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[Page 202]

It was my good fortune that I left Zawiercie – and Poland in general – in the year 1919. Thus I was saved from the terrible fate of my parents, my siblings, but all the Zawiercie Jews. For this reason, however, I can only talk about Zawiercie before the First World War.

I will begin with the year 1894 (the year of my birth).

My mother used to tell me (as a tear fell from her eye) about the ceremony of my circumcision, which was in a rainy and snowy month of Shvat.^[1]

In those years the inundations of mud in Zawiercie rose “over your ears:^[2]” there weren't any paved streets back then, certainly not in the district that was called Little Zawiercie, on the other side of the textile department of the TAZ.^[3]

There on a Friday evening a Jewish child was born whose father was at that time in Moscow, serving in the Russian army.

The mother and her elderly father (the grandfather of the newborn) had to provide for the circumcision – but to whom did one turn? One went, of course, to Reb Moyshe Shoykhet (Moyshe Zaks), who was also a “moyhel.^[4]” Reb Moyshe promised to come to the circumcision.

And, in fact, on Saturday after prayers were over, Reb Moyshe Shoykhet and with him Reb Iser Dimant; Reb. Itshe Dovid Kipkevitsh; Reb Dovid Blokhozh; Reb Lipe Dovid the paver^[5]; Reb Berl the synagogue caretaker^[6]; Reb Pinye Vigderzon; Reb Yisroel Leyb Bozhikovski (“the cobbler^[7]” – as people used to call him); Herman Shayn, the old “feldsher^[8]” in the factory; Shmuel Dancyger, my mother's uncle; and also my grandfather, old Dancyger, all arrived. That was the quorum.^[9]

They all came to Little Zawiercie in spite of the rain and snow

[Page 203]

in order to carry out the religious obligation^[10] of participating in a circumcision. This shows the devotion that the Jews of Zawiercie showed to one another – from the early days of Zawiercie until much later – and up until the present day.^[11]

Until the 1860's, Zawiercie consisted of a few dozen small houses and barns. The little place was called “za – Vartshe” (on the far side of the Warta River^[12]). A small river flowed there, not far from the little village Marcziszow. Towns in the surrounding area, including Zawiercie, Blanowice, Losice, Marcziszow, and other small places, did not usually appear on maps. They all were included within Kromolow,^[13] which was on the map. Kromolow was the political center for all the surrounding towns and the center for the local Jews. By the standards of the time, a lot of Jews lived in Kromolow. The well–known Haberman brothers lived there. The large Haberman family eventually became widely known in Zawiercie. The Goldmintz brothers also lived in Kromolow, as did other Jews, and among them my great–grandfathers.

Many Jews emigrated – or better said, they fled – to Austria because of the law requiring 25 years of military service (the “kantonistn^[14]”). In the years 1873–1875, when the Ginzberg brothers started building their factory, there was a serious lack of workers because the rural population of the area was not accustomed at all to factory work. Therefore, the Russian government offered amnesty to all local deserters under the condition that they work in the factory. Among those granted amnesty were my grandfather, two of his brothers, and other Jews. Those who came back had to work in the factory together with their children, not only because of their legal obligation but also simply to make a living. My mother always used to tell us children that she was six or seven years old when my grandfather first carried her to work on his shoulders because the snow was so deep. During the winter time people were also afraid of wolves that roamed the area.

[Page 204]

My mother's parents lived at that time in so–called Little Zawiercie, very close to the factory. Later the “konzum^[15]” stood there.

For several reasons, Zawiercie had hopes of becoming known as a center of industry and commerce:

1. The railway line from Warsaw to Vienna, which was very important for industry.
2. The extremely flat and even ground throughout the area – something which in those times was very important for building industrial projects.
3. The water sources of the Warta River, which flowed from Kromolow. They came together with the waters of Ogrodzieniec not far from the “Vidra.^[16]” Further on they joined with the waters that flow in the Levinshteyn gardens.^[17] The combined waters spread at times across the middle of the town, through the alleys, and also not far from the old marketplace.^[18]

[Page 205]

The best and biggest attraction in town was wintertime by the well. People used to go there to ice skate – regardless of the cursing and arguing of the well–known water–carriers, among whom was “Big Rudolf.” Zawiercie was built, developed, and grew from day to day. People made quite a respectable living there.

The year 1904, just before the Russo–Japanese War, was a time of prosperity in Poland, and in Zawiercie as well. The big factories operated at full capacity, and many smaller factories opened in Zawiercie at that time. As regards workers, however, there was a labor shortage. The Russian government was meanwhile in need of a workforce for the war, so it sent soldiers to work in the Zawiercie factories. There were many Jews among the soldiers. Most of them came to the synagogue on the Sabbath or on holidays to pray. The Jewish families invited the soldiers to their homes to eat after services.

With the outbreak of the Russo–Japanese war, the Russians removed the soldiers from the factories and sent them to the front.

On the first day of Passover, the Jews of Zawiercie didn't allow themselves to rest until they secured food that was kosher for Passover for the Jewish soldiers.

After great effort on the part of the devoted Jewish leaders, the Russian authorities allowed them to provide suitable Passover food to the soldiers. Within a few hours the generous Zawiercie Jews collected all kinds of good things: meat, matza, fish, and eggs – enough to last for every Jewish soldier during the eight days of Passover.

During this period young students in Zawiercie organized a yeshiva in the “beys–medresh,^[24]” where they studied on their own and also gave classes for other students. They studied the Torah “for its own sake.^[25]” As well as I can remember, some of the students were: Zelig Maimon's son, Aaron; Reb Iser Diamant's son, Eyle Glikszteyn; Reb Avreymele Gantsveykh's sons (Shloymele and Velvele); and Reb Shloymele's son, Moyshe. Deserving of special mention is the subsequent head of the yeshiva, Reb Simkhe Mendl Naygeboyer, who was Reb Ber Sznayder's son. The Zawiercie yeshiva became known in many areas of Poland. It attracted students from all over the country. As a result, there arose a question as to how to feed and house the arriving students.

[Page 206]

Once again the Zawiercie Jews, and the tradespeople^[26] in particular, demonstrated their capabilities: they willingly made public that they would offer and room board to the yeshiva students – one or two days a week at each household.^[27]

This support attracted the most gifted students to Zawiercie. Many students who studied in the Zawiercie yeshiva became great scholars with reputations across Poland.

The yeshiva was the pride of the Zawiercie Jews, good, kind Jews who were always ready to make sacrifices for each other.

Of course, there was also a charitable organization in Zawiercie, “Linat Tsedek”.^[28] These were people who sat by the side of the sick all night long, or they did so during the day without being paid. The duty was carried out with love. No questions were asked – one went because one knew that such help was for the common good.

It was wonderful to see how the crowd gathered every early morning at the “beys–medresh” to sit at the long tables and study the Torah. Some of them would recite the psalms with great fervor. Some of them, after praying, would drink tea with Reb Moyshe, Reb Meir Lelever's son–in–law. Moyshe had a gigantic samovar in a corner by the oven, and he made money from it. It was a great pleasure – outside it was completely dark and very cold, and inside the “beys–medresh” it was already bright and warm. How honest and sincere was the “good morning” that one Jew extended to another! One would answer with enthusiasm, “Good morning! Good year!” It's difficult to describe on paper the Jewish warmth and brotherly spirit of the old days. Yes, those were good days.

In our youthful days, we 13 to 14 year old friends who studied together in the “cheder” (religious school) started an organization of students that used to meet every Sabbath and holiday. We had our own quorum^[29] (in the house of Efroym “Kotsher^[30]”). Today several of the students from that group are students here in Israel: Yosef Finkl, Avrum Ber Norkh, –– if I'm not mistaken, Melekh Gutman was also one of them –– and I.^[31] This was in the years 1910–1912. At the same time we also studied professions. We divided ourselves according to age: the first group consisted of Volf Toper, Shmuel Meser, Lipe Rotmentsz, the second – Dovid Vortsman, Dovid Meir Grinblat, Itshe Meser, Leyzer Dombrovski, Moshe Yitshok Manovitsz,

[Page 207]

Hershl Yablonski, Efroym Dancyger, and I were all painters.^[32] Other professions included: Khayim Vortsman – a roofer; Shmuel Toper – a hatmaker; Dovid Toper – a tailor. We were all classmates from the cheder. There were no unions in Zawiercie then.^[33] Young people often wandered around with nothing to do: some read, some spent time together. One accepted everything as it was. We lived in this happy and harmonious way until the First World War broke out in 1914. Then the Zawiercie young people broke apart from one another and scattered.

