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When the hasidic shtibl was constructed, Pinkhas Likhtenberg began to gather a congregation for his shtibl. He did not want it to be the sort of rag-tag hasidic spot as the “big shtibl”. In the end he was surrounded by merchants in the courtyard. Even the rich, Germanic wool-spinners from Lodzsh came to him. He also did not want too much wrangling with his Germanic wife. He certainly wanted peace in the home. So, he set out a list of who should pray in his shtibl. He wrote out the list at home, in his office. The list was written in pearly, scholarly handwriting, and he placed it carefully between the covers of a Guide to the Perplexed. One must admit: Pinkhas Likhtenberg had expressed masterfulness even in that area.

Nevertheless, he had seen to it that Reb Leyvi Kahan would pray with him. With that, he wanted to snatch the rose from the “big shtibl”. With that he also kashered the shtibl in the eyes of his German wife, who was always angry at that wild notion of making a hasidic shtibl right under her nose. Publicly, before everyone's eyes, she had therefore worn her own hair as a protest. Let everyone see what she, Dobzshinski's daughter, thought of Pinkhas Likhtenberg's dark deeds. R' Leyvi Kahan wanted to make her shut

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her mouth. However, if the old Baron Hayntsl was not ashamed to be friends with Reb Leyvi, to speak with him in Yiddish and to ride with him over Pietrikov Street in the rich aristocrat's coach – why must she, Dobzshinski's daughter, not benefit from the honor if R' Leyvi Kahan was seen with her in the courtyard. Pinkhas' wife was indeed a little quieted when she heard who would be one of the first of the congregants in the shtibl. Secondly: He would let everyone hear, along with R' Leyvi himself, which shtibl Pinkhas Likhtenberg intended to make in his house. Torah and greatness in one place.

Each person whom Pinkhas chose as one of his prayers was a true attraction. And I will intentionally dwell on some of them.

For shtibl-shames he chose Naske from Goworowo. To explain who Naske was, is not one of the lighter things. And among the rare Lodzsh Jews, Naske was a rare Jew. What livelihood Naske had before he became shames in Pinkhas' shtibl is also hard to say, because Naske was the typical anarchist of any who ever lived in this world. He did not honor any order or any kind or organizing, no kind of legal community and no kind of community obligation of people to people. He was an individualist of the most extreme sort – and livelihood would certainly fit in with a community order. He chose his livelihoods according to the need of the moment. Here he was a teacher, there he threw over teaching and began carrying a can of oil around to rich people's houses, or pushing wagons across Pietrikov Street along with all the simple porters – although everyone who knew Naske, also knew what a sharp hasid and sharp scholar he was. Naske did not take anyone into account, he did not recognize any duties and any conventions around the community.

Naske himself was a tall Jew with fiery flaming red hair, with a fiery red beard and flaming red peyes, which he always had tied together under a velvet hat. No one knew why or when, Naske would suddenly stand up in the middle of the house or in a noisy street, and with rash impatience untie the peyes and let them out from under the hat. It looked like two streams of fire falling down on both sides of his face. And Naske went around for a while with his peyes unbound. People looked, but Naske did not look at people. Until he would stop still and tie the peyes back under his hat.

I believe that no person had ever seen Naske's eyes. He held them, with fierce stubbornness, heavily lowered, both when he spoke with someone and when he was walking in the street. I always wondered how Naske knew where he was going if he did not look and walked with his eyes lowered. Looking at someone, like looking around oneself, is a kind of partnership with someone. And that was something he did not do. Even

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his language was different. He spoke his own dialect, and pronounced the Yiddish words in his bizarre way. Because language is a specific commonality among people, Naske did not accept that. Naske spoke in his own Naskish language and one had to know him well in order to understand him. For example, he did not say “shoyfer” but “sheyfer”; not “yoytse zayn” but “yeytse zayn”. Every Yiddish word sounded different from Naske's mouth. A true anarchist.

