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Episodes and Legends

In 1914, when World War I began, the Russian Army crossed the Austrian border and took the town of Zalozce. They slandered the Jews, saying that they had burned the military hospital. Then they arrested all the Jews and shipped them out to Vishnevets. There were no jails big enough in Vishnevets to hold so many Jews, so the Russians confiscated the Jewish schools and settled them there.

At that time, at the beginning of the war, all business was interrupted: there was no money, and you couldn't borrow; anyone who owed money didn't repay it, and many Jews remained without a single penny. The situation was very critical, and the Vishnevets Jews had to sustain the Zalozce Jews for weeks with whatever they had. They were given food and drink and clothing until they were sent on to Russia. The Zalozce Jews said that if the situation were the other way around, they would not do as much….

The Russian army sent some of the Zalozce Jews off to work around Kolodno and Zbarazh. Meanwhile, the Days of Awe were approaching, and the Russian army had permitted a few Jews to travel to Vishnevets for the holidays. Among those Jews was one by the name of Shmuel Zolozitser, who stayed with Yosel Ostrer.

Every year at R' Itsi's Synagogue, an Oleksinets Jew named Yisrael Shochet was the cantor. When the Russian Army approached Oleksinets, the Jews fled to Austria (Yisrael Shochet among them), so that R' Itsi's Synagogue had no cantor.

A few days before Rosh Hashanah, this Shmuel Zolozitser came to R' Itsi's Synagogue and said, “I can be the cantor,” and appealed to them: “I'll pray for you. I don't want any money, I only want you to give me food, but I won't eat for free.” The Jews at R' Itsi's Synagogue l had a little meeting: how could someone they didn't know lead the Days of Awe services? It remained to send Matus the Beadle to talk to him and find out whether he was suitable to lead the community in prayer.

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Matus the Beadle returned, and they asked him, “What did you find out?” Matus shrugged his shoulders and didn't want to talk. “Matus, tell us, what did you find out?”

“I don't want to say anything bad about any Jews, but when I went to him, I found him sleeping face down. This is not a Jewish trait!”

They accepted Shmuel Zolozitser as the cantor, and he prayed well and with much feeling.

I recall what I heard from honorable and observant people in Vishnevets about an event concerning the famous rabbi, Rabbi Yosele, may he rest in peace, that remains etched in my mind and a story that begs to be repeated.

After a drowning victim was found in the town, the rabbi was promptly arrested, and the police chief dragged him by his beard through the streets to the jail.

Twelve men who were owners of stone buildings and houses got him out on bail, posting their buildings as a guarantee for the rabbi's return if he were not released from the libel.

The rabbi became weak and sick from aggravation and heartache. But wanting to protect him from possible incarceration, the good men decided to smuggle him to Austria. Along the way he caught a chill, and soon after his arrival, he died.

Not long after the rabbi's passing, the police chief lost his mind and went running through the streets shouting in wild voices, “This is for the rabbi.”

And strikingly, all those who lost their houses in saving the rabbi later became rich, as if through a miracle.

Respectable residents of the town–known as believing people–corroborated the fact that they saw the chief running around screaming “This is for the rabbi” and that they personally knew the people who lost their houses and later became rich.

My grandfather, may he rest in peace, then interceded with the czar with a request, written in a rare Hebrew, and not considering whether the czar would refuse his request, sent the prosecutor to call the Cabinet together and congratulated him and kissed him for his wonderful Hebrew, which the czar praised highly.

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Everyone knows and remembers the tomb, the hill of stones that was covered with green grass in the summer and mud from after the High Holidays until Passover. The tomb was behind the Great Synagogue, a place where almost everyone was afraid to go late at night because it was said that the Great Synagogue was lit up in the middle of the night and the dead came to pray then, and that demons came to dance on the tomb because there was once a well there, where in the days of Chmielnitski (may his name be blotted out) the haidamakas threw a whole wedding party–the groom, the bride, in–laws, and musicians–and so were buried there. Children–as well as adults–used to go there and toss in garlic, and on the morning before Yom Kippur, pious Jews would go there right after services to recite prayers.

