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Gradually in Białystok the safe characteristics of the former Tsarist Russia began to disappear. The brown, tight-fitting dresses of the High School girls, the green costumes with white cuffs of the Commercial School girls, the uniforms of the junior High School, the High Schools, the Middle Schools, the stiff, masculine uniforms of the Aleksandrov Gymnasium with shiny brass buttons, were packed away in the trunks of Jewish homes - and with them the habit of speaking Russian.

A modern curiosity had developed: Jewish “ladies” and “gentlemen” who spoke a beautiful, literary Russian, a better Russian than the native Russians, answered questions in Yiddish in Russian, giving the illusion that the Yiddish language was completely foreign to them. They threw in only a few Yiddish words, scolded and otherwise argued like a goy, using Russian swear words such as: “Nakhal, Svinya, Svolotsh, Merzavets, Negodyai, Podliyets”.

Suddenly they began to speak good Yiddish, with real Białystoker expressions like:

“Farmakh di tshir! [Close the door], or, “Mama! Vu shteyt der bunke tey?” [Mom, where is the pot of tea?], “Host efsher a bisl montshke?” [Do you have any granulated sugar?]

They showed that the Yiddish language, which prevailed in almost all Białystoker homes, had somehow also penetrated the subconscious of Białystoker's Jewish youth, and apparently the Russian “Dybbuk” had suddenly jumped out and disappeared somewhere.

With the end of the “gulyankes” [social, festive events] in the “Gorodskoi Garden” and in the “Park Roskosh” with the large proportion of officers, soldiers, musicians from Vladimirske, Cossacks and the “Ulanovske Regiment”, the pro-Russian feelings of the Jewish girls had partially disappeared, as well as Russian romanticism and Russian military uniforms. This marked the beginning of a rapprochement between many strata and classes of Jewish youth, who had previously been separated as if by barriers of Russian schools, Russian language, and school uniforms. It was customary to look down with a kind of arrogance on the simple boys and girls who were not wealthy enough to study in a Russian school.

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A rapprochement began among the youth, in which the source of the Yiddish “mame-loshn” [mother tongue] suddenly opened.

On Shabbat evenings, during walks in Lipowa and Nikolayeva Streets, one began to hear the free speaking of Yiddish. Some of them, especially the female students of the High Schools and Commercial Schools, pretended to speak broken Yiddish with a few bits of Russian. Mischievous Jewish boys from Surazer Street and Shul Street used to make an announcement to such women:

“Hey, daughter! Doesn't your father eat 'kugl' and 'cholent' on Shabbat?”

A great convergence began among the youth, who had a lot of free time and were confined because they couldn't go out to other cities. Various Jewish, artistic and cultural circles, groups and movements emerged. The Zionist groups took the lead, among them the “Poale-Zion” party (the successors of Ber Borochov), pure Zionists with a bourgeois approach, without socialism and class struggle; also religious Zionists of the “Mizrachi” type.

But the socialist parties also occupied a respected position, among them the “S.S.”. At its head were:

Yisroel Geyst [Israel Geist], an intellectual and good speaker with his hard, Russian “reysh” [“r”]; Yakov [Jacob] Pat, a writer, speaker and party leader; and Bishke Gdanski, a popular type and idealist.

“Jewish art” began to function again, with a choir under the direction of Pesach Kaplan. Literary-dramatic evenings with one-act plays, recitations and declamations were organized. There were even literary “mishpotim” [judgments] with a defense attorney, a prosecutor, and a jury, such as the literary judgement on Bergelson's novel “Nokh Alemen” [The End of Everything]. The trial lasted several evenings and sessions, and the youth of Białystok were divided into two groups: There were those who stood by the “defender” and others who went along with the “prosecutor”.

Every Friday evening in the “S.S.” pub on German Street, there were lectures and discussions on party issues, as well as lectures on Jewish authors and their works. Often there were literary evenings with “local talents” in recitation and declamation.

A group of theater amateurs was formed with the participation of Yudl Grinhoyz [Greenhouse], Mair and Sholem Shvarts, Feylet, Zevkina, Birnboym [Birnbaum], and Ayznshtad [Eisenstadt], the son of the director of the Jewish Theater. These amateurs later performed in the “Palace Theater”: Goldfaden's opera-rette “Sulamit”, “The Sorceress”, “Tsvey Kuni-Lemls”. Or Gordin's plays: “Kashe di Yesoyme” [Kashe the Orphan],

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“Der Yidishe Kenig Lir” [The Jewish King Lear], “Sappho”, “Got, Mentsh un Teyvl” [God, Man and Devil], “The Umbakanter” [The Unknown] and others.

A literary circle was established in the “Lines-Hatsedek” [Linas Hatzedek, Home and Association for the Poor and Sick] and a dramatic circle in the “Lines-Khoylim” [Linas Cholim, Institution for the Sick]. Later, the “Volkspartei” [People's Party] was founded, headed by Pesach Kaplan, Moyshe Visotski [Wisotzky] and Aharon Albek, the later publisher of the newspaper “Dos Naye Leben”, whose editor was Pesach Kaplan.

In Poale-Zion, the red-haired Khmyelnik [Chmielnik] was the absolute leader.

The dramatic circle of the “Lines-Khoylim” organized a literary “mishpet” [judgement] on Nomberg's “Tsvishn Berg” [In the Mountains], in which, later, Khayim Visotski, the talented writer, was the “defender”. “Ani hakotn” [I, the Little One] was at that time a strict moralist and was the “prosecutor”. In “Linas-Hatsedek”, in the literary “mishpet” on “Motke Ganev” [Motke, the Thief] by Sholem Ash, I also took on the strict role of the “prosecutor”. My opponent, the “defender”, was Shteynsafir. He was a scribe and humanist who later worked on various editions.

The cultural circle of “Lines-Khoylim” often held medical lectures by Dr. Zadvoryanski. Others spoke about the anatomy of the body, the development of diseases and how to fight them, emphasizing the importance of hygiene and purity. At that time abdominal and typhoid fevers were widespread in the city.

The sounds of the famous, newly formed “Vilna Troupe” with its new repertoire had already spread to Białystok:

“Di puste Kretshme” and “Der Dorfs-Yung” by Leon Kobrin and “Die grine Felder” by Peretz Hirshbeyn. Also “The Dybbuk” by An-Ski, which later became so famous. Everyone in Białystok knew the names of the first amateurs of the “Vilna Troupe” by heart. They were:

Aleksander Ezra, Sonye Elamit, Lyoba Kadisan, Noyekh [Noach] Nokhbush, Tanin, Kovolski, and Avrom [Abraham] Morevski, who joined later.

It was the beginning of a new era, the awakening of the Jewish language, culture, ideas and art. The awakening created a Jewish youth with a love for their people, with dreams of social ideas and a strong urge to free themselves from assimilation in exile. It was the beginning of dreams of an independent people in a land of their own. But now I come back to the beginning.

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The Jewish cradle song that a mother sang as she rocked her child was the first sound of Yiddish that the child heard. As the mother pressed the wooden foot of the semicircular cradle, she sang Avram Goldfaden's [Roshinkes with Almonds]:

„In Beys-Hamikdash, in a vinkl-kheyder,
zists di almone Bas-Tsiyen aleyn…
zi zitst un vigt dos vigele keseyder,
un zingt derbay a lidele gants sheyn…”

[In the Bet Hamikdash, in the corner of a room,
The widow, the daughter of Zion, sits alone,
She sits there rocking the little cradle all the time,
And sings a beautiful little song].

It seemed as if the child was dreaming. Her little eyes were half closed, her round, pink cheeks reddened in the first dreams of a child, but the process of absorbing the “mame-loshn” [mother tongue] had begun. In the long nights of my later years, my mother's lullabies rang in my ears like magical accords of song. And probably the same was true for other Białystok children during their sweet childhood years in mother's house.

This is part of the explanation for the “overnight miracle” of the Białystok youth's switch from Russian to Yiddish during the First World War.

