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As we see from the bibliography (that unfortunately exists in Hebrew only), the Polish king “Kazimierz Jagiellonczyk” gave Lanovits as a gift to prince Peshkov Wolowicki in the year 1444 for his patriotic service, and in “1583, Sava Jalowitzki increased the kingdom's taxes to fifteen orchards, fifteen --- [chimneys? not sure of this word], and two flour mills.” “From the beginning of the 15^th century Lanovits was famous with its large fortress-palace, whose description can be found in the Polish national archives.”

In other words, as we see, Lanovits existed even before the Sephardi expulsion and the difference between the historical wells of information and the legends and the stories are too great, so we will not relate according to the “wells,” but we will deal with it according to the encyclopedic sources, even though they are factually poor.

In the various encyclopedias, Lanovits is already described at the beginning of the 15^th century as a “Jewish town,” as a place of production, which was endowed with national heroes for their actions, and [was also known] as a stronghold city.

The orchard keepers and the --- [? repeated unknown word] flour mills indicate that it was already a town that buzzed with Jewish initiative, and was

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industrialized, something that was done in the entire Poland and Ukraine by the Jews from the beginning of the 10^th century (see Dr. Y. Shipper, Story of the Jewish Economy, volume 2, page 532).

The “Geography Dictionary” of 1902, that is a pure Catholic organization and its tendencies lean to – Polish chauvinism, steadfastly states that Savo Jolowicki brought in a lot of money to the king, etc., and whoever knows the history of the Jews in Poland (Professor M. Balaban, and Mag. Y.Z. Trunk) knows that 15 chimneys means 15 factories, and according to those times – that was a huge industry, and industry means Jewish strong dependency in that place.

You can comfortably assume that in Lanovits, the Nazi vandals destroyed five to six hundred years of human creation, and for the Jews, a community of many hundreds of years old – a community that is already described in the “Pinkus of Four Countries,” as a lively, Jewish administration fact.

Ukraine is famous as the least stable place in the entire Russo-Poland, the history of the Ukrainians is a history of enslaved masses whose dreams of national independence was always bathed in Jewish blood and Jewish possessions, until it became almost a fact that when there was talk of a Ukrainian uprising, there was also talk of Jewish pogroms. So, there is the question: Why did Chmielnicki's uprising in 1648, which is the only documented uprising, not shake up Lanovits, and it remained untouched, although we know that the main acts of that thug were concentrated around Lanovits and its surroundings. The villages Novodowka, Kozacek, Totorinec, Matowiewic (with Chmienicki's help, by the name of Matwei), were all marked by Senkewicz as centers of Ukrainian activity against Wiszniewski. Then why does history tell of Wisznewiec, Kremnic, Dubno, and Wiszogradek, that they were ruined, emptied, destroyed at the same time, and so on, by the Tatar Ukrainians, and so on, and not Lanovits?

The only answer is that Lanovits belonged to the Russian prince Yalowicki, and the Jews there benefitted from their situation as Russian subjects, not like the above-mentioned cities over which Polish earls ruled, and essentially identified with the objectives of the Ukrainian main enemy.

The family Yalowicki is the “black sheep” of the Russian monarchy family history, known for its liberal leanings which

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always looked for the nonconformity in Russian absolutism, loved all people, and … even supported the Kosciuszko uprising in 1863. The Yalowickis were the only enlightened ones, and it is almost clear that Lanovits was externally politically stable, and did not suffer from the Tatar Ukrainian uprisings which from time to time tore apart all the neighboring towns.

Internally, Lanovits, historically, was a stable community without harsh community disputes, rabbinic arguments, or criminal acts. The Pinkus [book of records] of the committee of four countries that envelops the era of the beginning of Lanovits, is also a Pinkus of Jewish justice – a society, or a judicial body, and according to royal decrees, it was the only institution that judged Jews and outlined the laws, and in that Pinkus, Lanovits was not brought even once to any legal court, even though it was always mentioned as a community (see Pinkus, section 1, Hilpern, page 530), it seems that Lanovits, as in our times, even then was a place that existed in an atmosphere of security of mind and livelihood concerns, and did not search for social outlooks in far out issues, which were the main goals of other cities (such as Shabtai Zvi discussions, Reb Yonasan Eibeshitz, and Yaakov Emden, and later chassidic themes, etc.).

It is written up as a stable Jewish settlement, without any spiritual areas and internal disputes, and without any external political-physical enhancement, until our century.

The century brought along all kinds of catastrophes, and Lanovits strongly felt all the political aftereffects. That's how it was after the czarist failure of 1905, when the Russian government wanted to refute the hatred of the masses towards the Jews and looked for traitors and Jewish deserters. Also, in Lanovits there were small pogroms of the “burghers” and larger pogroms, looting, and murder attempts of the Petlura camp of thugs. But at this point, Lanovits was already no exception, so we will not stop here, you can read about this in the martyr literature of the Ukrainian Jews.

This is the last Pinkus book of the tragically destroyed Lanovits community, the only source of information about the town, and the editor did everything so that the material that was entered into the book should withstand the proof of fact and reality, so that the “Lanovits Book”

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would be the only historical source for Lanovits in its final period and final days.

According to the book, in the mid-20^th century Lanovits was a city with a Jewish life pulse. The youth made its decision for the future and emigrated. The factor for this was specifically the Poles who conducted ruses among the Jews and Ukrainians as they [the Poles] took positions of power and pressured the Jews as they [the Poles] were the rulers in that part of Ukraine. Also, the Ukrainians helped in the immigration mood. Since they were hot, primitive, blood-thirsty people, they were always ready to incite a pogrom, looting, and killing. But in general, the Jews remained loyal to their stance, and remained in Lanovits with their philosophy: Everything disappeared in Lanovits, but remains in Lanovits.

Until the '20s, the youth in Lanovits did not immigrate to Israel. At that time, Lanovits was dreaming about its chassidic, messianic illusions. You could go anywhere except for Israel. And at the same time, earning a living went on. Lanovits, that was deep in an area of many Ukrainian lively villages and Polish magnates, who drank and played away their property through prostitution and empty Polish pride, Lanovits benefitted from economic improvement, and a certain type of attitude was acquired that one had to “thank God that one is alive, one has livelihood, and there is nothing else for us to think about.”

In the middle of these years, as they yeshiva of Reb Mottel Shpizman was put up, he was the beloved pedagogue and beloved scholar, the youth began to study in all three institutions – in Tarbut, Polish school, and in yeshiva, and it was here [in the yeshiva] that a strange thing happened. A group of passionate youth from Lanovits, the only ones who went to yeshiva, concluded that this was not an opening for the youth, it was not a well of studies, and it was not persuasive for beliefs, and the Talmud concretized the youth's negativity and raised the idea of immigration to Israel.

