Two Paths, One Friendship: Memories of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution

Laci Szabó and József Leitner were good friends during the 1956 revolution in Hungary, yet the events took their lives in very different directions; the question of whether to stay or leave ultimately determined the course of their futures. Although their paths diverged and they drifted apart, both found what they were looking for, and their friendship remains deeply alive in their hearts. Now, at 87, they eagerly await the day they can meet again. The following recollections present two parallel life journeys — two perspectives, two paths, which even distance could not separate.

Interview with László Szabó

We first recall the life of László Szabó, who has now lived in New Zealand for 67 years. He left his homeland after the 1956 revolution and found a new home far away, in a world that was then unfamiliar to him. He speaks about his childhood memories, the impact of the revolution, his escape, the challenges of a new beginning, and how he built a life in New Zealand, where he eventually found a home.

How long have you lived in New Zealand?

I have lived here for 67 years. I left Hungary when I was 18.

Let’s go back to your roots. Could you tell us a little about your childhood and youth in Hungary? What memories do you keep from that time?

It was tolerable. I had no problems, a simple life. I played sports, football, I neglected studying a bit, didn’t pay much attention in class, but I always longed to go abroad. The revolution gave me the opportunity.

In the fall of 1956, history changed overnight. How do you remember the outbreak of the revolution? What were your days like then?

I graduated from teacher training in 1956, and if I had stayed in Hungary, I would have taught grades 1–4. I was sent to Kisigmánd to teach lower-grade students. My supervisor, who was twenty-four at the time, taught upper-grade students in another building. When I entered the classroom with forty-two children waiting for me, I had no idea where or how to start as a beginner teacher. Inspectors came every week to observe what I was teaching. At first, I didn’t even know about the revolution because it was a very small village in Komárom County, and news didn’t spread quickly.

There was a small building in the village taken over by the Communist Party; offices were on the lower floor, bedrooms above, and I was housed there as well. On the roof was a microphone used to broadcast propaganda to the village. One day, while preparing to go to school, I heard about the massacre at the Chain Bridge from the microphone. At first, I thought it was about 1847. Later, my supervisor came to me at the school and asked me to send the children outside because he wanted to speak with me. He told me there was a revolution in Hungary and asked if I knew about it. I replied: no. Then he asked if I wanted to go abroad, to which I, of course, said yes.

In the countryside, the revolution was experienced differently than in Budapest. Could you feel it in the village? What did you tell the children?

I called the children back from the yard and sent them home, telling them not to come to school until further notice because by then there had already been bombings in other parts of the country. Fortunately, this was a small village, so the revolution had no effect here at that time.

What was your plan? Where did you go?

We traveled home to Esztergom with my supervisor, where four friends and I decided to leave the country. By then it was November 16, 1956. As a child, during school breaks, I worked at a place where we delivered vegetables to stores in Komárom County. Joseph, the father of Petra Lipóth, and I met there while moving potatoes. We were really popular, young, strong men. The drivers were fighting over who could get us. So anyway… (Josephine: Laci, Hungarian!) — oh yes! We were figuring out how to start our journey. One day, under the pretense of delivering vegetables, we got permission to travel to Győr. That was the last city; after that, we couldn’t go further. So we went to Győr, unloaded the vegetables, and since I was a teacher, we got an apartment and stayed there for one night. We talked to some people, and one of them offered to take us to the border. We took the opportunity and crossed the border on November 17. József, however, did not come with us.

Leaving the country was a life-threatening venture for many. What was crossing the border like?

We had to cross a small bridge; there were two ÁVH (State Protection Authority) officers — we shook hands and said goodbye. This was November 17. I think the Communist government allowed those who disagreed with communism to leave the country. We arrived in a small village in Austria. I only had toothpaste, a toothbrush, and what I was wearing, nothing else. The little money I had, we gave to the border guards.

Did you do this alone or with friends?

There were four of us.

Austria was the first stop for many refugees, but New Zealand is very far. How did you get there?

After crossing the border, we arrived in a small village. A lady came up and started talking to us. Luckily, I knew a little German and explained that we were refugees. She took us in for the night and helped us get to Vienna the next day. We walked along the streets; people drank espresso and soda water, and then the police came and asked us to move along. We went to the police station, where they gave us shelter in prison because there were 19 of us. They treated us as if we had done something wrong and took our fingerprints. We spent two days in prison and were then sent to Traiskirchen, where three to four thousand Hungarians lived. We stayed there a while before going to the embassy in Vienna to request refugee status. Many countries offered to take Hungarian refugees. We were first interviewed to see what kind of people we were. Then they needed two weeks to check with the Hungarian government for any criminal record. In the meantime, they gave us a certificate that allowed me to buy some clothes because I had nothing.

