On a visit to Cape Town, South Africa, in 1999, I telephoned my cousin, Ronnie Levinsohn, whom I last had seen as a child. I was telling him of our visit to Latvia the year before and that we had visited Kuldiga (Goldingen). There we visited the synagogue and the square where the Jews were killed, and we found the monument in the forests where the bodies of the Jews were thrown into a mass grave. I told him that our grandfather, Nissim, was killed on July 1, 1941, and that Dora, our grandmother, and our aunts, Ralla and Rachel, were killed on July 3, 1941. Ronnie asked how I knew, and I responded that a letter had come. When he asked who had written the letter, I said I did not know. After a lengthy silence and some pressure from me, he explained that the letter had come from a boyfriend my mother had when she was very young living in Latvia and that they had a child. A boyfriend I could believe, but I thought he was being malicious about a child. At that time, I made a joke about a possible child.

In May 2001, we visited Vancouver, Canada. One of our first visits was to my aunt, Gwen Hermann Levinsohn (my mother’s youngest brother had been married to Gwen), and we told her the story of our conversation with Ronnie. She told us that Hermann had spoken about Maxim (Maximillian), an adopted baby brother whom he remembered since he was 10 years old when Maxim was adopted. This was the first time in my life, at the age of 73, that I heard the name Maxim.

That week we met Philp Levinsohn, Gwen’s son, and we spoke with Lesley, Gwen’s eldest daughter, who lives in Cleveland, Ohio. This was my first contact with them. After Hermann was killed in a car accident, Uncle Adolph, my mother’s eldest brother (they were not on good terms and we never knew why) was very nice to Gwen, Lesley, and Philip. Lesley was then a teenager, and she was pressing Adolph to tell her about Kuldiga, the family, and particularly Maxim.

The Family Secret

At first he refused, but after a few months,he agreed to tell her the story on one condition—that the boys (my brother and I)—must never know since it was a terrible scandal that could harm us. These were the standards in those days. Lesley told us that Ida (my mother) had an affair with a neighbor, resulting in the birth of Maxim. He was adopted by my grandparents as a son, and Ida was sent—banished—from Latvia to Aunt Ralla Sebba in Cape Town. Ida was 15, and during the next few months, she was introduced to my father; they married and lived in Wellington, a small country town.

Today, I try to imagine the state of mind of a 14- or 15-year-old girl expelled from her loving home and sent on a voyage to England and then from Southampton to Cape Town, which in those days took many months. Her fears, her insecurity, her trials and tribulations must have been traumatic—to say the least. Only now, having heard the story, do I ask many questions. I never ever thought about my mother’s age or how she came and why she was the first to come to South Africa before her brothers. In retrospect, it was because of these circumstances that her life was saved from the Nazis; otherwise, she would have been in the same situation as her two elder sisters who were killed by the Germans.

Gwen remembers that Maxim wrote a letter to Hermann asking him for money so that he could buy a bike for his bar mitzvah. The money was sent, but then the war came, and all contact ceased. After the war, in 1947, Adolph received a letter from Maxim telling him that he had witnessed the death of the family, that he had been saved by a neighbor, and that he had served with the partisans. He had then returned to Kuldiga. He had no one and nothing, and he needed help. He might have written twice.

According to Anita, Adolph’s daughter, her mother, Minnie, wrote twice but never heard further. This is possible, since the Russians took control of Latvia and closed all borders and contact with the West. These letters were destroyed, and no one had any idea whether Max was alive and, if so, where he might be.

So the secret of Maxim that was so successfully kept by everyone, including my Mum, suddenly popped out of the hidden box. Where is he? Can I find him? How do I go about looking for him? These are million dollar questions—and it is like looking for a needle in a haystack, but I made up my mind that it would not be for a lack of trying, and I started a relentless search for my long-lost brother whom I had recently discovered.