The situation in our town was not good during this time. Some of our friends left for Germany to work in the coal mines. Some became active in the black market or worked as smugglers. For some families the economic situation became very difficult. Once again we relied on mutual aid, as was the practice in Zawiercie.

When the war finally ended, the Jewish youth began to come to life a little bit. Various unions were started. The older people as well as the up–and–coming young people filled these unions. I belonged to the “United” party – the continuation of the S. S. Party.^[34] Dr. Yoysef Kruk used to come to Zawiercie for lectures and discussions. The discussions brought our youth to life to some degree. The “Zionist Workers^[35]” and Zionists were always holding discussions amongst themselves. Each group did its work in the larger society, and each was active within its own circle. I couldn't devote much time to the party then because I had a party of my own – a wife and a child. My situation at that time wasn't so easy. I left Zawiercie in 1919, and maybe I'm in Israel today because of the relationships I made in the Zawiercie of those days.

[Page 208]

Saturday evening after Sabbath ended during Chanuka of 1915– the period of the First World War – I had the good luck to become a groom. Of course, it was a great joy for me, for my bride, and for my relatives. Fine if modest weddings could still be celebrated in Zawiercie because the front was a way off. The area around Zawiercie and Zawiercie itself were divided by the railroad line into German and Austrian occupation zones. The right side of Zawiercie and the territory that lay to the right of the railroad tracks (Kromolow, Pilice, etc.) were Austrian territory. The left side (Poreba, Siewierz, etc.) was the German zone of occupation.

The border was heavily guarded by the occupying armies of both Austria and Germany because there was a very active smuggling trade. The Austrians occupied the most economically productive lands in Poland. The German zone had less productive land but was more industrialized. The economy of Austro–Hungary was in fact mostly based on agriculture, and Germany's much less so. Therefore, Germany imported more from its part of Poland than Austro–Hungary did.

In the Austrian zone of occupation there was no lack of food, but in the German zone there was. Smuggling paid. Everyone smuggled – some took a kilo of butter and some eggs in their pockets, just to cover household expenses, and others sold large transports in order to make a living.

There was also legal commerce with the approval of both occupying forces in order to guarantee the distribution of food to the population of Zawiercie and the surrounding area, on the German side in particular.

Because the house where the military authorities were stationed was not far from my parent's house (by the crossing),^[37] Jewish officers in the Austrian army used to come to visit. I got to know them well.

Once an officer asked me if I could contact someone who could get flour in order to make bread for the people in Zawiercie.

[Page 209]

I said that I would be able to do so. I did this in partnership with Leyb Rushinek.

Since the railroad bridges were all destroyed, everything had to be transported by horse and wagon.

So we rode out into the countryside – to Poreba, Zarki, etc. – and we worked at full speed.

So it was, in the heaviest period of our commercial activity, I became, as I said, a groom. On the night that my “conditions” were signed, at 10:30 at night, after I had been entertaining my bride and the “conditions” ceremony guests, Leybush Rusinek arrived and whispered in my ear that we had to go to Zarki, and I had to go because the authorization to do business was made out in my name.

Did I have a choice? We went.

We went through the crossing between Zawiercie and Zarki, where an Austrian soldier was always posted to inspect travelers to make sure they had passes.

“Pre – pu – sku,^[38]” – said an Austrian soldier, a Hungarian.

I quickly put my hand in my chest pocket in order to take out my pass, my “przepustke.” I took out a large stack of papers – the “conditions” for my wedding that had been written a few hours earlier – and gave them to the Austro–Hungarian soldier. I saw immediately that when changing, I must have taken the “conditions” instead of my pass.

The soldiers turned the papers one way and another and could not figure them out. Leybush was also stunned: “What did you give him?” he asked me.

In the moment that I understood what had happened, I couldn't help bursting out into laughter.

The soldier became angry and took the rifle off his shoulder. He yelled at me, “Na kom – an – dan – ture” (into the command post!) and pointed the way with his hand to a small, nearby house.

[Page 210]

The guardhouse was squat and small (no more than two or three rooms). It had previously functioned as the guards' quarters by the railroad crossing.

A wave of warmth hit me, penetrating my frozen limbs as I entered the first room. There were more soldiers in the other rooms of the guardhouse, and they had taken care that the rooms were well–heated.

The soldier who had led me in from outside left me with the soldiers in the guardhouse. With the “conditions” in his hand, he went in to the watch commander, who was an Austrian Jew.

After a couple minutes, the commander came over to me in the first room. He approached me, holding the “conditions” in his hand, and in a loud voice said, “Congratulations, groom!” and gave me his hand.

“I am delighted, completely delighted, that you came here today,” he said.

I wondered why the Jew was so delighted, but I didn't wonder for long. The Jewish officer invited me in to his room. As he did so, he told me he was doing so in order that the non–Jewish soldiers wouldn't see how he happy he was.

“I am delighted because you and the other Jews that are still outside are like a gift from Heaven,” said the watch commander.

The soldier who had brought me in from outside stood by perplexed, and, clicking his heels like a good soldier, ordered the other soldiers, “Attention!” He raised his hand to his hat in a salute, and the other soldiers did the same back to him.

I remained with the Jewish watch commander in his office. I saw that he was crying and couldn't speak.

Frightened, I asked him what had happened, and why he was crying.

He asked me to sit down and asked me how many Jews were still outside. I told him, eleven.

[Page 211]

When he heard that, his face lit up with joy.

“Good,” he said. “Come outside with me to see the other Jews, and I'll tell you all my story.”

We went outside, and he told us the following: “My name is Shloyme Blat, and I'm an imperial soldier. I've lived through a lot. I've been on many battlefields. Now my regiment has come to your district for some rest, and I am very happy to be able to rest and recover my strength. Things don't always work out the way you want, though. After a short time here, the military post brought me a letter from home, and at first I was happy to see it, but when I opened it and read it, I received the terribly sad news that my mother has died.”

He stopped for a moment because he could barely speak, and then he went on:

“It happened, according to the letter, exactly a year ago. Today, precisely, is my mother's death anniversary, ‘yortsayt.’^[39] As prescribed by religious law, after Sabbath ended I sat down for an hour of mourning.^[40] I thought and thought, how would I be able to say ‘Kaddish?^[41]’ I beg you, dear Jews, make it possible for me to say Kaddish for my mother for the first time.”

The Jewish watch commander took out a small volume of psalms, recited a chapter, and then he said the first Kaddish for his mother. He said it while he was standing outside, under the open sky, in a foreign country, where he knew no one.

“And now, my dear Jews,” he said to us, “Move fast and see to it that you get back to Zawiercie as soon as possible. The inspecting officer will be here early in the morning, and he could cause trouble.”

He asked us to come back and bring Khaneke candles (it was Khaneke at the time).

We did what he asked. We went back to Zawiercie as quickly as possible. Early in the morning, on time, we were back at the post and brought the Jewish watch–commander Chanuka candles, brandy for a toast, and something to eat along with it.

The Jew recited a couple psalms and said Kaddish again.

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After praying the Jewish soldier from “Reyshe^[42]” said farewell to us and thanked us from his heart.

He said that he hoped we would think of him and of his mother's death anniversary, yortsayt, every Chanuka.

Every year at the end of Sabbath during Chanuka, I think of this event, and I become very sad, after the Nazi blood bath, when I recall that there were once better times, even under German occupation.