It was after the High Holidays, when the there was a lot of mud, on a Sabbath night after Havdala. Yitschak Kremenetski (Itsik the Tall)–a tall Jew, a Jew the whole town knew, was a good brother to everyone, even addressing the judge and the rabbi with the familiar “du,” and was invited to almost every wedding and circumcision. If you had to come to an agreement about something, he would be one of the mediators.

On such a Sabbath night, when there was plenty of mud, soon after Havdala, he went over to the market square to see and talk with some good friends over a glass of tea and stayed there until late at night. Walking home through Moshe the Blind's alley, which a gentile's wagon had almost completely blocked, he also happened to go by the synagogue and the tomb. Nearing there, he heard strange shouting and handclapping coming from the direction of the tomb. Not easily frightened, and thinking that it was probably a pig (they used to go there to wallow in the mud), he picked up a stone and threw it into the place where the sound was coming from. Just then, the shouting and clapping got much louder, and he began to see more clearly that something was rising and falling back down. Frightened, he gathered all his strength and ran home–which was not more than an American city block away–ran into the house, and fainted from fear.

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There was a big scream from Miryam, his wife, and the children and neighbors came running and together revived him a little.

Coming to, he began asking people to go with him to see what was going on there. A group of Jews formed, holding lights and their ritual fringes in their hands. They were going to ask the demons to go back to their eternal rest.

But approaching Yankel Leybele's, where you could already see the tomb, everyone heard some strange shouting and saw the strange leaping of a creature that terrified them, and they clutched their fringes and started loudly reciting “Shema Yisrael.” A few of them began to run back, because who can stand up to a wild demon?

But seeing that more people were arriving, they went closer and found a local gentile, completely drunk, wallowing in the mud. It was Yoske the carpenter, who made benches and cabinets for Vishnevets Jews. And as soon as he received payment, he went drinking, and often he went back, and if someone was not paying attention, he stole the furniture and sold it to another Jew. And if someone caught him at it and said, “Yoske, this is mine, I've already paid you for it,” he would say, “It's yours, take it back.”

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The word yizkor had two meanings for me:

1. Things and events that I remember from my childhood years
2. Yizkor, which I and none of those who were saved from our town will not and must not forget.

I was reared by poor parents, who sent me to study with teachers whom they didn't have to pay a lot of money. And sometimes they'd pay nothing. Since my father had no money, and I was growing up, he sent me to the Vishnevets Talmud Torah, which didn't have its own building. The lessons were presented in the study halls, which they used to call the Tailors' Synagogue, R' Itsi's Synagogue, the Tshaner Synagogue, and so on.

Dear, highly educated teachers sacrificed their time and skills to educate the poor children, most of them boys, who didn't have the opportunity to study in the secondary schools–the Tarbut Schools. The Tarbut School did have its own building and charged tuition. It was a progressive school, as it is called today.

The revenue for establishing the Talmud Torah was due to those dear Jews who devoted themselves to collecting donations from the town proprietors. At the head of those proprietors was Hirsh Matus Segal (one of his sons survived the war and is in Israel). But despite the poor conditions in the Talmud Torah, we Talmud Torah students often achieved a higher level of learning in all subjects than the Tarbut School students.

Finally, the day came, and we merited moving into our own Talmud Torah building, for which sincere Jews had used every means to amass the sum of money required to build the Vishnevets Talmud Torah.

When I write about the Talmud Torah here, I have in mind several areas of Torah. The Torah that for me and other survivors of my hometown Vishnevets, many gave and indicated our path in life. However primitive the teaching was then, in our poor, primitive little town of Vishnevets, it gave us the foundation and source for Jewish and secular knowledge.

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Those dear Jews not only carried the burden of providing the Talmud Torah with books and tuition, they also took it upon themselves to pay the teachers, more than 10 at that time. Among them were such well–known teachers as Issakher Sos, Erlikh, and others. I should mention several names of the dear Jews who volunteered their time and money for the Talmud Torah, not for “publicity” but for a little place in the world to come.

Today this would sound like “social work.” Here are some of the names: Shimon Lifshits, Todres Averbakh, Matisyahu Segal, and others whose names I can't recall at the moment.

