Dveira Elinienė (Dweira Yellin-Kormonaite) and her little daughter Estera found shelter with the shoemaker Apuokas’s family and in the homes of other kind people. Staying long in any one place was frightening. They once stayed with a quiet man named Pranevičius on a secluded street, but neighbours warned that they did not want a Jewish woman hidden nearby. Only then did Elinienė decide to approach people she knew solely through their famous names and work.
Sincerity and warmth surrounded everyone who found refuge in the Čiurlionis–Zubovas home. Elinienė did not even know that other fugitives were hiding there. She was grateful for the small basement room she had been given and could not understand why Danutė Zubovienė apologised so shyly for being unable to offer a more comfortable place. A larger room was already sheltering engineer Anatolijus Rozenbliumas, his wife Raja, their son Mika and Raja’s parents, the Kenigsberg family, who had escaped from the ghetto. Later they were joined by Kaunas epidemiologist Leonas Gurevičius.
Cycling through the countryside, Vladimiras Zubovas continually sought safer places for new fugitives from the ghetto. He kept in contact with his friend, paediatrician Petras Baublys, director of the Lopšelis orphanage.
A somewhat safer place was found for little Estera at the Benedictine Church’s orphanage in Čiobiškis, where she and five other Jewish children, protected by forged birth certificates, survived until the end of the war.
In this home, where Čiurlionis’s paintings looked down from the walls, new people kept arriving to tell their stories and seek advice. The hosts offered not only sympathy and comfort, but help in times of hardship. An atmosphere of exceptional spiritual depth prevailed. Writer Sofija Čiurlionienė and her daughter Danutė Zubovienė, the author of many children’s books, pursued their literary work. Architect Vladimiras Zubovas continued his research into architectural history. Like writer Balys Sruoga, who was taken hostage by the Nazis and imprisoned in Stutthof concentration camp, Vladimiras Zubovas, who had designed Sruoga’s home, considered himself a member of the Lithuanian intelligentsia responsible for his nation’s dignity. Through their lives and noble deeds, this family showed that the ideals of beauty and goodness expressed in their work were real.

Iš Hands Bringing Life and Bread, volume 2,
Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 1999

Danutė Čiurlionytė Zubovienė:

In autumn 1944, as the Germans began to retreat, the Jews grew anxious. Their greatest concern was saving their children. Anyone with any sense of humanity was appalled by German cruelty. Jewish children were torn from their parents’ arms, crammed into buses and taken to an unknown destination… My mother could find no peace, especially because there was no way to act or protest… Her active nature suffered under these constraints…
Amid this turmoil, one beautiful sunny morning a short blonde woman rang the doorbell and asked whether the professor was at home. I took her to Mother and left her in the study. A little later, I too was called in. Mother did not want to decide without me. The young woman was Jewish. Her daughter Estera was hiding in the ghetto with her grandparents. Rumours said that all Jewish children would be killed. The desperate mother had already been to Alytus and found a family willing to shelter Esia. A man would come with a horse to collect her; only temporary shelter was needed. Mother and I naturally agreed… A few days later, late in the evening, Elinienė arrived with the girl in her arms. We welcomed them warmly, seated them at the table and offered tea. The girl was sleepy: she had been given sleeping medicine… Word had reached the ghetto that children would be hunted the next morning… We put them both in the semi-basement. The next morning, while the girl was still asleep, her mother went to meet the man from Alytus. Mother and I took turns keeping watch downstairs. The girl had dark eyes and a birth certificate in the name of Elenytė Juodakytė. Her mother told us that, if she started shouting or crying, we should say “autobus fert” (“the bus is coming”), and she would understand that she must hide, curl up and remain silent…
The man from Alytus never came; apparently he had changed his mind. The poor mother searched desperately for another place. Meanwhile, my mother was thinking… Then she had a good idea. She went to see a Catholic public figure, Magdalena Galdikienė, an educator and civic activist. Galdikienė had contributed to the Ateitininkai students’ press, chaired the Lithuanian Catholic Women’s Society from 1919 to 1940 and participated in cultural and charitable organizations. She was undoubtedly influential and had connections with nuns… Soon we learned that we could bring Esia to the Benedictine convent. Late that evening, we put Esia in Kastytis’s pram, and Vladis and I wheeled her there while Elinienė followed a little way behind. We knocked at the gate with the agreed signal, let the mother and daughter enter and returned with lighter hearts.
