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[Columns 317-318]
by Klara Shoshani, Ashdot Ya'akov, Israel
Translated by Yael Chaver
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I've been in this country for almost nine years now.[1] I've attained the goal for which I've strived my entire life.
This achievement was not easy. The road was paved with misery and suffering: World War II. There were times when I was deep in despair and lost all hope. Then I suddenly discovered an inner strength:
Be strong, have patience, and all will pass, you will achieve your goal. I would swallow my tears with my last strength. Choking on them, I would go on wrestling with destiny.
I was born in 1917 in Horodło, a small town near Hrubieszow. I lost my parents at a very young age, and never even knew them. I was alone in the world, utterly forlorn. My life was a continuation of my birthday, in other words a constant battle for existence.
I have an indelible memory of a poor old woman called Feyge Leye. She took me in and gave me a corner with a cot, where I slept. The kind, destitute old woman would beg for bits of bread every Friday, and put them in a drawer near my cot; this was my food for the entire week. This led to the development of scrofula[2]. Compassionate people then made efforts to send me to a foster home in Hrubieszow.
I remember the first day, when I was brought to the Roytman family in Hrubieszow; they were supposed to take me to the orphanage. I will never forget how kindly and graciously Sorele and Zishe Roytman greeted me. Sorele appeared before me, like a good angel. She bathed and shampooed me, gave me fresh linen, helped me to eat, and tucked me into a clean, neat bed. I remember as if it was today: as I was lying in the bed, it seemed that I was the luckiest person in the world. I wanted the night to go on forever, and the happiness to stay with me. A few days later, Sorele Roytman brought me to my new home, the orphanage.
This was the start of a new life. We were 24 boys and girls. Our supervisor, Khane Vayner, treated us like a mother would, although her own daughter and three sons were among us. There were younger and older children. We, the younger ones, had great respect for the older ones.
The orphanage administration consisted of the following people: Tenenboym, Azriel Finkelshteyn, Sorele and Zishe Roytman, Yekhi'el Fayer, and Yankev Naymark. It is difficult to grasp the devotion of Yekhi'el Fayer and Yankev Naymark (may their memories be for a blessing). Though they were young men, they devoted all their free time to us.
We regarded Yekhi'el Fayer as a dedicated older brother. Ayzenberg, the teacher, hardly ever left the orphanage. Along with Rokhl Efron, the teacher, he raised us with love and sincerity. He loved each child.
The Passover Seders, led by Mr. Tenenboym, are engraved in my memory. Like a good father, he would celebrate the Seder late into the night. We were like his own children.
After a time, everything changed. Yekhi'el Fayer and the teacher Ayzenberg emigrated to the Land of Israel, and the older children left for Warsaw and Piotrków, to learn trades. Then Tenenboym also emigrated to the Land of Israel. Khane Vayner left her job. In this way, everything gradually changed. The administration changed: the new chairman was Fishl Zilbershteyn, who was devoted to the children; but it all affected our life in the home to which we had become accustomed.
Now a sudden crisis occurred in our lives. Unfortunately, it went unnoticed, and without a thought as to what was happening in our small hearts. This is what happened. The previous members of the board were Zionists. We had received a Zionist upbringing, in the synagogue as well as in the orphanage. All the children, including me, were members of HaShomer HaTza'ir.[3] Suddenly, an order came from Fishl Zilbershteyn: we could not join any youth organization. We were taken out of our school and transferred to the Polish, anti-Semitic school. This crisis affected us powerfully.
We were used to a warm school environment and friendliness on the part of the teacher. Now, we were suddenly confronted with hate on the part of the Polish children as well as the teacher. It caused us much suffering. However, as we were now older, we tackled it courageously and decided to oppose attending the Polish school. And in fact, a year later we were once again enrolled in the Tel Chai school. We also continued to go to HaShomer HaTza'ir. Fishl Zilbershteyn came to the conclusion that opposition was pointless, and he withdrew his ban.
Yankev Naymark and Fishl Zilbershteyn were very devoted to us. They always found the time to come and visit us. But apparently this was not enough. We lacked a friend who could understand us. Then the teacher Meytshe became interested in us, took us under his wing, and gave us the warmth we needed. Meytshe became the only friend in whom we could trust and who gave us comfort. The feeling that he understood us deeply was enough to provide consolation.
The orphanage grounds were also the site of the Jewish hospital and the old-age home. Hersh-Me'ir Rayss worked in the hospital as a medical practitioner. He was a fine person, who was very experienced in his field. More than once, he substituted for the doctor and saved lives. He helped us a great deal. I remember how, when all the children were stupefied by fumes in the middle of the night, and many friends from the town came to rescue us,
[Columns 319-320]
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Top row: Sonia Krongold, Khay'ke Beker, Rivke Roytman, Feygele Zilberberg, Felia Shtikh, Hinde Finkelshteyn-Volfenfeld, Khane Fayer, Hudi Glazberg, Malke Fraynd Second row: Rivke Meyl, Mani Finkelshteyn, Fani Rapoport, Felia Lerer-Ratnievski, Sore Roytman, Ahrtshe Rapoport, Yankev Naymark, Menukha Morgenshtern, Gunye Rapoport, Felia Lederkremer, and Motl Verthaym Third row, seated: Vaksman, Fradl Blumental-Halbershteyn, Perl Morgenshtern-Biterman, Brokhe Yungman, Sheyndl Sore Naymark-Goldshteyn, Azri'el Finkelshteyn, Dovid Tenenboym, Azri'el Brand, Martshe Shtikh, Bine Rapoport, Hodl Verthaym, Esterl Lerner Fourth row: Gutshe Vayner, Fishl Dikhterman, Tuvya Vayner, Khayim Trager, Yisro'el Eng, Teacher Rokhl Efron, Abish Mints, Dovid Goldman, Perle Ayz, Mendel Meyterman, Shmerl Mints Fifth row: Keyle Rozenberg, Rokhele Vasing, Leytshe Boden, Motl Klerer, Brokhe Hay, Mendl Vayner Bottom: Yosele Shtern and Tsharne Shtern |
Hersh-Me'ir appeared like a kind angel. He worked all night, and saved all the children. The next morning, people joked that Hersh Pletsele, the gravedigger, was standing underneath the window and waiting for work.
