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Of the seventeen children that Grandma Feygl had given birth to, eight remained: six sons and two daughters.
When Sime Feygl remembered the other children who could not grow up, she was overwhelmed with pain. She did not complain or cry, because she assumed that it was fate that did not allow her children to grow up; but it hurt her very much. Once, the thought occurred to her that at least a few children would still be with her if they had all survived.
They were all gone now, scattered around the world, and she was left alone.
Every time another one of her children disappeared from the shtetl, it left a deep pain in her. Grandpa Yankel Bunim, however, felt that the children had to be let go. There was an apostasy of morals and beliefs in the shtetl, and a young person had to go out into the wide world. Sime Feygl did not want to contradict her husband.
The children did not move because they wanted to leave their parents, but the bitter poverty and the danger to their freedom and their lives chased them to foreign lands.
The eldest son, Aharon Velvel, whom Grandpa had sent to relatives in Bialystok to learn a trade, was the subject of rumors in the shtetl that he would incite the weavers there to rebellion. He rarely came to Krynki or was heard from, but suddenly, without anyone expecting him, Aharon Velvel appeared in Krynki.
The fact that he was hanging around jobless and being secretive increased the whispers that he was mixed up in a “shtashke” (uprising) of the weavers and had become involved with the “Buntovshtshikes” (the rebels) in Bialystok.
A few weeks after Aharon Velvel's arrival in Krynki, Khayim Leyzer, Yonah the Stolyer's[1], also arrived from Grodno. And as far as he was concerned, it was known for certain that he harbored dangerous thoughts concerning the rich and the government.
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The fact that both boys were now seen together gave rise to a strong suspicion that they were up to something that was not entirely unproblematic.
It didn't take long at all, and gossip began in the shtetl that the two boys were stirring up the young tanners. Too many young men had been spotted running down to the field and then “disappearing”.
Aharon Velvel began to influence his two younger brothers, Moyshe Berl and Khayim Shloyme, who were already working as tanners, with propaganda.
Aharon Velvel used to walk down Sokolker (Sokółka) Street with them on Friday evenings. He would point out to them their poverty and the terrible situation in which the Krinker tanners found themselves.
Indeed, at that time their situation was terrible. What was being done to them was nothing but brutal and savage exploitation.
A “meistares”[2] system had been introduced into the tanneries at that time. These were a kind of “kontraktors” (contract labor companies), which can only be compared to the contract labor systems in the “Svet-shap” (sweatshop) era. In America, however, it was handled in a more moderate way.
The “meistares” offered labor to the factory owners. The “contractors” lent and paid for the labor force. The work itself was done in the tanneries owned by the factory owners. However, the balebos (boss) of the workers was the “master” (meister).
Tanners could earn at most up to two rubles a week. However, wages were not paid every week, but with delays of three, sometimes even six months.
In the meantime, the “meistares” threw down (to the workers) a few guilders (one guilder was worth 15 kopecks). And they did so only when a worker tearfully urged them. It was then the following exceptions that moved the “master”:
When someone needed money for a healer, the wife was expecting childbirth, a bris (brit milah) or a wedding was coming up.
Working hours began at 5 a.m. and ended only when the “master” sent (the workers) home. Usually the workday lasted from 5 a.m. to 9 or 10 p.m.
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On Thursday one worked all night[3] and on Friday until noon. On Shabbat, immediately after the Havdalah, one had to go back to work. It is clear that such a situation offered favorable conditions to the agitators.
Aharon Velvel‘s younger brothers, impulsive, sentimental and emotional boys, were deeply and strongly influenced by the agitation and began to entrust their brother's speeches to other boys in the factory.
At home, Aharon Velvel also drew his father into conversations about the situation of the tanners. He pointed out the situation of the craftsmen and the injustice done to them by pious Jews who were only concerned about accumulating ”mitsves”. My Grandpa liked to discuss these things with him, and Aharon Velvel got him books, pamphlets, appeals (leaflets) and also the popular propaganda book by Eyb Kahan[4], “Rafael Neritsekh”[5].
Yankel Bunim liked the statements of Aharon Vevel and also what Kahan wanted to express through his book “Rafael Neritsekh”. However, he could not accept the fact that those who were supposedly fighting for justice had also started a fight against God and religion.
He used to say, “You cannot overthrow God from His throne. If you actually fight to put an end to injustice, you cannot do so without faith in God. For God and Judaism represent the highest form of ethics, and without ethics you cannot establish a just government; for only faith in God and Judaism embody sincerity and justice.”
My Grandpa did not mind that his boys were busy uniting the craftsmen, but he gave them to understand clearly that they should not turn away from God's ways.
In addition to the two agitators, my uncle Aharon Velvel and Khayim Leyzer, Yonah the Stolyer's, there were already some young people in Krynki who considered themselves socialists and therefore behaved conspiratorially.
This group of young people, which included the Bialystoker Yankel Tsales, Leyzer Harkovitsher and his sister Bashke the “Gele” (the Blond), also helped to politically enlighten the tanners.
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Later, they were joined by the following (agitators) who devoted themselves to the work with great devotion: Hershl Pinke the Shames's son, the daughter of Gabeytshik, Yosl Ayzik Halpern, Avrohem Partse and Itshe Grodner.
