Toronto, Canada's largest city and capital of the province of Ontario, is a sprawling metropolis of some six million people on the northern shore of Lake Ontario. Its population is highly diversified ethnically and culturally. Hungarians constitute one of the smaller minority groups; according to the latest published figures they number approximately 30,000. Most Hungarian immigrants came to Toronto after World War II and the 1956 Revolution.

Visible evidence of the Hungarian presence in Toronto is sparse and scattered. There is the Hungarian Canadian Cultural Centre (Hungarian House) at 141 Sunrise Avenue, Budapest Park down by the lakeshore, a statue of poet Endre Ady by Geza Csorba on the campus of the University of Toronto, and a handful of restaurants. The iconic Coffee Mill, owned and operated by Martha von Heczey, was a hallowed ground for Toronto's literati for five decades until declining health forced Martha to close it in September 2014. Several Hungarian churches of different denominations are the most conspicuous witnesses to the presence of Hungarians in the city.

Toronto is a relative newcomer to the ranks of the world's great cities. It was founded as York in 1796 as the capital of Upper Canada (Ontario) by John Graves Simcoe, a naval officer appointed lieutenant-governor. The American Revolution had ended but a few years earlier and the British government, fearful of an American attack, wanted the new city to be a considerable distance from the border.
Simcoe's efforts and accomplishments are duly acknowledged in a multitude of historical writings. However, the contributions of his associates, which were considerable, tend to be overlooked to this very day. Among these is William Berczy. According to John Andre, author of Berczy's scholarly biography, Berczy deserves to be credited as a co-founder of Toronto.

Who was this Berczy? Looking at the spelling of the name it suggests the possibility of Hungarian origin. Actually, Berczy was a German with interesting connections to Hungary. A man of many talents, Berczy was born in Swabia as Johann Albrecht Ulrich Moll. The Moll family enjoyed a high status and respect in the region, with several family members holding responsible civic positions. After receiving a thorough education, which included studies at the University of Jena, young Berczy went abroad on business to England and places on the continent. One of these peregrinations took him to Hungary.

While there he encountered a band of brigands. Some sources claim he was captured by them. Apparently these outlaws were all cast in the chivalrous mold of Robin Hood. They entertained him as an esteemed guest and called him Berci, the Hungarian equivalent of Bertie. With nothing but pleasant memories from this adventure, he decided to adopt the "fancified" form of Berci as his surname, hence Berczy. (Hungarian family names can be "fancified" or "upgraded" by replacing certain letters and/or adding extraneous ones.) Thus was J. A. U. Moll transformed into William Berczy. A number of memorials and place names recall Berczy's activities in the Toronto area; one of them being Berczy Park in the heart of the old city.

When the Town of York was renamed Toronto in 1834 and was incorporated as a city, its population was still small, just a few thousand. Municipal boundaries were confined to the area of the modern downtown core.

The revolutionary tide which swept across Europe in 1848 didn't go unnoticed in Toronto. Indeed, the leading newspapers of the city assiduously reported on the important events and leading figures.
The unsuccessful 1848-49 War of Liberation, led by the charismatic patriot Lajos Kossuth, prompted several thousand Hungarians to go abroad. They constituted the first significant wave of emigrants. Most of them made their way to the United States, others settled in Great Britain, and some found new homes in Italy, Australia and other parts of the globe. Károly Mária Kertbeny's German-language book
Alfabetische Namensliste ungarischer Emigration, 1848-1864, lists the bulk of the emigres and their destinations. Interestingly enough, not a single individual is denoted as having chosen one of the provinces or territories that would confederate into Canada in 1867.

However, there was at least one of the political refugees who visited Toronto. He was Gábor Naphegyi, a somewhat mysterious and controversial figure, who is usually denoted as a journalist. While in Toronto during the spring of 1851 he made a very positive and lasting impression on the citizenry.