Thus, Naske had never succeeded in traveling out of Lodzsh, although he had several times chosen to travel to his hometown of Goworowo. Why he suddenly needed, out of the clear blue sky, to travel there no one knew. He only said, “I'm going to Goworowo”. But he never did manage to go. Because Naske was never able to believe that the train really left from Lodzsh on a regular schedule, and it did indeed keep to its schedule. That kind of regulation that was under this nose and in relation to his trip to Goworowo, would be absolutely contradictory to Naske's spirit. When people told him that the train left, for example, from Lodzsh at ten minutes after four o'clock. Naske, in his great surprise, untied his flaming red peyes from under his hat and they fell around his cheeks. He looked sharply at the floor through his lowered eyes and finally arrived at the train two hours later. And he was still surprised that the train had actually left according to the schedule. What a crazy world! Nevertheless, Naske believed that what happened today was just a wild chance, that the train left according to the schedule. Tomorrow it would surely leave anytime it felt like it. Naske arrived again three hours after the scheduled time. That way, he was expressing his trust that the train was not crazy and went in his Naskish manner. When, in his disappointment with the train he repeated this for several more days and Naske saw that the train was not making a joke with the schedule, Naske reconsidered: he would not go the Goworowo after all.

That was the kind of Jew that Pinkhas Likhtenberg had chosen for a shames in his shtibl. When everyone asked him, how is it possible that such a strange wild-man was to operate the shtibl's accounts, sell aliyes and in general run the economy of the shtibl, Pinkhas smiled quietly and said that it would soon be fine – how would it be fine? Already in the first weeks of his job Naske demonstrated his anarchism, and did so with none other than the powerful tsarist government, in this way: Pinkhas had installed gas lighting in his shtibl. When the first bill arrived to pay for the gas, Naske did not believe that the state gas facility meant it for real. He did not believe in paying bills. Naske threw the official gas bill into the trash. Eventually the last deadline came – the gas facility sent an

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official, who turned off the gas meter and hung a lead seal bearing a Russian eagle from it. A fine threat to Naske Goworowo! When twilight came and they needed to light the gas lamps in the shtibl, Naske did not make any long evasions. Before everyone's eyes, he went to the gas meter, ripped off the government lead seal and opened the meter again. The Jews shouted that not only would Naske go away in chains for that, but that Pinkhas Likhtenberg would be dragged off to prison with him. Naske did not respond.

In passing, I want to add: In Goworowo, in 1918 when the Germans suffered a defeat in the First World War and the population in all the Polish towns disarmed the German military – Naske suddenly ran out of the shtibl and into Pietrikov Street. He let loose in his red peyes and with his eyes lowered ran up to a German soldier. The German was shocked and handed his rifle over to Naske. Naske went back into the shtibl and placed the German rifle near the holy Ark.

[from the book “Poylin”, Volume 3]

Orignal footnote:

1. Naske Kats, the old Brilant's son-in-law. Return

The sources for books in town were exclusively at the party-associated libraries: the General Zionist Organization's “Tekhiye”, the “Poaley tsion” Zionist Socialists' named for Brener, the “Bund” named for Perets, and others. There were also some who “subscribed” to books directly from the Warsaw publishers. But there was also a bookstore in town, which was owned by Meyshe Yehoshe Ginzburg. In truth, it was not a bookstore in the full sense of the word, but one could find quite a good assortment with him. It was not a front-business with shelves of sorted books, just a private residence where the books were the books were strewn in dozens of places. It was a symbol of disorder there. It was also no wonder: Reb Meyshe Yehoshe was already an old man and not having a wife, he had to all the household work as well; so, he could not always manage it all.

Reb Meyshe Yehoshe was a great scholar and a lover of books. Usually, he sat and consulted a holy book and it was hard for him to tear himself away from it. He did not begin to do anything in the house until he had finished with the book.

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So he sat, either by himself in a room or in the hours of prayer in the shul – always bent over a book, squinting his left eye and not seeing what went on around him. He swam with his whole being in the secret worlds. He was an expert in the entire Talmud and Commentators and also loved to read the Hebrew “secular” press. When Reb Meyshe Yehoshe came into the shul, even the Rov stood up for him. If someone needed to ask a legal question, or lay out a negotiation, they turned to him. He did not need to think, quickly gave an answer, not once taking his eyes off the book.