I checked with the Jewish Agency, but no one by that name appears on their lists. I checked the population list of Israel without success. I contacted the Hebrew Immigrant Aid society (HIAS) to check their American and Canadian lists in case Max had gone to America. I searched the Internet and wrote e-mails to about 50 Levinsohns. Some replied; three of them were relatives.

I contacted the (Jewish) genealogy site and asked relevant questions. I visited the Archives of Latvian Jewry in Shfayim and found files concerning Kuldiga. Interesting, but no results.

I made contact and visited with Martha Levinsohn-Lev Zion in Beersheva. Her father also came from Kuldiga and went to the United States, but we do not know if we are related. She is an expert on Latvian Jews with emphasis on Jews from Kuldiga.

Searching in Kuldiga

On our last visit to Kuldiga, I had the telephone number of the local tourist office, and I decided to call. A nice woman answered and spoke to me in English. Her name is Daina, and she gave me her home telephone number. She became my Good Samaritan and said she would try and help me find the missing relative. Two days later I telephoned, but she had found no records held by the municipality. She promised to go to the archives, and when I spoke with her a few days later, she had found the birth certificate of Maxim. He was born on November 29, 1924, in Kuldiga. My mother’s name appears, but no father is recorded. The address of the family farm also appears. Daina sent the birth certificate to me and said she would make further inquiries with older people. When I spoke with her a week later, she said that she met a man, a schoolteacher, who claims to have known Maxim for 30 years and that he lived somewhere in the neighboring villages. She was going to put an advertisement in the local newspaper, and she told me to contact her on Friday. At this point, we knew that Maxim had remained in the area, and we had a fair chance of finding him.

It was Thursday night, the end of July, two months after I had heard about Maxim. The telephone rang. My wife Riva answered, told me that I should sit down, and gave me the telephone. A voice said, “My name is Rita Levinsohn. I am Max’s daughter.” I was in shock. I cried—I could not believe it. Rita speaks poor English, which was frustrating since I wanted to know so much. Max had died 10 years earlier of cancer. Rita gave me her youngest daughter Iveta’s telephone number, and when I telephoned her, a new world opened up for me. I realized that I had found our new family. The next morning, I spoke with Daina, who told me that two people had called her concerning the advertisement. They were from the Burkovska family, the family that had adopted Max after his grandparents were killed by the Germans. She also told me that she had telephoned Maxim’s wife, Elena, who lives in the small village of Edole, 16 kilometers from Kuldiga.

My brother Jos and I decided that we must go to Latvia. Iveta became my main contact, and during the next few weeks, I discussed with her our planned visit as well as the many questions about our newly discovered family. They had no idea about us—all they knew was that Max’s mother had run away.

It seems that Maxim hardly spoke about the Levinsohn family; it was too painful for him. He worked as a driver for the local fire brigade and played the saxophone, piano, and accordion. He also had his own band that played at local festivities and parties. Rita, his only child, moved to Riga to study and then married and had two daughters, Ilona and Iveta. Some eight years ago, she divorced her husband who was half Jewish and married Alex, her present husband. Ilona is married to Raymond, and Iveta lives with her boyfriend, Sasha. They all live in Riga. They wanted to know all about us, so I was writing to Iveta daily. She also helped us with our hotel booking, and together we planned our week in Riga.

I was on a high, and we were all very excited with our trip and meeting them in person. I had such a good feeling, and I knew we would be happy with them, but until we met them we could not be certain. As the day of departure became nearer, the excitement grew. On August 27, we were on our way to Riga via Prague, where we landed that Friday afternoon.

Meeting Maxim’s Family

Our meeting was very emotional—tears, kisses, hugs, and simply looking at them and vice versa. Rita and Alex, Ilona and Raymond, Iveta and Sasha, Jos and Diana, Riva and yours truly were overcome with a warm feeling that finally we had met. Unfortunately, Max and Ida, our mother, were missing. Throughout our visit, the fact that my Mum did not have the pleasure of meeting this loving family was on my mind. That night, there was a Friday night dinner at Rita’s place. The atmosphere was warm and loving. The weekend was a getting-to-know-you period, so while touring or dining, many questions were asked and answered by all. A lifetime of events and stories unfolded—they were amazed at all the new relatives they suddenly found, and we were interested in their history and the way they lived.