Once…once…^[43]

Translator's Footnotes

1. Usu. January or February. All footnotes are those of the translator – parentheses and quotation marks in the text, unless otherwise noted, are the author's. Return
2. Inundations of mud, in Yiddish “blotes,” filled small town streets during the spring throughout the plains of Poland, Ukraine, and Russia, making movement almost impossible. In English we might say, “up to your ears” instead of “over” them. Return
3. The textile factory built by the Ginsberg brothers in Zawiercie in 1873 was called the “Towarzistwo Aktzine Zawiercie” or TAZ – meaning “Zawiercie Incorporated.“ See pg. 4 in Warnesko's article, “Once…Once…,” and pg. 1 of “Zawiercie” by Roytmentsh. Return
4. A “moyhel” (Heb. “mohel”) is someone trained to perform religious circumcisions. Moyshe Zaks seems also to have also been a ritual slaughterer, a “shoykhet” (Heb. “shokhet”), as his nickname indicates. Return
5. Yid., “bruker” Return
6. Yid., “shames” Return
7. Yid., “shustak” or usu., “shustshak” – “cobbler.” As with other Yiddish terms for shoemaker, this one can be pejorative (meaning “simpleton”) although here it seems to be used in a neutral sense – “the shoe guy.” Return
8. A “feldsher” served as a doctor without having any formal training – often they learned their trade in the army while in the “feld” or field, from which the word derives. I've kept the Yiddish term and put it in quotation marks since I know of no English equivalent. Return
9. Yid., “minyen” (fr. Heb., “minyan”), literally “count,” used to refer to the minimum of ten men required for religious observances. Return
10. Yid., “mitsve,” fr. Heb., “mitsva,” lit., a commandment – in general, a good deed. Return
11. It seems that when writing this last phrase (Yid.: “bizn hayntikn tog”), the writer has let the Zawiercie of his time, which would have been virtually emptied of Jews by WWII, slip from his mind. Return
12. As also mentioned by Roytmentsh Return
13. The Yiddish pronunciation, “Krimilev,” is used by the writer. Return
14. As these soldiers were called in Russian. The term, “Kantonists,” originally referred to children of conscripted soldiers in the Russian empire who went to special schools (with an eye to their own eventual conscription), beginning in 1721 after a decree of Peter the Great. Later the term came to refer to forced Jewish conscripts who were required to serve in the army for 25 years. In fact, other minorities in the Russian Empire suffered similar treatment. The “Kantonist” era proper as applied to Jews lasted from 1827 to 1857. Forced conscription for lesser periods of service continued, however – and Dancyger may well be referring to this. Return
15. Perhaps a kind of store – “konsumowac” in Polish means “to consume,” with meaning similar to English, i.e., to buy and make use of consumer products. Or perhaps an abbreviation as was typical of the period: “Kon…zum…?” Return
16. I am unable to identify this place name and am giving the Yiddish transcription. “Wydra” is a town in Poland NW of Czestochowa, which in turn is north from Zawiercie, in the opposite direction from Ogrodzieniec. At any rate a river or water source is meant. The area around Zawiercie, as our writer makes clear, is flat and well –watered by rain and snow, so “waters,” or tributary streams, ponds, and marshes, abound. The Warta is Poland's third largest river and flows into the Oder, on the border between Poland and Germany. Return
17. The philanthropic Levinshteyn family is mentioned by Roytmentsh. Return
18. See note 2, above. Return
19. The textile factory is presumably that of the Ginzberg brothers, also mentioned by Roytmentsh and other Zawiercie writers. Monika Warnesko gives the order in which these factories were built differently than Dancyger. Return
20. Polish, “szklarnia” – lit., “greenhouse” or glasshouse, an indoor agricultural installation, also mentioned by Roytmentsh and others. Return
21. The purpose of this “etc.” in the original text is unclear. Return
22. Yid., “lyodes” – this might mean “ices” or ice cream, but I'm guessing the writer has in mind the Polish word, “lodes” – counters, i.e., opportunities to buy all kinds of things. Return
23. Perhaps a street? Or, perhaps a quarry of some kind, from “tatryt,” Pol. for a kind of granite? Return
24. A yeshiva is a religious school for young men; in many cases, as here, the students studied on their own or in association with other students, without the benefit of teachers. A “beys–medresh,” literally a “house of study,” is an institution which functions as a library, a school, and synagogue – religiously educated men often spend the day (and the night) there, studying religious texts, either individually or in groups. Return
25. Dancyger uses the Hebrew expression, “lishma.” The point is that such study was performed out of religious devotion, not as a means to achieve professional or other goals. Return
26. Yid. and Heb., “baley–melokhe,” lit., “workmen,” i.e., artisans, handworkers, or tradespeople, such as shoemakers, tailors, roofers, carpenters. Return
27. The Yiddish term used by Dancyger for “room and board” is “kest” – this most often refers to a young married couple living with the bride's parents so the husband can continue his religious studies and/or learn the family business – but here room and board for an individual yeshiva student is meant. This is more often called “esn teg” – literally “eating days.” Return
28. The term that Dancyger uses, “Lines Tsedek” (Hebr. “Linat Tsedek”) means literally, “Dwelling of Justice.” This most often refers to an organization that provided lodging for travelers. One that did the type of charity work Dancyger describes here, i.e. visiting the sick, usually carried the name, “Bikur Khoylim” (Heb., “Bikur Kholim”). These and other names for Jewish charitable organizations come from the text of the Jewish prayerbook. Return
29. Yid., “minyen” –– see note 9, above. Here a quorum for prayers seems to be meant. Return
30. The qu. marks are Dancyger's. A “kotsh” is a coach – so this may refer to a coach–driver, but “kotsher” is a “drake” or male duck. Return
31. The author seems to slip again here. Men who were “students” with Dancyger as young men in Zawiercie during WWI could hardly still be students in Israel after World War II. The term that the author uses for student is “bokhurim,” which can also be used for young men in general, but in this case the same point would apply. Return
32. Dancyger/Dancyger uses the Polish word, “molozhes (malorzes),” with Hebrew “tsevayim” in parentheses. Presumably he means house painters since none of the other students described here are studying art. Return
33. Yid., “fareyn” is usually translated as “union,” i.e., a labor union, but Dancyger seems to use it as a general term for political parties. Return
34. What Dancyger means by the “S.S.” party is uncertain. In his article, Roytmentsh makes clear the “United” was a socialist party, but the Polish Socialist Party was generally abbreviated as “P.P.S.” Return
35. Heb. – “Po'aley Tsyon,” literally, “Workers of Zion.” This was a socialist Zionist organization which broke off from the Bund, which was anti–Zionist. Return
36. Yid., “tenoyim” (fr. Heb., tenayim). The “conditions” of engagement between a bride and groom were written out (in Hebrew) and signed at a special ceremony which constituted what we would now call the “engagement” or public commitment to marry. Return
37. Pol., “przejazd” – drive(way) or crossing. My understanding is that Dancyger means the crossing point between Austrian and German zones of occupation, as indicated by the top of the next page. Return
38. A halting version of “przepustke” – Polish for “pass.” Return
39. Yid., “a year's time” – the anniversary of a person's death, which is marked by Jews in various ways, including the reciting of “kaddish,” a prayer recited for the benefit of the departed, as the officer will go on to discuss. Return
40. The term that the officer uses is “shive,” lit., “seven,” which usually refers to the seven–day period of mourning that follows a person's burial. The term seems misplaced here, a year after the death of the officer's mother, but I take him to be using it to mean “mourning” in general. Return
41. See note 38. Kaddish requires a quorum of ten and, as soon becomes apparent, should be preceded by prayers, Torah study, or the recitation of psalms. Return
42. This is the first time that the writer mentions where the Jewish officer came from. Not a familiar place–name to me, “Reyshe” could refer to Rajcza, Poland, in SW Poland near the border with Slovakia, or Ricse, Hungary, both within the then–Austro–Hungarian empire. Return
43. Coincidentally, this is also the subtitle of the article about Zawiercie by Monika Warnesko. Return

At the beginning of the 20^th century the socialist movement in Poland was confronted with very difficult and historically significant problems. The tsarist, Cossack tyranny reigned and a stubborn and systematic struggle for freedom and independence from the country [Russia] had to be carried on. The tsarist tyrants especially oppressed the Polish nation. Therefore, the socialist movement carried on a stubborn struggle against Tsarism as a national and social oppressor.