Naphegyi gave lectures on the War of Liberation as well as on sundry other topics. For example, one of his presentations dealt with the cultivation of the sugar beet. Some of Naphegyi's talks were delivered in St. Lawrence Hall, Toronto's superb cultural center in which Jenny Lind, the Swedish Nightingale, thrilled audiences a few months later. In his memoirs, entitled Toronto "Called Back" from 1892 to 1847, C. C. Taylor comments on his sojourn as follows: " [...] Monsieur Napheygi, Secretary to the celebrated Louis Kossuth, the Hungarian patriot and orator, who had visited Toronto, assisted in the celebration of Her Majesty's birthday by a grand display of fire-works in front of the Parliament Buildings."

There are some claims that Kossuth himself paid a visit to Canada while touring the United States from December 1851 to July 1852. The diaries and reminiscences of two members of his entourage, Ferenc Pulszky and Károly László, not to mention a vast array of contemporary newspaper articles, conclusively refute such assertion. Kossuth came to Buffalo and went to gaze at Niagara Falls but never crossed the border. There was no point in visiting a sparsely settled, unimportant British colony when he had already made contact with many leading English public figures during his whirlwind tour of
Queen Victoria's realm prior to crossing the Atlantic Ocean.

Toronto grew rapidly during the ensuing decades and visitors found it an appealing community. American captain Willard Glazier, a prolific author and Civil War veteran, was favorably impressed by Toronto's churches, hotels, schools and sundry other public buildings as attested in his 1886 book Peculiarities of American Cities. Although he didn't delve into the characteristics of the city's population or into municipal politics, he did make the following observation: "An educated populace is growing up, and Toronto already ranks well, in general intelligence and public enterprise, with other cities of like magnitude in the States while it outranks all others on Canadian soil."

"I find the inhabitants British in heart, in tastes, and habits," affirmed a French visitor in 1891. "The suburbs are exceedingly pretty. [...] It reminds me of England. I admire many buildings, the University especially."

Out of the total population in the early 1880's of 86,000 over 80,000 were English, Irish and Scotch. Toronto was definitely not a diversified, multicultural city in those days.

Large scale Hungarian immigration to Canada began in the 1880's. The destination of the newcomers was chiefly the prairie provinces in response to the federal government's policy of granting land to settlers on very favorable terms. The politicians realized that buffaloes, bears, wolves, cayotes and other assorted wildlife roaming the sparsely populated regions weren't revenue generating units unlike industrious farmers. Hence, the immigration policy wasn't a philanthropic gesture; it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

The influx of people from the continent did not agree with certain elements. For example, B. Stewart, writing in his 1908 book The Land of the Maple Leaf, echoed the sentiments of many: "I have also attempted to point out the danger to the Empire arising from the indiscriminate immigration into Canada by Russian and Galician Jews, Greeks, Germans, Dutch, Poles, Hungarians and Italians, and even Syrians and Turks, and other people, who, estimable as they may be in the land of their birth, are not the kind of material from which the British Empire has been made in the past, nor of which it should be built in the future."

Stewart also pointed out what sort of occupations and skills were in demand and useful in Canada and what types of pursuits could be deemed superfluous. "One of the burning questions of the hour in Canada, and more particularly in the west, is that of unskilled and semi-skilled labor in her lumber mills, farms, mines, and the construction of her railways. She does not want highly skilled professional men, such as lawyers, doctors, architects, electrical, mechanical, or even civil engineers, [...] the demand for such being fully met by the local supply."

Immigrants to Canada today receive a broad spectrum of assistance from several governmental agencies to ease the transition. The private sector, particularly financial institutions, also provide help in a variety of ways. It's a far cry from the not-too-distant past when newcomers had to fend for themselves. Such attitudes enabled unscrupulous elements to take advantage of them and exploit them. "A great many immigrants have been lost to Canada by what may be termed a policy of neglect after their arrival," noted the Globe on January 15, 1897. Nowadays interpreters in more than a hundred languages are available to facilitate communications. Official documents, flyers and sundry other releases are printed in innumerable languages. Wrote the aforementioned Globe article: "Germans, Hungarians, Austrians, Mennonites, and other Europeans [...] have not had even an interpreter to meet them at the port of landing and instruct them as to their subsequent journey." In conclusion, the paper declared: "Too much attention now has been given to promiscuous advertising abroad and far too little to care for immigrants after their arrival."

