Goose-Liver Smuggler

The somewhat happy summer of 1943 passed, and autumn went by like a cool mist. The last happy winter lasted until March 19, 1944, and included a brief upturn in our fortunes. My father found a new business connection in the big city of Budapest and trained my brother Sandor in the business. They went there together by train.

My father and brother once also delivered a rare delicacy - a pair of kosher, slaughtered ducks to their Budapest contact. They left the train in full confidence with their two brown bags. On their short walk from the train station, they suddenly felt a strong force pulling the bags from underneath their arms. Turning around to catch the thief, they found themselves looking face to face at a uniformed Budapest policeman. As the policeman went on his way without saying a word, they took the clue and did likewise.

The next order of Budapest business fell on me, the merchandise traveling by freight train, myself by third class coach train. My father gave me an additional consignment to take along - a big goose liver packed in parchment paper, hid underneath my shirt. I stood near the outer part of the train on that cold winter day, so that the goose liver would not warm up and drip on my body. I easily found our business contact, an observant Jewish lady who took me to her nearby home where I delivered the goods.

I received a good sum of money for the feathers and goose liver. My whole family was happy and it seemed that our future looked brighter. We earned a much higher profit by dealing directly with Budapest. Encouraged by my business skills, my father decided to buy me a motorcycle. I would have to wear long pants, something unheard of for girls in the Puspokladany Jewish community. Like women's liberation!

© David Muskal, 2001