A fighting group of the P.P.S. [Polska Partia Socjalistyczna – Polish Socialist Party] organization was active in Zawiercie. My father was an active comrade in it.

The Governor General [Pyotr Arkadyevich] Stolypin ruled in Poland. He was known to everyone as a tyrant, hangman and misanthrope. Tens of P.P.S. comrades were hanged at his order. Stolypin came to Poland right after the assassination attempt on the previous Governor General [Georgi] Skalon by the P.P.S. comrade [Wanda] Krahelska.

My father, Yosef Danziger, belonged to the well-known P.P.S. fighting division that carried the name Finf [Five] because it consisted of five well-known P.P.S. comrades. In addition to my father, the

[Page 213]

group was: Feliks Bereza, Jan Kwapinski, Wrublewski and one more whose name I do not remember.

My father would smuggle weapons from Austria and Germany for the party. He would also carry out various actions under the party name “Kagin.”

The P.P.S. Party once learned that Silvester Pudla was a secret police informer and that he had betrayed the party. Pudla was sentenced to death by an underground court.

The sentence was carried out in January 1907, on a cold winter evening in such a manner: Pudla was walking with his beloved in a side alley off Aptek [Apothecary] Street; he was shot during his stroll.

There was a commotion in the morning: searches, arrests. The Cossacks also carried out searches in my parents' house. They turned over everything in the house. Comrades from the P.P.S. were arrested, including my father.

The tsarist person in power sent the arrestees to jail in Bendin [Bedzin]. From there, after three months, the secret police sent them to Czentochow and then to the tribunal in Piotrokow. There, two P.P.S. comrades were sentenced to death. The judgment concerning my father was exile in shackles to Siberia. My mother ran to the police chief. She wrote to the governor in Warsaw and appeald against the judgment. As a result, my mother also was arrested and sent to jail in Czentochow; she became very ill as a result of blows and hardship. Sick and broken, she was freed after a few months in jail. The P.P.S. Party gave my father's case to a better attorney.

My father returned home to Zawiercie after four years of forced labor in Siberia. The entire city celebrated. However, the joy did not last long. My father was arrested as a political activist and was exiled again.

I was then six weeks old. I remained with my mother, whose fate it was to remain alone, without her husband, during her most beautiful years of youth. Her best years passed, tortured by worry, longing and waiting for my father's return home.

On the calendar it already was 1914. I was four years old. There was serious talk about war. In August 1914, my mother came home dejected and embittered and told me that the war had broken out.

With my childish sense I began to convince my mother that she should not cry because now my father would surely come home shortly.

[Page 214]

The situation in Zawiercie became very difficult with the outbreak of the war; there was a lack of food. Working people and the poor classes starved. The Russians left the city. The Germans marched in through Siewierz and occupied Zawiercie. Aid campaigns were created in the city. Committees with the purpose of helping the sick, poor, and so on were created.

The years passed slowly, full of worry and problems. Suddenly we learned that my father was alive; he was freed as a political activist at the time of the Russian Revolution and in 1918 he came home to Zawiercie. Hundreds of people welcomed him. I was then eight years old.

My father was mobilized by the Polish Army in 1919. This was at the time when General [Kazimierz] Sosnkowski had gone to Kiev in order to “liberate” Poland. My father immediately was exiled by Sosnkowski's clique to Jablonka, where the Polish government had created a concentration camp for politically active Jews. My father was not freed until 1921.

The Polish-Soviet War ended. The times again were normal. Zawiercie developed again. The industries were working and it appeared that the situation had normalized again.

In 1932 my father received various awards in the name of the president of the Polish Republic for his active part in the struggle to liberate Poland. As a former political arrestee, for his fight for Poland's independence he received a monthly retirement pension.

We lived a beautiful, quiet and satisfied life – until the outbreak of the German-Polish War and the Nazis made a ruin of our home. In 1940 my father was sent to Dachau. In 1941, during the first deportation of the Zawiercie Jews, my sick mother was brought to the marketplace by force with many other Zawiercie Jews and sent from there to Auschwitz. My two sisters unsuccessfully clung to her.

My father was freed from Dachau at the time when the Nazi beasts sent my mother to be annihilated. He lived just like the other Zawiercie Jews in the ghetto. He was annihilated with all of the Zawiercie Jews in August 1943.

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What is written below really happened in Bedzin (my birthplace) before I became a full-blooded Zawiercier. However, I think that given that similar things happened in Zawiercie during those years and whereas people from Zawierice are entangled in the plot (along with naturalized Zawiercier like me), this description has a place in this book

* * *

As a boy of just 14, I felt the revolutionary excitement among the young people, mainly among the working young – journeymen^[1] with artisans making inexpensive goods (makers of boots, shoes, clothing, underpants, straw mattresses, socks and so on). Journeymen for tailors [who took measurements] earned a little more. The working conditions also were better for them; they were not enslaved as the journeymen with the artisans making inexpensive goods. They were humanely treated: they did not have to empty the slop pail into the sewers, bring in coal from the shop, wash the dirty diapers.

Therefore, the bitterness was mainly among the journeymen with the artisans making inexpensive goods. Their hearts were bitter because of the general conditions and not so strongly against their bosses, who then were even more enslaved. They, the bosses, had to cut out the pieces to be sewn, press the finished clothing. If they had a little time, they would sew linings thusly: they stepped on the sewing machine treadle with their right foot; with their left on the cradle. The children would lie in the cradle in such a manner that one child touched the head of another with its foot.

An artisan had to do these two things at once because his wife was busy at the oven and was preparing dinner. The sages say: “One angel does not perform two missions” – and this is said particularly about a woman, God help us.” In any case, she does do more than two things at once. She makes sure that there is enough soft pearl barley for the krupnik [barley soup], that the calves foot [jelly] is fat and well garlicked…

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It is also clear: the journeyman, God forbid, was not angry at the boss and after such a feast [of krupnik and calves foot jelly], which, in our region, he would eat with a piece of dried wheat bread, he did not rage with hostility at his boss and the boss' wife.

* * *

Yet, for the journeyman, as a slave worker, the dissatisfaction grew from day to day. This was expressed in various small harassments, for example, with regard to the clothing merchants. As I was born in Bedzin, I remember this matter from there. All clothing merchants were Jews there.

A number of children from rich families joined these journeymen. They did so for ideological reasons.

At first, the youth movement carried out internal propaganda, but immediately turned to active deeds.

I remember: once on a Shabbos [Sabbath], when Jews were going to pray, we suddenly saw that Cossacks were running through the streets and shooting at everyone, whomever they saw.

This gunfire lasted two hours. There were not many deaths because the Jews immediately ran back into their houses. The Cossacks only had orders to shoot in the streets.

At first we did not know the reason for the shooting, but we immediately learned the cause:

Revolutionaries – apparently from the Bund – had carried out a pogrzeb [funeral] at the cmentarz (Christian cemetery) for a revolutionary who had been shot.

The victim was a small link in the long chain of terror and anti-terror at that time.

There was a straznik [watchman] in Bedzin, who caused a great deal of hardship for the revolutionaries.

Once, this policeman stood on watch; someone from a group of revolutionaries ran to him from behind and

shot the policeman to death. The Cossacks immediately took their blood-thirsty revenge. They shot several innocent people.

One of those who died was a member of the Polish Socialist Party or another Christian revolutionary, for whom the revolutionaries in Bedzin (majority Jews) made an impressive funeral. At this funeral the Cossacks again went wild and shot into the crowd.

* * *

At that time, [my parents] provided in our house in Bedzin for my future brother-in-law, Berish Najman, the son of Reb Lozer the melamed [religious teacher]. He came to us for Shabbos [Sabbath] with a present for my sister, his bride, Libele.

The story of the match is thus:

My father often traveled to the Krimelever rebbe [leader of a Hasidic sect] for Shabbos. I remember very well that my father once took me with him for Shabbos.