Immigrants to Canada had to become acclimatized not only to the weather but also to the country's political atmosphere. Nowadays colorful figures, representing the interests of the masses, seek the popular vote to gain political office. But for many decades, exceeding a century as a matter of fact, municipal and provincial governments in Ontario were dominated by the Orange Order, an organization dedicated to Protestant ascendancy and loyalty to the British Empire. Toronto was the epicenter of Canadian Orangeism and every mayor during the first half of the 20th century was an Orangeman. Sixteen of the 23 members of City Council in 1942 were Orangemen.

That discrimination was rampant in Toronto and other parts of the country needs no elaboration. Profuse apologies by various levels of government to mistreated groups are an eloquent testimony. If stories in newspapers, magazines and on the Internet and TV newscasts are any indication, discrimination and similar social ills are still flourishing.

Even such an eminent personage as Goldwin Smith was not immune to discrimination. Prior to settling in Toronto in 1872, the English-born scholar attained a scintillating career in his native land and at Cornell University in the United States. G. Mercer Adams' Toronto Old and New, published in 1891, refers to him as "one of the greatest of modern Englishmen in our midst" and lauded his efforts to "bring into favour independent journalism, and win full freedom of speech."

Smith was an ardent advocate of commercial union with the United States. While not an outright "annexationist," he was firmly convinced that political union with America was the ultimate destiny of Canada. Such beliefs made him unpopular in certain circles. The aforementioned C. C. Taylor exclaimed in his book: "It is unaccountable that so distinguished a litterateur as Professor Goldwin Smith, who is so strong an advocate of a United Empire, can be so inconsistent as to argue in favour of Commercial Union, knowing, as he must, that it will tend towards political union, and if entertained at all by the United States, would be only a step towards annexation."

Smith's beliefs particularly aroused the ire of Toronto's ruling oligarchy. They were willing to overlook Smith's strong antipathy toward Jews and the Irish, but not something which could threaten their privileged status. Consequently, it came as no surprise that Smith was blackballed when he came up for membership in an exclusive club. Political correctness was as important then as it is now.

Toronto's Hungarian population grew very slowly. Even as late as 1940, the city's Hungarian community counted only about 5,000 souls. A substantial portion of the Hungarians coming to Ontario chose to settle in other cities and towns of the province.

Hungarians interested in agricultural pursuits gravitated to the vicinity of Delhi, Tillsonburg, Otterville and other communities in south-western Ontario where tobacco farming thrived. Hungarian immigrants were also involved in other aspects of this industry; for example, József Horváth, owner of the Ontario Tobacco Co. in Toronto, employed 33 workers and processed some 200,000 lbs of tobacco annually. In recent years tobacco farms have largely disappeared due to the adverse health effects attributed to smoking. Fortunately, another botanical, even more avidly sought by consumers, has been identified as an affordable and safe replacement.

Toronto never had a predominantly Hungarian neighborhood; there was no Hungarian equivalent to Little Italy, Greektown, Little Portugal and Chinatown. This was primarily due to lack of numbers. Only here and there was the Hungarian presence noticeable. Faced with limited opportunities and short on financial resources, a number of pre-World War II Hungarians took up residence in the deteriorated, low-rent area bounded by Beverly Street and Spadina Avenue, from east to east to west, and by Queen Street and College Street, from south to North, a distinctly immigrant district. They lived there under deplorable housing conditions until improvements in their economic circumstances allowed them to move to better locations.

The outbreak of World War I in 1914 unleashed war hysteria of unmitigated proportions and an outburst of suspicion and animosity against people with any form connection to the enemy. The city of Berlin was renamed Kitchener in honor of British field marshal and statesman Horatio Herbert Kitchener. The fighting on the battlefield was quickly accompanies by a frenzied propaganda war, attesting to the axiom "Truth is the first casualty of war." The Great War didn't end all wars nor made the world safe for democracy. The vindictive and unjust treaties imposed on the defeated nations sowed the seeds of discontent for another global conflict.

The most famous Hungarian residents of Toronto between the world wars were Geza de Kresz and Nicholas Hornyansky. Both were readily accepted by Toronto's tiny intellectual community and both enjoyed success in their chosen professions.