These names may have no meaning to strangers, especially now, in these hard, brutal, and cynical times. At that time, however, they were deeply idealistic young boys and girls from upper-class families who were willing to offer themselves as sacrifices to secure (or so they believed, at least) “bread, happiness, and freedom” for poor people.
They were the first in Krynki to provide political enlightenment to the depressed tanners, teaching them to fight for an easier life and against servitude.
All those involved in the “awareness and education” work divided the shtetl into districts, and each of them took on the task of integrating the young people of “their” district into the “unity movement”. The agitators sought out the “yatn” (chaps), took them on a walk down to Sokolker or Shishlevitser Street and gave them “enlightenment” lessons there.
When the “enlighteners” knew that there were a hundred “Farbritshne” (factory workers) who could be relied upon, they brought them together. This was the beginning of the “skhodkes”.
These gatherings took place during the day on Shabbat, in one of the forests of the shtetl, in the “Virnyen's” (“Virion‘s”), “Yente's” or “Rozboniker” (Robber’s) forest. Beforehand, each individual had been told to come alone, and quietly, to the meeting place.
In order not to arouse suspicion among the townspeople, the young people used to walk in twos through different streets and alleys. In the forest, the tanners sat down in a semicircle. One of the “enlighteners” or a delegated agitator would then give illustrative speeches, read to the audience from books or pamphlets, and inform them about what was happening just beyond Krynki: There, in the big wide world, the workers and poor people united, formed a “Bund” (union) and fought for a better life.
After these speeches, everyone held hands, took an oath and sang fight songs taught to them by the agitators as a symbol of the common “Bund” and unity.
Translator's footnotes:
Impressive and imposing scenes took place in the forest, where the factory workers joined together in “akhdes”[1]; they were scenes where faith and naivete (of the young people) were manifested in emotion and pathos.
The spectacular impression when taking the sacred oath remained in the memory and blood of the tanners. The scene was celebrated with such solemnity that everyone was imbued with a deep sacred feeling.
Those who were present in the forest when the oath was first taken usually recounted it later with pathos and great longing.
Even now, my uncle, Khayim Shloyme (Heyman Kohn/Cohen) still comes alive with elation when he recounts the “oath scenes.” His descriptions enable me to reproduce (that scene) here.
There were only a few “enlightened” people in Krynki at that time. The Jews were deeply rooted in the customs and traditions of Jewish life, and what the agitators told them and demanded of them meant a revolt and a drastic change in their life and behavior.
The tanners, who started to be politicized in confidential conversations on walks and later in secret meetings (“skhodkes”) in the forest, were still not reliable “elements”.
The agitators pursued two goals:
Strengthening the sense of community (“akhdes”) as well as preventing the “meistares” (temporary employment agencies) from receiving information about the “preparations.“ The younger ones, who were already enlightened, knew a little of the propaganda jargon at that time and were already singing the melodies and words of the “brothers and sisters” songs. For the great masses, however, these were all still strange things.
When the first big secret meeting took place in the “Razboyniker”
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forest, which was about 5 verst (3,30 miles) away from the shtetl, the leaders, with the support of the “safe elements”, made a real spectacle. While the tanners were sitting in a semicircle, suddenly a voice was heard coming from nearby, but the “baldover” (causer) could not be seen.
The voice told about the hard life and the situation in which the factory owners and “meistares” kept the tanners like slaves.
The fact that the voice came from a hidden corner and one could not see the face of the “ baldarshn” (speaker) created an atmosphere of mysticism and curiosity.
The impression came up as if - lehavdl![2] - the scene with Moses, to whom God had revealed himself through his voice in the desert could be heard reinacted. Only the burning thorn bush was still missing.
When the voice ceased, everyone was asked to stand and form a circle. The voice rose again:
“Brothers,” the voice cried out, “is all that I have spoken before you true?”
“Yes,” was the reply.
“Do you want to create akhdes?” the voice asked again.
“We do!” replied the crowd.
“Will you all stand up for one and one for all?” “We will,” they shouted.
“Will you keep all you have heard secret from the factory owners and meistares?”
“We will!”
“If so, you must swear!”
Soon, one of the group showed up with a religious book and phylacteries. He raised the sacred objects aloft, and the crowd recited the oath to the invisible voice to preserve “akhdes” and to keep everything that was spoken secret.
After this ceremony, everyone took each other by the hand, and the “enlightened” sang:
“Brothers and sisters in work and need,
to all who are spread and dispersed,
come here, come together, the flag is prepared,
it flickers with fury, it' s red with blood,
We swear the oath of life and death! “[3]
Those who were with us in the forest at that time have forever memorized these scenes. When the “akhdes” movement began to spread, the agitators (previously sent to the shtetl) went back to Bialystok. The (political) enlightenment
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of the Tanners was now left to the “enlightened” of the Shtetl.
The main leaders at that time were Hershl Pinke the Shames's, Itshke Grodner and my uncle Moyshe Berl. In addition, my second uncle, Khayim Shloyme, was also active.
During the year that the training and preparations dragged on, the factory owners had not the slightest idea of what was actually going on among the tanners. They only sensed that there was some unrest, but they did not know anything more precise.The oath that the workers had taken on the book and the phylacteries was guarded like a sanctuary.