He was a very old man, but he did not yet wear glasses. His shoulders were already hunched from always sitting bent over books. He lived on the “broad” street, across from the town Rov, in one room. In one corner stood a wooden bed which was hardly ever made up and in the other corner was the kitchen, with utensils around it. Books, holy books mixed up the novels, lay about everywhere: on the bed, on the table, on the chairs and even on the floor. When someone came in to buy a book, it was also hard for him to tear himself away for the book and talk with the customer. He gave the impression that he would rather get rid of the customer and get back to his book. So, people did not like to buy books from him. It was difficult to discuss matters with him and to consult with him about what book to select. Mostly the customer himself had to take the trouble to look over all the books as they were, scattered about, until he found something.

I bought my first books from him, picking them out myself. I had to opportunity to look around and to familiarize myself with more books. My being in his room for hours did not disturb him at all; I did not need to pull him from his occupation. Overall, he did not see me at all.

His son Binyumin, already an adult man, was the first intellectual in town; it was the custom of the youth, even before the rise of the political movements among us. He was a person of high education who brought the Zionist thought into Goworowo. He frequently gave lectures, and he educated a generation of party leaders.

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Every Jewish community in Poland wanted to be able to boast such a respected proprietor as was Reb Avrom Mordkhe Fridman of blessed memory. A distinguished scholar in the full sense of the word, a clever man in many areas; people asked his advice in the most complicated business matters and in personal problems; a leader in supporting the Jewish community as well as a wealthy man who came to it through his extraordinary honesty. He was the synonym of the honest merchant. His word was holy, both for Jews and for the goyim. Jews treasured him and goyim thought more highly of him than their own priests. One could say of him that his house was “a place of Torah and greatness in one place” and even if he had lived in Warsaw, he would also have been reckoned among the finest and most prominent proprietors in that great capitol city.

As the Talmud says in verse Eyzer kenagdu, “============ etc. Reb Avrom Mordkhe did indeed merit and his wife Reytse was also distinguished with virtues and good qualities and was much beloved in the town for her good heartedness and love of people. He was a member of the local council for a time, and she sought to help orphans and widows; he gave to charity and to community work, and she gave many anonymous gifts and other social aid. Indeed, their house was a meeting-place, and the town was proud of them.

Reb Avrom Mordkhe was born in Goworowo in 1860 to his parents Shabsay Dovid and Khaye Ester, who operated a manufacturing business in the town. He studied in the town study-house, and clung to the Sokhstshove rebi, the “avni nazir”, from whom he received his “model” of learning. He married his wife Reytse, the daughter of Yitskhak Dovid and Rive Openheym, owners of a restaurant in Tshekhonov.

After the wedding Reb Avrom Mordkhe took over his father's manufacturing business, which brought him large profits. His wife Reytse devoted herself to the business while he studied Torah or did deeds of charity. He was a passionate hasid and often traveled to the rebis of Novominsk, Parisov, Sokhotshev, and finally, to the Ger Rebi, Rov Avrom Mordkhe'le Alter may his memory be for a blessing. He was an avid follower of the Agudas Yisroel Party and supported all their activities.

Reb Avrom Mordkhe passed on in 1930 in Goworowo, and his wife Reytse further maintained the business along with her son Henekh.

The wife Reytse was murdered along with her sons Elkhonen and Henekh and their wives and children, in Slonim, by the murderous hands of the Nazis.

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My father R' Khayim Malkiel stemmed from an aristocratic family in Lomzshe. The first rabbi in Lomzshe, the well-known saint Rov Zalmele Hasid, was his great-grandfather. My father's father, Rov Eliahu, was reared in Stalptse. He studied in the big yeshives and was known as a scholar, and he was also very talented musically. In his youth he sang in the choir of the famous composer Nisn Belzer. After his marriage to my grandmother Gite Sheynkop, he became cantor and ritual slaughterer in Sokhotshin, near Plonsk. My grandfather, however, did not remain in a community post his whole life, but returned to Lomzshe, opened a food store, and drew his living from that.