Geza de Kresz, an outstanding violinist, was a pupil of the internationally renowned Jenő Hubay and an acclaimed performer in several European capitals before coming to Canada with his English-born wife, née Norah Drewett, in 1921. He is best remembered as the first violin of the famous Hart House String Quartet, an ensemble sponsored by Vincent Massey, a distinguished scion of the wealthy Massey family. Nora herself was an accomplished pianist.

Geza's group quickly gained fame and admirers at home and abroad. After a recital at New York City's Aeolian Hall on the evening of November 18, 1925, the New York Times praised their performance, saying that "they emerged from the test with flying colors and that "their work hinged well together; it was individual yet cooperative." The Musical Times, February 1, 1929, referred to Geza as "one of the finest artists who has ever made this city [Toronto] his home."

Hornyansky, a descendant of a prominent family, arrived in Toronto in after spending time in Belgium and France furthering his artistic skills. His wife, née Joyce Sands, was a cellist of considerable reputation who appeared a number of times in Toronto with Geza de Kresz. Unlike the marriage of Geza and Nora the relationship between Nicholas and Joyce was rather rocky and was observed as such by no less a person than Northrup Frye, the outstanding literary critic, regarded as one of the most influential of theoretical critics in our time. On a happier note, Michael, their son, was Ontario's top high school graduate in 1945 and went on to carve out a distinguished career as professor of English literature.

Hornyansky loved Toronto's old buildings and captured many of them on his canvases. Therefore, it's not surprising that his works grace the front and back cover of William Kilbourn's Toronto Remembered, a book published in 1984 written to commemorate Toronto's sesquicentennial as a city. His 1943 rendering of the St. Lawrence Market, an aquatint on paper, was used in the promotion of a historical exhibit focusing on that venerable building held in The Market Gallery from October 2011 to February 2012.

Due to their small numbers, Hungarians in Toronto had to integrate into mainstream society; they couldn't maintain a cohesiveness and isolation which still characterizes certain larger groups. Contact with the old country wasn't altogether severed, and prominent figures from Hungary visited Toronto and other parts of Canada.

Toronto was one of the stops on the North American tour of Count Albert Apponyi, the revered long-time statesman. Described in The Toronto Daily Star of October 15, 1923 as "a master of many languages" and a man of "rare and powerful charm," Count Apponyi addressed the Empire Club and spoke at Convocation Hall on the campus of the University of Toronto. His principal theme was the injustices inflicted on Hungary by the Treaty of Trianon and the foolish and dangerous post-war foreign policy pursued by the victorious Allies.

In the spring of 1925 a small delegation of physicians from Hungary came to Toronto to learn more about insulin from Dr. Frederick Banting and Dr. Charles Best. One of the greatest medical discoveries of recent times, the findings of the two scientists gave hope to countless millions afflicted by diabetes. Among the delegates was Dr. L. Karczag, and he invited his old friend, the celebrated artist Tibor Pólya, on a mission in New York, to come up to Toronto. Given Pólya's fame, his brief stay in the city was given extensive coverage by the media. Pólya, a brilliant improviser, amazed and entertained a large gathering at Hart House with his quick sketches and caricatures of "astonishing essential veracity." One of his subjects was none other than Dr. Banting. Invited to see the provincial legislature in action at Queen's Park, his deft and revealing drawings captured Prime Minister George Howard Ferguson and a number of other politicians. While discussing art in general, Pólya did not hesitate to proclaim his admiration for Lawren Harris, one of the School of Seven (the Group of Seven), calling him the greatest contemporary artist in Europe and America. Incidentally, Harris' Mountain Forms, painted in 1926, was sold this year for millions of dollars, placing it among the most expensive Canadian artwork at auction.

Hungarian Minister of the Interior Baron Zsigmond Perényi toured Canada in the spring of 1928, with a special emphasis on visiting Hungarian settlements in the western provinces. A member of his entourage was journalist Ödön Paizs who, upon returning to Hungary, recounted the trip in the book entitled Magyarok Kanadában [Hungarians in Canada ]. Like the aforementioned Stewart, he stressed that Canada needed physically strong workers and not highly trained professionals and intellectuals. He predicted dire consequences for immigrants who intend to seek a livelyhood by means other than manual labor. While Paizs was impressed by what he saw in the west, he was less than enthusiastic, downright critical as a matter of fact, by conditions in the eastern part of the country. He dismissed Toronto as a destination for immigrants, advising them to seek their fortunes in Hamilton, Welland, Brantford, and Port Colborne where nascent manufacturing industries offered opportunities to job seekers.

