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The wave of strikes in 1905 also hit the borders of our Vitebsk. The strike of the railroad workers, in particular, which began on October 12, resonated throughout Russia, especially in the ranks of the Jewish proletariat. Our Vitebsk stream, though not overly strong, added to the great sea of the strike.

On Shabbos, October 15, the united committee of both parties—the Russian Social-Democratic Party and the “Bund”—voted to call on Monday, October 17, a general strike of Vitebsk workers. People, in fact, began to prepare for the strike.

On the night of Shabbos, a meeting was called in the shul on Ofitzerska Street. According to the current police stipulations, which we had to obey, it could not be conducted as people had planned. When everyone had arrived—and the shul was full—a member of the “Bund” came and asked everyone to leave, because the speakers who were supposed to appear at the assembly—he said—could not come. We understood that something must have happened and we had only been given that explanation as an excuse. Did the police possibly know what was being prepared in the city? And did they know about our gathering? With a little trepidation, everyone made for the door and quickly left.

Only later did we learn the true situation. Someone had called the fire department saying that there was a fire on Ofitzerska Street there was a fire. It was hard to determine whether this was a prank or whether there really was a fire somewhere. The

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firemen came and quickly left. But the assembly at the shul did not happen.

The united committee of the Social Democrats and the “Bund” then decided to call a meeting for the next evening also in a shul, but this time on Zarutszaya. This time, people were better prepared. Earlier on that day our fighting group came and decided what to do if the police came to our meeting. It was decided to rebel if they tried to disperse or to arrest us.

When we arrived at the shul, it was closed up. Asking the sexton or the gabbais to unlock the shul was useless. Our locksmiths undid the lock, and we all went in. The shul was packed—a couple thousand people were there. The speakers informed us about the recent revolutionary events in the country and called for a political strike. In those revolutionary October days in 1905, our Vitebsk, like all the cities in Russia, was, due to the railway and postal strikes, almost cut off from the rest of the world. It was no surprise that the sensational news about these events electrified us. The police did not raid us that evening, and our meeting ended peacefully. From the meeting everyone went to our party headquarters. The police did not know what to do with us—whether to arrest us or not. They were bewildered, and we went home in peace.

On Monday, October 17—the day when the general strike was called in Vitebsk—at 7 in the morning our fighting group came and worked out a plan for how to conduct the strike—from which factories and plants the first workers should come and from which the later would come—and how to manage the overall strike. Our fighting group was large and courageous. In the factories where people did not quickly abandon their work, people released the steam and the water from the boilers. Soon there was no alternative to stopping the work. But one must say that the greater portion of workers with great joy stood up for the revolution. Thus did the fighting group go from one factory to the next until

Vitebsk Committee of the Social-Democratic Party in 1905

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the Cossacks came with soldiers and did not allow more factories and workshops to be shut down.

The fighting group then went to Zamkower Street, where the striking workers had already gathered. You should understand that where the strikers had come, there were already soldiers and police. Meanwhile, we learned that in another street, Zadunower, several members of the fighting group had been arrested. And immediately six armed soldiers appeared, leading our two arrested members. One of them was beaten up. When we saw our bloodied friend, we began to yell, “Comrades! Free the prisoners!” People immediately moved to free them. A policeman pulled out his gun and began to shoot at us. But our fighting group was not silent and responded with shots. The policeman, like a bird who had been shot, fell dead. Although the soldiers were armed, they began to beat on the two arrested men. None of us were harmed. Later, Cossacks also came to Zamkower Street, and together with the soldiers they went on a rampage. All passersby were arrested for no cause, and those arrested were beaten and bloodied.

Fear fell over the whole city. Everything was closed up and locked. It was as if the city had died. The police, along with drunken soldiers dominated with even more atrocities. And with them stood a large number of darker elements, hooligans, who felt that now was the their time. They were backed by the government, so that they could do whatever they wanted, and they began to pillage the stores. They stole from eight stores, among them three watchmakers.

