[Page 491]

Characters

As in all the cities and towns in Volhynia, so it was for us in Vishnevets: all types of people lived among us–each one with his peculiar social character. Like council members, scholars, philanthropists, those with inherited wealth–summer in cloth kapotas, winter in skunk overcoats, and most of the middle–income people with heavy furs and little pelts.

And there was another stratum in cotton coats that begged and did hard labor, ending each day with poverty and want; they had weighty dreams at night about ways to make a living, and in the morning confronted the day of grey life between heaven and earth. They were unfortunate figures with no certainty or hope for betterment. And among them floated, like stars in the clouds, a spiritual piety. There are not many stars (if any others were needed), and one of them was Chane Malke.

Chane Malke–old as a grandmother but with a smile like a child's. In the suffocating atmosphere of gentile jackets and pitch from the wagons at the Monday market, she brought a waft of a juicy blossom that injected everyone with belief in a fine, humane spirit.

[If] Chane Malke, walking by, waved her hand over your forehead, she warmed your heart as with balsam; when from a distance she gave warm, friendly winks of thanks to old acquaintances; and her friends were people of suffering and pain, who looked to her for motherly care and tenderhearted support.

There are some people in the world who, when they appear, make a person calm; their name is goodness. From Chane Malke's forehead, which jutted from her head covered with a “Turkish” kerchief, you could sense her task wherever she went– this was a symbol of goodness. Her sharp eye penetrated every corner of need. With courtesy and deep empathy, she delivered help with silk gloves, and especially anonymous donations.

The elderly grandmother, with light steps like a deer, where is she off to? Someone lacks something for the Sabbath. She moves energetically and very quietly–quick help; a she connects a sick person to the Visiting the Sick Society, she takes part in a funeral for true lovingkindness, and not in the same breath prepares a bride–she puts on her silk kerchief and does what needs to be done, arranges the feast so that, heaven forbid, the bride is not insulted and the family is not ashamed.

[Page 494]

Requesting, claiming, demanding–so that people will participate in the great commandment [to give]. You must give, one with an open hand, another with just the fingertips, because who would dare refuse and obstruct the effort when Chane Malke, the missionary of prompt help, is standing before him? You give even with a frown, so as not to be punished by Chane Malke's dissatisfied though sympathetic look.

There are other women who make the Sabbath for the poor, among them some religious functionaries [wives] and others who do it for show. They do their assignment with a big basket in hand, and with great impetus and pomp on Sabbath eve, and call out the names of the recipients to make a bustle, add salt and pepper to their particular bit (a loaf of challah and a piece of fish), with gossip about the poor family, with no sympathy, so that often their delivery is accompanied by insult to the needy, who are beyond any criticism in the eyes of the giver.

No so Chane Malke, because her deeds are accompanied with deep human feeling and a deep–hearted, free–willing, kindly offer to help the downtrodden.

Hidden deep under her shawl, she carries the gift with great honor and respect to the sufferers.

She heard from a certain source about a case, about a downfallen family in the town, with a girl whose time had come, and only thanks to Chane Malke's initiative did they accomplish the commandment of marrying off the bride in a dazzling and festive manner.

In those days, she collected hundreds of rubles–tsarist rubles, and that thanks to her gentle approach, which opened the hearts of the great families. She stood an entire family “back on its feet,” because in time the young couple luckily worked their way up to a good living and reached the level of the great families.

A few donors were jealous of Chane Malke, since they were just givers, because giving is only one third of the commandment, but Chane Malke delivered the cure for the plague to each, taking each mission to its end. For her the reward was fuller. She demanded, she took, and she gave.

Anyone who did not see Chane Malke in action and her mission in a silk scarf did not see the personal procession of old charm and wonderful tradition that demanded recognition of praise and respect.

[Page 495]

Her hands were full of commandments, and she had no doubt in her belief that she was running an account with the Master of the Universe in accumulating commandments fulfilled for the world to come.

She herself was of middle height, but from her forehead shone a royal glow with the special charm of a Mirele Efros^[1], not in a scene from the play but literally in life, with heart and soul.

With her warm, wonderful spirit and her good heart for good deeds, a clear countenance with traces of a tender refinement, as they say: one of the brilliant stars in the clouds of the monotonous grey life of Vishnevets was Chane Malke.

Translation editor's note

1. Mirele Efros is an 1898 Yiddish play by Jacob Gordin. Return

[Page 496]

If you are a Vishnevetser, you know just what “the family” means. It's enough to add your grandfather's name to the term “family,” and you have a chain with three generations: the grandfather at the cantor's desk, the father at his prayer stand by the eastern wall, and the boy at his side.

