Joe Gazdik was born in the spa town of Trenčianske Teplice, in western Slovakia, in March 1940. His family had a small farm, which he and his brother helped look after. To make ends meet after WWII, Joe’s father worked on both the family farm and the land belonging to the spa itself. Joe went to school in Nové Mesto nad Váhom and, as a keen sportsman, gained a place at Charles University’s Faculty of Physical Education in Prague upon graduation. He studied there for one month until his father died and, Joe says, money ran out. In 1961, Joe entered the Czechoslovak Army and was sent to the officers’ academy in Nitra. He left the army in 1963 and began to study technology and machine maintenance at the Stredná priemyselná škola in Dubnica nad Váhom; during this time he also worked in a local factory. Joe says it was when he was denied promotion at this plant (called Strojárske a metalurgické závody Dubnica) that he decided to leave Czechoslovakia.
He did so with two of his friends in August 1969 in the course of an organized coach tour to East Germany and Denmark. In Copenhagen, the trio went to the Danish police with their passports and said they did not want to return home. Joe subsequently spent 21 months in Denmark, working at the port in Copenhagen, before moving to Munich, Germany, and then the United States. He was sponsored to come to the United States by the International Rescue Committee in 1971. Joe first lived in Annandale, Virginia, before settling in Alexandria and then Arlington, where he lives to this day. He started working in construction in the Washington, D.C. area before securing a job with ABC News, where he worked as a building and maintenance technician for 21 years. He retired at the end of 2001. He is married to Maria Amparo Gazdik and has two daughters, Leyla Margareta and Lucy Ann.
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Joe Gazdik was born in the spa town of Trenčianske Teplice, in western Slovakia, in March 1940. His family had a small farm, which he and his brother helped look after. To make ends meet after WWII, Joe’s father worked on both the family farm and the land belonging to the spa itself. Joe went to school in Nové Mesto nad Váhom and, as a keen sportsman, gained a place at Charles University’s Faculty of Physical Education in Prague upon graduation. He studied there for one month until his father died and, Joe says, money ran out. In 1961, Joe entered the Czechoslovak Army and was sent to the officers’ academy in Nitra. He left the army in 1963 and began to study technology and machine maintenance at the Stredná priemyselná škola in Dubnica nad Váhom; during this time he also worked in a local factory. Joe says it was when he was denied promotion at this plant (called Strojárske a metalurgické závody Dubnica) that he decided to leave Czechoslovakia.
He did so with two of his friends in August 1969 in the course of an organized coach tour to East Germany and Denmark. In Copenhagen, the trio went to the Danish police with their passports and said they did not want to return home. Joe subsequently spent 21 months in Denmark, working at the port in Copenhagen, before moving to Munich, Germany, and then the United States. He was sponsored to come to the United States by the International Rescue Committee in 1971. Joe first lived in Annandale, Virginia, before settling in Alexandria and then Arlington, where he lives to this day. He started working in construction in the Washington, D.C. area before securing a job with ABC News, where he worked as a building and maintenance technician for 21 years. He retired at the end of 2001. He is married to Maria Amparo Gazdik and has two daughters, Leyla Margareta and Lucy Ann.
“Everybody was almost poor, because people didn’t have too many things after the War – everything was destroyed. I remember I didn’t have shoes; I couldn’t go out and play because we didn’t have shoes for a few months, because it was not available to buy anything. At the end of 1946, the supplies started to come to the people, because the factory and everything was destroyed, and people didn’t have, you know, too much money to buy things and it was very hard. Just after I started to go to school, I remember, it was much better everything.”
“We were very careful not to say one word to anybody in the group, because we knew that in the group they have some informer. Exactly what happened was, we were in Warnemuende in Germany, which is in the North Sea region, you know, which is like a recreation area, and the German secret police came – the Stasi – and they took one girl away from us. The told her, ‘Take your suitcase and come with us immediately.’ They showed this ID to our leader who was with the group and said ‘We are police from DDR Germany and this girl must go back with us to Czechoslovakia immediately.’ And the girl was crying, unbelievable, you know, she was so sorry. Just two guys come and they say, right away ‘You must go with us.’