New names of authors lit up the imagination of the Jewish youth. No longer Russians, but Jews: singers of the social struggle, such as Morris Rosenfeld, Morris Winchevsky, [Joseph] Bovshover. Singers of national pride and struggle, like Chaim Nachman Bialik, with his works:

“In the Shkhite-shtot”, “Ha-Masmid”, “A Freylekhs”, “El Hatsipor”. Or Abraham Reyzer's folk songs, Zalman Shneour's “Margaritkelekh”, Z. Segalovich's “Sheyn iz Reyzele dem Shoykhet's”, Sh. Frug's “Ha-Kos” (The Cup).

The names of Jewish prose writers also began to take their place among the youth of Białystok. Mendele's “Di Klyatshe” [The Old Horse], the allegory, the sad comparison with the Jewish people, or “מסעות בנימין השלישי” [The Travels of Benjamin the Third], which awakened in the youth a wanderlust for new lands with new customs and new people.

The Hasidic stories of [Isaac Leib] Peretz from his “Folkstimlekhe Geshikhtn” became the main attraction of lectures at all literary evenings, as did his “Di Dray Matones”, “Oyb Nisht Nokh Hekher”, “Di Aropgelozene Oygn”, “Der Gilgel fun a Nign”, “Baym Goyses Tsukopns”, and others.

Sholem Aleichem also contributed with his comic one-act and two-act plays, which were very popular:

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For example: “Mazel-Tov”, “A Doktor a Soykher”, “Ekspropryatsyes”, and “The Get”.

Every other boy and girl belonged to a literary or dramatic circle. There was a tremendous thirst for a thorough knowledge of the Yiddish language, in which a boy and a girl made their first declaration of love, interwoven with song and the secret trembling of the first “flirting feelings” of awakened desire. This, however, was wrapped in noble, tender feelings of pure love, without raw sex and vulgarity, which was unknown to our naive, pure, innocent youth of that time, because they had been brought up in the tradition of the Jewish “pure family”, the sanctification of a more beautiful, higher, nobler level, up to the ecstasy of a divine elevation of man and woman.

My friend Lampert lived on Yurovtser (Potshtove) Street, the tall boy with the Cossack mop of hair and a constant hoarse laugh. He was very popular among us. He grew up with his grandmother. Once, taking advantage of the fact that his grandmother was away somewhere, he invited us to his house.

As usual, our circle consisted of my friends Sheymke Zak, the chubby Lurye, the son of a spinning master, Tshapnitski, the son of a grocer in Gumienna Street, and Sheymke Plavski. The latter was the son of the well-known merchant Hilel Plavski from the street “Hinter der Turme”, a relative of Sheymke Zak. The circle also included Khayim Kruglyanski, the girls Rivke Shvartsman from Surazer Street and the two sisters Okun and Sonye Lifshits, and a few others.

Khayim Kruglyanski, a singer with a cantor, always carried a tuning fork to imitate the famous conductor of the choir school, Jakow Berman. Kruglyanski tapped his tuning fork and began to perform a third, and a discussion about music broke out.

Suddenly we started talking about other things: Where to get potatoes, how to smuggle in rye, how to get cooking oil to fry latkes, and where to “catch” a goy woman with a “shok” [sixty] eggs.

The transition from prose to poetry and art - and vice versa - was, as with all young people, a rapid process. The youthful imagination bends hunger and need and flies in a few minutes to higher worlds, forgetting daily cares.

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And so we, a hungry group of young people, got involved in a discussion about music.

Each composer had ardent admirers among us. And so the names of composers and their compositions came up:

Beethoven and Mozart as creators of symphonies. We sang Franz Liszt's “Hungarian Rhapsody”, took up the “Dance of the Doll” from Offenbach's “Tales of Hoffmann”, danced Strauss' salon waltz, sang the oriental motifs of Rimsky-Korsakov's “Scheherezade” in chorus, shook our heads at arias from Richard Wagner's “Nibelungen” cycle and arias with our main heroes, “Tristan and Isolde”. Also arias from “Carmen”, the wonderfully melancholy motifs of Ippolitov-Ivanov's “Kavkazer Nigunim” [Caucasian Melodies/Sketches].

But it was Chopin's “Nocturnes” that had the greatest success with us, not because of Polish patriotic feelings, but because of his famous romance with the French novelist George Sand, who not only had a male pseudonym, but was also the first woman who dared to walk down the street in men's trousers and a top hat!

But suddenly our stomachs rumbled and grumbled, and Lurye, who had a good appetite and knew little about poetry, made an announcement in simple Białystok:

“Khevre! Vu nemt men itst epes a geshmakn key?” [“Guys, where can we get something tasty to eat now?”].

One of them picked up on this, stood up and recited this rhyme:

“Khevre yatn, es kon nokh farshatn,
nisht redn fun muzik...

Fun fidl and smik,
es iz gut farn zatn...”

[Roughly: People, it can still hurt to talk about music, about violin and bow, it's just good for a full man...].

My friend Lampert is ashamed, scratches his thick head of hair and blushes like a shy girl:

“How is this possible, he's invited guests and doesn't even have anything to offer...”

But suddenly his face lit up with joy. From a dark corner, he pulled out a small sack of potatoes, so wildly crumpled with their long white roots, as if the potatoes were saying to us:

“What do you want from us? Please let us live in our old age, we're struggling.

But Lampert doesn't argue with the disgruntled potatoes.

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He grabs them and puts them on the coals, and in a few minutes you can smell the aroma of baked potatoes - the taste of paradise...

Lurye does not calm down.

“And is there such a thing as smoked herring?”

“So!” our gang imitates him, “is that all you like? And you can't digest a simple piece of herring? Look what a distinguished fellow he is!”

“It can be a simple piece of herring,” agrees Lurye, “but it must have a corner and an end. It must be clearly visible!”

My friend Lampert blushes again, but his face lights up again with joy. He runs to a neighbor and comes back with a quarter liter of salted “lyok” [herring sauce]. Our band claps “Bravo,” but Sonyele Lifshits grimaces:

“Salted lyok...!”

Nevertheless, when I get a big, almost black burnt potato, looking like a piece of banished wood left behind after a fire, and I break off the biggest part of it for her like a “cavalier”, she enjoys the fried potato, which scalds her lips, and even dips it into the salted lyok.

I can't resist the temptation and cuddle up to Sonye. And after eating the potato, I demand my reward and kiss her lips with relish. But I grimace and make a sour face:

“Sonyele! Your lips taste like salted lyok...”

Sonye laughs:

“Wait, once you marry me, you'll see what a salty woman I am!”

But the temptation to kiss her is stronger and, strangely, after the other kisses, I already feel her delicious, juicy lips and not the lyok. It looks as if I've licked the lyok with my kisses. And I'm already floating on clouds of happiness. Everything seems so beautiful and sweet to me, full of dreams of a beautiful, long, endless life. It confuses my young head: the whole world seems to be mine!

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The vitality of the Białystok Jews at that time was enormous, as it was always the case with the Jews in all the most tragic and bitter historical moments of the two thousand years of Jewish exile.

The epidemic diseases, mainly typhus, typhoid fever and dysentery, did not decrease at any time, neither in stronger nor in milder forms. The main reasons were hunger, which caused malnutrition and weakened the body's defenses, and poor sanitary and hygienic conditions, such as a lack of soap, clean linen, clean clothing, and necessary medicines.

The German rulers fought against the diseases not for humanitarian reasons, but simply out of fear that their soldiers and officers, who were quartered in private apartments in the city, might become infected.

The preventive fight against disease was waged by the Germans with the specific Prussian coarseness - by a race that strongly believed in its cultural superiority and its ability to spread “culture” in the world. And this in general, especially among the “stupid Russians” and the “dirty Jews” in the occupied territories.

The Germans used to go from house to house, searching beds, throwing bedclothes out of order, and taking whole crowds of people to the “delousing center” for disinfection. And if anyone happened to pass by such a crowd, he was brutally dragged into the group.

And in the midst of this “bacchanalia,” of hunger and disease, of poverty and human degradation, the Jewish word and Jewish culture flourished among all classes of Jewish Białystok with a passion that gripped the whole city. Beginning with the adolescent youth, it swept away the middle-aged and even the elderly, who suddenly felt that “Yiddish” was not only a language of communication, but also a living word of the mind, of the heart, of thought and feeling.

