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Personalities

Reb Yankele Stein

The great scholar, the real genius of the generation, Reb Yankele Stein, was a Jew who sat day and night and studied the Torah – a Chassid who never cared about this or that rabbi. He was modest, had a diploma as a rabbi but never used it. He was a Dayan in the Jewish Court of Justice. The fact that Reb Yankele Stein was a scholar of the Torah was written on his face; physically weak, a white and yellow complexion with a silvery short beard and side locks, a pelted round hat, long white socks with slippers, a linen shirt with bands at the neck; his clothes one on top of the other with a stick in the hand: a long Turkish Talith-Katan with long 'tsitsis' freely showed from under the clothes. When he walked in the street people would step aside out of respect. His income was meagre and his children traded in vinegar and thus made a living.

Reb Yankele Stein was also active in the community. Every week he collected money for tuition fees for poor Jewish children; he conducted a sort of 'business'. He used to have one kind of change which the strange poor people would exchange for another kind of coin. Reb Yankele Stein also had another community mission: Friday evening he would chase the enthusiastic bathers from the bath to save them from profaning the Sabbath.

How did I happen to make the acquaintance of this spiritual Jew? When I went to school, my teacher, an angry gentile, an anti-Semite, ordered all the

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Jewish boys to take off their 'yamelkes' and hold their hands together when the Christian pupils said their morning prayer. I did not like it and I told my father about it. He went straight to Reb Yankele and imparted it to him. The following morning, Reb Yankele came to the school, spoke to the principal and the decree was cancelled.

When Reb Yankele died the whole town was in mourning. It was a gloomy and rainy day, as though the sky wept too. The people that were to prepare the body for burial cleansed themselves first. Between Mincha and Ma'ariv, the whole Jewish community assembled in the synagogue courtyard where the funeral ceremony took place.

Another beloved personality brightened the horizon of Dobromil. It was the poet and the town cantor, Reb Yankele Fink. When he was no more in this world, it was told that he had prayed in the Big Synagogue on the Holy Days and on other holidays. The people could not stop wondering at the sweetness of his voice that melted like balsam in the body. He was highly orthodox, a very respectable Jew, had a lyric-tenor voice and never liked the imitators with the tall hats at the Mizrach Wall who used to come to the synagogue after half of the Musaf was over. When that happened, Reb Yankele would pull up his long Talith and angrily express in singing his insult at the appearance of the late Germanized guests. But when it came to a certain prayer then not only the women on the three floors wept,

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but everybody in the big synagogue was in tears. He used to break hearts with his praying.

When he died, his son Mordechai Shlomo took over. The women indeed enjoyed his singing with a bass voice but the men sighed about this not being Reb Yankele Fink. With his singing, he brought in so much holiness and every year on the High Holidays, the people remembered their beloved cantor, Reb Yankele.

Although Dobromil was not a big city, it stood out among the neighbouring towns. It was the county seat and had a county house where young men at the age of army-service had to appear before a commission to be drafted for the army. Dobromil had its own court and a pretty town-hall where the city council held their meetings.

Dobromil belonged at that time to Galicia – a province of the Hapsburg Dynasty and Jews could hold their little official positions, one of them was Reb Itzikl (Argand) the postman. He was a nice Jew, venerable and a sincere orthodox Jew whose name was mentioned years later with great respect. He was intelligent, he could hold the pen in his hand and knew Polish, German, Hebrew and Yiddish. In town, there were two postmen: a Christian who worked in the non-Jewish neighbourhood and Reb Itzikl who worked in the Jewish neighbourhood.

One Saturday night after sorting the letters in the post office, Reb Itzikl fell asleep in his Saturday clothes. When he went out the next morning, his Christian

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neighbour wondered at his going so early to a party…. Reb Itzikl was very much beloved by the Jews. Upon delivering letters, he always had a clever word and his face always had a smile. Many of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren were named after him.

The town had a few good non-Jewish doctors such as Zviklizer and Puchalski. There were no Jewish doctors in Dobromil. Dr. Brauner was a doctor with no diploma. In the Jewish part of Dobromil nobody was called by his surname. Since the doctor had no hair on his head, the Jews had a name ready for him – Shemayah…..

