The Kádár-era’s police and secret service were constantly haunted by the memory of 1956—especially the role of Hungarian youth in the revolution. As a result, they viewed all non-Communist youth movements with suspicion, focusing in particular on young ‘gangs’ (galeri): groups of young men and women who gathered in public places, drank alcohol, listened to Western music, and wore Western-style clothing.
At the end of the 1960s, one gang operating in and around Buda Castle drew increased attention. In July 1969, following the death of iconic British guitarist Brian Jones, a group of young people gathered beneath the large tree still standing on the southern side of Castle Hill. After a cancelled concert, they organized a provocative march to the Basilica, during which—allegedly, though later scholarship tends to dispute this—far-right slogans were reportedly chanted.
As a result, proceedings were initiated against members of the so-called ‘Nagyfa gang’ (‘Big Tree Gang’). Népszabadság reported on the verdicts on 17 February 1970: ‘The first-, second-, and fourth-degree defendants—Gyula Szandbauer, György Dévényi, and Sándor Domján—were sentenced to two years of imprisonment each, and seven of their juvenile peers received sentences ranging from eight months to one year and three months.’ The trial of András Fogarasi and a few of his associates was separated and judged independently.
Although the story is decidedly convoluted and contains contrived elements—and some historians even question whether the events can be reliably reconstructed from the files—we nevertheless cite a few agent reports here, highlighting some of the more revealing aspects of this youth subculture and attempting a synthesis. At the same time, it must be acknowledged that we are dealing with a partially fabricated trial, intended both to legitimize the Kádár-era secret service and to conflate the hippie movement with common crime and the far right.
The ‘Nagyfa gang’ had already come under notice in May 1969, when the agent codenamed ‘Vári’ reported to Group III/b of the Political Department of the Budapest Police Headquarters (BRFK) that ‘many young people still gather above the Buda Youth Park in the evenings, listening to music, though fights sometimes occur among them.’ According to the handler’s comment, the group was already known, although at that time they could not be charged with anything specific: ‘The remainder of the report concerns the gang members who gather on the promenade above the Youth Park. Those attending the gatherings are individuals who, due to their long hair or untidy clothing, are not allowed into the Park.’ The agent’s task was therefore ‘to identify those who are leaders or politically active and to deepen his relationship with them, trying to gain their trust.’
One report claimed that up to 400 youths gathered above the park on a single occasion—a figure that appears to be a strong exaggeration. According to ‘Vári’, the meeting spot was popular because it offered a view of the band and allowed people to hear the music.
Although this activity still predates the July 1969 incident, some reports already noted the lifestyle of certain prominent figures—such as ‘Kis Kennedy’ and ‘Pinocció’. The former ‘spent the entire summer drifting, did not work, and slept in a cellar in the Castle with his companions’, while the latter ‘was hated by everyone’ because ‘he repeatedly harassed girls; for example, if he approached a girl to talk, and things did not go “well” with her, he immediately threatened her and twisted her arm.’ At this stage, overt political content remained minimal, although one gang member, ‘Alvarez’, was reported to have sung a song with the line: ‘Wine, wheat, peace—we don’t give a sh*t about the police.’
We learn several details from the reports of ‘Buday’, which he also submitted to Group III/b of the Political Department of BRFK. He listed the members of the ‘Vár gang’, noting that ten lived on Úri Street, one on Várfok Street, and one on Batthyány Street. ‘They usually meet every day at the Fishermen’s Bastion,’ and from there generally go to the Youth Park, where—contrary to rumours that only those with proper clothing and hairstyles may attend park events—a tip or a connection is sufficient for even the wildest-looking and behaving gang members to enter.
Buday also reported on the group’s political conversations. According to him, the youths listened to Radio Free Europe, and he closely observed the target individual ‘Hippy’, who lived on Attila Street. Buday noted that ‘Hippy’ was familiar with Mao’s sayings and expressed support for Israel. He reportedly said that the Jews would ‘show those stinky-footed Arabs’, that Cairo would become a ‘colonial city’, and that ‘he otherwise really likes what the Israelis are doing in the Middle East; he approves of it.’
In a 1970 report, Buday noted that ‘among the youths, the rumour spread that Mátyás Rákosi had received amnesty and could return to Hungary…They hate him and speak of Rákosi with ridicule, [saying] that he has come home to die; this will indeed happen, because someone will surely get rid of him.’ Others complained about rent increases: ‘Who will be able to pay the increase when I barely have any money now?! This will cause a big scandal, mark my words—there will be another 56.’
Later, ‘Buday’ took notice of a young individual who had broken away from the ‘Vár gang’, referred to as B, who in the early 1970s—according to the reports—was preparing for violent, anti-regime actions. ‘B stated that he planned to blow up the Soviet barracks in Rákospalota,’ or at least this is what he told the agent at his apartment on Attila Street. An attempt was made to equip Buday with a ‘minifon’ (a small recording device) to capture the conversation, but the equipment failed. Buday was instructed to ‘not give concrete advice,’ as it was important that he could later be safely removed from the case.