“Her idea probably was if she goes to Denmark she will stay over there, that is my thinking, you know. Just they took her away, we didn’t say anything, we always said ‘Oh, we are coming back, I must finish my house’ (because I was remodeling,) ‘We must do this when we come back.’ You know, we had a good time and we were friendly with everybody in the group, just we never ever said something bad about the government or ‘we will not come back’ or something. We always looked to the future back in Czechoslovakia, that ‘we will do this and come back and do that…’”
“You see, you went to the police in Denmark, and we said ‘We don’t want to go back.’ And they said ‘Ok, give us your passport.’ We must give them our passport, a young police officer in civilian clothes said ‘Come with me.’ We went to his car, we went to the hotel where we stayed and he said to the doorman ‘These guys go with me.’ He said ‘Let them go into the room, pick up their things and they go with me.’ And the doorman said ‘Well, it’s a police officer,’ you know, he didn’t say anything. We picked up our things, we went to his car, and he takes us to the penzion. It was not like a camp or something, it was a pension, a nice pension, in Copenhagen, and it was full of refugees – Czechs, Slovaks and Polaks.”
“I sent my mum, I tried to send her some money in the letters, and all the time, I sent the letters registered, you know, [to be picked up] in the post office. And what really bothered me was that the director of the post office told my mother ‘Open the letter here.’ And mother opened the letter, there was money in it, and he said ‘I give you one week to go into the bank and exchange this money the legal way.’ Because at this time there were bony and my mum could sell these dollars to somebody and some people liked to buy bony [with this foreign currency], because they liked to buy cars or go to Tuzex – at this time there was Tuzex [a shop where luxury goods could be bought for foreign currency] and all kinds of things. Just no, they told my mother something that was not right, because you have the law, you have secrecy, no? You’re supposed to have, in your letters, secrecy. And they said ‘Forget it, open it, right now!’”
“I was leaving the shipyard in Copenhagen and they sent me to this superintendent, because he must sign the paper for me to release me, and he asked me, he said ‘I heard that you are going to America.’ I said ‘Well, I would like to go.’ And he said to me ‘I lived in America for 15 years,’ he said, ‘I was working over there.’ He said ‘America is hard, just if you make it, you will be happy.’ He said ‘If you don’t make it, come here and see me and I will take you back.’ He told me that. And I always remembered that, him saying ‘America is hard, just if you make it, you will be happy.’ Thanks god, I was working hard, you know, working in construction in this country – it is not easy. I was working, I remember, I was working for this company for six years – it was George Hyman, it is now called something different – they changed it, now it is Clark Company. We were building this new Senate office building, it was like a big hole, three floors down, and the Washington temperature was 102 degrees. Back in the hole it was maybe 120 degrees! It was not easy, it was hard – and thanks god I made it. I was working most of the time inside construction, finishing everything, this kind of thing, you know, not outside. Just that time we were building that Senate office building I was working outside, because I didn’t want to leave the company, I wanted to stay with the company. And, it was not easy.”
Lubomir Ondrasek was born in Topoľčany in western Slovakia in December 1972. His father, Ľubomír, was a military officer and his mother, Elena, worked in various clerical positions. In the early years of his life, he was raised by his maternal grandmother, Anna Nemcová, who lived in the small village of Beckov and with whom he maintained a life-long close relationship. In 1976 he moved with his parents to Martin, a city in northern Slovakia, where he attended elementary school and started gymnázium. Later Lubomir attended gymnáziums in Topoľčany, Žilina, and Nové Mesto nad Váhom, where he earned his high school diploma. A junior in high school in 1989, Lubomir has strong memories of the events of the Velvet Revolution and the fall of communism in Czechoslovakia.
In 1995, Lubomir left Slovakia for the United States with the purpose of pursuing his theological education. He earned his bachelor’s degree from Zion Bible Institute in Barrington, Rhode Island, in 1999, Master of Divinity from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in Boston in 2003, and Master of Theology from Harvard University in 2005. While pursuing his theological education Lubomir worked several odd jobs and also served as a minister in two New England congregations.
Lubomir moved to Chicago in 2005 and is a doctoral student at the University of Chicago where he is concentrating on political, philosophical, and theological ethics as well as the ethics of war and peace. He is the president and co-founder of Acta Sanctorum – a Chicago non-profit founded with his wife in 2009 on the occasion of the 20th anniversary of the Velvet Revolution – and also is an adjunct professor at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in Boston. Lubomir became a naturalized United States citizen in 2007. In the same year, he successfully fought a battle with cancer. Today he lives with his wife and daughter in the Hyde Park neighborhood of Chicago.