At that time, the first group of Lanovits chalutzim [immigrant pioneers] was organized (Y. Glakser, Y. Kirshon, D. Gurwitz, and M. Rosental), and also a hunched over shoemaker, who never had a place among those who knew him, he also went to Israel, a older unmarried girl who was loved in town, takes her leave saying Israel is a new world for those who want to start life anew, and Israel suddenly became the place that addresses general political Jewish questions as well as private problems.

The youth were active, and organized themselves with the drive for Aliyah during the time that their parents remained sunk in their day in and day out lives.

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Unfortunately, crazy fate hit Lanovits when the majority of the youth's yearning for Aliyah came to Lanovits, but there were no certificates and their dear parents waited for the Messiah, and were a helpless mass as sheep to the slaughter.

Lanovits was a city of learned and smart Jews, but sadly its learnings chased it from the dark realities and brought it into an inflated condition of waiting for miracles, and that miracle never happened.

…Lanovits Culture and Yearning

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There were: a scholarly rabbinic leader, two ritual slaughterers, Yoel and Yitzhok, and an immediate mention of places of prayer, the kloizel [small, informal place of prayer], a kloiz, a shul, a Beis Midrash and a small shul. Each shul had a chazan [leader in prayer], especially for the high holidays and for holy, festive holidays. And who of the congregants was not capable of leading the congregation in their prayer!

The congregants were proud of the fact that their main chazan was a religious person, a good scribe, well versed in writing Torah scrolls and tefillin [phylacteries], and immersed himself in the mikva [ritual bath] each time before writing out the name of God.

The High Holidays in the shuls were a busy time. It was a time of holy tremors, when each Jew reviewed his behavior towards his fellow man; it was time for inner reflection between man and man.

Immediately after Yom Kippur, they began to build a Succah, providing recollections about where the Jews came from. A long history: Egypt, the journey in the desert, becoming an independent nation through sacrifices,

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living in huts (succos) despite the inconvenience. It was a deep concept, that the Lanovitz Jew had a source; that things did not actually begin in a small shop with a livelihood. And not to forget being a people with a Torah that looked down from the mountaintop of Sinai until today, and commands you: “Behave better than other nations such as the non-Jews.” Everyone was celebrating with the Torah, that is Simchas Torah. It was almost even a greater joy than finding a marriage partner or earning a fine living. Everyone was eager to carry one of the heavy Torah scrolls, as they headed towards the hakofos [dancing with the Torah], dancing around and around with richness. The air was thick with joy. This was from the times that they still spoke Hebrew in the Holy Temple, when Torah was the flag whose fluttering was the power that accompanied the Jews in times of war.

The same can be said for days of mourning – a spiritually Hebrew Tisha be'Av [9th of Av]. The synagogue was illuminated with lanterns, the souls were dark. The world was going down. A small detail – there was once a Holy Temple, it was destroyed. So, how can you be calm, how can our hearts be quiet? There was a sadness, overall, prominent Jews, business people, suddenly left everything behind, removed their shoes, turned the benches upside down [not being permitted to sit on chairs comfortably on Tisha be'Av], and sat on the floor and cried while reading Eicha [Lamentations]. It was a spiritual cry. Only people who are so deeply spiritual can cry over what happened in the past.

One sensed the spiritual atmosphere of the town throughout the year, during freezing days and on Shabbaths.

It was a town that had its own rabbi, Reb Aharon Rabin, with his own little shul. The congregants sought his company, were eager to hear his sermons, and sat at his table, not for the sake of the served food, but mainly to hear his Torah commentaries. The Sabbath singing was important, removing you from the materialism and enabling you to feel closer to heaven. There was a shalosh seudos [third festive meal of Shabbath], a melave malka [festive meal “escorting” the end of Shabbath], or a yahrzeit [memorial celebration] of a spiritual leader.

Periodically, other rabbis came to visit our town to spread the learning of Jewishness, chassidus, celebrate festive meals, spread Torah scholarship, deep songs, and awaken the spirit of the soul.

I remember in particular, the rabbis: from Trisk, Ustrog, Vizhnitz (he was called the Vizhnitzer Rav), and Shumsk, and other rebbes whom I do not remember who came to Lanovitz periodically. My father was not satisfied celebrating a Shabbath only with one of the above-mentioned living rabbis. He celebrated the memorial yahrzeit of the Ruzhiner rebbe, the Chortkower rebbe, Usyatiner rebbe, and the Berdichever rebbe. He meant to commemorate them so as not to forget that they were more important than daily economic efforts. They worked hard for a week, a gray one, one with worries, in order to rise to the most important parts of human life - the Shabbaths and the yahrzeits.

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Our youth sought alternate spiritual pleasures. They rebelled against the old forms of spirituality and searched for other forms. But their ultimate aim was the same. The question they posed was how best to reach their goal. They established a lending library, and promoted propaganda for literature, secular, technical, and artistic literature. They also established a school where children, whose parents could not afford the tuition, attended classes. They created a Bikur Cholim [helping and visiting the sick] society, whose members helped sick people as needed, and remained at people's bedside during a night of fever, until death.

The center point of the youths' activities was to provide help and brotherhood, to enrich a person with loftier feelings than their own egotistical ones, thus enriching the spirit of the person.

Lanovitz had a reputation as a center for good deeds. When Yechiel Shamesh rose early in the morning, and went from house to house, knocking on windows, shouting: “It is time to get up for morning worship,” his message was symbolic; saying in effect: “You've slept enough; now it's time to get to work. The body has rested, now it is time to nourish the soul, serving the Creator.” And worship consisted not only of prayer, but it also encompassed good deeds and charity, all in an effort to do good deeds for the Creator of the World.

If a person did not have money to buy matzos for Passover, we were obligated to provide him with matzos so that he could fulfill the commandment to eat them on Passover. Should a young man be in difficulty, wishing to marry and carry out the deeds that were appropriate for his age, but not having the means, we were obligated to help him get married and provide bridal gifts and gifts for the groom and provide a dowry – then it becomes a couple. Then, a couple who would have little ones would facilitate the growth of the Jewish community.

Inasmuch as Lanovitz merited to be a border town, and it had soldiers stationed in its barracks, and there were Jewish soldiers among the non-Jewish ones. It was a great mitzva to invite them into Jewish homes for the Sabbath and holidays, to let them enjoy a kiddush, a prayer, a blessing on the food - to reduce the frequency of eating non-kosher food and the defilement of the Shabbath and the Jewish holidays.

From a distance of years and oceans, Lanovitz appears as a huge barrel of small, buzzing people, who are busy, buzzing, and do not rest. They are always rushing to do good deeds, help with charity, a Jewish event, a mitzva.

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It was a laboratory for spirituality, warmth, and communion among the residents. The Gentile neighbors could not understand this spirit. But how could they understand the taste of the Lanovitz spirit?