The workers kept their secret so strictly that even when the strike broke out, the balebatim still thought that this was nothing more than some kind of prank by the “khevre”[4], the gang.
The strike broke out by chance. A foreman of the factory owner Hershl Grosman slapped a worker, and this was the impulse that made the anger of workers in all factories boil over. The first to leave their workplaces were the tanners from Grosman's factory. The second evening, on a Tuesday, a meeting of all the tanners was held, where it was decided that no one should go to work the next day.
At first, the factory owners and the “meistares” thought it was some kind of jest. They cracked their jokes and laughed at the “statshnikes”, the rebels. “Ey,” they said, “they'll get hungry all right, and then they'll come back to work!” But when this wish did not come true, my Grandpa Khayim Osher‘s nephew[5], Ayzik Krushenaner, who was one of the very respected balebatim at that time, said:
“I see that we probably won't get anywhere with them like this; it seems that this was a put-up affair by this gang!”
The balebatim were alarmed and stirred up the shtetl. They sent shamosim[6] to the workers' homes to scout out why they had not shown up for work. As previously agreed, the answer was:
“(We demand):
Abolish the Meistares, (the system of temporary work agencies), pay wages every week, directly through the factory owners, and introduce a working time of 12 hours- from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.!”
The demand that wages be paid directly by the factory owners was a really serious one.
(Apart from the fact that the “meistares” paid only a few rubles of wages to the poor when it was worth their while, they often
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cheated them out of their money, declared themselves bankrupt, or even fled with the hard-earned earnings of the wage earners, and there was no one left to take care of the hard-working).
The factory owners were not prepared for such insubordination. In their meeting they decided to summon the “rebels” to the Rabbi.
The Krinker Rabbi Borekh Lavski, zts”l[7] was not very popular among the workers and the poor people.
Among the rich and noble he was very recognized and influential and they held him in high esteem. He himself was also a wealthy man, and his son, Vigder, was one of the really big factory owners.
The Rabbi after him, R' Zalmen Sender[8], in contrast, was constantly at odds with the powerful and influential, but popular with the workers. Zalmen Sender, zts”l, enjoyed a very great reputation in the Jewish world. He always stood up for the craftsmen and chastised the factory owners.
He even refused to pray in the Bes-Hamedresh where the rich prayed. He went instead to pray in the “Kavkazer” Bes-haMedresh, which for a time was considered the prayer house of the workers. Later, when the powerful in society took the position of gaboes[9], he sought out for prayer the minyonim (prayer quorums), where the craftsmen prayed.
A narrative about Zalmen Sender, zts”l, reports that he was asked how he felt about what is written there, “Rabbi gives honor to the rich”[10]. His answer was:
“Well, that Rabbi knew who a rich man is, but I do not know!”
Rabbi R' Borekh Stavski[11] sent for Hershl Pinkes the Shames's, who was one of the leaders of the strike at that time. When Hershl arrived, the Rabbi was already sitting there, surrounded by all the factory owners. Immediately, (the Rabbi) began to sternly rebuke Hershl for allowing Jewish workers to take part in a revolt.
“I am already very surprised at you,” said R' Borekh to Hershl Pinkes[12], “you are teachable, so I ask you, is this a proper way for a Jew to resolve a conflict in this way? When Jews complain about each other, they usually come to the Rabbi for a ruling according to Jewish law (the Torah), and the Rabbi will decide who is right!”
In response, Hershl Pinkes told him, “Rabbi, you wonder at me, and I wonder at you.
A judgement according to Jewish law can only be made when one has the power and the other has the right. But here we are dealing with a very different story. Because you can clearly see for yourself that we have the power.
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And I tell you, Rabbi, that we also have the right on our side, that's just the way it is! So I ask you, what is the need for a Jewish judgement?”
“It may indeed be that you are right,” R' Borekh replied, “and presumably you have the power. But, we are now in the middle of the zman[13], so wait until the end of the zman, then you will be heard with your demands, so an agreement will be reached!”
Immediately Hershl replied: “Rabbi, how can it be that you speak like this? It is explicitly written: “Poyel khoyzer beyoyse hayom - The factory worker may withdraw from an agreement on the same day - and even in the middle of the hour!”
Hershl Pinke the Shames's asked the Rabbi why he actually kept demanding that the community leadership give him raises. He reminded him that the Rabbi before him was satisfied with very little. He also accused him of being on the side of the factory owners because he himself was a rich man and, moreover, his son Vigder was a factory owner.
This audacity astonished R' Borekh and the balebatim. The Rabbi immediately ordered Hershl to leave his house. Seeing that the workers remained obstinate and rebellious, the factory owners, with the Rabbi's consent, turned to the governor of Grodno. And after a week, a large group of gendarmes arrived in Krynki, led by their colonel, the polkovnik.
This was the first time that Krynki had such a large number of police “as guests”. The gendarmes immediately began to crack down with terror and cruelty. The leaders of the strike were captured and murderously beaten.
This, however, stirred up the skilled workers even more, and the struggle, which divided the shtetl into two hostile crowds, became not only more bitter but also bloodier.
