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Across the mud puddles of Korets, that the annoying autumn and its gray, murky rains left behind, there was a fresh, clear, Kislev [Hebrew month, December time] type of wind that, with a clear blue breath, blew across the mud puddles and from there, their dark signs distanced, bringing on the first frost wave and covering them with a veil. There was some sort of early spring freshness in the fresh, cool, chill of early winter, and when the day is still pure, not cloudy, and as the day progresses, it becomes bluer, the sky higher up and deeper. This has come with winter. A new winter, a second spring. A spring that heals gloom, depression, dampness, wetness, and the muddiness of autumn. And when the first snow suddenly arrives at a back street in the evening, the earth is already drying. Dry, and the roofs clean, swept, wiped, and the snow can settle calmly and quietly, and see and feel itself before it begins to melt, dousing itself and disappearing.

The first snow is like a spy, that is how the land looks, the bathhouses and air are proof, and the air as well, and when it warms up the branches of the trees, the rooftops, and the gates, the empty spots in the marketplace, and the heads of the red and black colored posts at the side of the dirt road, then the second snowfall already comes more comfortably, and it already stays for a longer time, and sometimes it throws its white breath into the webbed fingers of the third snow, and the fourth already comes as if to its home, to its own home, for winter.

Certainly, Korets is still alive today, after Germany slaughtered and burned its Jews. But it already has no Jewish flavor,

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but the winter, and the summer as well, still come there all melting, and it will likely take a long time until they will figure out that they are now in a different, a Christian world. Jews lived for a long time with Korets nature, and it became Jewish: Jews converted it, it spoke Yiddish, thought and dreamed in Yiddish. The Christians themselves, in Korets and around Korets, had a spark of Jewishness in them. It burned in them like a flame in non-kosher tallow. But it burned. There was so much Jewish sadness, Jewish wedding joy, that was absorbed through the air that we breathed into the Korets Christians. It did not have to take a lot, though, and this spark in them was soon doused. That is also how nature is there. For several weeks and their evenings, the Jewish windows did not see the holy flames of the lit Shabbath candles, the Jewish mothers' deep thoughtfulness as they recited the Shabbath techina [special recitations for women], all in the more beautiful world that our people carry in their hearts, and – nature once again became Christian, a simple peasant, without the Jewish trembling and fevers on its face. And maybe there will always remain a Jewishness in the air and in the spirit of Reb Pinchas of Korets, the flame of his life, the dream of his holiness will roam around there infinitely. Maybe I think this way because I am sorry, I am in pain, because so many areas will remain wild without Jews. The world is becoming savage, but it can also become civilized. The hundreds of Jewish years that were destroyed and suffocated at once passed over like an unnatural dream, and now the materialistic, heavy corporality has settled there.

Old, eternally young former Korets winter, I will invite you into the gates of my book, and frame you in the silver of refined Yiddish, so that you remain in the minds of Jewish generations, whose grandfathers and great-grandfathers who wandered in the world settled in an old wagon that was left behind in the middle of the field, and in a wild forest, for 2,000 years. I don't want to lose before my eyes any part of the world whose body fell into the hands of the eternal, two-legged, civilized, semi-civilized animals, but whose soul remained alive as part of our entire national soul.

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All the tragic, frightened beauties and holy days, brightened minutes, will reconnect in our treasure. Why should I not try a flatter tone across those lost settlements, and search for those splints and broken currents, as they hid themselves, covered themselves, disappeared before the impure Christian eye. I want to uncover you as one uncovers a sheet off a young tombstone, a sheet off a covered mirror, and in a moment you should be at a standstill before me in the calm, white vision of your fresh death. Lived in the place of Korets, and then died. I was given strength and tranquility and power, and I came to this dead home, meaning Korets, purified it with my songs, with my Tehillim [Psalms], lifted it up as a child from its death, and carried it up to the hill of eternity.

It's already the third day that it begins to snow in the morning. The snow falls softly and calmly from the not-so-dark, lofty heaven's grayness, and lays with a joyous kindness on the earth, on the rooftops, wrapping the bushes of the trees and wires of the telegraph poles in whiteness. Exactly at midday, when people are eating warm lunch, the snow begins to fall slowly, so that you can stand and count the flakes of the long, trailing lines of falling snow. That's how it was the day before yesterday, yesterday, and today. And the whiteness, the goodness, and the calmness that envelops the entire world, smooth as a gentle hand of a mother on a tiny child, as a mark, a scratch on the soul. Doors of Korets homes do not squeak, make noise, when they open or close. You can hardly hear them. The Korets marketplace is also not noisy, even on the “fair” day, it does not get so noisy. The shops are doing business, they sell and buy. Sometimes, a small argument presents, a shout, a complaint, but it does not last long. Now, in the white, calm, warm-homey winter world it is very quiet and comfortably homey in the Korets market. Even the Christians do not behave as usual. The Jews and Christians live well together for a long time. The priest's boy

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who would give speeches in the church and to assembled youth and would reveal secrets about Jews, suddenly became ill and no longer appears outside. They say that the priest once visited the home of the Rav, and they enclosed themselves into an alcove for a long time and had a discussion. The Rav himself never talked about this, never spoke a word about this to anyone. But Korets does not like secrets, even on those white, discrete, dreamy days. Someone already crawled into the chimney of the Rav's house or sneaked behind a thin wall and brought out with him the secret in a small package and then threw it under each door. Everyone knew.

On the old platforms in the marketplace sit the Jewish men and women and sell all kinds of things. They are dressed in heavy clothes, even though the days are cool-warm, and the white and pureness of the snow emit, one thinks, an invisible goodness that is also a certain warmth. The booth merchants, women, and men, sit a little in their messy, heavy outer garments, removing the woolen scarves and even the scarves from under the shawls. Their foreheads are higher up, the eyes more open, clearer: the taste of poor comfort lies satisfied on the lips of the Jewish fathers and mothers and the materials that they are selling are certainly more appealing today than any other time. Today is a beautiful, calm, God-trusted day.

During winter, the Korets stalls were selling a particular type of lovely item, especially for the young, for boys and really for the youngest, thinnest, and gentlest of them. They began to show a new type of corn-brown cookie [cake] that took your breath away. These cakes were baked, they say, with a new type of honey, from a new type of bee that is captured in the distant forest, in the wild. So, these were a new type of honey cakes. Avigdor, the sugar-baker, is the one who made these. He got the means of how to make them in Rowno. He was in Rowno for five days and returned a complete master of the art of making these new cakes, and gently sweetened them. No matter how many he baked, it was never enough. He just put in full shelves and filled corners of the ovens and in a few hours that whole area was dried out [used up].

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Angry tongues, selfish ones, already tried to frighten them, by saying that it could potentially harm them, that the Korets children celebrated too much and that a penny became an apostate. But no one listened to these words, and for now, God forbid, no one got harmed. The marketplace was filled with children, they collected in groups of ten around the stalls, and the cake saleswomen became almost like mothers – good, dear, warm sugar mothers. The honey cakes streamed out of their eyes and flowed out of their lips and mouths. Especially on a silver-clear day as today, when the snow was glowing from morning until nighttime, and especially at night.

I remember that particular Korets winter very vividly. Even the nights were unusually clear, high, transparent, with huge moons and stars also greater than usual. In the later years of unrest, revolutions, and wars, I do not remember any time frame where there were a few days, some time, that would stand out under such a calm joyful, light. There were no heavy, windy, stormy weathers that winter,

A street in Korets

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and therefore it holds a special and eternal place in my memory. In the winters, mainly around New Year and the Christian holidays, hundreds and hundreds of farmers would come to Korets from the surrounding villages. Many of them camped out in the courtyards of the churches where there were many huts, and throughout the days there were many religious events with endless colorful, religiously decorated, gilded flags. An endless number of children, in an endless row, all dressed in short, white shirts over their dark clothes, stretched across the streets. Priests, young and old, in all kinds of bundled garb, with tall, silken crown-like hats, and long satin capes, and with heavy, massive crosses across their stomachs. They hummed and sang and stopped many times and did not skip other churches or important places, but just in the middle of the path, near a Jewish shop, the fancy priests looked strangely at the Jewish shops which were mainly closed. The shopkeepers were standing not far from their locked doors, veiled and masked in real faith in heaven, hoping that everything would pass peacefully. When the religious procession ended and it became quiet across the road, the shops on both sides of the road reopened. Even though the church bells were still chiming, their rings already had a different tone, a calm one, a mild one.