It was an unforgettable town.

The more we lived with Gentiles, the more the spirit and pride of Lanovitz was raised. It was a kind of mountain peak of highly spiritual people. Today, it is hard to believe that we are no different, thanks to communities like Lanovitz, and it is hoped that the Jewish state will be different than other nations thanks to Lanovitz.

It is a community that should not be forgotten.

A new generation, new spiritual deeds

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It is not easy for me to take my pen and describe my recollections of Lanovitz and the dear Jews who are no longer among the living, who left the living world not because of the sin of Adam and Eve, but because of the deeds of animals in human form.

I shall remember forever the various classes of Jews with their good values and their pride, without any sign of arrogance. They were loyal and good to everyone without exception, wherever one met another, just as well in the street as in the Beis Midrash, and in contrast, even in the bath house. At a joyous event, their wishes, which came after a few drops of a bitter drink or a piece of homemade cake or pie, came from their purest heart. If, heaven forbid, a person became ill, everyone felt the pain as if the ill person was part of his household. One could see the sorrow on each person's face.

The whole town of Lanovitz was like one devoted family. A family's joyous occasion was an occasion for everyone, and heaven forbid, a misfortune was also felt by all, without exception, rich or poor.

The town was slumbering

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I had the opportunity to know many towns around the world. I did not meet Jews who were as warm-hearted, welcoming, even to those whom no one had ever seen nor heard about, and good to one another as to those in Lanovitz.

When the Austrian prisoners of war were stationed in Lanovitz, the Jews went out to take care of them with all kinds of food. Everyone knew, for instance, that Jews who sold quick lime were not wealthy, yet they hosted five of these POWs. I remember well that a Jew from Buchach, Galicia, with the name of Yidel Geltner, stayed in my home. He wrote to his wife and children how well he was treated. We received a thank you letter from her. We never demanded a payment reward nor any thanks. This hospitality custom was in the blood of every Lanovitz Jew.

Once, on the day before Passover, I went to Yekil Yisrael, son of Wolf, to bake matzos. He had a machine for baking matzos. I don't remember his family name. On that occasion I met a 15-year-old lad, a grandson of Lipeche. I noticed, as he moved, that he was only using one of his hands. The other was wrapped in rags. I asked him what was the matter with his hand. He replied that his hand had broken while he was working picking apples in the orchard of Eli Kuziel. He fell off a tree and broke his hand. I asked” “Did you go see a doctor?” He replied that his hand was looked at by Bakshe, the country doctor. I asked him: “When did this happen?” He replied: “When we were picking apples. So, you know what happens when you pick apples or bake matzos!” I told the story to Yidel Kiskivtzer, also known as Greenblat, who lost no time looking into this matter because Bashke said that it was necessary to amputate the hand. The case immediately came before Asher Brilliant, of blessed memory, and he took the lad to Lemberg to try and save the hand. And if not, at least he would be left with one hand. The injured hand was already black, and the young boy was now in overall danger.

In the end, he was able to go home with both hands intact. When I spoke to him and asked him if his family knew about the matter, he replied that he told no one. He had visited Bashke only once; that Asher Brilliant had paid on his own for the treatment in the Lemberg hospital, and had visited him often to track his recovery.

The town of Lanovitz had no heroes, but the virtue of kindness and mercy

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could be seen in everyone at all times and in all circumstances.

When Poland, may its name be erased, annexed Lanovitz, the local Jews could not benefit in any way from the new regime. The Poles imported with them Jew hatred.

When the first Poles came, with the assistance of French officers, we three,

I, Asher Brilliant, and Yisrael Katz, left to the house of Leah Chana Etty, and honored the entering army with bread and salt. I predicted then that we were likely to regret their arrival. To our sorrow, this ended up being the case.

The Polish occupiers of Lanovitz very soon displayed their poison. They settled Polish hooligans from the Warsaw area into the entire area, and they were called “Osadnikes” [settlers], may their names be erased. One fine day (fine for the newly-arrived Poles, but not for us Jews), three Osadnikes stood in the middle of the street. One of them, named Ogurek, may his name be erased, was from Napadowka [NW of Lanovitz]. They stood across from Shmuel Moshe Luzer's house. As his son Toleh left the house just at that minute, one of them, apparently Ogurek, called him over and slapped his face, without any reason. The second Pole urged Toleh to hit him back. All of this was just a taunt because everyone knew that we Jews were powerless.

A few days later, while in my shop, I was visited by Moshe Tepper from Itzkovitz [Juskowcy]. And just standing there, caught up in the busyness of the shop, thinking about the greater situation and the details thereof, Uziel Chaim Mordechai's comes in, also known as Rabin, and he asked me: “Why are you so pensive today? Have your ships sunk?” I replied : “I never thought about being wealthy, I am only thinking about what will be tomorrow. I do not see that our new neighbors that have been transplanted to our region from the Warsaw and Poznan region are likely to improve our lives.” He next asked what I had observed to lead me to this opinion. I told him what had happened to Toleh, Moshe Luzer's son, a few days earlier. Uziel proceeded to say: “If only you would have seen what just happened to me.” He recounted: He has for a long time, as everyone knew, had business relations with estate owner Laduniuk, may his name be erased. Recently, he went to see him regarding a business matter, as usual, and there was no shortage there of four-legged dogs, even two-legged ones. One of the dogs ran forward and attacked him. Miraculously, Uziel had a stick which he used to protect himself. When Laduniuk came out of his house to greet him, he said,

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“You are lucky that I don't have a gun on me, otherwise I would have shot you on the spot for hitting my dog.”

It was under such conditions that our Lanovitz community lived and hoped with a pure belief in God and in a better future.

Monish Riba, son of Yosel Moshe, of blessed memory, was a decent young man, good looking, and honest. He ran a small business of buying eggs from farmers in the surrounding area and selling these in Zbarazh. He would return early in the evening, taking a route distant from the Soviet border so as to avoid the danger of being arrested by a Polish border patrol, as was their usual behavior. But this time, one or two young thugs from that same village came out and murdered him. It was not difficult to find out who the murderers were, because the next day a blood-soaked garment was found on one of the murderers. But Jewish blood was expendable, so the local authorities were not interested in indicting the murderer. Instead, they encouraged the Gentile communities to distance themselves even more so from Jews.

To enter or leave after sundown to or from Shumsk [Szumsk], Kremenec, or Vishnevitz [Wisniewski, Wiszniew] to Lanovitz was like an inquisition. It was particularly dangerous in the winter period when, for example, transporting coal to a storage place made of earth, in order to warm the houses. The following happened to Yitzchak Borg's son-in-law Shmuel Karshenboim. He traveled to Shumsk to trade in flour as was his custom. It happened that on the way, his wagon broke down in the middle of a field. Because they could not reach Shumsk in time by nightfall, they decided to stay put in the field until daylight fearing the Polish bullies. The night was freezing and long. Due to this accident and exposure, Yitzchak died several weeks later, long before his time. The village Poles, may their names be cursed, did not hesitate, even on these freezing nights, to snatch up innocent Jews and do some kind of trickery.

