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I was a child of very poor parents, so for cheder I was sent to Motel the teacher. But the teaching went badly. I have not thought through the cause, whether I was a dense pupil, or the rebbe was a no good bully. In short—the whip did not leave my backside, and even my ears were well pounded by the teacher.

So I went “on strike” and didn't want to go to cheder. My parents, having no choice, had to change the rebbe, and they sent me to Leybke the teacher. That also from there I did not come out a scholar—that is certain.

But there came about another odd story. The rebbe's son had a bit of a workshop, and he put me to work. I was then nine years old. I “learned” half days with the father and the other half days I worked for the son. My “master” agreed with my father that he would pay me three rubles a year. It was a laughable wage, but that is what was agreed on. I worked for a full four years and never saw a groschen before my eyes.

Meantime I became 13 years old, and as it goes with Jews—I became bar-mitzvahed. My father had to buy me a pair of tfiln. But there was a question: from where does the money come? My father, as I said, was a poor man. Therefor the matter of the tfiln troubled me greatly. I did not think for long, and knowing that my boss had two pairs of tfiln, I took one pair for myself.

When I brought them home—my father thought for a long time what to do. On the one hand he was pleased, because the bar-mizvah problem was resolved. And besides, he was comforted by our religious authorities, who declared to him:

“--haganev mhganev ptur—when a person steals from a thief, there is no penalty.”

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 In honor of my honorable father, the righteous rabbi, genius in the Torah, R' Yehiel Gedalia son of HaRav HaGaon R' Henoch Hendil zt”l. Died 21 Sivan 5678 in Przytyk;

My mother the Rebbetzin, Chana-Freida, daughter of R' Shlomo-Yehudah may peace be upon him, perished in the Holocaust 21 Tishrei 5703 in Yedlinsk-Bialabzheg;
My first wife Mrs. Yochevd daughter of R' Avraham Peretz-Zeida may peace be upon him;
My daughters Chava-Neche, Ester-Galde, Bracha-Keile, my beloved friend Miriam-Malka, her only son Mordechai-Menachem Peretz, May Hashem avenge their blood;
My brother Yakov-Shmuel with his family;
My brother Shlomo-David, ritual slaughtered in Yedlinsk, with his family;
My sister Chaya Yakov with her family;
My sister Yochevd, her husband Yakil Zucker and their family;
My sister Ester-Hadassah her husband Moshe Lerner HaCohen and their family;
My sister Bracha-Galde and her family;
My brother Simcha Bunim, ritual slaughtered in Leskazshev, Miriam Liberman and their family;
My sister Miriam-Dvora and her family.

I was born in Przytyk. In the year 1912 my parents settled in Vistik. I was then still a little boy.

In the year 1920 I was married in Przytyk to the daughter of Abraham-Peretz the grandfather, may he rest in peace, Yokheved, who was called Yadzshe, may the Lord avenge her blood. We stayed in the home of her parents. We dealt in drygoods. We travelled to fairs—Thursdays to Radom, and on Mondays we went to the market in Przytyk. We did not make a living from that business.

One morning in the year 1927 there came to see me R' Itshele Apotshner, R.I.P. He was an uncle of my mother. He said to me:

__How long will you struggle like this, going to fairs, borrowing money and not making a living? Take my advice and start a bakery, it's very good to be a baker.

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trade, gave me examples from the Talmud, that great Tannaim worked in trades—R. Yochanan the cobbler….

At that time we already had two little daughters and needed an income. So I agreed on the condition that I must first pay all my debts to the merchants in Radom. Since I had no money, we packed up the drygoods and sent them away to the merchants in Radom.

Only then did I go to borrow money, in order to set up the bakery. I must remember all those who helped me out with loans without deadlines—R. Pinchas Malts and his wife (200 zlotes); R. Shmeiah Shmedro (75 zlotes); R. Moshe-Iehusha Lindenboim (200 zl, a promissory note), also R Dovid Lerner, may the Lord avenge his blood, gave me goods for the business and R. Menashe Shtengel set up the oven for me and waited for his money. In a short time we paid off all the debts.

We made a good living (we had parnose). From all groups in the population they came to us—tradesmen, merchants, Chasidim. We soon decided to give free tea to everyone every shabos morning, everyone, without difference. Very early there would come R. Iosef-Chaim the shochet, may he rest in peace, R. Moshe Apotshner, my uncle R. Itshele Apotshner, R. Yeshihu Tober. To Chasidim and tradesmen we gave tea with sugar, even with raspberry syrup.

I prayed in the Vorker Shtibel. There were no well-to-do people there, but love of friends and brothers -ahabas reim vachim- ruled. People were concerned about the well-being of others. Every Shabos after prayers someone made kiddush, in order to benefit anyone who did not have at home what to make kiddush with. At the kiddush we spent time with
Torah lessons and Chasidic lessons (divrei-torah and divrei-chasidus).

In the Vorker Shtibel both shochets prayed. We received from them kugel, kishke, and miltz. R. Iosef-Chaim the shochet and R. Dan Hofman, R. Yakov-Shmuel Vaksman, R. Hershl Farbeer, and R. Asher Vaiser were very good prayer-leaders.

With the passage of time R. Iosef-Chaim grew weaker, R. Dan Hofman went over to the Amshimover Shtibel. So R. Iosef-Chaim drew in young prayer-leaders, and by conscription, his son Leibel. Also me he made a prayer-leader. At first I didn't want to be. When he asked me why, I answered that I

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was afraid. He said that that was very good, and because of that I would davn well. So it was until the war.

Who doesn't remember the winter, in the year 1937, Shabes Parsha Beshalach? It was Sunday. There came to Przytyk the Admur of Otvotsk. He stayed in the home of Moshe Lerner. On Shabes he received his followers at the bet-medresh. Groups of people came, from Radom, Shidlovtse, Yedlinsk, Bialobzsheg. The respect for him was great, even from the youth. The Rabbin was received with great respect and honor. R. Pinchas Maltz, singing, brought a sefer-Torah from his home to the Shul.

In Przytyk there was also a Beis-Yakov Shul, onder the leadership of R. Yosef-Chaim the shoichet. Every second week people used to meet there, to make sure everything was in order. In that Shul were the best teachers. In Israel is to be found one of the teachers, R. Tsvi Waiser's daughter-in-law, from the home Sarah Boim.

Also the Vorker Rabbi came every year to Przytyk and stayed by R. Yosef-Chaim the Shoichet, and sometimes by R. Shmieh Shmedro. People went to meet him with great fanfare.

In Przytyk there was also a Gerer Shtibel with Talmud experts (talmidei chachomim), with excellent prayer-leaders; an Amshinover Shtibl, which was located in the courtyard of Zeyde's family, by R. Shmuel-Simcha, R.I.P. Lastly R. Dan Hofman lived there, a Talmud scholar, a Torah-reader and prayer leader in the Days of Awe. Mendl-Dovid the grandfather, who had the government alcohol monopoly, was not ashamed to wear Chasidic dress—on Shabes a silken overcoat. His house was really Jewish. His wife Rachel was a big charity-giver-- anonymous gifts. She cared about the sick and the poor, and for women in labor, and always asked after them.

In the Amshinover Shtibel there was a handsome young man, Yosl Hendl. He learned well and in his sweet voice he sang Modzshitzer nigunim. There was also a Biolobzsheger Shtibel, which was at the home of R. Elimelech Katz, who was a great Talmud scholar, a problem-solver, and who was interested in everyone.