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The epidemic diseases brought to the fore an institution that began to occupy a respected position in Białystok. This was the “Lines-Khoylim” [Linat-Kholim] on Yatke [Butcher] Street. The organization owed its popularity primarily to its famous ambulance with its small staff of doctors, headed by a young doctor, Zadvoryonski. He had studied in Germany before the war, earned his doctorate, and settled in Białystok. He was a great diagnostician.

Another reason for the great popularity of “Lines-Khoylim” was the ice cellar, the only one in the city. It could provide ice for the sick at any time of the year, and very often a wailing Jewish mother could be seen dragging herself to Lines-Khoylim in the middle of the night to get ice for her sick child.

The ambulance also provided bladders to carry the ice and alcohol-based vaporisers to produce steam for sore throats. The “Linisten” section of the “Lines-Khoylim” was also very popular in the town, as these were boys and girls who had formed a group to bring help to the sick and would usually stand guard all night to distribute the medicine at the appointed time, wash the sick, take their temperature and even prepare a glass of tea and cook some soup.

Dear boys and girls of Białystok! How many sleepless nights did you spend with the poor sick? Without making a fuss and without being thanked, in the cold Białystok nights you went into the most remote, poor alleys, crawled up the high, narrow, dark stairs to the poor apartments far away from the beaten track, to do your Jewish humane duty!

It was a youth that no longer exists, a rare youth that has disappeared and will never return.

The leading group of “Lines-Khoylim” consisted of ordinary persons from the Jewish people, but these individuals had a lot of energy and devotion, which raised “Lines-Khoylim” to a very high level.

Among the most important leaders were: Reygrodski and his wife, who had a paint shop on Rozhanski Street (across from the Lines- Hatsedek). Both he and his wife were small in stature, but lively as quicksilver and full of energy.

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Reygrodski used to leave his paint shop at noon to fulfill a mission for the Lines-Khoylim: An important consultation or urgent help for a sick person.

Velvl Lifshits (a brother of my friend Sonye Lifshits) worked in a soap factory and was enthusiastic about his work for the Lines-Khoylim. He was full-figured, of medium height, with a pleasant smile on his face and narrow, laughing eyes, and was very popular because of his clear, straightforward mind.

Mines, the son of a baker next to the shul's courtyard, was the king of the “Linisten” and received a prize every year for his light and skillful hand in administering injections to the sick.

The year 1917 was approaching - a year that would shake Russia and lead to the reshaping of the world before the Second World War and for dozens of years to come.

Revolution broke out in Russia. Behind the scenes, the German hand was supporting both the Bolshevik leaders from abroad, in Switzerland, and the Russian underground movement with huge sums of money. The Russian autocrat, Nicholas Alexandrovich the Second, was forced to abdicate and was arrested with his entire family. He was later murdered with his wife and children in a cellar in Ekaterinburg, in the house of the merchant Ipatyev, on the secret orders of the Tsheka [secret police]. In later years, a rumour spread that one of the tsar's daughters, Anastasia, was able to escape with the help of an officer who secretly hid her as a seriously wounded woman. The story was never confirmed.

Kerensky, an intelligent and talented lawyer, became the leader of the new Russia. But because he was loyal to the allied governments of England and France, he preached the continuation of the war. The idea of continuing the war was not popular with the exhausted, bleeding Russian masses, who were fighting a war on the fronts as well as a civil war at home. The Bolsheviks exploited this mood for their slogan: “Bread and Peace”.

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They dissolved the Constituent Assembly, the legally elected representatives of all Russian parties, and seized power.

Lenin, Trotsky, Zinoviev, Kamieniev, Rykov, Bukharin, Joffe, Lunacharsky and other Bolsheviks became the leaders of Russia. Trotsky and Joffe were sent to Brest-Litovsk to negotiate an armistice with Germany. Trotsky, who visited the fortress of Brest-Litovsk, wrote a slogan that is still used by Soviet leaders today. It is his famous slogan:

'No peace, no war', because Soviet Russia cannot commit itself to peace treaties that would completely paralyse its underground activity of provoking struggles, uprisings and strikes and thus stand in the way of the realisation of the world revolution.

With bated breath, Białystok followed the huge political events unfolding in the various countries involved in the bloody war. The war dragged on for many years, torturing soldiers to death in fortresses and trenches dug for many miles on all fronts.

It seemed that the war would never end. Suddenly, the events, the claps of thunder, echoed in all parts of the world, including Białystok, which lay on the borders of Germany, Lithuania, Poland and Russia.

In Białystok, local war strategists sat over maps, pinned national flags to them and tried to predict how the war would continue: Such was the belief in German military power that many Białystok 'politicians' from the Bes-Medresh bet that Germany would win the war. Until America, taking advantage of the fact that German submarines had been sinking American ships, declared war on Germany and Austria and joined the Allied forces led by the famous American General John Pershing.

Białystok, which in recent years had been cut off from the Russian language, literature and general Russification, thirstily exploited the Yiddish source.

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Yiddish became the official language of the entire youth. If there were still certain circles in which Russian was spoken among themselves, it was more out of habit than [lack of] knowledge of Yiddish.

The dominant parties in Białystok were:

The Jewish Socialist, the Zionist (Poale-Zion, the General Zionist and the Mizrachi) and the newly formed “Volkspartei” [People's Party]. The latter was led by the famous Warsaw lawyer, orator and social activist Noach Prilutski [Nojach Pryłucki]. The leaders of the People's Party in Białystok were:

Pesach Kaplan, Moshe Visotzky and Aharon Albek.

The Jewish socialists were very active at that time and had great hopes for the progressive ideas of the new Russia. It did not occur to anyone that the Bolsheviks would become the rulers of Russia, where for dozens of years slogans of freedom and liberal views had been propagated with the aim of establishing a just democratic system.

I often came to their pub in the German Street, which was blessed with social institutions such as 'The Dramatic-Literary-Vocal Circle', which later developed, 'The Jewish Art' and the editorial office of 'Dos Naye Leben'.

The pub of the Jewish Socialist was exceptionally crowded, especially on Friday and Shabbat evenings. Young writers read their works there. Intellectuals and socialist theorists gave lectures, and there were stormy, lively discussions on various ideological problems. There was also a cheap buffet where you could take a mock cheap pastry with a glass of hot tea.

But the Zionist world was also feverish with announcements of dreams of “Shivat Zion” [return to Palestine]. Rumors were already circulating about an official declaration by the British government, which in the same year, 1917, became the famous Balfour Declaration, raising hopes for the renaissance of an independent state.

This led to a great upsurge of Zionist forces among the Jewish people and strengthened the hope of realising the great Jewish dream: The establishment of a Jewish country.

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Białystok, nineteen-seventeen. The quiet years are over. The Russian Revolution had ended the monarchist regime of the tsarist, despotic ruler over Greater Russia, Ukraine, Poland, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, and aroused great enthusiasm in socialist circles in Białystok. The Balfour Declaration, officially proclaimed by Professor Chaim Weizmann - the famous English Jew from the small Belorussian shtetl of Motele [Motal], who had distinguished himself during the war years with his chemical inventions -received the official proclamation assuring a “national home” in Palestine for the Jewish people. With England as the Mandatory Power.

The broad Jewish masses in Białystok in general and the Zionist fighters in particular were filled with ecstasy.

America's entry into the war on the side of the Allies and against Germany and Austria aroused great hopes that the war would enter its final phase with the announcement of the collapse of powerful German militarism.

The youth of Białystok changed as suddenly as in a magical story during the years of German occupation. From 13- or 14-year-old boys they became grown men, with changed, masculine voices, with the beginnings of sprouting moustaches and with the self-confidence of a young man who feels within himself the strength to step into life and have something to say.

The girls of this age had also grown up in a few years (women mature earlier) and were mentally advanced because they had read a lot of Jewish and Russian literature during the war years and had taken an active part in social life with newly emerging national and social ideas. Such girls and boys had to be “gesiezt”. Such girls and boys had to be “gesiezt”. Somehow the “Du” no longer suited them.

Romanticism began to take up a lot of space. The young people of Białystok were mostly traditionally national Jewish, but less fanatically Orthodox (unlike Polish Jews), and this had allowed them a free upbringing. And “flirting,” “falling in love,” “svidanyes” [dates], and “ukhazheven nokh meydlekh” [courting girls] were all an exciting part of Białystok youth life.