Bentzi Gurvitz, or as we called him, Bentzi Itzik Hirsh, of blessed memory, was engaged to the daughter of Aharon Marczich. As was our custom, the groom went to his bride's house on a Friday night. On Shabbath evening, one can stay a bit longer, so as he left their house at 11 o'clock at night. As he left the house, he was attacked by a group of Poles, may their names be erased, who beat him until he collapsed. Next, they picked him up and placed him on a bench and cut his hair off at the front of his head.

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Afterwards, they smeared the hair with soap and forced him to eat the mixture while fiercely continuing to beat him. When they saw that he was already severely tortured, they led him to the village of Novosilkes. There, on a high hill, which was a gravel pit, from which they used to dig up gravel to repair the roads, they threw him down while he was semi-conscious, quiet as a wall. He remained like that until morning, when he regained consciousness. He would have died there and no one would have known, but luckily a well was nearby which they called Loicziche's well. A Christian woman went to this well to fetch some water and she heard moaning from nearby, and noticed him lying near there. That is how he was saved. This episode did not happen during Hitler's times, but a lot earlier when one still hoped that you could live in peace with the Poles. We thought (mistakenly) that they would get used to living with us and with time, we would learn how to deal with them.

I once happened to visit my brother-in-law, Moshe Tepper, in his village, Iskevitz. A policeman by the name of Tomzhik positioned himself at Tepper's door and proceeded to address the assembled crowd of Christians. The policeman implored them to no longer sell any of their produce to Jews. He added, “Note that the Jew has a big belly. It is due to the butter and chickens you sell him and do not eat yourselves, so the Jew acquires a fat stomach. Afterwards he travels to a spa to reduce his excess weight. To carry out your hard labor you need a pair of boots. So, you go to a Jew and ask him to loan you a few zlotys to buy the boots. He takes three times the amount from you, and you are ignorant of the debt details, and believe his Jewish face.” At the same time, he instructs the crowd that there are already Gentile buyers at the train station who will buy their grain, eggs, and poultry. Those Gentiles who persisted to sell their goods to Jewish merchants became afraid to leave their homes at night for fear of a beating. The Poles came to realize that such threats were an effective tool since almost no peasant had indoor bathrooms. Even many Jews did not have such a luxury. As a result of these threats, many Gentiles succumbed to these threats against their own comforts and so had to meet the demands. Selling to a Jewish merchant normally fetched a better price because of the fierce competition amongst Jewish merchants. Jews sharply shaved their profit in order to make a living.

Opposite our home lived Asher Leib Melamed. His niece and her eight-year-old son lived with them.

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She supported herself by selling kvass [low alcohol drink] and sunflowers on Fridays for Shabbath. During her free time, she used to drop in to visit us. One night, after we were already asleep, she came to our house with her child. She told us that the aforementioned policeman, Tomzhik was on duty that night. Instead of patrolling the town, he chased her out of her bed and went to sleep there. We stayed awake with her for the rest of the night.

When the forces of Petlura's army (1917) bombarded Lanovitz, most of us fled, just a few stayed behind. My late wife also fled with a child only several weeks old. She did not know where to flee and I did not know where she fled to. I escaped to Lieber, behind the mountain, and hid in a Gentile cemetery. While I was hiding there, a Pole from my town, Voznikevich, approached me. He tried to console me, saying, “Notice what hooligans these Ukrainians are? I don't understand what they have against Jews.” I thought then that the Poles were our allies. However, as later events showed, once the Poles were “in the saddle,” his son went around town with a whip in hand. Woe to the Jew who came under his hand. He wanted to test his whip, regardless on whom, old or young, small or big.

Once, I, with my brother-in-law, Eli, may his memory be blessed, had to go see him in his courtyard. At the time, Eli had a tile business. He needed a machine with which to mix the lime. In those days, no one walked bareheaded. Eli and I went to this Pole's smith shop, where he worked, located 30 meters down a path with a gate. We entered his property wearing our hats. The fact that we did not remove our hats the Pole found insulting. As a result, he demanded a much higher price for the desired machine than it would have cost in a Kremenitz store. Eli remarked: “That's a lot of money.” The Pole replied: “Money is of no consequence for you. If it were not for your wealth, you would have removed your hat at my door and not dared to walk with your head covered until you approached me.”

One day, our district chief of the area, a resident of one of the villages, received a letter from the Warsaw magistrate to arrange a collection for poor Poles, not, heaven forbid, including any Jews. This collection was probably destined to support the very hooligans, the “piketchikes” [picketers] who used to stand in front of Jewish stores not allowing entry of any potential customers. The locals that organized the collection were the district chief, the local Kommandant [police chief] and the local town physician, a Jew, Dr. Litvak by name. Everyone had to contribute, whether they were able to or not. First, everyone was afraid of the Kommandant. We knew from experience that to refuse would risk the anger of the local Kommandant who could easily concoct an infraction that would cost us dearly.

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The aforementioned commission addressed our community, and Dr. Litvak explained the purpose of this important meeting. At that time, there were a few Asadnikes [Polish settlers], our “new neighbors.” One of them rose to complain in a loud voice asking why a Jew was allowed to speak on behalf of “our cause.” The district chief replied that he is a respected physician, implying a high local status. To this, the complainer retorted that he prefers to hear Stasik than the doctor.

Do you realize who Stasik was? He was a dirty Polish drunkard who never earned a penny in his life, always begging for bread.

Avraham Eliezer, Chava's son, also known by the name Graffen, had a brother-in-law named Yaakov chazan, who was a very poor man. He barely made a living from selling goods at the weekly fairs, both in the summer heat and winter frost. His livelihood was made from selling odds and ends from manufactured merchandise, and he never had money to buy these goods, so he depended on interest-free loans from such local benefactors as Mordechai Guberman, Kahas Kaufman, Eli Miratshnik, or Zelig Rofeh. One day, the late Hirsh Starosty [district chief], of blessed memory, came to chazan's house warning him to hide his goods for sale at the market because the “Executor” [tax collector] was due to visit soon.

As usual, such a warning, that is for wanting to bring harm to the Polish authorities, is subject to a significant fine. However, his good heart and love for the poor among his brethren did not scare off Hirsh.

