The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Holocaust survivor gives back — and keeps hope
Henry Friedman and his wife raised money to open Seattle’s Holocaust Center for Humanity in 2014.
SEATTLE — In February 1942, Julia Symchuk was a 17-yearold maid in a Ukraine police station. She overheard her employers and the Gestapo planning to arrest a family friend. An innocent man. A Jew.
Symchuk ran through the snow to the farm of Jacob Friedman to tell him he was in danger. Friedman ran from the house and into the loft of his barn, where the police tried and failed to find him. He stayed there for months.
Later, as the Friedman family saw their Jewish neighbors rounded up, Jacob’s wife, Dora, their two sons, Henry and David, and a Jewish schoolteacher hid in the Symchuks’ barn, in Suchowola – about 6 miles from their hometown of Brody — while Jacob Friedman hid in another home.
“I could only lay or sit up,” Henry Friedman, now 92, remembered of that time. “I could never stand up. I couldn’t sneeze or cough the entire time.”
Henry now lives in a spacious home on Mercer Island, near Seattle, with his wife, Sandra, with whom he has three children.
And while the end of the war was 75 years ago, Henry Friedman’s memories of the war — and his journey to success and happiness in America — are fresh.
Liberation
When the area was liberated by the Russian army in 1944, Henry Friedman weighed 80 pounds and his muscles had atrophied. He had to learn how to walk again.
When the family returned to the newly liberated Brody, they found it 70% in ruins, and that out of 9,000 or 10,000 Jewish residents, fewer than 90 had survived or came back.
In 1949, Henry Friedman came to Seattle. Ten months later, he was drafted into the U.S. Army, and deployed to Japan and Korea. He returned to Seattle in October 1952 and found work at a jewelry company.
One day, he and a friend crashed a wedding, where he met the woman who would become his wife.
Together, they raised a family, built a jewelry business and, for 30 years, worked to raise money to open Seattle’s Holocaust Center for Humanity in 2014 “as a thank-you for giving me that opportunity,” Henry Friedman said.
“I have met Pope Paul II, presidents,” he said. “It’s unbelievable. Those are dreams, really. I never imagined. All I wanted was a full stomach.”
Friedman also started an essay contest at the Holocaust Center and named it for his father, who put a premium on education.
He is upset by what he sees happening in America: the division, the destruction, the way people disparage the country that has given him so much.
“You have a person like me, who comes not knowing the language, not knowing a soul, not knowing the customs,” he said. “And yet, I was able to raise a family, all my children went to college, when I didn’t finish high school.
“Where else can a person accomplish these things than in America?”
Return to Brody
In 1988, the Friedmans went back to Brody, where Henry walked the same streets he did as a boy, and, from memory, found his way to Symchuk’s house. He knocked and Julia answered the door. Ten years later, he flew her to Seattle. Only then would she admit that it was her family who sheltered the Friedmans.
Dee Simon, the executive director of the Holocaust Center for Humanity, said some survivors build walls around their past; remembering and speaking about it is too hard.
“It’s the people who speak out who are truly heroes,” she said. “Every time they spoke, it was painful for them.”
The pandemic has stopped Friedman’s speaking engagements, which worries him. He believes his message is especially important right now.
“By speaking about my experiences, it was to give young people a look at the future,” he said, “to never give up hope. I tell them, ‘You are looking at a person who has risen from the ashes, and if I can make it, you can make it.’
“The reason I am here is because I didn’t give up hope, and I was living hour to hour, in fear that this might be my last hour. Instead of hate, though, you have to turn to love.”