Wagon drivers from Krimilev always waited in Zawiercie at the przejazd [thoroughfare], ready to take the Hasidim to the holy community of Krimilev. The price for a “fully-formed” Hasid was 15 kopikes and for a bit of Hasid – like me, for example – only 10 kopikes. The discount price in my case was because they squeezed me in among the suitcases, in the corner with the polkoszek [baskets]. When I crawled out of there, my long, coarse coat looked like a creased rag. However, when I went into the rebbe, his son, Chaim'l, gave me a warm Sholem Aleichem [said hello], because I then was just as much of a great scholar as he was. In addition, we were good friends. We immediately began to talk about Torah. As his teacher was the older Reb Tuyve and he saw that I was a more proficient student than Chaim'l, he asked the rebbitzen [wife of a rabbi] to give me a small sugar cake as a gift. If I had not been ashamed I would have asked for another small sugar cake because I was very hungry… Given that I had another friend in Krimilev, Yasha Ber – a son of Yisroel the baker – he took care that my stomach would not be empty when I came to them for a visit.

Once, when the Krimilever [Rebbe] was living in Zawiercie, it happened that my father took me with him from Bedzin to Zawiercie to visit the rebbe. There we learned that the rebbe had traveled to his brother in Radomsk. We were forced to observe Shabbos at Yosele Zalcberger's [house].

A young man of twenty something was there. Yosele Zalcberger's wife and my father whispered a secret that the young man was a suitable match for my sister and he would be satisfied with a dowry of 400 rubles.

Thus a match was made between Berish Najman and my sister Libele.

* * *

As Berish was a little bashful, on his visit to his bride he brought along his comrade and close friend, Zalman Wigodski. It already was between Minkhah and Maariv [afternoon and evening prayers]. We all sat in a good mood. Suddenly, shooting began to resound without end. Young people ran in to us and to a neighbor. Blood was flowing from some of them. We all became agitated and we were afraid that the bullets would come in to us through the windows. We had a side alcove with a small window that looked out on a low building. The young men jumped out of the small window to the roof and they jumped from there and thus saved themselves. We then learned that the shooting was a result of a denunciation and why:

Several members of the Bund entered Yosele Erlich's house of study, which was next door to our house, and ordered the Gerer Hasidim, who were praying Minkhah there, to give the house of study to them [the Bund members] so that they could hold a meeting. When the meeting was in its very fervor, the Cossacks entered as a result of a denunciation and began to shoot everyone at the meeting. Those taking part in the meeting began to run and created a commotion in the house. The Cossacks shot after them…

Clearly, we did not sleep for the entire night.

Translator's Footnote

1. The author of this article uses the Yiddish word, gezeln, meaning journeymen, but what he is describing seems more likely to be apprentices. Return

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I left Zawiercie with my parents and family members to immigrate to Israel before I was even eighteen years old. More than that: I resided a few years outside Zawiercie even before (starting at the age of thirteen), as I studied in yeshivas in other places.

Despite this – all my thoughts and yearnings, like those of my friends, were given to Zawiercie. I remember how we used to talk - a group of friends, from Zawiercie - walking the streets of Tel Aviv on Shabbat and holiday nights, and most of the time the topic of our conversation was: Zawiercie. We would speak in praise of Zawiercie, about its uniqueness in terms of its character that would distinguish it from other cities. Among this group of the young guys from Zawiercie were Mordechai Boim, may God avenge him, (his brother was the judge, Rabbi Chaim Boim), Yaakov Lublin (who now lives in the USA), and others.

Do not think I am biased because of my love and attachment to my Zawiercie. There was something characteristic about the qualities of the city's Jews: gentleness, kindness, idealism, and a natural affinity for the Torah and intelligence. A Jewish resident of Zawiercie had all these qualities in him. People in the whole Jewish world recognized the Jews from Zawiercie according to these qualities, even though they did not know in advance what his place of origin was.

The attribution of these qualities to the Jews in the city was for a justified reason. Many people worked hard in order that the traditional young generation and the traditional townspeople, in general, would achieve these qualities. I will mention only a few here, among the most prominent, who inspired their spirit over the characteristic of the townspeople: the Rabbi of Kromolow and his family members, the Rabbi of Kozieglowy, Reb Yoel Czweigel, Reb Shimon Karnitzer, the families: Erlich, Berger, Haberman, Herzberg, Windman, Landau, Lieberman, Bernstein, Fruman, Karan, Kleiner, Rosenberg, Rushinek and more.

There were also among other circles of the Jewish community in Zawiercie great personalities, possessing great qualities that inspired their spirits over the people close to them.

The descendants of Reb Yeshaya, the son of Rabbi Zvi Haberman, were among the first to establish a home in Zawiercie. Reb Yeshaya - and perhaps his father - settled in Kromolow, which is an ancient city (the fort, where the Haberman family lived, was built during the reign of Casimir the great, 500 years ago, from 1333 to 1370).

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Before the establishment of Zawiercie, Reb Yeshaya was engaged in Kromolow in the manufacturing of thick fabrics for winter coats. He probably succeeded in his business, because he lent money to the landowner of Kromolow, the “Paritz” and the farmers in its surrounding area. When “the Paritz” had difficulty paying off his debts, he sold to Reb Haberman all the land areas of Kromolow and its surrounding area, including areas where Zawiercie was later established.

Reb Yeshaya was a Hasidic of Radomsko. Under the influence of his wife, he invited Rabbi N. N. Rabinowitz, who was the son of “Chesed LeAvraham” and the Rabbi of Radomsko, to settle in Kromolow. Rabbi N. N. Rabinowitz was later called the Rabbi of Kromolow. Rabbi Yeshaya's wife claimed that this invitation was a virtue for raising good sons.

Rabbi N. N. Rabinowitz, who accepted this invitation, founded a yeshiva in Kromolow, to which students flocked from near and far. Even the head of the “Keter Torah” Yeshiva in Czestochowa, where I studied in 5609, learned at the time, as he told me, at the Kromolow Yeshiva.

Reb Yeshaya supported the yeshiva with his own funds, and all the students of the yeshiva ate at his table.

One of Rabbi Yeshaya's sons was Reb Shlomo Haberman, who was the “Dszedzhetz” of Kromolow and Zawiercie. He married the granddaughter of “Tiferet Shlomo” from Radomsko and received from his father an eighth of the Haberman's estate in Kromolow and Zawiercie.

His home was open to everyone. He was philanthropic and supported scholars.

He donated the plot of the synagogue and Beit Midrash (on which the management of the factory Ginsberg – T.A.Z. built the synagogue and the Beit Midrash). He also donated a plot to the city's Jewish cemetery. To balance his philanthropy, he donated a plot to the Christian cemetery.

With his donation of an amount of two thousand rubles to the Meir Baal Hanes Fund, a house named after him was established in Me 'a Shearim in Jerusalem.

He was the father-in-law of Reb Shimon Karnitzer, of Yosef Landau (the son of Binyamin Moshe), as well as of Rabbi B.C. Grasfeld, who served as the Rabbi of Lazy and in Sztaszeksztajn. Besides his two daughters, he had two more sons and five daughters. His daughter Esther Benet lives in Jerusalem and his daughter Rachel Miriam Landau lives in Tel Aviv.

Zawiercie developed, as commonly known, with the establishment of several factories. First and foremost, thanks to the large textile factory founded by the Ginsberg brothers, born in Czestochowa, who came to our city from Berlin. They were relatives of Reb Hanoch (Hendel) Landau

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from Bedzin. With the establishment of the factory, the above-mentioned was asked to supply the timber for the factory and he settled in Zawiercie. Thus, the large Landau family came together in Zawiercie, and so did Reb Leibl Berger, who was the son-in-law of Rabbi Hendel Landau, and his brother Rabbi Mendel Berger. Itche Meir Landau, after the death of his father, Rabbi Hendel Landau, continued to supply wood to the factory T.A.Z., while Binyamin Moshe Landau (my grandfather) was the main agent and supplier of the T.A.Z. factory. Both were Torah scholars. Reb Binyamin Moshe (Yame Moshe) was a great scholar, one of the greatest Chassidic students of “Avnei Nezer” from Czestochowa. He had a sharp mind; he was clever and witty and was engaged in the study of the Torah, day, and night. Even when he was a yeshiva student in Bedzin, he would teach the boys and the yeshiva students ???? )basic and common study methods of the Babylonian Talmud(, commentary of Rashi, Tosafot and, among other things, to the Gaon, the Rabbi of Kozieglowy. Even in Zawiercie, despite his engagement in his multiple businesses, he continued to teach Torah in the Stiebel in Czestochowa, every morning and evening.