I also knew the book of the chevre-kadishe in which were written the tikunes. R. Meir-Leyzer, my father Harov Iechiel Gadli (sic). The book was kept by the Gabbai Rishon. In the last ten years before the war R. Itshele Apotshner was in charge (mseder geveyn). The chevre took in about ten Chasidishe young persons. I was one of them. In Przytyk there was a beautiful shul, from the old times. In summer I davened a mincha-maariv there and on Shabes a mincha. It was a pleasant midrash-house. Half the night you would find there proprietors and tradesmen studying Mishnah, saying Psalms, and davening till 12 o'clock in the daytime.

That was Przytyk with its people, shtiblech, and organizations—until the war.

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It has already been many years since we left Przytyk. Nevertheless, our native town is deeply rooted in our hearts. We believe that Przytykers are not the exception regarding this. It seems that this is a normal phenomenon. Every person has a natural connection to their birthplace. It is possible that this is better developed in those who come from small towns.

This is certainly a matter of sentiment, of pining for the place where one saw for the first time the sky, the trees, and the world around. Then one spent one's childhood, and perhaps one fell in love with a girl or boy for the first time…

It is therefore understandable that we Przytykers believe that our town is a sort of exception with its natural beauty.

Chaya says, “I do not know a more beautiful region, blessed with all fine characteristics, than Przytyk.”

In truth, Przytyk was not large, but the surrounding area – the green meadows, the wildflowers – yellow, white, violet – giving forth its usual aroma to the entire area. It is impossible to forget the effect this had upon us when we left the stuffy house or Mottel Melamed's cheder. With one jump, we were out in the fresh meadows and fields, or in the water, and to the surrounding forests, the wooden cottages…

We must also note that taking advantage of that fine nature was often dependent on the caprices of a peasant, who would remind us at every opportunity that we were zhyds. Nevertheless, we grew and flourished socially in that environment.

In Przytyk, libraries, sports clubs, professional organizations, and political organizations such as Mizrachi, Poalei Tzion, Beitar, Communists, etc. sprouted up by leaps and bounds. All of those organizations were a form of protection against the Pilsudski-Endeke anti-Semitism.

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The older generations indeed held by the former traditions. There were Hassidim with their Hassidic shtibels – Ger, Aleksander, and others. There were religious people, simple Jews, and most importantly – Jewish workers, especially the home workers and tradespeople (chalufinkes) who leaned toward the left.

We mention them all with awe and honor, ignoring their differences. We are strongly regretful, and our heart is full of pain in that we are no longer able to see and connect with our Przytyker Jews…

Unfortunately, we will never see them again – the quiet, hearty Jews who were cruelly uprooted by the Hitlerite angel of death, and whose graves are unknown and cannot be found.

We bow our heads deeply over the unknown graves – scattered and spread out in the concentration camps, in the gas chambers, and in the ghettos!

I learnt with Mote Melamed together with the children. In those days, it was a great advancement – a mixed school for boys and girls.

Our rebbe, Reb Mote, was no loafer. He was a highly intelligent man. He taught his students Chumash, Gemara, Polish, Russian, Yiddish, literature, and history.

Mote Melamed was an exquisite, active man, with a special talent to tell children's stories. He caught our interest with his stories, which he composed himself and told in segments over many weeks. Under our conditions, Mote could be known as one of the masters of children's stories, equal to the greatest story tellers and authors for children.

I recall an interesting happening from the years 1922-1923, when we were studying with Mote Melamed.

In the winter, we used to go to cheder during the days, and also in the evenings. During those times,

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a workers' strike took place. The strikers were the older brothers of the cheder children, who demanded a raise in salary. The cheder children became infected with the strike atmosphere and presented their own demands.

They copied the older ones – the organized, elected a responsible leader, put up strike pickets – everything according to the example of the older ones.

And do you know what their demands were? A small thing: We did not want to go to cheder at night!… We saw that this was not happening in the secular schools. What – we should “work” during the day and at night?

The strike was well organized. The pickets did not let any child through. Anyone who said that they were going to cheder would have their bones broken.

The children were victorious! From that day on, we no longer went to cheder in the second half of the day.

Elections took place in 1931, during the time of the Sanacja [Sanation party] rule. The electors chose between four lists (or four numbers).

Of course, the ruling party of Marshal Pilsudski (Sanacja) took list number one. The Communists, for example, had number four. There were also Jewish lists of the Zionists, Mizrachi, Agudas Yisroel, Bund, and others.

Naturally, all the lists had their followers among whom agitation would take place. However, the number four performed deeds – as one says. We were young, dynamic, and physically strong – and all this was needed in the election campaign.

We were also enthusiasts, believing that the fate of the world was weighed on the Przytyk scale, and that the fate of the Jews of Przytyk was now at stake. For us, this was as clear as day. Having many organizational experiences and solid arguments, we had success in the world of workers – with the shoemakers, tailors, hat makers, and also with the poor small businesspeople.

One must not forget that the Communist Party, for which we were urging people to vote, was illegal. Why the Pilsudski regime

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permitted that movement to present a legal electoral list – was incomprehensible.

Therefore, many felt a bitterness, and tried to expose the members and sympathizers, and lay a hand on them. It was also understandable that the fear of falling into the hands of the police impeded us and made our work more difficult.

We also had many opponents on the Jewish street, and this was not news. The religious Jews shouted: Do not vote for the heretics! The Zionist voices accused the Jewish Communists of lacking the national feeling!

Nevertheless, we were still the strongest on the Jewish street, and we were fortunate.

How many years of prison would this later cost – that is already a second matter. I was sentenced to three years of prison; however, I remember how they congratulated my victory (and I was known in town as a “Red” and I was called “The Yellow Beast”). Even our opponents did so. They gave me a pinch on the cheek and shouted: Bravo, beast!

There was a plethora of parties in Przytyk – from the extreme right to the extreme left: Aguda, Communists, all Zionist shades. One party was not there, the Bund.

The parties helped a great deal to educate the Jews and give them a world outlook and political orientation. Each party had its locale where they held meetings, readings, lectures, or ordinary social gatherings. People would also get together in the locales to spend time and engage in discussion. In the locale, one would forget the grey, day-to-day realties,

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for there it was happy and hearty. Lads would meet girls (in those days, that was a sin).

The leaders of the various parties stood at an elevated level. Heavy debates often took place between them, but outside their locales (similar to the Hassidim, where one would not go into the other's shtibel). A Mizrachist would seldom enter the locale of Poalei Tzion to spend an evening, and heaven forbid that a Beitarovich [Beitar person] should enter the locale of Hechalutz. However, in front of the locale, they would discuss with whomever they wished. Everyone believed that they had the entire truth. The proof was – so it was written in their newspaper. However, the opponent believed exactly the opposite – and he was also correct – according to his newspaper…

The people holding the discussions remained good friends even though the discussions were very passionate. A close friend was, however, someone who belonged to the same organization^[1]. Nevertheless, incidents often took place. For example, the Beitarniks brought in a speaker to lecture in the synagogue. An acquaintance of mine, a member of Beitar, saw that too many people were coming from the opposition. A few minutes before the speech, he asked me, “Shalom, will you be disrupting us?” I did not answer. Half of the speech passed in good order. However, when the speaker posed a question and his answer did not please us, we began to sing Hatikva. Of course, everyone had to join in with the national hymn.

Such incidents were rare, however.

Another incident took place on a summer evening. We were standing in a circle in the market and discussing. Yidel Warszawsky, a Communist, said (referring to Michael Pacanowsky) that the elders have now failed, but “So many youths will be getting lost in Mapa'i^[2] – it is a great shame.” The Poalei Tzionist Pacanowsky was insulted and left the circle.