When Dr. Brauner called other doctors for a concilium, they came out of politeness. His house was on the 'dead' street. Dr. Brauner was a very kind hearted man. Many a time he did not take money for his services. When a midwife had difficulties in delivering a baby, Dr. Brauner was called. He would also help the poor peasants in the villages. He wore short coats and also spoke a broken German dialect. He was a joker and also liked to hear funny anecdotes. In town there was a Jew – Petachia – the witty one. Once on a Sunday morning, Petachia was seen running with his tfillin-bag from prayer. Dr. Brauner stopped him and asked him to tell him a good lie for the new week. Petachia did not think long and said: “Doctor, it is being said in town that you are the best doctor”…

Dr. Brauner was modest. He liked the common people. He was elected to the Kultusrath. He was chairman

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of the “Yad Charuzim” and also chairman of the new Talmud-Torah.

In those days there was in town a woman devoted to good deeds. She was a good, hearty and sincere soul, Feige Tchuper. She even had her name given to a volunteer women's aid organization in America.

She liked to help and was the Angel Raphael for poor sick people of whom there were many in Dobromil…

Feige Tchuper really found the way of helping poor sick people especially poor women who were about to give birth; people with T.B. and others. Her clothes were cut in the old fashioned way; she dressed like a Rebizin with a veil like a turban on her head, a long black dress with a small embroidered coat over it. When she was seen between Mincha and Ma'ariv in the street holding her hand under the little coat, it was sure that Feige Tchuper was carrying to somebody a newly cooked chicken with some wholesome soup to strengthen a poor sick mother or a poor woman in labour or a cup of cooked milk with fresh cooked eggs for a run-down sick one.

The town doctor, Zvicklizer used to call Feige Tchuper 'The Nurse' and when she died, Dr. Zvicklizer, who was then the mayor of Dobromil, ordered all the town lamps covered with black and lighted at the time of the funeral of the great benevolent lady. All the stores in town were closed and almost everybody who knew her went after the bier to accompany her to her eternal rest.

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Gitele Volf Zoer's

She was a real pious woman. I don't know from which town she had come. She married Reb Volf Zoer who had a saloon of wine and beer. Gitel was young, of small height, a weakling but a good soul. Besides the known poor people in town, many poor families also hid their poverty and terrible want. But Gitele found them out and secretly helped them. She would also take care of poor mothers after birth with a little good freshly cooked broth, a chicken or milk. A needy person only had to step over Gitele's threshold and he would not leave empty handed. She did it all so pleasantly and so quietly that nobody would know, nobody would see so that those who were helped by her would not have to feel the shame. If somebody refused help, she would beg him to receive it as a loan.

If someone brought her as collateral for a loan an article that was used on Saturday, she would secretly bring it back on Friday to save the person the shame of going to the synagogue without it.

Gitele was known by old and young in Dobromil as a good, pious and sincere woman and also for her devotion to the needy. May her memory be blessed!

Dobromil, like all other little towns in Galicia, had its clean but also muddy streets and by-ways. Aside from their official name, those streets also had, for facilities
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sake, nicknames. A street, the name of which was Uliza Skalka, was nicknamed the Shoemakers' Street or “Shistergas” even though everybody knew that it was inhabited by tailors, bakers, carpenters, stevedores, “fiakerniks” and other artisans. Still, the name “Shistergas” remained for generations.

Since I was born and brought up in Dobromil, the matter of the Talmud-Torah is still fresh in my memory. Several families were connected with this matter, from the Shoemakers' Street and from other places, families that deserve to be mentioned. Since the history of the Talmud-Torah starts with the Shoemakers' Street, I first have to mention the poor inhabitants who, at that time, lived there with their families: Yonah Shmuel Leib's, Arieh Druke and Moshe Shmuel Leib's.

Yonah was a sick person with a thin and pale complexion, always coughed and breathed heavily. He had s short yellow beard and blue lively eyes. Due to his sickness he was always nervous.

Arieh, a tall thin Jew with a long black beard, hands and face always smeared with black (from the black paint which he used to paint the peasants' white linen for their clothes). He had a large family. Actually, all had large families.