The old-age quarters were in a dark, gloomy corner. Apparently, the community's support was not sufficient for the old folks; they would trudge along the streets all day, begging for charity. Those who were unable to walk lay in their dirty, dark beds, waiting to die. One of the women who was tall, not very old, and wore a big hat, roamed the courtyard constantly, mainly at night. She was called ‘the foundation’. No one knew where she came from or who she was. We were terrified of her, especially at night.
When we grew older, we began to understand that she was an unhappy woman who had suffered a great tragedy and was affected by it. Some time later, she vanished. Just as no one knew where she had come from, no one now knew where she had gone.
Later, the teacher Franca Oksenhendler, from Korczak's institution,[4] arrived. We loved this good teacher, because she understood us. During this period, we were also taught by Argon, a pleasant and lovable person, who taught religion in the Polish school and taught us Hebrew literature.
The material circumstances of our institution were never good. The city provided a small subsidy, and the property owners of the town supplied the rest. Hrubieszow was a poor town, and the support was quite meager.
From time to time, a fund-raising day, or a ball, would be organized for the orphanage. However, these efforts did not yield much, and continuing our studies was out of the question. Previously, the older children would be sent to Warsaw or Piotrków to learn a trade. But we now had to make our own way. They did send us to local artisans, such as shoemakers or tailors, but only for the sake of appearances; the artisans were not too interested in teaching us their trade. First, we had to run errands for a year; only afterwards could we start earning money.
When I turned 15, I went to Krynica, where an aunt of mine lived; I had never heard of her.
Translator's Footnotes:
by Yekhiel Fayer
Translated by Yael Chaver
On Sunday, December 28, 1930, a general meeting of the Hrubieszow orphanage committee members took place. When sufficient members were present, the chairman, Fishl Zilbershteyn, opened the meeting. Shmuel Brand was elected to chair the meeting, he selected Mr. Benkel as secretary, and Dr. Lifshitz and Dr. Fridman were selected as assessors.
After the treasury report was read, the discussion began. A few members emphasized that the efforts of the committee towards the material well being of the institution were laudable. However, there was much work yet to be done in the sphere of education.
Chairman Zilbershteyn stated that the committee had devoted much thought to education, but had not supplied the proper funds. A recess of ten minutes was called. Following that, the list of members of the previous committee was introduced. The following persons now constituted the committee:
Sima Regl | A. Finkelshteyn |
Rivke Verthaym | Dr. Lifshits |
Brokhe Yungman | Dr. Royter |
Sore Goldshteyn | Y. M. Sher |
Tsipora Regl | Y. Naymark |
P. Varman | Z. Roytman |
M. Zilbershteyn | S. Argon |
Candidates: | |
Me'ir Regel | Y. Hekht |
Mrs. Ginzburg | Y. Shpile |
G. Valdman | Y. Verk |
Review Committee: | |
Ber Rot | |
M. Rozenshteyn | |
Z. Brant |
Hrubieszower Lebn, No. 2, January 1931
Concert to Benefit the Orphanage
On Tuesday, the tenth, a performance of the local mandolin orchestra (led by M. Gertl), accompanied by a piano, was held in the Spoldrzeltszi House, thanks to T. Rapoport.[1]
Simultaneously, the orphanage children presented a few lovely theatrical scenes before a full hall; these left a strong impression on the audience, and evoked sustained applause.
And truly, besides the fact that the concert may be considered a great success considering that the performers were amateurs the pluck of the orphans was remarkable. They moved freely during the performance, and played their roles expertly. It was difficult to imagine what would have become of the destitute orphans without the worthy efforts of the committee members, who are working tirelessly to elevate the institution to a proper standard.
Let us send them our hearty congratulations.
Hrubieszower Lebn, No. 8, 1931
Orphanage Treasury Report, 7-1-1929 12-1-1929
Income | Złoty |
Member payments | 2,072.30 |
Town subsidy | 16,118.75 |
Sejm remainder from 1928[2] | 120.00 |
Jewish community | 2,129.50 |
Ts. K. in Warsaw[3] | 411.80 |
Donations | 2,612.35 |
Projects | 536.40 |
Various income | 1,420.36 |
Deficit as of 12-1-1930 | 2,305.01 |
Total | 27,766.47 |
Expenses | |
Food | 9,945.17 |
Medical services | 153.57 |
Various educational and school equipment | 1,175.35 |
Vocational training | 360.00 |
Clothing | 3,074.90 |
Summer camps | 1,298.88 |
Remodeling (adding a new building) | 3,173.27 |
Inventory | 1,726.25 |
Contributions to workers' pension fund | 1,605.00 |
Heat and light | 1,779.11 |
Various expenses | 1,780.51 |
Deficit as of 6-30-1929 | 1,694.46 |
Total | 27,766.47 |
Chairman: Zilbershteyn | |
Treasurer: Azri'el Finkelshteyn | |
Secretary: Yankev Naymark | |
Hrubieszower Lebn, No. 1, January 1931 |
A Fine Act on the Part of the People's Fund
The committee of the local Free Loan Society is overwhelmed with requests from Jews who were quite well-off not long ago and now request charity of 50-100 złoty. However, the limited means of the Society do not make it possible to respond to all these requests.
In this connection, the committee of the People's Fund (headed by Mr. Shapiro) decided to respond to the Free Loan Society's request, and grant it a permanent credit of 700 złoty naturally, in return for adequate guarantees.
It would be fair if the other local banks, as well as private persons, would grant the Free Loan Society regular credit, so that it could meet the needs of all those in need who turn to it for charity.
