The ‘stumbling stones’ that mark Prague's victims of the Holocaust have become a discreet but familiar feature on the Czech capital’s crowded streets – once at risk of vanishing from view, that these brass-plated stones continue to shine has much to do with the efforts of a retired British engineer.
Moving to Prague in 2006, Trevor Sage first learned of the stones and their meaning on a tour of the city.
“Walking through Prague’s fascinating Jewish Quarter, a guide pointed out the small brass cobblestone-like monuments embedded in the sidewalk,” Sage tells TVP World.
“He explained that these were memorials to victims of Nazism and placed where the victims once lived, adding that these were called Stolpersteine in German, stumbling stones in English, and Kameny zmizelých in Czech,” says Sage.
Translating to mean ‘stones of the disappeared’, this last phrase struck a chord with Sage.
“Walking through Prague’s fascinating Jewish Quarter, a guide pointed out the small brass cobblestone-like monuments embedded in the sidewalk,” Sage tells TVP World.
“He explained that these were memorials to victims of Nazism and placed where the victims once lived, adding that these were called Stolpersteine in German, stumbling stones in English, and Kameny zmizelých in Czech,” says Sage.
Translating to mean ‘stones of the disappeared’, this last phrase struck a chord with Sage.
“All were tarnished to different degrees, some were even illegible or totally indistinguishable from their surroundings,” he says. “In my mind, it appeared as if the victims were disappearing for a second time. I felt an urge to clean the brass plaques, but didn’t feel it was my place to do so as a foreigner in my adopted home.”
This was to change. “In July 2018 I read a Facebook post about a gentleman in Salzburg, Gerhard Geier, who had cleaned all 388 Stolpersteine in his city,” says Sage. “Like me, Geier was neither Jewish, nor were his family impacted by the Holocaust, but his action gave me the inspiration to do the same thing in Prague.”
There would be no looking back. That same month, Sage undertook his own clean-up operation only to find his work earning instant recognition. Asked as to what he was doing by a curious passerby, his story inadvertently went viral.
“After I had explained my project, she asked if she could take a photo of me cleaning the stones and if she could then post it on Facebook,” he says.
The resulting post elicited an extraordinary response, generating hundreds of comments, likes and shares, as well as interest from the media, leading Sage to create the Stolpersteine Prague page on Facebook.
This was to change. “In July 2018 I read a Facebook post about a gentleman in Salzburg, Gerhard Geier, who had cleaned all 388 Stolpersteine in his city,” says Sage. “Like me, Geier was neither Jewish, nor were his family impacted by the Holocaust, but his action gave me the inspiration to do the same thing in Prague.”
There would be no looking back. That same month, Sage undertook his own clean-up operation only to find his work earning instant recognition. Asked as to what he was doing by a curious passerby, his story inadvertently went viral.
“After I had explained my project, she asked if she could take a photo of me cleaning the stones and if she could then post it on Facebook,” he says.
The resulting post elicited an extraordinary response, generating hundreds of comments, likes and shares, as well as interest from the media, leading Sage to create the Stolpersteine Prague page on Facebook.
Challenges, though, awaited. While Prague’s first Stolpersteine debuted in 2008, the organization that had laid them later ceased to exist leaving no public record as to where they had been installed.
It fell to Sage to map them all out, with the Brit subsequently pounding the streets and scouring the web before finally locating 284.
It fell to Sage to map them all out, with the Brit subsequently pounding the streets and scouring the web before finally locating 284.
Using good quality brass polish and a soft sponge scourer (“As well as a chrome polish to give the brass a deeper shine,” says Sage), he set about his work.
“Cleaning each stone can vary and can take anything from a few minutes to 45 if it’s been damaged by chewing gum or paint,” he says.
Receiving no funding, and working on an entirely voluntary basis, Sage’s labor of love has earned him no shortage of admirers – and in some instances, friends. With each stone inscribed with a victim’s name, several relatives of the victims have stepped forward to offer their gratitude, building an irrevocable bond with the 65-year-old Sage.
But just as his number of followers has flourished, so too has the number of stones – when the latest batch premieres on October 10th, the city will have 784 to its name.
“Cleaning each stone can vary and can take anything from a few minutes to 45 if it’s been damaged by chewing gum or paint,” he says.
Receiving no funding, and working on an entirely voluntary basis, Sage’s labor of love has earned him no shortage of admirers – and in some instances, friends. With each stone inscribed with a victim’s name, several relatives of the victims have stepped forward to offer their gratitude, building an irrevocable bond with the 65-year-old Sage.
But just as his number of followers has flourished, so too has the number of stones – when the latest batch premieres on October 10th, the city will have 784 to its name.
“I used to spend a few hours two or three days a week cleaning the stones,” says Sage, “but since having a hip replacement I only clean the stones I have ‘adopted’ at 5 Paris Street which remember Lore and Štěpán Winternitz.”
Fortunately, help has been to hand. With his followers swelling to over 4,000, appeals to help clean the stones have not gone unheard and Sage’s Facebook account bristles with photographs of young and old doing their bit.
“I just warn people that if they use ecologically friendly substitutes like salt and lemon juice to rinse the stones thoroughly after cleaning,” he says, “otherwise a chemical reaction will occur, and the stones will turn green!”
More than just a pet project, Sage’s pastime has become an all-consuming passion. “I began trying to find photos of the people commemorated on each stone,” he says, “that way I could picture them while cleaning the stones placed in front of their former homes – it helped build a connection.”
Fortunately, help has been to hand. With his followers swelling to over 4,000, appeals to help clean the stones have not gone unheard and Sage’s Facebook account bristles with photographs of young and old doing their bit.
“I just warn people that if they use ecologically friendly substitutes like salt and lemon juice to rinse the stones thoroughly after cleaning,” he says, “otherwise a chemical reaction will occur, and the stones will turn green!”
More than just a pet project, Sage’s pastime has become an all-consuming passion. “I began trying to find photos of the people commemorated on each stone,” he says, “that way I could picture them while cleaning the stones placed in front of their former homes – it helped build a connection.”
His research, however, did not stop there. Seeking to learn more about these victims, he began researching their lives, and it was these details that formed the basis of a book about Prague’s Stolpersteine that was published in 2021. Now, an update is in the pipeline with all proceeds to be redirected to the local Stolpersteine v Praze foundation.
Sage’s commitment has been nothing short of humbling - for him though, it’s all been second nature.
“When I moved to Prague and saw the Stolpersteine for the first time it hit me, the Holocaust wasn’t something that happened ‘somewhere else’,” he says. “It happened to people who once lived around me, my neighbors. It became so much more personal to me and cleaning the stones was my way of paying tribute to the victims and giving something back to my adopted city.”
Sage’s commitment has been nothing short of humbling - for him though, it’s all been second nature.
“When I moved to Prague and saw the Stolpersteine for the first time it hit me, the Holocaust wasn’t something that happened ‘somewhere else’,” he says. “It happened to people who once lived around me, my neighbors. It became so much more personal to me and cleaning the stones was my way of paying tribute to the victims and giving something back to my adopted city.”
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