All this happened in the earlier winters. This winter, which I am describing, of which I am recounting here, was completely different, and there was no religious procession at all. The priest's boy, who had come from Rowno, and did have something in mind, and did prepare some speeches for the youth in the churches, suddenly disappeared, and people found out that he was very sick. A few days later, one early morning, we heard a loud and sad chiming from the St. Michael Church, and that day they passed through the path with the casket containing that boy's body. A small funeral with just a few flags and a few wagons packed with flowers. Jewish passersby stood aside and raised their hats. The priest, the father of the deceased, not a tall person, with a grayish-brownish short beard,

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walked by sadly, bent over, and almost totally silent. The Jews in Korets became a little frightened. The shops that were opened after the funeral procession were not kept open for long. They closed them in the early evening and they went home. During supper at home, people spoke about the priest's son and about his death. Many conjectures were expressed. Religious, God-fearing Jews quietly thought, and maybe even expressed openly, that maybe here was God's will and God's mercy, and there was no rage and no pogrom. People said that the priest, the father of the boy, tried to work on his son, that he should give up his rabble rousing. The young boy had planned a “tour” across the villages around Korets, and in each settlement and small area that was inhabited by poor, downtrodden peasants, he was supposed to talk to them and explain primarily to the youth of those places about the wealth that the Jews possessed and the Jewish hatred towards the peasants and the Jewish stealing and making poor the village peasants who had to become dependent on the Jew for materials and sustenance.

The following morning, when the Jews left the first minyan [quorum for prayers] and went to their shops, overnight, when everyone was asleep, a soft, silvery snow had fallen, and silenced the city and gave it a different, new calm and joyous appearance as never before. The whiteness of the snow that completely and totally enveloped Korets, however, did not completely blind the eyes, as usually happens, but the opposite: It glared directly into everyone's face, like a clear, huge sun, without lightening streaks. It is a long and distant time since then, and when I think about it now, I don't want anything different than to see the non-blinding power of the timely snow, not the characteristics, not its specific advantages such as the clarity and calmness of it, of which they have never before seen anything like it as was that night. That winter, there was some sort of godly, paternal love over Korets, and that is why I remember it so well, even though I was so young at that time.

Original footnote:

1. This chapter on memories and also the chapters “The Koretz Poor,” and “Types of Korets Teachers,” which are published in our Yizkor Book, were sent to us by Segal's brother-in-law, the editor A.Sh. Schkolnikov, and Segal's sister, the editor Esther Segal-Schkolnikov, who live in Canada. They are very thankful for this publication. Return

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Our city Korets was named after the Kortchek River. The river wrapped around the city and with its twists cut it into sections. The place where the five tanneries stood was called “below the tanneries”, the place where the flour mills stood was called “below the mills” and the area where the earthenware factory stood was called – “Crockery”

A number of bridges crossed the river. Across from the main bridge lay “below the mills” and on the other side of Orenstein's bridge lay the “New City,” which was built after the great fire that broke out at the end of the 19^th century.

The river overflowed in the spring, swept fertilizers and foodstuffs, and fertilized the fields and the gardens on its shores. The gardens bloomed and flowered, and covered the city with a carpet of greenery. And then, Korets looked like a blooming garden. The lawns and meadows on the riverbank were called “flowery banks“. From here we left for boat excursions on the river.

The river had a special magic in each season of the year, and enticed the residents, mostly the youth. And when the river froze, and the ice thickened – sleds loaded with firewood and wheat traveled on it, and in this manner shortened the way from one part of the city to another.

Groups of boys and girls went down to the river with joy and exultation to skate on the ice. We climbed on the hills with small sleds, and sled down to the frozen river with a youthful whim.

In the winter, the water drawers broke holes in the ice, and draw the drinking water for all the members of the city. Dozens of families earned their living from that. The washerwomen went down to these “holes,” and beat the laundry in the cold water until they looked like frozen boards.

As spring approached, the city was shaken by the sound of loud explosions: “The icebergs are coming.” The ice broke, and huge chunks floated in the strong wind. And then, the Kortchek became a vast river. The bridges were destroyed more than once, and not just one tree has fallen victim to the malicious icebergs. It was a magnificent sight to see how this small river “achieved greatness” and raged in a youthful vigor. But, nothing lasts forever. The icebergs melted, the river returned to its natural borders, and the
“water abated.”

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The Kortchek River by the bridge

Great was the commotion by the river on Friday. Clear the way and give respect! The pot-bellied “samovar” is “walking” to immerse itself in the water and smarten up for the Sabbath, and all the other kitchen utensils are “marching” behind it.

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The amazing sand, which was used to brush and scrub, was only found on the riverbank, and the “samovars” and the skillets shone and dazzled the eyes. This work, which lasted from sunrise to late at night, was accompanied by singing and laughter, and merged with the singing of the Ukrainian washerwomen.

At night, especially on Friday night, old and young went down to the river bank equipped with blankets. They spread on the lawns, enjoyed the cool air, the fragrant of the flowers and the singing of the nightingale which spilled into space and filled the air with its magic sound.

The playgrounds and the athletics fields were also located on the riverbank, but they weren't the most advanced. The boys played soccer there, and we put up tents and built camps there. But our parents drove us away from there, because they saw in it a desecration of the Sabbath. In particular, they had many complains against the sailing, what, even on the Sabbath! Once, when we didn't have enough oars, we took shovels to sail the boats with. This matter caused a great storm, because the pious of our city suspected that we left for work on the Sabbath…

And when autumn approached and with it the “High Holidays,” we spread along the riverbank and searched for braches with thin leaves for “Hoshanot.” And when the day of “Tashlich” arrived, not a living soul was left in our city Korets. Everyone streamed to the riverbank, some on the bridges and some on the shore. Old and young prayed by the water, emptied their pockets and threw all their sins and crimes to the Kortchek's flowing water.

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It may seem odd, that one day, when you reminisce about the distant past, you remember the pleasant and dear, and forget the sad and shocking. Perhaps, subconsciously, a person is trying to forget the unpleasant, and for that reason he's drawn to the pink and the heartwarming memories.

Here's “Synagogue Street” with its unattractive one-storey houses, but how beautiful and fascinating they were on the Sabbath and on the holidays. Great light penetrated from the windows of the little houses with their white curtains. The synagogues shone brightly. Our parents became princes, filled the houses of worship and the nearby streets by the hundreds, and a delightful sound came out of them.

And here's the praised “Yeshiva,” the house of learning for the majority of Korets' sons and all of Wolyn. It left its mark not only on the religious life, but also inspired an atmosphere of study and research throughout Korets. Sons gave up their comfortable life at home, and spent several years in the “Yeshiva,” to draw from the springs of our ancient civilization.

We were born in one of these houses. Most of the furniture passed from one generation to another, and weren't replaced as it is customary these days. But, they didn't smell of mold, only of pleasant memories of past generation.

A general view of the city

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Indeed, new spirits blew in every house, at least in most of them, but they were related to the far distant past, when the nation of Israel sat on its land. They integrated into the vision of the future that seemed far but tangible.

I remember the stories about the Land of Israel in which we will be farmers, and I was given the role of a shepherded. These stories were accompanied by pictures that my mother of blessed memory found in one of the Russian geography books. It told of the different races and nations, including an Arab with a cruel face and grinding teeth. A shiver ran through my body, and I barely got over the fear that attacked me when I thought that I'd meet him at my work in Israel, and how could I defend myself?

The Hebrew School completed the picture of the distant past, explained it, enlarged its scope and made the future more tangible. To this day I remember the teacher Gilman of blessed memory, who dramatized the story of Bat Yiftach, and we were so close to the same glorious past. Every important event in the Zionist movement was celebrated grandly. So it was during the opening of the university on Mount Scopus, and so it was during other Zionist celebrations.

A youth movement was added, and made the heroes and the kings of the Jewish nation more daring and venerable. We started to see the present as a passageway to something more beautiful. Then, we saw the poverty of our homes. We felt that there was no point in our present life, and therefore, we had to prepare ourselves for the future. The youth of Korets, which was part of the youth of Wolyn, constituted the natural reserve of manpower and creativity, and the revival movement was built from it.

