ENA at 85

By age 7, Ena Lorant had witnessed the worst that humanity had to offer. By age 17, she had experienced human kindness at its best.

The Nazi invasion
The ugliness began on Palm Sunday in 1941. Nazis invaded Belgrade, Yugoslavia where Ena’s family had lived for generations. As the bombs exploded, her childhood – which had been so wonderfully uneventful – was cut short. Life in their bustling, multi-cultural city was suddenly in complete upheaval.

Ena and her family, like all members of the Jewish community, were at risk. They were subject to harsh restrictions, severe food shortages and demeaning yellow stars. Ena recalls a particular heartbreak. She had been so eager to turn 7, the magic age when she could enter public school. It was crushing to discover that her religion barred her entry.

Ena’s family, although proud of their Jewish heritage, was not observant. In the eyes of the Nazis, the extent of one’s faith was inconsequential. They were undeniably Jewish and therefore, targeted as the enemy.

Ena recalls the terror as the invasion began.

“The bombing lasted three days, I was so scared, I couldn’t stop shaking.”

The family initially sought refuge in the basement of their home. As the invasion persisted, they walked to a surrounding village to stay with their housekeeper’s family. Once the bombs subsided, they returned to Belgrade. They were horrified to see the destruction that blighted a once beautiful city.

They were further unsettled to find that Nazis had moved into their home. Ena’s mother bravely asked for permission to go inside to get some coats for her daughters. As she walked through the rooms of her beloved home, she was horrified at the extent of the looting. Even coats and blankets to keep her children warm had been taken.

At the start of the war, Ena’s father joined the Yugoslavian army in their fight against the Nazis. Early on, he was captured and imprisoned in Germany. The protective clauses of the Geneva Convention were respected and, as a Jew, he did not face harsher conditions then other prisoners. Amazingly, he was able to communicate with his family for the duration of the war.  Their ability to stay in contact offered significant comfort during these tumultuous times.

When life in Belgrade became untenable. Ena, together with her sister Alisa, her mother, her grandmother, several aunts, and a great-uncle fled.

“My mother cut the yellow star [off her clothing] and flushed it down the toilet. We had to leave. There was no turning back.”

The Kindness of the Italian People
The family secured falsified documents and traveled through Albania to Cison Di Valmarino, a small town in northeast Italy.  This was where Ena began to experience the life-affirming chapter in her young life.

While Cison, like all of Italy, was under the dictatorship of Nazi ally Benedetto Mussolini, life for Ena’s family was livable. There were modest requirements, including a mandated daily check in with officials. But the government also allocated money and ration cards so that refugees could find housing and secure food.

The villagers, however, refused to accept the Nazi’s belief that Jews needed to be eradicated. They were uninterested in knowing anything about the newcomers except that they were in desperate need of help.

“I remember the kindness of the people. Whenever we had real contact with Italians, they felt a lot of connection to us.  They saw us as human beings. Those marching around town with their legs way up in the air – they were something else.”

Gradually, Ena was able to resume her childhood. She and Alisa learned Italian and played in the plazas with neighborhood kids. Their ties to the community were strengthened when it became known that their great-uncle was a physician. The town and surrounding area were in need of medical attention. His skill and compassion were greatly appreciated.

The serenity experienced in Cison came to a halt in 1943. Mussolini had been killed and the Germans invaded northern Italy. The villagers, concerned about the refugees’ safety, urged them to relocate in southern Italy.

Finding a Haven in the Mountains of Italy
Ena’s family quickly boarded a train, knowing only that it was heading south. With no particular destination in mind, they remained on the train until the final stop. They were in Amandola, a random town in the mountains of central Italy. They sat on the platform too hungry and exhausted to contemplate their next move. The stationmaster’s wife, Elvira Brutti, took notice and did what anyone in this town would have done. She invited them into her home for a hearty meal.

Once again, the family experienced the extraordinary hospitality of the Italian people. What began as an unplanned stop in an unfamiliar town extended into a three-year stay in a welcoming community.  Amandola was a haven that Ena would always consider her home.

Before the family had finished their meal, Elvira and her husband Giuseppe were in action mode. They had contacted the local Monsignor as well as the man that Ena describes as the most anti-fascist in the village. These town leaders mobilized villagers and without hesitation, they offered shelter, food and friendship.

