Rescuers of Jews
Dobrovolskis Algirdas Mykolas
Eduardas Gutmanas
All of our family was hiding in different places, but we always met at my mother's at 11 Parodos Street. We even had a hideout in the attic there. Bronius Gotautas, with whom I often met, would also come. Bronius was an unusually interesting person. When I once asked him why he had only become a brother, that is, a monastery servant, instead of becoming a monk, he replied that in order to become a monk one needed an education. Bronius was a man with an exceptionally noble soul, but without any schooling. I even doubt he could write. He would never talk about politics, philosophy, or even religion. Religious fanaticism was alien to him, and, unlike other priests, he would never force or as much as suggest that the Jews convert to Catholicism. Nevertheless, before each meal, Bronius would quietly say a prayer and cross himself. His call was to serve people. He lived an ascetic life; his clothes were patched all over but always clean; he would wear shoes only in winter – in summer he walked barefoot. He did not have a permanent address. He would sleep where the night caught him. It should be emphasized – whatever he did, he did without any benefit to himself. I do not know a single person he rescued from whom he took money or any other offerings. He would never speak of the people he had rescued, never mention their names. Bronius would not only supply Jews with papers, but, even more importantly, he would find shelter for them. For that purpose he would resort to his numerous acquaintances, who were ordinary townspeople and villagers. He kept close contact with priest Algirdas-Mykolas Dobrovolskis, who would provide fictitious passports or baptism certificates. Bronius Gotautas was deeply respected and dearly accepted by everyone. An excellent psychologist, he knew the people whom he was meeting very well, understood the advantages and shortcomings of each of them. Some he trusted completely, from others he withheld certain things.
During the last years of the occupation, the Gestapo was informed of Gotautas' activities and started looking for him. But how can you catch a man who himself does not know where he would be the next day?
Around 1946 my father received a letter from Bronius, postmarked West Germany (most likely he dictated the letter to somebody else). In it, Gotautas wrote that he was seriously ill, that he had spent some time in a camp, and carefully asked if it was worthwhile for him to return. We discussed the matter in the family and, considering how those that returned were treated at the time, we very diplomatically advised him not to do that. Our contact with him ended.
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 2,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 1999
All of our family was hiding in different places, but we always met at my mother's at 11 Parodos Street. We even had a hideout in the attic there. Bronius Gotautas, with whom I often met, would also come. Bronius was an unusually interesting person. When I once asked him why he had only become a brother, that is, a monastery servant, instead of becoming a monk, he replied that in order to become a monk one needed an education. Bronius was a man with an exceptionally noble soul, but without any schooling. I even doubt he could write. He would never talk about politics, philosophy, or even religion. Religious fanaticism was alien to him, and, unlike other priests, he would never force or as much as suggest that the Jews convert to Catholicism. Nevertheless, before each meal, Bronius would quietly say a prayer and cross himself. His call was to serve people. He lived an ascetic life; his clothes were patched all over but always clean; he would wear shoes only in winter – in summer he walked barefoot. He did not have a permanent address. He would sleep where the night caught him. It should be emphasized – whatever he did, he did without any benefit to himself. I do not know a single person he rescued from whom he took money or any other offerings. He would never speak of the people he had rescued, never mention their names. Bronius would not only supply Jews with papers, but, even more importantly, he would find shelter for them. For that purpose he would resort to his numerous acquaintances, who were ordinary townspeople and villagers. He kept close contact with priest Algirdas-Mykolas Dobrovolskis, who would provide fictitious passports or baptism certificates. Bronius Gotautas was deeply respected and dearly accepted by everyone. An excellent psychologist, he knew the people whom he was meeting very well, understood the advantages and shortcomings of each of them. Some he trusted completely, from others he withheld certain things.
During the last years of the occupation, the Gestapo was informed of Gotautas' activities and started looking for him. But how can you catch a man who himself does not know where he would be the next day?
Around 1946 my father received a letter from Bronius, postmarked West Germany (most likely he dictated the letter to somebody else). In it, Gotautas wrote that he was seriously ill, that he had spent some time in a camp, and carefully asked if it was worthwhile for him to return. We discussed the matter in the family and, considering how those that returned were treated at the time, we very diplomatically advised him not to do that. Our contact with him ended.
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 2,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 1999