The Story of Victor Maghear, an Anti-Communist Hero

Sorin Grecu

I am holding in my hands a substantial book of over 400 pages, entitled “The Road of the Slaves,” written by Victor Maghear (editor’s note – who passed away a few years ago). I read it breathlessly, in only two days, like an adventure novel. The book is absolutely astonishing and describes the author’s ordeals, beginning with his arrest in 1959 and ending with his release in 1962.

A Novel-Like Character

In the book are described in great detail the sufferings he and his comrades endured in the communist prisons and labor camps of: Gherla, the Danube Delta, Periprava, Grind, Balta Dunării, Stoenești, Grădina, and Strâmba. Alongside the author’s own adventures, remarkable figures of Romanian history are also mentioned: writers, priests, professors, diplomats, artists — in fact, the “cream” of our intellectual elite, thrown into prison by the imported tools of communism from the East. With impatience and emotion, book in hand, I make my way toward the home of the former anti-communist fighter. In passing, I glance at the back cover and notice that Victor Maghear was born on February 20, 1929, in the commune of Chendrea, Sălaj County. I panic. Today is February 20, 2008 — his birthday. I step into a small shop and buy a bottle of wine. Soon I arrive at his home and knock at the door. A thin but well-built elderly man opens, relatively short, with an extremely piercing gaze. Like many of his comrades, he bears that slightly suspicious look of those who have passed through communist camps and prisons. We understand each other quickly, because I prove that I have read his book carefully, and he invites me into his daughter’s home, larger and warmer than his own. Then, without any real introduction, he begins the story of his life: “The first time I was arrested was in January 1959, after some anti-communist poems of mine were found when my father-in-law was arrested. I had written them in 1956, during the Hungarian uprising, and stored them at my father-in-law’s house, in a suitcase. At the same time, I also had connections with a network of opponents of the regime, with whom, in a foolish illusion, we were planning the country’s future while waiting for the Americans. They arrested me directly from the Mucava Factory in Cluj, where I was working at the time. I was interrogated for days, after which I was released, with the intention of leading my pursuers to the supposed leaders of the anti-communist movement. I immediately realized I was being followed and made no gesture that might draw attention. The second arrest came soon, only a few days later, when I was working as chief warehouseman at the grain reception base. This time they did not release me, and I ended up directly in Gherla, sentenced to six years. During that time, my wife and child were left starving, together with my father-in-law’s family, which also consisted of eight people. As an aside, my wife was helped to find work by Vasile Condu, the chief accountant at the Central Post Office in Cluj — but she did not even have time to enjoy her job, because immediately the Securitate intervened and sentenced our benefactor to twenty years in prison for supporting my family. The poor man remained imprisoned until 1964, when he too was released, like all political prisoners in Romania. He died shortly after his release, due to illnesses contracted in camps and prisons. Desperate, my wife submitted a petition to Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej, stating that she was simply starving. After some time, she received a job as an unskilled worker at the “Libertatea” Furniture Factory. She worked there until my release in 1962.”

Other Actions Against Communism

I notice in Victor Maghear a real passion for storytelling. Every incident is “seasoned” with dozens of details, each more vivid than the last. He continues: “One of the great chances of my life was that all my life I worked heavy physical labor, which helped me enormously in forced labor camps. My basic profession is that of a schoolteacher, and in 1949–1950, when I was working in the village of Trestia, I helped with food and information Vasile Rodina, known as ‘The White Horse,’ the most feared anti-communist fighter in the Sălaj region, whom the Securitate managed to capture only after many years and extraordinary efforts. In Cluj I worked until 1956 as a laborer in the vegetable tanning section of the ‘Clujana’ shoe factory. There too I distinguished myself as a leader, and I want to tell you about an incident that happened while I was working there. Around 1955, I provoked a strike in the section where I worked because the money offered by the management was not enough even for food — and the work was extremely hard. When the strike began, the Minister of Light Industry himself, Sencovici, brother-in-law of the factory director, Szekely, came to ‘Clujana.’ When the minister extended his hand, I told him straight to his face: ‘Comrade Minister, the people want bread, because they are starving — not slogans.’ Everyone expected me to be arrested on the spot, but, to everyone’s surprise, the minister agreed with me and ordered that wages be doubled. After he left, the director’s lackeys, in order to get rid of me, offered me a much easier and better-paid job in the same institution, and even allowed me to choose it myself. That is how I ended up in the civilian tailoring section of the ‘Clujana’ factory.” Then he adds: “Let me tell you how I ended up working as a miner, all the way in Țebea. I had just enrolled, in 1956, as a freshman student at the Faculty of History at the University of Cluj. Then, during the popular uprising in Hungary, meetings were held within the faculty’s U.T.M. organization condemning these events. When I stood up to give my opinion, I stirred up a real storm by declaring that ‘the Hungarians’ cause is the common cause of all countries under people’s democracy, and we should ask for help from the West and the Americans to support us in our fight against the Soviet invader.’ The very next day, a man in civilian clothes came to warn me that I was on the Securitate’s arrest list. What could I do? Since I did not even have one leu, I immediately went to the Blood Transfusion Center and donated blood. With the 150 lei I received, I took the bus straight to Țebea, where I got hired as a miner. That is how I escaped prison — but only for the moment. They quickly tracked me down, and soon a long and painful chain of suffering began…”