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Lubomir Ondrasek was born in Topoľčany in western Slovakia in December 1972. His father, Ľubomír, was a military officer and his mother, Elena, worked in various clerical positions. In the early years of his life, he was raised by his maternal grandmother, Anna Nemcová, who lived in the small village of Beckov and with whom he maintained a life-long close relationship. In 1976 he moved with his parents to Martin, a city in northern Slovakia, where he attended elementary school and started gymnázium. Later Lubomir attended gymnáziums in Topoľčany, Žilina, and Nové Mesto nad Váhom, where he earned his high school diploma. A junior in high school in 1989, Lubomir has strong memories of the events of the Velvet Revolution and the fall of communism in Czechoslovakia.
In 1995, Lubomir left Slovakia for the United States with the purpose of pursuing his theological education. He earned his bachelor’s degree from Zion Bible Institute in Barrington, Rhode Island, in 1999, Master of Divinity from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in Boston in 2003, and Master of Theology from Harvard University in 2005. While pursuing his theological education Lubomir worked several odd jobs and also served as a minister in two New England congregations.
Lubomir moved to Chicago in 2005 and is a doctoral student at the University of Chicago where he is concentrating on political, philosophical, and theological ethics as well as the ethics of war and peace. He is the president and co-founder of Acta Sanctorum – a Chicago non-profit founded with his wife in 2009 on the occasion of the 20th anniversary of the Velvet Revolution – and also is an adjunct professor at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in Boston. Lubomir became a naturalized United States citizen in 2007. In the same year, he successfully fought a battle with cancer. Today he lives with his wife and daughter in the Hyde Park neighborhood of Chicago.
“I did not really like school too much at that particular time of my life. And part of the reason was that in our educational system, pupils were told what to think, what to say and how to say it – all in the atmosphere of fear, which, you can imagine, is quite detrimental to authentic learning. The teachers were, in my opinion and in the opinion of many, excessively authoritarian. Education served as a powerful instrument of oppression in the hands of those who, through the process of social engineering, wanted to bring ‘heaven to earth.’ Our individuality was suppressed; uniformity was expected. I think it was during these early years I subconsciously began to abhor all of forms of oppression and all kinds of domination and I began to rebel against the system.”
“When I grew up I thought I would never be able to visit non-socialist countries even though the Austrian border was not too far from where I used to live. But when I was a junior at high school, an unprecedented event took place in the world which directly impacted my future life. In 1989, as you know, communism collapsed and the Cold War ended, and I joined hands with thousands of other students in a peaceful march for freedom. And I especially and still quite vividly remember participating in the general strike that took place on November 27, 1989, in the city of Žilina, where I lived at that particular time.”
“I came with a single purpose in mind, namely, to learn and adequately prepare myself for what I believed was God’s call on my life. Ten years later, I received a post-graduate degree in theology from Harvard University. In order for me to pursue my education in the United States and at the same time provide for my family, I worked. And I worked as a librarian, landscaper, custodian, translator, security guard, teaching assistant, instructor and a minister in two churches in New England, and probably some other jobs I have done that I have forgotten. One can also think about the hundreds of hours I studied immigration law in order to find ways to remain in this country legally. I can think of traveling over six hundred times from Smithfield, Rhode Island, to Boston, Massachusetts, to pursue my education. One can speak about a battle with serious illness and various disappointments that I had to overcome on this rather adventurous journey. So it has not always been easy but I believe it has been a worthy endeavor, and I consider my decision to leave for the United States in 1995 to be one of the best and most important decisions of my life.”
Ottilia’s family first lived in the Pilsen neighborhood of Chicago, which she says was a significantly Slovak and Czech neighborhood. Her father, who had lost his job right around the time his family arrived in Chicago, was able to find work in a factory, while her mother worked in a Czech restaurant as a cook. Ottilia learned to speak English fairly quickly, aided by the Bohemian nuns at the school she attended, St. Procopius. Her family became active in the Slovak community, frequenting dances and picnics, and joining the Slovak League of America [Slovenská liga], Jednota, and various church groups. Ottilia also enjoyed playing the violin and attending plays and opera. She graduated from Harrison High School and got a job at Northern Trust Bank in downtown Chicago, where she worked for over 40 years.
In 1953, Ottilia married her husband, Michael Maly, who had left Slovakia in 1949 following the Communist coup.
Ottilia first traveled back to Slovakia in 1954 and says that she was ‘shielded from communism’ by her family there. On subsequent trips, however, her husband was questioned by the police because he had left the country illegally. In addition to visiting Slovakia often, Ottilia has traveled throughout Europe and she attributes these opportunities to her father, who she says made the right decision in moving his family to the United States. She currently lives in La Grange, Illinois.