On summer evenings the “Gorodskoy Sad”, which was already called the “Shtotisher Gortn” [City Garden] in simple “mame-loshn”, was crowded with young

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people sitting on the benches of the alleys spread all over the garden.

They walked in long rows in the middle of the alleys, covering their shoes with gray dust. Couples kissing each other tenderly had even advanced into the alleys by the Byale [Biała] River, which cut through half of the city and flowed through the City Garden.

There was a lot of cheeky banter as people strolled through the alleyways in broad lines, “hitting” on girls, both known and unknown, in a straightforward manner.

The loud giggles of young, joking girls, who knew that they had beautiful voices and were successful with their laughter, did not need much begging and made the City Garden resound with their high-pitched laughter.

Men with alto and bass voices discussed “big” problems, and when they passed a girl from Surazer [Suraska] Street, from the yard of the “shul”, from Pyaskes [Piaski] or Khanaykes [Chanajki], they gave her a light nudge. They were less conceited than the female graduates of Middle Schools, High Schools, and Commercial Schools from Nikolayevske, German, Potshtove, Gumyene, and Lipove Streets.

They had not lost their arrogance: a cheek! After all, they weren't just anybody! Their fathers were cloth manufacturers, owners of cloth shops, owners of large glass or colonial stores.

In Tsertl's Forest, groups of boys and girls could now be seen in the “Green Alley,” especially on Shabbat evenings. They sang dreamy-romantic Jewish and Russian songs, such as “Sheyn iz Reyzele dem Shoykhets” [Beautiful is Reyzele, the Butcher's Daughter] by Segalovitsh, “Margaritkelech” [Daisies] by Zalman Shneour, and the very popular folk songs “A Brivele der Mamen” [A Letter to Mom] - accompanied by a groan to their nearest and dearest in faraway America - as well as “Dos Talesl” [The Little Tallit] and “Der Idiot” [The Idiot].

Or Russian love songs like “Otshi Tshornye” [Black Eyes], “Yamshtshik nye Goni Loshadyei” [Coachman, Don't Rush the Horses! ], the cheerful “Ukhar Kupyets” [The Dashing Merchant], the melancholy and sad “Akh Zatshem Eta Notsh” [Oh, Why This Night], “Vikhozhu Odin Ya Na Dorogu” [I Walk My Path Alone], “Eyda Troyka” and others.

Full of dreams, with hot blood and even hotter imagination, the youth of Białystok rode out into the arena of young, promising life, ready for youthful adventures and the struggle for a position in life, with the individual talents that the youth of Białystok possessed: wisdom, maturity, energy, a sense of reality and a cosmopolitan outlook.

A youth raised in the atmosphere of the spiritual heritage of the Haskalah era, of commerce, of awareness of national and socialist ideas.

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The city was surrounded by countries of different cultures, such as Russian, German, Polish and Lithuanian. These bordered on Białystok, and so a special Jewish youth was formed - a fine combination of a rare type, which bore the name ״ביאַליסטאָקער״ [Białystoker].

Demobilisation began in the lower ranks of the German occupation forces. Even in the higher ranks there were already doubts about victory, but attempts were made to maintain the mask of German discipline and obedience. Like a building that still holds up a little when it collapses, there were already large gaps in discipline through which thefts in the military depots could often be seen.

The German administrators stole in secret and sold the stolen goods to civilians.

Some electrical shops in Nikolayevske, Lipove and Gumyener Streets made a lot of money by secretly buying up many electrical items, such as electrical glasses, copper wire, electrical cables and insulating tape. This was urgently needed as electric lighting was becoming widespread in Białystok and in many surrounding towns where dynamos had been installed and electricity supplied, such as in Supraśl, where Hirshhorn, the owner of a textile finishing factory, had taken over the entire electricity supply for the town.

There was also a public sale of woollen and cotton blankets, light military shoes with spikes, which caused terrible vibrations when walking on the asphalt and pavements of Białystok. All these goods were sold by Germans. We were no longer afraid to buy them, because the Germans were already so depressed and resigned. Even military uniforms were secretly sold by the Germans, but they had already been dyed and mended.

My friend's mother, who was a skillful Jew and not even afraid of the devil, traded with the Germans. Once she brought three revolvers with bullets, which she kept in a sack under the potatoes.

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The Germans became very close to the people. Their pride and arrogance were gone. Professor Vederakin, a well-known German doctor, had a love affair with the owner of a restaurant in the Market Street.

Part of the population of Białystok, who lived on trade with the Germans, watched the approaching events with unease. Many of those who had already come to terms with the Germans still remembered the bitter situation of the Jews in the Tsarist army and the bloody pogroms. They had become accustomed to the idea of remaining under German rule, which at the time was relatively more humane than the Tsarist regime and had not yet shown its bloody brutality.

Moreover, every Jew had some knowledge of the German tongue and could squeeze a few 'basics' into his German-style Yiddish, so that he already considered himself a 'professor' of the German language... to spite the Russians, Poles and Lithuanians, who had respect for the “Jewish brains” who could freely converse with the Germans.

The excitement grew. Once, walking down Lipowa Street in broad daylight, I saw a scene near Topolski's glass shop that showed what the Germans held of their famous German discipline.

A drunken German soldier in an unbuttoned uniform walked with unsteady steps along the sidewalk of Lipove Street.

He was approached by an elegant German officer in a stiff uniform befitting his rank and with even stiffer, proud manners.

The soldier tried to salute, but the officer gave him a contemptuous look and struck him on the chest with his baton.

The soldier didn't think twice, gave the officer (as we say in Białystok) a “khmal” [a slap in the face], turned the officer around like a “lulev” [palm branch] and clenched his teeth: “You damned pig! “...And when the German officer grabbed his revolver, but did not dare to shoot - the soldier turned out of the officer's arms, gave him another “tarobants” (also a Białystok expression) over his head, ran into the yard of Topolski's glass shop, which led out to Yatke Street, and disappeared.

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This scene clearly showed how “victorious” Germany stood by its famous “Deutschland, Deutschland, über alles,” of which my Białystok friend Hershl Veynreykh [Weinreich] wrote this rhyme:

Daytshland, Daytshland iber ales,
Nishto keyn broyt, nishto keyn khales,
Un in dayn groyser, liber “heymat”
Geblibn iz der groyser dales...

[Germany, Germany, above all, there is no bread and also no challah, and in your great, dear “homeland” a great misery has remained...].

The Bes-Medresh Jews, the “diplomats on the podium,” who chewed their beards, twiddled their thumbs in talmudic dispute, and preached with the certainty of military strategists that Germany could not be defeated in war, were bitterly disappointed. The collapse of Germany was complete and was sealed with a terrible defeat of Germany on November 11, 1918 with the Treaty of Vertsailles.

Białystok revived. New times, new hopes arose, especially among the youth.

“What will happen next?” was the question Białystok asked itself.

Suddenly, one fine morning, young Polish “shkotsim” [non-Jewish – mostly peasant- boys] could be seen patrolling the streets with rifles slung over their shoulders. Białystok had hardly expected it. Yesterday's Yanek Vatsek Stashek suddenly became a “balebos” over Jewish Białystok. Polish patriots had secretly prepared the “coup” with the approval of the German “soldiers' councils”.

My mother walked around exhausted.

How could her Germans, who spoke the German of the novels of “Shomer”^[1], those gallant, polite Germans with the fine manners and the beautiful, clean uniforms, the officers with the aristocratic monocles before their eyes, those “all-knowing” and “omniscient”, suffer defeat?

Should the people of Goethe and Heine really have lost the war against the “Ivan” [Russian gentile]?

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Even with the help of faraway America? Mom somehow couldn't believe it.

Then there were new motherly concerns.

There was her older son, David, a boy of military age, and her younger son, Yankele, who was also a young boy and approaching his military service years. In what army would they have to serve now? After all, they were two healthy, lively, cheerful sons, fit for military service.

As they used to joke in Białystok:

“Godyen tsum militer” - a brokh tsu der mamen”.^[2]

Mom continued to wring her hands and walk around worried. When Mom had no present worries, she always worried about the future. How is it possible for a Jewish mother not to worry - so is she then a Jewish mother, anyway?

My brother David didn't worry much. His wife, Sorele, looked into his eyes and believed in him like God. No problem - David will think of something and everything will be fine. Her beautiful smile, full of confidence, never left her face for a minute.