Moshe Shmuel Leib's, a brother of Yonah was indeed a shoemaker by profession but as he did not earn much, he bought an old thin mare, exactly as in the stories of Mendele Mocher-Sforim. Moshe used to drag himself with horse and cart to the railroad station and day-after-day rode passengers from there, if there were any, because many a time there were more cart-men than passengers. Also, Moshe sometimes came with

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an empty cart. He was by nature very quiet. Saturday he would sit at the table and listen to a chapter of Chumash being taught but it never brought a living…..

All those who lived on the Shoemakers' Street were as far from wealth as the sky is from the earth. The above-mentioned three families were indeed connected with the founding of the town's Talmud-Torah.

In Dobromil there was also a custom that when a Jewish boy became three years old, his father would wrap him in his large Talith (with cake and some alcoholic beverage) and carry him in his arms to the tutor in Cheder where the boy made his first acquaintance with the Jewish letters and after three or four years, he went to hire teachers where he studied Chumash, Rashi, the Bible and Gemara with the Tossafot (additions). But this was possible only when the parents could afford it or had some income.

Dobromil did not lack, God Forbid, tutors. There were enough Chumash-Rashi tutors and Gemara tutors. There were only two small children's tutors: Melech Melamed and Leib Itzik. The former, i.e. Melech Melamed, had a good reputation. He had a few assistants and he had as pupils the wealthier children and those of the middle class. Leib Itzik's Cheder, on the other hand, wasn't so big. He had only one assistant. Besides that, Leib Itzik was an invalid, a stutterer and, therefore, had pupils only from the poor class who could hardly afford the tuition fee and the payment for the little wood to heat the 'cheder' in winter and once in a while treat the assistant to a small breakfast

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after he was finished with dressing the boy, washing and praying and kissing the Zizith.

Leib Itzik divided the people into three categories: owners of small stores; workers and the very poor people. The two former somehow paid but the latter simply did not have with what to pay and it was very hard to teach the poor children. Those parents who carried heavy sacks of flour on their backs, ground some oats, drove to the railway station even though their respective income was very small and hardly sufficed for a day's living, could not pay tuition fee. As far as pieces of wood were concerned, they themselves were in need of them when the frost came. It was difficult to get even some twigs to heat their own apartments. It often occurred that the children went to cheder without any warm food for breakfast. The poor children grew thin although they were supposed not to miss anything in Leib Itzik's cheder, which was far from the truth. As a matter of fact, the poor children did not even attend the cheder and had no approach to the table at which the other children learned. There was nobody to care for them and the community did nothing.

In the meantime, a movement was founded in Dobromil for the election of a 'culture committee' that would have the power to put order in all community matters. There was much tumult in town and meetings were being held in private houses. Candidates were chosen for the 'culture committee'. In one meeting, they even put up the candidacy of Leizer the tailor and Hersh Flank the shoemaker so as to have them control the efficiency of the 'culture committee' but everything went according to the old custom. After the elections, it

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became quiet again Dobromil and nothing was done to open the municipal Talmud-Torah. Then the Shoemakers' Street woke up and the poor families decided that something had to be done in the matter. Three from among the present were chosen to impart to the culture committee the demand of the poor families about establishing a Talmud-Torah that would not be under the control of the above-mentioned tutors. The three were: Yonah Shmuel Leib's, Arieh Druker and Moshe Shmuel Leib's. They chose Yonah as their speaker even though he was a sick man.

The three went to look for an open door which was not so easy to find. The sick Yonah became impatient and informed the town's people what the matter was and hit the table with his fist, roaring that Jewish poor children were idling around and could afford no schooling. It was, he said, the duty of the 'culture committee' to see that there be a Talmud-Torah. Yonah, Arieh and Moshe were persistent until the culture committee decided to establish a municipal Talmud-Torah and to that end taxed the people with a small weekly payment to cover the payment for the tutor. The grey-bearded Reb Mendele Spatz should also be mentioned here. He collected the money very courageously every Friday. My father, Meir Treiber or, as he was called 'Meir Kralnik', became the first tutor in the Talmud-Torah in Dobromil and thanks to the devotion of the sponsors, all the poor children enjoyed Jewish education.

Dr. Brauner should also be mentioned in this connection. He helped a lot in the matter of the Talmud-Torah in Dobromil.

