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Int'l Business Times
02-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Int'l Business Times
Before the Silence Falls: How 'The Last Ones' Is Preserving Holocaust Memory for a New Generation
Time is running out. Fewer than 245,000 Holocaust survivors are alive today. With each passing day, that number shrinks—and with it, the living connection to the past. Soon, the world will lose its last witnesses to a horror that defies comprehension. But one organization is working urgently to make sure that when the voices go quiet, the stories won't. The Last Ones is not a museum. It's not a textbook. It's a movement—one that meets history where it lives: in the hearts and words of the survivors who are still here, and in the eyes of the next generation who must carry their memory forward. At its core, The Last Ones is a global storytelling initiative co-founded by French-American journalist Leslie Benitah, herself the granddaughter of four Holocaust survivors. What began as a personal journey to understand her family's silence has become a sweeping, multimedia project spanning continents, languages, and generations. Benitah doesn't record these testimonies in studios. She sits with survivors in their living rooms. Over coffee tables. In small kitchens. No scripts. No agenda. Just deep listening and earned trust. "These aren't interviews," she explains. "These are conversations survivors were never sure they'd live long enough to have." Each film captures more than history—it captures humanity. The smell of the bread their mothers baked. The knock on the door. The walk to the train. Life is rebuilt, brick by emotional brick. It's intimate. It's raw. And it's unforgettable. But what truly sets The Last Ones apart is how it speaks to today's youth. Its team has embraced the platforms young people live on—TikTok, Instagram, YouTube—creating short, emotionally charged videos that reach millions. Their most-watched clip? A 90-year-old survivor showing his striped concentration camp uniform. Over 7 million views. One minute. One man. A lifetime remembered. The organization has also developed a first-of-its-kind geo-located mobile app. Walk through Warsaw, Paris, or Berlin, and one's phone will light up with the testimony of a survivor who lived on that very street. It's memory, mapped. And students are paying attention. In Florida alone, thousands of public school classrooms now use The Last Ones ' short films and guided lesson plans. Teachers report that the emotional entry point helps students connect deeply, even those with little prior knowledge of the Holocaust. "We don't need kids to memorize dates," says Benitah. "We need them to understand what happens when we forget what hate looks like." The work hasn't gone unnoticed. Yad Vashem has offered its endorsement. The Claims Conference awarded a major grant for international expansion. And most recently, The Last Ones launched a new educational platform, offering free access to all their content—films, podcasts, teaching tools—to educators worldwide. Benitah describes it this way: " The Last Ones isn't just preserving history. It's keeping humanity awake." Indeed, what makes this project stand out isn't just its digital innovation—it's its moral clarity. In a time when disinformation, antisemitism, and extremism are once again rising, The Last Ones is not simply teaching the past. It's building a firewall for the future. Benitah puts it plainly: "If we don't give young people the tools to feel, to understand, to empathize—then we risk raising a generation that sees history as irrelevant. We can't let that happen. Not on our watch." As the last survivors grow fewer, the responsibility grows greater. The Last Ones is doing more than honoring memory—it's making sure memory has a voice that echoes forward. And that may be the most urgent story of all.
Boston Globe
18-06-2025
- General
- Boston Globe
She's 90. As part of the last generation of Holocaust survivors, she's racing to tell her story.