And my brother David had bigger problems than worrying about the military.

He dealt in cloth: “Karelekh” [cheap woolen fabric], “kastor” [cheap suit fabric], “dublir”^[3], blankets that were hidden during the war years and came from Białystok manufacturers such as: Gubinski, Triling, Moreyn, Preysman, Kamikhav, Tsitrin [Citrin], Maes, Paretski, Govenski, Novik, Novik, Yudl Zilberfenig, and also from new wartime manufacturers such as: Gotlib-Seletski, Marinski, and Shimen Kulikovski.

The latter was very popular among the workers. They later saved him from the Soviet Communist police, who invaded Białystok in August 1920.

The carriers were already walking freely with “carcasses”^[4] on their shoulders. People adapted in an appropriate way, without fear^[5]. At the corner of Gumyena Street there were “birzhevikes” [stockbrokers] dealing in “hard” (gold coins) and “soft” (bank notes), Russian “kerenkes” [Kerensky rubles], Tsarist rubles, German “Ost-Marken”, English pounds and “lokshn” (American dollars).

My brother David bartered for German goods and even acquired a revolver with bullets.

Hardly anyone looked around for the “shkotsim” with guns, the young tots. It was thought to be a temporary phenomenon, like a disease that would soon disappear,

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and Białystok would become a purer country with a world name, with a solid, secure government. The Polish “shkotsim” were thought to be only temporary “balebatim”.

1. שמר=Shmr, pronounced “shomer”, was the pseudonym of the playwright Nachum-Meir Shaykevykh. Return
2. Fit for military service” - a “brokh” for the mother. The [cynical] joke lies in the ambiguity of the word “brokh,” which can be translated either as “calamity” or “rupture”. Some conscripts deliberately contracted a rupture to avoid serving the Tsar. Return
3. I don't know for sure what kind of fabric this refers to. It may have something to do with two layers of fabric, or it may refer to the blankets mentioned below. Return
4. פּגרס = The Hebrew term actually means “carcass,” but here it is misspelled and put in quotes. In any case, it refers to “forbidden” goods. Return
5. free translation Return

Bitter disappointment with the Polish government came quickly.

The young Polish recruit was exchanged for a well-trained, older Polish “zholnyezh”. The Polish police set about establish “pozhondek” [order].

During the demobilization of the German army, a military division had been created from one of its parts, which consisted of non-Jewish Poles from Poznan who knew both languages - German and Polish. It was under the command of the notorious general of Poznań, Józef Haller.

The “Halertshikes” (also known as “Poznantshikes”), with their square hats, quickly became the most anti-Semitic section of the Polish army.

They terrorized Jews throughout Poland with their brutality and anti-Semitic riots. Among the saddest chapters of this period were the excesses in Łapy (a town near Białystok), where Jews were driven off the train and whipped with leather straps.

The suffering of the Jews with the new Polish government grew from day to day. Jews had their beards ripped off and pieces of flesh were torn out along with their hair. It was customary to throw Jews out of the windows of the train during the ride and to give them murderous beatings. Polish policemen used to throw baskets of goods from poor merchants into the gutter out of hostility towards Jews.

The Polish anti-Semites became increasingly brazen. An anti-Semitic campaign began to force part of the Białystok textile industry to throw Jewish workers out of the weaving, spinning and tearing mills and replace them with Polish workers, allegedly as a fair demand for a percentage standard of worker distribution.

The Polish government began to extend its sharp, poisonous, pointed anti-Semitic claws.

The millennial habit of the Jewish people to adapt to all conditions,

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was also evident among the Jews of Białystok - in their adaptation to the “new order”, to Polish rule.

Polish-language schools were opened: elementary public schools (“Szkoła Powszechna”) and some High Schools. Among the latter was Gutman's Hebrew High School, which enjoyed the privilege of the Polish rulers and Druskin's High School. Its director, Druskin, had previously been a teacher at Yafe's School.

Under the name “Szkoła Rzemieślnicza”, the Artisans‘ School began to function again with courses in carpentry, locksmithing, furniture repair, textile and electrical engineering (a newly introduced subject), with the engineer Mordekhhay Zablodovski as its director. The Takhkemoyne [Tachkemoni] School also resumed its activities as a Hebrew school, with Mr. Ekshteyn as director and a number of good teachers: Khane Stolova, Levi Shkolnik, Dr. Tuleman (Polish literature), and others.

Overnight the Jewish youth began to speak Polish. It was admirable how quickly the Jewish children mastered the Polish language and could speak literary Polish. Compared to the Jews, the native Poles with their primitive, poor Polish looked like simple peasants. It became fashionable to speak Polish, especially among young girls. If a girl from Białystok spoke Russian, people would joke, shake their heads and say regretfully: “Too bad she's an old girl, from the time of Nicholas”.

But the Jewish youth, educated in Russian High Schools and universities, continued to parade with Russian.

They did not give up their love of Russian language and literature, and when they walked in the streets they spoke loudly and demonstratively in Russian, which was a discordant sound to the ears of the “Polyakn” [non-Jewish Poles].

They saw this as a disregard for the newly established Polish state.  

In fact, it was a deliberate mockery of the “Polyakn” by a number of proud Jews. They wanted to show that there was much less anti-Semitism in anti-Semitic czarist Russia than in the newly established but already chauvinistic and anti-Semitic young Polish state.

The Polish government began to establish “order” on the issue of Polish citizenship and made it very difficult to become a citizen. The question of “Obywatelstwo” [citizenship] was on the agenda in all its severity. Only Jews born in the occupied Polish territories were recognized as Polish citizens.

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Other Jews who came from Russia, Lithuania, the Baltic countries, or from abroad, but who had been living in Białystok for decades, could only obtain a “Tymczasowa”, i.e. a temporary residence card, also known as a “Karta Pobytu”, which had to be renewed every few years with great difficulty.

One had to be in the good graces of the Polish rulers. Anyone who had a “Karta Pobytu” was in fact subject to arbitrariness and was under constant threat of being expelled from the country.

From the very beginning, the Polish government decided to strictly seal off its territory from “undesirable elements”. Pure, brutal chauvinism poked its head. Polish soldiers marched through the streets singing the famous Polish liberation song “My, Pierwsza Brygada” [We Are the First Brigade] and “Jeszcze Polska nie zginęła” [Poland Is Not Yet Lost].

To the latter, Jewish pranksters immediately composed a worthy parody: “Yeshtshe polska nie zginela, puki my zshyemi, yeshtshe vudka nie skvashnyeala puki mi pyemi” (“Poland is not yet lost as long as we live, vodka has not yet turned sour as long as we drink.”).

This was a broad hint at the widespread drunkenness among the “Polyakn”.

For the first time, articles appeared in the Polish press about certain territorial claims against Russia, such as Minsk (Belarus), where there was apparently a high percentage of Poles. This later developed into the “March on Kiev”. Poland's territorial claims against Russia were strongly reminiscent of the German “Lebensraum Theory” and the “Drang nach Osten” [Drive to the East] (towards Russian territories).

This was an attempt by the newly formed Polish government to seize Russian territories by taking advantage of the revolutionary chaos in the Russian civil war, where the Bolsheviks had to fight a bitter battle with the armies of the White Guard [White Army] under Admiral Koltshak, General Kornilov and others after the dispersal of the Constituent Assembly.

They also had to fight the murderous, anti-Semitic Cossacks and their atamans [army leaders] such as Petliura and Makhno and their bloodthirsty gangs, as well as the remnants of the French army in Odessa and the American army in Arkhangelsk.

Apart from the fact that the newly formed Poland was led by Józef Pilsudski, formerly an activist in the P.P.S. (Polska Partia Socjalistyczna), the chauvinist right-wing elements, the “Endekes” [Endecja], (N.D., Naradowa Demokracja), who demagogically called themselves “People's Democrats,” began to become very active.

[Page 203]

They called themselves “National Socialists”, just like the later Hitlerites.

Already during the “honeymoon” of liberated Poland, the national-chauvinist Polish leaders stuck out their poisonous heads. This later led to the assassination of the progressive, liberal Polish President Narutowicz. It was a dark stain on the young Poland; it was also an announcement of the path the newly created Poland would take and the tragic fate of the Jewish minority who had to live in such a poisoned, reactionary, anti-Semitic state.

