When Holocaust survivor Eddy Wynschenk told his story to a church youth group in San Bruno last month, some unexpected visitors joined the audience.
As it turns out, they hadn’t come to hear Wynschenk’s story of internment in Auschwitz, of losing his entire family, of having his frostbitten toes amputated without anesthesia.
They had come to deny it.
As soon as the five men stood and began declaring Wynschenk’s story a hoax, however, audience members stopped them dead in their tracks.
“The kids stood up roaring, roaring, roaring,” recalls Wynschenk, who during 25 years of sharing his story has never been confronted by Holocaust deniers. “Eighty kids, as if on cue, stood up and said [to the hecklers], `Shut up, get out of here.'”
The young audience then went a step further, initiating a resounding chorus of “Eddy, Eddy, Eddy” that left the 69- year-old survivor feeling both immensely supported and certain that the youngsters “don’t accept hatemongers.”
The “Eddy chant” may be among the most dramatic responses a local survivor has gotten from a young audience. Still, most survivors who address high schools and youth groups say their listeners have offered them support and appreciation they will never forget.
After survivor René Molho of Alameda shared his dramatic story at Newark Memorial High School, students there made him an elaborate quilt decorated with images of hope and life — a peace sign, flowers, a black hand and a white hand entwined. The multicolored piece hangs proudly on a wall in Molho’s home.
He also has shoeboxes filled with letters of thanks and empathy from students; many other survivors have the same.
“If you would see the letters I have — way over 1,000 letters,” says survivor Helen Farkas of Burlingame, who has spoken in schools since 1974.
In the correspondence, young people “say how much they have learned from me,” Farkas says.
“They say they will never forget. They say they have never seen a survivor and how privileged they are. I have such a selection, you could sit here for a day and read them.”
Over the years, Farkas has received other tokens of appreciation from students, as well — bouquets of flowers, for example, and boxes of candy. Sometimes, students bring their cameras and ask to have their pictures taken with Farkas.
“They are so curious, you won’t believe it. They want to know,” she says. “In all the years I have been going to schools I have never had any other response but respect. Not once have I been disappointed in them.”
Adrian Schrek, education coordinator at the Holocaust Center of Northern California — which reaches some 25,000 students a year through its speakers’ bureau — says Farkas’ words reflect the experience of a majority of survivors who share their stories with young people.
“Ninety-nine percent of the time, the response is absolutely terrific,” she says.
“Students are incredibly empathetic. Having a real person tell their story in an intimate way really touches the students in a way no book or reading can do.”
Of course, not all students embrace the survivors and their stories. Some have been raised with preconceived notions of Jews and other minorities, or have been taught that the Holocaust did not happen.
Survivors who visit schools “really open themselves up to whatever the students are going to throw at them,” Schrek says. “How do you deal with issues of denial or things that might be sensitive to the survivors?”
Sometimes, survivors find themselves able to correct misconceptions. Other times, as in Wynschenk’s recent confrontation, they simply deal with deniers the best way they know how.
“I kept my cool. I was very calm,” Wynschenk says of being heckled in San Bruno recently.
“I called them enemies of humanity. I got a lot of energy from them. Finally I could confront them. Fifty-two years ago, I never had the chance.”