The end of this story was that the tax collectors did come, but found nothing except for a small parcel. That same week, as Hazan prepared on the next day to attend the trade fair in Viszgorodek, the tax collector came to him again unannounced and found the parcel of goods. He ordered chazan to follow him to the Gmina [Town Hall], in order to confiscate his goods. chazan's wife, crying, asked the tax collector what he expected her to feed her children with. He replied: “Feed them stones.”

When chazan's creditors heard about the confiscation, they immediately provided him with funds to buy additional goods. Several other locals contributed funds in addition to the original creditors: Shmuel Poliak, Usher Brilliant, Shlomo Kesil, Benzion Wohl, Eliezer Kivess, and others. We also need to praise the good heart of Hirsh Starosty, also known as Hirsh Meilman, of blessed memory.

Hirsh was afraid that this tax collector, this robber, wanted to repeat the procedure that was done before. He, therefore, spoke to the tax collector and said:

“In my opinion, this man deserves to be free of tax. Come with me and I will show you what his family lives on, what they eat.”

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While sitting in the Starosty's house, the tax collector told Hirsh: “You are lucky that your daughter is here today. Otherwise, I would have had you in chains and sent away, and you would have never seen your home or your Jews again.” Hirsh Starosty, the son of Leah Hind, as he was called, was a mentch [polite person], who never failed to greet another person with a “good morning.” He greeted everyone, from young and old, always there first. He shouldered all the town's troubles and helped the locals of the community whenever possible.

One day, Hirsh came with the tax collector to Lipekh's son-in-law at home to collect taxes. The son-in-law made his living collecting old rags with the help of a wagon pulled by two old mares. When Hirsh and the collector entered his home, they saw his wife standing at the pripitchek [firewood stove] trying to boil some potatoes. The wood she used refused to ignite because it was wet. Dry wood was expensive, and this wood was the cheapest, and was wet. The wood would not ignite and the potatoes would not boil. The children were crying and wanted to eat. She tried to ignite the wood by persistently blowing on the lit twigs. Even though she was thin and pale, with each puff, her face reddened as the twigs burned.

When the two visitors arrived, she ran over and asked the Starosty what the collector wanted. Hirsh replied that he came to collect taxes. She began to cry, pleading that she does not have enough funds even to feed her children. The collector yelled at her, asking her why she had such healthy-looking red cheeks. “Do you eat everything yourself and give nothing to your children.” He added: “I now realize that the state of deficit is primarily due to the fact that Jewesses refuse to pay taxes. Of this, you, Hirsh, are the primary culprit!”

Mechel Yekil Efroim's, also known as Leider, trained himself as a cobbler. However, he failed to earn a living in his profession. He turned to Bunim Brimmer, of blessed memory, and Bentzi Reichman for help. These two bought him a horse and wagon to use for his livelihood. He was not lazy. He used his wagon under all rainy and muddy weather conditions, and the horse was not very strong. Sometimes, when his horse could not pull the wagon's load, he acted as a “second horse.”

One day, he traveled with his wagon to the village of Wolica (southwest of Lanovitz). It was a cold, autumn day. His wagon landed in a puddle and got stuck. No one in the village came out to help him. Only a few gathered and helped him scream “whoa!” and nothing more. No one wanted to get their boots wet. Mechel hit his horse to urge it to attempt another pull-out, and just at that moment, a Polish policeman, who saw him do it, showed up. The policeman slapped his face three times for hurting the horse.

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He could not stand seeing the merciful horse who was being whipped by a Jew. The incident did not end there.

This same policeman reported Mechel to the above-mentioned executor for avoiding payment of taxes. The executor asked the policeman who was that Jew and where did he live. The policeman replied that he did not know where Mechel lived but that Hirsh the Starosty would know.

The executor called on Hirsh and asked: “Do you know this man?”

“Yes.”

“How does he support himself?”

While he knew the answer already, he said: “He travels around trading needles, thimbles, thread, thimbles, for old rags.” It was actually the whole truth.

Then he asks: “When can I meet him at home?”

He answers: “At night.”

He says: “Meet me at the evening hour so we both can go over to this thief who hides so that he does not have to pay tax.”

When Mechel Fellig, as he was called, returned from his days travel, his wife met him, and told him that Hirsh Starosty had been there and, so that he should know what to do, she related that the authorities planned to confiscate his horse and wagon. Having heard the terrible news, Michel turned around, though he had not eaten all day, he left quickly, with the horse, to hide in a nearby village for several weeks. In the end, he was caught; his horse and wagon were confiscated and auctioned off at the Lanovitz fair. His mother-in-law lived next to the bathhouse. With no job alternative, she helped him get a job as a bath attendant in that bathhouse.

The family Itzi Tzop, whose real family name was: the father Yitzchak Gershom. There were three sons: Yaakov, Moshe, and Uziel Gershom. Theirs was one of the finest, most honorable families. Their livelihood was a leased flour mill in Gribova [three kilometers northeast of Lanovitz].

The father, Yitzhak, of blessed memory, preferred to pray in the kloiz [small chassidic shul] located next to his house. It was his custom after the prayers to sit and learn gemara until noontime. His eyesight was not so good, but he knew many gemara parts by heart. When he returned home midday from the kloiz, his wife, having prepared his meal, greeted him and asked him to go and wash his hands. As he turned to wash, he suddenly remembered that the miller at his flourmill may not remember where the grain pail was located. He, therefore, turned to this wife and said, “You can serve my food, I shall return shortly.” She asked him, “Where are you going?” He replied, “I need to go to Gribova, to our mill!” He ran on foot for the three kilometers and returned shortly thereafter. His soup was still warm.

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On Rosh Hashanah, Reb Yitzhak used to recite the entire prayer by heart, likewise on Yom Kippur.

His oldest son, Moshe, was a Torah scholar. When one person had a case against another, he often acted as a mediator and both parties felt satisfied.

He showed humility with everyone equally. He was interested to know how the other person was faring, if anyone needed anything, and no discussion about whatever was possible. He always helped everyone. The word “impossible” was not in his vocabulary. He intervened in things that were actually impossible for him, and went to the place where his intervention would actually make things work.

I became acquainted with his deeds because I lived in their house for a period of time.

The second son, nicknamed Yekel, as he was called, was also a scholar, a learned man who excelled in learning Gemara. He was never angry, nor did he ever speak badly about others. He was a very respectable man. He spent the entire week at the Borsikowitzer mill, a mill his family leased for many years, returning home for Shabbath only. His wife Rachel, a great woman, was the daughter of the Lanovitz Rav [chief rabbi].

The third son, Uziel Tzop, was a scholar with a good heart who celebrated at weddings and bemoaned the situation at funerals. He attended many weddings regardless of how closely he was related to the couple. His presence always added to the festivity of the celebration. And he attended many of the weddings uninvited and always brought a gift as was the local custom. He never had money because the family income from the mills went into one hand, and everyone his older brother Moshe, of blessed memory, and everyone received funding for their needs. And not looking at the income, if someone said that his shoes were too tight, Moshe saw to it immediately that the “shoes were loosened.”