The heart is hurting and grieving that such a rich Jewish source was destroyed and diluted. We will fight the minister of forgetfulness to the end of our days, so we won't forget our parents, our brothers and sisters, who were our flesh and blood.

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In 1917, with the outbreak of the revolution in Russia, I returned to Korets from the front. Waves of the revolution increased throughout all of vast Russia, but they did not come to our city. It was as if Korets was steeped in the dream of Honi, the Circle Maker [=1^st century B.C.E. legend], and did not know even the smallest thing about the immense change that was taking place outside its walls. The old Tsarist regime, too, had not yet dissolved. The Pristav [=bailiff], Sadovsky, continued to be the governor, the “Gorodovye” [=city police] stayed in their place, and also the “Strazhiniks” [=security guards], Kachanovsky and Beilin, still stood at their posts.

In Korets, there were two Jewish political parties: the Zionists and the left-wing “Poale-Tzion” party, which evidenced a strong and open leaning towards Communism. Almost all of its members were students in various faculties: the law student, Mordechai Finklestein, Izzi Kaminer, Asher Tuvavin, and the two brothers, Asher and Lazar Tuvavin, the grandsons of Wolf Tuvavin. They all attended

The main street named after Koshtshyushko

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various universities. There was also one female member, Bavel Schorin, the daughter of Wolf-Zelig, the teacher. She lived in “Praval” (depression) of Brezhdova Street.

I came to this group and I let out a shout: the revolution has broken out, and yet with us, everything goes on as usual. We must celebrate the Holiday of the Outbreak of the Revolution and begin to introduce new orders in the city.

At the same time, there was a battalion of uhlans [=cavalrymen armed with lances] in Holovnytsya, four kilometers from Korets. We called a meeting in which we picked a delegation to present itself before the uhlans, who were part of the revolutionary army. The delegation was made up of Aizik Chimenes, Finklestein, and Binyamin Wasserman, a builder who lived on Synagogue Street.

We came to an agreement with the battalion committee and it was decided to celebrate the Holiday of the Revolution on the next Sunday. Activists of the uhlans returned to the city with us. We went to the sugar factory and chose a revolutionary committee for the plant. From there, we attacked the four tanners that were in the city. The activity of this organization was connected to great hardships because the workers were in the dark and did not grasp at all the spirit of the new regime.

I remember one episode: at one of the leather factories was a Jewish worker named Yosef Narvas. When I finished my propaganda speech, he got up on the platform and shouted: “It's nonsense, what is a workers' committee to me and what is a workers' council - give me white flour to bake challahs for Shabbat”?

The Ukrainians who lived in the new city understood the matter of the revolution according to their own concepts. They saw in every Jew a synonym for bourgeois and taught the rule that the revolution permitted them to carry out pogroms upon the Jews. And they joined rule to action: a Jew by the name of Licht lived in the new city, owner of a small factory working sheep hides. The “revolutionary” committee of the neighborhood decided to expel Licht and to confiscate his house and his business. I sent for the chairman and asked for an explanation for this action. He answered me decisively: once upon a time, laws were given from above to below and now, they are given from below to above. With threats and convincing words, I managed to calm the waves of animosity towards the Jews and they did not expel Licht.

The Holiday of the Revolution was celebrated with great splendor and glory. A great quality was already felt in the early hours of the morning. A giant parade was arranged, in which all the residents of the city participated. I rode a horse as the Commandant of the parade. A large stage was erected next to the sugar factory, from which the Commander of the battalion of the uhlans, Comrade Finklestein, and his brother, Shmuel Finklestein, on behalf of the Zionists, spoke to the demonstrators.

At the end of the speeches, the parade broke up and we went to practical work. We organized the “Soviet of Workers and Soldiers,” into which representatives of the leftist “Poale-Tzion”

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and representatives of the various professional organizations came. The tailors' organization sent Zeidle Fifer, an educated man, who lived on Synagogue Street. In 1905, when isolated signs of the “Bund” were seen in Korets, Zeidle favored the “Bund,” but later he left it.

I served as the chairman of the revolutionary workers council. Finklestein was the honorary secretary. Chaim Melamed was my personal secretary. We began to organize various cooperatives for workers. In the administration, Wasserman, a member of “Poale-Tzion,” and Zeidle Fifer participated. Moshe Solomianik, son of Yitzhak Solomianik, who lived “behind the mills,” served as the principal bookkeeper.

At the same time as the “Workers' Council,” a “Citizens' Committee” was organized in the city. There were representatives from the religious and the Zionist circles: Ha-Rav Lidski, the Rav on behalf of Gerschenhorn, Dr. Zeitlin, Dr. Yanyeh Gerschenhorn, and Zeidle Sdeh-Lavan. From the leftist circles: Finklestein, Asher Tuvavin, Zeidle Fifer, Wasserman, and me.

The “Workers' Council” continued its organizing work and it was they who controlled the social and cultural life in Korets. However, the times were not as they should be and there was no stable government in our city. In 1918, the reactionary forces reared their heads and threatened all our social and political achievements. In the fall of that year, an entire battalion of rioters, called hetmans after their hetman, Hetman, who lived in Kyiv. Our luck was that they didn't come alone because with their coming, the German army entered Korets. I emphasize “our luck” because the Germans of that time were liberal and the Commandant of the German army warned the hetmans that, should they let loose pogroms against the Jews of Korets - he would take serious measures.

Even though there was no danger to our lives, we expected the elimination of our professional organizations and political parties. We decided not to eliminate the “Workers' Council,” although we pretended that we didn't have one and had nothing to do with the Bolsheviks. The Commander of the army invited us and requested that we take down the sign, “Council of Workers and Soldiers” and, in its place, hang a sign that would say only “Soviet Rabotsikh” (“Workers' Council”), without soldiers.

In the Jewish street in Korets, the winds of “Hadesh Yamenu Ke-Kedem” [=renew our days as of old] began to blow. The rich and the tough who had made themselves small and been afraid to open their mouths during the rule of the “Workers' Council,” because the true owner of the business was the revolutionary workers' committee, lifted their heads up again with the coming of the Germans and asked to take revenge and to be avenged from the workers.

In our city there were four factories for the working of hides whose owners were Solomianik, Kliefeld, Gildenhorn, Gershfeld, Schocken, and Gurewitz. In this last house, the German military headquarters were stationed.

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The workers of these factories came to the “Soviet” with their cry that they were fired from their jobs and asked for our help. We had one worker with us, Feivush Smolier, who took care of small children. The anger spilled out on this poor fellow and they fired him from his job. The “Workers' Council” came to a rapid and strong decision that if Smolier is not returned to work - we would strike all of the factories.

This was on Sunday. Feivush came to work, but the owners chased him out, shouting: Go away! We don't have any work for you. The sign was immediately given and a general strike was called. All the strikers came to the “Workers' Council.” We held a general meeting and chose Lazar'ke Tuvavin, who spoke German well, to go to the Commandant and explain to him the motivations that moved us to call a strike. The Commandant announced that he wished to invite the “Workers' Council” and the employers to come to him.

It turned out that Commandant Goffman was a liberal man. He knocked on a desk and announced that he would not permit the dismantling of the professional organizations and asked forcefully to return all the workers, Smolier among them, to work.

This was, I believe, the first strike in Korets and it was crowned with great success.

During this period of confusion about which I speak, a time when Korets went from hand to hand, and governments and regimes served up a mess - the “39 Battalion” and the “Etapanya Rota” [=army division with unreliable soldiers] camped in the city, taking over the empty factory building that once belonged to Yokel Kligerman. Similarly, the “Bronirovna Battaria” [=a formation of the army with artillery guns], a fighting division of Russians, camped in the city. These were nice people, educated, and they all came from Leningrad. This was a mechanized army that would patrol the city with vehicles loaded with weapons.

