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Noah Tzemakh

The Market Street

Kosciuszko Street

Volkovysk Girls Having fun and smiling (1938) From left to right: Manya Uryonsky, Leah Cantor, Hannah Berman, Rachel Movshovksy, Esther Schwartzbuch, Tanya Movshovsky, Mira Epstein		The Wide Boulevard

I have stopped the sands of time, and turned the clock back fifty years, and I find myself in Volkovysk as it was then, under the Polish regime. Changes pass before my eyes, different transformations, that reflect the experience and the way of life of thousands of Jews that comprised the majority of the city's population. A variegated kaleidoscope knit together.

Let us begin with the Hanukkah holiday, which was my favorite above all. The winter is at its most intense. A coating of snow is on the h\roofs and houses, the yards, streets and trees. The temperature is 10°F below zero. Hanukkah candles are visible in most homes in the neighborhoods, beginning from “under the hill,” in the Northwest, and on to

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Karczyzna in the East, and Zamoscheh in the Southwest. A pleasant warmth suffuses the houses, the children are playing draydel, and the older folks are playing cards, and the ladies of the house are serving warm, pancakes with sweets or tasty little jars of fat. The sound of Hanukkah songs can be heard breaking out of many homes, and their melodies rise up, and the most popular is, Oy Hanukkah, oy Hanukkah, a Yom Tov a Shayner, a fraylikher, a lustiger, nit doh nokh azoy einer. (Oh Hanukkah, oh Hanukkah, what a beautiful holiday – a happy and lusty one, there is no other like it).

The sun shines in the bright of day, and the snow glitters like jewels throwing off colors. The Titov pond is frozen over. Children and teenagers are skating on the ice, showing off their skills and tricks. On the Wide Boulevard, opposite the commercial center, Jewish wagons with sled rails are parked, with the horses in their harnesses, decorated with lively bells. On the second side of the street – the Jewish butcher shops that provide kosher meat to the homemakers. The smell of the meat attracts many dogs to the area, who wait for scraps. A Christian beggar routinely makes the rounds here, who falls to his knees and begs for charity in a pitiful voice. The cold blows through the many stores, and the pot of hot coals is insufficient to temper it. Mostly, the women sit around it, warming their frozen hands near it.

Groups of young people, renting sleigh rides for touring (Kulik), go by in the city streets, with their occupants in song, to the accompaniment of the bells on the horses' heads. Children play in the yards of the houses, putting up a snowman, joyful and happy, they have a snowball fight. The water carriers are walking through the streets, and on their neck is the yoke from which two pails of water hang. This was the normal way water was supplied at the time the city was not yet connected to a water supply system. The water pumps, that were set up in various neighborhoods, were hand-operated, and were a source of income to those working as water carriers. The outhouses were in the yards of the houses. On the bitterly cold winter nights, going outside for large or small necessities was fraught with immense danger… the garbage collectors, who would pick up trash from boxes, that were especially set up in the yards of houses, did their work at night, and haul the trash outside the city. Chimneys the roofs would discharge the smoke from the houses, that curled up from the stove which was inside the houses. The soot that collected in the chimneys and prevented the smoke from getting out, was the cause of many a terrible fire. Removal of this soot was the work of the chimney sweeps, familiar figures in the city, whose faces and clothes were perpetually covered in soot, and a rope was tied to their shoulders with a broom and the tools of their trade.

Here, I have arrived at the courtyard of the Great Synagogue, and the Batei Medrashim that are adjacent to it – the religious center in the city. At the heart, the Great Synagogue looms over everything, and along its breadth nearby, is the Bet HaMedrash called ‘the new building,’ and opposite it is the Bet HaMedrash called ‘the old building,’ beside which is the Ein Yaakov Bet HaMedrash. Further south is the Takhkemoni School – the Talmud Torah and Yeshiva. In my mind's eye, I see the Yeshiva Headmaster – Rabbi Yerakhmiel Daniel. A dominant personality and respected by the Jewish community.