In modesty, I would like to mention the light–filled memory of my father, Efraim Fishman, may God avenge his blood, who used to make the rounds every week to collect Talmud Torah contributions from the proprietors. May the light–filled memory of the supporters and contributors be eternalized and their names mentioned with reverence.

It is difficult to depict the boundless love and goodness of the impoverished, hardworking Jews in Vishnevets with my poor pen.

As fate would have it, several years before the war, I was torn away from my beloved parents and other Jews when I had to leave to find work someplace else.

The memory of my hometown is holy, sacred to me. My hands shake when I try to mention my hometown. Tears choke me and a shudder goes through my body when the memories of our little Vishnevets community are awakened in me.

May their souls be sanctified in the fire of martyrdom in which they were devoured, and may their light–filled memories never be forgotten by the surviving remnants of Vishnevets.

May God avenge their blood!

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It is important to relate the history of the slander that was made against R' Yosele Radiviler 89 years ago in the town of Vishnevets in Volhynia, where R' Yosele had settled after leaving Radzivilov.

I was told the reason R' Yosele left Radzivilov and settled in Vishnevets, where the accusation took place, by the elderly R' Yisrael Safir HaKohen of Vishnevets, a brave Jew, may God lengthen his days:

It is said that in the dynastic line of rabbis from which Rabbi Yosele drew his pedigree, there was a custom that had been handed down from generation to generation not to stay in the same town for more than 20 years.

So as the 20–year mark for his time in Radzivilov approached, the rabbi let the Radzivilov community leaders and his followers know his thoughts about changing his place, according to the custom of his ancestors.

Generally, many towns would have liked the privilege of having the rabbi settle there and would have been prepared to accept him with honor, but it appeared that Vishnevets held more charm for the saint than other towns, so he decided to settle in Vishnevets.

Thus, Vishnevets became known over all Volhynia and Poland–where the rabbi had many Hasidim who traveled to meet with him, and the Vishnevets Jews considered this a great privilege.

This happened about 98 years ago, in the year 5638 (1877–1878). The Hasidim were happy because Vishnevets and Radzivilov belonged to the Kremenets district, and it was no great distance.

Then the rabbi came down to Vishnevets, where a lovely, spacious, eight–room apartment had been prepared for him. He took four rooms for himself and four for his son Rabbi Sender Shmuel, who a short time later was accepted as rabbi by the Vishnevets town leaders.

And although the rabbi was happy in Vishnevets, all his Hasidim called him Rabbi Yosele Radiviler, and to this day he is called by this name.

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The rabbi had thousands of Hasidim all over Volhynia as well as in other places, and there is much to write about his particular Hasidism, but that's another story. Here I want to describe the accusation made against the rabbi, how he was put into jail when a drowned convert was discovered in the Vishnevets river right after Passover. And because it was a religious murder, how the rabbi was held responsible for it.

And this is what actually happened.

In Vishnevets, there was one Moshe Shuele's, a miller. His wife was named Tsivye; their children were Shaul and Avraham Itsi.

Tsivye had a brother, whom people called Yeshue Lanevitser, who ran a cheder and was a teacher.

Tsivye had another brother who died and left two orphans, Mendel and Avraham Itsi. She took Mendel in and set up Avraham Itsi as a helper for his uncle the teacher.

The whole story of the accusation against the rabbi developed from the teacher's helper, Avraham Itsi, who suddenly converted.

It is not known exactly what brought him to convert, but one fine day he decided that he had had enough of taking children to cheder and instructing them, and he suddenly disappeared from Vishnevets. The whole thing was murky, and people started searching for him. After a short time, when no one had heard from him, the family was worried. But before long rumors spread that Avraham Itsi was in the Pochayev monastery and that he had long since converted.

At that time, he was not quite 16 years old.

You can only imagine what happened in Vishnevets when the sad news reached the family and its relatives. The whole town roiled and talked. They forgot their businesses and livelihood and talked only about the convert. It created great pain and shame for the family. It was a disgrace and an injury.

It was well known that the Pochayev monastery–the largest in the land–was the grandfather of impurities, and it was difficult to save anyone from there even if they wanted to be saved, because “whoever goes in does not come out.” It was really dark and bitter for them, and there was no advice to offer them.