One question during the time of a reading remains in my memory. Rafael Honig (later one of the accused in the Przytyk trial) asked, “Must we build the Land of Israel with capital? How is it that you want to build a Socialist land with capital?” His solution: we do not have to build…

Every party was engaged in educational-cultural work. The

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chairperson or the counselor conducted readings and discussions, and would declare the approach of the party to various problems: Jewish as well as general worldly. The better-known members would give lessons in the local, especially in Hebrew and Jewish history. Every organization also had its library.

The organizations would frequently work together in presenting a combined list for city council elections and the Zionist congress. Chaim-Yosef Blachasz from Mizrachi did not always feel good when he had to negotiate with Poalei Zion. How does a Jewish merchant come to workers?

During the time of the Przytyk pogrom, all the parties, from the extreme right to the extreme left, cooperated in the best fashion to organize the resistance.

Even though the town was small, there were many Hassidic shtibels, aside from the Beis Midrash and the synagogue. Not only did one pray in the shtibels; but hey were open all day for whomever had time to come and study a page of Gemara, or merely peruse a book.

For Jews, the importance of the individual was at a high level. The Hassidic shtibel as well as the professional organizations contributed greatly to the formation of a society in which individuals would feel that they were not forgotten and had equality. People knew each other well in their own shtibel, in a homey group. People would relate to each other in a friendly, close manner, like their own family. In the Gerrer Shtibel, or in another holy place for example, they would not start to recite the Shacharit service on the Sabbath if Yankel^[3] was absent. If it was already the latest time to start the service, they would send a child to inform him that the congregation was waiting for him.

The largest shtibels were those of the Gerrer and Warker Hassidim. There, very pious Jews, Torah scholars, would worship. The Warkers excelled with their modesty. On the other hand, the Gerrer Hassidim were more self-assured in the merit of their Rebbe.

The Warker Rebbe, may the memory of the holy ones be blessed, once came to Przytyk. Of course, it was a great honor for the city in general, and for the Warker Hassidim in particular. They gave the Rebbe great honor. They celebrated the Sabbath with all the Przytykers,

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and then held a large Melave Malka^[4]. Then they dealt with more weekday-like matters: asking the Rebbe for advice about livelihood, health, marriage matches, etc.

The shochet came to the Rebbe with a petitionary note [kvittel]. His son Dovidl was not following the straight path as is appropriate for the son of a shochet. It had reached the point where Dovidl would ride a bicycle – not, Heaven forbid on the Sabbath, but rather during the week – instead of sitting with his Gemara. The father brought Dovidl to the Rebbe. It became apparent that Dovidl was not as modest as his father. He permitted himself to ask the Warker Rebbe: “Why are you talking so much about me. Is it a sin to ride a bicycle?” The Rebbe answered him, “No, it is not a sin to ride a bicycle, but you are traveling to sin with the bicycle.”

The council of Young Agudas Yisroel (June 1934)

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possible, people would travel to the Rebbe to absorb Jewishness and Torah for an entire year.

A substantial proportion of Przytyker Jews were merchants, but there were also tradespeople. They were simple, pious Jews who for the most part traveled to the Opoczner or Bialobrzeger Rebbe.

The Przytyker rabbi of blessed memory, himself a son of a Rebbe, had his own shtibel. He was very particular to clearly pronounce every letter, especially with the recital of Shema and the Shemone Esrei, and not to mix up a zayin with a samech, or a beit with a pei^[5].

Nathan the shoemaker, a simple Jew, was also influenced by the Rebbe, and greatly elongated his prayers. Only on the High Holy Days did the rabbi worship in the synagogue together with the common people.

Simchas Torah was a great day for the children. At night, they would go with Torah scrolls and flags with candles to hakafos [Torah processions] from the rabbi's shtibel (via Radomer Street) to the Beis Midrash. In the day, during the reading of the Torah, the young crowd would raise a ruckus. They would pinch or push those who were called up for an honor. In order to save the victim from their pranks, the rabbi himself would often stand behind the Torah reader, for only then would the group stop with their tricks.

The town of Przysucha, not far from Przytyk, was once a center of Polish Hassidim. There, the famous Holy Jew, the Opoczner Rebbe lived. He was a relative of the Yid Hakadosh [Rabbi Yaakov Yitzchak of Przysucha], and had many Hassidim in our city. My father, Yoel Honig of blessed memory, an honest and upstanding Jew, frequently traveled to Opoczno for the High Holy Days. Of course, an observant Jew did everything to educate his children in Jewishness, and would take his children to the Rebbe. To my surprise, instead of an atmosphere of dogmatism and adulation toward the Rebbe, as I had imagined, I found a friendly atmosphere there. The Hassidim, together with the Rebbe, gave the impression of a large, harmonious family. One would notice this especially at the conclusion of Yom Kippur, when they would meet with the Rebbe to discuss issues of livelihood and health, and delve into all intimate questions as if with one's best friend.

A different Rebbe, a relative of the Opoczner Rebbe, left for the Land of Israel. People

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told over the Rebbe's explanation of the verse, “And a redeemer shall come to Zion”^[6] – A redeemer shall come to Zion, therefore Jews must travel to Zion and wait for the redeemer there.

Those who frequented the Rebbe's home, and the Hassidim, would talk about the Rebbe in Israel with great admiration.

Peace and calm pervaded in the Rebbe's home. Every Hassid was treated there as one of their own. When my father returned from the Rebbe, he brought back a portion of the wonderful world and atmosphere of the Rebbe's home. Hassidim of other Rebbes, from Ger or Warka probably also brought the same feelings to Przytyk after they visited their Rebbes – strengthened faith, more Jewishness, and more proper behavior.

There was not too much going on with the mikveh for the entire week, but on Friday it was something different. On a weekday, if someone asked where the mikveh was, he would receive an answer that it is found near the Beis Midrash and synagogue, or near the stream. On the other hand, on Friday afternoon, one would only have to follow a group of Jews in order to immediately arrive at the mikveh.

The Sabbath in Przytyk began when a Jew would take a fresh shirt or long johns (the more advanced people would also take a piece of soap and a towel) – and set out for the mikveh. Often one would have to wait a bit in the anteroom, as the mikveh was full of Jews.

In the mikveh itself, one would completely cast off weekday concerns. A refreshing warmth and freshness spread over the entire body. The hot steam spread out like a thick fog, transporting the worn-out body into a higher world, into the supernal worlds of purity and holiness. The taste of the mikveh, the mood and atmosphere, had some sort of uniqueness. The wooden containers with hot water, the unusual heat inside when there was a crunchy frost outside, the thick fog – all this created a feeling of a special place and happening.

Today, with the smacks with the birch branches^[7], the sighs and groans of refreshed contentment – the disjointed, the red body became lighter and rested after the weekday twists and battles. Even a dead person would become alive in the mikveh. In this manner, the tired and persecuted

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Jews, at least one time in the week, had a brief moment of enjoyment in their sufficiently difficult lives…

As long as it was still a good few hours until the Welcoming of the Sabbath service, one could still find a place to put down the weekday clothing and fresh underwear. The water in the mikveh was still clear and translucent. However, approximately a half hour prior to candle lighting, when Jews who were running late came in larger numbers – there was no longer any place to lay down the clothes. Acquaintances and friends would place their clothes one atop the other. The [water] containers were already gone. The water in the mikveh became dark and murky. However, there was always hot water. The bath attendant did not spare any wood under the boilers.

The Jews got dressed in a hurry. The mikveh slowly emptied of the shampooed Jews with reddened faces and… became calm. The town made the final preparations for the Sabbath. Shoes were polished, the Sabbath clothes were donned, and the men went to services in the Beis Midrash, the synagogue or the shtibels accompanied by their sons.