The leaders began to hide. Their homes were attacked and in dozens of Jewish houses people could not sleep through the nights; they stayed awake and in agitation because they were afraid that the gendarmes would burst into their houses. Hershl Pinke the Shames's and still others were arrested and sent to prison in Grodno.
At that time, craftsmen in Krinker houses quietly sang this song:
“Footsteps of tyrants could be heard
at 12 o'clock in the night,
at that time a star dropped down at our place,
such a one that sparkles in the night.Our tears are not yet dried
for those sent away to Siberia,
when suddenly we hear the news,
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that a new brother has already been detained.How sad it is and how oppressive,
to live in such a land.”[14]
The attacks on the leaders of the “Statshke” did not even stop at Grandpa. A few times heavy footsteps and loud banging on the door kept him awake for nights.
The gendarmes did not have to spend much time to search Grandpa's home. They had inspected his poor, cramped room “before you could count to three”. When they had convinced themselves that whoever they were looking for was neither in nor under the bed, nor in the only closet, they were already gone. But only for a while, and the very next day they were “guests” at Grandpa‘s again.
Nokhem Anshel was eager to be lenient with Grandpa. He summoned him and advised him to talk his sons out of continuing to get involved with the “Buntovshtshikes” (rebels).
Grandpa assured him, however, that he could not do anything. His sons already knew what they were doing, no sermon on his part would help, and he couldn't beat them up either.
Translator's footnotes:
The factory owners intervened with force and the help of the gendarmes to break the strike. They brought tanners from surrounding towns (to the factories), and there was a drama in Krynki.
After all, the outrage was great: how had it become possible for Jews to act against Jews, for murders and hostility against Jewish families to occur?
The craftsmen joined together. On Shabbat, they entered the large Bes-haMedresh, where the factory owners prayed, and stopped the reading of the Torah. Then, on the second Shabbat, the prayer house was already guarded by gendarmes. But the craftsmen with their wives and children simply broke in. This was a sacrilege!
The “Yonim” (Russian soldiers) beat the Jews and arrested a large number of them. Thereupon, a storm of protest broke out in the shtetl. The anger and the cries of lamentation exerted such pressure that all the detainees were released.
But this did not lessen the terror, nor did it stop the nightly house searches. Young people whom the gendarmes found at home were arrested.
A mood of tension and attrition spread over the shtetl. Brawls broke out between the strikebreakers and the “statshnikes”, the strikers.
When the factory owners realized that they were getting nowhere with the Jews from neighboring towns, they sent messengers to Smorgon, to Romanovka, to the district around Volyn (Volhynia) and to Berdychiv to persuade tanners to come to Krynki.
When the “Statshnikes” learned about it, they decided to fight to the knife not to let the strangers reach Krynki.
In order to prevent the lured Jews from arriving in the shtetl, it was necessary for members of the movement to stop them in Bialystok.[1]
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For the errand, my uncle, Moyshe Berl, was chosen. He had to notify his older brother, Aharon Velvel, who led the Bialystoker “Boyevoy otryad”[2] (the movement's protective group), that the foreign workers should be stopped when they arrived at the station.
Moyshe Berl, the 15-year-old lad, with a piece of bread in his pocket, set out on foot for Bialystok, which was about 7 Russian miles or 50 verst (53,1 km) from Krynki.
For such a distance one usually had to walk for a few days, but Moyshe Berl did not walk! His passion, youth and conviction drove him and chased him. He did not pause. He hurried and strained, day and night.
On the way, peasants let him jump on their cart. After two days and nights he arrived in Bialystok.
Aharon Velvel, together with his “khevre”, his gang, waited for the train, and those who could not be “convinced” by them were violently forced to turn around and go home.
Thus, the Smorgonians, Romanovks and Berditshvers did not reach Kynki at all.
When the factory owners realized that they could hardly do anything, they let the skilled workers know that they should come to work and would get everything they had asked for.
The first tanners' strike in Krynki was won!
The workers had won the strike. However, my Grandpa, Yankel Bunim, had lost. His sons learned that this strike was only a kind of exercise for the great transformation (of society); when the workers together would destroy the so-called “capitalism” and the “samoderzhav”, the autocracy.
The workers were satisfied that they would now receive their wages every week, that the system of “meystares” had been abolished and that they no longer had to work longer than “from 7 to 7”. But my Grandfather's sons were far from satisfied.
They began to agitate against the rich and noble as well as against the autocracy. And so it was not long before the police were once again waking up Grandpa's household in the middle of the night
His youngest son, Khayim Shloyme, had to flee to Bialystok. There he was hidden by his brother, Aharon Velvel.
However, the latter also brought him together with the Bundists there.
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However, in a quarter where some of the revolutionary youth had gathered, a police raid was carried out and all were detained.
On the second day, when the detainees were led to the police prefect for interrogation from the Bialystok prison, which was located on Vashlikover Street (in Russian, the “Nikolayevski Ulitsa”), Aharon Velvel, with a group, raided the guard and freed everyone.
Aharon Velvel hid Khayim Shloyme in weaving factories, where he also slept. The “Shpulyarkes” (winders) worked especially at night to provide protection for the revolutionaries who had to hide from the police.