I worried about Mother: what must she have gone through? We already knew of people arrested for rescuing Jews. I constantly feared for Mother’s heart, with all the anxiety and fear… Fate takes strange paths: one of little Esia’s carers was my classmate. After finishing secondary school, she had entered a convent. She was a quiet, devout, very kind-hearted girl, Rozalija Rimšaitė.
Elinienė went to work for a farmer in Rokai village. We later learned that she had been the last to see V. Krėvė as he fled west. She tried in every way to persuade him to stay, but he would not listen; he looked terrible, as if heading to certain death. Elinienė was an extraordinarily energetic woman. She also got her husband out of the ghetto; he and more than a dozen other Jews were hidden somewhere in the countryside by a kind-hearted woman.
As the front drew very close, while we were holidaying with the children in Panemunė, my friend Sister Rimšaitė brought Esia to my mother one evening. The nuns had learned that there would be a search… On seeing Gurevičienė, Esia asked, “Perhaps you are my mummy?” Before bed, she crossed herself and said a little prayer… When the danger passed, the nuns came to collect her. Mother had concealed Esia’s stay from us, otherwise we would have dropped everything and returned. How could I have let Mother face such danger alone?
Danger constantly threatened the Benedictine convent. The nuns moved Esia to their children’s shelter in Čiobiškis near Kaišiadorys, where other Jewish children were also staying. When the Germans learned of this, they searched the place and took perhaps five Jewish children. The carers managed to hide Esia in time. Afterwards, they took her to the Kaišiadorys bishopric, where Bishop Teofilius Matulionis had already been transferred from Kaunas. The girl was sheltered there and felt very happy. Everyone liked her, particularly for her musical talent: in church she kept returning to the organ and sang with everyone. Following the bishop’s intervention, the arrested Jewish children were not killed. The atmosphere had changed: the Germans were retreating, having already lost the war.
Esia was returned to Čiobiškis. Meanwhile, after the Germans withdrew from Kaunas, the Elinas family emerged from hiding. Elinienė travelled to Kaišiadorys and learned about her daughter. Bishop Matulionis and his housekeeper, Benedictine Sister Angelė, who had cared for Esia in Kaunas, welcomed her warmly. The bishop said that the girl should study music. On learning that Elinienė herself was a music teacher, he said, “That is very good, very good!” Elinienė stayed the night and set out on foot for Čiobiškis early the next morning… Esia’s joy knew no bounds.
Elinaitė attended the ten-year music school where her mother also taught music. Later, Esia graduated from the Moscow Conservatory. She married Orlov, a Jewish man from Moscow, who persuaded the Elinas family to leave; they all moved to Israel in 1973. While they were still in Lithuania, we often admired Elinaitė’s concerts. She received a diploma at the Chopin Competition in Warsaw. Today, Elinaitė has her own music school in Zurich, at conservatory level.
We stayed in touch with the family throughout. Our grandson Rokas Zubovas and his wife Sonata even visited Estera while taking part in a competition in Switzerland. Her advice helped them greatly.
At about the time Mother was concerned about Esia’s fate, engineer Anatolijus Rozenbliumas came to see Valdis. He was his colleague from the Military Housing Administration and the designer of the famous Kaunas Sports Hall. A German accompanied him and waited outside. Rozenbliumas needed temporary shelter for his wife and son, as a hiding place was already being prepared for them in the countryside. Since the apartment belonged to Mother, we had to consult her. Again she agreed without hesitation. The family survived; our home played a crucial role. Perhaps we took the greatest risks for them… A woman in Vilijampolė took their three-year-old son, while Rozenbliumas, his wife and her parents lived for about a year with a farmer beyond Vilijampolė in a specially built masonry hiding place. They were effectively walled in, receiving food only through a secret small opening. Mother underwent two very distressing experiences because of them. We had put Raja and her son in the little room behind the kitchen, since Dr Gurevičius occupied the basement apartment. One evening, the doorbell rang insistently. Germans burst in noisily. We froze: someone had informed on us, and there would be a search. Fortunately, it turned out that a window had not been properly blacked out… The Germans were favourably impressed by Vladas’s fluent German. But as soon as they left, Mother suffered an attack, apparently brought on by her nerves: abdominal pain so severe she could not straighten up. We gave her sedatives and put her to bed, and the pain gradually eased. I kept wondering whether we were right to risk the health of someone so dear for complete strangers. The second ordeal was seeing the Rozenbliumas family off. Late at night, they had to cross the Vilijampolė bridge, patrolled by a German sentry. We accompanied them, following behind and watching. The sentry did not stop them, and we returned home relieved. We found Mother completely overwhelmed. How much she had endured! When would it end?