With the demise of the Tzop family, we lost a respectable, Jewish component of our community.

Kehos Kaufman, the son of Bubbe Uziel, always had a great sense of humor. He loved to make jokes on order to temporarily forget our bitter fate.

The buyers and sellers of these stories were Aharon Marshak, Mordechai Guberman, Avraham Teichman, and Akiva Leibish's.

Kehos's first question one day was: “When will Poland suffer a defeat? Whoever has the answer will receive from me a good piece of smaltz herring for 10 groshen.” [The herring actually sold for this price at the time.] Mordechai Guberman replies

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that only Avraham Leizer, son of Chava, could solve this riddle. At that moment Avraham Leizer arrived and we all had a good laugh. Puzzled, he asked: “What are you laughing about?” Kehos replied that everyone wanted to know when Poland would suffer a defeat. Avraham replied that when Jews can afford to make jokes at Poland's expense, it is a sign that our state is in decline, and he is however afraid that the state would drag the Jews down with it.

Then there was a love (consideration) for one another, which had no bounds. When, in a turn of fate, one such person approached one of us merchants for an interest-free short-term loan, we would ask one another who amongst us had some extra funds to lend for several days. Quickly comes the answer: Guberman replied that he could spare the funds for eight days. He then turned to us and said: “Can one of you mind the store for a few minutes until my return?” So it always was. Such loan-need episodes were an almost daily occurrence. When a creditor was not found at his home, one looked for him on the street or in the Beis Midrash or one visited him the next day early in the morning while the person was likely to still be in bed.

I remember one such episode when Eli Mirotchnik, Eli Yidelich's, received a wagonload of lime from Podwysokie. The factory's owner was Mr. Shmarak, now living in Israel. Eli needed to pay for the load before Shabbath but he had no money. And it was Friday. If he couldn't find the funds to pay for the loan then it would have to stand for three days and then it also risked being stolen. But since it was Friday, Eli's mother figured that very likely she would receive an interest-free loan from Bunim Brimmer. She furthermore anticipated that Bunim's wife, Chaya, was likely to have arisen early that Friday morning to prepare the challah for Shabbath. In order to lose no time, Eli's mother walked over towards the Brimmer house and met Chaya carrying a pail of water from the well that was near the shul, not far from her house. She said her good mornings as usual, and asked her if her husband, Reb Bunim, was already up. Chaya replied, “He's still in bed and I have to knead the challah on Friday mornings, not him. What do you want?” Chaya asked, “and how much do you need?” Bunim overheard the conversation between the two women from his bedroom. When his wife entered their bedroom, he said to Chaya, “Chaya, see how much money is in the drawer, and the key is in my jacket.”

Bunim Brimmer was a tall, good-looking, man with a beautifully expressive, intelligent face. He never spoke idly; his sentences were well thought out before he spoke a single word.

When I first came to Lanovitz in 1912, I noticed the warm, joyous reception that everyone received daily, either a beautiful “good morning” or “with God's help,” regardless of one's professional or financial standing. I remember these warm feelings to this day. I never encountered such warm greetings in any other place.

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Moshe (Rynkowiczer) Gurvitz was a Jew who once lived in the village of Rynkowicz. I once had the task, together with a colleague, to fix the baths. An order had come from the Kremenets [Krzemieniec] Starosty [district executive] that within six weeks the community bathhouse had to be brought up to specific hygiene standards as was written in the papers.

Shalom Weissman was the community head at the time. The usual procedure in such a case was to convene a meeting on Shabbath in shul, at which experts came up with an estimate of the upgrading costs. Next, several of us fanned out into the community to collect the needed funds. When we came to Moshe Rynkowiczer he asked me: “How much have you already collected?” I replied: “We have yet to collect from such and such places.” He then volunteered, “When you will finish your collection process, I will match the highest single contribution.” And so it was, even though he was not a wealthy man.

The arrival of beggars in Lanovitz was an almost daily phenomenon, asking for donations. Besides the small change they received they also needed to eat a meal. It was general knowledge that beggars could get a meal at the house of Moshe Rynkowiczer.

Dovid Lipa, also known as Zaborsky, an honest person, traded horses and was a contractor.

One day Leibzi Shziagel came to my shop. He lived next to Chaim Yisroel who processed oats and made groats. He told me that he recently transported tobacco from Zbarazh to Lanovitz. Someone reported him to the police, and they confiscated his merchandise. He was not wealthy, nor was he a beggar. He asked my advice as to what to do. I knew the police chief was a big hooligan, but I also knew that he loved to ride horses. Knowing that Dovid Lipa always had a few beautiful horses in his stable, I immediately left the shop to visit him. I did not visit Dovid Lipa often because I had no need for horses. Besides, my brother-in-law, of blessed memory, also traded in horses. I arrived at his house as he was eating his noon meal, consisting of a beautiful, red borscht. When he saw me, he said: “Your brother-in-law should live to 120.” I thanked him for his good wishes. He then asked me to sit down and his wife immediately offered me some of the borscht soup she had prepared that day, to honor my visit. I thanked her and added that since I wanted to earn a mitzva, I did not want to trade it for some borscht, but would better want someone to help in my important mission.

I next told him why I came to see him. He replied that only an hour ago the chief of police came to him to borrow a horse,

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to ride to Borsekowitz [Borszczewka]. He agreed to speak to the police chief when he returned with the horse.

The same night Dovid Lipa returned my visit and told me that the entire merchandise was now in his house. I knew that this favor, as were other such favors, came out of his own pocket. Dovid Lipa never asked for any monetary compensation. He was a simple man, yet a good, brotherly person.

In Iskewic [Juskewice] lived a couple, Moshe and Hinda Tepper. Hinda used to drive to town with a red horse who had the good fortune to be with them for twenty years. Day in and day out she used her wagon to transport potatoes, beans, barley, and flour for bread, and even a chicken for Shabbath for well-known beggars who knew that Hinda would come from Iskewic and would bring some things for them.

Moshe Tepper's father lived in town. He was a good-looking and respected person, knowing how to read the fine print, intelligent, and a particularly good accountant.

I think he seldom made accounting mistakes because he was very careful with his duties, very patient. He felt similarly that one should eat leisurely, that slow eating was like eating two meals. He was a refined Jew, able to lead a congregation in prayer, but he never accepted the honor of leading the prayers, except on his day of yahrzeit [anniversary of a parent's death]. He also maintained that if others derived joy from leading prayer, he preferred to let them do the job. He never angered another person nor uttered any offensive words about anyone. Modest in all respects, may his memory be blessed.