All his children possessed native talents for music, and my grandfather educated them further and taught them singing and composition. His son Menakhem was cantor-ritual slaughterer in Sarotsk and in Kreve. He sang in a fine baritone and was also capable of learning. The second son Yankev Kopl was a genius in his youth. He was ordained at 18 years of age from “Hofets Khayim”. In his youth he inspired wonder with his singing. He sang in the largest shuls, standing on a bench because he could not reach the cantor's stand. He also did not want to stay in the small town as a cantor. He became a Hebrew teacher in a Lomzshe middle-school. Later he went off to America and became a lecturer in a rabbinical seminary. The younger son Meyshe was a phenomenal singer. He spent a lot of time at home with my father. For the holidays he would come to us in Goworowo to help my father with the services. He married a Goworowo girl, Rokhl, a daughter of Yisroel Leyzer Zamlson. For several years after the wedding he lived in Goworowo and tutored a youth choir. He prayed the high holidays in a Lomzshe shul. He and his whole family were murdered in the Holocaust in Lomzshe.

Their younger son Shleyme was also a beautiful singer. He would sing with my father in Goworowo and later, in Vishkove. Today he is in America.

But the most talented singer of all the brothers was the first-born, my father Khayim Malkiel of blessed memory. My grandmother used to say that even as a child in the cradle his little voice sounded so sweet, that they soon recognised that he would grow up to be a great cantor. His voice was wonderful, his coloratura and feeling literally enchanted people. When he sang for the cantors Nisn Blumental and Pinkhas Minkovski in Odessa, they were inspired by his

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talent. Even gentiles came to shul to hear him sing. When he was cantor in Makove there was a separate gallery for the gentiles of the high-ranking “natshalstva” circles, who came to shul and waited through all the prayers until he would sing.

Khayim Malkiel Brukhansky of blessed memory

He himself authored many compositions and many hasidic nigunim which he sang at the tables of the Ger Rebi.

In his youth he studied in the Mir Yeshive. After his marriage to my mother Rokhl Leye, he took on his first post as cantor-ritual slaughterer in Seratsk near Warsaw. He did not make much of a living there, and after a year went

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to Novidvor and from there to Makove. He was cantor-ritual slaughterer there for six years and always took care that the essence and the flavor of the prayers be at the appropriate level. He was meticulous in that area. Recognizing that the Makove Rov, Yisroel Nisn Kupershtokh, was also an extraordinary master of prayer, my father particularly helped him in “Neile”, when the Rov prayed in the famous Makove shul. But he did not make a living there either and remained a pauper.

Then the Goworowo householders Mayer Romaner and Shayke Hertsberg, whose families stemmed from Makove, proposed that he be cantor-slaughterer in Goworowo. They promised him the best conditions and a large sum of money to pay his debts.

For parshas sheklim 1911, my farther traveled to Goworowo with a choir of 12 persons, in which his two brothers Menakhem and Meyshe also took part. He prayed the Shabes prayers so beautifully that the Goworowo Jews were ecstatic. They decided to hire him at any price. Soon after that Shabes, a delegation of Goworowo householders headed by Dovid Liver to represent the working people and artisans came to Makove with a purse of money. Father accepted the post.

In Goworowo we first lived in a three-room apartment in Dovid Liver's building, until we were well oriented. The love of the Goworowo Jews for us was indescribable. Every night in our house was like a joyful holiday. On Shabes and actual holidays it was even more joyous. All the householders, hasidim and “enlighteners”, came to us to rejoice and drink a little whisky. Our house was full of song. The cantor flowed together with the town as one body. Everyone sang along with father's “little pieces”. “Ha'ben Yakir li Efroym”, “Ha'teoreru”, “Kaboros” and a bit of “V'hu yasmieynu” were the most valuable merchandise in town. Several youths and boys from Makove who were studying singing and ritual slaughtering with my father also came with him, and were literally snatched up by the householders, such as Gavriel Yalovitsh, Avrom Mordkhe Fridman, Itshe Mayer Fridman and others. Especially noted were the boys Binyumin Mundzak with his lovely solos; Hersh Leybl Shtern from Ostrolenke, a brother of the poet Yisroel Shtern; Meyshe Binyumin Rzshepka, a yeshive man who had a beautiful bass-baritone voice and was a good soloist. From Goworowo itself were Henekh, a relative of Yehoshe Rozen, a good soprano who later moved to America; Yisroel Niks, a soprano; Leyb Hersh Fleysher the cap-maker and Khayim Leyb Proske's son-in-law, a tenor; two brothers from the Lis family, tenor and baritone; Khonen Vaysbord, a baritone, and later, Avrom Holtzman, Motl Lerman and others.