But Khayim Shloyme could not stay in the factories for long. My Grandmother Sime Feygl went to her rich relatives, the Barishes, to raise money to send Khayim Shloyme out of Russia. He then went first to London and later to America.
Thanks to him, the whole family came to America, he brought them all over with his money.
He also caught up with his beloved, Yakhe Feygl, rest in peace. She was a great and very clever personality. He met her in the movement and one can talk about them as in romance novels; they were devoted to each other with love and dedication, as it was the case between my Grandpa Yankel Bunim and Grandma Sime Feygl.
From my uncle, Khayim Shloyme, we inherited the name “Kohn” (Cohen). A compatriot named Kohn, to whom Khayim Shloyme had gone in New York, advised him to change his name “Krinker” to “Kohn” (Cohen).
Yankel Bunim's eldest son, Aharon Velvel, served as a kind of confident between the Krinker youth who arrived in Bialystok and the movement in Bialystok.
Aharon Velvel, tall, with broad shoulders and determined face, was an extraordinary, daring and fearless hero who was afraid of nothing.
When he was the leader of the “Boyevoy otryad”, both the factory owners and the police trembled.
Aharon Velvel was sent to Siberia for four years for an assassination he had committed with others on a weaver manufacturer.
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The factory owner Nokhem Kolner, used to fight the workers with cruelty and doggedness not only in his factory but in general.
During the great weavers' strike from 1895 to 1896 (1) he played a bitter role. He was the leader and main spokesman for the weaver factory owners, preventing them from compromising with the workers. Warnings did not deter him. On the contrary, he only became more dogged and stubborn. In the heat of the strike, he denounced some bokherim (Jewish boys) to the police. This sealed his fate.
One evening on Shabbat, when Nokhem Kolner was coming from praying, several from the “khevre” next to his apartment on “Sarazer” Street, in the “Zaviker's yard”, ambushed him and shot him. Together with Aharon Velvel, eleven (other) leaders of the “Boyevoy otryal” were arrested.
Five were convicted, and Aharon Velvel's sentence was “four years of exile to a remote village in the Irkutsk administrative district.”
On the deportation he was accompanied by his girlfriend. In the Moscow “Butyrka” prison they got married. At her request, after the sentence was pronounced, she left for Siberia together with the prisoner convoy. In exile she had two children, a boy and a girl.
I still remember how the two children, Sasha and Helena, came to Krynki from Siberia with their mother.
Aharon Velvel's sweetheart, Mirtshe, an active and devoted activist in the movement, went with him to Siberia (at first) not so much out of love for him, but rather because it was in keeping with the revolutionary spirit of the times.
Mirtshe was a romantic young woman. Besides Aharon Velvel, another young bokher had fallen in love with her - Nyomke! She liked this fellow even more, so she sought his closeness.
However, Aharon Velvel's condemnation to exile resulted in Mirtshe becoming estranged from Nyomke and forming a permanent union with Aharon Velvel.
Yankel Bunim's worries about his sons would not cease. Moyshe Berl caused him particular grief.
The latter was very much involved in the preparations for the second tanners' strike in Krynki. He was already in the “Bund” at that time and participated in stirring up the tanners politically.
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The second strike was not so sudden and unexpected for the factory owners. They were no longer as confused and helpless as in the first strike and fought the “statshnikes” with great doggedness and cruelty.
The first activity of the police was to arrest all the (strike) leaders. Moyshe Berl was tortured for five days in the Krinker “reshotke”, the prison. The beatings injured his lungs, and when he was released, he spat blood.
My Grandpa urged him to escape from Krynki. Moyshe Berl then dressed up in women's clothes and my mama, rest in peace, led him, hooked in his arm, far out of town.
At that time Aharon Velvel was already in prison. Moyshe Berl first stayed with relatives in Bialystok for a few weeks and then traveled to London.
In London, however, Moyshe Berl became very ill. The great man and humanist, Peter Kropotkin[3], then took him into his home and cared for him until Khayim Shloyme, his brother, brought him to America.
Kropotkin had met Moyshe Berl in the library that the anarchists ran in London's “Whitechapel,” on Commercial Road.
The local residents, Kropotkin, Teplov, (Nikolay) Tshaykovski and Emma Goldman when she came to London, used to stay in the library.
This group of respected revolutionaries supported all Russian political refugees. Since Moyshe Berl was also ill as a result of the police torture, Kropotkin took him in.
He took care of him and literally put him “back on his feet”.
Translator's footnotes:
It took me a long time to get used to my father after he returned from the soldiers. I did not want to leave my Grandpa Khayim Osher and my Grandma Rive at any price, because after all they were my parents to me!
It took me a long time to accept that that man with the “Komets”[1] beard (which looked like a band-aid stuck under his lip), whom I was to call “Papa”, was actually my Dad.
It took months to persuade and plead with me to move into the house where my parents lived.
The apartment that Mother had rented from Alter Milb before Papa came home was counted among the better ones.
The new furniture with the unusual cabinet that had been refined into a “shafe”, a bookcase, and the large lamp with the lampshade gave the apartment an almost stately appearance.
The apartment was located in the lower part of “Kavkaz”. The former inhabitants of the street had long ago been replaced by others, so the gang “Akhim” (“the brothers”), through which the street had received its bad reputation, had long since ceased to exist. Only older Jews still remembered the times when the “Akhim” ruled and frightened the whole area around Krynki.