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His cousins Shaul and Avraham Itsi–and his brother Mendel–traveled to Pochayev to see if there was something they could do on the spot. Maybe they could rescue him. They were very disappointed to hear that it was impossible to get into the monastery because it was surrounded by a huge fence, and anyone who entered had to have special permission. It was not possible to go any further.

For the family in Vishnevets, the incident was even more painful because people were suggesting that they had not treated him well, and so he ran away. That was like salt on their wound. The problem caused them a lot of heartache, and their hope was to wait for an opportunity to go to the monastery, for better or worse.

Such an opportunity did come quickly, by chance. Although the monastery was completely walled off from the town, permissions were given for tradesmen, including Jewish merchants, to enter and do business.

You must understand that the monastery had many buildings, fields, forests, gardens, and orchards that were leased to Jews as well. The Jew who leased the orchard had a protector there, a Jew by the name of Chayim Anshel Margolis. He also had a lovely daughter who often went to spend time in the orchard.

It was through her that an opportunity was sought to reach the convert, because the converts were allowed to go into the orchards on Sundays to play and enjoy the fruits and trees. A plan was worked out that the daughter would draw him aside, and from there they could get him out and help him.

Exactly how the deed was executed remains a secret, but in fact that they did get the convert out and cross the Austrian border, which was not far from there; he was then taken to a relative in Skala and left there.

The convert was convinced that he should return to being a Jew, because they promised him that the lovely young woman would be his bride.

That seemed to affect him more than anything else, and it appeared that he was truly sorry for what he had done. So he thought about it for a while. But before long, the young man became uneasy, and eventually he once again made a false step.

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It was discovered that he had already been to see the priest in Skala, told him the whole story, and expressed his desire to convert again.

His relative in Skala was fearful of the consequences of sheltering this convert and asked that [the Vishnevets cousins] come and take him away before it was too late.

It was clear that unless they could pack him off to another location, there would be trouble. So when his cousins came to Skala, they first of all took him back to Vishnevets and looked for ways to get rid of him.

To this day it is not known exactly what happened to him or who helped lead him off the path, because everything was a big secret so that no one would know where his remains would end up.

The story of the convert may not have become known so quickly if not for that, by chance, someone recognized him as his body floated by with a sack tied around its neck; the sack contained stones, which had fallen out of holes that fish had bitten in the sack as the body floated.

This happened right after Passover, when the ice had already melted. On a Friday morning, someone noticed a body floating in the river. The news spread quickly all over Vishnevets, and everyone ran to the river. People were curious to know whose body it was, and one fisherman–Itsi Kotliar, a Jew who had dealt in fish his whole life and could tell a good tale–set out in a boat to bring the body in. But when he recognized that it was Avraham Itsi the convert, he took the body to the opposite shore of the river.

But eventually Lyabetski, a policeman, arrived. He could speak Yiddish, and he helped drag the body out. The Jews in Vishnevets quickly sensed that it was better not to get mixed up in this, and one by one they dispersed. The children, however, who were free from cheder on Fridays, didn't go away, and they were the first to recognize Avraham Itsi, the cheder helper.

The policeman who spoke Yiddish learned too much from the children. You know how children chatter. Before long, the police chief arrived on the scene. He was a true enemy of the Jews.

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He immediately had the rabbi arrested. He would be the security until the guilty party was discovered.

The rabbi was in the middle of praying, and this made a strong impression on him. But he rallied, and they took him off to jail for cross–examination. When the Jews saw that the rabbi had been gone for a long time, they understood that he had been arrested, and they prevailed on the police to let him go free for the Sabbath. He would not even discuss it, and the outrage was so great that they had to send to Kolodno for Uri Tsemach, who was a friend of the chief's, and even he was barely able to persuade him to free the rabbi until Sabbath night, after Havdala. In any case, the Vishnevets Jews had a disrupted Sabbath because the authorities also arrested Avraham Itsi's cousins and their parents, plus his brother Mendel. On that same Sabbath, the assistant prosecutor came from Kremenets along with the investigator (the Vishnevets investigator was on vacation at the time).

Also, a doctor came to perform an autopsy on the body.