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For the Days of Awe my uncle Meyshe also came, and it was a full ensemble, which enchanted the congregation. Even hasidim in the shtiblekh hurried to finish their prayers in order to catch a few tones from my father.

It was a tradition in Goworowo that the cantor make a feast for the proprietors of the study-house after Shabes, after slikhes. But for my father the hasidim did not want to miss the pleasure and they also came. A big dispute grew out of that. Reb Dovid was alarmed: “You have the little reflectors! Soon they will take our cantor from us, too!” My father smoothed it over, and then there was peace.

At that time the old Rov Kahana-Botshan of blessed memory, was still alive. He only studied Torah and did not mix into any community matters. My father had to fill a double function – to represent the Rov in all matters. Livelihood was abundant and usually happy and cheerful.

The gentile population in Goworowo also valued my father very much. When, during the First World War, the Rov and the proprietors were arrested for the accusation of the “eruv-telephone” case, they treated my father with respect. The police commandant was passing the house and said, “This is where our beloved “shpievik” and “zsheshek” lives.” Because of that many people staying at our house were saved.

It was during that time that the local council introduced the oversight of shkhite [ritual slaughter of animals for food] because of the money involved and the hygiene. So the police always kept the sheykhet's slaughtering knife, and gave it back only for a slaughtering in their presence. Of course, the sheykhet had another knife for slaughtering whenever he wanted or if someone needed it, without the knowledge of the police. But the commandant had a good excuse to look in on us, drink a little glass of whisky with snacks, and visit a little with my father.

Although my father was a staunch Ger hasid, he still loved Erets Yisroel very much. He collected money for the emissaries from the yeshives in Erets Yisroel and he took the Zionist youth under his wing. The town Zionist leaders Binyumin Ginsburg, Yekhiel Pshisusker, Shmuel Fridman, Dovid Fridman and Khonen Vaysbord often came to him to hear his songs of Israel.

My father found it very stimulating to hear the Torah read by a good and exacting Torah reader. Thus, he went to hear R' Yekl Klepfish read. That was a real Shabes pleasure for him. For shofar blower my father always chose Khayim Ber Grudke (later my father-in-law) who was a good blower. He was also very pleased with Menashe Holtsman's morning-prayers during the Days of Awe. He used to say that Menashe Holtsman prayed well at the stand and could adjust the prayers. For the third meal of Shabes all the musicians gathered at the Rov's house and sang zmiros together.

Those were good years in Goworowo. The idyll did not last long, before the town was burned and ruined in the First World War.

Even after that, when the town began to be rebuilt, there was no livelihood for my father. With a heavy heart, he had to leave there and take over a post in Zakrotshim. In 1921 he came to Vishkove as cantor-ritual slaughterer. Here my father had the opportunity to conduct his cantoring on a larger scale. My brother Hersh Yosef and I assisted him in his work. My brother was also a ritual slaughterer. And my sister Brayne Dvore and her husband Mikhael Brame were musical.

All this ended with the great destruction of Polish Jewry by Hitler. My father had the merit to die in his own bed, in the Lomzshe hospital, on the 18^th of Shevet in 1940. He was buried in the Lomzshe cemetery near the grave of the Rov. My whole family – mother, brother and sister with her husband and two children, were murdered as kidush-ha'shem martyrs in Slonim.

May God avenge their blood.

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