However, nevertheless “Kavkaz” remained just “Kavkaz”.
And the inhabitants of the shtetl always looked at the “Kavkazers” with some suspicion and contempt.
Kavkaz did not consist of a single street, but of a chain of several streets that formed the shape of a “Khes”[2]. Only upper-class people lived along these streets. One of the streets, however, rather a kind of dead end, was considered the “real Kavkaz”.
In the upper part of “Kavkaz” lived the rich and “balebatish” families. In this part also lived Grandpa Yankel Bunim's
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nephew (“sister‘s child”), Berl Fishke‘s, who was the mayor of the shtetl. However, downstream, right next to a muddy passageway, there was the “Zhabe (Frog) Alley”.
Here, in about 15 to 20 houses, lived people of non-noble descent who were considered and treated like the “untouchables” in Hinduism. These people who were considered “unworthy” and “lepers” were called “Kapitses”[3].
The “Kapitses” were horse traders and horse thieves, but among them were also pickpockets. In a word, almost the whole Krinker “underworld” had its nest in those houses and the muddy alley in the lower part of Kavkaz.
The children of the Kapitses were loud, daring and naughty brats and were known as thugs. Both in summer and winter they ran around barefoot, dirty and unwashed, and many were “decorated” with scabbed heads.
They were the ones who broke the window panes, tore off the fruits, ran after the carts and were the terror of all the boys. At weddings they stood behind the windows, and when the bride and groom were led into the synagogue courtyard to the wedding canopy, they ran in front and set off fireworks.
At weddings they practiced pranks, pricked the guests with needles and knotted the women's dresses together.
They were at the forefront of all scandals.
Our apartment at Alter Milb was located right on the border that separated the upper Kavkaz from the muddy alley where the “Kapitses” lived.
So we were in close proximity to each other, and for such a hot-blooded, wild and temperamental boy like me, it was impossible to separate myself from the “Zhabe Alley” brats and to avoid them.
Even if I had wanted to, I couldn't have done it, because the rascals would have broken my bones. They hated it when you acted haughty and aloof towards them. Any arrogance would have cost me my life.
It was not easy for me to join the boys because I was very afraid of them at first. They usually tore the hat off my head and tried everything possible to get me into a fight.
[Page 167]
When I came home from school, I didn't walk but I ran the last part of the way to the house. They (the brats) were already sitting on wooden blocks or on entrance stairs and were lying in wait to chase me as soon as they caught sight of me. So I arrived half-dead in the house and stood at the window to look after them.
They would then grimace at me, bend down and shout, “Boo, boo!”
This could not go on for long, so I decided to make peace with them.
Once, when they were chasing me, I just stopped.
They were frozen and amazed for a moment and looked at each other. The strongest of the boys walked right up to me and growled:
“Well!”
“What, well?”, I asked. Right then his words blurted out, right in my face, “Who do you think you are? There are no privileged people here, everyone is equal. You live on Kavkaz, don't you? Then you must be a Kavkazer too!”
“What do you want from me?”, I wanted to know.
“A toy,” he shouted. This was an allusion that I should make some kind of “contribution” so that they would keep peace with me.
When I brought him “the toy”, I was allowed to sit on the wooden blocks with him, and later the boys included me in their “command”.
That I made common cause with the gang, my mother learned only when she gave birth to my brother Mair.
Instead of bringing home boys from my school to recite the “Krishme”[4] for the woman in childbed, I brought the Kavkaz boy's gang. I wanted them to have all the sweets, nuts and cake that were usually distributed to the children after reciting the Krishme.
When mom saw the dirty, barefoot and disheveled urchins, it certainly put a strain on her childbed.
The brats of the “Zhabe Alley” did not completely waste their time on wild (pranks) and destructions. Like all other children, they liked to hear and tell stories and dreamed of faraway lands and strange, different people.
[Page 168]
On summer nights, the “Zhabe Alley” boys would sit down on wooden blocks or house doorways and listen curiously to the stories that a boy who was good at storytelling would relay.
Most of the tales were about demons and ghosts, devilish creatures and monsters, about hell and the sinners who roasted in it, about the corpses that came to the “cold” synagogue every night, exactly at midnight. They usually put on a prayer shawl, called for the reading of the Torah and prayed until the last star disappeared.
There were boys who testified to, themselves, hearing the voices of the corpses coming out of the “cold” synagogue. In every occurrence and apparition the rascals interpreted different meanings and clues.
A glowing red sunset was interpreted as a sign of coming wars.
The boys sang songs with words and melodies that were full of longing and mysticism. Not all the boys who gathered on the blocks were descended from the “Kapitses.” Many joined the “command” (from the outside), as I did.
The leaders were boys from the other side of Kavkaz street, just not those from “Zhabe Alley”.
The top leader was Yanke Katyut (why he got the surname I don't know).
Yanke's father was a teacher in the Jewish elementary school, a great poor man. His only asset was a goat. Both he, his wife and Yanke's siblings were calm and composed people. Yanke, however, was a hothead, a fiery boy.