And from Pochayev came the baptized mother of three converts, his friends. Later, three priests arrived from Pochayev to make the preparations for the funeral, which had been scheduled for Sunday.

They announced to all the village gentiles that they should gather by the church from which the funeral procession would start. They brought the rabbi to the autopsy, and seeing it, he was so nauseated that he could barely be resuscitated. The Jews in Vishnevets would never forget what they through on that Sabbath and Sunday until the ceremony was over.

As soon as the funeral procession ended, the Jews searched for ways to rescue the rabbi. In the meantime, three days had passed, and it was discovered that the rabbi had not prayed for those three days because the arrestees were dirty and the jail was too foul a place for prayer, and consequently he had not touched the food that had been brought from home.

Convincing the police chief that the rabbi needed a separate room didn't come easily. They set up a bed and a table with a bench, brought in some holy books, and made it as comfortable as possible for the rabbi. But releasing him on bail was not up for discussion until the investigator returned from vacation.

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When the Vishnevets investigator did come and took over the papers from the Kremenets investigator, he still couldn't help with bail because, according to the papers, this was a premeditated murder in which the rabbi had taken part.

As Shavuot approached, the Jews tried to persuade the investigator to release the rabbi for the holiday. But he demanded that they lay out 2,000 rubles against his return to jail; they brought him the money, but they never got it back. The rabbi went back to jail after the holiday. Two or three months went by, and the investigator was still afraid to take it upon himself to release the rabbi on bail, but since he was big on bribery, he himself searched for advice on what to do, and after all, the 2,000 rubles was still in his possession, and he was afraid they would demand the 2,000 rubles back. By the time he conceded that he would release the rabbi for 8,000 rubles' bail, it was already the middle of Elul [August]. The sum was paid, and the rabbi was freed from jail until the trial.

During the Days of Awe, many Hasidim came to the rabbi, and everything looked fine and good, one could pretend, but as if for spite, on Yom Kippur the main prosecutor arrived from Zhitomir and asked where the rabbi was, as he had to be set up in Kremenets to begin a new investigation. When he discovered that the rabbi was out on bail, he spoke sharply to the investigator and told him that he must send him to Kremenets posthaste.

The investigator ordered that they should go to Kremenets on the morning after Yom Kippur. But people wanted the rabbi to be in Vishnevets for the first days of Sukkot, so they started negotiating with the investigator, but he couldn't help. He had to obey the prosecutor's orders. He handed over the papers to the police chief as ordered, and they were able to persuade the police chief to deliver the rabbi on the first interim day of Sukkot.

The rabbi traveled to Kremenets on the first interim day of Sukkot, and the Kremenets Jews saw to it that the rabbi had a separate room. They were even allowed to chop up the roof for a sukkah, and as usual that cost plenty of money.

On Shemini Atzeret, they brought a minyan to pray, and even R' Yisrael was there for the minyan with the rabbi, because he was a kohen. The other arrestees were furious that the storeroom had been emptied for the rabbi and that he was given so much respect.

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While the rabbi was traveling to Kremenets, his son Sender Shmuel went to Zhitomir with patronage so that his father could be released on bail, because the 8,000 rubles were still being held by the investigator. He was successful. A telegram was promptly sent to the Vishnevets investigator stating that Rabbi Yungerleyb could be free on the bail that he was holding. When the rabbi's son returned to Vishnevets, he was certain that his father would already be home, but it turned out that the investigator didn't believe the telegram since, he said, anyone could have sent it from Zhitomir. He must have a signed document that he could bring back from Zhitomir.

R' Sender Shmuel had to travel to Zhitomir again and bring the signed document, and then the rabbi was freed until the trial. So the rabbi was free until the second winter before Purim. He happened to be in Teofipol when it occurred to the investigator that he should deliver the rabbi to Kremenets in the Okruzshnoy court for the trial.

When Zverkovska, the secretary for the investigator, read over the papers, he understood that it was looking bad for the rabbi. He put the papers in his hat and went to visit the rabbi's wife, Chane'le, and told her everything, immediately let the Hasidim know of the danger, and then set off for Teofipol.

