BELA CRKVA

Children's Home

(Decji Dom)

Father finally got transfer from the federal police to a civilian job, however, for whatever reason, he was transferred to a town in Banat, part of the Danube Province (Dunavska Banovina). The Province was comprised  fully  of Vojvodina, which was a province of Austro-Hungarian Empire, before World War I. Father was appointed Economic Manager (ekonom), responsible for all phases of operations involving purchasing and general accounting. In the picture is my father walking with the Director of the Orphanage, his name was Majstorovic and was a former priest. The song that you hear was made up by the orphans, it talks about the supper, bread cheese and potatoes.  

Bela Cekva is a town in the extreme South Eastern corner of the Province, as shown in the map below. The year was 1928, I did not start the school as yet. Father went ahead, and one nice summer day, Mother and I followed. We traveled by train, there were no plane, bus or car rides in those days. In Zagreb (Croatia) , we had to wait overnight at the train station. There was bad train collision  on the track between Zagreb and  Belgrade. The accident was bad, so the exact time could be determined by the record.

The children's home (actually orphanage)  was in a large complex of buildings with the main section in the middle built in the form of letter 'U'. there were all bedrooms, study room, a large auditorium, also our family living area. The whole complex was surrounded by a brick 2 meters wall. The re were 2 main entrances, large vehicle size double doors and there was  a small door in one of the walls. I had hard time claiming on the wall. The yard on one side of the building served as play ground with claiming poles, gymnastic bars, claiming ropes, sand boxes for long jumps. Also at the back of the yard, my mother had a fairly large, fenced off,  chicken and other bird area. In those days I had a little gosling that accompanied me where ever I went. On the street side of the yard was a young orchard, nicely organized with walks in between the trees.  On the far side of the yard was an other wall hard to clime on and on the other side was a large orchard which I occasionally visited, when nobody could see me. Most delicious plums, pears and apples were the price for my boldness. 

The yard on the opposite side of the main building held service buildings, kitchen, employees and children dinning rooms, store rooms  and living quarters of the caretaker Stosa a czarist Russian emigrant with two daughters and a sun. That is how I started learning Russian language. Bela Crkva was the staging point for the czarist fighters who were pushed out of their country by the Bolsheviks. They were hoping to return soon back home. They never did. Just like 50 odd years later happen to us. The Russians had high school called Korpus for their young man. The girls attended high school called Institute. I recall playing with two boys of my age, Misha and Sasha Tolstojs, grand nephews of the writer Tolstoj. Their father was enlisted into Royal Yugoslav artillery as a high officer. Russians were known for their knowledge of artillery. 

I don't remember much of those early days. Climbing on the pole in the playground yard of the establishment. Also, trying to exercise on the high bar (something like the 'monkey bars', Sasha would know all about it!) Mom and I went on long walks through the surrounding hills around the town. In the picture we are in a vineyard. Later, when I made friends with Milivoj and Gadola, I went around on my own. Milivoj was a friend from the school, he was a Serb from Bela Crkva. His family was poor, rich people did not have anything to do with us from the Orphanage.  He and I went on long walks along the railway tracks fishing with improvised fishing poles, generally enjoying the beautiful summer days. The other friend Gadola, was a Gipsy from the Orphanage, he was not allowed to go out of the orphanage, so we were playing within its walls. There was one more friend I had for a short period of time, in the orphanage  people called him 'trbusko', one with a big stomach. He was about a year and a half old hunchback, no one else would play with him, they were all older. One day he did not come out to play any more, I suppose he died. I missed him. 

When I was 6 or 7 years old I went to the first holly communion and received a certificate to that respect.  Religious ceremonies were serious and respected events in those days. I think the town was influenced by a large proportion of prosperous German population.  The picture to the left was take at the Corpus Christi procession in 1937. My father is in the right side. Most of those gentlemen were likely orthodox Serbs, army officers and all. I recall people talking, that even Jewish homes had candles in the windows. It was a big event.

St George's day (Dzurgevo)  was a big day! All schools, as a matter of fact, all citizens went out of town to celebrate. There were piglets being barbequed, wine and songs. It was the day when the rebels against the Turks went back to the mountains. Also, around that time the school made excursion to the Danube, about 10 km from Bela Crkva. We were traveling on farm wagons and had a great time. I remember getting special treats, like soft cheese wrapped in  silver paper. I still like it. We usually went swimming in the river Danube. 

River Nera was just across on the Romanian side of the border. Somehow, Milivoj and I managed get to Nera and swam across. Once on the other side, being hidden, we spotted a Romanian border guard. This made for a very exciting adventure. We quickly  retreated to the safety on the other side of the border.      