Two years before Paizs another Hungarian by the name of Sámuel Zágonyi toured the prairie provinces and committed his observations and experiences to paper. A retired lieutenant-colonel of the royal Hungarian army, he worked as an ordinary laborer to gain a realistic perspective into emigration and immigrant life. His book, entitled simply Kanada [Canada], contains valuable insights, lots of basic facts, as well as the intimate stories of several newcomers. On page 125 Zágonyi warns the reader that hunting on Sundays is strictly forbidden throughout Canada and transgressors face heavy fines. Zágonyi adds that hunting is but one of the numerous activities verboten on Sundays in Canada.

It's no wonder that Toronto had the image of a dull and Puritanical town in the old days. However, even with a long list of do's and don'ts in place, the resourceful segment of the population had no difficulties in finding suitable diversions. For example, a recent exhibition at the University of Toronto - consisting of books, photos, posters and flyers - vividly illustrated that prostitution has always been a thriving, recession-proof business in the city. Hence, prostitutes - dubbed "noctavagious strumpetocracy" by the witty New York lawyer and diarist George Templeton Strong - were on call every day.

The onset of the Great Depression exerted an enormous impact throughout the entire world. Reflecting on the era, Professor Nandor Dreisziger wrote in his Struggle and Hope: The Hungarian-Canadian Experience: "Perhaps no event had a more profound and more lasting impact on the history of Hungarian-Canadian society during the first half of the present century than the Great Depression. The crisis wrought havoc on the economic and social development of all of Canada. It ruined the country's staple economy, drove farm prices to record lows, forced thousands of farmers and businessmen into bankruptcy, and produced unemployment rate in excess of 25% of the labour force. The brunt of the adversity was borne by the poorer classes and minorities, and few groups suffered more than the Hungarians."

The Great Depression generated a slew of poignant stories. Undoubtedly the one reflecting the gritty conditions of the times most faithfully is John Steinbeck's novel The Grapes of Wrath, chronicling the migration of the Joad family from Oklahoma to California in search of work and a better existence. The movie of the same name, with Henry Fonda in the starring role, is equally powerful.

The Globe's September 3, 1932 edition ran an article about "Little Budapest," a migrant camp of some 80 to 200 Hungarian men near Delhi seeking work in the surrounding tobacco fields. While typical hobo camps were characterized by shelters erected from an assortment of discards, abundant trash, and unsanitary conditions, this camp contained neatly constructed and maintained huts. Each was numbered and arranged in an orderly fashion. The staple diet of the men consisted of bread and milk, occasionally supplemented by fruits and vegetables. Because migrants and their camps were viewed as nuisances and a blight on the civic landscape, local police were under instructions to do their utmost to harrass, disperse and urge them to move elsewhere. However, in this case, the police refrained from the usual tactics, viewing the inhabitants as hard-workers down on their luck and not as potential troublemakers.

The dark and desperate days of the Great Depression are long gone. Canada has been reveling in unprecedented prosperity for years and disposable income of individuals depends only on personal initiative. Canada's dominance and world leadership in economic affairs is practically a daily staple of the media. The most telling feature of the robust economy in Toronto is the long line of eager buyers for multimillion dollar homes and the frenzied bidding wars to obtain them. Furthermore, luxury car sales are routinely setting new records, airports are jammed with vacationers coming from and going to exotic destinations, and upscale stores are flooding the city. Inflation has been negligible and is likely to remain so. No one is particularly worried about taxes because - as pointed out in the Toronto Star, November 23, 2016 - "Tax hikes will work to improve our lives."

While unemployment exceeded 25% during the Great Depression, an acute labor shortage prevails nowadays in just about every segment of the economy. Neither expanded educational programs or increased immigration have been able to solve this thorny problem. Outsourcing offers a ray of hope in many cases; for example, there are Canadians who rely on highly qualified experts in Panama to attend to all their financial matters.