She's tired, but the 90-year-old just napped in the hourlong rush-hour ride from her home in Sharon. She isn't nervous because her daughter (and manager), Deb Milley, 'hyped her up,' but mostly because she has told her story to groups like this for the past 40 years. While the audience sizes vary from fewer than 50 people to more than 1,000, Applefield begins each speech in a similar way. 'I speak about the Holocaust because, as a result of World War II, between 50 million and 60 million people were killed,' Applefield says. Six million Jews, including 1.5 million Jewish children — and millions of non-Jews — were murdered during the Holocaust. Only about 11 percent of Jewish children in Europe survived. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up She was one of those surviving children. Advertisement At the end of WWII, there were an estimated 3.5 million Jewish survivors. Today, only about 220,000 are alive, some 6 percent, according to the April 2025 'Our time is almost up,' Gideon Taylor, president of the Claims Conference, says in the report. 'Our survivors are leaving us and this is the moment to hear their voices.' Applefield feels the urgency of the call. Last year, she spoke 90 times. But this year, she has already booked 60 speaking engagements at schools and community spaces — she sometimes gives as many as eight presentations in a week. She's driven by a feeling that if she can still tell her stories and those of people no longer here, they will not die with her. Advertisement 'I'm a witness of history,' Applefield says, 'and those who hear me are becoming witnesses also.' A photo of Applefield at age 4 flashes on the screen behind her. She's grinning mischievously, chubby legs emerging from a dress with bows. 'My birth name was not Janet. My birth name was Gustawa.' Before the war in Nowy Targ, Poland, Janet Applefield's mother, Maria Singer, holds her. From Janet Applefield In her hometown of Nowy Targ, Applefield lived a happy life with her mother, father, baby sister, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. She remembers flashes of her early childhood: riding on the back of her uncle's motorcycle to the candy store, and helping her mother and grandmother bake challah to eat on the Sabbath. But on September 1, 1939, when she was 4 years old, she tells the students, Hitler invaded Poland. Applefield's parents were each forced to wear an armband embroidered with the Star of David to identify them as Jews. The Gestapo took all of their valuables. Her family tried to escape several times. On the first attempt, they fled to Russia but were forced to turn around. On the journey, her 18-month-old sister contracted diphtheria, and, with no access to medical care, died. Upon their return, her father was arrested for being an alleged Communist because he had come from Russia. When he was finally released from jail days later, he knew they had to leave again. Their town had been designated 'Judenfrei' by the Nazis — 'free of Jews.' Advertisement They fled next to Krakow. Applefield remembers her father trying to cover her eyes as the train passed a gallows hung with three men in long beards, wearing signs that read 'Kosher Meat.' From Krakow, they passed from place to place, hoping to find friends or family to shelter them. Finally, traveling by horse-drawn wagon, they were spotted by Polish police and chased, then brutally beaten. Once again, they were forced to return to Nowy Targ. 'At that point, my parents realized that they had run out of all options,' Applefield says from the front of the room. 'They decided that in order to hopefully save my life, they would give me away.' Janet Applefield with a pet dog in an undated photo. From Janet Applefield One student in the room gasps. Others watch with their mouths open. Everyone's eyes are fixated on the woman seated at the front of the room. No phones are in sight. Applefield continues, explaining that she moved around through a series of homes — at first staying with her cousin's former nanny, then with a different cousin named Lala who changed Applefield's identity to obscure her Jewish roots. 'You are no longer Gustawa Singer,' Lala told her. 'Forget her. She is dead.' Lala had managed to obtain the birth certificate of a 7-year-old Polish Catholic girl who was killed alongside her parents when a bomb fell on their house in Warsaw. 'I took on this little girl's identity. I became her. Her name was Krystyna Antoszkiewicz. That was my new name,' Applefield recalls. She says her cousin verbally and physically abused her, including striking her with an iron poker and beating her so badly that her nails fell off. Advertisement Lala told Applefield to wait in a nearby church one day while she met a boyfriend at a coffee shop in Krakow. The Gestapo raided the cafe, and Lala never returned. At 7 years old, Applefield was on her own. She had wandered the streets for hours when she ran into a woman who was concerned to see a young girl alone. Applefield told the woman her fake story about being 'Krystyna.' The woman believed it and took Applefield to a farm where she would live for the next two years. Applefield with her father, Lolek Singer. Handout After the war, Applefield was brought to an orphanage. One day, the head of the orphanage visited a Jewish committee center in Krakow where there was a community board that posted a list of names of those who had survived. She overheard a man asking about his daughter. She had green eyes, he said, blond hair in braids, and a birthmark on her inner left thigh. The head of the orphanage immediately knew he was looking for Applefield. 