The town was surrounded by hills, full of vineyards. That is where my friend Milivoj and I had most frequent escapades. Once we broke in summer cottage in a middle of a vineyard, which we declared to be haunted. It was a nice place away from home for people who owned it. The 'mystery' ended up peacefully, not like when we went picking and eating grapes. While we were absorbed in sweet grapes, a protection guard 'sneaked' up on us. He had a rifle. Milivoj rolled down the hill like a rabbit and disappeared, while an other friend and I stood nailed to the ground. So we got 'arrested' ! On the way from the hill to town, we 'negotiated', terms of surrender. We will never, never do it again! The man got softened up and let us go. On an other occasion a group of us went cherry picking on a large cherry tree in an orchard outside of town. When someone yelled 'guard', we dropped of the tree like ripe apples in a heavy wind, and ran in all directions. No one was caught. 

At about that time I started silk worm business (about 7 years old). A screen about 1/2 meter by 1 meter, in a frame, served for feeding ground for the worms. I front of the Orphanage complex was a large park, a lot of old trees, and to one side of the park, across the road, was silk producing factory. They supplied us with the initial culture of silk worms. I had to provide leaves from the linden tree, food for the worms They eat voraciously, and grew fast. When they were of the right size, approximately 2 inches long by 1/2 inch diameter, they would attach them self to screen and produce cocoons, the source of silk. These we would take to the factory and sell them. Through process the cocoons were exposed to heat that would burn the inside, future butterfly. In the next stage the silk was spun off the cocoon and sold. Milivoj and I, in our exploits, established  that there was a window to a room where there were piles of cocoons. A bright idea occurred to us, clime through the window, get the cocoons and sell them to the factory.  It did not quiet work, the cocoons were to light and they new that these cocoons where already burned . Apart from being embarrassed, Milivoj and I retracted our steps and left without payment for our efforts.  That is how I was making silk.  We were then about 7 years old business people.

'Gang' wars!  My brother Oto was5 years older, he was a big boy, compared to my friends. We had our neighborhood gang  and Oto was the leader , that never bothered me, I was even proved of him. In the large park across from the  main  orphanage building, and adjacent to the railway tracks, was a deep ditch, some kind of watershed. In that ditch we had our headquarters and a fort guarded by a large arch and bows. We had fights with the 'gang' from across the town. There were no 'causalities' that I can remember. My mother and father never new of our activities, or at least that is what I thought! 

I those days we red blue covered books, portraying all kinds of adventure, like Karl Majs  The Last of the Mohawks, Vinetu, Treasure Island, Black Beard Pirate, etc.  Milivoj and I were often in the bookstore checking what is new. On one occasion when looking at new books, I had to go to washroom badly, there was no washroom. I was very embarrassed when a puddle appeared on the floor. Milivoj never mentioned it to anyone! That is the kind of friend was Milivoj.    

School! I believe the beginning of my schooling efforts were in Bela Crkva . The picture to le left is grade 1. I think, I am the fellow in the middle in sailors uniform. There were 10 kids from the orphanage. Lying on the left is my friend Gadola (Gipsy)   and lying on the right is my friend Milivj. That is what we looked like.  I think That I spent part of my first or second grade  in Slovenia. We lived in Lukmans house the town of Crnuce, right above the railway station, and I traveled with train to Siska, a suburb of Ljubljana.  At the time my three brothers were also there. Eventually I ended in the elementary school in Bela Crkva. In those days elementary school had four grades,after which students had to pass acceptance  examinations for High School called 'gimnazija'. I made the first grade of gimnazija in Bela Crkva . 

The first holly communion  was in those days an important affair. I received it in Bela Crkva, however I do not remember the church or anything about the celebration. I did not get the chance to receive the sacrament of confirmation at the time, so I had to go through the procedure when I was already a 'big boy' in Novi Sad.

Toward the end of our stay in Bela Crkva the boy's orphanage was transferred to an other town and the girl orphans came instead. I suppose I missed Gadola, my Gypsy friend. The girls did not stay long, they were moved and I suppose the buildings and the property were likely transferred back to the military. My father was transferred to Novi Sad, the capital of the Province and the main city of Vojvodina.  While he was away organizing things in Novi Sad, mother and I were living in a temporary apartment in Bela Crkva. I remember it as dark and unfriendly. I was very unhappy and not nice to my mother. Once when she made 'golaz' for supper I objected to it and even pushed the plate to the floor. I don't remember why was I so bad.  Mother did not do much, perhaps she said wait someday you will be hungry. Than we went to Novi Sad. I left my friend Milivoj and our excursions along the railway tracks.