The three women are beautiful ladies, well dressed and educated. They all work in good positions. Their men too are good-looking and decent people. Life in Latvia is still difficult. Major changes have taken place there since its independence from Russia 10 years ago, but Latvia has a long way to go before it will reach Western standards. The income in dollars is the equivalent of that of a secretary in Riga earning between $150–200 a month, so a couple earning two salaries can manage. The apartments are usually one small room plus a small kitchen, and the buildings are in need of major repair. These are the Russian housing projects. The old central city of Riga is beautiful, with many beautiful buildings, lots of parks, monuments, and shopping areas.

That Monday we all went by a rented minibus to Kuldiga and Edole. We stopped at Kuldiga and visited the synagogue which today is a cinema. Elena was waiting for us in Edole, and meeting with her was emotional. She was Max’s wife and knew him better than anyone else. We were shocked to see that she lived in an old house with four other families and had to fetch water from a pump 100 meters away. The toilet was outside. Her home consisted of one large room plus kitchen that held all her possessions, but it was comfortable and pleasant. A serious discussion took place before lunch with many questions asked by all, with Iveta translating. A key question was why, after Ida had settled in South Africa, she did not try to find Max. It was Riva who came up with the probable answer—that she was told by Adolph, her eldest brother, that everyone including Max had been killed, and with that she decided to block him out of her mind.

Elena prepared a delicious lunch that included many items from her garden. We then went to the cemetery where Max is buried. Elena gave us permission to say kaddish (prayer for the dead) which both Jos and I said. I made a speech telling him how sorry we were not to have met him and what a wonderful family he had. I also asked for his forgiveness if anyone of our family did him harm. It seemed strange when, just before we left, Elena stood in front of the grave and made the sign of the cross.

Then we went to the Levinsohn family farm. Rita knew where it was, since she had visited a friend there without knowing that it had belonged to her great-grandfather, Nissan Levinsohn. The farmer was pleasant and showed us the large old house with its more than 15 rooms. The house was in a mess, most of the rooms being storerooms. This visit was traumatic for us, since this is where my family had lived and where my mother had grown up. The farm is about 16 kilometers from Kuldiga.

It was suppertime and we went to the Edole castle built in 1270, the oldest castle in Latvia. The castle rents rooms, and that is where we stayed that night in a very large comfortable room that cost $15.

The next morning, we toured the castle which has a museum, gallery, and beautiful grounds. My niece told a guide that we were her grandfather’s brothers, and to my amazement, the guide said that she had recognized me. I looked and acted a lot like Max.

We had been invited to visit by the Burkovskas in Kuldiga. The Burkovskas were our grandparents’ neighbors. Their father, Janos, had saved Max from the Germans. Sasha and his sister, Ingrid, as well as Indre, Sasha’s daughter who is a well-known actress in Riga, were there. In fact, Indre came all the way from Riga to meet us. Again it was very emotional. Sasha, who is recovering from a stroke, shed many tears. They were friendly with my grandparents, Nissan and Dora, and my aunts, Lilly and Rachel, so for the first time we were able to ask questions about our grandparents and aunts, questions from the grave. Why didn’t Rachel and Lilly marry? Ingrid said that Lilly had a boyfriend but did not want to marry him. Was the family religious? Sasha said that they were, and they went to the synagogue on the holidays and on Saturdays. Who was Max’s father? Sasha hesitated and said, “Yakobson,” but did not know more. The scandal still haunted them. Photographs were shown, and I chose one that was given to me. It is the day of Maxim’s confirmation showing Max, Janos, his wife and Sasha and Ingrid as children, taken in the summer of 1941.

Having spoken with the Burkovskas, with Elena, Rita, Iveta, and Ilona, as well as with Gethmane, Iveta’s father, and having heard the stories and read the letters received, these are the correct facts of Max’s life, a well-kept secret.