Under the conditions that the Jews lived in the small towns, in crowded dwellings without bathrooms, the mikveh gave one the opportunity to wash up at least once per week. Ignoring its weaknesses, the mikveh not only served as a place to immerse and wash up, but also created a unique atmosphere that helped change the weekday into the Sabbath.

When our parents, dressed in fresh clothing, went to the synagogue or the shtibels with us children, a lofty mood was felt. The recitation of Lechu Neranena and Lecha Dodi was literally in the fashion of “all my bones will say, G-d”^[8] – all the limbs, all the bones, the entire body ascended to a higher world – to the Sabbath rest, the Sabbath queen.

Even though there was no movie theater in the town, and only a limited number of people had radio receivers, Jews in Przytyk would spend their free time very well. It is perhaps due to the fact that there was no movie theater or radio receivers that people were closer to each other. They often came in contact with each other. Thy came together to hear news, and then would offer their commentaries. It was enough to

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go onto the street and stand to some circle – so what would the radio matter in Polish? The main thing was the constant question: “Is this good for the Jews?” That could not be found out from Polish radio. On the other hand, in the circle in the middle of the market one could hear an expert who had read that Heint or Moment that day, and a second one who had caught a glance of the Folkszeitung. Those who only read the Tagblatt Aguda newspaper politicked in the shtibel or had their own circles. Thus, if one only went out to the street, one would immediately know what was going on in the wide world, what was going on with Jews in some or another country, accompanied by meaningful commentary and opinions from the teller.

A circle was a form of public domain where everyone had free access, It was sufficient to pass by to be able to overhear what they were talking about, or even not to overhear but to throw in one's own few words (his two cents – as it is called). Full democracy pervaded there.

Serious discussions about politics or personal matters were conducted in groups of two or three, with close friends, while strolling in the marketplace for hours back and forth. There, one poured forth one's heart to the other, or simply engaged in a discussion while absorbing a bit of fresh air.

The youth were not satisfied with the atmosphere of the town. The searched for more space, so they went out behind the city. The accepted strolling places included Podgajek, which led to the small birch forest. There one could freely sing various songs and engage in discussions. The large procession beyond the town boundary took place on the Sabbath day and in the evening. The youth did not worry very much that they had crossed the Sabbath boundary^[9]. For this reason, some Jews had to suffice themselves with a chat in the marketplace or a short walk behind the city.

Another place where the youth used to spend time on a fine Sabbath afternoon was the river and the meadows behind the synagogue and the Beis Midrash in the direction of Itche Meir's mill. The ponds, the water channel, the gates in the wide, green meadows were a unique attraction. Jews felt a bit insecure in the area. There were already farmer's

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houses with dogs – it was foreign territory. Jews went to the villages only for livelihood, to buy or sell.

A unique and particularly important attraction was the Radomska Stream that virtually embraced the town of Przytyk in its arms – especially the place on the meadow behind the Beis Midrash and synagogue, near Itche Meir's mill. On hot summer days, people went there to cool off or to catch some sunrays, which were not easy to catch in the crowded alleyways and crowded houses.

The men bathed in a special place, and the women did so a hundred meters farther. The women wore long swimming blowses and the men wore swimming trunks. On the other hand, the Hassidic Jews and lads immersed themselves in the water in their birthday suits. I recall that Yisrael Yitzchak, an Orthodox young man, told the Hassidic lads that a Jew must not be ashamed of the area or circumcision, for the Zohar calls it the Holy Bris. In the old, good times in Przytyk, one could jump in the water like a free man, without rags on one's body.

Youths would also play football, but this was mostly the non-religious ones. Orthodox Jewish children did not want to engage in frivolity or waste their time chasing after a ball. An Orthodox Jew would think in a Talmudic fashion: If they hate the ball – why are they still running after it? And if they love the ball – why do they kick it away?

There were also organized football games. For the most part, they took place within the framework of organizations or parties. Parties also organized dance evenings. The professional parties engaged in modern dance, and the Zionist parties in pioneering dance. When the Hassidic circles would rejoice, it would be with a cask of beer – they would roll up their kapotes, make a large circle, and engage in an enthusiastic dance to the tones of a Hassidic melody.

Not too many Jews knew musical notes or wee able to play the fiddle, but everyone would sing. Each had their chants and their songs in accordance with the party or political affiliation. The left – revolutionary songs, the Zionist parties – Hebrew songs, the Hassidic and Orthodox youth – Modzitzer and Gerrer melodies. They also gladly learnt

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cantorial songs from the prayers, such as for example kevakarat roeh edro^[10] or Shoshanat Yaakov for Purim.

Singing in groups where everyone could participate had a great educational meaning. It imparted a feeling of belonging to the society and raised the worth of every individual.

Everything died away with the entry of the German troops to Przytyk in September 1939.

Translator's Footnotes

1. In the previous sentence, the term for friend was the Yiddish word “friend.” In the second sentence, the term is the Hebrew word “chaver” indicating greater closeness and connection. Return
2. The labor Zionist party. The Communists would be non-Zionist. Return
3. Here, Yankel is an example of an individual rather than a specific individual. Return
4. Post Sabbath celebratory meal. Return
5. i.e. not to mix up the z and s sounds, or the b and p sounds, which are easily interchangeable. Return
6. Isaiah 59:20, also part of the daily prayer service. Return
7. Light whipping with birch branches to stimulate the body was part of the mikveh experience. Return
8. Based on Psalm 35:10. Return
9. According to Jewish law, one is only permitted to walk up to 2,000 cubits beyond the bounds of a populated area. The limit is known as the Sabbath boundary [techum Shabbat]. Return
10. As a shepherd tends to his flock – from the Unetaneh Tokef prayer of the High Holy Days. Return

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Przytyk – a small town with a large past, important events, and heroic deeds. Fifty years ago, who would have dreamt that we would have to write a memorial book for a town with several hundred Jewish family who lived there for generation after generation, and became intertwined with the Jewish history of Poland. Who could have imagined that the town of Przytyk, along with hundreds of other cities and towns, would be washed away forever?

Not even a trace of the graves of our close ones remains. Their souls ascended to the heavens together with the smoke of the crematoria. Their ashes were blow by the wind over the vale of tears of the destroyed Polish Jewry.

Przytyk has become the symbol of Poland's hooliganistic anti-Semitism in our generation. The pogrom of March 1936 was a prelude to the destruction of the Jews by the Nazis, the beginning of the great Jewish catastrophe. At the same time, the small cluster of Przytyk Jews showed the way of self-defence, which later exhibited itself during the historic trial against the downtrodden Jews. Przytyk inscribed an important page in the history of Polish Jewry.

Today, Yizkor books can be found in the homes of the survivors throughout the entire world. They serve as testimony regarding that which took place to our people – the

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people of Torah greats, of builders and shapers of Jewish and worldly culture and literature.

Therefore it is not only the commandment of “Remember that which the Nazi Amalek did unto you”^[1], may their names be blotted out, but also a duty toward the future generations, so that they will known well all the chapters of holiness and bravery of our brothers and sisters, who shouted out in the gas chambers with their final breath, “Do not forget us!”

One finds a town named Przytyk not far from the city of Radom.

The town was surrounded by water, like an island in the sea. One could only reach the town by crossing one of the two bridges, one leading to Radom, and the second, the Warsawer, to Warsaw. Not far from the town one could find forests with meadows, where children used to spend an entire spring and summer. There they played and listened to the croaking of the frogs.

There was a well in the middle of the town, in the center of the market. The children also played near the well.

I was born in that town in the year 1902. My parents were Orthodox. Therefore, I went to cheder until I was thirteen years old, and played around just like the other children.