Reb Itche Meir Landau was well-liked in Zawiercie. His sons were David Landau (who lived in Israel and died in Jerusalem) and Yechezkel Landau, one of the first who left Zawiercie and immigrated to the Land of Israel after the First World War. He died in Haifa.

The Jewish part of Zawierice – crooked, unpaved streets and alleys; houses – mainly wooden, characteristic. The roofs – covered with shingles or black [tar] paper – which looked like large hats, deeply pressed down on the heads of the pious houses, which were very careful [to uphold] the laws regarding the covering of the head. The few brick houses were built with red bricks, unplastered, thrown here and there and they looked as if they had confidently, proudly raised their heads to heaven and called to the lower, small houses: “Make way, paupers! Give us respect!”

In the non-Jewish part – factory houses (fabritshne heizer). The factory officials lived there – Jews and Christians, foremen and workers. The houses there – brick, surrounded by gardens. The houses of the textile factory were the most beautiful in the city. The neighborhood – a real garden.

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Thousands of workers would enter the factory and leave from it – according to their class. There was a heaviness in their walk. A weary drudgery on their faces. The workers in the coalmines made a particular impression with their black faces and hands. No matter how much they washed, a light blackness always remained because the blackness left an imprint in the pores of the skin. The coalmines were several kilometers from the city and the coalminers had to get up in the early morning, a great deal earlier than those who worked in the city. We actually saw workers with packs of food and jugs of coffee or tea in their hands in the early morning.

* *

The Jewish population [consisted] mainly [of] artisans, large and small merchants, a few manufacturers, a few melamdim [religious teachers] and clergy (it should be understood with the rabbi at the head).

The artisans [were] simple Jews who were busy with a needle or with a kaftan [with their trade or religious observance] from dawn to midnight. They lived in one room with half a dozen small children. Both the workshop and the kitchen and the eating room and the bedroom were there. Everything was located there: from a pominitsa [slop-pail] to a glass-paneled closet with brass candlesticks and a menorah in it. It was a great wonder that everything was situated in one room.

Such Jews went in their oxen-like pace. They possessed remarkable dignity. They knew their worth, alas. These were simple Jews who barely could read a chapter of the Khumish without Rashi [The Five Books of Moses without commentary] or recite a chapter of Psalms with an hors d'oeuvre of Maimonides.

The “cream of the crop” in Jewish Zawiercie were the merchants, the Hasidim and scholars, or the “very pious Jews.”

The Jewish officials in the textile factories occupied a particularly respected place. They were former followers of the Enlightenment, or Hasidim, who became a little or very assimilated.

They had contact with Jewish merchants, who had business with the factory. There were “good” people and they would accept the gifts that the merchants would send for Passover and for the Novi Rok [New Year]; they maintained that they were people who were meticulous in their religious observance.

In an alley there, in one of the wooden, Jewish houses,

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separated from the others, across from a row of wooden houses, with small gardens in front of the windows and with large snarling, angry dogs – Shlomo'le was born and grew up in a business-Hasidic and learned family.

Three Jewish families, in-laws, lived in the one-story house where Sholom'le was born. The Matrone family also lived there, the grandmother of Shlomo'le and the other children in the house, who lived with her youngest daughter.

The in-laws were basically different from one another. There was no distinction in only one thing about them: all of them were burdened with many children, may the evil eye spare them from harm.

Shlomo's father [was] a Jew, a learned man, who loved a page of Gemara [Talmudic commentaries] with a beautiful opinion from the commentaries. However, he simultaneously was absorbed with Tilim [Psalms]. He could not begin his day without a Psalm. From time to time he would travel to the old rebbe, may the memory of a righteous man be blessed, and sometimes he would look into a book, not always a very kosher one [a secular book]. He already was [a little enlightened] and was even one of the first to be a member of the Zionist organization.

He was a Jew with a mild, good smile on his face, with an open hand [he was generous]. He always had a good word for even one who was needy. He was a straight-forward Jew, unambitious in business, slow, a little pragmatic. He believed everyone, thought of everyone as his equal. He was a good father, a dear uncle, a friend and a magnet for all of the children. They were drawn to him like bees to honey. In short: [he showed] kindness and mercy.

Shlomo's mother had an impetuous nature, a shouter. She constantly became angry and shouted about every foolishness – even things that were worthless. However, in truth she embodied both good and bad in one. She was a collector of charity. In the worst weather, at every sitting at an oven [to warm oneself], she would be found going around collecting donations for a needy family. She mainly was involved with her household. She would forcefully shout at the servants and was very devoted to her children – she actually sacrificed herself, forgetting about herself. Only a Jewish mother is capable of this. She was as pious as 10 pious women. Her greatest ideal was to have a son become a rabbi.

Reb Leibl, the brother-in-law of Shlomo's father, was an entirely different type. He was a scholar, small with a black, little beard. He

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wore glasses that hid his angry, stinging look. He was extremely pious. He was slow, but in word and in his step. He was a manufacturer who knew that 50 workers worked for him, that is, a Jew whose work is done by others.

Reb Leibl was a Jew who thought a great deal of himself. He did not say hello to everyone. He was a relative of the rabbi's son who later became the rebbe. [He had] a hard nature, with a cold, severe smile on his lips. He disliked being disturbed. He actually could not look at children. His mere gaze would drive them “to the ends of the earth.”

His wife – a smart woman, a merchant (Reb Leibl also had a shop in addition to a factory). She had a sharp tongue and smart, piercing eyes. She rarely stayed at home. She would love to “gossip” and left the running of her household to two servants. It should be understood that things in the house were imperfect. She knew, it was said, that as long as her brother (Shlomo's father) and her sister-in-law lived in the same house, her children would lack for nothing. They also would not be lonely.

The second brother-in-law, Reb Chaim, was almost entirely a combination of his two in-laws. A tall Jew, thin, with soft blond hair – he always had a mild, weak smile on his genteel face. He was a scholar. Quiet, slow – one barely heard his words. He was a Jew of mediation – pious and trembling before God and people. He was passionately pious, very careful to protect himself from any trace of sin. He was a synthesis of law and mercy. His wife was a modest and pure woman, an energetic, pious, dark, charming woman who knew her worth and did what was written in the holy books. She had the touch of a Cossack. She was honored and praised. She was good because the holy books state that one should do good. She collected donations and spoke in an authoritative tone. She had a great deal of Hasidic self-confidence and nerve.

Chava Leah, Shlomo's grandmother, was a small, wide-boned woman, in a kupke [woman's cap], according to the style of the day - during the week and on Shabbosim [Sabbaths]. She would pray three times a day – like a real man… She would regret that there was no minyon [group prayer] nearby, so that she could pray in a group.

Grandmother Chava Leah would remember almost the entire Tsenerene [Yiddish translation of the Five Books of Moses with legends and commentary] by heart.

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She was well versed in Rabbeinu Behaye [a rabbi and scholar, Bahya ben Asher ibn Halawa], in Shelah haKaddosh [Yeshayahu ben Avraham Horowitz], in Kav Vayosher [The Just Measure – book on ethical life], etc. She lived with memories of her husband, Reb Henokh Hendl, who had been one of the well-known figures in Polish Jewry, who had died many years earlier. She remembered her husband with deep respect and felt close to God almighty (not a small thing – as an intercessor whom she had in heaven). The stories of the Tsenerene and her future in heaven were more a reality for her than reality itself…

She was a source of pleasure and joy for her grandchildren: going away presents, arrival presents, Chanukah money, Shalakh Manos [gifts exchanged on Purim] money, Shabbos candy and everyone spoke of the Mondays and Thursdays when they would receive a copper coin, a three kopeke coin, from her.