The names of a number of streets in Białystok were changed. The famous “Nikolayevske” was renamed “Ulica Sienkewicza”, the “Daytshishe” [German] Street leading to the City Garden was renamed “Kilinski” (Kilińskiego), the large market next to the “Bremlekh” was given the name of the Polish national hero and became “Rynek Kościuszki”.

For the first time in its history, Białystok held democratic elections of a Jewish “kehile” (community) in which the whole city and all parties participated. It was a fierce struggle between parties and organizations to be represented in the first democratically elected Jewish community, which was to be a representation of organized Jewish social life in Białystok.

The main parties leading the campaign were:

the General Zionist Party with Khaykl [Chaikel] Aldok, a young man with a pale face and fiery, nervous eyes. He was the main speaker at the Zionist restaurant Beys-Am [House of the People]; the “Poale-Zion” with the red-haired leader Chmielnik at its head; the Orthodox groups that conducted their election agitation in all the Bote-Medroshim: the “Bund” with Shmuel Goldman and Jacob Vaks [Wachs] as its leaders; the S.S. party with the well-known labor leaders Jacob Pat, Israel Geyst, Bishke Gdanski, Moshe Lev, Zaydl Novinski and others.

They conducted their election campaign in their restaurant on “German Street” and at public meetings, even in the “Palast [Palace] Theater”; Tsvi Vider [Tzvi Wider], the baker, a talented orator and publicist in  “Dos Naye Leben”, was the leader of the craftsmen.

Even the “Traders Union” and the “Tenants' Union” had their lists.

The “People's Party”, whose leader in Poland was the famous

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Jewish lawyer and folklore collector Noyekh Prilutski [Noach Pryłucki], also played an important role in the election.

The main leaders of the People's Party in Białystok were: Pesach Kaplan, the editor of “Dos Naye Leben”, Moyshe Visotski [Moshe Wisotzki], the journalist and orator, and Aharon Albek, the editor of “Dos Naye Leben”.

The Poale-Zion party even brought [Yaakov] Zerubavel, who had a strong influence as a labor leader, Zionist and mass speaker.

During the election campaign some funny curiosities happened.

Once an old Jewish woman was walking down Gumyener Street. A young man handing out leaflets urged her to vote for the Zionists and argued with her:

“Bobeshi! Surely you want to go to Eretz Yisroel [the Land of Israel]?”

“Of course, my son,” and the Jewish woman became very animated, “of course I want to go to Eretz-Yisroel. So what, am I to be buried in Bagnówka^[1]?”

“Listen, Bobeshi, you have to vote for the Zionists, because then you will go to Eretz-Yisroel!”

A fiery Bundist lady passed by. Angrily she said to the Jewess:

“Bobeshi, what does your son do for a living? Is he a worker?”

“What do you mean, he's a banker?” smiled the Jewess, “he stitches spats, unfortunately he's only a poor worker, woe is me!”

“Bobeshi!” said the Bundist with passion, “then you must vote for the workers, for the 'Bund'. For the liberation of the working class - and not for the Zionist bourgeois and capitalists”.

In 1919 Białystok also suffered great losses.

The famous rabbi, Reb Chaim Hertz Halpern, who was extremely popular because of his simplicity, devotion and love for the poor Jewish masses, died. He was known for truly sharing his bread with the poor Jews who needed help. He himself was far from being a rich man. During his funeral procession, the streets of Białystok were besieged by thousands of people who accompanied him to his eternal rest. Rabbi Chaim Hertz had been a “moyre-hoyroe” [rabbi, judge] in Białystok for over 50 years, and had taken over the position of rabbi after the death of Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever.

In addition, the Kobriner Rabbi, Nachumke Kobriner, the father-in-law of Rabbi Mair Shtsedrovitski [Szczedrowichi], who lived on Gumyener Street, next to the bridge over the Byale [Biała] River, died.

[Page 205]

Rabbi Mair'ke was very popular in our family, and people did not hesitate to consult him, for he was a wise and beautiful Jew, with a pair of wise eyes, a fresh, rosy face, like a face painted by Yosef HaTsadek.

The well-known Hebrew poet, language teacher and city jester Menakhem-Mendel Davidzon, the father of the famous painter, a cheerful, good-natured and warm-hearted, popular Jew from the Davidzon-Radushkov painting company, also died.

Davidzon left behind two dear children, grandchildren of Menakhem-Mendl Davidzon, warm-hearted compatriots from Białystok.

There is Raoul Davidzon, a well-known, wealthy diamond dealer in Antwerp, who had studied at a Belgian university. He has a sweet, kind heart and helps institutions and individuals, as does the second grandchild, Dvoyre [Deborah] Kleyn-Davidzon, an intelligent Jewish daughter. She is the wife of Shimen Kleyn, a warm and popular Jew.

Dvoyre Kleyn-Davidzon also has a talent for Jewish music and heartfelt folk songs, which permeate the extended Davidzon family tree.

1. District in Białystok with a large Jewish cemetery Return

Next to our cord and rope store was the shoe store of Berl Grinshteyn [Greenstein], a Jew with a brown, broad beard, good, gentle eyes, quick, hasty movements, and a constant smile on his lips. It was the confident smile of a God-fearing Jew who accepts everything out of love and unshakable faith in the God of Israel.

Not once did I see Berl get angry - except on Friday nights when he was the first to close his shoe store. Every few minutes he would come out of his shop, jerk his head up to the clock tower, and when he went back into his shop he would say to his wife, Mushke:

“Well, we've worked enough for Yanek and Stashek, offering shoes! Mushke, it's time to close the hut! After all, the otherworld is also a world, and Shabbat is above all else!”

Mushke, a quiet, warm Jewish woman with a wise, feminine smile,

[Page 206]

and the eyes of a quiet dove, herself thought that Berl was too pious, worried too much about the hereafter and too little about this world. But for the sake of family peace and to be a good, pious, Jewish daughter, she did not object, but quietly and calmly, as was her way, she closed the wooden doors, put the iron bars with the lock in front of them, and went with her husband, Berl, to receive the light-filled, joyful Shabbat.

But for a whole week Mushke and Berl were busy in the little shop, selling durable shoes to peasants and peasant women, such as boots with rubberized sides, high shoes with twenty buttons that had to be fastened skillfully with an iron hook, and Petersburg galoshes with the red star of the “treugolnik” [Russian triangle].

There were “balebatic” shoes for the rich class, which were soft shoes made of goose leather that would not bruise the corns of the rich, and there were very cheap, coarse shoes made of cowhide that was so hard that you could see fire in front of your eyes when you wore them. But, after all, they were worn by poor people, and poor people were used to suffering. Should the rich suffer?!

Berl and Mushke had an only son, Davidl. A noble and fine, quiet and good man, just like his parents. The saying “the apple doesn't fall far from the tree” proved to be one hundred percent true in their case. David was always ready to help someone and do a favor. The kindness of Berl and Mushke was natural, coming from the bottom of their hearts and conviction: “על שלושה דברים העולם עומד” [The world stands on three things]^[1] - and a kindness, a “gmiles-khesed”, is one of those things.

If a shopkeeper walked around worried because he had to pay a bill tomorrow but had no income, Berl could smell it and called the neighboring shopkeeper. And as was his way, he would quickly say to the Jew, “Foolish Jew, what are you worrying about? God is our Father. He creates life and gives everything for life!”

And turning to Mushke, he used to say: “Mushke, take out 50 zloty and give him a 'gmiles-khesed'!”

He would comfort his embarrassed neighbor and add, “Today you borrow from me, tomorrow I'll borrow from you. It's not the end of the world.”

Although Berl knew that he didn't need to go to his neighbor for a “gmiles-khesed,” because Berl had money, ran his business solidly, and had few expenses. And if he didn't have any money, he didn't think twice, but sent his wife to move the jewelry so that he could give a “gmiles-khesed”.

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Berl Grinshteyn had a brother, Shoyke. He also had a shoe shop on the “Bremlekh”, but Shoyke was cut from a different cloth. He was the opposite of Berl.