Prison and Extermination Camps

In the labor camp in the Danube Delta, where he was cutting reeds, Maghear had a comrade named Friedman, a Jew from Oradea, a survivor of the Nazi camps. Friedman died there, in the bed next to his, because of deprivation and extermination conditions. On his deathbed, he confessed to Maghear that not as many atrocities had taken place in the Nazi camps as in those in Romania. After several months spent in the sinister prison of Gherla, where his father-in-law was also held, the most dreadful ordeal for Victor began: the long circuit of forced labor camps. During these penitential years, he had the chance to meet luminous figures of our nation, such as Professor Cherteș, Father Prunduș, and Father Băliban. At Grădina he shared the same shelter with the writer Al. Ivasiuc, the philosopher Grigore Popa, and Professor Vasile Tarța. Also there were today’s academician Al. Zub from Iași, as well as Professor Aurelian Popescu. From these people he learned many things — and later considered that, from his point of view, the camp had turned into a true Academy. University-level courses were held there in philosophy, mathematics, history, theater, cinematography, foreign languages, and when people listened, they forgot for a few moments the bitterness of their lives. The former political prisoner adds: “At Grădina I stayed with another great professor, Mihai Musceleanu, whose father had been King Michael’s teacher. He was 44 years old, and when I asked him how he knew so many things, he told me he had gone to school side by side with King Michael, being his companion even during trips abroad. Alongside the long line of criminal Securitate men I encountered throughout my imprisonments (whom I will not speak about now, because it would take far too long), I remember the infamous Ion Dincă, nicknamed Teleagă, a Ceaușescu minister of dark memory. I knew him personally between 1950 and 1952, when I was a soldier in Târgoviște and he was a second lieutenant. He was secretary of the regiment’s U.T.M., and I was responsible for the regiment’s literacy school. He was a convinced communist, a true fanatic — but otherwise kind-hearted. I say this because although he knew my profoundly anti-communist convictions, he did not denounce me to his superiors. Returning to the camps: there I was known as ‘a recalcitrant and irrecoverable element for communist society,’ a violent man because I took revenge on the brigade leaders and informers who caused the greatest suffering to my comrades.” In the autumn of 1959, Maghear and his comrades were at Stoenești, and winter came far too early. At minus one degree they were still dressed in shorts — and were literally going mad with cold. They did no work all day, only stood back to back to keep warm.

The old man recalls: “The gendarmes came and beat us — but we gathered again a few meters away, not caring about the beating. On October 16 we were lucky, and a team of Securitate officers in civilian clothes appeared. They saw the state we were in and asked who was responsible for the site. We told them it was a major lieutenant, who did nothing all day except ride a splendid Arabian horse. The civilians summoned him and warned him that within 24 hours we must be equipped with winter clothing, otherwise they would shoot him for crimes against humanity. The major lieutenant was frightened, and within 24 hours we had winter clothes. Great luck, because if those humane officers had not come, many of us would have died.”

Release and a New Ordeal

Throughout his detention, Maghear had no idea what was happening to his wife and child. Not even beginning in 1961, when periodic postcards were introduced for “production leaders,” was he allowed to communicate with his family — simply because he refused to work. He rightly believed that, since it was an extermination camp, working meant playing the communists’ game. His face darkens slightly, then he continues: “But our most terrible enemy was hunger. Full-grown men wept because of it, and during the distribution of portions (already so meager) there was a real battle around the food barrels. Because of the crowding, much food spilled onto the ground, and the soldiers could never manage to serve all the prisoners. Hunger was so dreadful that, starving, men were not even afraid of the soldiers’ loaded weapons.” Maghear was released on October 6, 1962. He returned home and, with some luck, was rehired at the Mucava Factory, where he worked for two years. Ironically, on his very first day back at work, he fractured his leg, and only the goodwill of his superiors, who knew his situation, allowed him to get through it safely, with his attendance recorded as if present. He also worked for about three months at I.R.A., in the dismantling section — but because of the filth there, he resigned and was hired at “Armătura,” where he worked as a locksmith until around 1976. Once again, he notes bitterly: “But because I could not tolerate theft and injustice there either, I transferred to C.U.G., where I stayed until my retirement in 1989. Let me tell you an incident that happened at C.U.G. Because my anti-communist past was known, one day the party secretary came to me and told me I could leave for the U.S.A. if I wished, because everyone wanted to get rid of me once and for all. I told him, to his great astonishment, that I truly loved my homeland and had no intention of ever leaving it.” In truth, Maghear was thinking of his four children and his wife — who would have taken care of them? He says that if he had known the American state offered each political refugee the sum of 800 dollars, he would have gone to America himself and helped his family from there. But fate decided otherwise.

He concludes in the same tone: “Now I have sixteen grandchildren, and I have built a fruit tree nursery. But with the nursery I have great problems. Someone, a neighbor near the land where I keep the saplings, frequently destroys them — not one or two, but thousands. He wants to drive me off the market and ruin me. I have complained to the police countless times — but there is no trace of the culprit.

I see that I am truly cursed: the hard years of detention and suffering were not enough, and now, even in old age, my life has become a nightmare.”

Traian Neamțu, president of the Association of Former Political Prisoners of Romania, Cluj branch (editor’s note – also passed away in 2019), recalls: “I was together with Victor Maghear, as a prisoner, in Balta Brăilei, at Stoenești and at Grădina, between 1959 and 1960. Moreover, I worked in the same colony, brigade, and team with him, building the flood protection dyke, which had a base of 40 meters and a height of 7. There we consumed our days, and dozens of people died before our eyes. We had to carry them on our backs back to the colony after they died. Victor was one of the prisoners who did not strive to fulfill quotas, because he fought by any means against communism. He had great strength of character; you could always count on him. I remember once he caught a brigade leader informing on fellow prisoners for a double food portion. Victor beat him nearly to death — a source of joy for all of us.”

(2009)

Article published in the volume LIFE WORKS WITH OTHER DATA, EIKON Publishing House, Cluj-Napoca, 2010.