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Dobromil was one of the oldest towns in Galicia. This was attested to by the municipal building, the old synagogue and the Polish church which, according to legend, were built at the time of the Kingdom of Old Poland where barons and dukes reigned over duchies and baronets. The synagogue and the Polish church were built by the old Herbut dynasty of which the old castle near Dobromil is still a reminder.

Before I begin to relate my memories, I must first of all mention Naftali 'Shames' who was an exceptional personality. Not only did he have the key to the big synagogue in his possession but even the key to the whole town. I still seem to hear his call to prayer every Friday evening and Saturday morning, winter and summer, in the severest frosts and the strongest torrents. He would go from house-to-house and with a melodious voice, call: “In Shiel Arein!” Most especially did this call sound mellifluous in the summer months when, with a little imagination, one could think the sound as being an echo from the sun.

In the big synagogue only the Ashkenazi liturgical chant was used of which Naftali Shames was the exponent. He was the supervisor of all ancient tradition that came down from former generations.

Reb Naftali himself was a very talented person. He was a great Hebrew scholar, a student of the Bible and an exceptionally clear and punctilious public

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reader of the Torah. His melodic line and his accentuation of the proper points in the reading bore witness to his wonderfully musical ear. When Reb Naftali reached old age, he only read the Torah in public on weekdays, Mondays and Thursdays. On Saturdays, his son Kalmale took over the so-called 'leinen' of the Torah. My God! What a bewitching voice that was! Although we did not frequent the synagogue for prayer because we prayed in the big “Klaus”, I had the good fortune of hearing Kalmale when my father took me along on Rosh Hashanah to the big synagogue where he was entrusted with blowing the ram's horn. Kalmale's 'leinen' was like the sound of silver bells.

Kalmale was in general a very handsome man. His clothes were meticulously clean. He was the head bookkeeper at the Jewish Bank. Until today I still do not know where he learned his profession since Dobromil never possessed a commercial school. The beautiful penmanship in Yiddish, Polish and German evidently came to him as a heritage from his father.

I recall that at the age of seven my father sent me to Reb Naftali to learn to write Yiddish. I bought for a penny a big sheet of paper. My father had given 40 Heller with which to pay tuition fees. I went to Reb Naftali, who lived in the Shistergass in a small house. I was a welcome guest and I told him that my father begged him to teach me to write. Reb Naftali laid down his long pipe, blew out the last puffs of smoke, took the big sheet, ruled it and on the first line wrote for me the Alef Beth which I was to copy on the rest of the sheet. After mastering the Alef

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Beth, I learned to write words and in a few weeks I was able to take Yiddish dictation.

Naftali Shames was also a master of the Hebrew print. He wrote several Megillahs in beautiful ritual block letters and in his old age, he wrote his own Sefer Torah. Reb Naftali was also the trusted official translator from one to the other of the several prevalent languages. Little did the city know what profound learning resided in their Reb Naftali Shames.

Naftali Artzt and his children and grandchildren were very much loved in our little city. Naftali was quite well versed in medicine and often diagnosed a sickness much better than a physician. With a very light hand, he pulled out teeth, put cups and leeches on sick people and really relieved pain. His wife Dobre, a pious and charitable woman, was a midwife blessed by God. She delivered half of the city's children. From poor families she refused to accept a fee for her attendance and in addition brought food and clothing to the mother and the new baby. The whole Artzt family were handsome boys and girls. It seems to me that all the children practiced the father's profession.

The daughter, Dinah Ethel was a beautiful brunette, a type of Shulamith or Biblical Ruth. She dressed elegantly and in good taste. She followed her mother's profession and in many respects even excelled her mother in competence, kindliness and charity.

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She delivered most of the Jewish children and many gentile families considered themselves lucky to obtain the superior services of Dinah Ethel. All families in Dobromil, both Jew and Gentile, had more confidence in her than in the biggest paediatrician in Przemysl. She attended and catered to these women and their babies like a kindly mother. With her energy and persuasiveness, she induced even the most stingy to help their towns-people where assistance was needed.

In the early twenties and already a widow, she immigrated to America with her two sons. The older son Mano succeeded in reaching Hollywood and became a special adviser in the studios of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. When Mano died in the winter of 1956, our people lost a loving and sympathetic friend.

