middle of a dark night, April 13, 1940, the NKVD, the Soviet secret service, came banging on the door of Sol’s home, gave the family an hour to pack, and took them to a train station where they were loaded into cattle cars. After two days, 80 box cars overflowing with scared, unwashed, freezing, and starving refugees left the station for destinations unknown. The Spierer family was the only Jewish family in the wagon. There was no bathroom, no water, and no food. They were guarded by the NKVD and the Red Army. They did not reach their destination until late May, 1940. “It was very cold, there was a lot of snow on the ground, and everything was frozen.”
This was not a frigid winter in New Jersey. This was Siberia in May. The boxcar doors clanged open and people tumbled out, forced to walk until they reached their new home—a slave labor camp. His life again became predictable. If you worked, you were fed bread and cabbage soup. If you did not work, you did not eat. Many people died of hunger, cold, and illness. Though all were suffering, the Spierers were subjected to taunts on top of privation. Once again they were the only Jews in the group, sharing barracks with Poles and Ukrainians who called the Spierers “lousy Jews” and worse.
“Every day became like a year and we lived from day to day [and] only waited…to get that [food],” said Spierer.
One day Spierer helped a Polish truck driver whose vehicle had broken down. He knew nothing about trucks, but he was handy with tools and was a quick learner. Together, the two easily repaired the vehicle, so Sol requested to be assigned to help the driver. His wish was granted with a warning—if he tried to escape, his mother and sister would be shot. Such threats were the new normal.
As time passed, Spierer learned how to repair cars and trucks. To hide the fact he was Jewish, he told the driver his name was Semion Michailovich. When the truck finally choked out its last breath, Spierer was sent to Semipalatinsk, Kazakhstan to get the motor repaired. He didn’t know then that he would stay there until 1945. The Soviets put him to work at the Gorky Automobile Zawod (Factory), where he repaired trucks and went to school. As he learned, he began offering suggestions to help the factory function more efficiently. He was intelligent and hardworking, and was rewarded with additional salary or bits of food. But every day he was tortured by fear for his mother and Sara, who were still suffering in Siberia.
Then came the day a Soviet colonel announced to the workers that Germany would soon be defeated. The next day Spierer was called to the factory manager’s office. “I was scared,” he remembered. “I was always scared. I had not felt secure since they took me away from home in the middle of the night and put me on a train to Siberia.” His fears were unfounded. He was informed that his family would be brought to Semipalatinsk. It took over a year, and finally the family was reunited.
“After so much suffering, I could not believe what was happening. I now believed there is a God who cares for His people,” said Spierer.
Once the war was over, the Spierers left Kazakhstan in 1946 to look for their father and husband, Moshe. For the first time since the war began, they spoke to other Jewish people. They heard the horror stories about the gas chambers, saw numbered tattoos on forearms, realized that the concentration camps had been real, and were forced to admit that Moshe was dead. They never found evidence of him after he was taken away.
By then, the State of Israel had been declared. “The Jews [all] over the world were very happy that after 2000 years there [was] a Jewish state, and all the Jewish people who want to [go there] could come and live in Israel,” said Spierer. Jews were now free to travel.
While Spierer wanted to help build a Jewish nation, he knew it was time to go to America.
In early 1949, Spierer got his visa to the United States. He did not want to leave his family, but knew he needed to settle in America himself and then send for them. He left Europe for the first and last time in November, 1949, on a military ship headed for New York City.
He was met by his Aunt Goldie, with whom he was to live in the Bronx. He immediately picked up the Jewish Daily Forward to find a job, and the next morning took the subway to Astoria, Queens and became an auto mechanic. Spierer thought his $30 per week salary meant he had found the gold-paved streets of America.
Six months later, Spierer rented an apartment and brought his mother to America. Eventually, he brought Sara and her new husband to the United States as well. He left his job and began repairing cars on his own until he was able to purchase a repair station. He sold it when he realized that it was tough to get a date if your eau de cologne was gasoline.
In March 1955 he went on a date with Rosalie Rosenblatt and the two were married on November 13. Once New Yorkers and, later, Floridians, they now live in the Lester Senior Housing apartments, so they can be closer to their children. Spierer spent much of his early life fighting for survival—his own, his mother’s, Sara’s—and learned many things along the way. He learned enough to come to a country where he didn’t speak the language or know the culture and create a life for himself. He learned enough to own several successful businesses. He learned enough to feel satisfied with yet another type of predictability—security.
“We were never rich, we were never poor. We had a home and food to eat. Life has been good.”
By Jill Kirsch