Translator's Footnotes:
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Standing: Itshe Bodenshteyn, Gershn Ayzen, Noyekh Fayfer, Yissokher Laks, Yisro'el Tsigel, Moyshe Beker, and Fishl Eydlshteyn Seated: Peretz Shturm. Leybl Tsederboym, Ber Migdal, Ber Bukhtreger, Mote Tsimet, and Dovid Tzukerman |
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by Eliezer Arn Zamer, San Jose, Costa Rica
Translated by Yael Chaver
At first, only individuals were involved with this institution; they would roam the town and gather bread. No one except the collectors was allowed to know the identities of the secret beneficiaries. One of the main gatherers was a tall man, who wore an over-long khalat, his face reddened and burned by sun and wind.[2] Physically imposing, like an incarnation of the legendary Hercules, he was a legend in his own right. He was almost the only person in the town who was beardless - not because he wanted to flout the biblical command, but because his face was hairless.[3]
He walked around with a sack and collected whole loaves of bread or challah left over from the housewives' pre-Shabbat baking; never fragments. My people, he would say, also need to say the blessing over whole challah on Friday evenings. When he realized that he had overlooked some who also needed bread, he added two more men as helpers. As they realized they could not satisfy the need, they gathered several more people.
Later, when Grabski's hearse started making the rounds and took away the Jews' last household belongings as taxes, there were many who needed bread.[4] The people involved in bread collection realized that more organized and comprehensive aid was needed, and they founded the Hrubieszow Food Pantry.
The institution flourished even more in the 1930s, when the official anti-Jewish policy came into effect. At that point, the Food Pantry did not limit itself to gathering food, but also collected money.
Its last activities were in the ghetto, when everyone needed help, and bread, and all were beggars. But the Food Pantry collapsed before the murder of the Jewish community in Hrubieszow.
Open your hands, ye generous-hearted sons of compassionate people,[5] And make a large donation to ‘Beit-Lechem,’ God will reward you in all your affairs, God will console you soon, a twice-fold consolation From the Consoler of Zion and the Builder of Jerusalem.
Brothers: it is your duty today to remember the Hrubieszow ‘Beit-Lechem’ |
Translator's Footnotes:
by Yankl Saler, Melbourne, Australia
Translated by Yael Chaver
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Following World War I, the town was in great need - we had just gone through hard times. During the war, the town billeted soldiers from the armies of Russia, Austro-Hungary, Germany, Poland, and the USSR.
In 1922, Pinkhes Saler, Hershl Sher, Yisro'el Shpiler, Mendl Karp, and Dovid Zilbershteyn assembled in Pinkhes Saler's workshop at 21 Novy Rynek. They decided to create a Fund to Support the Fallen for those in need. Each of the founders contributed a small sum, and promised to contribute 20 groschen each month. The committee selected consisted of Pinkhes Saler, chairman; Hershl Sher, secretary; Mendl Karp, treasurer; Dovid Zilberberg, and Yisro'el Shpiler. The first committee also included Shloyme Royter and Eliyohu Raab.
They began collecting funds for weddings, family celebrations, and other projects. The contribution for each needy person was 5 złoty. The numbers of donors as well as beneficiaries increased over time.
In 1924, the committee resolved to turn the Fund to Support the Fallen into a loan society. 120 people came to that meeting. 500 złoty were collected, and the loan society was officially registered.
Those in need began turning to the society for loans. Some needed to maintain their workshops or shops, others needed money for firewood, matza for Passover, a physician, and even for tax payments. The loan amount was 50 złoty, interest-free, with a monthly repayment of 5 złoty. Almost everyone returned the loans, with an additional small payment to the Fund. In the winter, the Fund would send firewood and potatoes to the poor, and aid to celebrate weddings.
Naturally, the committee donated its time and labor, and the members received no salaries. Over time, difficulties arose. More people did not pay their debt, either because they could not or they did not want to. The situation in the 1930s was dire, as the economy worsened. The Fund received less and less money, and eventually the management decided to liquidate it in 1937. The last funds were used to purchase firewood and distribute it among the needy.
The Fund was active for 15 years.
I received this information from the founder, Pinkhes Saler.
It's High Time
It would be redundant to announce the urgency of a winter drive to benefit the impoverished Jewish population. It would be even more redundant to declare that hundreds of Jewish families in our town are needy all year round, and doubly miserable in winter in the dreadful cold, with no firewood to warm their freezing bodies in their crowded, damp cellars and attic rooms. We do not need to describe the dreadful situation of these forlorn souls in its true dimensions. Every year, such a drive takes place in the town, and offers support to many despairing families.
The local community activists need to carry out this drive as soon as possible. They should start collecting from the local Jewish residents, and make sure that the support arrives in good time. May those in need make proper use of it.
Many towns organize cheap food kitchens in winter. They offer indigent and unemployed people some cooked food, and places where they can receive free tea and bread. It's high time that we, too, set up such a kitchen, as we certainly don't lack people who would greatly benefit from it.
The community must not keep its distance. Many Jewish communities in Poland participate in such winter drives. Our community must not be an exception.
The community must implement this drive, as it is high time.
Hrubieszower Lebn, No. 52, December 1930.
Translator's Footnote:
by Eliyahu Gertl, Ramat Yokhanan
Translated by Yael Chaver
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As I come to write about the Brenner library in Hrubieszow, I recall the readers who used it. I imagine teenage girls, modestly dressed, and with bashful expressions, as befits traditionally raised Jewish girls. I see teenage boys, wearing Hasidic dress and black hats, who walk slowly and defer to religious authority. There is no difference in appearance between these decent youths and their parents shopkeepers, peddlers, and middlemen whose lives moved between the residence, the shop, and the synagogue. For the most part, the young generation followed this trajectory, but they began feeling the need to break out of their rigid, closed lives, and strove to create a new way of life.
The first steps of these young folks led to the Brenner library of Tze'irey Tziyon, which began to broaden their horizons and educate them in new ways.[2] We would walk out of the library, hiding the small secular book under our traditional long coats, so that people wouldn't think we were straying from the religious path.
The library comprised many books, most in Yiddish and some in Hebrew. We read a book as though we were studying Talmud, seriously and thoroughly, trying to understand the writer's mind while delineating the characters. A good book was a topic of debate, to better understand the content.
The library was where we first became acquainted with the cute girls of Hrubieszow. A girl would look down toward the floor during the first conversation, as though she were misbehaving. But over time we came to know each other and became friends, and the conversations flowed openly and easily.
In the evenings, we boys and girls would stroll along spacious Panska Street. Later, we began to hire boats and row on the river that encircled the town. We practiced using the oars, had competitions, grew tired, and had fun. On Saturdays, we would visit the nearby village of Brodzica and drink cold cream, then walk out to the woods, stretch out in pairs under the aromatic pine trees, and pass the time chatting.
