In a packed auditorium at Landrum Middle School, eighth-graders fidgeted and chattered with each other, happy to be away from the rigors of math class and the writing assignments in English. A hush fell over the crowd as slowly, the lights went down in the room and the screen on the stage came to life with the crackling sounds of a video player.
Twenty minutes later, the lights came up, but this time every eighth grader in the room was silent. As the silence continued, an older gentleman made his way to the front of the stage and grabbed the microphone.
"As you are growing up, try not to hate each other," said Henri Landwirth. "Your life is going to be so much better."
Landwirth would know. He is an 81-year-old survivor of the Holocaust.
Landwirth was at Landrum last week to talk to the students about hate and to share his story of survival with them.
Born in Belgium in 1927, Landwirth was swept up in the horrors of the Nazi regime and was forced into a concentration camp with his mother and sister. The video he showed to students, aptly titled "A Gift of Life", illustrated the horrors he saw during World War II.
Interviewed by his grandchildren in the video, Landwirth told the story of how he was brought before a firing squad in 1945, shortly before the end of the war, and was prepared to die. He said he did not know why, but the soldiers lowered their guns and told him to run.
Then, at 18 years old, he made his way through various refugee camps searching for any sign of his family. He eventually found his sister and emigrated to the United States in 1950. He was drafted into the Army and after a short tour he utilized the G. I. Bill to take courses in hotel management in New York. Working his way up the ranks, Landwirth eventually ended up in Florida running the Starlight Hotel in Cocoa Beach.
The Landrum students were fascinated by Landwirth’s story. He opened the floor up to questions and the students jumped at the opportunity.
Asked what the worst thing about the camps was, Landwirth told the students that he was hungry all the time.
"We were fed 250 grams a day," he said. "That was a crust of bread and watery soup. When I got out I weighed 70 pounds."
Landwirth said he sometimes still has trouble sleeping.
"I have never forgot the Holocaust," he said. "It’s a part of my life."
Just like the tattoo on his arm.
Landwirth rolled up his sleeve to show students the numbered tattoo on his arm that reads B4343. He said he had no identity other than that number for many years.
PVPV/Rawlings student Harrison Snowden asked why the world didn’t do anything. Landwirth said he wished he could answer that question, but he had no idea. He did, however, offer the students a piece of advice.
"Please tell your parents truly how much you love them," he said.
January 26th 2009 - 12:27PM