Every Jewish child should have such a grandmother…

She also was the first woman teacher and woman preacher in Hibbat Zion [Lovers of Zion] and with practical work for Eretz-Yisroel.

How she came to this is really a great surprise, yet in the Hasidic circles in Poland Eretz-Yisroel was something in the distant future. Apparently, her husband, Reb Hendl, had an effect on this. It is known that he wanted to settle in Eretz-Yisroel.

My grandmother gave us grandchildren various tasks to collect money for Eretz-Yisroel. For example: collecting the bones after every meal – also from the neighbors (perhaps this is the reason the gentile neighbor's dog always hated us and growled at us). Every week we collected a sack of bones and then sold them. We gave our grandmother the amount we made from the sale and she sent it to Eretz-Yisroel. We would knock out copper rivets and washers from old vats that our two uncles brought to our joint family courtyard. They received them from the textile factory half-free and then sold them as old iron.

We did not, God forbid, steal these things. We just took them away. The same with the entire refuse from the factory in the courtyard of our uncles. Our grandmother Chava Leah's grandchildren would “swipe” this and then sell it to a Jew. All of the money went for Eretz-Yisroel.

Alas this income did not last for long: the uncles noticed that we were stealing. They reminded us of the verse “Thou shalt not steal.”

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My grandfather, Reb Hendl, who died young and lived in neighboring Bedzin, barely knew Shlomole. However, his spirit, the admiration of his son and daughter and the reverence that all Jews in the entire region showed for him had an influence on the grandchildren and on their path of education. His name was something distinguished to them. We were called “Reb Hendl's grandchildren.” They said the name as if it were something from another world, something messianic that invoked Eretz-Yisroel and the House of King David.

Reb Hendl was a Jew of medium height with a beautiful chestnut beard. He was wide-boned, very lively and nimble. He had a bright expression, a golden hand, full of fervor and enthusiasm – he had a deep-feeling heart and, in addition, an illustrious brain. He was a father and supporter of the weak, a dear close friend, an example without intimidation for the dull and obtuse rich men, a consolation and help for the needy and suffering.

He did everything with joy and ecstasy. He was an honest merchant with many businesses. In addition he was a Jew, a scholar who dedicated every free minute to studying the Torah. He was a Hasid and did not think of his accounts when making donations. He only knew of one account – the account of the needy.

He recited the supplemental prayers in the rabbi's courtyard during the Days of Awe. He prayed with enthusiasm, with mystical devotion. His musaf [supplemental] praying was for him the Song of Songs of the purified soul that strives and yearns for the source of light and joy – to the God in heaven.

* *

Shlomo had an older brother and an older sister. His sister – as happened then in well-to-do Hasidic families – went to a Polish school. She would learn Yidishkeit [a Jewish way of living] by herself, from her essence – her parents thought. She learned Hebrew and to read the prayer book from a melamed [religious teacher], with a long beard and crossed eyes.

The children in the family house studied with the same melamdim [religious teachers] – Shlomo's older brother and older cousin studied with a “larger” melamed, Shlomo and his younger cousin with a “smaller” melamed.

Shlomo and his brother Nakhum were two worlds. The older brother

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was of middle height. He was energetic, bustling, a shouter with a restless nature. He could not sit in one place. He was not on good terms with the Gemara [Talmudic commentaries]; he did not dislike the Gemara, but it also was not a close friend. As was said, Nakhum had made an agreement with the Gemara, it would not bother him and he would not bother it… He was drawn to a practical life, to commerce.

Shlomo, again, was quiet, calm, always pensive, diligent, listened to his parent and teachers, was devoted to the Gemara with body and life. Both [brothers] had the characteristic of the family, a merciful, good heart.

Shlomo was the love of his parents. To tell the truth, he did not take advantage of his privileges; he resented the sharp criticism of his brother by his parents and he also resented the compliments and praise he received. But because of his honoring of his parents, he did not dare to protest. Shlomo's relationship to his brother was delicate and warmly fraternal.

Shlomo was compared to a still water that flows deep. He did not make noise, but his spirit dug deep into the past – at least to the six days of creation. The present was too poor, bleak, grey…

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A word that says nothing: a station that does not even have a buffet. In the rozklad jazdy [timetable], in the guidebook for the Polish trains, this name is lost among the mass of other names of small stations where the train stops, gives a whistle and moves further.

However, for those who are interested in Polish culture and economic development, Zawiercie says a great deal as an important location in the larger branch of Polish industry (textile industry). The largest metal works in Poland is located here. Zawiercie is a very interesting city for every intelligent tourist and is particularly instructive for a Jewish excursion taker. I can give advice to every Jewish journalist and, in general, to every Jewish intellectual, which reflects the situation of the Jewish population in Poland – that he should visit Zawiercie. Zawiercie is an entire idea, a symbol, a moral lesson.

Zawiercie has large weaving mills in addition to the metal works and factories. Its textile factories play a great role in Polish industry, like its iron works. The textile factories extend an entire verst [1.06 kilometers or .66 miles] distance in Zawiercie. In addition, Zawiercie was built 25 years ago thanks to the giant textile factories.

And a Jew built Zawiercie. He is named Gincberg. He is the greatest Jewish textile king after Poznanski, the greatest Jewish millionaire in Poland.

I only spent several hours in Zawiercie. I walked the length and width of the city accompanied by a local young man. I looked into everything and I will never forget the impression I received here.

I saw the side of the city that lies to the right of the train line. There is the Gan Eden [paradise].

The buildings of the factories extended over a verst. The work bubbled inside; it was quiet on the outside. Here 10,000 Polish workers were employed by the Jew Gincberg. Not one Jewish weaver.

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It is true that a master craftsman, a machinist was a Jew. Naturally, this was a coincidence.

We walked further and arrived unexpectedly in a kind of garden city. Small, two story houses, up to four residences in a house, designated for four families: two below and two above. Each house had a flower garden in the front. Each building was divided from another by an empty courtyard. About every four houses consisted of a neighborhood. The entire shtetl [town] was cut in its length and crossways by organized, wide, even and straight streets with trees that created tree-lined paths. There was a pump outside of every two houses. Children with sunburned faces, lightly, simply clothed, mostly barefoot, cheerfully ran around here, played in the courtyards and out in the street. Young and old women, as well as girls often went into and came out of the houses going to the pumps, engaged in household work, cleaning dishes, washing or hanging laundry to dry on ropes stretched through the courtyards.

Everything here is full of movement, but there is no hustle or bustle. The movements are calm, leisurely. Everything here breathes with a regular rhythm. Everything is done here quietly, orderly.

As a whole, this part of the shtetl looks like a villa, dipped in trees and flowers on all sides. People are rarely seen going through the streets. Work takes place only in the houses or around the pumps. The figures that move are exclusively women. There are few children. The majority [of the children] play. Here and there they help their parents.

This part of the city ends with two splendid empty boulevards on the right and left. In the middle of the boulevard on the right stands a large four-story building of modern, refined architecture. This is the kinder shul [children's school] for the residents of this quarter. A smaller building, also with a beautiful appearance, stands a little to the side of it. This is the bathhouse with tubs and showers and with other modern facilities – all according to the latest word in sanitary technique. In addition, there are the dom-ludowy [people's house], schoolhouses, a resource [building], sports rooms and so on, as well as a cooperative store for communal commerce. This is for them an exceptional school for higher social, national and political self-education.

The Jews live on the left side of Zawiercie. They are poor, without an economic foundation – ready at every minute to move somewhere else where the least hope of a groshn of income is present.

[Page 230]

It is apparent that Gincberg – when he built Zawiercie – thought little about his poor, Jewish relatives in the old shtetlekh [towns], who were packed and over-packed and [living] where there was no income present. He did not think of his uncles and aunts who were ready – with sticks in their hands, with bags on their backs. However, they thought a great deal about their rich nephew. Like an arrow shot from a bow, the rumor about the new community spread in the old, crowded Jewish communities.