Canada's pre-eminence in fields other than economic are also well known and thoroughly documented. Therefore, it's no surprise to see headlines such as "Canada Envy of the World" printed in the October 7, 2016 edition of 24 Hours Toronto.

It wouldn't be idle gasconading to state that Hungarian immigrants have contributed mightily in the attainment of this lofty status and will continue to do so. The accomplishments and contributions of Canadian-Hungarians would fill many volumes. Presented below are a few examples.

George Jonas was a respected journalist and author of several books; his By Persons Unknown, chronicling the Demeter murder case, gripped Toronto in the early 1970s. Widely acclaimed writer Stephen Vizinczey lived in Toronto when he wrote In Praise of Older Women, later made into a successful film starring Tom Berenger. Robert Lantos has long been a key figure in the Canadian film industry. George Faludy has entries in every major literary encyclopedia. He came to Toronto in 1967 and from 1975 until 1989 lived at 25 St. Mary Street. A parkette, with historical plaques across the street, is dedicated to him.

Andre Szasz, internationally renowned artist, lived in Toronto from 1970 to 1974. While a resident of the city, his posters enjoyed enormous popularity. Dora Pedery-Hunt, known especially for her medals and small scale sculpture, is represented in collections throughout the globe and was the recipient of innumerable awards.

The Rekai brothers, John and Paul, both outstanding physicians, founded Central Hospital, 333 Sherbourne Street, nicknamed Canada's "Language" Hospital. The Spark, the institute's official organ, contained many interesting stories about its staff and activities. Kati Rekai, Dr. John's wife, was an award-winning author of children's books and a member of the Order of Canada.

Barrick Gold, a leading Canadian company, was established by resource executive Peter Munk. Andrew Zsolt, a distinguished engineer and developer, was the founder of the Induction group of companies. He is best remembered as the creator of Lagoon City, the visionary resort complex on the eastern shore of Lake Simcoe. George Vari was a prominent engineer, developer and generous philanthropist whose activities extended far beyond the borders of Canada. A member of the Order of Canada since 1989, he was appointed a lifetime member of the Queen's Privy Council for Canada in 1992. According to one of the books recounting the happy days under Brian Mulrooney, Vari was a veritable mentor to the Prime Minister.

Incidentally, hour-long episodes on the lives and accomplishments of Dora Pedery-Hunt and the Rekai family have been aired several times in recent years on OMNI TV.

To the above listing may be added the names of three Hungarian immigrants who probably never set foot in Canada yet their contributions are integral part of the daily lives of most Canadians. The first is Eugene Fodor, creator of Fodor's Guide, that indispensible information-filled series of publications that Canadians invariably consult when considering a vacation or a retirement spot. László Biró and his brother György invented the ball point pen in the late 1930s. Hence, it's no wonder that in some countries such a pen is called a biro. On the March 22, 2016 telecast of the popular game show Jeopardy! Biró was the subject of one of the questions. American and Canadian football afficionados know that before Pete Gogolak came along placekickers wore awkward, square-toed, weighed shoes for kickoffs, field goals, and PATs. Pete, a star at Cornell University and later with the Bills and Giants, revolutionized the game by employing soccer-style kick. His innovative approach sent the likes of Lou "The Toe" Groza out to pasture. Incidentally, Pete's younger brother Charlie, a star at Princeton and a professional with the Redskins, was also a proficient sidewinder.

Churches always played an important function in the lives of immigrants from Europe and Hungarians were no exception. Indeed, Hungarian emigrant life between the two world wars was centered around churches. Churches were not only guardians of the faith and to a certain extent, education, but also helped to preserve culture, customs and language.

Toronto's Hungarian Presbyterian congregation was formed in 1926 and struggled with a multitude of issues during its formative years. Taking charge in 1932 after complete reorganization was the capable and dynamic Karoly Steinmetz, then a divinity student at Knox College of the University of Toronto. It was he, immeasurably aided by his dedicated wife, née Piroska Bernath, who led the flock through the trying times of the Great Depression. Ordained in 1937, Steinmetz also launched a vigorous campaign to erect a church to house the faithful. With money raised by the parishioners and supplemented by donations from Toronto's Presbyterian community and the Toronto Daily Star, the dream was realized in 1938. The church on McCaul Street, just below College Street and built according to Steinmetz's designs, was dedicated on February 5, 1939.