On the next day, Tuesday, October 18, the governor of Vitebsk forbade all gatherings. Even the smallest gathering—he ordered—should be dispersed with weapons, although after Monday night telegrams had already arrived about the manifesto. The governor, it appears, did not himself know what men might and what they dared not do. But the sity already knew about the manifesto and did not want to take into account the governor's order. At around ten in the morning people assembled on

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Smolensk Street near the government printing office. There they had already printed the manifesto. One can imagine the happiness and joy when people saw the manifesto in black and white. Immediately happy outbursts and revolutionary songs were all over the city. But our joy did not last long. The city government probably felt that the manifesto was only a formality and they could still come out on top, so they sent Cossacks to “pacify” the population. As usual in such cases, so for us in Vitebsk there was no lack of provocation. One provocateur fired a shot that killed a 50-year-old Jew. This was a signal for the Cossacks to begin shooting. Our fighting group answered with shots. Then a young man was killed and a young woman was wounded in her foot. The Cosssacks soon withdrew. Hooligans wanted to use that moment and started stealing, but people chased them away.

Meanwhile people knew that shooting had begun on Smolensk Steet. Immediately people headed there. There it appeared that the city government wanted to deal with the revolutionaries. In all the nearby streets, in the post office building, and in other places, there were still armed soldiers, who greeted us with gunfire. The whole thing was very sad. Seven people were killed: Zalman Chafetz, Yakov Shaver, Yakov-Duvod Safran, Palia Sheinin, Zelik Worobeicik, Chanah Sorokowa, Beila Bernshteyn. The last four were Bundists. And about 10 people were wounded. At the same time, the chief of police arrived. People wanted him to remove the soldiers. He did not want to take responsibility and consulted the governor. They quickly removed the soldiers. The streets were free…

Later in the day a new demonstration began, and it grew bigger and bigger. It is hard to describe the great joy of the whole Vitebsk population. Even army officers greeted the demonstration. Provocateurs still tried to disturb the demonstration, but people were so sure of their victory that no one took the provocations seriously. The demonstration lasted until 6 in the evening.

On Tuesday night, people in the government

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printing house printed a call to the people that at 10 in the morning there would be a funeral for the comrades who fell in the battle for freedom. Well before the appointed time, people began to come to the hospital, where our fallen comrades lay. People estimated that 30,000-40,000 people came to accompany our fallen comrades to their eternal rest. All parties took part in the funeral. And the whole mass of people, with black and red flags and revolutionary songs, went to the cemetery. Only a third of them could fit into the cemetery. Everyone else remained on the surrounding streets.

But our joy did not last long. We felt like free people for only a short time. Reaction quickly set in. Within a few days there were “patriotic” manifestations. People also began to speak about pogroms in the city. Our self-defense organization stood ready with weapons in their hands to meet the pogromists. Luckily, no pogrom happened in Vitebsk. But the rumors of a pogrom were a good sign for us that the revolution in Russia had not triumphed.

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At the beginning of the 20^th century, the idea occurred to the worker activists of the “Bund” in Vitebsk to establish a building association. The point of the association would be to bring together all trades related to building and renovating buildings–the trades of carpenters, masons, tinsmiths, locksmiths, painters, and others.

The working day was then quite long, and the pay for such work was so small that to support a family on such earnings was nearly impossible. The situation of the building trades was even worse because of the seasonal nature of the work. Houses could only be built in the summer. In the winter, these people had no work. The more intelligent workers understood that the lot of the builders could be improved if the workers were organized.

Even earlier, aid associations had been established through the “Bund.” In Vitebsk these were called [in Russian] “mezhkasavaya.”

In the city we had several labor exchanges where, during building season, which lasted from after Pesach until late summer, workers and bosses would come together and the workers would be given various jobs. On Zaharia, near the market gates, there was an exchange for carpenters, masons, locksmiths, and floor workers. A second labor exchange–for painters–was located on Zaharia near the town clock, or, as people said, near the “kalantsha” [Russian for “clock tower”].

