March 14
The current Ukrainian war reminded me of escaping from Hungary in 1956 and the unlikely admission to UBC in the following year. I am immensely grateful for the understanding and opportunity the University of British Columbia afforded me.
When I came home from school on the last day of October 1956, my mother ordered me and my brother to walk to Vienna. She did not explain why we should leave until months later: she had heard that when The Hungarian Revolution broke out in Budapest, on October 23, soldiers guarding the “iron curtain” (the border between Hungary and Austria) stood aside while the refugees crossed the border.
My brother, 18, and I, 16 years old, left with a sandwich and a name on a piece of paper that my mother told us to call when arriving in Vienna. The name on the slip of paper turned out to be a Jesuit priest, a college mate of my uncle’s at the University of Vienna. The priest picked us up from the refugee camp and settled us in Vienna. Just before the border closed, when the Russian tanks returned to occupy Hungary, my parents and younger brother also left Hungary and joined us. They thought they may never see us again.
We ended up in Vancouver in January 1957. I was 17 years old and hated the thought of going back to high school; I felt suddenly mature beyond my age because of the uprooting from Hungary to Canada via Vienna and Manchester, England. They were going to put me back a year because of my poor English language skills. That was abhorrent to me. I thought of attending university instead. But I was only in grade 10 when we escaped from Hungary; how could I apply to university?
Unbeknownst to my parents, I looked up when registration took place at UBC in the Fall and took a bus there. The admissions officer’s first question was to ask for my high school diploma, which, of course, I did not have. Actually; I had no papers to even show that I had been in high school. In my tortuous English (which I had learned in Manchester and courses at the YMCA in Vancouver) I said that I had not finished high school, but I was confident that I could do the science courses. Like maths, physics, and chemistry. But she said that I needed to have the graduation papers. I responded I would take a chance and if I could not pass the courses, I would just fail. Well, the officer went to the back office to discuss my unique request and after a half-hour; she came back and said that it was my choice and my money if I failed, but they would let me take the chance.
Then, she told me the fee for the semester was $250. Feeling foolish and by now totally embarrassed, I said that I had no money. But I improvised and said that the government, I heard, was paying for the tuition of Hungarian refugees. That, of course, caused another long discussion in the back room. I waited nervously with bated breath. After a substantial time, the officer came back and said that UBC would accept me with no payment. I sighed and my heartbeat came down a few notches. Although I was uptight with my heart pounding, the entire negotiation occurred in a friendly and relaxed manner.
And I did UBC proud; I excelled in all the sciences. My weakest performance was in the mandatory English language courses. I was fortunate to have Professor Woodcock for my English course, who gave me a “P” or pass mark; he was aware of my background and valued the effort I put into learning the language.
So thank you UBC. You were gracious and understanding. And you can be proud, I finished UBC with an architecture degree. I followed it up with a couple of masters’ degrees in the States. And made my career in Canada since 1973.
Without your understanding and taking a chance on a 17-year-old refugee in 1957, I could not have made a successful career, grown a happy family in, and given back in services to, Canada. Thank you!