He always went barefoot. The mud that had grown into his flesh had stained his feet. He was taller than all the other boys and had a body like bronze. He could bend and do tricks like an acrobat or those “magicians,” as they were called in the little town.
The boys looked at Yanke with wide eyes and adored him. He liked to brag that he could bend and twist so well because he rubbed butter on his body every day. The boys believed everything he said.
[Page 169]
Yanke Katyut was a skillful and clever boy. He had ingenious ideas. In his wars with the boys from other streets he provided a lot of ingenuity and thoughtful strategies. He was daring, and no one could compete with him.
Yanke liked stories, he liked to listen or tell them himself, but only about demons, devils and corpses.
He asserted that if you put your ear to the threshold of the house where a corpse was lying, you could hear the dead man fighting with the angel of death to prevent the latter from carrying him away.
He organized the “command” in a truly military way; there were “soldiers, officers, generals, brigades, nations and armies”.
Since he liked to listen to me telling stories and also appreciated my daring, he included me in his “staff” and made me his adjutant.
In this “staff” there were also Hershl “Boyte” (prey) and Zeydke “Kirbeses” (pumpkin). Hershl Boyte was not a spoiled boy, on the contrary, he was a good and obedient one. His father Yisroeltshke the Klezmer, was a cheerful bon vivant. He never stayed in one place and went to America about fifteen times.
Zeydke “Kirbises” was already a bold and strong boy. Zeydke liked to fight and be the leader.
He was smart, with original ideas, and liked to play tricks on others or make fun of other boys.
In winter, black “fur” hats were worn that looked like they were made of the fur of Karakul sheep, but they were made of cloth. Zeydke and I were like twins. To have fun with the other boys, we smeared our hats with soot and looked for a victim.
So, beforehand, we determined a boy whom we wanted to mock. We would go up to him, engage him in conversation, and bet him that we would guess what he had eaten today. We played such pranks only on Shabbat, when all the children were off school.
The meals on Shabbat were the same for everyone: the “cholent” stews, either with a piece of meat, steamed potatoes, with sweet vegetables or pearl barley, carrots, turnips, or even with plums and potatoes.
[Page 170]
The “guessing” went like this with us: I or Zeydke held the boy by the shoulders, and the other of us brushed his soot-prepared cap over his face, so that the boy's face was smeared.
“You ate beet stew!” It was also conceivable that it had even been carrot stew. In any case, we kept stroking the face with our hats until we “guessed the right meal.”
When I and Zeydke were “done” with the boy, we would take him through our whole “command” and our gang would have fun making jokes and mocking the boy.
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Translator's footnotes:
Many of the stories I told the “Kavkazer” brats on summer evenings when we sat on the logs or front steps, I had heard from my Aunt Sore.
Although she was a few years older than me, she was terrified of me.
I used to push her and hit her. As she grew older, I couldn't stand to see her hanging out with boys and girls of the same age.
Just as I saw her going out for a walk or spending time with her friends, I would snap and make a violent and angry scene at her. If she just caught sight of me from afar, she would run away to hide.
I terrorized and chased Sore in a terrible way. But the more she ran away from me to hide, the more my desire to chase, catch and beat her increased.
I took special pleasure in seeing how she was frightened. Once I invaded Motl Tsholne's house like a savage because I didn't like the fact that she was hanging out with Motl Tsholne's son. I drove Sore out of the house with a stick.
The stories Sore told me were interesting and extraordinary. She had heard many of them from my Grandpa. But she could also make up her own beautiful stories. When my parents went out for a visit or a walk, Sore usually came to watch over me and my younger brother Mair.
Sore loved to tell about her heroic brothers, especially the oldest, Aharon Velvel, who had been exiled to Siberia, and the other two who had escaped to America.
Her stories always ended with, “They (the brothers) are suffering and suffered because they stood up for the poor.”
Sore aroused in me admiration for her brothers, since they had been expelled because of their love for the poor. In my imagination,
[Page 172]
I saw them as tall, strong, and fearless heroes who laid down their lives for the poor.
From her I also learned that far away there was a tsar who was a bad man. He kept soldiers and guards to preserve the interests of the rich.
Sore taught me to sing songs, some of which she had heard adults sing. At that time, the young people performed some plays by Goldfaden[1], whose songs were very common and were often sung.
One song had the flavor of revolt and hatred for the tsar's children, it went like this:
“Ding, dong, ding, dong,
whose children are driving there,
they are the tsar's, the tsar's,
on the stove they are sitting,
under the stove they are sweating,
they are rubbing matches,
they are chasing ducks away,
without any speech they stay.”[2]
At the end of the last words it was common to laugh at the top of one's lungs, “ha, ha, without any speech they stay”.
Sore was passionate about teasing me. She liked to laugh at other children and even adults. I don't know from whom she had inherited this inclination, because her father, Yankel Bunim, peace be upon him, did not like to mock other people. His children were good, hearty, honest and noble people.
But this bad habit of “pulling their leg”, this “oplakhn-ontsien”, as they themselves called it, was something almost every one of them had.
They especially enjoyed making fun of someone and embarrassing him or her. When they had chosen a victim, they would ask him a foolish question.