'When she said she had you, my body collapsed,' her father told her when they were reunited. 'I fell to the floor and cried.' Applefield remembers being afraid when she saw him: he didn't look like her father. He looked like a skeleton. He had survived three concentration camps and a gunshot wound to the face — the bullet lodged in his cheekbone. Later, that bullet wound would help her father obtain a medical visa to come to New Jersey, where an uncle lived. And her father would remarry in order for them to stay and build a new life in America. Advertisement At age 11, Applefield went to school for the first time, and was told to choose an American name. She picked Jeanette, the name of a glamorous cousin who painted her fingernails red and lived in Paris. When her uncle introduced her to the administrator at school, he Americanized it, calling her 'Janet.' And that is who she became. Applefield holds a copy of a 1947 visa application for her and her father to enter New York. Shira Stoll Today, as survivor populations are dwindling, antisemitism is on the rise. Since the start of the Israel-Hamas war, the American Defense League has also documented Just over the past month, two attacks on Jews have made national headlines. A young couple — Israeli Embassy aides Yaron Lischinsky, 30, and Sarah Milgrim, 26 — Two weeks later, in Boulder, Colorado, a man threw Molotov cocktails at demonstrators who were calling for the release of Israeli hostages taken by Hamas. The attacker told investigators he was driven by a desire to Advertisement These days, when Applefield speaks in public, her daughter makes sure to have an escape plan. 'I'm very fearful this could happen anywhere at any time,' Milley says. 'It's very targeting for me,' Applefield says. Her grandson lives in D.C. and has attended a Jewish event at the same museum where the shooting happened. She's also watched recent immigration raids with growing alarm, chilled by the images of masked men sweeping people off of the street. 'Years ago, when someone would ask the question, 'Can something like the Holocaust ever happen again here?' And I would say, 'Oh, no, no, never.'' Applefield says. 'I have changed my mind because of what I see that is happening today.' Applefield is not alone in her efforts. Organizations nationwide have made it their mission to preserve these stories and ensure they will not be forgotten. The USC Shoah Foundation has an archive of over 52,000 testimonies from Holocaust survivors — The nonprofit Last year, Janet Applefield had 90 speaking engagements to discuss her experience during the Holocaust. So far this year, she has already booked 60 talks at schools and community spaces. Shira Stoll 'We've seen a number of reasons to feel concerned about the fragility of democracy,' says Elizabeth Carroll, New England program director at Facing History. 'That has created even more of a sense of urgency for our speakers to share their stories.' Over the past five years, the curriculum has been used in more than 62,000 schools nationwide, and over 4,000 schools in New England, according to Carroll. For Jeff Smith, who organizes its survivor speaker program, the work is personal — to honor the memory of his grandparents who were killed in the Holocaust — and purposeful — to bring the history to life for thousands of students. As the survivor population dwindles, Facing History has been proactive in training the children of Holocaust survivors and other atrocities to share their family histories. 'Those stories are not lost to the ages. They're continuing, and they're preserved,' Smith says. Milley, Applefield's daughter, is determined to carry her mother's torch. And she wants to remember not just the extreme cruelty her mother endured during the war — she also wants to keep alive the kindness of those who risked their lives to save a Jewish child. 'It's the most spiritually uplifting way for us as a family to recognize that they all play a very critical role in my mother's survival,' Milley says. It took years for Applefield to share her own story. She was married and had her first child at age 19. Applefield carried her son to classes at Rutgers University, holding on to a promise to her father that she would finish college. She went on to have two more children and earn a master's of social work from Boston University. She was a social worker for over 30 years, helping survivors of trauma as she continued to heal from her own. For much of that time, Applefield thought that because she was not in the concentration camps, she didn't 'fit the bill' as a true Holocaust survivor. But in the 1980s, Applefield was invited to join Facing History. Meeting other survivors made her feel like a part of something. Suddenly, sharing her story felt like an imperative. 'When I'm no longer here, I know that my daughter and my grandchildren will continue my legacy,' Applefield says. 'My story's out in the world.' Janet Applefield receives flowers from students. Malden Catholic school. Shira Stoll As Applefield finished speaking on that Wednesday in May, every person in the Malden Catholic auditorium was on their feet applauding. Afterward, a few students in hoodies and plaid skirts trickled up to the front to present her with flowers and chocolate. Others milled in groups, waiting to talk to Applefield. The girls who made the heart gestures approached her shyly, excited but slightly starstruck. She posed for a photo with them. Sarah Darius, a 15-year-old freshman at Malden Catholic, says Applefield's talk brought home the reality of the Holocaust for her, and the fact that her generation might be the last to hear from survivors firsthand. It's a privilege, she realizes — and a duty. 'I have to educate the younger generation on it,' Darius says. 'I'm taking on the responsibility.' Shira Stoll is a regional Emmy and Murrow Award-winning journalist based in Boston. Send comments to magazine@