Summer came. We children looked forward to it for the entire winter, so that we could breathe a bit of fresh air. The dampness and the smoke in the homes and the cheder choked us for the entire winter. As soon as the first rays of the sun shone, they opened up a new world for us. We frequently sneaked out of cheder and danced around outside, until the fear of the whip led us back to the cheder.

We awaited the warm days of Tammuz, when the rebbe would go with all the children to bathe in the Tameh – as we called the rivulet. We could barely sit in cheder for the few hours, because our heads were focused on the bathing. How great was the joy when the rebbe put down the whip, and shouted, albeit with a smile.

“Come shkotzim, let us go bathe…”^[2]

We interrupted our games under the table in the middle of learning, with the cards that we traded with each other.

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We jumped through the meadow with glee, quickly got undressed, and were in the water as quickly as possible. We often heard the rebbe's shouting:

“Shkotzim, it is deep there, don't go there!” as he threatened us with his whip. Later, we heard, “Out of the water. It's already enough.”

The Mayerfeld family, among the first olim to the Land of Isael from Przytyk

We played soldiers and did somersaults in the meadow until late at night. We were tired when we came home, and went to bed and slept until the sun woke us up with the knocking summoning us to the synagogue every morning.

In 1912, I studied in the Yeshiva that was created

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thanks to our new, young rabbi, Rabbi Shapira of blessed memory. He was immersed in Torah day and night. I recall how great my joy was, how proud I was in comparison with my friends, when the rabbi pinched me on the cheek and said, “This is your ardor, a good student!” I blushed as I told this to my parents.

When the First World War broke out in 1914, my father removed me from the cheder, I studied all day int the Beis Midrash. I also began to take interest in business at that time. I would already travel with my father for business, and had completely different thoughts. I had a desire to venture into the wide world, far from home. I did not want to live my life in the tiny town, which does not know the delights of a person in a large city. I would often go about ponderously, and immerse myself in the fantasies of lovely pictures. More than once, I would receive a slap from Father for being lost in thought. He would say, “A child must not be lost in thought. You must study and not have in mind foolishness.”

In the month of Tammuz 1915 (June-July), we were expelled from the town and went to Radom. We arrived on a Friday night. We did not have where to go, so we spent the night at the gate. We obtained a dwelling early on Sunday.

When I went out into the courtyard and saw how the children were playing soldiers with horses, it evoked a pining for home, where I had also played that a few years previously. Something branched off to that child life… I spent a long time pondering, until I was called into the house to eat. I sat on a box because there were not enough benches for everybody.

We were first able to return home to our town in the month of Av (August) 1917^[3]. The marketplace was overgrown with grass. The houses appeared bitter and black. In some, a portion of the bricks had been ripped apart from shrapnel. In every house, there was an upheaval from the searches of he soldiers.

On the first day, I was afraid to go out on the street at night due to the dark fear that pervaded all around, as well due to the fact that

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few people had returned. Later, more families returned, and the town began to feel homelike. The children again rejoiced in the meadows and the ponds, which they had not seen for two months. These became even more beloved, and they played there also to make up for the time that they were not in Przytyk.

In 1917, I went out for the first time to conduct a bit of business, even though [at first] my parents did not permit this, for they did not want me to become a merchant. They preferred that I sit in the Beis Midrash. My father agreed with me a bit. I took risks to bring in the merchandise, and my parents were happy.

In the winter of 1918, I was studying in the Beis Midrash. I studied with my father after Mincha and Maariv. At 2:30 a.m., before dawn, my friend would wake me up to go and learn with the rabbi. On Thursday, I would remain awake in the Beis Midrash the entire night. I would often fall asleep over the book. However, I did not learn this way for very long.

We were robbed that winter. My parents took this greatly to heart. My mother, who always sat at the table in a happy mood, no longer had a smile on her lips. She became ill a short time after the theft due to the great agony of having the results of her effort and hard work over many years stolen by the thieves.

In Tevet of the year 5679 (1919), when my mother was lying sick, I did not leave her bedside. I looked her in the eyes, took care of her, and did everything that her hand gestured to me and that she desired. I did not sleep for a week. On Sunday, they dressed me up in a cloak and sent me to the rabbi. When I came to him, I was choked with tears, and I could not answer anything that he asked. I could only say three words, “It's very bad.”

When I arrived home, I could no longer recognize my mother. She no longer talked. I fell upon her and kissed her on the forehead. My sister came and told me that my mother had been asking about me all day. I wept strongly.

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Before dawn, my father hired a carriage and asked me to go to Primna [Promna], four verst^[4] from Białobrzeg, to summon the local doctor. There was a great frost outside. The skies clouded over, the wind blew and whistled, so that one could barely hear the clanging of the carriage wheels, atop which the wagon driver was sitting in a thick spencer jacket, the doctor with his large fur coat, and the lonely child who was constantly urging the wagon driver to drive faster. A great terror overtook me. I sat with closed eyes and felt that demons were dancing around in the darkness of the night in the vast fields. As we were already on the bridge, my heart palpitated faster. I wanted to see my mother already.

As I entered through the door with the doctor, they brought me in, because I could not move on account of the great frost. They told the doctor to go to my brother, who was also ill. I immediately noticed that something had happened. I fell down in a faint. They did not bring me into the house, but rather sent me to my brother. I did not know what was happening to me. Then they told me that I had been siting on a bench near the door, and I had supported my head on the wall.

When I came to, I shouted, “I want to see my mother. Take me home!” Two Jews took me by the arms. When I entered the house, I shouted out, “Why was I not present to see her final smile?!…”

My mother was buried on 28 Tevet 5679 (1919). I left the cemetery as a young mourner, and went home with a broken heart. They told me to sit on a small bench and remove my shoes^[5], and gave me a glass of tea.

My father became grey from grief. He no longer wanted to go to do business. I had to leave the Beis Midrash completely and become a merchant. I forgot the childhood dreams of becoming independent, for there was nobody other than my sister, who was engaged to a young Torah scholar from Radom. He had been chosen for my sister by my mother while she was still alive. He was a poor young man, constantly sitting and learning.

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Personalities Who Are No More

My town is etched in my memory so much that it always swims before my eyes.

The small houses, the market with the well where gypsies used to gather in the summer to warm up in the sun; the green meadows on both sides of the river that extended to the large water mill; the narrow pond where we children used to cut calamus to decorate the houses at Shavuot time.

I see the small-scale businesspeople running to the stalls to lay out their merchandise in the market. On the fair day on Monday, the farmers from the surrounding villages would come to purchase various articles and sell their products in the city.

I see Feiga-Tzirl the fruit lady: in summer with a basket of apples and in the winter with a pot of warm beans with a measuring cup in her hand, going from cheder to cheder calling out with a hoarse voice, “Hot, warm beans!” The cheder children would haggle to get a few more beans. Not everyone had the coins, so they waited for the kindness of others to enjoy.

I hear the voice of Meir-Yechiel the city waker, who used to go around before dawn, when the stars were still in the sky, calling out with his melancholy voice that echoed through the town, “Jews, arise to the service of the Creator!”

The weak light of the kerosene lamp could be seen through the cracks in the shutter. Around the long benches and tables in the Beis Midrash, Jews were reciting Psalms, pouring out their bitter hearts to the Creator of the World, asking for mercy for their difficult situation.

I see them, the preoccupied tailors and shoemakers at their work, engrossed in their ideas of “When you eat through the labor of your hands”^[6]. The elderly Avraham the water carrier with his two buckets over his shoulders, hunched over, going step by step, carrying them carefully so no drop of water would spill, heaven forbid. One should not be able to complain that the buckets were not full. He thanks G-d for his daily livelihood, and does not forget to stop into the Beis Midrash for Mincha [the afternoon service] to snatch a kedusha^[7].