Meanwhile, the investigator sent for the two deputies and told them to go to Teofipol to get the rabbi and deliver him to the Okruzshnoy court in Kremenets. They departed for Teofipol to get the rabbi. His wife, Chane'le, related to the rabbi's friend what the papers accused him of and how the secretary had warned her of the danger.

There was a certain Chayim Borovitser in Teofipol, a wealthy Jew. He took it upon himself to deliver the rabbi to Kremenets in his horse and wagon, and the two deputies followed behind. The rabbi was sure he was traveling toward Kremenets. His wife was traveling with him. But when they came to turnoff for Volochisk, Chayim took it before the two deputies noticed, and they continued along the road to Kremenets.

Meanwhile, the rabbi was conducted across the border and driven to Glina, where he remained until he passed away. His wife, Chane'le, became ill even sooner and died of pneumonia.

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The trial for the others took place right after Passover: the miller Moshe Shuele's was sentenced to 12 years in jail; his wife, Tsivye, 10 years in jail. The teacher Yeshue Lanevitser got 10 years. All three were sent to Irkutsk in Siberia. Their children were not old enough, and they were set free. Chayim Anshel got two and a half years, and since it had already been two years until the trial, he served the remaining six months.

The young woman was freed as well since she was young. She married, and her name was then Kartman. With that ended the story of the accusation against the great Rabbi Yosele, which at the time roiled the entire Hasidic world and held our region in suspense for two whole years.

The anguish and worry exhausted the rabbi, and the sudden passing of his wife shortened his years and brought his end near. He passed away in Glina in 5641 (1881–1882). May his memory be for a blessing.

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At the end of the 19^th and the beginning of the 20^th century, when thousands of Jews were abandoning Russia and fleeing to America, many–because they lacked money–had to leave their wives and children and travel alone. Later, when they organized their lives and saved a little money, they sent for their families.

Our area was located near the Austrian border, and many emigrants had to pass through our town, and many Vishnevets Jews helped through their words and deeds.

My father, may he rest in peace, dealt with the Russians directly through an authorized contract to deliver certain products for a certain price to the border patrol as well as to higher government officers.

One day, a woman with five children arrived in Radzivilov, which was also on the Austrian border. The woman had been dealing with certain border agents and couldn't come to an agreement on the price they demanded. Only one way remained for her to get out, and that was to leave one or, more likely, two children with good people, because smuggling all of them over the border was impossible. She would not have enough money to reach her husband in New York.

At that time, there lived in Radzivilov a woman by the name of Chaye Apelboym, a cousin of my mother, may she rest in peace. When she learned of this story, she didn't think for long but took the six souls and traveled with them to Vishnevets. And all seven barged into our house.

And after they were made comfortable, the cousin came right to the point:

“Hershenyu! Hershenyu! First God and then you must help these people, a woman and five children, poor, her husband in America! We are Jews after all, children of mercy [benefactors]. We must help smuggle her over the border!”

My father wanted to explain that he didn't want to be mixed up in it, but they didn't give him a chance to say a word.

The two women and children wept and wailed. Just take them on wings and fly them over the border. But my father, may he rest in peace, had been powerfully moved by their first pleas.

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This was on a Friday, so all seven had to stay in our house over the Sabbath.

That Sabbath, my father, along with my mother, worked out a very risky plan. He used to consult with my mother about everything. They didn't even explain what could happen if the plan didn't work.

Sunday at dawn, when the whole town lay in deep sleep, my father climbed onto his horse, galloped to the customs house, went up to the highest officer of the border patrol, and begged for a personal favor–and one without payment: that he should allow the woman and her five children to cross the border without harassment and in the middle of the day, just as if they had a “government pass” but with one difference: the officer at the border would not demand to see the pass.

After a short deliberation, the gentile said, “Hershele! I like your nerve, and since I know you are an honest Jew, I'll be happy to help you. They must, however, come disguised as nobility, and I'll see to it that tomorrow, at a set time, my trustworthy colleague will be at the gate, and they can pass through, no questions asked.”

In the morning–Monday–the six people were polished up and dressed in their best clothes, the woman as a lady and the children as gentile princes and princesses. My father hired a coach with bells, as that was the agreement–and they crossed the border in peace, just as though they were the highest government officers.