Miami Herald
14-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Miami Herald
As Holocaust survivors continue to vanish, one of the oldest in Miami shares her story
Lucy Lowell, who survived the deadliest Nazi concentration camp to build a full life in New York City and eventually settle in Miami Beach, is among the last of an important and increasingly rare group of people. At 103, she's among the oldest living Holocaust survivors in the world. It's a population that's disappearing with each passing year. Just 1,400 survivors are estimated to be alive today over the age of 100, according to a new report. It means that the opportunity to hear firsthand stories of endurance in the face of monstrous evil is quickly passing by. Within the next six years, half of all Holocaust survivors will pass away. And 70 percent will pass away with in 10 years, according to a population projection report from the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany, also referred to as the Claims Conference. The findings are 'a stark reminder that our time is almost up,' said Gideon Taylor, president of the Claims Conference. 'Our survivors are leaving us and this is the moment to hear their voices,' he said. And Lowell isn't even the oldest in Florida. Another Florida survivor, Lithuanian-born Malka Schmulovitz, was recently honored by the city of Miami Beach on her 109th birthday. Schmulovitz was not available for an interview but told the Claims Conference that their experiences must never be forgotten. 'To be one of the oldest survivors alive right now at my age tells me we are running our of time,' Schmulovitz told the Claims Conference. 'We all have a testimony that needs to be shared.' Lowell, for her part, admits trying to put the past behind her as she built a new life in the United States. After decades of staying silent about her experience escaping Auschwitz and surviving the Holocaust — she once turned down interviews with Steven Spielberg's team for his Oscar-winning movie 'Schindler's List' — she has recently decided to share her story. 'At the time, with my husband, we did not talk about it. We wanted a new life, to enjoy each other and [not to] dwell on it,' she said. That change of heart is due, in part, to a recent gift from researchers: long-lost books from Lowell's childhood, including a book of biblical pictures she received as an award for good behavior at her religious school in 1930, when she was just eight-years-old. 'I was shocked,' Lowell said, pausing to reflect. 'I was shocked.' A small and stylish woman with a warm smile, Lowell recently sat in her Miami Beach apartment on Collins Avenue to reflect on those relics, which sparked a flood of painful memories. She thumbed through a book of Jewish philosophy that was given to her older brother Gerhard on the day of his bar mitzvah. Gerhard was later killed in Auschwitz. 'I remember very well — the beautiful party, family… friends. I even remember the dress I wore,' she said, adding that she was just 10 years old at the time. The family books were found in a private collection of 10,000 stolen Jewish books owned by Julius Streicher, a publisher of an antisemitic Nazi newspaper, according to The Sunday Times, and were returned due to the efforts of a project by JewishGen, a resource for Jewish genealogy at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York and the Leo Black Institute. Now, over 80 years after the liberation of Auschwitz, Lowell looks back on a life that was split into two parts — the before and after. She recalled, in an interview with the Miami Herald, the events that changed the course of her life. 'I've always had a good memory. What can I say? I am blessed that I don't have alzheimer's or any of those illnesses,' she said. 'It's still there.' Remembering the 'before' Before the Holocaust, Lowell lived a happy life with her parents and older brother in Berlin. She recalls 'wonderful' childhood memories — vacationing in the summers with her family and attending the now-famous Olympic Games of 1936, where Jesse Owens made history. She loved sports, dancing, and admiring the beautiful things in life — her mother's stylish wardrobe, for example, which sparked an lifelong interest in fashion design. Then on Nov. 9, 1938, with one violent night, the life Lowell knew and loved began to crumble. Nazis set fire to synagogues — including the one attended by Lowell and her family — and vandalized thousands of Jewish homes and businesses, igniting a wave of violence that killed nearly 100 Jews and led to the arrests and deportations of thousands more. The night later became known as Kristallnacht, or 'Night of Broken Glass,' signaling a turning point in Nazi Germany's persecution against Jewish people, moving from social discrimination and propaganda to violence and terror. The next several years would mark one of the darkest times in human history, both for Lowell and millions of other Jewish people around the world. All in all, six million European Jews and people from other minorities were killed by the Nazis during the Holocaust. As conditions worsened for Jews — Lowell's parents made arrangements to live with relatives in New York. But, due to travel restrictions, her family never made it to America. 