Many did not know where they were going. Did you already know New Zealand would be your new home?

No. I first applied to Argentina (for football) and England. I didn’t want to go to America alone. In the camp near Vienna, word spread that I was a teacher, and many asked me about the world. My favorite subject was geography, so I could recommend places to go. As a child, I collected stamps, and on the stamps of the South Pacific were palm trees, hula girls, beautiful flowers. But I knew I wouldn’t find work on these islands, so I thought I’d go to New Zealand, far from Hungary, and applied there.

What was the journey from Vienna to New Zealand like?

The New Zealand government rented two small propeller planes with 105 seats. The journey took six days because we had to stop multiple times for fuel and inspections. We flew from Vienna to Italy, then to India, where a maharaja heard Hungarian refugees had arrived and invited us for dinner. He took us to his palace, served tons of food, and I almost got sick from all the spices. Then we stopped in Singapore and Darwin, and finally arrived in Auckland on March 1, 1957.

Arriving in a completely new world couldn’t have been easy. Did you know anyone on the plane, or was everyone a stranger? What did you do after landing?

We were strangers to each other. A friend who had been here for two months knew we were coming and sent a letter telling me to ask to go to New Plymouth when I landed. That’s what I did. With the Red Cross’s help, I took a bus to New Plymouth. There were thirty of us on the bus; the driver announced over the speaker that a Hungarian refugee was with us. Everyone came over and gave me all sorts of things; they were very helpful.

Language barriers must have been a major challenge. Did you speak English then? If not, how did you communicate?

I didn’t know English, only “yes” and “no.” I had a small dictionary; I looked up words and pointed to them. I never formally learned English; I learned it at work and through conversation. I worked as a waiter and learned a lot of words there.

What jobs did you do over the years?

In New Plymouth, I first worked as a laborer, tending a girls’ school garden — digging and concreting. During breaks, the girls came out, surrounded me because I was a Hungarian refugee, which made me interesting to them. I had sideburns, and they said I looked like Elvis Presley. I also worked as a waiter in several places, which I had experience with, helping my grandfather serve guests at a pub in Dorog as a child. After five years, I got citizenship, then went to Australia to explore, visiting surrounding countries and small islands. I returned to New Zealand and met my wife Josephine in 1967 at a café called ‘Trojka,’ where I worked. She was a student helping in the kitchen for the summer. In 1977, I joined the New Zealand airline kitchen as a dishwasher. One day, my boss asked if I could cook. I said yes and cooked a chicken paprikash, which amazed them. The next day, the head chef asked if I wanted to train as a cook; I said yes. I studied cooking at university for two years. I started at the bottom of the kitchen hierarchy and gradually worked my way up. Working for the airline allowed me to travel to Hungary many times for a fraction of the cost.

Finally, a more personal question: does the word “home” mean Hungary or New Zealand to you?

New Zealand.

Fanni Csényi

KCSP scholarship holder

My Youth Story with Laci Szabó

Now from the perspective of Dr. József Leitner, a story of a special friendship and the challenges of the 1950s.

We successfully finished at Red Star Elementary School. Laci went to Teacher Training, I went to high school. Those were wonderful years! We never got bored during summer breaks — we worked every summer. Not for fun, because we were poor. The Mezőker (Vegetable) company gave us jobs. Our bosses were Comrades Rábgéber and Horváth — Horváth was the fairer one. Usually around 3–4 a.m., Laci came for me. We remained good friends because we were humble, devoted only to learning. One year, we didn’t even fail! I hated the electric bell because Laci rang it to start our day. We went to the Great Plain for goods in a Csepel truck. One of us sat by the driver, the other on the cargo bed — sometimes we switched. On the way back from Kecskemét, I often slept at the end of the crates, lying on my side. Once, one arm hung off the back. They were frightened and stopped the truck, thinking someone had been crushed by the crates. But it was just a dream. Once, we got a truckload of pumpkins. We sold them to Mrs. Kapros and got zip-up, checkered shirts. The best memory, however, is that we never quarreled. In 1956, we tried our luck abroad. After Győr, I got off the truck to study PE at the Hungarian University of Physical Education. That’s why I spent my life in sports. Laci Szabó went another way, arriving in New Zealand. I understand he was initially a cook at an airport and later did other work, living a successful life. Now, in the later stage of middle age (87), we very much want to meet again in Hungary with Laci and his family.

Dr. József Leitner (Papa, Dudus) recollection