They used to wink at each other, while a smile was already playing in their eyes and around their mouths, and sparkle with joy when the helpless victim could not answer the illogical question and stood there dumbfounded and perplexed.
Sore could make my life hell when she imitated how my Grandma spoke. She would stand on a bench to demonstrate how tall Rive was. Then she would grimace and mimic Rive's speech.
I would usually get angry and cry watching her mimic Rive's way of walking and talking.
Sore especially liked to imitate how Rive pronounced Grandpa Khayim Osher's name. Until the end of her days, Grandma, in her Yiddish-Polish dialect, would not say “Khayim Osher” but “Ka-em Oosher.”
[Page 173]
In general, it hurt me when the difference in size between Khayim Osher and Rive was ridiculed, and additionally the fact that everyone in Yankel Bunim's family had two names.
From Dad's side, Sore teased me with Grandma Rive's dialect. And from Mom's side, my uncle, Dodye the baker, teased me that Grandpa Yankel Bunim, Grandma Sime Feygl and all their children had two names - except for one daughter, Henye.
When Uncle Dodye, the baker, wanted to provoke me, he used to quietly and calmly enumerate the names of Grandpa Yankel Bunim and his household.
To do this, he would clench his left hand into a fist and lift finger after finger from his left hand with his right hand, enumerating:
“Yankel Bunim, Sime Feygl, Aharon Velvel, Abe Yudl, Leyzer Hersh, Moyshe Berl, Khayim Shloyme, Mair Yonah, Sore Rivke.”
Then when it was Henye's turn, who had only one name, he would pause for a moment.
Soon, however, he gave himself a jolt:
“Henye-Penye”[3], he exclaimed hastily, laughing himself half to death at his idea.
When my brother Mair (Meier) was born, people began to pay less attention to me. That disturbed me enormously! I was just looking for ideas that would give cause for (my family) to be worried about me.
To provoke my parents and family, I spent even more time with the “Kavkazer” boys.
I was the very first to run to a scuffle, break windows, tear off fruit or do other wild foolishness.
On the border that separated Kavkaz from the “Zhabe Alley”, where the “Kapitses” lived, there was a well from which the inhabitants of the lower area of Kavkaz drew water.
The narrow path where the “Kapitses” lived was a little to the side of the alley. On the other side of the path lived about 15 to 20 non-Jewish families who had their houses and large gardens there.
Just opposite the well lived a Polish Christian, Maril, with two daughters, older, scrawny and ugly girls.
These “shiksas” ran a laundry and came to the well quite a few times to draw water.
[Page 174]
They knew me well, and I often helped them draw water and carry the buckets when they used a stick instead of a water carrier pole.
For this purpose, the stick was pulled through the wire eyelets of the buckets. One had to carry the front end of the stick, and the other the back end, and so we carried the water.
I often helped the gentiles to carry the water into the house, and in return they invited me to eat with them. At some point I was already part of the family. Old Maril liked me very much, and whenever I had the opportunity, I visited the Christians. Maril let me pick all the fruits that grew in his garden.
Maril was sick, only skin and bones and croaked dully. He was suffering from “Tshakhotke”, tuberculosis, and was in a lot of pain. All day long he sat there and warmed himself in the sun.
He looked typically Polish with his “proud” nose and short-shaven hair sticking out like hedgehog spikes. His face was yellowish from the disease, his eyes were deep in their sockets, and his cheekbones stood out sharp and pointed.
Once, when I entered the Christian house, I got a great fright.
Maril was lying stretched out on a board, dressed in black clothes, with a white shirt and a small black tie.
His hands were folded together and held a cross. Next to the cross was a shimmering sheet of paper with writing framed in black.
Around the corpse sat about twenty to thirty people.
Large candles were burning on a small table, and a gentile peasant boy, a giant, was playing a harmonica beside it.
Out of sheer fright, I wanted to run away. However, one of Maril's daughters grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to her. Her bony hands were like iron. She put me between her legs so that I could not move.
After a priest had “opgebentsht”, as the Christian praying is called among us, the corpse was put into a box and the crowd went to the church.
The “Shiksa”, the Christian girl, still held me
[Page 175]
tightly by her hand, and thus led me into the church with her.
Inside the church, terrible fear gripped me. Everything I saw inside made me feel frightened. The many pictures and portraits on the walls confused me. The “shiksa” took off my cap.
When suddenly music sounded, I was completely startled. In the huge space of the church an invisible voice rose!
The crowd moved further inward. Suddenly, everyone fell to their knees. The “shiksa” let go of me.
I put on my cap and ran to the exit.
In the anteroom, however, I bumped into a Christian woman who was obviously late. From my panic and because I had my hat on, the woman concluded that I must be a Jewish child. She chased me and then gave me a blow between the shoulders with her fist.
I was just able to run outside, then I fell, covered in blood.
The vicious woman had injured one of my lungs!
A whole series of visits to the doctors began. They gave instructions to give me lots of milk to drink and lots of sweets to eat.
This pleased me.
I was paid attention to again.
I wanted to stay sick for a very long time. After no more blood showed, I helped myself to “fabricate” it. I scratched my gums with my fingernail until they bled and spat into a handkerchief.
I took it to my mother and convinced her that I was still sick.
[Page 176]
Translator's footnotes:
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