Ottilia Maly was born in Nové Mesto nad Váhom, Slovakia, in 1930. As her father, Stefan, was working in the United States to support his family, Ottilia grew up with her mother, Paulina, sister, brother, and two uncles. She attended just over one year of Catholic school in Nové Mesto when her father decided to move the family to the United States because, she says, he did not want them to live through the impending war. Ottilia remembers that her mother told her not to tell anyone they were leaving. In October 1937, the Slobodníks traveled to France where they boarded a ship for New York City. Once there, they took a train to Chicago where they were met at the station by her father.
Ottilia’s family first lived in the Pilsen neighborhood of Chicago, which she says was a significantly Slovak and Czech neighborhood. Her father, who had lost his job right around the time his family arrived in Chicago, was able to find work in a factory, while her mother worked in a Czech restaurant as a cook. Ottilia learned to speak English fairly quickly, aided by the Bohemian nuns at the school she attended, St. Procopius. Her family became active in the Slovak community, frequenting dances and picnics, and joining the Slovak League of America [Slovenská liga], Jednota, and various church groups. Ottilia also enjoyed playing the violin and attending plays and opera. She graduated from Harrison High School and got a job at Northern Trust Bank in downtown Chicago, where she worked for over 40 years.
In 1953, Ottilia married her husband, Michael Maly, who had left Slovakia in 1949 following the Communist coup.
Ottilia first traveled back to Slovakia in 1954 and says that she was ‘shielded from communism’ by her family there. On subsequent trips, however, her husband was questioned by the police because he had left the country illegally. In addition to visiting Slovakia often, Ottilia has traveled throughout Europe and she attributes these opportunities to her father, who she says made the right decision in moving his family to the United States. She currently lives in La Grange, Illinois.
“I know I was on the ship and I got seasick. We were all down in the lowest cabin, all four of us – my mother, and my sister, and my brother, and I. My brother was upstairs. All of the sudden he came down and he says ‘Come on up everybody! It’s so nice up there, you’re not going to be sick. Your head won’t hurt, come on.’ So we all went upstairs and he was the first one that was sick. Because you came down, then you went up, and he got sick. It was very funny at that time for us.”
“I had friends, maybe because in that Pilsen area [in Chicago] there was a mixture of Slovaks and Czechs, so I was able to understand them. Same thing with the nuns at St. Procopius. They were Bohemian. So they talked. What I couldn’t understand, they had to explain to me in Bohemian, and I could understand enough to get it from them, so this was good. Then when I learned my English there was no problem anymore. But I hated to lose all my friends in Slovakia. After all, you’re seven and a half, you have one grade behind you already, you think you know everybody. Anyway, we had fun and I hated to leave them. Same thing leaving my uncle behind and everything, but I was glad I was with my mother.”
“We bought a house and it was two flats. My sister lived downstairs, we lived upstairs. But it was two flats and she paid cash – $12,500 – for it. Father was amazed, in 1941. We came in 1937, in 1941, she had $12,500 cash to pay for a house.”
“We’ve got good food too, but I think ours is healthier – Slovak, much healthier. I used to think that because we didn’t eat so much meat that we had poor food. On the contrary, that was the best food what we had. Cabbage, and your bean soups, all kinds of soup. Barley, or even your sauerkraut. I didn’t like sauerkraut until I grew up, then I really liked it – and mushrooms.”
What do you think makes it healthier than American cuisine?
“It’s more vegetables I think, and beans, we eat, and that’s supposed to be some of the best stuff for you. And fruits of course – we had our own trees – I love fruit, and I loved vegetables too. Mother, if she couldn’t find me when I was a little kid in Slovakia, she’d go either in the tomatoes or the peas. And there I was, eating either the peas right off the line or the tomatoes.”
“It wasn’t my side of the family so much at all, but my husband, because he ran away in 1949, and he was in a camp in Germany, and then he came to his aunt who was in Ohio – his mother’s sister. He used different names when he was writing home because he had to be undercover all the time. So they looked at him. I mean, they really searched him, but they did not make trouble for him, they let him go. I mean, they interrogated him. They put him a room, they interrogated him, I had to wait outside. I thought, oh my goodness, will I ever see him again? But they talked to him a lot. And then one time, my husband said that the policeman was really nice – I don’t know if he gave him a cigarette in the end – they’re just doing their job sometimes. That’s their way of making life, they make it miserable for a lot of people. So not really, it was my husband that was more under scrutiny than I.”