The building still stands although the congregation has moved decades ago to a more spacious and imposing edifice on Vaughan Road, near Vaughan Collegiate. The original structure, reflecting the changing ethnic composition of the city's neighborhoods, served as a Chinese youth club in the 1970s. In those days it still looked very much like the way it did in 1939. Since then the building has been altered by the addition of a second floor and is presently the home of the Holy Word Church.
Weathering has not substantially damaged the legibility of the inscription on the cornerstone.

Deserving the lion's share of the credit for organizing the Catholic parish of St. Elizabeth were the Reverend Laszlo Forgacs and Dr. Istvan Lesko, a dentist whose father had emigrated to Toronto from Kaposvár in 1889. A few years later, in 1929 to be more specific, the Catholic Circle was organized and its premises on Beverley Street became a cultural center of all Hungarians. Under the auspices of St. Elizabeth, the first nationwide Catholic summer camp was held in 1935. Two yeears afterwards the church started to celebrate Hungarian Day on August 20th, the feast of St. Stephen of Hungary, and it became an annual event. As late as 1939, however, St. St. Elizabeth didn't have a church of its own, only a small chapel. Today, St. Elizabeth, near the intersection of Bayview and Shepherd Avenues, is a focal point of Hungarian life in Toronto.

Other denominations wrestled with trials and tribulations very much like those encountered by the Catholics and Presbyterians. The leading cleric among the Hungarian Lutherans was the Rev. Jenő Ruzsa. Today he is better remembered as the author of that excellent book A kanadai magyarság története [The History of Canadian-Hungarians], published in 1940. As related by the good reverend, formation of the Hungarian Lutheran congregation began in 1928 and religious services in the early years were conducted at the German Lutheran church on Bond Street whose congregation was formed in 1851. Today Toronto's Hungarian Lutherans still worship at this location. In 1976, on its 125th anniversary, the church displayed a huge banner emblazoned with the greetings Willkommen, Welcome, Vällkommen, and Isten hozta.

The unfair treaties of World War I and the Great Depression ushered in demagogues and dictators, general economic misery, and widespread local and international political turmoil during the 1930's. The Spanish Civil War dominated much of the headlines. Mussolini's Italy attempted to extend conquests in East Africa. Hitler's Germany annexed Austria in 1938 which was quickly followed by the Munich Pact. "Everywhere arms factories are clanging and men are marching over ground littered with fragments of torn up treaties," said a highly respected Canadian professor of international law during an address at the Canadian Club on April 20, 1936.

British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain returned in triumph in wake of the Munich Pact, bringing as he put it, "peace in our time." He was by no means the only leader who wished to avoid war. Canadian Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King longed for a policy of "peace at almost any price." Reluctant to refurbish Canadian armaments, he was only too eager to believe that "they also serve who only stand and wait."

Due to relentless Communist propaganda, assiduously spread by the Comintern and their local stooges, many gullible and naive Canadians began to regard Stalin's Soviet Union as the paradise of the future. It was not only the desperate unemployed and the unsophisticated who were victimized by the carefully orchestrated Communist blandishments. Even such educated and well-off Canadian Establishment figures as Spencer Clark, best remembered today as the founder of The Guild of All Arts, a haven for artists and craftsmen, were among the deluded. In 1931 he visited the Soviet Union and was greatly impressed by what he saw. Upon returning to Toronto, he gave numerous lectures extolling Stalin's domain. It can be safely assumed that the forced labor camps, mass executions, genocides, and show trials were not part of the celebrated itinerary.

Scattered throughout Toronto are monuments by Hungarians, Ukrainians, Poles, Latvians and others recalling and condemning the atrocities and brutality of Communist regimes. Given their avowed dogma and despicable deeds, Communists certainly deserve to be labelled as purveyors of hate crimes. Interestingly enough, while even an innocuous or thoughtless remark can raise the specter of hate crime and unleash the full weight of the law in Canada today, the odious label has yet to be affixed to Communists.