Moshe Tepper's brother-in-law, Yitzchak Barg, whose wife was Minda Tepper's sister, spent WWI in captivity as a POW in Austria under the worst conditions. He and his wife moved to Lanovitz after the war and ran a store selling flour. Yitzchok always loved to polish his boots even when he had to go through muddy swamps. He even liked to lead the prayers and loved to do mitzvos [good deeds], and never declined providing an interest-free loan. His late wife, Toba, was duly proud of him when they came to ask him for a loan.

Yitzchok Melamed and his wife, were satisfied with their lot. They envied no one. They only strived to have enough money to be able to celebrate Shabbath with challah, wine, and fish. They never envied others who had more or greater conveniences. Their greatest striving was to provide their two daughters with an education.

Leizer der Griener. Leizer did not know even a page of Gemara, nor did he speak a decent Polish, yet he was a Jew with a “Jewish heart,” never refusing

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… to do a favor, either monetarily or to fulfill a task. When a person ran into difficulties with the authorities [the Komandant or the Inspector], they immediately ran to Leizer der Griener, as they called him, to ask for help. He did not lose himself in his words, despite the fact that they were a mixture of Polish, Ukrainian, and in the middle of all that, even a little Yiddish. Those whom he had to persuade of his particular case somehow understood him because his arguments were smart and a product of a sharp mind and profound thoughts. He never had to go look for that extra word in his pocket. All those who handled the cases of the Jews in town, knew that he was not a trained lawyer, that meant that this was out of his goodness and willingness to help others while not expecting anything in return. So, they gave in.

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After having lived for several years in America, my heart yearned for my dear hometown, Lanovitz. I yearned for my family and my friends. In reality, though, I wanted to feel a little of the warm atmosphere of the good Lanovitz Jews.

I saved some money and traveled to Lanovitz in the year 1913. The trip left a deep impression on me so that I remember it to this day.

I arrived on a Thursday evening. The town was wrapped in an odd quiet. The workday atmosphere of the day was over and was replaced by a spiritual calm. The stores were now manned only by women. The men of the community were washing their hands, combing out their beards, putting on their black clothes, and preparing to go to the Beis Midrash [study hall, part of the shul] for the mincha and maariv prayers.

I stood in the middle of the street feeling like a stranger. After experiencing the hub-hub of New York, the quiet atmosphere of Lanovitz dulled me. My heart beat with doubts: Who knows what is more important for mankind, and particularly for Jews? Maybe only Lanovitz?

Before visiting my only sister, Tobe Katz and her dear husband Leizer Kibes, I went to the Beis Midrash.

When I arrived, I was immediately surrounded from all sides by warm handshakes and greetings. Yoel Shokhet [ritual slaughterer] was leading a hearty mincha and maariv prayer. After the prayer session I contributed a bottle of liquor and a snack and everyone drank le'chaim, celebrating my return visit.

All those present drank a le'chaim and moved to the table, wishing everyone well. I was the center – a Lanovitz son, a person who did not forget Lanovitz. Only after that did I go visit my sister and brother-in-law.

Before I left the Beis Midrash, I told the congregants that whoever would like to hear greetings from the Lanovitz emigrants in America should come to Leizer Katz's, of blessed memory, house. At the time there were only a few Lanovitz young men who had left their wives and children to seek work in America in order to provide for their families. I knew them all and met them all in America, since they all lived almost in the same New York neighborhood.

On Friday and Sunday, my brother-in-law's house was full of visitors. People came to ask questions, to accept greetings, to find out how their relatives were doing health-wise and economically. They had a drink, a snack, they shed tears, and hoped for a better future.

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On Shabbath, after the prayers, the whole community came to my sister and brother-in-law's house for kiddush. Almost every family had delivered a kugel to their house for the occasion. After the kiddush, we sang zemiros [songs for Shabbath] and said the special grace after meals.

Later in the afternoon, I went to shul for mincha, had the third Shabbath meal, sang the special songs for the end of Shabbath [askino seudoso], and then recited the maariv prayers.

At the end of Shabbath, the congregants and I all went again to Leizer Katz's house to celebrate an evening of beautiful singing until the late hours of the night.

This was a great Shabbath, a spiritual rest, something to remember for years thereafter.

On Sunday, I was invited to the home of Rebbe Aharele. We had a wide-ranging discussion regarding yiddishkeit [Jewish life] in the distant country. I believe I gave him an accurate account of the subjects that interested him. Even simple folks of our community asked me questions, not only about golden dreams, but about the yiddishkeit in New York.

From Lanovitz, I traveled to Zbarazh [near Tarnopil] to visit my parents. The whole community came out to say goodbye and wish me a successful journey.

Many events have happened in the world since then. The world gave a shiver, maybe two, maybe three. Many terrible things have happened. Everything became confused and shaken. However, my days in Lanovitz during my 1913 visit have left a deep impression in my memory. I cannot and will not forget those warmhearted Jews, brothers of Lanovitz. The best example of a person that the world can present, cannot compare to them.

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Editor's remarks

The Yizkor books, which are being written in order not to forget the horrors of the Nazi regime, with its expression of Jew hatred as it wanted to rule the world, while during this time we are paying a bloody price for this – these books are being written in an epoch where an anti-Semitic regime exists, which along with the voice of Marxism, wants to destroy Jewishness and rule the entire world. In all this, the story of Byya Goldenberg has a special meaning. It tells that during the Czarist black regime, the government and the police still defended the Jews.

Therefore, the story is still real now.

My father was a Pankiewicz “citizen” (previously registered citizen), and therefore we had no citizen rights in Poland and did not have a Polish passport, only a “karta pobitu” (interim resident rights), and were suspicious as people from whom the Polish regime had to carefully protect themselves.

Pankiewicz was a very large town that passed from hand to hand when the Polish-Russian borders stabilized. In 1920, when the Russians entered Poland, and the borders changed, and went from Zbarazh to Horin, then Pankiewicz, with its wealth, remained in Russian hands.

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Generations thought that Pankiewicz was famous. We remembered the big river with the big lake and the giant mill with the fish catchers, which Dovid Berman, with his genius mind, got for nothing and thought he would become rich, earning enough for his children's children. But just then Poland lost it [the city], and Pankiewicz left and distanced itself from Dovid, but it became an obsessive idea for him, pushed him out of his mind, and brought him to endless trips to Prince Zamoyski and to writing memorandums to Pilsudski.

For us, the Goldenbergs, however, Pankiewicz was a well of family pride and problems, from the talks at the fireplace and arguments with the Polish regime that was hostile to us.

My father left the village as a child and could have forgotten about it. Every child who was born from him in Poland and its regime, was written off as a foreigner. In his metrics [documents] was written: To the father who was a ground worker from Pankiewicz, a child was born, and the name given is …

The reason for this is: Czar Alexander II would often dress as a regular citizen and go among the people, go around in all the far corners of his country, and listen to what the people were saying.