The library taught us about friendship and loyalty, but we had no part in its administration. It was owned by Tze'irey Tziyon. The party committee ran the library, whereas we, the readers, were mostly members of Po'aley Tziyon[3]. As far as the library's work was concerned, we were completely inactive. The Tze'irey Tziyon committee was busy with party affairs, and had no time for extensive cultural activities. We were pained to follow the cultural work of the library in nearby Zamość. When Yosef Opatoshu's Poylishe Velder or Sholem Asch's Dos Shtetl were published, Zamość organized a literary evening.[4] Well-known authors were invited to speak. These activities were at the initiative of the readers' committee that managed the library. The Hrubieszow library was run solely by the Tze'irey Tziyon committee, that provided very little cultural content. We felt that we needed to change this situation, and presented a letter to the committee, signed by hundreds of readers, demanding that a general meeting be convened.
This meeting, in which the Tze'irey Tziyon committee participated, resolved to elect a library committee that would include representatives of Tze'irey Tziyon as well as three representatives of the readers. This took place in 1924, and that is when our cultural activity began.
Our representatives took upon themselves the role of librarians, following the resignation of Sore Hey (may her memory be for a blessing), who received compensation. Our new librarians usually suggested books according to the reader's age and educational level. At first, there were readers who considered this an interference with, and restriction of, individual rights, but with time this new custom was accepted and appreciated.
We were helped in this work by the Hebrew teacher in the HaTikvah school, Comrade Ayzenberg-Eshed (now living in Kibbutz En Harod, Israel). Occasionally, we held literary evenings, question-and-answer sessions, or parties; all income was dedicated to the library. We were in touch with the Association of Jewish Writers in Warsaw, and a Jewish author would often come to hold a lecture. The lectures were held in the Hall of Reflection. The Jews of Hrubieszow were very interested in hearing a talk by a famous Jewish writer, and the hall was always packed.
I vividly remember the visit of the writer Yoysef Opatoshu. When he arrived by train, we greeted him with flowers and a warm welcome, and he was quite moved. The hall overflowed, and many had to listen at the windows and the open doors.
We started a dramatic club, led by Meytshe Hofman (now in Kibbutz Shefayim). The club performed Sholem Aleichem's The Jackpot, with great success; the income was given to the school and the library.[5]
The library expanded. We purchased every new Yiddish or Hebrew book, and as a result the readership also expanded. People could borrow books three times a week, for minimal payment. Most of our income was from special projects such as literary evenings, parties, theatrical shows, and the like. All the work, including book-lending, was done by us voluntarily. The Bund's library functioned similarly; the main force behind it was the well-known community activist and volunteer Yitzkhok Shimen Fayfer (may his memory be for a blessing).[6]
In 1920, the library moved to a spacious three-room location. We established a free reading room, which was full of youthful readers every evening, Many boys and girls were apprentices with tailors and carpenters; many were poor and lived in freezing, rundown homes whose damaged roofs leaked in winter. They enjoyed sitting in a warm, brightly lit room and reading a Yiddish newspaper, learning much in the process.
After the merger of Tzei'rey Tziyon and Po'aley Tziyon, the united party was occupied with cultural activities, which were held in the library, in coordination with the library's work.[7] We took over the HaTikva school, and changed its name to Tel Chai. The school's teachers agreed to help us with cultural activities. A literary lecture was held almost every Saturday. We also contacted the YIVO center in Vilnius, donated folkloric materials, and gave it some financial support.[8]
The young Jews of Hrubieszow were devoted and enterprising, intellectually honest, and innovative. Their organizational and cultural achievements were impressive, but their economic situation was dire. The Polish economic boycott, on the part of the population as well as the government, limited Jewish youth to a small selection of outdated livelihoods (shop-keeping, peddling, small middlemen, etc.).[9] The Jewish artisans tried to compete against Polish factories, which flooded the market with inexpensive goods. Young Jews realized that there was no economic basis to enable continued living in the country, and that they would sooner or later have to leave everything behind and move far away.
Our young men sat in the library and mulled about their destination. Where should they go? Which country would offer work and refuge to a young Jewish migrant? They did not all reach the same conclusion. Some young people joined HeHalutz, went to training camps, and emigrated to the Land of Israel.[10] Others wandered as far afield as Argentina, Brazil, and Australia. But most of the young people lacked the means to emigrate. They stayed in Hrubieszow, and were murdered by the Nazi enemy.
Let these pages serve as a modest memorial to the memory of our dear martyrs.
Translator's Footnotes:
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by Eliyohu Gertl, Ramat Yokhanan, Israel
Translated by Yael Chaver
If we try to evaluate our contribution to cultural matters, we must not ignore the important institution of YIVO. Before describing our activities, let me address the institution's character and mission.
The YIVO (Jewish Research Institute) was founded in Vilnius in 1925, by a group of Jewish scholars and cultural activists.[1] Its mission was to collect and study the riches of the Yiddish language and literature, folktales, legends, and folksongs, in order to develop a scholarly understanding of the past Jewish way of life, which strongly affects us today.[2]
Actually, much was done in this domain even before the establishment of YIVO. We are familiar with the renowned expedition of the playwright S. Anski (may his memory be for a blessing) with the musician Engel; before World War I, they traveled through the towns of Poland, Volhynia, and Ukraine with considerable achievements.[3] When YIVO was created, we felt that it was a timely undertaking, because the need for organized, systematic work in the field had long been clear.
From its very first days, YIVO aroused much enthusiasm in Poland and elsewhere. Individuals (Friends of YIVO) joined the institution, and collectors' groups were formed in all Jewish groups and parties, from extreme Yiddishists to General Zionists.[4] All who were interested in collecting relics of the past participated in the work.