My father had already been to the customs house earlier (ostensibly on business) to see that everything was in order.

And so a number of families succeeded in departing.

The story was known to a very small number of people. And it remained a secret from the town for many years.

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This episode that I will share happened some 56 years ago, in a village near Vishnevets, in Volhynia.

R' Yisrael Safir of Vishnevets–an old Jew, an energetic man–told me about the event. It is the story of how a gentile fell in love with a Jewish girl, and when he couldn't get their parents to agree, he convinced the Jewish girl to run away in the middle of the night.

That had a powerful effect on the girl's parents, and in their despair, they turned to a relative, Hirsh Bisker, who leased estates from Baron von Pliata, who lived in a palace in Vishnevets.

Hirsh Bisker did indeed help to rescue his relative, but the Russian government persecuted him and sent him out of the village, which was in the Pale of Settlement–some 50 versts from the border. His good heart, and the good that he had done for both the Jews and the Christians, saved him from being transported and allowed him to return to his estates and business. The saying “goodness pays for itself” is applicable. And because his wealth came from the estates he leased from Baron von Pliata, I will begin with the Baron, the great scholar.

Baron von Pliata, who lived in a Vishnevets palace, was a great scholar 55 years ago. He was a well–known astronomer and philosopher.

The fact that he was a tutor for Aleksander III's royal family in Tsarskoye Selo shows that he was considered a great scholar and linguist of the time. Nikolay II, the heir apparent, studied with Baron von Pliata as a youth. He came from an aristocratic family in Poland that was related to kings, from whom he inherited many estates and properties. His forests were valued in the millions of rubles. The palace in Vishnevets where he spent most of the summer was located on a hill, surrounded by gardens and orchards. It was gorgeous. In the summer, the orchards and gardens bloomed and perfumed the whole area.

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He was an art lover, so there were many drawings and paintings by the best artists that had cost him a great deal of money. He also possessed a large library and had classic works by all the foreign writers, which he continued to collect.

When years later they wanted to take away the library, they packed them in more than 40 carts. From that you can imagine how many books there were in the library. It is likely that he knew Hebrew, and he often quoted passages from the Talmud, always a surprise for Jews.

It is said that once, by accident, driving near the Vishnevets synagogue, which was counted among the oldest buildings in the town, he expressed his desire to go inside. Entering the synagogue door, he read an “anonymous charity” inscription, took out a 10–ruble gold piece, and dropped it into the box.

Going inside, he walked around with his head bowed, regarded everything, and read everything on the walls. There were prayer books and copies of the Five Books of Moses on the cantor's stand, each of which he opened and said what it was.

Each year he traveled abroad and brought back rarities and art pieces; if he liked something, he didn't spare any expense to have it.

That's how he was known, and if there was a rarity, someone would bring to him, and he would buy it. Thus, he collected a treasure trove of expensive objects and art pieces.

After the Revolution, the entire collection of antiques fell into the hands of the Polish government, in 1920.

The estates were given out in leases. The leaseholder Hirsh Bisker lived in the village of Butin. It was not far from Vishnevets, and Jews had a lot to say about Hirsh Bisker because he liked hosting poor folks for holidays and was very generous in giving charity. It was known that whoever was traveling through Butin had to eat at his house; he simply would not desist.

There was no greater joy for him than when he himself could treat his guests. When he came into town, he brought with him a wagon full of good things, which he distributed among the poor.

[Page 488]

He supported rabbis and religious leaders with a generous hand. Even the gentiles in the village knew that he dealt fairly with them, so they liked him, and he did many favors for them.

The more Hirsh Bisker gave away, the richer he became. He already had other possessions and mills besides being a partner in other businesses connected to forestry, and he was successful in everything he put his hand to. Although he was not well educated, but really a simple villager, he had a good heart, and his goal in life was to take Torah scholars, Talmud experts, as husbands for his daughters.

Hirsh Bisker married his eldest daughter off to a very wealthy man and gave out charity before and after the wedding. The son–in–law was very fine, exactly what he had wished for, and he took the lease in the village of Rakovets, which belonged to Ragof, the governor in Baku. The governor had another village, Mishkovtsy, not far from Rakovets, where Yudel Mishkovitser had settled as a leasee.