'The consulates had closed, and we did not make it,' she said. 'The whole living room was packed with boxes and crates and suitcases to ship to America. And we got stuck.' Soon after, Lowell's family received a visit one night from Nazi officers, who deported the Emmerich's to the Lodz ghetto in Poland. 'We had just finished supper,' she said. She heard 'a knock on the door, and two Gestapo officers came. They said, 'We have to evict you, to deport you to Poland. So pack what you can carry, because there are no bell boys.' In Lodz, Lowell's family lived in 'primitive' conditions among dozens of other families in the same cramped, cold barrack. Conditions were so unsanitary, that Lowell's parents both died from illness, possibly typhus, a leading epidemic at the time that killed thousands of Jews living in ghettos. Lowell recalls laying in the hospital bed for weeks with high fevers, her head shaved bald from a lice infection. 'My parents, at least they passed away in a bed and not in Auschwitz,' she said. After she reunited with her brother in the ghetto, the two siblings moved out of the barracks and into a small vacancy. Lowell was able to work various jobs while living in the ghetto. She remembers working in a wheat field, planting and sewing, skills that felt foreign to her as someone who grew up in a big city, and another job working in a Nazi-run factory, making household shoes for soldiers. 'When doing the work, I would pick wheat and eat it, and put some in my pocket to bring back for my brother,' she said. Surviving Auschwitz Then, in 1944, after the ghetto was liquidated, Lowell, her brother and two German-speaking coworkers were forced into crowded cattle cars, bringing with them whatever they could carry with them for the long journey. She didn't know it at the time, but Lowell was being transported to Auschwitz. When they arrived at the camp, soldiers separated the men and women, lined them up and ordered them to march in a long line. Lowell became separated from her brother during this time. 'There was a famous doctor ... His name was Joseph Mengele, and he would direct people, 'you go right, you go left.' There were high fences. They were electric, And we saw one figure there stuck on it, because if you wanted to try to escape ... this was Auschwitz.' Joseph Mengele was one of the most infamous figures of the Holocaust, a ghoul who along with other German researchers, conducted terrible medical experiments on prisoners, and selected victims to be murdered in the gas chambers. The last time Lowell would see her brother, whom she adored, was in the concentration camp. 'We were stunned,' Lowell said, adding that she didn't know what was happening to her at the time. She remembers being ordered around by Nazis and living in a barrack with 800 other women in bleak conditions. She slept, with other prisoners, on the concrete floor and was given rags to wear as clothing. Lowell was selected with just 20 other women to go and work in a factory, where the director of the company was kind enough to give her knitting needles to make clothes. 'He gave us burlap yarn and I knitted myself a beautiful dress,' she said. 'I had a dress of my mother's in mind, which was so beautiful on her so I tried to knit something just like her dress.' She doesn't know why or how she was selected (her fluent German may have helped), but the assignment may have helped save her life. Then, the Auschwitz concentration camp was liberated on January 27, 1945. Lowell was just 23 years old, with no immediate family or home left to return to. In the aftermath of her time in the camp, Lowell relied on the kindness of strangers to get by and slowly, but surely, she built a new life for herself. Lowell ended up moving to Flushing, Queens to live with her extended family. She worked a job in fashion design at an office near Times Square and soon met her late husband, Frederick Lowell, a businessman in New York City who had also survived a concentration camp. She was married at the age of 26 and went on to live a beautiful life in Manhattan, where she helped her husband build a business. Her days were filled with day trips to the Metropolitan Opera, worldwide travel and fun — she was once a champion water skier. Now in Miami Beach, Lowell is an avid reader, especially of the news, and she loves to watch television and visit with friends. She recently shared her story at an event at the Jewish Museum of Florida, where she said people were 'astonished' and wanted to take pictures with her after the event. After spending the majority of her life avoiding the topic of her survival, Lowell wants people to hear her simple yet important message: 'You should not hate people. You should not discriminate ... Yes, you see what happens,' she said. This story was produced with financial support from Trish and Dan Bell and from donors comprising the South Florida Jewish and Muslim Communities, including Khalid and Diana Mirza, in partnership with Journalism Funding Partners. The Miami Herald maintains full editorial control of this work.