YIVO was composed of several divisions devoted to specific fields, such as philology-history, economy-statistics, and psychology-pedagogy. These divisions attracted the most important Yiddish scholars, researchers, and students. Many committees were set up, one of which was devoted to ethnography; this writer was a member. Using various methods, I began collecting ethnographic and folkloric materials. I realized that we had a wealth of folktales, legends, and proverbs. All this had to be collected; and if not now when?[5] That was my slogan. I visited cheders and Talmud-Torah schools, gathered songs and games, and contacted cheder teachers. As far as I remember, they did not object to my collecting, but some smiled at the thought that such a grown man was occupied with nonsense! However, they also helped. I met with students, artisans, copied registers of community societies, and remarks by who had a story to tell. As I mentioned, the atmosphere was not too welcoming at first. People considered the project a personal hobby rather than one of general significance. However, over time they began to evaluate it differently.
I would like to mention some collections that were of specific local importance. One of these was a minyan of Jews who lived in our town and studied in the small house of study.[6] People said that they wanted to bring the Messiah, and were dissuaded by the Ba'al Shem Tov, who told them that the Messiah's coming must not be forced prematurely.[7] I photographed the small table at which they studied (where Avrom Brandt, may his memory be for a blessing, had his seat) as well as their gravestones in the cemetery.
A fenced area across from the large synagogue was known as the tiny cemetery. As I recall, people said that a bride and groom had sunk into the earth on that spot during their marriage ceremony. Another version linked the site with the Khmelnitsky massacres of 1648-1649, when many Jews from our town were killed and were buried there.[8] Yet another opinion held that the site was symbolic, and similar sites were found near the synagogues in other towns, as an incentive to Jews to commit fewer sins. In any case, I noted all the versions concerning the site. I also sent in various photographs that were mostly taken by the student Y. Kraytser (may his memory be for a blessing).
Let me mention Avrom Eli Gruber (may his memory be for a blessing), also known as Avrom-Eli the badkhan, who provided many folksongs; and Avrom, Yissakhar's son, also known as Avrom, the painter's son[9]. Everyone remembers him. As a young man, he was a singer, a chorister with the renowned cantor Nisi Belzer of Berditshev. As he had had a good alto voice as a child, his father sent him to be a chorister. Later, he returned to our town, got married, and opened a small shop; but his spirit always yearned for music. At that time, a young Hasidic man (he prayed in the Trisk synagogue) who wrote and read musical notations was very rare.[10] This Avreml, Yissakhar's son (may his memory be for a blessing) was a great help in transcribing Hasidic melodies, prayers, and ordinary folk songs. We honor his memory!
I would also like to mention our material help to YIVO. For example, our Brenner library contributed 5 złoty a month symbolic aid that had considerable moral significance. Our Po'aley Tziyon city council members (Hofman, Y. Vaksman, Gertl) suggested supporting YIVO. Thanks to the aid of all the factions, the council allocated 200 złoty for YIVO.
Another great achievement was the community's allocation of 100 złoty; we considered it wonderful at the time. We were helped by Rabbi Verthaym, who made efforts to confirm the allocation
We would also like to mention Shlomo Regl (may his memory be for a blessing), the chairman of the community, who understood the need.
These actions were done to help YIVO until 1929-30. After I participated in the first YIVO conference in Vilnius, I emigrated to the Land of Israel, and the work was discontinued. I must say that our work left traces. If I remember correctly, a YIVO club was formed in a school, but I cannot report on its activities, as I no longer lived in the town.
Finally, I would like to note that in 1935 I participated in a gathering in Tel Aviv, honoring YIVO. Dr. Weinreich, who had come as a visitor to the country, was one of those present.[11]
Translator's Footnotes:
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Top row: Avrom Hokhman, Mantshe Sakal, Motl Rap, Avrom Zayd, Miriam Vaynfeld, Mekhl Gertl, Khayim-Hersh Engelsberg, Me'ir Cohen Middle row: Azri'el Hokhman, the writer Opatoshu, Eliyohu Gertl, and Yankev Ayzenberg (Eshed) Bottom row: Arn Brener, Avrom Tsimerman, Meytshe Hofman, Yekhi'el Fayer, and Shmerl Mints |
by Yekhezkel Oder, Melbourne, Australia
Translated by Yael Chaver
Our cultural activities in Hrubieszow began in 1918-1919. At Passover, the anniversary of Y. L. Peretz's death, an assembly took place in Hershele Noyekh's brick building, the location of the newly established library. As we know, the library was later split up by arrangement between political parties.
Preparations for the assembly were meticulous. The talented painter Avrom Hubel was even invited to design artistic posters for the project. Naturally, this was so expensive and would be unaffordable even here and now. This more or less indicates the relationship of our Hrubieszow cultural activists to this mission.
The program was varied. One-act plays by Peretz were performed by an amateur drama group; folksongs were presented by a choir (led by an Austrian Jewish officer, whose name I have forgotten). The event was highly successful, and led to intense cultural activity. This assembly was the first in a line of similar annual gatherings during Passover, until my emigration from Poland.
This work was not coordinated with the political parties. Sometimes the same activity would be initiated by two different institutions or parties. However, crises are unavoidable in social activities. The community became indifferent to our local activists, and a kind of depression set in; the momentum flagged, and our folks felt that urgent help was needed, in the form of professors from other locations, who would help created the proper atmosphere for future cultural work.
I do not recall which institution was the first to arrange events with outside speakers. But daily events were common, with artists and lecturers from Warsaw. Occasionally, theater ensembles and recitals would give guest performances. For example, the visit of a singer would morph into a festival, and leave a strong impression on spectators. He sang Two Birds Flew Across the Water, which became widely popular and was soon heard from all the workshops as far as Panska Street.[2]
The following group of young people was especially noteworthy; they were Ele Finkelshteyn, Shevele Milner, Y. S. Fayfer, Motl Benkel, Y. Shverdsharf, Hinde Firsht, Blank, Yitzkhok Ayzen, M. Grinboym. Nosn Zayd, S. E. Ayzn, Palast, and E. Korn. These cultural enthusiasts worked at the Peretz Library. Most of them later joined the Bund political party and pursued other directions. I remember them strolling along, chanting optimistic, hopeful songs. Our Polish neighbors were not pleased, but the young folks weren't bothered. They spread their wings, after so many years of being restricted to Jewish religious law. These same young folks later became members of the first sports club, which was led by an officer of the Austrian army. Let me emphasize that they were not enthusiastic about sports; they wanted to educate themselves. A People's University opened at that time, which operated very intensively and attracted many participants.[3]
Inviting speakers from Warsaw and other cities was now a virtual tradition.