Soon a farmer named Vincas visited us. He told us that the Rozenbliumas family had safely reached the hiding place, where Raja’s parents, the Kionigsbergs (Königsbergs), had arrived by another route. Kionigsberg owned a jewellery shop at the end of Laisvės Avenue. They had narrowly escaped deportation in 1941; only their daughter, Rozenbliumienė’s sister, had been deported. After liberation, Raja’s parents reached Paris by secret routes. Their daughter was deeply worried, until she finally received a postcard signed “Tvoj papa Kaliningrad” (“Your father, Königsberg”). We remained friends with the Rozenbliumas family, including after they moved to Vilnius in 1969. Both have since died, while their son Mika, saved amid great danger in Vilijampolė by a woman named Monika, is a structural engineer at a design institute in Vilnius.
Finally, I want to tell you about Valdis’s friend, engineer Julius Zupavičius, and his wife Dita (Judita) Kacaitė. He was a Lithuanian reserve officer, a Lithuanian patriot and a member of the Jewish Zionist youth organization Betar. While in the eighth class at Aušra secondary school, she secretly married Julius. This was in 1941. Valdis met Julius while they were working in the construction department of Pieno Centras. Their shared views brought them together.
When the Germans arrived, Julius and Dita were confined in the ghetto. As a reserve officer, Julius was appointed deputy chief of the ghetto police. From the very beginning, he belonged to a secret Jewish underground organization. We kept in touch with the Zupavičius family. Valdis even visited Julius at his official post. Entry to the ghetto was possible when someone trusted by Zupavičius guarded the gate. Vladis met Dita at a factory where she was brought with other Jews for work. I remember one occasion when Dita came to us and circumstances forced us to receive her in the potato cellar… We helped them too, again with those unfortunate Jewish children. Valdis undertook to help and spoke with Dr Baublys. The following evening, at an agreed time after dark, a little girl would be brought and left at the door, as was done with abandoned infants. Everything happened as arranged. After this successful operation, there were more “clients”, as we called them. Vladis went to Dr Baublys perhaps five or six times… It is difficult now to trace what happened to the children. Only in 1992 did the Elinas family include in a letter greetings from Jewish poet Lacmanas’s daughter, now a nurse in Israel, and from engineer Ratner’s daughter, a paediatrician. Both had been rescued at Lopšelis…
Our friend Julius Zupavičius died a true hero. Only recently did I learn the details from Dita, who visited from Israel. Near the end of the war, the Jews had built a hiding place deep underground for children. Only Zupavičius’s comrades knew of it. Someone betrayed them; all were arrested and taken to the Ninth Fort. They were divided into two groups, interrogated and tortured. Zupavičius’s head was split open, and he was covered in blood. His group held out, but someone in the other group betrayed the secret… They were all lined up, and the names of those to be shot were called. When Zupavičius’s name was called, his friend Šulgaseris (Schulgasser) stepped forward, sacrificing himself for the organization’s leader. The Germans, however, saw through the deception and recognized Zupavičius by his head wound. He and several friends were shot in March 1944. The man who revealed the children’s hiding place was cruelly punished by fate: after his arrest, his wife and child had gone there too and died with everyone else.
In July 1944, after this devastating tragedy, the Germans deported Dita Zupavičienė, her mother and youngest brother to Stutthof camp. They were liberated by the Red Army and returned to Kaunas. She now lives in Tel Aviv, Israel.
As I mentioned, when the Red Army approached, our family moved to the elder Zubovas family’s farm at Judreliai. There we found the widow of Šiauliai physician Kamberis with her son, aged about seven. She lived under the assumed surname Kvedarienė. The Judreliai farm changed hands several times, but there were no tragic incidents: she simply managed to keep out of the Germans’ sight. Finally, someone there could welcome the Red Army joyfully… Thus our parents also helped rescue Jews. How many such rescuers remain unknown?
Felicija Bortkevičienė helped us. Architect Steponas Stulginskis and his wife were very active in rescuing Jews. M. Žakevičienė protected a Jewish girl whom her daughter Jadvyga Jablonskienė had taken in. Jadvyga herself died at Pravieniškės during the Soviet period. A Jewish woman worked for the Gruodis family as a garden helper for a time. The family of Juozas Paknys, former director of the Bank of Lithuania, took in a Jewish boy. I obtained birth certificates for Jewish children from the parish priests of the Carmelite and Holy Trinity churches.