The school day stretches from morning until evening. Most of the students came from poor families, who did not have the means to pay tuition. The obligations of the school were specifically covered by donations on the part of contributors in the city, and Volkovysk émigrés in the United States. Near the school: a slaughterhouse for fowl. The bathhouse, and various charitable institutions, such as: hosting visitors, the old age home, a home for the indigent, etc.. Paupers down on their luck, people maimed in body and spirit, mill around in the synagogue courtyard, seeking some shelter from the winter beside the stove in the Bet HaMedrash Before me stands Moshe ‘Bulkeh,’ crippled from the time of the First World War. Many children surround him, and he shows off his ‘knife’ to them, because he is capable of eating fifty cookies at once, and wash them down with sixty glasses of tea. And you can also run into Yoss'l, ‘the Village Idiot,’ here. He is constantly smiling, but the songs that he sings are sad, soulful songs.

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Beginning on Thursday, one can begin to feel the special preparations beginning for the Sabbath. There is a substantial surge in buyers in the stores of the commercial center. The women are early in arranging for their purchases, because a lot of work waits for them in the preparation of the various dishes and baked goods. The scent of gefilte fish and cholent is carried along in the air on Friday. Many go to the bathhouse to wash in honor of the Sabbath. Close to the onset of the Sabbath, the women hurry along with their pots to the bakeries, so that the cholent can cook overnight. The ‘Sabbath Queen’ has arrived – and the women, men, children, and infants, washed and radiant, wearing their Sabbath finery, fill the Batei Medrashim, from which rise the sounds of the Sabbath prayers. After services, sitting at the set tables, one can hear the special Sabbath songs (zemirot Shabbat). It is a city of Jews. The following day, on the Sabbath, with the conclusion of services, the worshipers coming out of the Batei Medrashim stream back to their homes, and on the other side of the street – the women and children come out of the bakeries, carrying the pots of cholent in their hands. It was not unusual for the pots to get mixed up. Always, one party got the better and the other party – lost out.

– – – The holiday seasons move ahead. Purim is getting ready to arrive. The snow has melted, and the worst of the cold is behind us. On the edges of the roofs of the houses, once can still see icicles hanging – the heat of the sun is warming up the snow, which melts. In the Batei Medrashim, the children greet the name of Haman with all the ‘armament’ in their hands, every time the reader mentions his name. During the afternoon of Purim, young boys walk about the streets carrying the plates with Shalakh Manot, in order to fulfil the mitzvah, ‘you shall send gifts, one to another.’

Preparations for Passover begin the day after Purim.

The people who work for Maot Khittim, important balebatim, and distinguished members of the Jewish community, begin their task of providing the necessities of the holiday, that is demanded of every Jew for is festival, for the needy, and their operating principle is – ‘give or take,’ that is to say, no man is free of meeting this obligation, either he gives his donation, or he himself must receive a donation. A special committee draws up a list of the needy, taking into account the second principle, ‘giving charity in secret.’ There are well-to-do Jews who have lost their assets in the past year, and were ruined, but they have no interest in having the ‘community’ know about it because their circumstance is so embarrassing. For these too, it is required to provide matzos, wine, meat, etc., but discreetly, so that no one will know.

Preparations for the holiday can be felt in the houses, where the homemakers are bent under the yoke of all the things that await them in the house. The double windows are taken out, that protect against the winter cold, there is whitewashing, cleaning, the special Passover dishes are brought down from their storage place, and other dishes are made kosher by heating them to white heat, or passing them through boiling water. The season of matzo baking begins, and matzo needs to be prepared. Clothes and shoes for all members of the household, practicing the Four Questions, performed as usual by the youngest member of the family, and all sorts of other tasks connected with the imminent holiday.

I continue to wander about, as it were, in the city streets, and first of all, it is necessary to see what is going on in the market. Yes, it is a market day today. The wagons of the peasants from the villages near to Volkovysk and far, fill the commercial center, and the adjacent streets, testify to that. The horses are pulling at their harnesses, but they are lashed very well to the wagons, and their snouts are buried in feeding bags. There is a pandemonium in the city. The peasants are bringing the crops from their fields, and present them for review by all on special stands. Cattle and Sheep are brought for slaughter to the municipal slaughterhouse, and the businesses that work in coordination with the butchers. Also, horse traders from the entire district meet at the great fair in the adjacent town – Zelva. This is a good opportunity for the peasants to grab a good shot of whiskey, after they have filled their pockets with money, and after they have provisioned themselves with a variety of needs and items that are found in the city. The market

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day is a day of continuous business in every story and factory. Along the width of the commercial center, all manner of entertainers appear, and clowns who entertain the large crowd, who show their appreciation not with clapping, but with the ‘ringing’ of coins thrown into their hats. There are fire and sword swallowers too, monkey acts, bear acts, and fire acts.