Who does not recall the shmatsasz^[8] of the town, Yisrael Knajtszer, who used to do business with his cloths every day. He would drive with horse and wagon over the cobblestones in town, and through the surrounding villages, singing folk songs.

That is how one bore the yoke an entire week, so that on the Sabbath,

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some would have bread with herring, and others challah with fish. One already prepared for the Sabbath from Friday at noon – the mikveh [ritual bath] and bathhouse played an honorable role. The girls had already made up their hair nicely. The grandmothers and mothers adorned themselves with head coverings and hair bands, as they prepared to light the candles.

The walk to the synagogue, the Beis Midrash, and the various Hassidic Shtibels – some with silk kapotes, perhaps pitted and sweaty, some with a frayed, ripped kapote, and the round or pointy streimels – this all imparted a unique grace to the arriving Sabbath Queen.

Yosef-Chaim the Shochet [ritual slaughterer] sang the melody of Lecha Dodi^[9] with his fine voice, accompanied by his children. The tunes burst forth from the open windows of the Beis Midrash and pierced the Heavens, up to the Throne of Glory. The Sabbath atmosphere pervaded in all corners of the town. Meeting of the lads and girls also took place on the Sabbath: the stroll in the forest, the reading of the new storybooks, the singing of the workers songs.

The third Sabbath meal was celebrated in the Hassidic Shtibels around long tables, covered with a white tablecloth, where a morsel of bread was placed before everyone. David Shochet sang Bnei Heichala Dichsifin^[10], assisted by the Hassidim who swayed back and forth.

The mothers and grandmothers sat in the houses, bedecked with warm kerchiefs, looking for a star through the frozen windows, so they could recite “God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, send us, beloved G-d, Master of the World a new, good week of health and livelihood.”

People were now returning from the Shtibels and Beis Midrash. Havdalah was received with great joy and hope. The wax candle, braided with four flames, lit up the dark, poor houses with the light of comfort for a new week. The Hamavdil Bein Kodesh Lechol hymn was sung with joy. Some drops of the cup of wine were spilled on the table, and then placed in the pant pockets with the hands – an omen for a good livelihood and bounty for the new week.

All these people and images now go through my memory – you see the vivid march before you, hear their steps, their sighs…

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The Youth Awaken

After the First World War, which brought a great change and ferment in all areas, the way of life in the town also changed. New thoughts began to circulate especially among the youth. Here and there, groups were formed to deal with the news from the big city, which was brought to us and stormed through the Jewish street.

Our town had no industry, and there were no great bourgeoise people. Therefore, the class war did not have a voice. For the most part, the tradesmen and handworkers did not hire any workers. However, the children, raised in those homes, breathed the air of the outside world – especially those who worked in the big cities and came home for the holidays, bringing with them interesting greetings from the wide world.

Thus did we begin to hear the new works songs, which were sung enthusiastically during the Sabbath strolls in the forests and in the workshops.

At the same time, especially after the Balfour Declaration, the Zionist movement was set up. A large number of the youth were active in the Keren Kayemet and Keren Hayesod. After a lecture by Pinchas Fogelman, who was brought in specially from Radom, the foundations of the Zionist organization in the town were laid.

In time, new groups of Mizrachi, Aguda, the left Poalei Zion, and later – the Communist party, which attracted many fine lads and girls from middle class households.

Things were homey in the town. There were places to spend one's free time. One dreamed of social liberty, a better morning for the Polish soil. Another dreamed of traveling to the Land of Israel, becoming a chalutz [Zionist pioneer], building highways and living under fig and date trees. The questions caused clashes, and each side tried to convince the other with signs and portents. Oftentimes, beatings were not lacking. It is appropriate to mention that once on Lag B'Omer, when the Zionist youth conducted a flower day to raise money for the Keren Kayemet, the opponents wet with India ink the new coat of Rachel Mayerfeld, who was participating in the collection for the Keren Kayemet with her friend Rachel Dozers. That painful event caused more bitterness and friction.

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We did not have a large library at that time. It had about fifty books, which lay in a box in Kurant's house. We would take out another book in a series. I remember that when I came, Itshe Kurant the librarian sized me up from top to bottom and then broke out in a speech:

“Here, you have the book Olam Haba [World To Come], approximately thirty pages. You must watch out not to tear the pages, heaven forbid.”

I took out the book Ahavat Zion by Mapu, in Yiddish, for the second time. After a brief time, the library grew and moved over to the premises of Yosef Dozers. We also held the party meeting there.

Aside from this, there were clubs and gatherings in private homes – at Yosef Lewenthal's, who was considered the Maskil [enlightened one] of the town, and at other people's homes. There, a group of boys and girls from well-off homes would gather every Sabbath, for he had newspapers from which to read about the events of the week. His wife Chaya-Eidel used to serve sweets and Sabbath fruits. Thanks to those gatherings, many youths learned about the important events of the world, especially on the Jewish street.

The youth had long dreamt of performing in the theater. However, there was no person who more or less understood the matter. Therefore, the question arose: where does one find a hall?

When Yosel-Shmuel David's (the son of Shmuel-Davdi Meizels, a melamed [teacher of young children] and rabbinical judge in Przytyk) returned to town after spending many years in the wide world – the matter began to stir. It was known that Yosel was an intelligent lad, and as it was said, he had already performed in some theater. Thus, under his direction, a group of youth, together with Velvel Goldszewski, founded a drama club to perform various plays. First, King Lear by Y. Gordin was selected. Collecting the ensemble was no easy matter. Finally, it was put together. A hall was also secured – Kurant's wedding hall in Itshe Spirtos' house.

Finally, after several months of regular rehearsals, it was announced that the first theatrical performance in the town would be performed on Saturday night, which

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caused tension and eagerness. Not everyone was able to purchase a ticket, so a group watched through the windows or the cracks in the shutters.

Suddenly, loud laughter was heard during the performance. What had happened? Yosef Mayerfeld, dressed up as a woman, was playing the role of Chaya. Suddenly, his dress fell down, and as he was lifting it up, the wig fell off his head. The audience burst out in laughter. It did not end. A great commotion broke out in town in the interim:

“Does it make sense? The evil spirit of the theater has taken hold of us in our town?” shouted Shaya the communal administrator in front of a crowd of Jews. “We must no longer permit this. Rather, we must extinguish the fire before it spreads. We must uproot it. We must place a ban on the transgressors. We must stop the Torah reading on the Sabbath^[11].”

The surrounding crowd shook their heads and asked, “What are we doing? It will, heaven forbid, lead our children off the path,” one of them said. However, time did its work. The desire to enjoy theater grew with each day.

It was not long before placards appeared in town announcing that the famous troupe headed by Morris Lampe^[12] would be coming soon. They would perform the famous play, “Tevye the Milkman” of Sholom Aleichem. They were put up in the wheat storehouse in our home on Zachente.

The day of the performance was a celebration in town. The audience came to witness the wonder. More were outside than inside – “Why pay for a ticket?” many claimed, “One can also hear from outside, and one can see the actors during the intermission between one act and the next, when they will come outside to catch a bit of fresh air, for there is not a great deal of space behind the stage.” This is how the crowd enjoyed itself…

Theater became more and more entrenched in town. Later, other troupes came, and the local drama club performed from time to time. A better hall was obtained, in the firefighters' hall, which could contain a significant number of people. The stage was set up appropriately, and gave the theater a more honorable appearance.

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A Wedding in Town

In the middle of the market stood a low building with a large gate leading into a yard, in which the house of Reb Yankel the wealthy man, the hide merchant in the town, was located.

Reb Yankel was of average height, with a small beard, somewhat broad shouldered. He was involved with business day and night… One could find him at times strolling in the yard, which led to the river.