Over time, the “Etapanya Rota” turned into a group of brigands who would wander about at night and rob and ransack. Once they entered the home of Chaim Spivack, who owned a factory for textiles, and they robbed him of his merchandise and also stole his wife's jewelry. It was very painful for us to see these robbers moving about the streets and offering for sale the various clothes and jewelry that they had stolen from the Jews. The custom of these thieves was, when they saw a Jew, they would say to him: Buy a coat from me, which meant, If you don't give me your coat - your blood will be on your head. And immediately the murderer would rip his coat off him, steal his money, and leave him almost naked. And later, they turned to more “effective” operations and they threw a grenade into the house of Meir Galushover (wig

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maker). On that same night, a meeting of the “Citizens' Committee” met in the Trisker enclave in order to discuss ways to adopt against the rioters. A frightened Jew came into the enclave and shouted: Jews, scatter and escape with your lives because they are about to throw grenades into the synagogue. The frightened Jews scattered and came to the “Soviet,” which at that time was located in Yudel Chirik's house. They found only Chaim Melamed and me. I suggested that we should adopt the “Bronirovna Battaria” and then they would protect us. My suggestion was accepted and I immediately called the “Battaria” committee. A short while later, members of the committee appeared and we met with them. I explained to them that these riots were not directed only at the Jews, but at the revolution. Therefore, it was necessary to uproot these murderers - them and their deeds.

The explanation made sense to them and we decided to arrange a guard made up of Jews and soldiers of the “Battaria.” Nevertheless, with the outbreak of the riots, we had organized a Jewish police force headed by Itzik Krautopfsich, but its forces were never sufficient.

Four soldiers of the battalion remained in the “Soviet,” armed with pistols, and they even honored me with a small “Bulldog” pistol. We went out on guard duty. That same night, they plundered Dr. Zeitlin's house. A student by the name of Sukenik lived next door to him and he tried to forcefully stop the rioters, but he was forced to evade the murderers and to escape from certain death.

It was 11 to midnight. Korets looked like a large cemetery then. Shutters were closed, lights were out, and the Jews stayed shut up in their homes for fear of the murderers.

Korets on weekdays

[Page 82]

We went up on the bridge and a Ukrainian song came to our ears. We thought that it was a matter of 3 or 4 rioters and we decided to take them captive. I drew the pistol and shot into the air. About 30 rioters, who had been hiding under the bridge, instantly surrounded us. They caught me and pushed me forcefully to the railing of the bridge.

I was almost lost. Suddenly I began to lecture them, that just yesterday or the day before yesterday, we were together, we fought hand in hand for the revolution, and how is it that now they come to murder a veteran revolutionary?

These words influenced them and they decided to free me. They were prepared to escort me home so that nothing bad would happen to me. I declined and began to run. I found Sukenik next to Yehoshua Finer's house. I went with him to the “Soviet” and called the “Battaria,” saying that we were in great danger. Immediately, four vehicles with soldiers armed with machine guns and light cannons appeared. We went to the bridge and opened heavy fire that lasted until dawn, but there were no wounded.

The next day we came to Kligerman's factory, the dwelling place of the “Etapanya Rota,” and wanted to open fire, but at the last moment we withdrew because we were afraid that some of the Jews would be killed.

The end of these rioters was hard and bitter. We separated them from their weapons, sent them under heavy guard to the prison in Novohrad Volynskyy, and there they came to an end.

However, pogroms against the Jews of Korets didn't stop with that yet. The Petliura gangs appeared in the city, but for reasons unknown to me, they left the city after a few days and did not harm anyone.

In their place other hooligans came - the Sokolovitzes, named after their hetman, Sokolovitz. They appeared in the fall of 1919. These murderers washed their hands with the blood of the Jews of Korets. They killed Moshe Wolkenstein, the step-son of Binyamin Wasserman, and they severely injured Naftali Katz.

Here we must memorialize the acts of bravery of two of the members of the self-defense force. At that time, a butcher by the name of Mordechai-Leib Reizelman lived in Korets. He had two sons: Chaim and David. One of the sons, seeing Katz wallowing in his blood - covered him with a blanket, picked him up, and brought him to their house. He ran to urgently summon Dr. Gerschenhorn, but the doctor was afraid to come out because the Sokolovitzes threatened death to anyone who offered help to a Jew. Chaim took Dr. Gerschenhorn forcefully and brought him to the injured man.

The hooligans announced that they would kill all the family members of anyone who hid a Bolshevik

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and burn down his house. Mordechai-Leib knew that he was in grave danger because Naftali Katz was a member of the Bolshevik “Soviet.” But he said, let the murderers do what they will do, and he would not turn Katz over to them to be killed.

The boys sharpened two large axes, stood by the door, and when they heard a knock, were prepared to cut off the head of the Sokolovitz who would try to break in.

Fear of these two heroes fell upon the hooligans and not one of them dared to come near the house.

In conclusion, one must say that no serious pogroms occurred in Korets because the youth stood guard and were always prepared to meet the rioters and evil doers.

This was in 1918. The Bolsheviks still camped in the city. From time to time, Polish and French airplanes would appear in the skies of the city, fly around for a few minutes, and disappear.

When the planes were seen, the Jews hurried to hide in the basements of the big synagogue and of the Korets fortress.

One clear day, several airplanes appeared, flew around for about 10 minutes, and began to drop bombs. The planes flew low and, upon seeing a great crowd breaking out of the basement of the synagogue, they began to fire on them and many were killed. I remember that Kaplan from the new city, the father of Asher-Motl; the wife of Aizikel Melamed and his children, and many other Jews whose names are not known to me, were among the killed. In particular, the death harvest hit the children.

After two or three days, the first brigade of Polish legionnaires, riding on horses, entered the city. Clerks and authority figures came with them and, together with the Poles, the local residents drove the remnants of the Bolsheviks out of the city.

The first activity of the legionnaires was to snatch Jews for work. They didn't recognize anyone, they grabbed everyone, and forced them to clean horse stables, courtyards, and to scrub floors. And then began the affair of abuse. They snatched Jews and plucked their beards. The main headquarters of these hooligans was in Gorenstein's house.

This wild situation lasted for about three months. The legionnaires left the city and, in their place, came an infantry battalion with the “Natshalnik Raiyona.” A municipal government was established, with a Polish man at its head, not of the people of Korets. The Jews managed to get some lawnik [=assesssor] into the municipal government, who still at the time

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of the Russians served as Starosta. His name was Leibush Krautopfsich. The regime became civilian, the merchants opened their businesses, and life in the city settled into its proper path.

This condition lasted until 1924. The government took on a democratic character and approached choosing a municipal government that would reflect the true power relationships in the city. The “burgmeister” who was chosen was, however, not from Korets, but his deputy was a Jew, Dr. Gerschenhorn. The Jewish “lawniks” were Binyamin Steilerman and Nachman Rachaman.

By the beginning of the thirties, the anti-semitism was already felt in the city and grew from day to day. Little by little, they pushed the Jews out of the municipal government and it became “Judenrein.”

In the first years of the Polish government, Avraham Sitner, a great expert in the municipal field and knowledgeable in matters of administration, served as secretary of the municipal government. He, too, was replaced by a Pole.

This was in 1900. In this year, Yossele Ha-Dayan died. Rav Michal'eh Koretser, of the Berezne rabbis, served as the city rabbi at the time. He had a son-in-law named Rav Pinchas'ele - a great Torah scholar, a very astute scholar, a genius both in the revealed and the hidden.

While Ha-Dayan was still on his death bed, preparing to entrust his soul to the Creator - Rav Michal'eh gathered his Hasidim and his close associates in his home and set his son-in-law, Rav Pinchas'ele, on the seat of the dying Dayan.

And the city was enraged. The whole community of Korets was in turmoil. The wealthy were insulted that Rav Michal'eh had not consulted them and decided to invite a rabbi from outside. They were decisive - they brought the genius rabbi, Rav Moshe-Mordechai Lidski zts”l, from Lithuania.

This act added fuel to the fire. Korets divided into two factions: supporters of Ha-Rav Lidski, on one side, and supporters of Ha-Rav Michal'eh, on the other side. On Ha-Rav Lidski's side stood the wealthy merchants of the city - Wolf Tuvavin, Yitzhak Weitman, Aizik Gurewitz, and the Solomianiks. On Rav Michal'eh's side stood the small shopkeepers and “Amcha” [=average people] “scissors and iron”. Between them were my father, Leib Charif, Efraim Kaminker, Akiva Gilman, Moshe-Ber Gilman, Aharon Shfercher, and Nissel Brezner.

