1920 - 2005 | Birth: | Arrest: | Residence: ,


Michel Racimor (originally Melekh, which means ‘king’ and is pronounced Maïlokh in Yiddish) was born on July 6, 1920 in Warsaw. He was deported to Auschwitz on July 31, 1944 in convoy 77.

The Racimor family fled Poland and came to settle in Paris, residing on the rue des Rosiers in the suburb of Saint-Ouen from around 1922.

Lazare Racimor, Michel’s father was a worker for Renault. His mother Thérèse stayed home with her four children, Joseph, Michel, Rachel, and Marie. They lived in tenement housing near the Porte de la Chapelle [one of the northern gates to the city]. At the age of 13 Michel got his elementary school certificate but had to go to work to help feed the family. He did several odd jobs but never really learned a trade. Although his was not a family of practicing Jews, Michel studied for a time with a rabbi in preparation for his bar mitzva, which he never had as he was  dismissed for showing disrespect to the rabbi (The children had glued his beard to the table with candle wax while he was asleep).


I, his daughter, know little about his life before the war, except that he worshiped his mother and gave her all his wages. Lazare was granted French citizenship and had the whole family naturalized.

Michel’s parents and two sisters did not return from Auschwitz, and so I never knew them.

He said very little about his time in the camps. When I was an adolescent, by insisting I obtained some information.

After a while in the Free Zone, he was arrested in the subway by a policeman while passing through Paris. He refused to show his papers and was sent to Drancy and deported.

At Auschwitz he ran into his father and tried to ease his life as much as possible.  At the time of evacuation, his father refused to stay with him and abandon his friends, and they were not to see each other again. At Auschwitz he met Serge Iglicki, who would remain his “campmate” for the rest of his life. During the “death march” Michel, at the end of his tether, jumped off into the underbrush, escaped notice, and fled into the woods the next morning with a companion who had acted likewise.

After the war he returned to Paris and lived with his brother in their parents’ apartment. He heard through some former friends that Marie Stokfisz, whose family he knew, had come back from Auschwitz, where she had encountered his sisters. The friends set up a meeting. Marie lived on the avenue Wilson in la Plaine-Saint-Denis, and thus quite near the Porte de la Chapelle.

They got married on June 15, 1946

Michel moved into Marie’s parents’ former apartment and took over their scrap business on the rue du Landy. Marie had lost her parents and her older brother Henri at Auschwitz, but her younger brother Armand had returned. Armand ran a little forager’s scrap shop at Maubert-Mutualité. The brother-in-laws were partners, but Armand was always in trouble, and Michel would often have to support him and his family (Armand married Fanny Stopek and had two children).

Michel and Marie had two children, Madeleine (me), born on April 11, 1947, and Catherine, born on June 1, 1952.

Michel worked hard and loved his work. He kept his enterprise, Racimor et Compagnie, running until he retired. He sold out to a successor, but remained for another five years, letting go only at the insistence of Marie, who wanted to move to Cannes.

Madeleine got married but divorced 15 years later. She gave Michel two grandchildren, Johanna, born in 1970, and Lionel, born in 1973.

Catherine married Claude, and they had Alexandre and Déborah.

Michel was a cheerful, personable man who loved to joke. Completely absorbed in his work, he was not very interested in family life and let Marie manage everything. The children were not his domain. Yet I remember a kind, loving father I followed around everywhere on vacation. He taught me to swim, to play volleyball, pétanque [French bowls]…

Michel always remained friends with Serge Iglicki. Serge and Lili had three boys, who were my childhood playmates and with whom I am still in touch.

Michel and Marie lived for a long time in La Plaine-Saint-Denis. Marie wanted to give up her parents’ apartment, too full of sad memories, but Michel was close to his plant and liked to come home for lunch. Pushed by Catherine and Claude, who lived nearby, they finally moved to the rue Marcadet [Paris 18th district].  They were in the habit of taking their vacations in Cannes, and they ended up buying an apartment and moving there.

