Local Holocaust survivor shares story

Rita and Tomas Kovar The local Jewish community marked Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) earlier this week with ceremonies, candle lighting and memories.

Holocaust survivor Tomas Kovar, 78, of Newbury Park shared his childhood memories of the war years. He believes he survived because of his father's occupation as a farmer.

The family lived on a farm in Slovakia, a central European country bordered by Poland, Austria and other countries.

His father oversaw wheat and tobacco crops for the owner, who didn't know much about farming. When war broke out, Kovar's father was retained because the farm was profitable. Unlike other Jews who had to wear large yellow Stars of David on their sleeves, Kovar and his family wore small stars to symbolize their value as successful farmers.

"We felt terrible because while we were saved, others were picked up for concentration camps," Kovar said.

When the Germans invaded, Kovar's family had to leave the farm. Kovar's mother obtained false identification papers from a Jewish school. The family name was Kohn but was changed to Blajo, a Slovak name. Since Kovar was only 7 years old, his mother kept reminding him not to mention the Kohn name.

"It was very risky," Kovar said. "Times were bad."

The family escaped through mountains, following partisans who were running from advancing Germans. When they reached the top, the family found other Jews hiding.

"The Germans were flying above looking for people," Kovar said. "I didn't understand what was going on. I just knew I had to hide."

In their escape the partisans left clothing, food and ammunition that nearby residents came to steal. Kovar's father approached one man and offered to pay him in exchange for hiding the family. The man had to ask his wife and said he'd be back. He returned with two brothers-in-law and said they would hide the Kovars and two other families. They came down the mountain and there was a feast awaiting their arrival.

"It was like a banquet," Kovar said. "Everyone ate except my mother. She didn't want to give up being kosher so she had vegetables and milk."

Kovar's mother cooked and cleaned the family's house. No one worked; there was no school. His father spent most of the time hiding with other Jewish men in the woods. When the Germans came to search the house, Kovar's mother hid, sometimes in a cellar whose door was hidden beneath a carpet.

The homes Kovar and their friends were hiding in weren't the only ones harboring Jews. Almost every house in town was hiding somebody, recalled Kovar.

"We knew nobody would turn anybody in. The town was occupied by Germans and they would've blown the whole town up," Kovar said.

The Germans knew there were Jews because during periodic searches they found people hiding and killed them.

The family hiding the Kovars raised their price several times. Kovar recalled walking to another town to ask someone they knew for a loan.

When the Russians arrived, Kovar's father helped them locate German soldiers in hiding. They were shelled and killed. The town was liberated.

The Kovars returned to their farm home but everything had been stolen. Friends and neighbors helped them. The farm owner allowed Kovar's father to run the farm again. Concentration camp survivors, including some of Kovar's extended family, came through on their way back to their hometowns. Six months later a pogrom took place after Slovaks made up a story that a Jewish doctor was killing innocent children. Kovar and his parents escaped and hid in another town.

"We would've been killed if we had been there," Kovar said. "After we came back, my father said 'I don't want to stay here.'"

The United States was not an option due to immigration quotas, so the family applied for visas to Chile, where they had relatives. When they left at the end of 1947, they took with them a Torah scroll, one of three saved by a local priest from the burned synagogue in town. Two other Jewish families took the other Torahs.

Kovar's family again changed their name-this time to Kovar.

"My father didn't want a Jewish name," Kovar said.

The family took a boat from France to Argentina, but Juan Peron, Argentina's president, wouldn't allow them to disembark until the train to Chile arrived. Enclosed trucks took the Jews directly to the train.

"We were like prisoners," Kovar said. "We weren't free until we came to Chile."

Kovar returned to school. His father farmed for awhile, then opened a meat market. Kovar became a fireman, married and had three children. His family left for California in 1966 when new leadership in Chile threatened to bring communism. Kovar's parents followed shortly after.

Kovar worked various jobs before opening a Hallmark store in Thousand Oaks and then another in Newbury Park. He ran those stores for many years before selling them.

In 1991 he returned to his birthplace and found the house where he'd been born. He also found the house of the family that had hidden him and his parents. The wife, now elderly, still lived there and remembered Kovar as a boy. Even the cellar where Kovar's mother had hidden was still there.

"Nothing had changed," Kovar said.

Although the woman hadn't been kind, Kovar credits her with saving his family.

"If it wouldn't be for her, we wouldn't be alive," Kovar said.

Kovar works as an interpreter for Spanish workers through a workers' compensation agency. His wife, Rita, is a facilitator for Conejo Valley Unified School District, assisting Spanish-speaking students with English. The couple has grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Kovar often speaks to school groups about the war. "I want them to know this is a

history that happened," said Kovar, who's been interviewed by Steven Spielberg's Shoah Foundation. "A lot of people don't believe it. It happened to me. It's the real thing."