I leave the market, and continue along the Wide Boulevard (Szeroka) towards the train station. On the way, I stop at Blond Kalman's kiosk who sells soft drinks, newspapers and stationery items. By morning, all the Yiddish newspapers printed in the capital of Warsaw have arrived at his kiosk: Heint, Moment, Unser Express, and also weekly and monthly publications, each according to its schedule. The Hebrew weekly, BaDerekh, which I was in the custom of buying each week, could also be found here, as well as the Hebrew daily, Hatzefira, while Hatzefira was still being published. From the kiosk, I continue to walk, and I pass the rows of the stores (Rad Krommen). Here one can fined merchandise of every kind in all sizes, shapes to satisfy any whim: linens, trifles, ironware, carpentry tools, shoemaking, dyeing; baked goods and candies; watches, etc. In a word – everything. It isn't necessary to say that all of these stores were Jewish. Now I reach the Polonia Cinema, whose owner is also Jewish. In the hall of the cinema, Yiddish and Polish plays are also put on, productions appear from Vilna, Warsaw, and other Polish cities. Opposite the cinema are the offices of the local weekly Yiddish newspaper, Volkovysker Leben, most of whose columns are taken up with obituaries, notices of happy occasions, and commercial ads. But it is also peppered throughout with articles on various local happenings that have taken place, or are due to take place in the future in the life of the Jewish community, and even distributed short essays on issues of the day, with a very obvious bias favorable to Zionism.

Along the Wide Boulevard, one can see many wooden houses whose roofs are covered with shingles, also made of wood, most of which are crying out for repair. The white edifice of the Catholic church pierces the sky here. On Sundays and Christian holidays, the soldiers of the third brigade of mounted lancers, based in the barracks on the southwest side of the city, stream over to here. The church is surrounded by a stone fence, with new houses close by, built out of stone, and occupied by Christians.

And I have now reached the street that will take me to the south side railroad station. Here once crosses the bridge over the river that flows out of the city. Near this station – the municipal park, the Ugniski Cinema. South and west, on the other side of the railroad tracks, is the pine forest, “Burkehs” which gives great pleasure to walkers, and fresh air enthusiasts. Since I am arranging this “tour” of mine so as not to be at the height of summer, I pass on the opportunity this time, and I turn to the north – to the street that brings me to the Tatarski Gasse. The government run Polish gymnasium looms ahead on the hill above us, which also has a small number of Jews among its many students, who are ready to burst for the privilege of being accepted to a Polish university after they finish their gymnasium studies.

The smithy of an elderly Jew is located at the foot of this hill, who works at this business with his son. Jewish wagon drivers, and Christian peasants come here to have their horses shod. I snatch a brief conversation with the smith and his son, after which I turn to the right and stop at the most important institutions in Volkovysk and its vicinity – Linat Kholim – an institution that provides medical assistance to the Jewish populace of all ages and means. A visit to the dispensary is for a nominal charge only, and next to the dispensary, there is a pharmacy that is open 8 hours a day, child support in the form of ‘the drop of milk,’ and it is here that this important institution looks after the health and well being of sick children who need to be nursed back to health. Linat Kholim also runs the Jewish hospital which became seriously run down during the period of the First World War, but in recent times was renovated and put back in suitable condition.

From the Tatarski Gasse, I turn Left onto the Grodno Gasse, and my ‘first stop’ on this street is the building of the Tarbut School. It is worth

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stopping to spend some time here. Voices singing in Hebrew burst forth from the building, harmonious and soul-restoring, along with the sounds of the Hora being danced, that reach my ear. Here it is possible to breathe the air of the Holy Land. Blessings should be accorded to those who concerned themselves with establishing a network of institutions for Hebrew education. The beginnings of this network was with a Hebrew kindergarten, and afterwards a Hebrew grade school, and the last link in the chain – the Hebrew Gymnasium, Hertzeliya. I doubt I will be able to get to the other schools today, such as Yavneh, Kadima, and the Yiddish School, but in my visit to the Tarbut School, I am also recalling the others as well.