The father dealt in notions or piece goods, and when possible, he was a grain dealer, or even bought forests to chop down, or was a mediator in the sale of an estate; he had his prince, for whom he was the “court banker.” He had privileges and could receive concessions, thanks to the prince, which were accessible only to gentiles: selling monopoly items or taking a farm lease.

So, a Jew with a beard and side curls, and perhaps also on the Sabbath with a silk coat with a sash, or conversely already a “progressive,” with a short coat. Very busy with businesses and community matters. Achiever of things for the powers that be, where the doors are opened wide, able to ask a favor for himself first of all, but also for the community.

In all the historical dramas that were played out in the town, from power to power and through various transitions, there was an uncrowned advocate in Jewish troubles, who cracked the whip, and whom Jews loved. Synagogue wardens were servers at his celebrations. R' Ploni^[1] this, R' Ploni that–literally a legend. He said as much about himself. A prestigious family, a great scholar, a fervent Hasid; when he was a child–at three years old he sat on the Trisker Rabbi's knee, may he rest in peace. A paid–for son–in–law with those who lived in the big house. And moreover, with his own energies, he worked his way to wealth and wisdom and happiness.

When the town rabbi went to visit him at home, it was a procession: the beadle two steps behind, and he himself, the rabbi, the magistrate in his colored silk coat, white stockings, and black lacquered shoes; it was the picture of a patriarch with a handsome, representative long beard in front, like a big, colorful banner–and it all said, proper behavior!

The rabbi went to the “president,” the proprietor of the town, who lived in the big masonry house with the wide gates. And the proprietor was no Baron Ginzburg or Anshel Rothschild; nor did he have a rabbinical diploma.

[Page 497]

But he did have his merits: he was honest, a fundamentally honest man and a zealous worker in community matters. Straightforward, precise, knowledgeable in business and in the community. A regular in the synagogue. Every day of his life, he opened or closed the holy ark. On Yom Kippur at the closing service, he stood fast, pale, but with strong character; he stood as a representative of the community, not only for the prince, but ostensibly also for God. Progressively inclined but in the end a fearer of heaven.

To welcome the Sabbath, a householder harnessed everyone into the synagogue, like a general with his family brigade in the service of the Creator. The whole week with regular folks, and Sabbath with an extra soul for God. After lighting the candles, the woman stood by the window and looked out with Sabbath joy at how the householder went to pray with their five sons, a commandment, a row, a lovely panorama.

In looking at that scene, a widow–and thus one punished by God–was envious, and spoke from her bitter heart:

“The Master of the Universe has gifted him with more than a quorum for the grace after meals, and after their 120 years they will join him in the true world; he will carry four in his own hands, and the fifth will go right to the Garden of Eden. Five holy ones. Have you heard! A great merit in heaven. Gotinyu, I am not worth that, [but] may my daughters merit that and be blessed with such a fate.”

And as the doors of the synagogue open–not as usual for each person but thrown wide open–one knows that the parade is coming.

Then came years of “progress,” new winds were blowing, the five grenadiers drilled new thoughts into the brain, going to the synagogue not so much to God as for people, dear father! And among them were two in uniform, with shiny visors, who were studying worldly things. And indeed, the Russian language–“opens a window to Europe.” Who are Rashi, Rambam, Orach Chayim, holy books. Smitten with Odessa, the new culture. One in particular had seen Bialik with his own eyes, had heard Cantor Sirota with his own ears. It gives one vertigo, neither here nor there, a separated soul–one God abandoned and no new one prepared. Not only the Song of Songs but also Pushkin, Lermontov, Nadson, Turgenev, and Tolstoy. Respect for one's father, the honored “householder,” a Jewish merchant, arisen from important Jews with heart and soul, who has donated Torah scrolls to the synagogues. And I wish all my evil dreams on the heads of those who devised that children should betray the parents.

[Page 498]

For the Kedusha, he dances with everyone who is praying, on one foot; for the Amidah, he stands with his eyes open, using the opportunity while his father stands with his face to the east to make a fan, to think about secular words, but ends together with all those who are praying. That's how they pay the tax, a favor to one's father. No matter that it's Ploni's son, and Ploni is the one who, from deep in his heart and with open hands, procures hundreds of rubles for charity. Later, after ushering out the Sabbath, he will call on “the little key”–Chayim–Hersh–to lend him money on interest so that in the morning when the hardworking Jews–who live solely from the monthly fair–come from the synagogue or from Bathhouse Street, he can press them for charity. And if the fair is flat and it's hard to get returns for charity, he doesn't worry, no offense, the “proprietor” will console you, no misfortune, maybe next time the fair will be a success, Antshel Rothschild of Vishnevets adds another 25 and is prepared to wait for an expansion and give to both charitable causes at the same time. There's a greater God in heaven, and as it says in Ethics of the Fathers, “The world is built on three things, and one of those is charitable deeds.”