The traditional Passover had to be transformed into a holiday honoring Peretz, as though agreed with the observant members of the community: You celebrate your holiday, and we will celebrate ours in parallel. Whether they agreed or not, they had to swallow the bitter pill. Life became much stronger.
Reception committees were organized, to greet and take care of every important guest, supplying their needs during their visit. I remember a number of talks that were especially impressive: Y. Patt's lecture on Y. L. Peretz, D. B Malkin's talk on the war, and B. Shefner's Laughing through Tears. These were the crowning achievements of our cultural work. In addition to the cultural holidays, our young folks organized projects for the traditional holidays such as Passover and Sukkot, though they did not anticipate any financial gains. One banquet, following the talk by D. B. Malkin, was exceptionally enjoyable and left a great impression on me. Adolf Nayshtat often came to give literary readings, which were excellent. He was especially remarkable in L. Andreyev's The Seven Who Were Hanged, which we enjoyed very much.[4]
[Columns 333-334]
In later years, when cultural life flowered exuberantly, the lectures by invited speakers and writers were still the high points that inspired us in our community work.
I must also mention the accomplishments of our capable musician, Mekhl Gertl, who organized a mandolin ensemble with 60-70 members. This orchestra was influenced by Po'aley Tziyon, and performed mostly at their party events. The performances, as well as the beautiful solos by the beloved Mekhl Gertl, enriched these evenings with important works by classical composers as well as folk music.
It should also be noted that the cultural work carried out by various political parties was an important contribution to the cultural achievements of the Jews of Hrubieszow during the last 30-40 years.
The Dance Epidemic
During 1918-1920, dance classes opened in the town. Our observant Hasidic circles were loudly opposed to this plague, but the drive to have fun was powerful, and broke down all barriers. Religiously observant parents were disregarded, and people rushed to the schools of dance. They quickly learned the art, and the epidemic took over the town.
Dancing! That was everyone's desire at the time. And why would people sit and wait for someone to build a dance hall? Or for an institution to hold an event? That would be too long to wait. Girls had the bright idea of meeting at the homes of female friends whose parents were more progressive, and dance there. Of course, you needed male partners to dance with; that was not too difficult to arrange. Groups formed, and had fun in private homes.
Later, other means of spending time together developed: people flirted, exchanged printed cards with declarations of love, and following that - the real dancing began.
In Hrubieszow, as everywhere, bands usually requested payment for performing. There might have been a few young people who had some money, but the majority were dependent on the parents whom they fought for a bit of freedom, as it were. Thus, the only choice was to dance without music. Over time, dancing became important, and newly established institutions organized dance evenings in the hope of attracting young people. In the last years, these evenings brought in a sizeable income.
The dance evenings set up through the Tarbut school, on Gurna St., were always very popular, and included many attractions. The group that was active in the school, known as the golden youth, included Yankl Kahan, Hillel Biterman, Arn Brener, Dovidl Brand, and Sara Hey. It comprised energetic, devoted activists, who dedicated their free time to working for the Zionist organization and the Tarbut school.
These evenings would go on until dawn. Afterwards the group would go to the Brodice grove and wake up the peasants of Svinitin with a charming, melodious song. They would rest in the grove and refresh themselves with the tasty cheese and cream from nearby Brodice village, and discuss various matters. In any case, there was no lack of time in Hrubieszow. Thank God, there was enough time, and the organizations made sure that the time would be used for the benefit of the community.
The Event in the Oak Grove
A successful event was organized in the oak grove by the administrators of the General Library. I'm sure that natives of Hrubieszow remember it well. Efforts were made to ensure easy access to the grove. A bridge was built across the stream, and the route was decorated and illuminated by colorful lamps. Almost all the young people gathered, and older people were also present. The town was emptied, with everyone being drawn to the grove. Attractions such as a lottery and air mail were offered. The project was quite risky. Incidentally, this was the first activity of its kind that had great material success.
At the Flanders' Garden
Some time later, the trade unions, which were located at Mendel Daytsh's on the church square, arranged a very interesting event: a festival. In addition to dancing, the program included gymnastics, a lottery, and singing by a choir as well as solo performers. This took place in the garden of the Flanders, on Panska St.
The Flanders family belonged to the assimilated circles. Everyone knew the house, for these reasons: First, the unfamiliar sounds of a piano were always heard. One of the Flanders daughters, who were famous for their beauty, played the instrument. Let me note that, at the time, Hrubieszow yearned for a bit of music, and people really enjoyed a tune. Second, young folks loved to be around the house. The house was blessed with beautiful daughters and a handsome son. Our young men were enchanted and intoxicated, especially when they saw the social group that spent time there. It's not surprising, then, that the poor boyish souls trembled and hoped for a miracle; but that is not what happened. The Flanders daughters did not remain spinsters for long. Bridegrooms came from various towns in Poland and soon emptied out the enchanted nest.
The Flanders garden, where the event took place, was not very large; there were bigger and more beautiful gardens in Hrubieszow, but the choice was fortunate. A beautiful poster was at the entrance, and it was the first time in the history of Hrubieszow that the phrase Workers of the world, unite appeared[5].
[Columns 335-336]
This event made a strong impression on the town. Years later, people talked about the spiritual pleasure they had derived.
Speaking of the first event mounted by the trade unions, I must mention a few founders of these unions. I refer to Moyshe Shukhman, the beloved workers' activist, who came from a distinguished family that was very well off and whose talented children loved Socialism. The second brother, Yisro'el Shukhman, became a Zionist. People were surprised that the son of a wealthy family had begun a trade union. According to accounts, Moyshe Shukhman lived in Warsaw for a long time, and brought the curse from there. The Hrubieszow artisans considered him their greatest misfortune, one who had set out to destroy their livelihood. Moyshe Shukhman brought in a few more members, among them the fiery orator and organizer Yehoshua Tsigl.
The Clubhouses
This was the time when the clubhouses were established, where young people passed the time and had fun, playing dominoes, conversing, and discussing the issues of the day. Two impulses were characteristic: the desire for community life, and the need for self-education.