Further up the street, I am stopped by a crowd around the Fire Wagon. Vigorous young men wearing insignias, with copper helmets on their heads, are carrying out a fire-fighting exercise. They bring the ladders close up to the wall of a nearby building in a sprightly fashion, two firemen with large hoses in their hands, climb up the wall and go up on the roof, two others have already arrived , also with a hose in hand, to the top floor in the middle of the building, and are facilitating the drawing of water. The organization of the fire department, most of whose members were Jewish, and only few were Poles, had an excellent reputation, and the entire city was very proud of them. The leadership was entirely in Jewish hands. The members of the organization were vigorous young men, dedicated to their positions, equipped with the latest gear. The fire department orchestra also filled an important place in the community and cultural life of the city. An unforgettable scene was – a Christian funeral, led by the members of the Jewish orchestra, playing mournful music… A thing we learned was that the members of the local Polish government found it difficult to reconcile themselves with the existence of this organization, which was all made up of Jews, but not having any alternative, they were forced to reward it frequently with recognition for its excellence in carrying out its blessed work.

– – – The seasons continue to move on. Lag B'Omer, the traditional holiday of national Jewish youth is approaching. It is easy to recognize the signs of preparation for this holiday in the Jewish community, but most obviously in the ranks of the Zionist youth movements. On the morning of that day, a large assembly is held in the Great Synagogue. After services, the teacher Shkarlat gives a talk in Hebrew on issues of the day, and the choir, accompanied by the Fire Department orchestra, sing Israeli songs. Among these is always, Se'u Tziona ness gadol and Tekhezakna yedei kol akheinu hamkhonenim.^[1] With the conclusion of the assembly, a lineup of the different Zionist youth groups takes place in the courtyard of the Great Synagogue, who appear in their insignias and with their flags: HaShomer HaTza'ir, Gordonia, Betar, HeHalutz, the students of the Hertzeliya Gymnasium, the Hebrew schools, the students of the Talmud Torah, the children of the orphanage, the pupils from the regular Heders, and of course all of the teachers, men and women alike. When the lineup is completed, this large symbolic group marches through the streets of the city, as the orchestra accompanies it with music, in the direction of the forest of the Burkes, where a large picnic had been set up that will continue all day. Crowds of Jewish people would crowd the outskirts of the city in order to see this large encampment, on its way out, and upon its return, to the point of escorting it with clapping hands and good wishes. The ‘extra soul’ of all the Jews of Volkovysk was especially gladdened on that very day.

– – – I am drawing near to the river's edge, the location of many strolls during spring and summer, and these are the seasons in which river bathing begins, literally from the onset of summer. During summer, sporting activities start up anew. Soccer games on Saturday and Sunday. The city is plastered with notices about these games, with the participation of Polish teams (Psziszlucz, V.K.S) and the Jewish team, Morgenstern from the Bund, and others. The

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games are held on a field near the barracks, on the southwest side of the city, and also on a field that had been set aside for such games on the east side of the city. The Maccabi team is thought to be not only one of the strongest teams in Volkovysk, but also in the entire district. It received a subsidy for the Jewish community,. And thanks to that, succeeded in meeting its budget.

Maccabi also participated in other branches of sport other than soccer, such as: tennis, ping-pong, basketball, hockey, bicycle racing, swimming, field sports and boxing. Apart form the Maccabi team, there was a team – Nordia, from the ranks of the revisionists, which was active in the city, but it didn't measure up to the same standard as Maccabi.

In continuing my walk, I reached the Kholodoisker Gasse, and it was impossible not to stop at the orphanage. A great deal of work and effort was expended to put up this three-story building, and in particular, it was Eliyahu Shykevich, who put in so much of his heart, with caring effort and dedication without bounds to establish this institution. Orphaned children, whose numbers were large in the years immediately after the First World War, who were abandoned and left on their own, found a warm home here, where it became possible for them to forget their troubles, and to get an education and learn a trade. Who knows what their fate would have been without this house.