And when the time came for Zionism to spread its wings, the third ring of the chain arrived–from the grandson, the third generation. A new storm arrived that filled the horizon with striving for a new echo of beliefs and content, and life acquired taste and flavor. Everything and everyone in the movement. Sects rose up out of that lethargic sleep, from grey small–town life, and went off in search of things desired.

The chain in Vishnevets was broken.

How could it happen? Gevald!

But the Pioneer spirit gave energy to the overturn, with tearing, with huge power, young temperament and strong will on the way to a new life, with new content and new important concepts.

Translation editor's note

1. 1. “Ploni” in Hebrew is a placeholder for a name, roughly equivalent to “so–and–so.” Return

[Page 499]

Such a tribe was among us in Vishnevets, a tribe of merciful people, grandsons of R' Levi Yitschak Berdichev. We called them the “grandchildren.” There were three of them: R' Motye, R' Yisrael, and R' Moshe. They grew like limbs of one tree, belonging to the same origin, treasures from R' Levi Yitschak, may his memory be for a blessing. But each one was a different type according to his individual qualities, and all together they were the grenadiers in R' Itsi's synagogue with the family name Derbaremdiker, prayer leaders for the Most High in the name of the community of Israel. And they were:

R' Motye: His standing place in the synagogue was close to the door in the summer, near the vestibule; in winter, he sat behind the oven, and separately carried on his dialog with the Master of the Universe in a suitable style from the bottom of his heart, with bowing and acquittal. Besides that, in his Shema Yisrael and Shema Koleynu he shouted out heartrendingly in a high voice and was literally outside himself.

R' Yisrael: The second in the line, he stood in the middle of the synagogue, near the cantor's desk, praying in a quiet, calm voice but with a deep inner ecstasy, using all the methods of a solid attorney with good spirit to attain everything good for the community and all of Israel. His pose: his right hand by his ear and his half–closed eyes, his left hand stretched out toward heaven. He demanded, he was certain that he would reach it and his hand would come back full.

R' Moshe: The third, a Jew of tall stature, a representative, stood by the symbol on the eastern wall, near the cantor's desk and the holy ark. A learned man, he prayed with a warm heart, striving for the highest level of intent exactly according to the interpretation of the words: his “Please God, save us” was accompanied by arguments, with certainty and sometimes with both his arms stretched out to the Master of the Universe, storming, demanding that complete redemption. Among other prayers, when he recited “Come let us sing” in welcoming the Sabbath, and the Kedusha in high drama, they must have split open the heavens, and his request must have been accepted at the throne of glory. There was no doubt that R' Moshe's proper demands would be successful; one must also take into consideration the protection of R' Levi Yitschak of Berdichev. Yes, he was surely in his service.

[Page 500]

As we see, each of the grandchildren did something in his own way, and all together they stood watch over the faithful representatives of the community with their intensive, solemn petitions.

We had a special sympathy for R' Moshe. He was popular with us because he was able to achieve the commandment of returning to Zion. Listen to how he did it.

This was right after the Balfour Declaration, when our town had become full of the spirit of the Land of Israel. It was then, too, that R' Moshe's son, Shlome Zalman, still a young boy, was caught up by the fresh, young Zionist movement. R' Moshe could under no circumstances agree to allow Shlome Zalman to go to the Land of Israel. How could he tolerate it when three times a day he promised to wait for the “sound of the great shofar of our freedom,” how could he allow rebellion against the promise of the Master of the Universe and, just like than, join the ranks of the modern Pioneers. How? No, it couldn't happen. R' Levi Yitschak's grandchild was patient and would wait for the proper visa and the predestined time, with God's help.

However, Shlome Zalman drilled nonstop on the idea of immigrating to the Land of Israel. He wrangled, discussed, trying to convince himself; as far as R' Moshe could clearly see, it wasn't some dybbuk, God forbid, it was simply a vital question for Shlome, maybe a wink from heaven and his opposition was wrong and could lead to rebellion against his father. He then inculcated his son three times a day with the “O may our eyes witness Your return to Zion,” not just to say it, but while standing tall with awe for the Holy One with his face to the east and ending with “in the days of old,” and possibly remind himself of the return to Zion of the redeemed from Babylon in Ezra and Nehemiah's time, before the Second Temple.