Each craft had its own well-known workers who were more active and engaged in the work. Standouts among the carpenters were Moyshe-Shachna from Zaduneva, Shimon the

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Carpenter, Nissen Milgoten, Vevka, Hirshke, and others; among the masons–Leyzero-Itze Velie, Yisroel-Lebe Rabinovitsh, Itzka Saravaiski; among the locksmiths–Shlimke Izraelev and several others. Thanks to some favorable circumstances, the painters were better organized.

A little later, younger workers entered the professions: among the tinsmiths–Yoshke Rutrik, Duvid Tumarkin, Mordechai, Hirshke; among the carpenters–Yankel Rot, Bentzia Senford, Itzke Chaikin; among the masons–Shuta, Talia and Chaztia Israelov; among the painters–the Sadkin brothers, Shimon Plavnik, Hirshel-Yoshe Safro, the writer of these lines, and others.

The majority of the activists belonged to the “Bund,” but there were others who belonged to other parties–Social-Democrats, Socialist-Revolutionaries, and Po'alei Tzion.

In Vitebsk there were some bosses who employed the majority of workers, such as Mendel Luria, Shmuel Funt and his sons. They had contracts with the city-duma [council] and with private undertakings to conduct various projects. For the painters, too, there were major entrepreneurs–Ber-Leib, Shimshon Susser, and Meir Kisselgof–who had contracts with the railroads not only in Vitebsk but also in far-off Yekaterinoslav and its surroundings.

In those days, people often heard about strikes in the city. I remember one strike against Meir Kisselgof. The workers had already produced their demands. It was a Saturday night. We came to his house. The boss, Meir Kisselgof, sat at a massive table. On the table was a huge samovar, and we drank tea, with a bit to eat.

Representing the workers were two Bundists–the student Shmuel Pisorevski and the writer of these lines. The former laid out the demands of the workers. Meir Kisselgof listened quietly to Pisorevski and laughed at the demands. Then I took over and said to him that the “Bund” existed not only in Vitebsk but also in other cities and that it could in any time and any place, regardless of how far away, call off the workers and

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The Builder's Association in Vitebsk

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A group of Vitebsk Bundists (business employees) in 1904

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bring a halt to the work. Kisselgof turned a little pale and began to bargain. We came to an agreement and the strike ended. The proposed strike had an effect on the smaller bosses, and they agreed to the workers' demands.

Our collective from the “Bund” became stronger, so that we had control over all the building professions. We were concerned not only with improving the economic conditions of the workers but also with political developments for the workers. One could say that our efforts brought good results.

The Kishinev pogrom of 1903, organized by the czarist regime, shook up the whole world. The Jewish youth would not allow themselves to be slaughtered by the stirred up bandits and everywhere organized self-defense groups. In Vitebsk, too, we organized self-defense groups. All of the revolutionary parties participated–Jewish and non-Jewish. There were also several liberal circles. More active, however, were the groups from the building trades. Physically heathy young men–they could throw a scare into the hooligans. One could say with certainty that thanks to our self-defense groups, Vitebsk escaped a pogrom. It is possible to say, I think, that in the events of the revolution, the comrades in the building trades took an active role. On the 17^th of October, 1905, when demonstrations took place on the streets, the comrades in the building trades together with all the workers in the city showed their full heroism and daring. On the night of October 17^th, people prepared to conduct the funeral of the seven comrades who had been shot during the demonstrations. With the help of those from the manufacturing shops, we collected enough silk that a group of painters spent the entire night painting slogans on the red pennants and banners.

Thanks to the new rules, we could establish legal professional associations, and we used the new situation to legalize the building association. We obtained an apartment on Zamkover Street in the courtyard of the optician Mendelssohn. We had to renovate the apartment. We took to the work and in a few weeks completed the renovations. The workers took no money for their efforts. It was all done gratis. We should also recall to their credit several good bosses who provided material and funds for the renovation.