The fire of the dispute took hold of the entire House of Israel in Korets. Each group set up its own bath house, separate ritual slaughter operations. They even collected for charity separately.

And the worst of it was - they forbade marriages between the two fighting camps.

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And when they were unable to separate the adherents, and the bride on one side threatened to throw herself into the water if they stole from her groom who belonged to the other side - the dispute became stronger: these said, Rav Michal'eh will arrange a marriage, and these said, no, no - Ha-Rav Lidski will say to accept the marriage.

The fire of the argument burned for about three years in Korets until finally the two sides reconciled. Rav Pinchas'ele was taken to serve as the rabbi in another city and Ha-Rav Lidski took the chair of the rabbinate in Korets and earned praise and honor from all the residents of the city.

Rav Wolf “Kulak”

I remember Rav Wolf's mother: a dwarf woman, poor and thin. She would sit in the market on a bench and her feet would sink in the mud and all her merchandise was on the bench: some beans, some lentils, and some seeds. All of the merchandise was worth, perhaps, forty kopecks and she maintained her life from this. Only in the month of Elul did her capital improve. She was “a zogerin” [=women's prayer leader] in the cemetery.

And fear of this old and dwarf woman was spread across her son, Rav Wolf, who was deathly afraid of her.

I have nothing to say about Rav Wolf except for his belly. In this regard, he was the one and only of his generation. Grandpa Mendele, may his merit protect us, wrote once that the Jewish belly grew like an olive and he prophesied that its end would be to disappear entirely and there would be a generation without a belly. Had the grandfather gotten “information” about Rav Wolf's belly, he would not have written words like these. I think that the Creator installed half a dozen bellies in Rav Wolf's body and they were grinding incessantly, alternately and in shifts: one fell asleep, immediately the next one woke up.

All his days, Rav Wolf had a complaint against Our Father in Heaven: the wealthy, to whom You gave the dew of the heavens and the fat of the earth, were blessed by Your hand with the tiny stomach of a bird and which immediately fills up, overflows its banks, and already needs castor oil, but I, Wolf, “a pauper in seven shreds” [=one for each day of the week, implying he has nothing], what did you see in me that you lifted me up and elevated me and made me different from all the Jews and honored me with a belly like an open grave in which an entire world sinks?

Rav Wolf's strength was in eating bread. I asked Rav Wolf once: you,

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without the evil eye, a tough Jewish man, what did the Tsar see that he let you out of the army? - Because I ate a lot of bread, he replied. Rav Wolf saw that I did not go deeper and he told me how things were: the Tsar, may his name be blotted out, would give out to his soldiers a “hunger portion” of 2 kilos of bread per day “and it was just one toothful.” I went about constantly hungry. I saw that I was “falling on my feet” and I began to steal bread from other soldiers until they caught me and prosecuted me. I said to the judicial officer: Judge, Sir, I am hungry. - And how much bread must you eat so that you are full? - If you give me 4 loaves, perhaps that would be enough. - And you should know, Rav Wolf added, that each loaf weighed 3 kilos.

The officer ordered his soldiers to bring the loaves of bread because he was sure that my belly would explode. I cut each loaf into four pieces “and I began putting it in.” The soldiers looked at me dumbstruck because, after a few moments, the table was “cleaned out” and no hint of bread remained.

- Nu, and are you full now? the judicial officer asked me. To tell the truth, “I still wanted a little teaspoon more,” but I was afraid to open my mouth. But he understood from the expression on my face that I was prepared to swallow more like this. “The gentleman” saw that “I'm chewing his head off.” He stood and released me from the army.

Rav Wolf loved to return to this story whenever he was asked for it. When he sat in the Beit Midrash, the youths would annoy him and ask: Rav Wolf, tell us how much bread you ate in the army? And Rav Wolf would tell calmly: They brought me one loaf and it was immediately consumed. Afterwards, they brought me a second and a third and, when I finished the last one, they treated me to a tub full of borscht that was enough, surely, for ten soldiers.

- Nu, and that already was enough for you?

- Afterwards, “I drowned myself with a small quart of water.” In Rav Wolf's “terminology,” a “quart” was a measure something like half a pail or more.

After he was released from the army and the hell of hunger burned in him night and day without an extinguisher, Rav Wolf became “the foremost in-law” at every wedding. The daughters of Korets were very beautiful and there was no lack, thank God, of weddings. And Rav Wolf had “dined” at four weddings in one night and in each place “cleaned out” the table and not as much as the size of an olive remained. On Saturday nights, when the Rav arranged a Melaveh Malkah [= evening ritual meal], Rav Wolf would take a “position” and honor his “extra soul” with everything good.

Rav Wolf's strength and courage were so great to the extent that, when he sneezed, he once caused a little boy to fall from the force of the air. And when he sighed on the street, they heard his voice on the next street.

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This popular Jew was, in his heart and in his soul, a good-hearted man who made a living from the work of his hands. He worked hard all his life in order to support his family. He gave a good Jewish education to his two beautiful daughters.

And his goodheartedness expressed itself, too, in his relationships with children. Even when they would harass him and try to make him angry, he never lifted a hand against a child and every response would be expressed with paternal scolding.

When the Korets “kadesh” grew and received the title of hospital, an elderly Polish doctor named Shafkovski worked there. His “partner” was Rav Luzer “Royfe,” who understood medicine like a chicken understands “humans.” In addition to his tremendous “expertise” in the wisdom of medicine, he was endowed with an important advantage that no one could be a doctor without: he was deaf in both ears.

Nevertheless, our mothers believed in him completely. When a child began to cough, they immediately summoned Rav Luzer. The women were already familiar with the names of the syrups that were good for coughs. Here is a conversation between one of them and Rav Luzer:

- Rav Luzer, perhaps we should give the child “Altay” syrup?

- “Not bad.” Certainly you could give that.

- Rav Luzer, perhaps we should give the child “Sanaga” syrup to drink?

- That is even better. But there is a question of taste. There are children who like “Altay” and there are children who like “Sanaga.”

- Rav Luzer, “Perhaps give a few shovels of syrup.”

- Excellent! Excellent! That's what one should do.

- Rav Luzer, perhaps we should have the doctor come to the child?

- Here, here, that's it exactly what I wanted to advise you.

And Rav Luzer took 10 kopecks' fee for professional services and rushed to another sick person.

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Yossel the Crazy

Yossel was born missing a part of his head. An existence known to you - crazy from birth. His build was strong, thick-boned, and the entire city was afraid of him.

But there were times when he was sane and then he would build lovely houses in the city. But, when the insanity hit him, he would immediately destroy what he had built.

They say about him that, when he was young, they would bind him with chains when the insanity took hold of him and then, to the astonishment of all the residents of the city, he would cross over the barrier of the bridge that was over the Kortchek and not fall into the water.

And he was endowed with a wonderful memory. Once, at one of the fairs, he appeared in the market, took off all his clothes, arranged them in a bundle, and put them on one of the carts that passed nearby without knowing the cart owner. Nevertheless, when he returned and recovered, he went to that farmer and asked him for his clothes. And the gentiles knew that it was forbidden to touch Yossel's clothes because, when he recovered, he would come and sue them.

Still, all these happenings are nothing compared to the terrible thing that Yossel the Crazy did. It was 55 years ago on the second day of Passover. Next to Korets was a neighborhood called “Fians” where only gentiles lived. Yossel entered a few houses, took down the icons of their “Messiah” and “The Holy Mother,” and brought them … nu, guess please, to where? Even if you had a thousand heads, you wouldn't be able to guess. Too bad for your trouble, therefore, I will tell you: he brought them and stood them up next to the entrance to Rav Michal'eh's Beit Midrash! …

Rav Michal'eh came out and almost died. Oh no! An idol in the temple! This “Jesus” next to the holy shul! And Yossel is prepared to make a wave of bones from the Rav. “Rabbi, go into the Beit Midrash, and no, you are a god, I will soon hang an idol on your heart.”

The Jews of the city looked at this horrible play and were afraid to come near. The icons stayed until the time of Minchah prayers. The rabbi summoned the “beaters group.” “Frum-Moshe” Kaminker from Komisaria Street, Pesach Krupnik and his two sons, to whom another minyan of Jews came, and with combined forces, they “weakened” Yossel to take the icons. What's interesting in the matter is that Yossel returned each icon to its gentile…

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Chaim-Srulyeh - “The Nikolaevsker Soldier”

When I was a boy of Bar-Mitzvah age, Chaim-Srulyeh was already over 80 years old. He had been a guard at Zvi Solomianik's factory for hides. As was customary at the time, the owner built him a small house in the courtyard of the factory and R. Srulyeh would go about night and day with a long pole in his hand and guard the possessions of his bosses.