While Berl was a quiet Jew who was happy with everything and did not chase after money, Shoyke was a very greedy person and in love with money. He ran large businesses, was an educated merchant, and was more devoted to people than to the Creator of the world. He was a solid trader, but when necessary, Shoyke could take high risks with thousands of zlotys. He traded with generosity and his skills as a merchant were well recognized.

It is strange how the same parents can have two children who represent two different worlds. They were two opposite people, not only inwardly but also outwardly, for Shoyke wore no beard and had a shaved face, did not rush to the Minkhe or Mayriv prayer, but left the “oybershtn” [the Lord] alone. In fact, one might think that Shoyke was happy that the “oybershte” left him alone and did not interfere with his business.

Across the street from Berl Grinshteyn's shoe store, next to Leon and Genye Dreyzin's haberdashery, was a paint store as big as four Breml stores combined. The owner of the paint store was Moyshke Bakhrakh, a modern Jew with bright, moving eyes, a mischievous smile, and a good, smart merchant's head on his shoulders. Moyshke, of medium height, with a graceful face and an easy tongue, was the joker of the “Bremlekh”, but also the advisor in various cases when people needed to reflect.

Most of the time, Moyshke was busy in his shop, his eyes smeared with paint, wearing short boots and, in winter, a high “barashkenem” [lamb] hat. Moyshke was the favorite of  the “Breml” because in his spare time, when he had no customers, he tried to amuse and cheer up the neighbors. His wife Esther, a small, beautiful, cultured woman, didn't particularly like her husband's tricks, but she didn't say anything and laughed along with her husband's tricks and funny remarks.

Esther was a “no-sayer. She was one of those cautious women who would not be tempted to do a favor for someone because something bad might come of it.

It is characteristic that people fall into two categories: Good people who almost always have a “yes” on their lips, even if they suffer from it later.

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And there are bad people who have “no” on their lips. But they also suffer later, because bad people are rejected by everyone in hard times.

Moyshke was a cheerful scoundrel. Although he was a rich Jew with a big business and a lot of money, and the owner of a big house on Angers Street, he kept himself simple and folksy. He was not arrogant and liked to play practical jokes.

He used to sneak into the shop of the old, God-fearing, somewhat naive Feygele Krinski, a Jewish woman in her sixties, and run out shouting that Feygele wanted to rape him. The pious, quiet Feygele would blush like a young girl, smile shyly, and reply:

“Go on, go! What can he think of! You know Moyshke and his jokes! He'd better go and pray to Minkhe!”

The shopkeepers of Breml would hold their stomachs with laughter and look at the naive, bashfully blushing Feygele.

That's why they used to “take revenge” on Moyshke when his shop was so full of customers that you couldn't even throw a pin in it. Gentile men and women were sent to his store to buy two pins for a penny. But Moyshke didn't have any pins to sell in his paint store. When he finished serving his customers, he would go out of his store, stand in the middle of the other stores, and call out loudly:

“Well, my benefactors! Who will get the commission for the buyers of the needles you sent to me?”

He laughed good-naturedly himself, and joined in the laughter of his neighboring shopkeepers on the Breml, for this time it was they who had played a trick on Moyshke.

But Moyshke had a fine, good character, and when a shopkeeper from Breml needed an endorsement for a bill, he turned to Moyshke, who, when he thought about it, knew only too well that his neighbor's signature was worthless, since he was in a difficult financial situation and no one knew if he would be able to pay. Nevertheless, Moyshke did not refuse, but gave the poor neighbor a bill, risking several thousand zloty, which was a considerable sum among the shopkeepers of the Breml.

On the corner of the Breml, next to Moyshke's paint shop, was a shoemaker's supply store, run with seriousness and dignity by a not-so-young girl with the surname Likhtenshteyn [Lichtenstein]. The girl did not fit in at all with the Breml. She was an intelligent, well-educated person with fine, noble manners.

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She had some education and considered herself a fine woman, so she suffered a lot from having a shoemaker's accessories shop. This meant that she had to deal with cobblers, with makers of “paputshe” (cheap cloth shoes), and with simple, rough people with poor manners or rude peasants who came in with manure-stained boots and often treated her harshly.

She suffered a lot, but didn't show it. Later she married a noble, handsome man, a cloth manufacturer named Fridman.

He often suffered from the crises in the textile industry and was glad that his wife had a secure livelihood. He often helped her in the shop.

They were both a couple of noble, educated people. Although they were a little too stiff and didn't mix with the neighbors, they were respected and liked.

This was almost the basic characteristic of the Breml: there was not a bit of arrogance among the shopkeepers. Though some were rich and others bitterly poor, relations among them were cordial and friendly, even between shopkeepers who traded in the same goods and were close to each other.

The silent competition among them did not interfere with the friendship and cordiality among them, truly like a large, branched, and diverse family.

One of the most remarkable types on the Breml was the “Kulyavke”. She had a rich haberdashery business, which she ran together with her daughter and son-in-law. The “Kulyavke” was a short, fat, broad Jewish woman who ran her business with enormous aggressiveness, an iron will, and a firm hand. Her daughter and son-in-law quietly followed her instructions. The daughter, a quiet, calm woman, and the son-in-law, a former student of the Talmud, were afraid of her gaze.

The sales system introduced by the “Kulyavke” was based on their firm character, which in America is formulated as follows: A person who doesn't take no for an answer. She always had to finish something and have the last word. She usually sat by the door of her store, while her daughter and son-in-law haggled with customers inside. They knew that a salesman would ask for twice the price, so they would offer half, shouting in Polish:

“A połowy nie chcesze? And you don't want half?”  And the haggling continued. One shouted over the other.

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The shopkeepers usually threw in Hebrew words among themselves: “A ma'ke dem orl, gib im bekhinem...andersh vil er nisht”. [A plague on this goy, give him nothing at all, he doesn't want it any other way]. They would clap their hands and the customer would go to the door as if he was leaving - a kind of political war of nerves in a primitive way. Most of the time, the customer really wanted to leave for the competition, having felt the goods and wasted the shopkeeper's time.

But not at the Kulyavke, not at Motye!

A customer could not leave the store without buying something. The daughter or son-in-law would wink at the “Kulyavke”. If a customer wanted to leave the store without making a purchase, the “Kulyanke” who sat by the doors would pull her “kulye” [crutch] all the way in front of the door, not letting the customer out, but driving him back into the store. The customer would feel sick and usually buy something. In short, you didn't leave the kulyavke store empty-handed.

The “Kulyavke” was cold and stiff even to her neighbors. Maybe she wasn't a bad person, but she was a great despot. She couldn't tolerate me since I couldn't stand her, because shopkeepers with such business ethics deserve no respect. When she found out that I was studying English at night at Tachkemoni School, she crowned me with the name “Englishman”.  If she had called me “American,” she would have foreseen it earlier.

She was also angry with me for standing up for Mushke Grinshteyn. The “Kulyavke” deliberately covered Mushke's shop with its door, which was next to hers. So I stood up for Mushke and pulled her small door over “Kulyavke's” big store. (The “Kulyavke” had a big shop and Mushke had a small shop).

But the “Kulyavke” usually waved her “kulye” [crutch] at me and told me to pull the door of her shop back over Mushke's door.

Mushke used to wink at me, telling me not to bother and not to pay any attention to her. However, my eternal revolt against injustice could not accept that the noble Mushke should submit to the malice of the despotic “Kulyavke”.

But these were isolated cases. For the most part, the Breml shopkeepers lived in extraordinary unity.

[Page 211]

They helped each other with interest-free loans and rejoiced together in the celebration of “brisn” [circumcisions], “tnoim” [betrothal contracts], and “khasenes” [weddings]. And they mourned together at family tragedies. This touching kindness, the mutual help, the sympathy in case of misfortune, the mutual interest in each other - all this bound the loyal and hearty Breml shopkeepers closely together in one big family.

This was so genial at that time, when all kinds of Jews were so mercilessly exterminated.

Itkele was one of the most remarkable types among the shopkeepers of the Breml. She had a long, narrow shop where she sold haberdashery. But she was poor because she had no goods. But she had many children.

And so Itkele was always surrounded by children who were ragged and terribly hungry.

Itkele was a small woman, with a rather beautiful face, red cheeks and burning eyes that never rested. She was a devoted “yidishe mame” who was always running around worrying about how she was going to make a living for the week - with a dress, a pair of pants, and most of all, food for her “little birds” who were always getting between her feet. They were small, lively, spirited children with red cheeks like their mother's and voracious appetites like all poor people.