Delegates from various Hungarian organizations met in April 1939 to establish a non-denominational Hungarian House mainly to foster Hungarian identity and culture. Playing a prominent role in this endeavor were the Rev. Ruzsa and Nicholas Hornyansky. It was not an easy task to reconcile the objectives of different groups, overcome petty jealousies, clear up misunderstandings, and formulate realistic policies. Hindering the efforts most seriously were the lingering effects of the Depression and the impending world war. Despite all the obstacles the Torontói Magyar Ház (Hungarian House of Toronto) became a reality. However, the acquisition of a building of its own had to be deferred until after World War II. Hungarian House was located on College Street, near Spadina Avenue, and for many years on St. Clair Avenue West, close to Oakwood Avenue. As mentioned, the current Hungarian center is located at 141 Sunrise Avenue.

Canadian history books tend to emphasize Germany and Italy as the main military aggressors in the 1930's but Stalin's Soviet Union was equally busy in imperialist expansion, overrunning the Baltic States in 1938 and then attacking Finland in the Winter War. The German-Soviet Pact of 1939, also known as the Ribbentrop-Molotov Pact, came as a shock to many. Pessimists and wiser elements, however, perceived its true objective, jockying for advantageous position in the coming war.

The situation was especially precarious for the small countries lying between Germany and the Soviet Union. Toronto's Hungarian community was well aware of the situation confronting the old homeland. Hornyansky tried to explain Hungary's delicate position in letters to the city's newspapers. With Torontonians firmly committed to the interests and policies of the British Empire, his comments were met with the uninformed, ignorant and prejudicial reaction that is all too common to this very day.

The long anticipated conflict erupted on September 1, 1939, when Germany attacked Poland. Like in World War I, the years of fighting saw the loss of millions of lives, terrible hardships, atrocities, and the resurrection of hysterical propaganda. It also marked the first, and hopefully the last, time that nuclear weapons were employed. The Nuremberg war crimes trials constituted the final phase of the war and after a brief interlude the Cold War commenced.

Although the Nuremberg trials covered a broad range of issues, they neglected to mention much less address the biggest war crime of them all. This crime, without question the most shameful crime ever perpetrated in human history, was to allow Stalin and his henchmen to take over vast territories and enslave millions.

The literature - i.e. books, magazine articles, pamphlets, newspaper stories, etc. - on Hungarian immigrants in Canada, with substantial references to Toronto, is extensive. Some of the writing is well-researched, thoughtful and thorough. Some, especially, dry governmental reports buttressed with a multitude of statistical tables, tend to be dull. Some are permeated with a variety of major and minor inaccuracies, dubious conclusions, gratuitous fawning in order to please the sponsoring organizations, and outright silly remarks. Among the most informative, comprehensive and faithful accounts are the aforementioned works of Dreisziger, Ruzsa and Paizs.

In his article 'The Hungarians," appearing in the February 16, 1957, edition of Maclean's Magazine, the distinguished Canadian literary figure Peter C. Newman, wrote: "The Hungarian refugees cannot be compared with any of the other European immigrant groups that have arrived here since the war. By origin, they are not European at all, but the descendants of a wild Asiatic tribe that invaded the Danube River basin in the ninth century." Clearly, Mr. Newman didn't consult any scholarly works while ruminating on the subject.

Another example, though for a different reason, is The Kanadai Magyar Ujsag and the Politics of the Hungarian Canadian Elite, 1928-1938. Released in 1978 as an occasional paper by the Multicultural History Society of Ontario, this slim volume was originally prepared for a graduate seminar in Canadian history at the University of Toronto. As its title indicates it reviews the role of that Hungarian-language newspaper in the specified era.. Excerpts from the paper are given only in English translation but the paper itself is commonly referred to as Ujság throughout the text, being underlined rather than italicized. It is the most conspicuous word in the text yet it is repeatedly misspelled as Usjág. Even keeping in mind that this treatise was prepared before the advent of word processors and spellcheckers, such blatant error implies haste, negligence and gross carelessness, casting doubts over the entire content.

Undoubtedly other ethnic groups could raise similar concerns. Hopefully, mainstream Canadian writers in the future will be more circumspect than those in the past.