Solomianik had an abundance of sons, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren whose number came to a hundred. On the night of “the Seder,” this entire “baggage” got together at the home of the head of the family.

Once, before the beginning of “the Seder,” Solomianik said, did you know, my children, what came to my mind? I want to see how Chaim-Srulyeh organizes “the Seder.”

He was decisive. Solomianik saw that Chaim-Srulyeh read in the “Haggadah,” as all the Jews read, but when he got to the passage, “the simple son, what does he say?,” he began to slam his fists into his face and broke out in bitter crying.

The rich man and his sons came back without knowing the meaning of this. The next day, after the services in the synagogue, which they called “The Garbarske Shul,” were over, the workers came to bless the owner with “Chag Sameach.” This one says, a good holiday to you, R. master and this one says - a good holiday to you, owner. Chaim-Srulyeh came, too, but because he was a submissive slave eight times over, he bowed and said: A good holiday to you, R. gentleman!

Solomianik said to him: Chaim-Srulyeh, wait, I have a matter with you. Last night, I heard you read in the “Haggadah” and why, when you got to “the simple son, what does he say?,” you shouted like that?

Chaim-Srulyeh looked at him and said: Master gentleman, you did not understand me. Now listen and understand: “This is so me, but “simple”, oy va-voy, “the simple son, what does he say?” What would the “One Above” say there? …

Solomaniak enjoyed the wisdom of his worker and went to eat the holiday feast.

R. Yossel was of the “gentlemen” of the city. A rich Jew, owner of a large store for manufacture that stood in the market next to the “Trisker enclave.” Out of fear of thieves, he would sleep in his store, which was locked from within with dozens of locks, bolts, and hidden keys. And yet, he did not trust himself and it always seemed to him that he had not closed up the store as he should have.

One evening, he sat in his store when the “tilip” [=fur coat] that was covering only one sleeve

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fell off and he began to fall asleep. When he began to get undressed, he asked himself: I locked the store or did I not lock the store? Getting up from bed, he said to himself: Apparently it's locked and he returned to his place. However, he immediately said again: Perhaps I did not lock it. He walked ten steps and decided: How is it possible that the store is not locked. It is certainly locked. He hung up the “tilip” and said: After all, I'm only human. It's possible that I, in truth, did not lock it. He got up from bed and said: Yossel, what's with you that you didn't lock the store? He began to remove his boots and, while one foot still remained hanging in the air, he thought and said: If the thought that the store is not locked entered my head, it's possible that it is, in truth, not locked. He went a few steps and said: Yes, I'm old, but I'm not a fool, that Yossel would not lock his store? And he went back to bed.

He got undressed down to the “tallit katan” and said to himself: I could be a fool or maybe I'm not a fool, but it's possible that the store is, in truth, not locked. When he was barefoot and half naked, he got up and inspected all the locks and all the bolts and all the keys and finally sighed and said: Damn! Let it be that I didn't lock it. Then R. Yossel went back to bed, aware that the door, nonetheless, was not locked …

The next story that they tell about R. Yossel overshadows everything that they said about him. Yossel had a son-in-law - Hirschel Lifschitz. Once, on a Friday, because of a breakdown of the cart, he entered the city after candle lighting. R. Yossel sits completely locked in with seven bolts and sits down to his Sabbath meal. Suddenly knocking on the door is heard. “Who's there?” R. Yossel asks. - Me, Hirschel, your son-in-law. “And what's your wife's name?” - Batya, Hirschel answers. “What's the novelty in it? Doesn't all of Korets know that I have a daughter named Batya and a son-in-law named Hirschel? That's a known thing, even to thieves and swindlers. Then what? Bless the wine and maybe I will know you by your voice.” The son-in-law stood there and blessed the wine. “The voice is, certainly, the voice of Hirschel, my son-in-law, but who knows? All manner of “comedians” swarm through the city, clowns who imitate people's voices, and maybe you are one of them?”

Despite all of these signs, you have still not proven that you are Hirschel, my son-in-law - go, Jew, to the inn and sleep there. And if it turns out that you are, indeed, my son-in-law - I will pay for your night's lodging. Poor Hirschel took himself off and slept at the inn …

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At the end of World War I, the winds of freedom began to blow. The revolution broke out and it gave the Jews the possibility to organize their own institutions. And in this way, the communities of Volhyn came back to life.

Here, too, in Korets, we had municipal elections. I belonged to “Poale- Tzion” and the party elected to the municipal committee the following members: Leible Ocher, Motek Finklestein, Izzie Kaminer, Osher Tobin, Zeidle Fifer and Isaac Himenis. The seventh, I believe, was Jacob Rice, the son of Alter the bookbinder.

In the first Jewish community, Rabbi Nehemiah Herschenson, Rabbi Litzky, Judge Avigdor, Meir, Rabbi Isser's son, Dr. Yanyeh Gerschenhorn, Isaac Horowitz and Yizchak Whiteman were also elected.

A view of Korets

Unfortunately, this era of freedom did not last long. Various groups of Ukrainian bands of hooligans began to appear and the situation became very cloudy for the Jews of the Ukraine. In Korets, The Petlyura gang of murderers came in. The city turned to darkness, people were afraid to go out into the streets. Stores closed, and very soon thereafter, two Jews fell victim and were killed. The first one was Hersh—Wolf, the tailor's son. I don't remember the name of the second one, his nickname was Hanchik.

The Jewish community was powerless. We didn't know what to do. Day by day the situation deteriorated. A sergeant in the Petlyura army was billeted in Dudek Feldman's house. He gave Dudek an idea, that the Jewish community should supply bread, boots and underwear for his squad and he would take care that the Jewish people would not be bothered. We went along with his idea – – we took bread from the Zhitomir bakery and underwear from Aaron Shmuel Shteindle (Dobeh the stovemaker's son) and brought it to the sergeant as a gift.

One fine morning, we heard a lot of shooting. We went outside and saw that the Red Army had entered the city. The Petlyura army had retreated without any resistance. All of us gave a sigh of relief and ent out into the streets.

The next day, the Bolsheviks ordered a meeting in David Girschfeld's Hall and everyone had to attend. The hall quickly filled up. An officer of the Red Army gave a fired up speech, indicating that from here on we will have real freedom.

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At the end of his speech he asked that three people be chosen to organize the “Revcom” [Revolutionary committee} which will perform the business of the city.

A Gentile by the name of Gremmer, was chosen. He worked in Hersh Salamanyek's tannery and was the chairman of the Tanner's Union. The second one chosen was Moisheh Volkenstein, he had just arrived from America. Since he was oriented to the left, he came to Russia in order to help build the revolution. The third chosen was myself. I said that they should remove my name as a candidate. However the Red Army officer interjected at this point. He stamped his foot vigorously and yelled out: “those people that refuse to serve the revolution, we stand up against the wall, that is, we shoot them.” After that outburst, understandably, I turned hot and cold, and relented, and indicated that I agreed to faithfully serve the people.

The Revcom opened an office in Yudel Finer's house. We hired a secretary and began to do the business of the city. We applied to the upper echelon in Zvahill for money with which to do our work. They answered us, that there was no money, and that we should assess a tax on the wealthy people of Korets. Understandably, some very sad scenes ensued. Some of the Jews came into the office and pleaded their tax should be reduced. But nothing helped – – they had to pay.

I took upon myself the office of social security. I knew very well, that there were many poor people in Korets, and I gave the order to the bakeries that bread should be supplied to the poor of the population. Whenever someone became sick, and needed a doctor, I gave him a ticket to Dr.Zeitlin or to Dr. Y Hirshenhorn. And the same, with medicines. The pharmacists gave medicines on my prescription.

