BERT BOCHOVE TELLS HIS STORY (Continued)
BERT BOCHOVE: The Rodrigues drama was already over when Meyer, the German banker arrived. They brought him in the middle of the night, with his twelve year old son, Gerd. They had caught his wife, and he and Gerd had just barely escaped, so of course we had to take them. The boy was a nervous wreck--he had seen some things that day. He was in such terrible shape, I never did ask him about what had happened.
Meyer was a big, self-confident man, more like a German than a Jew. What I mean is that he had a few of those German qualities that we Dutch never liked. For example, they liked the wife to always walk a step behind them. They are the boss, momma is number two. You still find that a little bit in Germany: the working class poppa who has his glass of beer in the bar before coming home, and momma waiting in the kitchen with everything ready for him. Maybe not in every household, but I think that was common, even among better educated people, though in a more refined way. I found that out about Meyer.
In '33, when Hitler started pestering the Jews, Meyer was smart enough to take his money and possessions and move his family to Amsterdam, where he went into banking. But business was too good, and he forgot to go to America before it was too late. They went underground in a small town about an hour by bicycle from our place, and had been living there, under very hard circumstances, until they came to us.
Having Meyer in the house was not easy. Pretty soon he was in trouble with everyone, but especially with Ans, the old maid. She irritated him. Ans was a very good person, but a bit cranky, and somewhat easy to upset. Meyer was more or less a gentleman, but he was used to having things his way, so he and Ans had a lot of battles. They couldn't stand each other. I didn't see much of this because I was always in the store during the day, but Ans had complained to me about him. Then one day Meyer said to me, "This cannot go on much longer, Mr. Bochove. That woman has got to go."
"Wait a moment. You have money. It will take half a day to find a place for you." For money, you can always find people to help. "It will be much harder to find a place for Ans."
"Well, then I will have to go."
We found a place for Meyer and Gerd with a grocery storekeeper, a nice man, but without much character. He did what "momma" said, and she was a stinker. In Meyer, she saw money. They let him pay them very well, and kept them in a tiny room upstairs where they had to be completely quiet. If they made any noise at all, a warning knock immediately came from downstairs. Meyer also had to work in the cellar to help the man restock his store.
That cellar was filled with cheese and all kinds of extra food. The storekeeper was not to blame for that; people were hoarding, but Meyer and Gerd got none of it. Every three days they came back to us, after dark when they could go out for a walk, and we stuffed their pockets with sandwiches. Otherwise they would have starved to death. The storekeeper and his wife were orthodox Christian people, but they fed them practically nothing. I was so mad recently because everybody wants to say now that this man behaved well, but I cannot see it. After the war I wanted to make a bit of publicity about him, but Meyer, who had stayed with them until the end of the war, said please don't do it. Maybe they were mean, but they had saved his and Gerd's lives.
The underground was pretty good at directing people to our house; there were always strangers coming in. One time they brought an old couple, very quiet, very Jewish, the type that cannot eat your food--strictly kosher. Their stay was short, only one night, but they left a big impression on me. I remember them because I got a strong feeling that these people gave themselves up. Many Jews don't believe that that happened.
I know a Jewish man who wrote a wartime story about his mother. His father was already dead, and she was living alone in a small place. When her son went to see her she told him she was going to give herself up. He talked her out of it, but when he came back later on, she was gone. Living in a small community with well behaving people, everyone knows you; you always have someone with a sympathetic ear to turn to. When she had to go out of circulation, she couldn't handle it. She gave herself up and ended in a concentration camp.
Kets de Vries: The Bochoves hid the parents of a man named Kets de Vries, who was a Dutch Jew, raised in Germany, and married to a Christian German. His marriage and textile business gave him a certain degree of protection during the Nazi occupation. As long as it supplied German needs, he was allowed to keep his large mill in operation. He was often seen on the streets of Huizen, wearing a yellow star.
BERT BOCHOVE: Kets de Vries was an important person. He knew how to do everything the right way, and he was very involved. After the war, I got the feeling that certain people knew all along what I was up to, but Kets de Vries was the only one that I recognized as such at the time.
His parents were up north in Friesland for a long time before they came to our house. They were in their seventies, old fashioned people. Sometimes I joked with his father, a simple man.
"You are a tailor." I said, "How did you get that expensive name?"
"Oh, I just have it."
It doesn't mean anything in another language, but in Dutch it's a venerable old family name. He showed me his papers, false of course, but with a genuine picture.
"Look. I am not Jewish looking. I can go out."
We always tried to keep him in the house. He was a certain type you could say absolutely was a Jew. At night, if the situation was normal, he could walk to his son's house, but sometimes he would wander out to the beach in the middle of the afternoon.
"Uncle Karel," I said, "I know you don't look Jewish, but you are not so young anymore. Why should you go out?" Then he gave up.
Even though we were living in the same house, we didn't see too much of them. They led a quiet life. Sometimes Karel came more or less to the surface, and told Jewish jokes and kept things going a little, but Sarah was never happy. Her type is not easy to live with, and Kets de Vries knew it. He wanted them to stay up north where they had a good place, but she was old and wanted to be close to her son and relatives, so they came to my already-full house. It didn't help with the so-called harmony. She didn't bother me much, but it was hard on the other people, and they were depending on me to keep the peace.
She was one of the champion sufferers of the world. I think she felt good when she could complain, mainly about herself, about her suffering, things like that. That caused trouble for the other people; they really didn't need it. There was no one in the house who had not lost parents or children, and they did not want to bring it up all the time. They had enough dealing with their own struggles. I could see that there was less suffering when Sarah was not around, but she and Karel stayed until the end. It wasn't easy.