And it is not possible to finish a “tour” like this, without spending some time at the financial institutions, and cooperatives, thanks to whom, Jews got access to work and commerce, and many were saved from bankruptcy, and certain ruin. To this end, two Free Loan Societies operated in the city, two Jewish banks (a Merchant's Bank, and a Real Estate Bank). Various branches of the economy were established thanks to these institutions, new sawmills were added, leather factories were expanded, brick kilns, a branch of a hotel, etc., etc. The burden of the taxes levied by the Polish regime on the Jews to pressure them from parts of the economy and transfer it to Polish hands, did not succeed in diminishing the means of livelihood for the Jews, thanks to the honesty of the Jews, and in their ability to organize themselves and provide timely help in which many activists participated in a committed and loyal fashion. It is impossible not to remember one of them – Engineer Ephraim Barash, who established many such institutions. Headed the Zionist movement, was active on behalf of all national funds and institutions, and for the Hebrew educational network. It was a great loss for the Jews of Volkovysk, when the Bialystock community “stole” him from us, and made him the head of the large Jewish community of Bialystock, but even in assuming his new position, he did not forget Volkovysk, and his heart was open to every call for help, advice and direction.

“I'm a bit tired” from my lengthy “tour” through the streets of Volkovysk, but I will admit that I had serious doubts and loss of spirit during the “tour.” The heart is pained that the Abrogator descended on all this during the period of the Holocaust, and there is practically no trace left of work of this lively, vibrant, dynamic and animated Jewish community.

Translator's footnote:

1. Two of the classic Zionist rallying songs: Raise a great standard towards Zion, and May the hands of all our pioneering brethren be strengthened. Return

Our home town was a Jewish city, and the impact of the few Christians that lived their was negligible. Our house stood on the main street, the Wide Boulevard (Szeroka). My grandfather's house was in the middle, and our family of five people lived in the courtyard, and in the very center, was the carpentry shop. A large part of the yard “belonged” to my grandmother, Leah. Within the boundaries of her “realm” was a beautiful blooming garden, in which you could find all manner of vegetables and fruits, and flowers that were pleasing to the eye. I remember as a child, that I helped my grandmother Leah water her plants, and I was not the only child who participated in this. All the children ran around among the plants, and there were times when our grandmother found it difficult to rid herself of our assistance… the children of our neighbors would also come into our yard, and among them also were Christian children, and there is no doubt that this was because of our grandfather, who

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used to make all manner of toys for the children, such as rocking chairs, balls, and similar things. The children of the Christian family Shevshevicz were very frequent guests in our yard, and it appears that they did not feel any anti-Christian sentiment in our neighborhood in the way we did feel anti-Semitism in theirs…

When you entered grandfather's house from the street – you would first enter a large room, sort of a salon, whose furniture I recall very well: an old oak buffet, a big table and chairs, a sofa, a bookcase, and a library. The regular guests in this room were craftsmen, friends and acquaintances of grandfather. I would see them side by side, sitting at the table, sipping tea from the samovar, playing dominoes or damka, and in the process, telling each other what's new in the city, peccadilloes, large and small… and when I close my eyes and transport myself there – I see grandfather's guests one-by-one, their appearance, or more correctly – their appearance as it then was.

Here sits Abraham Shpak. When he would put down his large, bony, veined hands – there was no more space left on the table for anything else. Mordetsky the builder sits at his side, telling stories about his business dealings and their present status, that landowners from near and far would send their coaches to bring him to work on their property, and they also would bring him back home for the Sabbath. Mordetsky had a little beard, and he was always spotless, and wore a short jacket.

Now we get to Chaim Polonsky, whom everyone nicknamed ‘the Tailor from Odessa,’ because he was in the habit of talking a great deal about ‘the good old days,’ when they used to take the clothes that he made to an exhibition in Odessa. I have no basis on which to challenge these representations, just as, if the truth be known, I have no basis on which to verify them either… this tailor was often the butt of jokes, and subject to imitation, because of his unique Yiddish accent, not a Litvak accent^[1], which was the rule in our area. Also, the locksmith Kaganovich, who also made and repaired scales and balances, was one of the regular guests to grandfather's house, however, as opposed to the others, he would always come with his wife, either because she was afraid to stay at home alone, or he was afraid to come alone. The one who was closest to grandfather, was Podolinsky the carpenter. He had an ‘ear for a tune,’ understood music, especially cantorial liturgy, and in his youth, was a member of a choir, whose name I have totally forgotten, and perhaps him as well… I recall that he loved to tell a lot of jokes and dispense advice. A frequent guest of ours was also our neighbor, a shoemaker by trade, who was called Meir the Menaker. I did not know his real name, and neither did others. He was one of those energetic early risers. Upon his arrival, he would go sit in a corner and read the daily Jewish paper Der Moment, to which grandfather subscribed. It was whispered about that he was ‘a pinko,’ that is to say, a communist, and this because he would extol, praise, and shower good words on the Soviet Union, and would quote Lenin and Trotsky and other communist leaders, and was as thoroughly conversant in their writings as a pious Jew might be with the Ashrei prayer.