That Yudel had a lovely daughter by the name of Rachel. There was a rich Christian in the village who had a son named Timka. That gentile boy set his sights on the lovely Rachel and became a frequent visitor at Yudel Mishkovitser's.

Meanwhile people in the village had begun talking about this, that Timka might take a Jew, Rachel, for a wife.

He even talked to his parents about it, but they told him to get such foolishness out of his head. And Rachel's parents were not happy, and it turned out that Timka decided to deal with it his own way. One night, he convinced Rachel that she should run away with him, and she agreed.

You can already imagine what happened in the morning when people realized that Rachel had run off with Timka, the gentile.

The parents were devastated and didn't know what to do. Since Hirsh Bisker was a relative, they went to him for advice.

Meanwhile, talk began that Rachel was somewhere in a church, where she was being prepared for conversion.

[Page 489]

A gentile came forward to let Yudel know that his daughter was in another village not far away, where the sheygets Timka had hidden her.

Hirsh Bisker turned to the Vishnevets police chief to help him search for the lovely Rachel, who had disappeared. But he wanted [misprints in original] home to her parents. This was not difficult for Hirsh Bisker to do because he had not spared any effort in spreading money around.

Before long, the police chief went off to the village where Rachel was hidden and brought her to the bailiff in Kremenets, who gave her over to her parents. They promptly took her across the border, because they figured that things would not go smoothly and that the government would come to the aid of the priests of the church where they wanted to convert her. And sure enough, the priest in Vishnevets–an enemy of the Jews–wrote a denunciation to the governor in Zhitomir, who then came down to Kremenets for an investigation. Before long, the bailiff from Kremenets was removed from office.

Also, the police chief and constable in Vishnevets were removed from their positions; they were all arrested until they went on trial, and others were assigned in their places.

At the same time, the priest denounced Hirsh Bisker's son–in–law, since he was from Austria, as was Yudel, and now time had left no other way but to cross the border so as not to fall into police hands.

And Hirsh Bisker couldn't be left unpunished. He was not allowed to be within 50 versts of the border and was transported to Kunev, Ostrog district.

Everything that they had possessed became a ruin, and Hirsh Bisker drew a sentence as well.

Hirsh Bisker was devastated and considered how to reverse the sentence.

Meanwhile, the thing had gone all the way to the Kiev general governor, Trentel.

Baron von Pliata was a good friend of Trentel's, so naturally Hirsh Bisker sought a favor from the Baron: to intercede with General Governor Trentel on his behalf.

[Page 490]

He gave him a letter and told him to travel to see the governor in Kiev.

Hirsh Bisker set off for Kiev and went to the general governor's chancellery to hand over the letter from Baron von Pliata.

Sitting there with a broken heart and waiting for the secretary of the chancellery to take him and his request, he heard the secretary call to him:

“Mr. Bisker, what are you doing here?”

He looked at the secretary and didn't know who he was.

The secretary asked, “Don't you recognize me? Remember when I was secretary to the police chief in Vishnevets and I lost my position, and you lent me 25 rubles? Now do you see who I am? Tell me, what brings you here?”

He handed him the letter. The secretary read it over and said to Hirsh Bisker, “Here, take my calling card. Come to my home this afternoon.”

Hirsh Bisker went to his home, and the secretary told his wife who their guest was, and how he had lent him 25 rubles when he had lost his job and didn't even ask for a promissory note.

He was treated very well and was promised that everything would be taken care of and that he should come that night and he would provide him with a document that would free him entirely. And so it was: he wiped out the whole matter with the documents from the governor's desk–he was completely free of the sentence.

He took his leave from the secretary and wanted to reward him, but he would not take any money from him. And he said, “With your 25 rubles I achieved this important office, and if I can do a favor for you now, I'm happy. Go home and give my regards to my friends there.”

He also gave him a letter for the new bailiff in Kremenets, stating that he should allow him to go back to his to his businesses in his village, Butin, which his son–in–law Taytelman had been operating this whole time.

Hirsh Bisker turned toward home with a happy heart. He carried home with him all the money that he had taken with him to Kiev to ransom himself. But he gave it all away as charity in the town of Vishnevets.

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