The younger son, Willig is very gifted and talented. He is highly intelligent and has shown great ability as a writer, technician and inventor. In his youth he demonstrated his dramatic prowess by appearing as the main protagonist in several classical plays. Willig, or Walter as he is now called, is well versed in Yiddish literature. When he came to America he became active in the Yiddish press under the name of Heni. Today, Walter is the president of Lisle Mills as well as many other big textile companies. His products are known all over the world. The children of the world are the greatest admirers of Walter and are thankful to him for his beneficial patents.

Walter is very active in Israeli charities as well as in many cultural foundations all over the world. In his rich home one can, even today, hear a very fine

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literary Yiddish spoken by Walter and his beautiful wife, Betty. The mother, Dinal Ethel died at a very ripe old age. May her soul rest in peace.

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“How strange!” grandma thought, as she examined the blob of deep red blood. “How many times I have lost blood these last months!” But her mind quickly turned elsewhere and she counted the births: Alex, Aaron, Louis, Max, Jack, Jennie, Sam, Abie and Pauline and she proudly remembered that she was one of the fortunate who had never lost a child, not in birthing, not in babyhood, not yet at all; “But this – losing of blood, the spitting of blood – how could she have gotten this bad sickness – consumption”? With all her intelligence, she knew there was no valid answer. Neglect? That, she had been told. But mothers have no time for themselves. She was frightened and upset. She had much to do yet and she was not the one to leave a job unfinished….

We went to grandma's house for dinner every Friday night. Excitement and preparation on Friday afternoon never palled or grew dull. I have a very retentive memory and can recall many events of these visits when I was very young. Very likely events recounted to me became realities. I can recall that grandmother was the best and most ingenious cook in the world. A “meichel” most pungent and tantalizing was the chopped eggs with onions and chicken fat oozing from it. But this was only one of the many.

My uncles were great fun – always teasing grandma to the point of distraction. After such an incident

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the boys were sorry to have caused her anxiety and tried to make up to her. Soon grandma who had a wonderful sense of humour laughed too.

Grandpa was a more austere figure. Returning from the dress factory where he was the sample maker, exhausted after his long day at work and the ride home in the crowded subway, he indulged in a bit of schnapps and a card game after dinner. He could play almost any game. “Gramps” could fix, repair, and mend almost anything imaginable. He recovered the chairs in the dining room, sewed underwear, repaired the clock, etc. Nothing proved too difficult. I learned to know him and love him dearly.

Going shopping with Grandpa on the East Side was truly an event. He bought new eyeglasses by trying on several pairs until he found a suitable one. Then came the haggling over the price followed by the usual procedure of Grandpa walking slowly away and the pushcart peddler calling him back to close the deal.

The better part of memory is that one can recall if he wishes the pleasant things. My grandmother and grandfather are real, vital, wonderful people who are ever present to me and my children. In so many ways, they have moulded me and my children and ennobled our characters. We have much to thank them for.

Grandma's character analysis and keen intuition were unusual. Her clever and caustic remarks made the undesirables keep away. She was not the best housekeeper in the world but one could rarely find a home permeated with so much devotion and love. Her children adored her and valued her wisdom and judgment. Life was an adventure to her. She was both

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modern and progressive. She was one of the first in her circle to have a telephone, a radio; to bob her hair, to dance and go to parties. However, money was a problem but she never complained. She fought dying very hard and for very long but she was lucid to the end. A great source of comfort to me is knowing that she passed on loving me as much as I loved her. When someone tells me I resemble my grandmother, I am thrilled to the core.

“Gramps” depended on grandma for more than just the usual things…she was the spark of joy in his drab work world. He mourned her deeply and silently and followed her with great suffering and great dignity within a few years. During those years, I, an adult and mother of his first grandchild, grew closer to him. He read the “Daily Forward” and formed his own clear and far-sighted opinions on important domestic and foreign issues. He delighted in literary and political discussions. We were both on a Sholem Ash project at the time.

I consider myself fortunate to have been blessed with these two wonderful grandparents. They have passed on to all their descendants those worthwhile attributes that make for ethical Jewish living… a love of life; affection for people; the ability to laugh at oneself and above all, a deep desire for learning and knowledge. Our religion is not perhaps the accepted formalized kind but we are Jews where it counts and in the way we live.

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