These guests were the intelligentsia of the group. The were others who were less intelligent, who discharged their obligation to participate by listening only. The old proverb, ‘The boundary to wisdom – is silence’ was apparently accepted by them, or quite simply, they may not have had anything to say.

As a child, I would lend an ear to the stories of this intelligentsia, which centered about pogroms against the Jews, about experiences in self-defense, about Jews who emigrated to America, and ‘made America’ for themselves there, on so-and-so, who ‘passed up America,’ and specifically chose to go to the Holy Land, and like subjects. For the sake of the truth, it is important to note that they did not only talk. If,

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God forbid, someone brought bad tidings about someone who fell seriously ill, or another person, a wagon driver, whose horse had stumbled, was injured and had to be put down, thereby losing his means of livelihood, – grandfather's guests would fulfil the mitzvah of ‘pick yourself up and go,’ organizes themselves in pairs, and go throughout the city to take up a collection on behalf of the needy or unfortunate individual. I didn't always pick up the names of those who received help, because in most instances, they also fulfilled the precept of giving charity in a clandestine manner, and would speak among themselves only in a whisper, so that the name of the person being helped not become public, and especially not a budding youngster like myself.

A Student at Farber's School – At A Good Time

Farber's School in 1932

After he left, our mother notified us with a festive air, that both of us, Berel and I, had been accepted as students in Farber's school, and the man who had just previously asked us a few questions (this apparently was the entrance examination) – was none other than Farber himself, and not every child was privileged enough to be accepted as a student in this school, which was one of the most distinguished in the city. From that day on, we impatiently waited for that special, lucky day.

That day was not long in coming. I remember it like it was today, that morning when my brother Berel and I were dresses in our holiday best, and our mother took us to Farber's Heder. Neighbors and acquaintances stopped us along the way, and showered us with good wishes aplenty. There were those who didn't stop with good wishes, and also pinched our cheeks, and our closest neighbors even honored us with their kisses. All of this made our hearts beat even faster. We knew with certainty: the city now knows, that Berel and I are going to ‘Farber.’

And so – we went. We passed by the cinema, and across the Mitzrayim Gasse, past the pharmacy beside the drainage canal. From there, we turned right, and we reached the Heder, or school. This school was on the Schulhof, and there were no less than five synagogues on this parcel of land, and they were:

1. The ‘Hayyatim’ Synagogue (on whose premises, our school was also located).
2. Der Alter Mauer Schul, where the famous Cantor Markus led prayer.
3. The New Mauer Schul
4. The Ein Yaakov Synagogue where our family worshiped, and finally,
5. The Great Synagogue, that was larger and more splendid than the others.

As mentioned, Farber's school was a school with a reputation. Classes, which were conducted in Ashkenazic Hebrew, began at 8AM, and continued until 3PM. Farber himself taught us Tanakh, literature, arithmetic and geography. His daughter gave us music lessons, and his son, David, led open discussions with us about Israel, Zionism, and other subjects, according to our desires. This entire ‘enterprise’ was run by the family. Farber himself had not graduated from a university or seminary, and

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had never received pedagogical training, but to the best of my knowledge he was a great teacher, and famous for giving special attention and instruction to each pupil. Frequently, he would come to the student's home in order to assist in the preparation of lessons. During vacation, he would invite his students to his home, and read them the poetry of Bialik, the stories of Zhul Varan and others. In general, we enjoyed his readings, and our impression that even more than we enjoyed it – he himself did as well…