When he went like that to Pankiewicz, a village of thousands of non-Jews, and learned that among them there was one single Jew, he was very interested in seeing this wonder. He wanted to see this remarkable family with his own eyes, who maintained its Jewish life in their great loneliness, in an ocean of non-Jews. He also wanted selfishly to see the type of person about whom it was said that he only had money in mind and people were inferior.

He himself came to our door, knocked – this is what my grandfather recounted – and asked if he could come in. When he came into the house, he said that he had come from a distance and he did not have a penny to his soul and no money for food.

My grandmother had just finished cooking her gefilte fish for Shabbath, so she fed him with all the tasty food and gave him Russian hot tea to drink.

When the Czar finished his meal, he got up from the table and said:

“Dear Babushka, what would you like me to give you so that you remember me forever?” So, she asked who was he that he could give her such a gift. Then he told her his secret.

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She pleaded: “None of my children or my children's children should be drafted into the military and not have to eat treifus [non-kosher].”

He replied: “Even I cannot promise this. Military is military.”

“If so,” she said, “then give me a certificate showing that my family and I have permission for generations to remain in the villages of your country.”

As was known, no Jew was allowed to live in Russia in the villages. He promised her and left.

Within a week, land surveyors looked at the maps and plans, measured and measured, and left.

Some time later, a messenger from the Czar came to my grandmother and brought her a property certificate of 24 tithes [approx. 2.7 acres per tithe] of grain fields and 18 tithes of --- [?]. That means, swamp pools that provided green fodder for the animals and hay. Also, a certificate for the rights to live in that village, or a different one, forever.

This property owner's certificate had large script, written completely in gold, and the two-headed eagle of the Romanovs had gold right across it.

The letter gave her two things: an atmosphere of legends and high standing in the family's talks, and … endless problems.

As mentioned, the Czar Alexander did not exempt the son from military service, and when my oldest brother Shlomo had to register in the army, and he was small, thin, and frail, he decided to cross the border near Zbarazh and go from there to America.

Along with five other boys, he left, and arrived in a certain town, where a certain Christian lived, one who was known to be a border smuggler. They hired him and quickly left right away. That night, in the dark, the Christian led them into a deep valley where the darkness was thicker and deeper. Suddenly he gave a cry with a strong voice: “Tfrrr!” That means “stop” in horse language.

One person of the group said that it was forbidden to scream at the border, and he wondered how this Christian, a well-known smuggler, did not know this. But it was already too late.

Because of the scream, soon noise was heard around them along with the sound of clogging shoes in the deep, sticky mud of the dark valley.

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The “children” understood that they had fallen [were in trouble]. Out of great fear, my brother Shlomo ran into the nearby bushes, and Moishke, the bathkeeper, ran and disappeared. The remaining four were in trouble.

The two tried to find each other but did not. So, Shlomo remained alone, filled with fear and edginess. Suddenly he heard one person saying to another: “Vladimir, cut it! What are you waiting for!” And the second person answered: “But you're not allowed! The two ran away and we can also get into trouble!”

After that, Shlomo decided to run, and they heard his movements. One of them said: “I hear them close by!”

As he was speaking, he threw a piece of steel, and it hit Shlomo on the foot. Shlomo began to moan in pain. The bandit heard, went to grab him by his pants, and tore off a piece.

There was gold sewn into the pants - gold that his father had given him so that he should have what to live from for those first few days. That is why the seam was done by hand and was a weak one.

When the bandit felt the treasure, he forgot about my brother and shouted for joy. But in the meantime, my brother moved away and used his last energies to run.

Beaten and in pain, he went into the first lit house in the village near Wyzheradyk. That was the only Jewish house.

The Jew [who was living there] became frightened when he saw a dirty person, dressed in black and white, but when he heard Yiddish and heard the story, he let him into the house and figured he would take him home the following morning.

Meanwhile, Moishke, as he was running away, came to the police and frantically told them what happened and took them to the place [where it happened].

Shlomo was my brother from my father. His mother died during his birth. My father did not want him to suffer from a stepmother, so he married his wife's sister, afterwards my mother.

That night, my mother woke up from her sleep with a terror and a scream … and she told us about her terrible dream.

In her dream, her dead sister came to her and said:

“My one and only son is in great danger, surrounded by bandits who want to kill him, and you don't seem to care. I am running to save him. You have other children and you do not worry about him. I am running to him and am going to save him.”

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My father laughed this off, calmed her down, and told her to go back to sleep.

But soon, once again she woke up and disturbed my father's sleep. Now he became angry. “Why are you so preoccupied with silly dreams. Let me sleep!”

But my mother did not leave him alone. “She came to me again from her grave, but this time she said:

“The child is saved, go bring him home. If you think this is a dream, then I will stop your double-guarding [?] clock.””

Here my father wanted to show her the nonsense of her dreams. He angrily got up from his bed, turned on the lamp, held it in front of the clock, lit it up, and … it actually had stopped.

My father broke out in a deep sweat. His legs and hands began trembling. He quickly dressed, and went to Dusi, his best non-Jewish friend, and begged him to quickly ride him over to the Rav in Lanovits.

It was Wednesday, the day of the fair in Lanovits. It was too early to go see the Rav. So, my father went an inn. He overheard a Jew, who was sitting there, telling people that the night before, a young boy came into his house absolutely terrified, then he told the police about six young boys, and so on. He finished by saying that four boys were in the hands of the bandits, but the sixth, the small one, had disappeared.

My father fainted. Everything was true.

When he revived, he asked Itzik Shmuel to take him to Wyzheradyk, and that's how he brought Shloime home.

In the trial against the thugs the complete story came out:

Moishke notified the police commissioner and the police. In the morning, when they came to the place where everything happened, they found the piece of black material from the pants, and the piece of steel. When they went into the village they asked about Vladimir, who was considered a bandit in the village, and a “murderer for hire.”

In his home, there was a five-year-old child and an old lady who was still lying on the stove and sleeping. The commissioner placed the steel on top of the oven and asked the child:

“Where is your father?”

The child said that the father had come very early and threw a pile of gold coins onto the table, and shouted: “We became rich!”

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The mother told him to leave with the money and he left to put away the money, because the mother had argued with him.

At this point the old lady woke up and the commissioner turned to her:

“I see a piece of steel on top of the stove. Can you lend it to me? You see, my wagon broke, it sank on the way to the village, etc….”

The old lady shivered.

“No, no, my dear. I am not allowed. Vladimir will kill me if he does not find his steel bar.”

The steel bar and the piece of black pants and the mud from the valley on the pants were the obvious pieces of evidence against the bandits, the murderers, in the courts. The judge sentenced them to lifelong expulsion to Siberia with hard labor.

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