R' Moshe surrendered with the stipulation that Shlome Zalman would vow that he would at all times, in all conditions and in all circumstances, strongly observe prayer and the laying of tefillin.

Shlome Zalman accepted the stipulation, and with his immigration became the pioneer of the Derbarimdikers–and also one of the first Vishnevetsers–to immigrate. And he brought about the immigration, in time, of Moshe Derbarimdiker's large family, which moved directly to Jerusalem.

Over time, R' Motye's and R' Yisrael's daughters immigrated, and from those branches of the Vishnevets grandchildren, a new tribe of Derbarimdikers grew in Israel–in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Rehovot, and Ramat Gan.

A multibranched and fruitful tribe–congratulations!

[Page 501]

Each city and town in old Russia had its wealthy people, its proprietors, and a lot of poor people. Our lovely town Vishnevets was like all the other towns. But among our wealthy men was someone who was famous and beloved by everyone in Vishnevets for his big–heartedness and for giving charity with an open hand. His name was Hersh Bisker.

Hersh Bisker was born in Ostrog; his father, Avraham Bisker, was also known for his good deeds. Hersh Bisker married into Vishnevets by means of Malke, Arye Grinbarg's daughter. Hersh was tall and handsome, with a beautiful face. His good deeds were in harmony with his physiognomy, externally and internally. The man's face reminded you of Moshe Our Teacher, and he had the heart of Abraham Our Father.

His businesses were farms, forests, and mills. His largest farm was in the village of Butin. At various times, he also had farms in Dzvinyacha, Krivchik, Lozy, Maryanovka, and the Vidomka. He lived near the Kremenets hill, on the right side. Hersh and Malke Bisker had two sons, Shlome and Avrom'ke, and six daughters–Rachel, Shprintse, Beyle, Gitel, Blume, and Leye. Blume Toporof, her son Ruven, and her daughter Ester were members of our Society. Avrom'ke lives in Brazil.

Hersh Bisker always had the poor and sick in mind. He provided a doctor and medicines for the ill, and he himself visited the sick. He sent the poor wood from the village and gave them coupons for flour at his mill. Before Passover, he used to ship a transport of Passover foods to the synagogue courtyard, where they were distributed among the poor.

The manager of his mill once told him that he was giving out too many coupons for flour. He got angry; it was not his concern, he said. When people come with a coupon, give them flour. His wife, Malke, who was also good–hearted, told him once, “Hersh, you're supposed to give charity within limits. Don't forget that we have eight children.”

[Page 502]

He called her outdoors and said to her, “Do you see those chimneys? Except for the poorhouse chimney, without charity those people would be buried under their chimneys.”

On Sabbath, when he left the study hall, he always had a guest with him, and if there were other guests, he sent them to Nisel Shenker at his expense.

Hersh Bisker was a democrat in the full sense of the word. When he helped a poor girl make a wedding, he also sent his daughters to the wedding and had them fill their purses with money, with the promise that they would pay for all the dances and also dance with everyone. And sometimes he went himself to make merry with the in–laws. Hersh was a good dancer.

He married off his own children like royalty. It was not enough to hire Vishnevets musicians, but he brought in Kremenets musicians, with the famous Aharon Shlome, and both groups played. But his greatest pleasure was the dinner for the poor, which he celebrated for the poor people in town. The feast was prepared with an expansive hand. He brought the musicians, danced with the poor people, and distributed alms.

Hersh Bisker also gave to poor gentiles, so he was accepted by the authorities. When someone had a problem, they ran to Hersh Bisker, and he would go and see what the person needed–and very often he could help.

Once he ran across some bad luck for Idel from Mishkovtsy: one of his girls had fallen in love with a gentile boy, and the gentile boy had taken her to the priest in the church to convert her. So, where to go? To Hersh Bisker. Hersh Bisker put on his coat, took his walking stick, went to the police commissioner, and asked him to see to it that the girl was released from the church; the girl was released and saved from conversion, but the police commissioner was sent to jail for that, so Hersh Bisker provided for his family.

Exiled and Lives in Kunev for a Year

Because he lived in the village of Butin, where a Jew was forbidden to live without a special permit, he was exiled to 50 viorsts from the border and settled in Kunev for one year.

[Page 503]

Due to the police commissioner's respect for him, they intervened for him, and the vice–governor annulled the exile. He came back to Vishnevets and resumed his businesses, but under the assumed name of Jaske Termen, a very respectable gentile from the Old City.