One fine morning Leibke Gerstein and Leibush Krautman entered our office, which was located in Isaac Horowitz's building and confided to us the following secret: when the Petlyuras occupied Korets, there was, among them, an officer who was a Christian, from Korets, by name of

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Garris. He did not want to serve with them, because he did not agree with their murderous methods. And when the Petlyuras retreated from Korets, he hid out and remained in the city. Now he is applying to us for a certificate indicating that Gerris is a responsible person, so that he can obtain his freedom. Gremmer and I were for it, but Moisheh Volkenstein was against it. He said that you must not believe a dog, but we did not agree, and it turned out well, as you shall soon see.

The regime of the Bolsheviks in Korets lasted from after Passover until the high holy days in the year 1918. A band under the name of “Sokolovtses” was organized in our area. They entered Zvahill and enacted a horrible pogrom there. Our police clashed with these bandits a few days prior totheir entering Korets. The guards would station themselves at all four corners of the city – – by the power plant, at the ramparts, at the crockery factory and at the zhidkivkeh (?) In order to show the murderers how to enter the city.

We heard the shooting begin at 12 o'clock at night – –the Sokolovtses had entered the city. They and our police attacked the building of Isaac Horowitz where our offices were located, and we were shooting from all sides. In that battle Moisheh Volkenstein and a sailor were killed. Naphtali Katz (Chaim Katz's son) jumped out of a window and was injured in both feet, he crawled to a house that was close to St. Michael's church and there he received instant attention. This same night I left and hid at Michleh Richkeh's house, on the second story, Moisheh Gildenman's mother.

On the second day, the bandits went to Gerris's house and forced him, against his will, to become the mayor of the city. He was forced to accept this office, because none of the other bandits were able to read and write.

Here, at last, the goodness of Garris was shown: when my brother was arrested, Garris said, “ nothing bad will happen to your brother or to the Jewish people of Korets in general, so long as my head remains on my body”, because he will never forget the favor that I bestowed upon him

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when I gave him a certificate indicating that he was a fine man. And that's the way it was: they freed my brother and there were no more casualties among the Korets Jews. And that is how Korets was saved by me, indirectly. Goodness pays off, as King Solomon said, “Cast thy bread upon the waters, and it will return to you, in future days.”

After World War I, when the Red Army marched into Moscow and declared a workers government, certain dark elements were found that did not wish to go along with the new government, and indeed, immediately, various generals arose and organized groups of soldiers, with which they thought they would defeat the Red Army.

Those murderous groups, such as Denikins Guards, Koltzak's Bands and the infamous Petllyura, the murderer of many thousands of Jews.

Our brother Jews, as usual, looked to save their lives, and they began to wander from one shtetl to another, believing that they would be more safe there.

And indeed, our town Korets, that lies on the main highway, Moscow to Rovneh, quickly filled up with refugees, the majority of which came from Zvahill (Novograd –Volinsk}.

The refugees brought with them the terrible news of the murderers, that they were killing young and old. A restlesness enveloped all the residents, merely thinking of what, God forbid, could happen to them.

And indeed at that time, there were found people that suggested organizing a self-defense organization of armed Jews, where 100 men would be on call every night.

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There was no shortage of weapons in our town. In our house alone there was a warehouse of arms from the 30 battalions of Russians, that when they left, they abandoned guns and ammunition, that was sufficient to arm a whole Battalion.

After several meetings, we organized a self-defense organization of Jews, and since there were Gentiles living in the city as well, we informed them that they must remain quiet and not help the enemy.

This was a time when the city was left powerless. The red Army had left and the Polish Army had not yet arrived. I recall a situation when the red Army was leaving our town. At the only bridge, which was wooden, they placed barrels of tar and kerosene and lit them, in order to prevent the enemy from transporting heavy equipment across the bridge.

Then our forces began shooting from all sides and drew the attention of various groups. In the meantime several people rolled the burning barrels into the water. Our only bridge was saved.

With the arrival of the Polish military, the functions of the self-defense organization ended.

The Jewish self-defense organization of Korets was a symbol of Jewish strength and self preservation, which enveloped the Jewish youth in dozens of towns and shtetlech in the realm of the Ukraine and White Russia. It arose spontaneously and served in the defense and preservation of Jewish life and property. This youth also served the national freedom movement which found its expression in the formation of the Zionist movement in the city which had unified itself in Jewish strength and the spirit of freedom.

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The elderly woman Hinda Kligerman (Hinda Zlata Dubas)

Yehusua Bublick's store, which sold gunpowder and explosives, stood on “Shasiene? Street.” The fire reached the store, and in an instant, a terrible smoke burst out of it and covered the city's sky. Although it was 10 o'clock in the morning, it seemed to us that the sun had set. Many people suffocated from the smoke. Those who could – fled to the river, but the fire was so great, and its sparks reached the riverbank. I remember very well, that in a moment, the city turned into a huge blazing fire. A sea of flames raged all day, and tongues of fire protruded from the windows of the meager houses, which disappeared from the face of the earth one after the other. It seemed, as if the sky was burning, the clouds were red, gripped with fire.

About 20 Jews were burnt alive. David Mekler's two daughters, the “girl brides,” who had grooms and were about to get married – burnt, and not a trace remained of them. Only the remains of their dresses were found. Pesia Rivka's was also burnt, and also many other Jews whose names I don't remember.

All Batei Hamidrash were burnt in this fire. The “Great Synagogue,” “Brezner Synagogue,” “Chernobler Synagogue,” “Shuster Synagogue,” and “Schneider Synagogue,” went up in flames. From the whole city only Commissaria Street and “below the mills” Street remained. A few buildings remained in Monstriska Street, but all the synagogues in it were burnt. Hirshel Solomianik and Shmuel Kleinfeld tanneries were located in “below the mills” Street. These buildings, and also the homes of Weinstock and Broder, were saved from the fire.

There wasn't a fire brigade. There was a wagon with a barrel of water on it, and it was harnessed to the “Messiah horse.” A wheel broke by the time the horse moved, and everyone grabbed a bucket of water

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to put out the fire, and of course, it helped, “like cupping-glasses for a dead man” [it was a wasted effort]. Go and put out such a calamity that all the water in the Kortchek couldn't put out.

A well stood in the middle of the market. We threw inside it the scorched Torah Scrolls, scraps of clothing, and tools that were saved from the fire. But, it was pointless. The Gentiles from the surrounding area descended on the booty, and looted and robbed all that was left from the Jews' property.

The Jews, who were left homeless, fled to Zvhil, Rovne and Slovita. We fled to Ostroh.

The fire cast a lot of noise all over Wolyn. The very next day helped arrived with food and clothing from cities and villages far and near.

Slowly, the city was rebuilt. Batei Hamidrash were built, and streets started to emerge as if by magic. The city grew and expanded and erased the memory of the terrible fire, which even today is attacking me with terror when I remember it.

In “Ha-Meliz” [Hebrew newspaper in Russia], from 1881 (No. 25), we find the following report about the fire: “On 2 Tamuz, 17 June, a fire broke out in a small house at the edge of town, and one hour later, a great storm raged and carried flaming torches in every direction and corner. In three hours almost the whole city went up in flames.

All the shops and their merchandise, and all the delightful treasures were burnt, consumed by fire. Several hundred families were left naked and destitute. The flames ate all the synagogues – thirteen in number, including the ancient synagogue. Also, about 20 people were burnt, including two sisters and one little boy.

The notable masters from here, the brothers Wineshtock, infused a lot of money to ease the fate of the fire victims.”

[Page 99]

With trembling, silence, and a sense of holiness, I have come to pay honor and respect to our native city, which was known in praise and glory. In the heart of every one of us, the city awakens wonderful memories, interesting experiences, and longing for the lovely life that was and is no more.

One of the strongest experiences that are well-engraved on my heart was my visit to the many Batei Midrash that made their mark on the unique style of the city.

Korets had an abundance of Batei Midrash. The yeshiva boys and the grand, diligent Torah scholars, who never stopped learning, guarded the embers of Torah day and night.

Korets was one of the strongholds of the Torah of Israel in the Polish diaspora, about whom the poet sang: “There are still hidden cities in the diaspora in which our old candle secretly smokes.” The prayer houses were “mikdash me'at” [=places of spiritual importance] for the Jews of the city. Here our ancestors spent their free time, here they lived their spiritual lives, here they came in contact with the unending sources of Judaism.