Soon we held the first legal gathering of our

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building association. The mood of our comrades was buoyant, as if for a holiday. Our association was connected to the Bund, and when the worker Yankel Rom opened the meeting, we began with the Bundist oath.Naturally we had to elect a chair for the building association. To my surprise, they gave me this great honor. I was elected as the official chair of the building association.

Our work began to develop to a large extent. It is appropriate to note that our association was not only concerned with bettering the economic situation of the workers and taking part in political work, but it also had an immense influence on the moral and personal conduct of the workers. The prestige and importance of the association were huge, so that people came to us even about family matters.

In the winter months, building work came almost to a halt. The workers had to find work in other professions in order to get through the bad times. They worked at beating flax–these workers were called “trepatches” [chatterboxes]–or they worked at other jobs. The association had instituted, as people called them, “rules for work.” This meant to divide up the work so that a greater number would have the possibility of working. Understand, not everyone could find work in those critical winter months, so we required that each employed worker had to give a certain amount for the benefit of the unemployed. Our member Bentzia Senford, in the name of the association, arranged for the “trepatches” to help the unemployed. Comrade Bentzia, also with the help of the members, arranged for the construction in the Zarutshaya cemetery of a monument for the seven victims of the October Revolution. So we went on with our work until 1907, when, for political and economic reasons, the active members of the association had to leave Vitebsk for America.

I, too, had to leave Vitebsk. The police began to seek “sinners” in our building association, and I, as the chair, was responsible for these “sinners.” I was arrested. I was detained for three months, and I was released until my trial. With the kind of trial that a worker activist in czarist Russia could have–

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one knew what to expect–it was better for me to go to America.

From that time, when I was in the city prison, I remember an interesting episode.

Several weeks before Pesach in 1907, several members of the “Bund” were brought to our cell. They had been arrested at an illegal meeting. Among them was the owner of the apartment where the meeting had been held. Mendel the Skinny–so was he called. A tall Jew with a small beard and a pale face. He could not understand what had happened to him–because of the 20 kopeks he had taken for the use of his apartment, he suddenly found himself in jail. And even greater was horror that it was two weeks before Pesach and he had left his family in God's hands. We tried to calm him down and we assured him that the “Bund” would look after his family with all that they needed for Pesach.

When the first night of Pesach arrived, Mendel, who was an observant Jew, prepared to conduct the seder in jail. But go try to conduct a seder when your cellmates regarded it with the attitudes of heretics. But I did not join them. Why was an observant Jew guilty for sorrowing? We therefore provided him, with the help of the Red Cross from the “Bund,” with all the foods he needed for Pesach.

And now came the moment for the seder. With tears in his eyes, Mendel withdrew to a corner of the cell, opened his Hagaddah, and quietly said Kiddush. Nu, and who would ask the Four Questions? At home Mendel had left his eleven-year-old son, who would sit by him at the seder and ask the Four Questions. But now he sat in a corner in the prison and conducted the seder by himself, and Mendel suddenly started to cry.

We could not watch his sorrow, and I, the youngest of the prisoners in the cell, asked the Four Questions.

Of that same cell in the Vitebsk prison I can also sketch another event from that time, which later in my life, in New York, had an effect on my community and cultural work. Several of the detainees felt compelled to etch their names on the walls of the cell. I also etched my name on the wall–Berke Miringof. Afterwards

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I forgot about it. But years later, when I already lived in New York, one time my phone rang:

“Are you the Berke Miringof who was in the Vitebsk prison in 1907?”

“Yes I am,” I responded.

“If so, I have greetings from your name that was etched into the wall of the prison. I was confined in the same cell as you, after you were released. My name is Harry Abramson.”

We met soon after, and he told me that he had been arrested for belonging to the Social-Revolutionary Party and was confined in the same cell. That cemented our friendship. And now we are coworkers in putting out the book “Vitebsk Amol.”

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