Perhaps best of all, Ena had the opportunity to attend school. Members of the community thoughtfully guided Ena’s aunt, an educator, as she prepared Ena to enter a classroom for the first time.

Throughout their stay in Amandola, no one ever asked if they were Jewish. Ena is convinced that many, including the Monsignor, knew but refused to support the government’s fascist policies.  The risks they took were enormous. The Nazis severely punished or murdered anyone suspected of hiding Jews. Unfortunately, there was an outsider in the community – a cobbler from Genoa – and he did not share the town’s humanity. He became aware that the village was hiding Jews and he alerted the authorities. The villagers were alarmed and immediately helped the family to seek safety further south.

Ena and her relatives arrived in a small Italian mountain town. Once again, a priest stepped forward to offer assistance. He led them to safe housing. Ena’s family remained in this town until the Allies liberated Italy in 1944.

The Aftermath of the War
The war ended but the family’s trek continued. The United Nations set up a displaced persons camp in Puglia, a town in eastern Italy. Ena’s family was assigned a dirt-floor barrack made of corrugated metal. The crude conditions did not diminish the joy experienced when her father arrived at the camp and the family was reunited.

Once together, the family strove to return to normalcy. They moved to Rome for three or four years. Her father directed an organization that helped concentration camp survivors and displaced persons as they began the overwhelming process of reclaiming their lives. Resettlement options were limited. Italy was unwilling to grant refugees permanent residency. Many refugees were uninterested in or unable to return to their homeland. Some moved to Palestine. Others headed to South America to join relatives who had emigrated during the war.

Immigration to America
The United States was disappointingly slow to open its doors. Ena’s family did not arrive until 1952 when she was 17. For over 10 years, they had survived solely through the extraordinary kindness and courage of others.

Since 1963, Ena has made Newton, MA her home. This is where she and her late husband, a Holocaust survivor with a remarkably similar survival story, raised their daughter and two sons. It’s no coincidence that Ena dedicated her career to assisting and educating those who had left dangerous homelands to find a better life. She is unaccepting of our country’s current immigration policies: they are disturbingly frightening and familiar. Ena knows the trepidation and exhaustion that is an undeniable part of the refugee experience. She is pained at the lack of communities willing to emulate Amandola, Italy. This special village may be a mere speck on the map, but it is a giant for its acceptance and humanity.

Expressions of Appreciation
Ena’s story is powerfully retold in a DVD created by her son Michael, who is a videographer, and scripted by her son Richard, a writer. With precious photos and edifying maps, viewers have the opportunity to step into Ena’s world to appreciate the magnitude of her journey. The video concludes poignantly with frames of each family member waving an Italian flag and expressing “grazie” to the villagers.

In 2005, 25 members of Ena’s family traveled to Amandola to deliver the DVD and to offer their enduring appreciation. They crossed the ocean to personally embrace those who had once so lovingly embraced them.  They also took this opportunity to publicly recognize ensure the Brutti’s heroism. Ena’s family had nominated the Bruttis for the prestigious “Righteous Among The Nations”, a medal awarded to those who saved Jews during the Holocaust. An Israeli official, representing the country’s Holocaust Remembrance Authority, made the presentation to the Brutti children in honor of their deceased parents.

The Wonders of Connection
For me, the magic of the story did not end there. I asked Ena how her family established roots in Boston. “Mr. Frank Vorenberg” was the reply. Along with his father, he owned Boston’s Gilchrist department stores. He hadn’t known the family, but generously sponsored their passage and guaranteed Ena’s father employment once settled.

Vorenberg. That name was immediately familiar but I wasn’t sure in what context. With the aide of a good friend (who was the stepdaughter of Jim Vorenberg, the former dean of Harvard Law School and Frank’s son), and some sleuthing on ancestry.com, the connection became startling clear. Frank was married to Ida Muhlfelder Vorenberg. The wife of the man who sponsored Ena’s family to safety was my mother-in-law’s first cousin.

What is the likelihood of such a breathtaking coincidence? Huge, if you believe in the magic of Jewish geography. This is one more example of the seemingly endless ties that enable two strangers to meet only to discover how their pasts are intertwined.