Already a few days after we have dealt with Reb Yankel's house in the yard, we go inside… They are preparing for the wedding of the wealthy man's only daughter with the rabbi's son, which will take place two weeks from Tuesday.

The bride already goes out onto the street very rarely. Therefore, her girlfriends come to her. They discuss with her that which a bride must know, that which everyone must have. She shows them the outfit. They wish her everything good. They talk a bit – and slowly go away.

Everyone is waiting for the Tuesday when they will see the joyous occasion, such a wedding!

With the first rays of the sun shining through the cracks in the shutters, one could catch a glance of the people in Reb Yankele's house. Today will be the wedding. Soon, one will hear the chopping of meat and fish.

The entire town had now awakened. The sun was high in the sky. A festive mood pervaded all over. A joyous smile appeared on every face. Young and old could be found on the street. People whispered to each other about the wedding, for which everything was prepared…

Everything was ready at the home of the in-laws. Women wearing aprons were going back and forth. Mendel the waiter with half-sleepy eyes was running around with a tray in his hands and he sneaked a piece of fish. He coughed as he was doing so, so that nobody would notice.

The mother-in-law was running in and out, carrying something under her apron. Neighboring housewives came ostensibly to borrow something, so that they could see the preparations for the wedding.

The father-in-law was sitting in the house. He placed the liquor on the table, thinking about whether it would be too little for the large crowd who would be coming from the groom's side. He looked at the clock regularly. “Gosh, we do not see them yet,” he thought.

Suddenly, the trotting of horses was heard. With exceptional

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speed, a pair of horses galloped through the market like lions hitched to a wagon. They stopped right in front of the in-laws' house. Voices were heard from all sides: “The musicians are already here! The musicians have arrived!” Everyone, from young to old, was out on the street. Urchins gathered around the four musicians. The Blind Berl with his bass was among them. He clanged a cymbal toward the gathering. His roar was heard, “Shkotzim, leave!”^[13] The wagon driver cracked his whip and chased away the youngsters who were grabbing on to the wagon. He also went into the house where the in-law was treating the musicians to cake and liquor.

The market was full of people who came to wait for the groom. A gallop was heard – the groom is traveling! Shortly, one saw the in-law running and shouting, “The wagon, where is the wagon?” Voices were heard from all sides, “The groom is traveling! The groom is traveling!” Several wagons were standing prepared. Lads with curly peyos and shiny kapotes were seen from all the alleyways, running breathlessly toward the wagons. One has the collar sticking backward out of the shirt, and another has the hat leaning to a side.

They jump onto the wagons, holding on to their hems, with the tzitzit fluttering in the wind. The wagon driver cracks the whip, and the wheels clang again through the market.

A wagon is seeing on the bridge. Soon, a commotion arises, “The groom is traveling!” everyone stands up. Women grab their children and run out the door. The in-law calls the musicians, who come outside, one with a roll in his mouth, and the other with a piece of meat in his hand, as they run toward the bridge.

A shout, a commotion. Deaf Rivka is running and shouting, “Is it burning? Where is it burning? Is it being watered?…” Slowly, the voices grow louder, claiming that it is burning, and one must deal with it. However, it soon becomes clear that this was a mistake. It is not burning, and one is not dousing it. The groom is also not traveling, but rather some ordinary wagon is approaching from the Radom highway. Everyone bursts out in laughter. In the meantime, the musicians have eaten up what they were holding in their hands. The girls have begun to comb their fluttering hair. However, the town does not stop hearing the commotion, “The groom is traveling! The groom is traveling!…”

Tricksters are running back from bathing in the river. They also say that the groom is traveling, as they make a mischievous whistle.

Suddenly: crash! A carriage is galloping over the bridge, causing

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the stones to vibrate. A whip cracks. The squeak of the fiddles and the sound of the trumpet echo through the street. Out of fear, the goats return to the meadow near the synagogue and turn their bearded goat heads to see what is happening…

The wives stand on the doorsteps so as to better see. One points with her finger, “There he is!” A shout is heard from the in-law, “In a propitious time!” The groom is now here. The wagons with the lads appear, accompanied with singing and shouting.

From the tall communal building, the nicest in the town, where the police station is also located, the scribe, the female scribe, all the police, and the assistant with a feather [pen] behind his ear, all run out. They watched as two young lads took the groom under his arms – a wet face, a small beard, and a silk shawl over his shoulders, leading him to his lodging. That is, where he would be staying. The group of police officers roll with laughter…

The wagons with the women travel to the in-laws' house – the first one with the groom's mother, wearing a hair band, a pair of long earrings, a black silk dress, and velvet over her shoulders. She smiles to the other women and points with her finger and children who are running about.

The speculative thinker Yosele, the only newspaper reader in the town, the know-it-all in world politics, is standing on the street, holding a pair of binoculars. A group of people stand around listening to him speaking and gesturing with his hands, raising his shoulders on occasion. He states that this is a bit too much for today's times. Once it was different. In every time it is a big thing. Today, one must a bit… He did not end his words as one said, “You must understand yourself…”

The crowd realized that it is already getting dark, and they start to run straight to the synagogue for the Mincha service.

It was a calm summer evening. There was a cool evening wind. Everything gets dark. Girls dressed in white hurry to the wedding that will be taking place at Davidche's hall. There is the shouting of the children around the windows and doors – for they want to go inside. However, under no circumstance would Beinishl the porter let them enter. He pushed them off with his stick and cursed the youth who did not leave.

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It was still calm on the street. Older people remained in their homes. Girls and lads stood on the street, and some of them waited indoors until the wedding ceremony.

There, at the wedding, the elderly Reb Avraham was sitting near the groom, smoking a cigarette. Lads joked around the table. The young man Berish sat near the groom. Close to him were other lads bending their heads to hear the news. Berish was sweating and gesturing with his hands, demonstrating his expertise in world politics.

Everyone then came to attention, as if they were sprayed with cold water. The hoarse voice of the wedding entertainer [badchan] was heard. The musicians entered. Everyone understood that the time had come to accompany the groom with song.

Mottel-Chaim the musician played his fiddle. At times, one heard a joyous tune, and at times a sound emanated that shouted and cried like a person begging for mercy. He waved his hands toward the group, and they understood what he meant, even the blind Berl.

The band began to play a march, and people lost their patience until the march ended.

Then the entertainer shouted, “At a fortuitous time!” The women began to crowd into the place where the bride was sitting, dressed in a white wedding gown. Then a command was heard, “Make way, the groom is coming!”

The groom lad, pale and weary from fasting all day, arrived with slow steps, also because of the crowd. He approached the bride, and, with trembling hands, covered her head with a veil. The entertainer sang poignant verses about the bride, regarding the fate that awaited the young couple. The women wiped away tears, sighing and sobbing, so they did not hear the wishes, “You should live to see this with your own children.”

The groom, followed by the bride, were finally led to the wedding canopy [chupa]. A group of youngsters were running about, in front of the musicians. The women and men, with candles in their hands, made their way in rows to the synagogue courtyard, where the rabbi conducted the entire ceremony.

This was followed by the feast, along tables set with all sorts of delicacies. The crowd was not only treated with good food, but also with the performance of the band, and with the entertainer's verses in which he also announced the list of gifts. Later, the

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Mitzvah dance took place^[14], with joy and good wishes to witness future happy occasions…

One fine day I went to my father of blessed memory and told him that I wish to go to Israel. “What does that mean?” he asked, “Will you leave me, my only son, the crown of my head? What is happening to you, my child?”

“Father,” I said calmly, “I have been having this thought for a long time already, but I did not want to bring it to my mouth. Only now that I have found out that a group of chalutzim [Zionist pioneers] from Radom is preparing to go to the Land of Israel, I decided to take the opportunity to go with them.”