I previously told about my maternal grandparents, but I will not skip over my paternal grandparents, who lived in Zamoscheh (that is what we called that part of the city that was over the bridge in the direction of the railroad station). They lived in this outlying area, in a low, wooden house, whose windows practically touched the ground, my grandmother Chaya-Rachel, next to which there was a brick building in which my grandfather Shmuel Chaim had his meat store; there were six partners in this business, and a bookkeeper worked for them to keep track of all the transactions. Apart from this, my father assisted them in the purchase of calves or sheep, transporting them to the kosher slaughterhouse, which was actually forbidden at that time in Poland, in accordance with a decision passed by the Polish Sejm. My father would deliver the goods to the merchants by means of a large wagon hitched to one horse, but in the passage of time, they bought two autos for the business, which made scheduled trips between Volkovysk and Bialystock, for purposes of buying and selling. Mulya Schein, who was the coach of the Maccabi soccer team, would frequently come to father, and ask my father to take the team to play in inter-city games, because the income of the group was insufficient to allow them to pay for transportation…

Father did not have set working hours, and he would work from the early morning until late into the night. He never complained about it. The important thing [to him] was that his sons receive a good education, and ‘become men…’

It appeared to me that in my grandparents' butcher shop, they gave away more than they sold. Grandfather would prepare packages for his needy, and grandmother would look after her needy, and it is not necessary to say that these distributions took place free of charge, but, in order not to, God forbid, embarrass the needy recipient, grandfather was in the habit of saying to people who entered his tore: “there is the package that you forgot to take.” From time to time, each would catch the other “pilfering” on behalf of the needy, and the refrain that was frequently heard in those instances was: “if you can do it – so can I ,” and similar excuses. Grandmother would say at every opportunity: May God help me to always give, and Heaven forbid, never to have to take….

The HaShomer HaTza'ir Organization

Rabbi Abba-Yaakov Borukhov, and the city Elders, with the emissaries of the Aid Committee from New York, after the First World War[2]

From this time on, I spent all my spare time, that was not dedicated to school and study, at the HaShomer offices. My luck was such that Hillel Epstein was my director, who took to his responsibilities with complete seriousness, and he led initiatives and ran meetings in a wondrous manner. He oversaw the training of the Tzofim, and stressed open field sports, night study, and character

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development. The discussions and conversations that were arranged in my group, enriched my spiritual world, and one can say, without fear of contradiction, that Hillel opened a window onto questions and issues that we were not even aware of, and tried very hard to achieve a world view in his educating process. The group also would put on public theater productions of our favorites, and Yaakov Einstein (a performer for Ohel for some years), especially was outstanding in this regard, and for a while was the head of the chapter.

In remember especially our Lag B'Omer parades, through the city streets in the direction of the Burkehs, where we would spend the whole day in song, sport, competition, etc. When we would return to the city towards evening, after leaving the camp in the Burkehs, there were hordes of Jews, who stood on both sides of the street, receiving us with shouts of praise, and there was a real sens of pride and satisfaction in marching with one's comrades in the movement. During the summer months, we would participate in camps that were set up in various villages of the surrounding area, and we lived either in barns and tents.

We had a special relationship to the orphanage headed by Mr. Shykevich. This institution was supported by the local community to the highest standard, and in order to assure that level, it was necessary to generate additional income. To that end, the children of that institution would present special plays on Hanukkah, and Purim, and we, the members of the movement, would help them with the sale of tickets, and looking after a variety of details, costumes, stage props, and there were some of our members who actually participated in the play itself. This relationship between us, and these children who had lost their parents, and were robbed their childhood, was a blessing to us and to them.

Upon completion of studies at the Farber School, students would then enter the Tarbut School. This was a fundamental change in every sense. Every subject at Tarbut was taught by a different teacher, and studies were conducted in Sephardic Hebrew, with each lesson lasting 45 minutes, and the curriculum had a different objective from that at Farber's school. It is important to note, that both in the chapter and in school, we spoke Hebrew among ourselves. My brother Berel truly excelled in his studies, and great things were predicted for him, by contrast, I showed great capability in manual trades, and after graduation, I began to study carpentry in Lidovsky's shop on the Tatarski Gasse, which had received commendation thanks to its owner, Meir Lidovsky, who was a master carpenter, a true artisan. At the same time, I started my first ‘romance,’ and instead of going to the chapter meetings – I spent time with my girlfriend.