Itkele had a husband who helped her run the “business,” “mishteyns gezogt” [alas!]. His name was Yisroel, and like the children, he was always running after Itkele. Because she was in charge and “wore the pants”. The quiet Yisroel didn't mess with Itkele, because in the course of things he would have lost. He didn't make fun of her, but let her run the business, even though he didn't like many of the arrangements. Little Itkele did things that were not allowed and could only be excused by her concern for earning a living and a morsel of bread for her little “squirrels”.

So Itkele waged a battle against the farmers from the village who came to the “Bremlekh” to sell something: pears, potatoes, and other produce from their gardens and fields. If a farmer came to sell a sack of apples and asked a high price for them, Itkele's roaring temper would boil over. As she stood next to the farmer with the sack of apples, she would summon her “hungry army,” the children. And while she haggled with the farmer, she put an apple in each of her children's mouths.

[Page 212]

When the farmer saw that Itkele gave each child an apple, he was sure that he had found the right customer who would certainly pay the price. So he became stubborn and would not budge from his price. Itkele would pluck the bitten pieces of apple out of the children's mouths and throw them back into the farmer's sack. Accompanied by the laughter of the shopkeepers of the Breml, who were already aware of Itkele's pranks, she would quickly move off.

One of the best Breml types was the rich Fayvl Rogovski with his manufacturing business. He was also called “Fayvl the Heyzeriker” [the hoarse one]. His son, a handsome, elegant, well-dressed fellow, was a friend of mine. Fayvl gave a lot of time to community activities, especially collecting money for the poor. Every Friday you could see the tall, honorable, well-dressed Fayvl with his neatly combed beard standing in the middle of the Breml, with his hand outstretched to the right and left, collecting money for poor Jews who didn't have enough to “make Shabbes” or for other needy poor people.

Fayvl Rogovski made a wonderful impression with his friendliness, his courteous manner, and the kind smile that hovered on his lips, and it was impossible to refuse him. Everyone gave him a handout. He was part of the Breml and a kind of “charity” himself. It was not easy for Fayvl to collect donations in the middle of the Breml every Friday of the week, regardless of the weather, because he was the owner of a large manufacturing shop and his wife desperately needed him in the shop. But she looked her husband in the eye and remained silent. Was she not supposed to follow her husband?

Like many Jews of that time, Fayvl believed that Judaism had no value without “mitsves” [mitsvot], without helping the poor, without a measure of mercy, without charity and benevolence. I do not believe that Fayvl, who was a modern Jew, did this with regard to the “hereafter”, the “paradise”, the “shor-haber” [the legendary ox of the hereafter], or the “levoysn” [Leviathan]. In his case, it was the call of his soul that led him to help people in need.

The “Bremlekh” were especially colorful and lively on a market day, which usually fell on a Christian holiday. Farmers from all the villages would arrive on [wide, flat] “drongove” carts or on carts covered with tarpaulins. They wore colored shirts, had tanned faces, and their boots were smeared with blue tan. With them came non-Jewish women in flowered headscarves, with fat, bloated bodies from the constant consumption of bread and potatoes.

[Page 213]

They were full-bosomed, with sunburned, smiling faces and sparkling eyes. Many peasant women also came on foot along the highways from Kharoshtsh, Zabłudów, Suprasl, and Vashlikove. They marched barefoot, with their healthy village feet, their clothes rolled up over their knees and their shoes thrown over their shoulders. After all, shoes were a fortune to be spared - and there was more than one young peasant woman who married an old peasant for a pair of shoes.

When they came to Białystok, they wiped their bare feet and crawled into their shoes without socks, or they put “onitshes” (pieces of linen) over their feet and marched proudly into the city. They looked with childlike curiosity at the city life, at the tall, painted stone buildings, the cobblestone streets, the beautiful restaurants and cinemas. But most of all, they looked at the people. The men in good suits with goose leather ankle boots and the women in new dresses with high, shiny, laced goose leather shoes that were worth a fortune.

More than one Christian woman in the village crossed herself when she went into a house and turned on the tap. She would admire it and call out:

“Olya-Boga! Woda wylewa się ze ściany!” [My God! Water is pouring out of the wall!]

It was precisely this crowd of village “goyes and goyim”  who made up most of the Breml's customers, except for the urban Christians from Białystok, who were shrewd, watchful people. They haggled, clapped their hands, offered half the price, thought they knew all the prices, and if they didn't get a bargain, they didn't buy.

And the Jewish Breml shopkeepers were sick to their stomachs with such city customers, who stood at the door, threatened to buy from someone else, and kept saying:

“Don't be so smart! We'll get it cheaper!”

On such a market day, when it was teeming with gentile ladies and men, “shiksas” and “shkotsem”, dressed in wild, bright colors - mostly in home-woven dresses of drillich - the Breml was lit with life.

They [the shopkeepers] fought, screamed at the top of their lungs for customers, exaggerated as much as they could, tried to convince the customers that they were giving them the goods “za darom” (for free), and tried to shout over the others. This went on until one side got tired and gave in (usually the customer).

The farmer would then, with calloused hands, pull out the leather purse, which was usually as long as the Jewish “goles” [exile], and begin to count the copper coins.

[Page 214]

They smelled of wagon grease, petroleum, or turpentine.

On a market day like this, pickpockets also scrounged. It often happened that a shopkeeper who was haggling with a peasant woman saw someone pull the knotted handkerchief [containing the coins] out of her basket, and the thief disappeared with the few pitiful pennies. All their work was in vain, for the gentile woman had nothing left with which to pay. But the shopkeepers were scared to death of the thieves and had to keep quiet for fear of revenge.

When the peasant woman went to pay, she noticed that someone had pulled out her knotted handkerchief, and she cried out:

“Matka Boska! Mother of God! Thieves have stolen from me!”

The thief usually gave the knotted handkerchief to another thief so that if he was caught, no stolen goods would be found on him.

On one of these market days, my mother worked very hard in her little shop, and when there was a lot of hustle and bustle, I helped her sell string and whip sticks. I didn't like to haggle, and I would give the “final” prices right away. And when the gentiles began to haggle, my patience and pride would burst, and I would give them a sharp reply. My poor mother would shake her head:

“Yankele, you'll never be a shopkeeper.”

I would then wait until the hustle and bustle was over, leave the shop, and wander around the market to watch the bustling market life.

Once, as I was passing Lintseki's glass shop in the big market, I stopped beside the shop, overwhelmed by childhood memories. Lintseki was the son-in-law of our landlord on Khanaykes, Fisher, with whom we lived, and I was at his daughter's wedding.

I remember when Fisher's daughter, a small, fat person who spoke fast and mumbled, celebrated her wedding.

We live in Fisher's stone house on Khanaykes, on the corner opposite the “Khanaykover” Bes-Medresh. And there Mom cleans and washes me, combs my hair, puts on new pants, and we go somewhere.

“Where are we going?”

“To the wedding of our landlord Fisher's daughter.”

I am dragged along by the hand. It is a long, very long journey for a boy of three or four.

Papa takes me in his arms, and I am curious: where are they taking me so late at night, when the sky is black and I should be going to sleep? Where are we going? And now we were approaching a big house, a long house (Piser's wedding hall) and many droskies.

[Page 215]

I am led by the hand into a large hall with many chairs on both sides and many, many people. They are hugging and kissing. Why are they kissing? And they are crying! Why are they crying? Strange, these adults. My parents lead me to many people, strangers, I don't know them. They pinch my cheeks, kiss me, bend down and say something.

I don't understand what they say. And there is music - so much music and so much commotion.

People are drinking from glasses, eating cakes, and crying. I don't understand the adults. And there is more music - such commotion, such noise. And I am tired, terribly tired.

I can't take it anymore. I fall on the carpet, next to the bride's chair. Good people take me and put me under the big chair where the bride was sitting. I fall asleep, sleep soundly, and disappear into vague, blurry childhood dreams. I don't remember them, they are far away, far away from all the incomprehensible, big, grown-up people.

They are so big and incomprehensible!

1. from Mishna Avot 1:2, “On three things the world stands: on the Torah, on the service and on acts of loving kindness”. Return

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