Tears appeared in my father's eyes: “If this is your desire, perhaps it is also the will of G-d. However, I will do nothing without the rabbi's agreement.”

Therefore, we traveled to Rabbi Shlomole in Radom. My father handed him the petition with the donation, and, trembling, waited for what the rabbi would say. Something happened there which was later etched in my memory for a long time.

When the rabbi took the petition in his hands and was engrossed in it for a while, he said, “Yes, Chaim David the son of Rivka is the acronym of cheder. You will be taken into cheder (in common parlance, this meant ‘in prison’^[15].” Reaching for my father's and my hands, he said, “Go to life and in peace.”

My father did not understand the rabbi's words. “What did he mean?” Later, it became clear that I was indeed taken to “cheder” – indeed twice.

The war between Poland and Russia broke out several weeks later. During that time, the Jews of Poland endured a great deal of fear, and this caused my father to agree to my desire to leave Poland. Finally, the day came.

I parted from my sister with tears in my eyes and joy in my heart. It is difficult to describe the moments of parting. My father and I sat in a wagon and traveled to Radom. From there, we went by train to

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Sosnowiec, where we remained a few days and waited for the designated border smuggler.

The designated night to steal across the border was a dark one. I was brought with several others to a field, overgrown with tall grass. We were ordered to lie down, to not utter a word, to not move, until we would travel further. A light burst through the darkness from a distance. There, from the other side of the town of Mysłowice, I crossed over to Kattowitz (Katowice). There, I met up with many youths from Radom, who had already been there from before, and were waiting to depart to the Land of Israel. A committee coordinated the work with the local community, and concerned themselves with providing food for the journey for the departing people, as well as in maintaining order in the camp housing several hundred people.

On August 17, 1920, the camp was surrounded by Silesian protective forces and police officers in green uniforms. They ordered everyone to ascend the trucks, and took us to the station. After sorting out the held people, they loaded us on trucks and transferred us to the Polish side. After a few days of traveling back and forth, they placed us in a fortress camp near Krakow for escapees.

This was already my second episode of “being taken into cheder.” I wanted to see my father very badly, or hear about him. Unfortunately, nobody could come from outside. They dealt with us very strictly, for the Polish authorities knew that there were army deserters among those being held.

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For this reason, they interrogated everyone. Since I was young at that time, below military age, they put me in a separate barrack together with elderly people. After ten weeks, my father was permitted to extricate me from there, and I returned home to our town. I once again became involved in work for the Zionist organization. Much had changed in Przytyk during the time. Many of my friends had moved to larger cities. The meetings of the youth were frequent and interesting. The youth spread out to the wide world – some to study in Yeshivos, and some to work if factories. The discussions between the members of the parties were a major event in the day-to-day life.

On February 22, 1922, I was chosen as a delegate to the region conference of the Keren Kayemet [Jewish National Fund], which took place in Kielce. Later, I was chosen as the delegate to the regional conference of the Zionist Organization in Radom, which took place on May 12, 1922. This gave me more inspiration to go to the Land of Israel.

Finally, the time for my second trip arrived. This was on July 22, 1924 (20 Tammuz), on the 20^th yahrzeit of the great Zionist leader Dr. Binyamin Zeev Herzl. On that day, I was supposed to be taking part in the collection for the Keren Kayemet, but I had found out about a group of lads travelling illegally that day. I connected with them. I had to leave everything at the last minute, and even my closest friends did not know about it. At the first sun rays through the cracks in the shutters, I hurried outside, so I would not be late, heaven forbid. There were no people on the streets, aside from a wagon with a farmer who was waiting for me to take me to Radom. From there, I was to go to Warsaw.

I went into the house, and took the small valise. I parted from my sister with tears in my eyes (my father was no longer alive at the time), and I boarded the wagon.

The wagon traveled with ease, and I was immersed in my thoughts. My gaze was toward the new land, the dream of all my years.

Now I was already in Radom. I set out for Warsaw that same evening. I parted from my wife and her parents, who accompanied me to the train.

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After remaining a few days in Warsaw, I traveled to Danzig together with Velvel Wasserman of Radom. We became very friendly, and stayed together throughout the entire trip. From Danzig, we set out for Trieste (Italy) with a group of twelve others.

We arrived in Trieste on August 4, 1924. Our ship had set sail a few hours earlier. Therefore, we had to wait a week for another ship.

On Friday, August 15, 1924, after waiting impatiently, we boarded the ship. The crowding was great, for everyone had to be inside early. In the evening, the ship sailed near the coast. We heard the Hatikva being sung with great enthusiasm by a group of chalutzim.

The days were nice, and the sea calm. We were approaching the coast of the Land of Israel. A large number of the passengers did not want to leave the ship's deck, for everyone was eager to see something, especially the group of chalutzim who did not stop singing. We finally saw the top of the Jaffa lighthouse. From there a small boat with a few people aboard came toward us. This was the government control.

For unclear reasons, they did not let us disembark at Jaffa, but rather led us to Haifa. We arrived at the coast of Haifa that same evening, August 21, 1924. Late that night they took us on small boats to quarantine near the Shemen factory. Two days later, we were free. Wasserman and I immediately set out for Tel Aviv, where we had several addresses of acquaintances from Radom.

Tel Aviv was being built up and was expanding. The few streets with two story houses and gardens gave us the impression of a small town. Herzl Street, which began at the tower where the train would go to Jaffa, until the gymnasium, lent beauty to the area. This was the strolling area, and the place where people would meet every Friday night.

We had our first meal with Chana Meizels in a small house on Nachalat Binyamim. There were long tables, baskets with bread, and an earthenware pitcher with cold water. We could purchase a ticket for two piasters,

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and could then eat whatever we wanted. Many were satisfied with a bowl of hot borscht for a half a piaster. Bread was unlimited.

We spent the first Sabbath with Avigdor Bokman of blessed memory from Radom. He led us to the place where the huts of his acquaintances were located. This was on a hill of sand where Maze and Balfour Streets are located today. The howling of the jackals at night instilled fear in all the inhabitants of the area. We went to Shmuel Naidek's hut, which was the nicest and largest, the place where every newcomer from Radom and the region met up. Everyone felt at home there, and was warmly taken in by Mrs. Naidek, peace be upon her. We drank Israeli wine every evening and enjoyed the Israeli fruits. I do not recall how long the night lasted, for on the second day, my friend Wasserman told me that I was taken home in a wagon in a drunken state.

With that meeting, I began to setup roots in the Land…

Monument in the Przytyk cemetery, 1930

1. A paraphrase of Deuteronomy 25:17. Return
2. Generally, an insulting term for a non-Jew, but here used as an endearing insult to naughty, rumbunctious children. Return
3. This may be a typo in the original, and I believe from the text below that the year was still 1915. Return
4. An old Russian unit of measurement. Four verst is about 2.65 miles. Return
5. Shiva observances. Return
6. Psalms 132:2 Return
7. An important part of the daily public prayer service. Return
8. Seemingly from the word shmate – a piece of cloth or a rag. The term her would mean the “cloth man.” Return
9. One of the prayers of the Sabbath evening service. Return
10. A hymn for the third Sabbath meal. Return
11. Interrupting the Torah reading on the Sabbath at the synagogue is a sign of extreme communal protest. Return
12. See http://www.museumoffamilyhistory.com/yt/lex/L/lampe-morris.htm Return
13. Shkotzim is a derogatory term for gentiles, here referring to the street urchins. Return
14. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitzvah_tantz Return
15. Cheder commonly refers to a religious elementary school, but the word itself means ‘a room.’ Return

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