Translator's footnotes:

1. Perish the thought, but he might have been – a Galitzianer! Return
2. Taken from Dr. Einhorn's Book, page 77. A translation of those sitting in this portrait is given in the first part of this Trilogy, on page 29. Return

In approach the recollection of these people with emotion and respect, simple, good people, who always knew how to protect the Jewish populace of the city against attacks of anti-Semites, especially in the days when Volkovysk was under Polish hegemony.

After the First World War, when Volkovysk returned again to Polish control, free trade began to develop again, but the issue of communication was a difficult one, because the trains at that time were for military use only. Various goods began to reach the starving and destitute population after the war. And the transportation of these goods was tied up in many difficulties. In the face of the great need, the porters and wagon drivers came together in one organization, and I was given the responsibility to set the price of transporting a variety of goods, such as iron, coal, cement, petroleum, flour, etc. A special group of wood porters was organized at that time, whose sole work was in the loading and distribution of wood only. Every Thursday, the porters and wagon drivers would come into Eliezer Kossowsky's coffee shop, and along with a piece of fish and a glass of beer, they would set the prices. The men of this group were: Herschel, Leibeh and Itcheh Munchik, the men of the large Bayer family, among them Abraham,

[Page 19]

who loved to tell lots of stories full of humor. All of these were observant Jews who would rush to the Ein Yaakov Bet HaMedrash, in order not to, God forbid, miss the Mincha service. They would park their wagons on some side street, and they would leave the whips that they carried near the fountain in the foyer of the Bet HaMedrash. What would these Jews not give to hear a cantor, or a sermon by a visiting itinerant preacher (Maggid)? Every time they left the Bet HaMedrash, they would slip a few kopecks out of their clothing, and cast them into a plate set by the exit. These Jews that I mentioned, and many others, whose names I cannot remember, that studied with me together with the teacher, Reb Leib-Ahareleh, saved the Jewish population of Volkovysk repeatedly from acts of plunder and killing. When the savage elements of the ‘Haller’ group reached our city, and they began to cut off the beards of Jews, and plunder their stores, they ran into a strong and organized resistance by these wagon drivers and porters, who zealously and heroically guarded the Jews and their honor. There were actually incidents when the Polish police requested their assistance in order to rein in such savage elements.

There was a special skirmish that took place between these heroes and the Poles who settled in the Volkovysk district. The local gentiles, hated these settlers, and in order to sublimate this hatred, these settlers would incite them against the Jews, and call on them to organize a pogrom. In particular, they would plan their pogroms for market days, when thousands of Christians streamed into the city, and it was easy to organize a pogrom.

In those days, the Jewish wagon drivers and porters manned the watch, did not go to their regular work, and stood at the ready, in the face of the imminent danger. The pogromists knew already with whom they would have to deal, because they had tasted the strong arm of this ‘gang’ more than once on their flesh. Even before the Polish police arrived to restore order, many of the rioters were rolling in the gutters bleeding profusely, with wounds all over their bodies. This was no secret, and everyone knew who ‘the boys’ were who inflicted their blows on these aroused pogromists: Jewish porters and wagon drivers, “the folks.”

Where are you, you bony Jews, with those heavy boots, with your square soles, with Your broad tanned noses, like those of lions? You – wagon drivers, cooks, porters, builders… That was your soft voices that emanated as if from an empty hollow And in your childlike eyes, it was the flashes of life danced about. The scent of the forest wafts from your parkas; an odor surrounds you, Of leather, the smell of mushrooms and grain husks. – But the bright prayer books that you borrowed from the Shames, you clutched like one holds Newly-hatched yellow chicks. You held them with the pleasure and tenderness of heroes, To pray, and nod your heads in song over their chaptered pages. And with the paws of an old bear Themselves scarred, you would carry awesome loads, sacks of flour to bend the body, boxes full of iron, piles of wood, and containers full of stones; from the warehouse to the wagon, and from the wagon To the warehouse; bales of wool and sheaves of grain, you carried them. And in the grip of one hand, To the teeming marketplace, you would subdue unruly horses, who reared back to break out of their reins. – A disturbance between Jews and gentiles, should it fall on a market day, should a quarrel break out Between thieving villagers and haggling women – you are always in the middle of the outbreak, standing And turning your broad shoulders to protect the weaker storekeepers, destitute widows, fishmongers And their orphans. And after everything, you accepted the sentence to go sit in jail, for those whom You protected.

(From the Song of Praise to the Common Man, of Zalman Schneur)

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