The clubhouses were actually businesses, which stocked soda and snacks. Each clubhouse had its regulars. Thus, for example, Nosn Zayd, who ran one such clubhouse, was a founder of the Bund in Hrubieszow, had done much studying on his own, was well-versed in Yiddish, Hebrew, and European literature, and was capable of analyzing complicated problems. It was really very interesting to witness the discussions in his soda stall, listening or joining in, while cooling oneself with the tasty sherbets. The workers who listened to the Bund discussions assembled at Nosn Zayd's stall.
Another clubhouse, Rokhtshe's, was where the red faction gathered. They, too, played dominoes, and frequently had political discussions. There were duels between the group headed by Dovid Fayl and the other political groups who would visit there.
Summarizing the groups in the clubhouses, I must say that these cramped soda stalls were where the foundations of organizational community work were laid, and the ground for the development of political parties was created. Most of the community activists came from them. The clubhouses were professional schools, which the students never abandoned.
But let us not forget the dance epidemic, which overtook everyone and everything. Even in later years, when strong institutions were established, dance parties were still vital. There was no more need of private homes; there were always locations that were ready to host these occasions.
Boating on the Huczwa
In addition to these pastimes, our young people began to spend time in the fresh air, and began to observe the natural surroundings. One stimulating factor were the descriptions of nature in the works of Asch and Sienkiewicz.[6] The Huczwa River flowed peacefully around Hrubieszow, and joined the Bug River with a rush 5-6 kilometers later, in the small village of Horodok. I had a strong connection to the village, as relatives of mine had lived there before they emigrated to the Land of Israel. Many people remember the trips on the Huczwa to the Bug, to see the confluence spot.
None of the Jews who had lived in Hrubieszow for centuries (except possibly the water-carriers and a few fishermen) had the slightest notion of the pleasure that the surrounding river could give. Suddenly the young people realized that it was a truly beautiful river. They began borrowing boats from the local fishermen, but encountered serious problems. The boats were old and broken-down, and needed to be hauled out of the water every few minutes in order to bail out the water, begging your pardon. It was sad to see our boys and girls work so hard for a bit of pleasure in the boats on the river. The man who took pity on them was a Hrubieszow painter named Zhin, who had a fine house with a garden near the river. He realized that he could make money easily without having to climb scaffolding up to the church spire in order to paint the statues. It was not long before he launched many new boats into the Huczwa, all colorfully painted.
Our young people took to this sport happily. They rented boats in groups and rowed to the Bug or the Brodice grove, where they spent time. They especially enjoyed a spot near Svinitin, where lush willow trees grew and created a lovely place on the riverbank. The weeping willows were a meeting place for courting couples, and were generally very popular; young poets, in particular, were inspired by the trees. You might say that boating on the river became another epidemic. If those weeping willows still exist, they should once again weep for the vibrant Jewish lives that were so cruelly stifled by the German Nazi executioners.
The Campaign to Benefit YIVO, Led by A. Ivenitski[7]
The following were active in the campaign to benefit YIVO: Y. Ayzn, S. Zayd, Y. S. Fayfer, M. Kraytser. S. Hubel, H. Pachter, and Y. Royter. Especially noteworthy was the help of the leader of the community, Dr. Grinshpan. The Jewish community of Hrubieszow raised 100 gulden for YIVO.[8]
A number of friends donated the following important objects to YIVO. Y. S. Fayfer donated complete sets of Lebns-fragen and Folkstsaytung from 1916-1918; a family letter from Alexander Tsederboym, the editor of HaMelits; and a collection of printed anti-Semitic materials. Shpiler donated the records of the Tailor's Society; and Yankev Perets donated HaMelits.
Yedi'es fun YIVO, 9-10, November-December 1937.
Translator's Footnotes:
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Standing: Shmerl Hekht, Dvoyre Riz, Yeshayhu Shuldiner, Bukhtreger Middle row: Avrom Gertl, Hersh Sass, Sore Eydelshteyn. Shmuel Miler, Leyble Engelsberg, Sheyndl Goldberg, Yoysef-Me'ir Lerer Bottom row: Dovid Hekht, Avrom Soyfer, Yoyne Frid |
by Natan Hadas, Herzliya, Israel
Translated by Yael Chaver
Anyone wanting to write the history of the drama clubs in our town needs to start from the ancient period, i.e., the Purim-Shpil era.[1] But who can remember? When I think of that hazy time, I can hear the melodies of Purim songs.
The Purim-shpilers would go from house to house, perform the Book of Esther, the Selling of Joseph, Simeon and Levi, and would sing songs whose origins are obscure.[2] I will mention some phrases that I remember from the Simeon and Levi play.
With our force we will compel them
With our swords we will kill them
With our spears we will struggle,
And overturn the city of Shechem.
A few phrases from the Selling of Joseph:
They eat raw meat
And forget about God.
The following sentences are from the scene in which the brothers tell Jacob what happened:
Brothers, brothers, strip his clothes,
Take off his silken shirt.
These became hit songs that were sung in every house, all year round. This was also true of songs that were brought to the town by itinerant Purim-Shpil troupes. For years, workers sang them at their work benches.
The folk songs were tragic, about loves that never came about. I remember a few lines from one of those songs:
He thought for long about seducing her,
Came in with a smile, ‘Let's go for a walk’,
They strolled in the faraway grove.
I don't remember what happened in the grove. Each troupe had its own version.
During the Austrian occupation, a drama club was created with the aim of supporting the community institutions such as Linas-Tzedek, the orphanage, and others.[3] Among the members were Hillel Biterman (Shmuel Krilover's son), Berl Kavkis's daughter, and others whose names I can't recall. It was not an easy beginning; they were pioneers in this sphere, and fought with their Hasidic and religiously fanatic parents.
Once the political parties were established, almost every party had its own drama club to satisfy the cultural needs of the young people, and enabled the existence of various institutions. Members of the Po'aley-Tziyon drama club were Meytshe Hofman (Director), Yehoshua Biterman, Yankl Shaffel, Mine Fayl, Halbershteyn, this writer, and others.