Maxim’s Story

My mother, Ida (Yetta), had an affair with Janos Burkovska, a neighbor. Ida was 14 years old. Maxim, (Maximillian) was born on November 29, 1924. Ida was sent to South Africa, and Max was adopted by Nissan and Dora; Lilly and Rachel raised him. The photographs we have of Max’s childhood are with his two aunts. We know that Hermann, Ida’s youngest brother, was 10 at that time, and he spoke about Max to Gwen. I was friendly with Hermann, who once took me on a week’s business trip to the east coast of South Africa. I remember talking with him about the family, but Max was never mentioned. Hermann and Gwen lived in South Africa, but when Hermann died, Gwen joined her son in Vancouver, Canada.

Max wrote to Hermann and asked for money to buy a bicycle for his bar mitzvah, and the money was sent. Nothing was heard during the war except for terrible rumors about what the Nazis were doing to the Jews. In 1947, a letter, possibly two letters, came from Max to Adolph Levinsohn, my mother’s eldest brother, telling him that Max had survived the war; that Nissan was killed on July 1, 1941; and that Dora, Lilly, and Rachel had been killed on July 3, 1941. Max had been adopted by a neighbor, and he had fought with the partisans. After the war, he returned to the Kuldiga area and said that he was all alone and needed help. He never received a reply from South Africa.

The truth was that when the Germans came, they collected all the Jews and put them in the synagogue in Kuldiga without food and water. Janos Burkovska tried to give food and water to the Levinsohns, but the Germans would not allow this. Burkovska then went to the Gestapo and told them that they had made a mistake since there was a boy, Max, who was not a Jew. He said to them that he was one of us. “He is my son. Look at him; he is a Gentile.” Janos risked his life and angered his wife, who did not want Max.

After two days, the Gestapo agreed to release Max on two conditions: he be confirmed as a Christian and that he be adopted, to which Janos fully agreed. That is how Max’s life was saved. Max stayed with them for a while, but Janos’s wife always blamed Maxim for everything.

Then Maxim was sent to a work camp and, remarkably, was conscripted (he had no choice) into the German Army and was sent to Germany and to Italy. When the war ended in 1945, he was a prisoner of war in Italy. Max returned to the Kuldiga area and was on his own. Times were difficult. The Burkovskas were not helpful, so Max became a driver for the Edole fire brigade. He taught himself to play the accordion, saxophone, and piano; organized a band; and wrote music. His band played at local festivals at the castle, weddings, and other events. He was a popular figure, full of stories and jokes. At one of these functions, he met Elena and married her in 1955. They lived in the house where Elena lives today. Rita was born in this house. At school, she was called a beautiful Jew. She did not know what a Jew was, so she started reading about Jews, and Max confirmed that he was born a Jew. All she knew was that her grandmother (Max’s mother) had run away and that her name was Levinsohn.

Later Rita went to Riga to study. She met Gethmane, whose father was Jewish, married, and had two daughters, Ilona born in 1977 and Iveta born in 1978. Rita divorced Gethmane and, in 1994, married Alex. Ilona married Raymond, and Iveta lives with her boyfriend, Sasha. Max died of cancer in 1991. Today, Elena lives alone in the same house in Edole.

While in Kuldiga, we met Daina, my “Good Samaritan,” and we all went to lunch to celebrate the discovery of our new family. We parted with Elena after emotional good- byes. We returned to Riga exhausted, but happy. We visited the Jewish center in Riga and spoke with the secretary and asked that Janos be recognized as a Righteous Gentile. We understand that they are investigating the facts.

It all ended quickly. The moment of our departure arrived, and we were heartbroken to leave them. We had fallen in love with our new family and wanted more of them. Rita, Alex, Iveta, and Sasha visited us in 2003. We decided to help Elena move to Riga, so she can be with her children and live in better conditions. Money was raised with the help of Lesley, Philp, Jos, and Israel. A suitable apartment has not yet been found, but hopefully it will work out soon.