Hersh Bisker lived out a materially and spiritually rich life. He was beloved by the entire town. When he died on Monday, January 9, 1905, the whole town mourned him. All the shops were closed for his funeral, and the entire town came to accompany him to his eternal rest.

[Page 504]

On Friday, March 12, 1926, a lifelong local resident and social activist, Mr. Avraham–Yehuda Katz, moved to the Land of Israel. Mr. Katz is one of the best and finest personalities that our town could ever produce, one of our most prominent and gifted people, always successful in all spheres, as there was no institution, management, club, or organization that did not benefit from his deft, skillful participation or collaboration–one of the few who continually stood at the watch for all town interests, without exception.

In 1917, when Jewish society was only beginning to organize, A. Y. Katz sprang to life. He became the tone–setter for every deliberation and at every meeting.

He directed committees. He loved that scene; he was ever the organizer of any presentation and himself stepped out as an actor. He founded schools, libraries, evening courses. He sought work, he created, he pursued development.

The class struggle sharpened, and party squabbles flared up. He was measured and understood how to calm the noise. He brought everyone to an understanding, and everyone remained obedient to him.

There was a civil war in the land. Sedition ruled. The town was drawn close to extermination by several competing partisan armies. Forced “contributions” were paid, and supplies were demanded and provided. There was a scarcity of small banknotes, which in some areas led to horrific pogroms–everything was quickly resolved in this exemplary way:

Katz, along with some others, founded a commission, a self–defense unit, to set out to satisfy all the bandits, to make them understand what behavior was expected, and created a kind of reputation, so that all the headquarters marveled at his work and gradually came to respect the committee.

[Page 505]

A. Y. Katz was a collaborator with the Jewish community, a founder of libraries, chairman of the Zionist Organization, colleague of the Jewish National Fund and the Foundation Fund and a constant supporter; as well as founder and member of the local Land of Israel office, founder and chairman of the Tarbut School, founder and vice–president of the local merchants' union, councilman of local Christian society, member of the Kremenets parliamentary district, the local sanitation commission, and all the local benevolent institutions. He was a respected, experienced merchant, an intelligent man, full of general knowledge, who knew four or five languages. He was also a craftsman who excelled in several trades, such as painting, carpentry, glazing, and many others.

He was also beloved by the whole Christian population and esteemed by the administrative authority.

A few days before his departure, he received a farewell letter from the mayor of Kremenets, which could be considered a kind of testament that depicts in glowing hues and thanks Mr. Katz for his faithful, honest, loyal participation in the parliamentary district, for the great utility with which he always worked for the district's development at every time and in every regard.

On March 11 of this year, a farewell evening took place for Mr. Katz in the club for officials and with many Christian friends.

Well–respected guests attended: the entire intelligentsia, various officials, the teaching staff of the government schools, the director of the Polish school in Vishnevets, the local police commandant, aristocrats, all the officials and the board of the local Christian community, which includes the town and 27 villages, and all their other good friends.

He was presented with beautiful, valuable items–presents as mementos: a heavy silver tobacco box with monograms of the society, beautiful albums with addresses, and many photographs with signatures. Speeches were given with toasts, praising his talents, analyzing his magnificent character, and providing an overview of his long years of community activity for the good of everyone, without exception.

During the leave–taking from the evening–which was late at night–everyone kissed him, warmly pressed his hands, and accompanied him home.

A similar procedure took place the whole week before his departure. From early until late in the evening every day, long lines of Vishnevets residents, young and old, men and women, came to bid him farewell.

[Page 506]

On Wednesday, March 10 of this year, the local Zionist youth organized a grandiose banquet in honor of Mr. Katz at the Hotel Brilliant.

The toasts from friends and well–wishers, toasts to health, long speeches of praise and entertainments, declarations, songs and jokes, and Mr. Katz's and his family's responses took up many hours until late at night, and who knew how long the friendly undertaking would have gone on if not for the sudden alarm that one of Yisrael Fayer's houses was burning in a dense part of town.

Although the fire was soon contained, it had already disrupted the evening, and the rattled audience gradually dissipated, leaving the farewells for the last day.

On Friday, March 12, from early morning on, there was heavy movement all along Pochayev Street.

The street was seemingly flooded with people coming to say good–bye and accompany Mr. Katz from the town, although only for one kilometer, and disregarding the significant and hard–blowing snow falling the whole time.

In large, tightly packed groups, they stood in the house and in the street, talking animatedly, repeating all his good qualities and the utility he had always offered in the course of his long service.