Uninvited – they came by themselves…

Jews who needed a livelihood came here from various regions. Little by little a Jewish settlement was built on the left side of Zawiercie. The rich nephew thought little about the left side of Zawiercie – the Jews from the left side did not dare go into the quietness; they rubbed their backs and said: Jews have a God and their income will be taken care of…

Apparently, the rich nephew agreed with the opinion of his poor relatives. The proof is, he erected a synagogue for them. Let them ask God for income, not him. The synagogue was spacious, beautiful.

The rich nephew did not think about them; but they had opportunities to take care of their needs. Gincberg, the manufacturer, did not just consider feelings of justice in relation to his humane relationship with his workers. There also was a political view. Zawiercie, with its population of 20,000 unorganized, advanced industrial workers, had played a large role a few years earlier (during the 1905 Revolution – Sh. S[pivak]). Sooner or later, Zawiercie would again receive its power. It was worth the trouble not to aggravate, but to make the relationship to the future regime softer, to conceal the contrast between the workers' wages and coupons.

However – because of God, or because of the gentile, the customer – Jews left for Zawiercie. They tortured themselves because of the competition for the consumer.

Sorts of Jews, “island Jews,” officials at the factory, still live in Zawiercie.

[Page 231]

The uncalled-for Jews who also come here also belong to this part [of the city]; they were called to this part. They include the manufacturer Gincberg, just as other Jewish manufacturers. They were necessary as officials, as managers of his [Gincberg's] large holdings. Entrusting his possessions to people who were kneaded from the same dough as the workers – this was not completely safe for the capitalist. Therefore, he had, as in other industrial cities, employed [more middle class] Jews. These were a particular kind of Jew: their function was to serve as a mekhitshe [wall – usually separating men from women during religious services], as walls of separation, as a buffer element between the workers and the manufacturers. Simultaneously, another important function: they occupied a middle place between the poor uncles and aunts and between the rich nephew. He himself – the nephew – had left long ago.

The “island Jews” – these also were a kind of rich relative, to whom they would turn for help.

What the upper-most relatives from the richer houses threw to the people of the lowest dust and mites was not enough – it became a struggle about the gentile. One drew him [the gentile] to himself; another to himself.

In Zawiercie, the kind of “island Jew” lives on an island between the left and the right side of the city. This is not by accident; their entire psychology is to be “between.” Their interests are not connected to the right, not to the left. They live very comfortably in beautiful villas. Their ideas and strivings always involve the latent wish to become manufacturers themselves. If not manufacturers – let it just be a firm that can issue and take on promissory notes.

The left side of Zawiercie is a complete ruin, a hell that is frightening and dreadful because it is obvious nothing has happened. Everything is in its place: the large houses, the old bent-over shops, the beautiful, large synagogue. The shops are open as before. The old Jewish men and women sit around the small stalls as before. But the shtetl is empty. Quiet… No step is heard. Not a soul is seen. The men and women shopkeepers sit near their shops, booths, in the small stalls and arduously look at the end of the street, very far to the very end: perhaps someone from there, from the other side will come. However, no one comes.

The shopkeepers sit and doze, yawn, wait…

Only for a soul to show up unexpectedly – not from there, from the end of the street

[Page 232]

but from a neighboring house: a small, Jewish boy runs to a box and wants to buy cherries for a few groshn. They grab him – the old man on one side and the old woman on the other side; they press the cherries in his hand and tear the few groshn greedily from his other hand…

Thus, the intention endures: go and make a living from each other – Jews, earn your living from other Jews…

There are no young people in Zawiercie. Whoever had the strength ran away and saved themselves from hunger. One ran to Bedzin, to Sosnowiec. Others to Warsaw and still others – much further, to America. The sick, the old remained to protect the empty shops and houses.

(From the book Yidishe Neshomes [Jewish Souls])

[Page 233]

An old, half ruined, uninhabited castle stood for many hundreds of years outside the shtetl on the “sands.”

Children would whisper among themselves that demons came there at night, an angry wind whistled there through all of the holes – and fear grabbed [everyone].

But by day –

The sunshine spread on each grain of sand, on the many small stones and on each kheder-yingl [religious primary school boy] who came to slide from the very top of the hill on which the castle stood. The boys slid all the way down on worn-out bottoms, from far, through the small streaks of lime – go ahead and feel it, children.

* *

Thus it was, year in, year out – until one time Wolczok came, a calm, smooth-skinned young man with a small, trimmed blond beard, with a cane in his hand. He asked that wagons full of sand be brought to cover the deep pit that was at the “sands” around the castle.

Until then the “sands” was known as a small settlement. With the laying of a train line many years earlier they had begun to build small factories in the area, which had given the area importance. The area around the “sands” became something substantial on the map of Poland.

It was said about Wolczok that he was rich. He was born rich.

[Page 234]

He lived in eight rooms – and yet he was not an arrogant person. Often he came to the “sands” to visit his workers. Mainly, the doors here were closed in the middle of the day. However, he came and left traces of a dark, lacquered cane. It was surmised: “He was here.”

After Wolczok left after a visit, the residents said that Mr. Wolczok was a fine, affable person. This they decided among themselves, those such as Fradl's mother, who was a market vendor and sat at the market with her two small children, until God brought the night, or such as Khaytshe's father, who constantly sat in the house of prayer while his wife worked as a seamstress or Chana's father, Reb Shmul Dovid the ink-maker.

The virtue of the work was that it could be done by young children such as Fradl, Khayke, Chana or Yakub, the ropemaker's son. They were children. The work did not require special training for them – nothing more than that they must work fast, very, very fast.

They, the children, and the others at the factory thought differently. Wolczok often stood before them, disheveled… That is because he forgot himself sometimes when he ran in anger to a machine to tear out a piece of work and simply show it. So, he waved it at the embarrassed worker.

However, he immediately caught himself; in addition to building a small factory here, he had come here to build a name – Wolczok! He then grabbed his cane, pulled on his short overcoat and began to visit the homes on the “sands.”

* *

They, the workers at the machines, already knew: Here sits the machine – there he, Wolczok, stands, no doubt in front of their houses. He pushes his cane in the sand; here they must work fast to finish the work that he jotted down. Why is he standing there and talking? Does he not see the effect on her? Why the devil is he standing?

It occurred that many workers would speak at once and at the same moment they were at their machines… They stood shoulder to shoulder, but a common melody wove through the rollers. It appeared sometimes that they

[Page 235]

sang a hymn of praise to the pit that was covered and on which the factory was built. However, sometimes it happened that they shouted over the machines – to their mothers – that they should not believe what he, Wolczok, said. As if they had said: “He is a liar!”

Chana, Khayke, Yakov and more and more spoke and shouted this – – –

In the shtetl something began to sting, but what was it? – no one clearly knew. It was said that it was because the roller was going too fast and [they were working] too many hours a day. As a result of this, the children on the “sands” began to look pale…

They said at the house of prayer courtyard that it was a shame. They needed to survive. It was a shame that the Akhdes [Unity – name of workers organization] youth stood at the Torah reading desk and talked. Impure, sinners of Israel.

* *

Fradl, the daughter of the widow, with a head of blond disheveled hair, did not mix in. She grew like a wild rose in the field. She was satisfied that she had her betrothed, Elya. When Fradl went walking with Elya at night, they noticed no one along their way.

Late in the evening, Fradl and Elya would return home. Elya was like a tall, strong oak; Fradl like a willow branch.

At the end, Fradl began to appear paler but more beautiful. She became slender and bent. A little reticent like a bride.

After some time, she began to spit threads. Now a thread had become stuck and bloody ribbons began to appear. One morning, opposite the large brick wall, the 20-year old demon^[2] – whose glance had controlled every corner in her factory division – at the very beginning of a song, spit out her last breath.

Translator's Footnotes

1. I have consulted the text of this story as it originally appears in Moshe Dovid Kasier's book Tsvishn Vent (Between Worlds), with the title “When a City is Built.” This version appears to have been rewritten and condensed, making the narrative rather difficult to follow. Return
2. Because of the large omission of text from the original story, there is no explanation here as to why Fradl is referred to as a demon. Return

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