We performed plays and dramas by Yiddish classical writers, as well as translations. We would start to prepare before the High Holidays. Rehearsals went on until midnight. Sometimes, we sometimes gave guest performances in other towns in the vicinity. As the Mishna says, The needs of your nation of Israel are many.[4] The great Yiddish writer Sholem Aleichem translates this as, The needs of Jews cannot be underestimated. Occasionally, new institutions would turn to the club for help, such as the He-Halutz fund, training for emigration to the Land of Israel, and other institutions.
I remember a few episodes in the drama club. The female members made special efforts to play classical roles, roles of prima donnas. No one wanted to play an older woman. So Motl Rov, (may he rest in peace) played the role of a rabbi's wife. During the performance, someone in the audience called out, Motl the Rabbi's wife! He continued to be called the Rabbi's wife for years afterward.
The Peretz Commemorative Evening
Every year, an event commemorating Peretz was held during the week of Passover. The first part of the program was presented by the mandolin ensemble. Then a lecturer would provide an overview of Peretz's activities and works; and the event would close with scenes presented by the drama club.
One year, when everything was ready, people suddenly noticed that there was no picture of Peretz. There was an uproar. People looked for the picture of Peretz everywhere but it was not to be found. In the meantime, one of the activist women quickly brought a large-scale picture of herself. Everyone broke out laughing.
Why are you laughing? she asked. Peretz, the photographer, took this picture.
My Father Gets Upset
One of these Peretz evenings created a prolonged estrangement between me and my father. I was acting with Meytshe Hofman. He played the role of Berl Shnayder, and I the role of the great defender of Jews, Rabbi Levi Yitskhok of Berditshev.[5] My makeup was so realistic that when I looked at myself in the mirror I was frightened. I thought that Rabbi Levi Yitskhok of Berditshev himself had been resurrected.
As I recall, the misshapen dogcatcher, a Jew-hater, jumped on to the stage in the middle of the scene, and did not allow the play to continue.
[Columns 339-340]
He had found a mistake in the permit. It was hopeless; and we had to break off the play. Apparently, someone reported this to my father, the scribe. One morning he came into the house and began to scold me: Ha, you're friends with Meytshe, that heretic rascal? And you make fun of the great righteous man, Rabbi Levi Yitskhok?
From that day forward, my father stopped speaking to me for quite a few years, until I left for the Land of Israel.
The Guest Performance in Kryłów
The He-Halutz committee of Kryłów once invited us to present a Peretz evening. Kryłów was 18 kilometers from Hrubieszow, and we would need to leave on Saturday afternoon. Obviously, that was out of the question. Who would dare to sit on a cart on Shabbat, and which Jewish driver would agree to drive? The problem was solved thanks to our member Lederkremer, who lived in a suburb that was populated by Christians.
He hired some carts from non-Jews, and that Saturday afternoon our entire troupe sneaked into the courtyard where the carts were stored. Once we were on the carts with all our gear, the driver covered us with straw and hay, so that our faces were concealed, in just the way that the Passover dishes were packed away for the coming year. A few kilometers away from town, we began to extract ourselves and shake off the straw and the hay. The band started playing a lively wedding tune, and we entered the town singing happily.
The delegation that greeted us near the town consisted of representatives of He-Halutz, Frayhayt, the Jewish National Fund and Keren Ha-Yesod.[6] With great pomp, they led us into the renowned hall of the firefighters, where the event was to take place.
The hall was in a large warehouse, its roof covered with straw; the walls were hung with buckets and ropes, and other fire-extinguishing tools. Pigeons slept on the rafters. When the audience disturbed them, they began to fly overhead and drop gold coins on the heads of the assembly. The floor of the stage had a large hole, in which Arn Brener (may his memory be for a blessing) crouched uncomfortably and prompted the actors by lantern light.
The seats were arranged in rows, as in a proper theater. The closest row to the stage was the most expensive. The occupants were the wealthy women of the town, their daughters and daughters-in-law; they were immediately recognizable by the large, heavy gold chains they wore to adorn themselves for the great event.
Once the mandolin ensemble had completed its part, Itshe Shaffel (now living in the U.S.) and I presented types from Peretz's stories, including the rabbi of Chelm, which was widely applauded. The following incident occurred during the last number: one of the women seated in a box moved the lamp (it might have bothered her). The prompter's world grew dark, and he was struck dumb.[7] We were upset, and nearly broke down. However, thanks to the power of the rabbi (as the saying goes), we saw it through without the prompter.
At the end, those seated in the box held the curtain and demanded an encore. We had no choice but to agree, and presented scenes that came to our minds. If not for our comrade Khayim Harfin, who drew the curtain, we would still be continuing that performance.
The last play I acted in before leaving for the Land of Israel was Hershele Ostropoler. I played the title role, and Meytshe was Reb Borekh. I left the next day, almost without removing my makeup.
Translator's Footnotes:
by Malke Krongold-Spektor, New York
Translated by Yael Chaver
It was 1917. My first role on the stage was that of Tsipke in Jacob Gordin's God, Man, and Devil.[1] I don't know who discovered that I was talented, but the fact is that from then on I was always known as Tsipke; I was all of fifteen years old. In 1920, when I left for America, they gave me a gold brooch, engraved with the name Tsipke Krongold instead of Malke Krongold.
Now to the theatrical troupe. Our rehearsals took place in the Yiddish library, on their large stage. The actors in God, Man, and Devil were Zelik Peretz. Shepsl Brand, Sender Fayl, Dovidl Brand, and others. We would alternate that with Thieves and The Great Jew. The performance was presented by the Tse'irey Tziyon movement. That was the only time I played with a different group.
We also presented The Village Youth by Leon Kobrin. The main roles were filled by me and Elye Finkelshteyn. I'm sure many Hrubieszow natives remember this play.
In 1919, there was a pogrom in Lemberg.[2] Our young people decided to raise funds for those who were suffering there. They went out in pairs on Sunday morning to collect money. Two rich non-Jews came out of the church and wanted to donate a large amount. When one is young, one is bold. I didn't let them place the money in our collection box, and said, You can't buy your way out of your pogrom against the Jews.
Many years have gone by, but I can only say that Hrubieszow was the home of intelligent, talented young people.
Translator's Footnotes:
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