Also, many Christian friends were there, and on each face, one could recognize the difficulty of parting from a dear friend.

Characteristic among many scenes was the following:

A young, local, not wealthy peasant who made ropes and sold them to Mr. Katz in his shop stood by Mr. Katz in his house since dawn, very involved, and from time to time put his arms around him, kissed him, and cried hard.

He went with the long lines of those who accompanied Katz to the outskirts of Vishnevets, and then when the youth started heartily singing nationalist songs, he hung his head, and with a serious manner and hardly daring to approach him again, went to him and kissed him.

Mr. Katz remarked on this and pulled away from the crowd, turned to the peasant and asked, “Why are you crying so, Omelko?”

“Because it is very hard for me,” he answered, breaking out in a loud wail and unable to talk any further.

[Page 507]

It seems that Vishnevets had a power of attraction. My father, Avraham Dobtse's, a Jew from deep in Russia, was stationed in Vishnevets as a Russian soldier from 1914 to 1917 and wove himself into its life; he loved the effervescent Zionist youth and took part in all their activities. And he eventually fell in love with a Vishnevets girl–an orphan, my future mother–married her, and became a Vishnevetser forever.

The Vishnevets Jews did all they could so that the solitary bride and groom would not feel lonely. They were accompanied to the wedding canopy by Moshe and Reyzel Flok and Yankel and Etil Ayzenberg.

On the Sabbath, R' Shune Valkes and R' Pesach Gold (Vatnik) came to take the groom to the synagogue and gave him a permanent place in R' Itshe's Synagogue.

My father could never forget it. Vishnevets became an example for him and a command to do good works. He felt a sacred debt to the loving town and made a vow to do something for it in his own small way.

Years sped by, he pursued a livelihood, and he was as a loss for a way to fulfill his vow.

Once on a Sabbath, as he talked with friends, artisans like himself, he decided to create an institution for the sick, a health institution where poor people could be cared for.

Those who took part in the initial deliberations were Zalman Shnayder, Yisrael Chaye Sheyndel's, Mendele Shnayder, Yosef Kopel's, Yenkel Shayklis, Kopel Blekher, my father, Yisrael Nelkis and Kripitser (?).

The meeting was headed by R' Moshe Shoyel's, a very learned Jew.

The committee turned first to the working youth, asking that they use their “Lubitelene Troupe” to put on a play whose proceeds would go to the goal of the project. The youth responded positively.

All those respectable members then went house to house to sell tickets, and no one refused.

[Page 508]

The fundraising was a great success. That gave courage to further efforts, and there was intensive theater activity. The actors, as I recall them, were Elki Tsipe's, Feyge Tsipe's and her husband, Avraham Senik's, Eliezer Shkoler, Manis Fodem, his sister Shprintse Valker, and Moshe Nudler.

They also made it their duty to collect funds monthly as a kind of tax to support the sick. Kind Vishnevets Jews contributed half– and whole zlotys each month, and 11 families even promised as much as five zlotys a month and made good on their promise.

I remember them. We talked about them a lot among ourselves: Aharuli Shag, Rekhil Todreses, Shakhar Sofer, Shimon Lifshits, Dvosye Binimin's, Hikhel Hamut, Maltsye Kleynman, Duvid Gnip, Motye Shpigelman, the Biskers, and the Marders. I remember them, and I mention them because, in addition to their monthly donation, they gave even more money when it was needed.

In addition, they hired Hershel, Moshe Shuel's son–in–law, to collect the money month after month.

They developed a fund for the sick, and it grew. Any shareholder or confirmed council member could make use of medical services and prescriptions on the “Visiting the Sick” account.

It was an establishment, and real expression of immediate help. It made me proud of my town.

Happy with this victory, my father decided to transform it into a hospital and did not rest until he was successful.

There was a place in town, a crooked, hunchbacked building, a “no–man's–land,” that had been abandoned since all its former residents had left and moved to their own homes. The council prevailed on the rabbi and got permission from the community to turn that empty ruin into a usable hospital.

They tore the building down. The place was empty, just go and build. But where to get the money? They turned to Vishnevets Relief in America. They sent money to us, and we began to build.

Delegates from American Vishnevets Relief were with us for the groundbreaking celebration, and it seemed to me that one of Rekhil Todreses' children cut the ribbon. The joy grew even greater with the raising of the walls. After that, they hammered on the roof and one hoped, brick by brick, nail by nail, that the project would be completed.

Unfortunately, the dream was not realized. With the arrival of the Soviets, they turned the building into a cinema.

[Page 509]

The Vishnevets Artisans Union dissolved and, with it, the hope for a successful Jewish initiative in a gentile country.

What happened afterward in Vishnevets, we all know. But when I recall the history of the institution, my father looms large before me like a fervent, hardworking Jew, and alongside him, my mother, his wife, as his ideal partner in life, who saw to the comforts of home and family conversations in order to make it possible for him to do something for his fellow artisans and for the poor, always poor Jews.

May we always bless them.

[Page 510]

As work on this book began, we received the news that Fishman had died. We provide here some appreciations of his personality–excerpts from the press. He was a great son of Vishnevets.

(Excerpt from The Yiddish Newspaper, Buenos Aires, October 2, 1961)–the Editors)

Mikhel Fishman–builder of the cooperative and the People's House, and president of “Floresta”^[1] and the “State of Israel”–and we write both names in quotation marks because they are more than a cooperative, more than a house for the people, and more than a school: they are the expression of Jewish creativity, the result of determination, and the fruit of diligence. They are the striving for greater things, with a concern for tomorrow.

The school was built with love for our children and the Jewish land. The names express a longing, the same longing that led the directors of the People's House and the school to organize the excursion to Israel.

Mikhel Fishman visits Israel

[Page 511]

Thus, we saw it as necessary to interview President Mikhel Fishman, who stands at the head of the large delegation that will spend a month in the country, visit the Land, and reap inspiration that will certainly affect and encourage our national Jewish efforts on their return.

To chat with Mikhel Fishman is to become acquainted with the history of the neighborhood from the beginnings of community work to today's broad explosion of growth. To talk with Mikhel Fishman is also to be struck by his enthusiasm for everything that is Jewish nationalism. We found him in his workroom surrounded by his closest collaborators. It was easy to approach him, but difficult to start a conversation. Long lines of people wait to be received by the chairman of the cooperative. And he must soon receive a delegation from an important activist institution; in a half hour, a group of representatives will arrive from a Yiddish book–publishing concern to request the credit union's collaboration. We see that it is members' habit to personally turn to the president with their problems. It's almost impossible to talk to Mikhel Fishman, whose natural modesty makes the task of a newspaper interview all the more difficult.

But he can't refuse to answer the questions that we pose to him, and so we discover that the excursion to Israel was organized not only for people of secure financial means, but rather especially for those for whom such a trip would be a financial burden. So the Floresta cooperative financed the trip expenses–and they were not high–and handed out the tickets on a payment schedule over 20 months at a very minimal interest rate. The trip is made possible in this way, and the dreams of many are made a reality.

The Floresta credit cooperative where Mikhel Fishman holds the office of president has seen extraordinary growth in the years since he took the helm of the institution. Huge obstacles were overcome. For this difficult task, he has received the satisfaction of doing useful and active community work. Today, we find the cooperative in a gorgeous building. It has 5,800 members and a staff of 27. The cooperative grows from year to year and doesn't stop on its path to progress. Along with it, the neighborhood has been enriched and beautified with new office buildings and industries, especially in the furniture line.

[Page 512]

(Excerpt from the Yiddish Word, Argentina, February 18, 1961)

Mikhel Fishman: he is the still water that runs deep, the spirit and the soul of community activism in Floresta and environs, and the very person who best represents everything the word Floresta means in today's Buenos Aires. His modesty is not in conflict with the popularity that he has won thanks to his effort, energy, determination, and even sacrifice. One sees him in his credit cooperative, the People's House, and the State of Israel school, but one sees him also in institutions and organizations that include the entire settlement of Buenos Aires in their activities: the administration of the community council and in the management of the Jewish hospital, the Society for Visiting the Sick, and others.

There was a slogan within the family of Jewish community activists in Floresta: Let's let the builders build. Thus, Mikhel Fishman was reelected for several terms to the office of president of the Floresta credit cooperative, the People's House, and the State of Israel school. That is a sign of the trust he earned. That is how the 6,000 members of the cooperative understood it, that it was an institution where being chairman means not only giving good advice, occupying an office, and directing meetings. Being the president of the Floresta credit cooperative means acting in it daily, taking on and solving its problems, and being concerned about credit and the economic interests of thousands of people who have backing in the institution for their commercial activities, which are a source of livelihood, a point of support for climbing the economic ladder.

How many thousands of people has the cooperative helped in a difficult situation or, heaven forbid, in case of misfortune; how many thousands of people has the cooperative given the opportunity to take the first step in a new industrial undertaking or business; how many thousands of people has the cooperative helped to move forward, grow, and ascend; how many thousands of people has the cooperative transformed from poor people into wealthy ones who today support our community institutions; and how many people has the cooperative drawn into work for Jewish society.

Translation's note

1. Floresta is a neighborhood in the city of Buenos Aires. Return

[Page 513]

Those from Vishnevets remember him well.

May his memory be for a blessing!

People from Vishnevets called Idel Shapiro the multitalented president.

They valued and accepted his energetic work in various institutions–political, social, and municipal.

He was an activist and strong supporter of the Jewish National Fund and the Foundation Fund, which symbolized fractured Zionism.

As president of the General Zionist Organization when the parties had sharp differences in belonging–ness, Shapiro even accepted a loyalist position to the league for a labor Land of Israel. With words and deeds, he showed his concern about the training kibbutz, which was closed in Klosove–Rokitno.

He was the uncrowned patron.

After he immigrated to Israel, Shapiro declared himself a follower of Mapai in Hadera and continued his activities in their ranks.

[Page 514]

We received the following letter with a check enclosed. The story is very interesting and we offer the letter here:

Very Esteemed Editors,

I turn to your honorable newspaper and will without the usual introductions simply come to the point. I am sending you enclosed herewith a letter with a check for $7.50, which I received this week from the Land of Israel from a pioneer by the name of Duvid Roynik from Vishnevets, Volhynia province, and kindly request that you turn the check over to the Foundation Fund in his name.

The history of the check is as follows. I spent last summer in Europe as a messenger for the United Teofipol and Environs Relief Society. In Warsaw, I met the abovementioned pioneer and gave him $50, which one of his sisters from Chicago had sent to him through me; and that helped him realize his ideal of traveling to Palestine as a pioneer. The clothing in which I met him consisted of a jacket and a pair of pants made from a coarse salt–sack, dyed black with ink. With great difficulty, I managed to persuade him to accept one of my suits, and now, after nine months in Palestine, he has found work, very hard work, but enough to make a living. And he sent me this money, the value of the suit, which a tailor had valued at $7.50. For as he said, he didn't want to take the suit until he knew its worth, so that he would know how much he should pay me at as soon as he could.

I don't want to make any use of this money and send it to your newspaper for the Foundation Fund in his name, Duvid Roynik from Vishnevets, now in Tel Aviv, Palestine. I think that the story is worth publishing so that the world may know what idealistic souls the pioneers are.

Sh. Sheyner
Manager, Zhitomir Talmud Torah

N.B. Please send the letter from Palestine, and also a receipt for the money, to me at the Talmud Torah's address.

[Page 515]

She left a many–branched family, two sons, a daughter, and grandchildren.

As did everyone in recent generations, she went through and experienced the chaos and aftermath of World War I.

From Vishnevets, Makhlye married Yekhezkel Vaynman of Proskurov, a respected merchant who was heavily involved in commerce.

[Page 515]

While the Ukrainian freedom movement raged, especially in the Volhynia and Podolia regions, when Petluria's bands and the Haydamaks hit Jewish towns and villages with pogroms, the Vaynman family evacuated to Vishnevets, stayed there for three years, and then emigrated to Argentina and settled in Santa Fe.

In Argentina, one of the sons–Yakov Vaynman–excelled in trade and now directs broad business connections in various countries, including Argentina, Guatemala, Africa, and Israel.

Yakov settled in Israel in recent years and conducts his transactions from there, traveling from time to time to the countries to which he is intensely connected.

He is a sabra, as Yakov Vaynman is prominent in the higher spheres of government circles. We were informed that he was recently invited to and was one of the honored guests at a celebratory reception at the Guatemalan Consulate in Israel.

Yakov Vaynman treasures his dead mother not only for her closeness but especially because Makhlye Vaynman, of blessed memory, was over her long life not only a typical Yiddishe mama with plentiful merits, but also for her outstanding, affectionate and noble relationships with people. She was also a mother to the unfortunate and to those who were suffering. Empathy and help for others were her calling in life.

With her warm heart and devotion, she often helped people in their need, not just for appearances but as a self–evident obligation. It is impossible to manage in a short obituary to express all of her noble acts. It must suffice to give one illustration as fact: when Makhlye by chance visited a Vishnevetser in Buenos Aires and observed her problematic situation, she adopted the young woman for a long time, concerning herself with her existence, and later paid for a lavish wedding.

Yakov Vaynman honors his soulful mother and, in this Vishnevets book, immortalizes her memory with an eternal light for all generations.

May her memory be for a blessing.

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