Miami Herald
28-04-2025
- General
- Miami Herald
Miami Jewish community marks Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day
Hundreds of members of Miami's Jewish community and its allies gathered in Miami Beach to commemorate Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day on Sunday night. This year marks the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, the largest and deadliest Nazi concentration camp, ending a horrific chapter in human history. All in all, six million European Jews and people from other minorities were killed by the Nazis during the Holocaust. The program, held at Temple Emanuel-El and organized by the Holocaust Memorial Miami Beach, remembered the six million Jews murdered in the Holocaust and honored the legacy of the dwindling number of survivors. The event showcased stories from survivors and from second, third and fourth-generation descendants who are continuing to educate the next generation on the consequences of hate. Currently, there are about 220,800 Holocaust survivors living in 90 countries around the world, with half residing in Israel and about 18 percent in North America, according to a new report from the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany, also referred to as the Claims Conference. The vast majority, 96 percent, are 'child survivors' who were born after 1928 and more than 1,400 Holocaust survivors are estimated to over 100 years old. Nearly 50 percent of all Holocaust survivors will pass away within the next 6 years, while 70 percent will pass away within 10 years, according to the report. As Holocaust survivors continue to age and pass away, events like the one at Temple Emanu-El become even more important, allowing the stories of survival to live on. This story was produced with financial support from Trish and Dan Bell and from donors comprising the South Florida Jewish and Muslim Communities, in partnership with Journalism Funding Partners. The Miami Herald maintains full editorial control of this work.
Sky News AU
24-04-2025
- Politics
- Sky News AU
Australia to host first-ever Holocaust Survivors' Reunion at NSW Parliament in response to rising anti-Semitism since October 7 terror attacks
Australia will host its first-ever Holocaust Survivors' Reunion in the hope that it will become an annual event. The reunion is the brainchild of survivor Eddy Boas in response to rising antisemitism since the October 7 terror attacks on Israel in 2023. Mr Boas says he hopes up to 150 survivors will attend the in-person lunch at NSW Parliament on June 1, while others will be able to join via Zoom. The 85-year-old, who survived the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp as a child, said he came up with the idea early last year after seeing unprecedented levels of antisemitism in his adopted country. 'Holocaust survivors were in angst and I can tell you, I don't get scared too often in life, but I started to think about all this antisemitism that suddenly broke out in Australia, which I would have never expected in my life to see,' Mr Boas told Sky News. 'I know what antisemitism is all about. I had never experienced antisemitism [before] in Australia.' Australia has one of the largest communities of Holocaust survivors in the world – about 35,000 emigrated here in the aftermath of World War II. Last year, there were 2,500 living survivors recorded in Australia, according to the Claims Conference, a non-profit which helps secure compensation for Holocaust survivors around the world. Mr Boas says while states have held smaller events for survivors, it's his understanding that this is the first national reunion of its kind. And one surprising topic will be off the table. 'One of the things that I made sure of, we were not going to talk about the Holocaust,' Mr Boas said. 'I want this to be a joyful luncheon. We all know about the Holocaust. 'Let's celebrate living in Australia. We've all – majority, I can't speak for everybody – have had a good life in Australia. I certainly have. 'I pretty well feel sure that most Holocaust survivors feel like I feel – that Australia, at one stage in our life, was the greatest country in the world. 'Unfortunately, today, with all this antisemitism going on and the [Federal] government not doing anything about it, no matter what they say, it's getting worse even today.' The reunion is being supported by NSW Premier Chris Minns, who will give a speech alongside Israeli ambassador Amir Maimon. 'This will be an important opportunity for Holocaust survivors to reflect, to remember, and to reunite,' Mr Minns told Sky News. 'With the number of Holocaust survivors falling as each year passes, moments to come together like this take on an extra significance. 'Holocaust survivors have made major contributions to NSW, Australia and the world. 'Their stories of survival are as important today as they have ever been.' Mr Boas says he is grateful for Mr Minns' support. 'We had a good talk about antisemitism and we had a talk about the luncheon,' Mr Boas said. 'He has allocated a grant to us to hold it, which I'm really pleased about. He is a terrific premier.' Mr Boas urged survivors to contact the Australian Association of Holocaust Survivors if they have not yet received an invitation.