A lot of their friends lived there as well, and Michel led a pleasant social life, which was not the case for Marie, who, extremely depressed, gradually cut herself off.

Michel’s life took a downturn when an unsuccessful operation led to the amputation of a leg. He had known other health problems, but he found this handicap hard to bear. He nevertheless continued to take strolls in an electric vehicle on the Croisette, joking and smiling at the people he encountered there.

His vital strength got him through the hardships and suffering of the camp. All his life he helped others – his brother Joseph, his brother-in-law Armand, his friend Serge. Lacking a sharp head for business, he never got rich, but worked and ran his business uprightly and honestly, according to his values.

He died in Cannes in 2005 and was buried near Marie in the Bagneux cemetery [in the suburbs south of Paris].

Michel Racimor around 1995
Michel Racimor and Madeleine end 2004
Michel Racimor, Madeleine and Marie 1990
Joseph, Lazare and Michel Racimor, 1941
Michel Racimor – Rachel, Thérèse and Marie, 1941
Michel Racimor, pastel portrait by his daughter Madeleine


Madeleine Racimor, sa fille
  1. vannereau 3 years ago

    Madeleine, merci pour ce témoignage. C’est bien aussi que tu aies mis les photos de “ces” jeunes gens qui ont été si malmenés par la folle histoire du monde.
    Bon WE. Bises.

  2. Madeleine Racimor 3 years ago

    En hommage à toutes les personnes de ma famille déportées à Auschwitz, un poème écrit après avoir lu leurs noms sur le mur du mémorial de la Shoah. Madeleine

    Aux miens

    Lazare, Thérèse, Charles, Hanna,
    Henri, Marie, Rachel,
    disparus que je n’ai jamais vus
    Michel mon père, Marie ma mère
    vous êtes avec eux sur ce mur.
    et moi j’ai vu vos noms
    avec des milliers d’autres
    ceux des morts et ceux des vivants
    Que faites-vous sur ce mur
    ma famille ?
    J’ai senti votre torture
    Je vous ai touchés sur la pierre froide
    mais vous êtes ailleurs
    Où êtes-vous ? Dans le mur,
    Dans le vide ? Dans la nuit ?
    Le temps est mort, la vie est morte
    J’ai froid
    Je ne vous oublie pas
    Je vis avec vous
    Vous ne savez pas que j’existe
    Vous ne savez pas que je viens de vous
    vous êtes figés dans ce temps mort d’avant moi
    Vous êtes dans une bulle que je ne peux atteindre
    Vous êtes partis mais vous êtes là avec moi
    Non, c’est moi qui suis avec vous
    Je suis dans ce camp
    Pourquoi ?
    Je cherche vos visages derrière dedans
    Je marche vers vous fuyants
    J’avance dans une lumière trouble
    Je tâtonne, je trébuche,
    Je vous vois au loin de l’absence
    Je touche votre transparence
    Vous êtes là très près
    dans les boîtes de verre
    Vous êtes là enfermés
    Vous m’attendez…

  3. IGLICKI 3 years ago

    Merci pour ce témoignage. Et pour ton poème. Tu m’as fait pleurer.
    je t’embrasse tendrement et fraternellement

  4. IGLICKI JL 3 years ago

    Merci Madeleine pour ce témoignage et ce poème. Bises
    Jean-Luc (Nano)

  5. Klejman 2 years ago

    Lazar, Thérèsa et leurs filles Marie et Rachel sont arrivés de Saint-Etienne à Drancy le 28 MAI 1944; ils ont été arrêtés en avril 1944, selon des archives de la Loire.Ils ont déportésle 30 mai par le convoi 75.

  6. GANILSY 11 months ago

    Bonjour Madeleine,

    Je souhaiterai vous adresser des photos de votre papa, Rachel et Marie.

    Bonnes fêtes,

    Bien à vous,
    Marc GANILSY

  7. Author
    Serge Jacubert 11 months ago

    Cher monsieur,
    j’ai transmis votre demande à Madeleine RACIMOR et lui laisse le soin de vous répondre directement. Bien à vous.
    Serge JACUBERT

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