Later, B explained at the Fekete Holló restaurant in the Castle that he was ‘modelling his homemade weapon on a staple gun, which would operate with steel pins whose tips would be poisoned.’ The story sounds incredible, but it was confirmed by another agent, ‘Faragó László’. Unfortunately, we know nothing more about this incident or its consequences, as the file ends here.
‘Our goal during the processing work is to cleanse the Youth Park and its surroundings of individuals engaged in hostile activities…for preventive purposes’
One of the more serious, fully completed criminal proceedings for which records remain was the case against Gyula Szandbauer—also known by the nickname ‘Nagy Kennedy’—and his associates. While some gang members came from more stable backgrounds, Szandbauer exemplified a troubled upbringing: he had been in institutional care since the age of four, never completed vocational training, had no fixed address, and at the time was working in a technical role with the Bergendy band.
The proceeding was essentially the operative implementation of the case codenamed ‘Tőröző’ (‘Dagger’). According to the operational plan dated 16 September 1969, ‘our goal during the processing work is to cleanse the Youth Park and its surroundings of individuals engaged in hostile activities by 23 October 1969, for preventive purposes.’
The means for achieving this included operational photography, the deployment of agents, equipping them with minifons, and ‘catching’ the youths based on the fact that many carried knives. As one report states: ‘A significant portion of the gang members are equipped with spring knives and razor blades. They provoke foreign tourists in various ways, demanding small amounts of money from them.’
This clearly reflects an initial concept; later, the authorities would invoke entirely different pretexts.
According to the state security authorities, the youths not only ‘led a degenerate lifestyle’, but on one occasion Szandbauer even tore up the KISZ (Communist Youth) membership card of a female acquaintance, calling her ‘a damned communist’. This scene later appears in journalist L L Lőrincz’s A nagy fa árnyékában (In the Shadow of the Big Tree), a so-called ‘youth novel’ that was essentially a regime-loyal propaganda work.
‘“Heil Hitler!” – said Juszuf every single time someone from the fifteen- to twenty-member group stepped on the ID card. The participants circled the fire as if playing an innocent board game. After each step came the chorus of “Heil Hitler!”, mixed with a few “Persistence!” (Kitartás – an Arrow Cross slogan) and “Long live Szálasi!” The trampled and torn ID card lay “dying” (sic) in the grass, very close to the fire.’
It is questionable whether the youths could really be categorized in such a way. While multiple independent reports refer to antisemitic remarks, it is also clear that some gang members were of Jewish origin. Meanwhile, one had a ‘USA tattoo’, and in other cases, ‘some of the gang members considered themselves hippies and tried to dress and live accordingly.’ This self-identification manifested even in the use of hippie symbols.
The 15-year-old (!) girlfriend of Szandbauer, born in 1950, S I, was described by him as follows: ‘I met her as a barefoot, hippie fortune-teller, and since our (peace) badge had long been well known and drawn on nearly everyone’s jeans, she liked it too and asked me to draw it on her red velvet jeans, which were already quite covered with names and other English slogans: “Love you boy,” “loving you LSD,” “Sinthe Life” [sic!].’
‘The crackdown on the gang members was considered forced even by public opinion at the time’
The case reached its culmination in the events alluded to in our introduction.
An interesting fact is that the crackdown on the gang members was considered forced even by public opinion at the time. A good example is L L Lőrincz’s novel, which was received very negatively. Let us quote in detail Gábor Turi’s review, which, miraculously, was allowed to appear in the Kádár-era press:
‘However, the story is simply way too obvious; the panels are quickly recognizable…the gang members, adopting hippie ideological phrases, anti-Soviet, hating the police, avoiding work, and in reality unfortunate children with troubled childhoods—and all the while, the associate professor and the police officer deliver convincing seminar-style lectures on the humanism of socialism, its superiority over exploitation and capitalism. L L Lőrincz’s book in this form is not credible, and as a novel it is worthless: under the pretence of depicting real social phenomena, it presents a disguised apologetics of socialism in literary form…In the Shadow of the Big Tree is unlikely to receive critical attention from any literary journal; we quote it at such length only as a negative example. It is improbable that either Hungarian book publishing or the firmly believing socialist society still needs such propaganda novels today.’
Ultimately, the story of the ‘big tree gang’ illustrates how social anxieties, political agendas, and propaganda intersected in late-1960s Hungary. The files, reports, and novels documenting their lives offer a fascinating glimpse into a vanished world where surveillance and Marxist ideology shaped even the smallest acts of everyday life.
Related articles:
