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R. Yisrael–Moshe Lashchever, or, as they called him in Dubno, “Srul–Moishe Leshchever,” was in the business of trees and forests, like his fathers before him. While this took a lot of his time and energy, R. Yisrael always found time for public service, which was always very helpful for the community. He never belonged to any particular faction or sect, and would never push himself to the head of a line, never put on airs or put himself above anyone. His house was a meeting place, and he had a lot of authority, for he would answer anyone who would come to him seeking his counsel. He served on the city council for many years, and was appointed to deal with social work matters, and the poor and downtrodden – of which there were many in the city – would turn to him with requests for aid. R. Yisrael–Moshe, who never scorned the seemingly inconsequential, would receive them with a smile, listen to the person's request, and act to the best of his ability to help him.

He was active in TOZ ^[1], and he served as the sitting head of the journal “Ort,” and acted in every constructive activity for the sake of the Jews of Dubno.

[Column 402]

Chana Kagan was one of the most acclaimed public figures of Dubno in the years leading up to the Holocaust – serving her nation by dedicating her time for the good of the collective, and involving herself in many causes.

Chana, the daughter of Asher–Zelig and Batya Sis, was born in Rivne in 1889. She received her elementary and high school education there, until she was displaced by the first World War and moved to Russia. In returning to Dubno, she married Mr. Moshe Kagan, and established a home that would become a meetingplace for Zionist activities for many years.

Her first public activity began in 1925, when she established a health group in the city called “TOZ.” She mainly worked to establish successful children's camps and food kitchens for poor children, and camps for youth movements. She went out on behalf of TOZ to check the nutrition in these children's camps, which would get 200–300 children every year, which needed to be at a high level in the city, and she would also look at the youth camps. She was always worried about the nutrition and education of children who wandered the streets or the riverbanks during the summer.

Chana Kagan's social work activities expanded starting in 1932. That year, the municipality of Dubno decided to appoint public social workers for different areas of the city. Of these appointees, three were Jewish: David Horowitz, the pharmacist Sinegel, and Chana Kagan. Her work encompassed a sprawling area, from Tcherno Street to the First Bridge and Shiroka Street. This area was the biggest concentration of the neediest of the city, especially the poorest Jews. One of Mrs. Kagan's tasks was to visit every house and report on the household's need for assistance from the municipality welfare department. She did the best she could for anybody who needed help. The needy of both Jew and non–Jew constantly appeared in droves at the door of her house to fill out registration forms for welfare. Whether in weather rainy and wet, or hot as the sun, one could find Chana Kagan on her visitation route for those who needed her help, her mouth at the ready with words of warm encouragement – she was always genuine.

She was especially concerned for the needy in the days leading up to the holidays, when complications would inevitably arise in getting food assistance to them before the holiday. She dedicated her time to provide support to them and to deliver for them, so that they could be able to afford food, and clothes for their little ones, in celebration of the holiday.

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Hamashkim,” ^[1] and she was deeply saddened by the fact that only a handful of Jewish families joined the group compared to the hundreds of Christian households.

The social work of Chana Kagan was just one aspect of her public activities. The other side was her Zionist work.

In 1937, a WIZO (Women's International Zionist Organization) branch was founded in Dubno, and Chana Kagan was chosen as its first chairwoman. Even after she relinquished her role to Mrs. Starr, she remained the secretary for the branch, and she did so with a passion, especially regarding national institutions and the Tarbut school, where she would visit as a representative of WIZO.

When the decision was made to create a Tarbut school, it was clear that without wider public assistance, it would not be able to be established. Of the many activities that Chana Kagan was part of, her women's groups gave much support for the Tarbut school through monthly donations, in addition to passionately campaigning for one–time payments from others through fundraisers. Along with some of her closest friends, Dina Krantzov, Rivka Reiss, and others, she would pass house to house to collect money, sometimes for national institutions, sometimes for the school, for this was her one objective: Zionism.

With the outbreak of the second World War in September of 1939, all public Zionist activities were immediately stopped. It had seemed that an end had come to the initiative and tirelessness of Chana Kagan. But it was not so. When the Soviet soldiers entered the city, it became flooded with thousands of Jewish refugees who had no means of survival. Chana Kagan, together with Mr. Yisrael–Meir Leshchever, decided on their own (since the organizations were no longer active) to turn toward the secretary of the RaiKom (standing for “raionnyi komitet” – the district committee), who also was the secretary for the Communist party, and requested that he establish a soup kitchen for the refugees. After a few days passed, they received their answer: the municipality will create the soup kitchen, on condition that Ms. Kagan manage it. And so, for a year and a half of the Soviet occupation of the city, she managed the kitchen, making tens of thousands of meals during that period for Polish refugees.

Despite her weakening and waning health, while she divided the time in her last years between her sickbed and her commitment to public service, Chana Kagan continued to act on behalf of the public, Jew and gentile alike, in Dubno. She passed away on May 21st, 1941, just a few weeks before the Germans entered the city.

[Column 404]

My father, R. Shmuel, was born in Dubno in 1878. Whence did the name “Motziver” come? From his grandfather, who came to Dubno from the town of Motziv, which is close to Kovel. This nickname stuck to the family without ceasing, though the townspeople were careful not to say it for fear of offense, while the family enjoyed it as an inside joke.

My father received a traditional education, and when he came of age, his parents said to him, “Torah goes well with work,” ^[1] and they sent him to be an apprentice to a builder. This is what the best Torah scholars and workers did in the city. Over the course of time, after having married and started a large family, he constructed a large house for himself next to the Braslar studyhouse.

In 1912, the Zionist activists in the city decided to establish a Hebrew school. This was quite a difficult task in those days. They had to battle the conservative opinion that such schools were for the “goyim,” the gentiles, whereas the Jews just needed a “Talmud Torah,” religious studies schools. These “crazies” for the idea of a Hebrew school were few in number; rich in vision, but poor in material means. Among the few was my father, who was accepted in the workers' circles, and when a site for the school could not be found, for which the heads were Chaim–Nissan Zaks and Elimelech Blei, my father set aside two rooms of his house for the school, and even sent his first–born daughter to study in the first Hebrew school in the city.

It wasn't long before dark clouds spread over the European skies, with the outbreak of the first World War. Daily life in Dubno was in turmoil, for the city became split in two: on one bank of the Ikva River was occupied by the Austrians, and on the other, the Russians, and they would alternately occupy the town for different periods of time.

And then, a revolution in Russia broke out, and then some time afterward, the Bolshevik Revolution. While the storms of revolutions were taking place in the country, the organized Polish army managed to conquer Dubno.

Slowly but surely, life began to return to normal. Committees were established for various types of aid, and the city institutions began to recover. Meanwhile,

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American aid arrived containing much needed emergency supplies, food and clothes, and this was distributed to those that needed it. My father and mother took part in all of these assistance activities, and with the smile on their faces they knew how to cheer up the needy, to ease the burdens of those difficult times.

My father's activities were many–sided. He was one of the founders of the charity fund, which provided interest–free small loans, and he was also among the Jewish bank coalition and its committee. Additionally, he was appointed on behalf of the Labor ministry for candidates to receive professional building certificates. He acted to the best of his ability to help the individual and the community. That's how he became in one case a “Hasid”, even though he was a “Mitnaged, ^[2]” because it allowed him to help a rabbi who was in particularly dire straits. And he was not frightened of dangerous situations, like the time he had a choice before him: to rescue a Jewish soldier who escaped captivity, or turn his back on him. He surely knew that it could cost him his life, yet, despite this, he still acted to rescue the soldier.

It was his lifelong dream to immigrate to the land of Israel. When people asked him why he allowed his daughter to immigrate to Israel, he answered, “I am planting a tree in the land of Israel. When the plant matures and turns into a tree, it will bear fruits that I can enjoy.” Indeed, he was fortunate to be able to immigrate; in 1935, my father left with his family to Israel, settling in Rishon Letzion, and finding work at the Nesher beer factory, where he was quickly beloved by both his bosses and the other workers. He was happy with his lot – that is, until the second World War broke out and the crushing hand of the Nazis rose upon all the Jewish people of Poland, including the city of Dubno. His heart broke over this great national tragedy, as well as his own tragedy – his only son, who had remained there, was tragically killed in the great holocaust of the House of Israel. His depression hastened his end, and he passed on in 1947.

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The name Avraham Karaulnik cannot be separated from its connection to an important and well–known educational institution in the city: the Jewish–Polish Gymnasium. This was the only Jewish high school that existed for over twenty years. From the day of its founding, until the destruction [of Dubno], it was part of Karaulnik's life. Indeed, this was even represented by his name in how he fostered the institution (“karaul” in Russian means a guard or someone who watches over the welfare of a thing).

In the beginning of the 1920s, when there was a change of the leadership of the city, and the city was joined to the newly–revitalized Polish nation's territory, the Russian gymnasium closed, and Jewish children were left without a high school in which to study. The Polish government's reaction was to establish a Polish state–run gymnasium in place of the Russian one that closed, but the number of spots available to Jewish students was basically zero in comparison to the demand. In response to this new situation, several people, such as Arkhash, Zuckerman, Guberman, and Karaulnik, made efforts to create a new gymnasium for Jewish children. The municipality, viewing it as a private institution, demanded that one person be in charge of the permit for this Jewish–Polish gymnasium. Indeed, the permit provided certain benefits, but many issues too. Avraham Karaulnik overcame the issues, protected the institution from all sides, and in times of crisis, he did not rest nor remain silent, never allowing it to collapse.

Even though he was a businessman, heavily invested in his business, Karaulnik dedicated himself to the institution and took care of any problems, whether it was the building rent, purchasing inventory, or providing for the research labs and other such rooms, as well as paying the teachers their salaries – he took care of all of these things, every task, as if they were his only job. Everyone knew that if one wanted to see Karaulnik, one should look for him first in the gymnasium.

There were many difficult decisions in trying to find a way to secure the survival of the institution. Many teachers found second jobs, and in one instance, through the initiative of Eliyahu Machrook, the teacher, they became members of a cooperative that they founded for themselves. Despite their material difficulties they encountered with the management of the institution, they still made it possible for children whose parents could not afford to pay the tuition, to be able to attend the institute. Without regard to the madness and chaos taking place in the Polish reactionary government, the institute continued to prosper and produce many graduates, who would go abroad to continue their studies. The institution that proved itself capable, its pedagogy on a very high and refined level, ended up, in 1932, even then, “the evil angel is forced to say Amen,” ^[1] and Karaulnik was granted full governmental rights. This man, who never spared any effort on behalf of the institution, merited a town full of those who appreciated him and gave him a special honor for his work.

[Column 407]

[Column 408 Hebrew] [Column 676 Yiddish]

Indeed, this apprentice developed himself alongside his skills at tailoring. He was an autodidact, and as an autodidact does, he kept becoming more and more learned, attained more understanding, and assimilated what he learned and read. During the reactionary times after 1905, he emigrated to America, but two years later returned to live close to his brother in his old hometown.

In 1912, angered over fraud perpetrated in recruitment for interning apprentices, he organized a protest. The Ochrana (the Russian Czarist secret police) persecuted him because of his demands for better working conditions for workers. He was imprisoned, and his family was left hungry and impoverished. However, even his release only brought more frustration: his wife, who seemed not to understand the meaning of his activities, had burned all of his books, books he had collected and compiled through great effort, a labor of love. So, all of these events converged upon him to crush his spirit, yet he prevailed, and persecution only served to make him stronger, and he even more passionately fought for workers' rights.

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He was the very definition of the “Bund” man; even though this particular political stream was not very popular in Dubno, he stood as its political leader for the small circle of followers that existed in the city, and even his ideological opponents respected him as a man of integrity.

Leib Luchnik did not know how to take a break from public activities. Three times he was elected to the city council. A man of the community, always doing the best he could to help those in need of assistance. He was there for the oppressed and the wretched, and used every means at his disposal – lobbying, persuasion, debates, raising funds, and so on – in order to lighten the weight of their bitter lots. He vowed war against the rich who also knew of this situation [and did nothing to help].

And when the Soviets came to Dubno, and the Bundists were being hunted down, this politically rebellious and public–facing man took on a decree of silence, and willingly became home–bound. He disconnected from society and put a stop to his activities, distancing himself from the public life which had been indeed his entire life, and ceased any communication with the leaders of Bund, who had been his most intimate friends beforehand.

The conclusion to this popular man's life was to be torn away from public activism in the twilight of his life, and he was brought, alongside his fellow brethren of the city, to the mass grave…

Born in Brody in Galicia, Dr. Margulies received an extensive education in his childhood, drawing from Jewish traditional roots, and received a doctorate in Philosophy at the university in Vienna. At the end of the 1920s, he served as the principal of the Jewish–Polish Gymnasium in Dubno, and gave his time and effort to raise this foundational institution, making it fit to be a well–regarded school in the eye of the government. In a time when educational institutions displayed open hostility towards the Jewish people, he knew how important it was to instill and strengthen the national identity within the institution, raising the feeling of self–pride in the students.

Dr. Margulies quickly integrated into public life and society in Dubno, becoming one of its leaders. In the 1930s, he was elected to serve as second–in–command to the head of the city, his prominent position like thorns in the eyes of the antisemites.

During the Holocaust, some “good” Germans tried to get him “schayenem” ^[1] – documentation – that would give him an easier life in the ghetto, but he refused the “goodness” of his oppressors, and he remained strong–willed as ever even during times which produced in him a psychological depression. Several times he tried to take his own life, but Jewish doctors saved him. In the end, he chose to kill himself rather than by the hands of those cruel monsters, the shame of humanity.

[Column 410]

[Column 411 Hebrew] [Column 675 Yiddish]

A lawyer by trade, Yosef Borisowicz was unique among the people of his generation for being fortunate enough to receive an education that primed him against assimilation, and he remained a man of his people, close to the educational institutions, a member of the school's teacher council, and his passion showed. He was active in credit funds, worker's banks, as well as charity funds connected to the synagogue of Rabbi Abraham Mordechai.

According to the eye–witness testimony of one of the survivors of Dubno, she last saw Yosef Borisowicz on April 7th, 1942. She describes that day:

“That day, the day following the night of the first Passover seder, they decreed in Dubno that one of the quarters be judenrein – cleared out of Jews. That morning, the inhabitants of that quarter began to schlep their belongings on their backs, bringing them to the streets designated for Jews. There were no means for transportation, there were no movers, and so, a person could only save what could be carried. They had limited time, just a number of hours.

One of the prominent figures with a bag on his back was Yosef Pinchasowicz, who walked with his head held high, proud, as if he were a free man. Nevertheless, alongside this pride was the knowledge of the deep, deep tragedy in his eyes of the “eternally wandering Jew”. None of his good deeds, and great merits, helped him then…”

[Column 411 Hebrew] [Column 678 Yiddish]

Indeed, the image most memorable regarding this righteous woman was her short stature, her gaunt and wrinkled face, how she only ever wore one type of clothing: a black dress with a light–red shawl covering her entirely. She seemed like a typical Jewish woman – but not so! Unlike all the others, she carried a great weight on her dainty shoulders. We speak not only of the weight of a family, which on its own was almost too much, difficult and painful, but also the weight of the sum of her social welfare contributions, if we can use the modern nomenclature. Her contribution was not a pre–set amount of activity, or by supporting institutions, but toward a specific institution that concerned itself with distributing funds collected by donations to fulfill the social welfare needs of many people. She would run around to the rich people of the city, demanding – and succeeding in getting – donations from them for the social welfare needs. Her great passion convinced all

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to give; no person could refuse her.

Sarah'ke Dubtzis never studied psychology, nor gained expertise in social work or charity work, but she had a heart of fire, ready and willing to help all those who looked to her for help. She did that which today an institute would do to help various types of needs. Similarly, she would worry over the needs of prisoners, help the destitute sick, helping even to raise poor children, and so on.

Her warmhearted countenance, which expressed the full meaning of “Love thy fellow as thyself”, added to the aura of authority and her moral power. Passing through the streets, she constantly be saying “Gut morgen” – “Good morning”, to anyone she met on her way, for indeed, everyone knew her, and appreciated her for the goodness and kindness for those who needed help and compassion.

Her name became synonymous in the city for a wholesome and pure woman working to help others.

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R. Avraham Lichter was known in Dubno by the name R. Avraham Wallitzer, after the village called Wallitz where his grandfather had lived. If you asked about R. Abraham Lichter in Dubno, nobody would know who he was, or where he lived. But if you asked about R. Abraham Wallitzer – any child could show you his house.

R. Avraham Lichter was born in 5630 [1870]. Pure in his ways and sociable, R. Avraham devoted himself for many years to matters relating to charity work, out of a concern for the city's needy. As the sitting head of the charity fund, which was situated next to the religious studyhouse (he was the prayer administrator (gabbay) there for 20 consecutive years), he would provide interest–free loans with a collateral guarantee for anyone who needed one, which they could pay back with small payments. Obviously, the fund needed a lot of money, and so R. Avraham would visit the city elites and give rousing speeches to convince them to contribute to the fund. He instituted a custom that every year, during the week in which the Torah portion was “Mishpatim” (“Judgements”), ^[1] anyone who was called up to the Torah in any of the city's synagogues would agree to contribute to the fund, and immediately after this he would go from gabbay to gabbay collecting the money donated to the funds.

R. Avraham was also involved in other charity institutions that existed in the city, dedicating his time and energy to them. He was lucky to have such a generous and giving wife, Golda, who was forced to work very hard alone at the two stores they owned, to enable her husband to be involved in charity work.

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Golda knew that she would receive merit in the next world for the charity her husband did in this world…

Escorting those who were immigrating to Israel

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His name was Yaakov Rinsburg, but in Dubno he was called Yankel Sanis. He was a man remarkable in his ways and his refined character traits, a symbol of generosity and wholesomeness, always helping anyone who needed assistance.

His house was across the studyhouse of the Hasidic followers of Ołyka, and he was the prayer administrator (gabbay) there for many years. His hospitality

R. Yankel Sanis knew everyone in Dubno, and everyone knew him. He knew when those who struggled with making a living couldn't make ends meet, worrying over each and every one of them: This one needs food for the Sabbath, this one needs matzah for Passover, that third one needs firewood for winter… he would send them the funds – anonymously and discreetly, of course, so no one would know and he would not cause another to be embarrassed in public, God–forbid, that they needed such help. His entire life was filled with public needs: the Jewish medical clinic in the city, the old–age home, the religious school Talmud Torah, providing for Passover charity campaigns (maos chitin), and so on. He would bring starving children into his home and feed them, and then give them presents of candies and pastries.

R. Yankel had a hoarse voice, yet every so often, he would lead the prayers, for he so loved the mitzvah of being the prayer leader.

R. Yankel died at the hands of those murderers along with the rest of the community of Dubno as holy martyrs.

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The noble image of a woman who knew, despite all the upheavals of life, how to stand strong and with pride – that was Esther Feffer. Born in Dubno to R. Chaim Deibog, a lawyer and an important person in the city, she received a higher education in music in the Academy of Music in Liège, Belgium. She began to teach music in Pryluky, and later in Dubno, and soon many parents were knocking on her door asking for her to teach their children music. She dedicated a lot of her time to the good of the community, playing concerts for the needy, for free, without any expectation of payment.

Also when in Israel, Esther Feffer donated some of her time to teach music, and though much of her time was already dedicated to pedagogical work, she knew she also needed to adapt to the agricultural work of where she lived, Kfar Saba. She became beloved and her cultured personality and her refined character traits shined through.

In her final years, she suffered a harsh sickness, and when she felt that her time was coming, she willed: “Do not oppose an autopsy after death, for perhaps they will be able to understand the disease and save others who suffer from the disease.”

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[Column 418]

He was an outstanding student in the gymnasium, a star in the Maccabee football club, a counselor/leader in “Shomer HaTzeir”. Like most youths in his circles in Dubno before the World War, all he desired was getting ready and leaving for the land of Israel.

His life in Israel started in 1929, in the workforce, in the kibbutz, in public activities. He had the power of persuasion, in convincing friends to get involved in public work. His words were pleasant and his sentences well–structured, precise and reasoned.

His thoughts were always on how to memorialize the community of Dubno in a book, and contributed much of his energy to organize it and realize this hope. He did not merit to see that book come to light, and, at the age of 55, disease ripped him from the land of the living.

Born in Dubno in 1910, he received a traditional religious Jewish education as well as a secular one. Studious from his youth, he received a doctorate already at the age of 22 for law, yet never ceased his interest in Jewish studies. He lived according to the dictum: “A Jew in the home, and a Jew in the street.” ^[1]

[Column 419]

His army expertise and law knowledge represented his life.

In 1939, he arrived in the Land of Israel, and as a proud Jew and army man, he immediately found his path as a leader in the Haganah. With the establishment of the State of Israel, the army integrated as a permanent fixture, and as a man of the law, he was appointed to serve in the higher military court, and in 1953, the head prosecutor in the army.

Dr. Lichtenstein–Zohar then joined the lecturer staff of Hebrew University. His analytical mind, his direct personality and his knowledge of law and order, allowed him to rise in the ranks to high positions in the international organization of military law, and he spent much time working on the adjudication of army law. Much of his work left after him is called in lawyer–slang “Law of Zohar.”

He was a high colonel in the army, and a high champion in his talks with his friends, ears always listening to what he had to say, and he always made his point clear to others. He was rich in spirit, modest in his conduct toward others, an exemplary friend and an admirable family man. He spent much effort presenting his memories of Dubno in the book “Dubno”, but did not merit in seeing the book come to light, for his tie to life was loosened in 1961.

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