Holocaust survivor brings living history to local schools

After surviving Nazi medical experiments as a child, Sami Steigmann spent nearly 63 years staying silent. Then, in 2008, an earnest note from an 11- year- old girl convinced him that his story needed to be told.

Despite having spent the first part of his childhood in a labor camp, Steigmann never fully identified with the Holocaust survivors whose stories seemed to permeate public memory.

“I have no memory of that period of time,” Steigmann told the Chronicle. “I knew that I was [a survivor], being in a labor camp, but I tried to ignore it. At the same time, I did not feel like I belonged to the children of the Holocaust survivors because most of them were displaced people [or born] in the camps liberated by the Allies.”

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In 2008, Steigmann decided to volunteer with the Museum of Jewish Heritage in Manhattan, where he was given his first assignment — to speak to a group of sixth graders.

“I never spoke publicly before,” he said. “I did not feel that I had a compelling story, but I knew that I knew more than the kids.”

He decided to “just do it,” not knowing what to expect.

“They sent me 10 thank you letters, one better than the other, but one sixth grader changed my life,” he said. “She wrote ‘P.S. Your story was overwhelming and I promise I’ll pass your story on to my children.’ It made me realize that I have something very important that I must share with young people.”

Now, Steigmann travels across the country, sharing his story in an effort to educate and empower the younger generation to become “upstanders” in the face of oppression.

He was in Pittsburgh this week to speak with local students, community members and civic leaders.

Born in 1939 in Czernovitz, Bukovina, Steigmann spent the first years of his life in a Ukrainian labor camp known as Mogilev-Podolsky. Due to his young age and inability to work, he was subjected to medical experimentation.

“I experience [the effects] every single second of my life,” he said. “The reason they cannot find a cure is because it’s not localized, so I don’t know where it starts, how long it will be there, where it will go or how painful it [will be].”

He recalls his parents telling him that life after the medical experiments became increasingly difficult. As food grew scarce, Steigmann’s father was forced to trade his winter coat for a single loaf of bread. The bitter winter frost and dwindling resources brought Steigmann to the brink of starvation.

Steigmann was told he was saved by a local German woman who lived near the camp and routinely brought food to the SS and Ukrainian guards. Recognizing the tell-tale signs of starvation — a big head, a swollen stomach, and swollen feet — she risked her life to save him. A bit of milk, and a quick pat on the cheeks, and his skin flushed with life.

“I do not know the name of the person,” he said. “However, in 2014 I went to Israel, and next to the museum, there is a garden honoring 27,000 people that saved Jews, and I saw a marker honoring the unknown righteous among the nations. That made me very happy, because indirectly my life was saved by her.”

Out of the 42 known members of Steigmann’s extended family, only four survived the war — his mother, father, uncle, and himself.

“My father always felt guilty — how come he did not save one of the family members?” Steigmann recalled. “Many survivors had that feeling. Each generation had different issues to deal with, and in a joking way, I was blessed because I have to deal with both of them.”

The camp was liberated by the Red Army, and Steigmann and his family returned to Romania, before eventually emigrating to Israel. There, he served in the Israeli Air Force, until moving to the United States in 1968.

“I got the visa totally unprepared — without money, without language,” he said. “After my divorce, I went back to Israel in 1983 again, because of my mother. She realized I’m more American than Israeli, because I lived here for 15 years … one thing led to the other, and New York became my home.”

Steigmann realized his life would be defined — not by what he endured, but by what he chose to build — once he began to speak publicly.

“Once I started to speak, things evolved,” he said. “I didn’t start with that at first, but as I grew, I learned more things, met different people and came to that stage.”

Sam Stavchansky, a StandWithUs Kenneth Leventhal High School Intern, invited Steigmann to speak in Pittsburgh after hearing his “unique” testimony at a StandWithUs conference in March.

“Students can really connect with [history] when there’s someone in front of them telling them the story,” Stavchansky said. “It’s not something that you only see on YouTube, and it’s not something only on the whiteboard anymore — it’s something you can actually [hear] in person.”

Steigmann addressed students at Community Day School and teens from around Allegheny County at the JCC on June 1, as well as city officials in downtown Pittsburgh and students at Taylor Allderdice High School on June 2.

“I don’t like to lecture,” he said. “I tell the students, you can ask me any questions that you want on any subject, I will be very honest, and I’ll tell you how I feel. I am not asking you to agree with me. All I’m asking is to respect that I may have a different opinion.”

The result, he believes, is that students feel inspired to “share their own story.” At CDS earlier that morning, one child even felt emboldened to stand up during the presentation and recount his great-grandparent’s story of survival during the Holocaust.

For Steigmann, moments where students begin to “view themselves as leaders” are a testament to the power of storytelling across generational lines.

“What you have experienced right now is living history,” Steigmann said. “You are my witness.” PJC

Octavia Liku can be reached at oliku@pittsburghjewishchronicle.org.