Residents of the city would enter the Batei Midrash both in times of difficulty and in times of joy. All the heads of the city and its activists would come for advice, how to end this or that calamity. In this holy place, the Jew would recount his distress, put aside his worries, and be relieved.

And if our souls could know the souls of the Jews of Korets - we will head toward the 18 Batei Midrash. There we will reveal the spirit of our parents in its purity. Due to the distance of time, the details of the life that existed in these synagogues were erased from the tablets of my memory and I have only the names and the composition of those who prayed in them: nonetheless, even this alone is a faithful reflection of the religious life of our city.

Die Groisse Shul [=the big synagogue] - here the heads of the community and all kinds of “distinguished people” prayed.

Das Kehalische Shulchen [=the small community synagogue] - the Beit Midrash of porters and carriage owners.

Beit Ha-Midrash Ha-Gadol [=the large Beit Midrash] - most of the wealthy and the wholesalers prayed here.

Rav Asher'eh's Shul [=Rav Asher's synagogue] - merchants and dealers.

Kovilinski Shul [=the synagogue of Kovilinski] - distinguished people and heads of the community. The “gentlemen” of the city.

Das Rebbe's Shulchen [=the rebbe's small synagogue] - the old Beit Midrash of Ha-Rav Srulyeh Neiterman.

Trisker Enclave - those who prayed here were among the wealthy of the city.

Makarever Enclave - the Hasidim of Makarev prayed here.

Chernoviler Enclave - the Hasidim of the Tzaddik of Chernovil [=Chornobyl].

[Page 100]

Skverer Shul - the synagogue of the Hasidim of Rabbi Aharon of Skver [=Skvira], son of the Rabbi of Trisk.

Uliker Shulchen [=small synagogue of Ulik] - milliners prayed here.

Klei-Zemer Shulchen [=small synagogue of the musicians] - those skilled in music prayed here.

Shuster Shul [=shoemakers' synagogue] - the Beit Midrash of the shoemakers' organization.

Schneider Shul [=tailors' synagogue] - of the tailors.

Garbarske Shul - the synagogue of the tanners.

Hornshtein's Shul - the synagogue of Yaakov Hornstein, where the residents of “behind the mills” prayed.

Die “Yeshiva” Shul [=the synagogue of the Yeshiva] - here the great scholars prayed along with the head of the Yeshiva, R. Yoel Schorin zatsa”l.

R. Michal'eh's Shul [=the synagogue of R. Michael'eh] - here the Hasidim of Berezne, the supporters of Ha-Rav Michal'eh zatsa”l, prayed.

R. Yankel's Shul [=the synagogue of R. Yankel]- here all the Hasidim who were refugees from Zhvil [=Novohrad Volynskyy] prayed.

From this list, we learn an important and interesting chapter in the sociology of the Jews of the city. The class wars made their mark in the area of Torah and prayer, too, the rich and the poor prayed separately. And the split was seen within the class, too. The wealthy did not pray in a group with the “gentlemen” and the shoemakers did not come together with the tailors, rather each group prayed in their own Beit Midrash. The reason for this was in the fact that the Batei Midrash served as clubhouses and the hand of Hasidism was in it, too, as each stream of Hasidism was entitled to its own Beit Midrash. This is only one drop of the water of division in which the Jewish communities in Poland distinguished themselves.

There are no more worshippers in Korets. The Batei Midrash have become ashes. The letters of the Torah parchment floated away along with the souls of the learners and scholars. The devil did not differentiate between one Beit Midrash and another - he slaughtered them and had no pity.

Translator's footnote:

1. Houses of Learning Return

[Page 101]

It was already early in the morning when the people in the city began to notice the preparations for the welcoming of the awesome holy Yom Kippur. Businesses were closed and the whole busy neighborhood – the business district – seemed as though it had died. The lowering of the iron gates, signaled to the Christian population, that today everything is closed.

Dozens of Jews are hurrying to the study halls, and from there – to make their final preparations. The spirit of Erev Yom Kippur dominates the Jewish streets and spills over, even into the neighboring Christian areas. Everything and everybody is filled with the fearsome holiness, the masses are preparing for judgment day.

After the customary giving of charitable donations, the Jews felt the holy debt of forgiveness for neighbors and relatives. And in this way they overthrew the heavy yoke they carried upon themselves, the year round. An enthusiastic “Shalom Aleichem” and new year wishes for good luck reunited brother Jews in the little shtetlech and the fearsome mood of the eve of the day of judgment enveloped them with hope and expectations for a good year for all of the Children of Israel.

At the river's bank, on a hill, attracting attention from all the neighborhood, proudly stood Rabbi Yaacob-Yossi Horenshtein”s synagogue. It gave the impression as though the security of the whole neighborhood lay in her hands, in spite of the fact, that the Polish Cathedral, located not far from Horenshtein's synagogue, stood tall and architecturally perfect; the modest, but also very fine looking Horenshtein's shul, demanded respect and honor from all the population. The synagogue, drenched in a sea of greenery and trees, spoke of its worthiness, and was well able to accept the prayers of the congregation of Jews, that had cleansed themselves for the day of judgment.

The way to the synagogue led through Christian streets and their children greeted the Jews on their way to prayers with unfriendly glances. From off in the distance the synagogue came into sight in all her glory, lit up with many lamps and candles.

[Page 102]

The last rays of the setting sun greeted the worshipers to “Kol Nidre”.

In the synagogue the Jews sat, wrapped in their clean white robes, which were the very symbol of cleansing the soul. At the Holy Ark stands Reb Shmulik reciting the last preambles to “Kol Nidre”. Surrounding him, at the eastern wall, sit the honored Jews with white beards and deeply lined faces, which bear witness to their life struggles of the past years. They prepare to isolate themselves from their surroundings for one day, in order to unite with the heavenly world and to pray with fervor to the creator of the world, He should grant a year of health and sustenance for all the people of Israel.

A clap on the table that holds the Torah, quiets everything down, and in this stillness, you can hear the hearts thumping of all the congregation, whose fervor and prayer are directed to the “One and Only”. The voice of the cantor: “In accordance with this venue and with the permission of the congregation”, the stillness is broken and the people's voices blend into a prayerful choir. We children, too, rooted in our places by our parents, are affected by the holy words and repeat the cantor's prayer.

After the sexton, Reb Itzik announces the time for the beginning of prayers on the following day, the Jews begin to leave the synagogue. The streets begin to fill with white clad men, all wishing each other a happy new year, and then go to rest, in order to be able to proceed with the prayers in the course of the following day. Several dozen of the Jews remain in the synagogue and repeat the Book of Psalms until midnight.

More than one of us, under the influence of the very awe of the Yom Kippur spirit, repeat the prayers silently and in our dreams see Abraham Isaac and Jacob pleading for mercy for the children of Israel, and see good Angels bearing good news in their flight.
The first rays of the morning sun interrupted this beautiful dream and drove us back to Yaacov-Yossi Horenshtein”s synagogue, to sit through the prayers and receive the positive seal.

Full of fear and happiness, hope and faith, that The Great God, in his infinite mercy, has forgiven all of our sins – and has awakened courage and strength in the congregation of Jews, in order to be able to carry on the heavy burden of earning a living in the coming year.

[Page 103]

Regarding the poor people that used to wander through the streets of Korets – nobody knew their biography, and I do believe that nobody was interested in knowing , who they were, where they came from, and where they were going.

I was still a little boy, and I believe I knew a majority of these street people. I knew their faces, I knew them by their appearances, I knew the way they walked, and the way they looked. Aside from the fact that I always met them in the street, knocking on doors, I often saw them in the study hall, in Reb Osher's little synagogue and in the Makarever study hall. I really saw most of them in Reb Osher's little synagogue where I used to go to pray every morning at the time, when we lived in Reb Chaim the Cantor's alcove, and the Cantor's house was located in back of the little synagogue. There were always quite a few poor people in the little synagogue, they used to sit on the long bench next to the big stove in order to warm their old broken bones. Seldom would one of them open a prayer book and study. When there were fewer of the poor people and there was room on the bench, some of the elderly of the synagogue, would sit down," to catch a little warmth" , and warm-up the blood a little bit by the stove, and even the younger people would also take advantage of this pleasure. However, when the wall by the stove was completely occupied with the “visitors”, nobody would offend them. Jews, old and young – did not interfere with these poor people-- but prayed and studied at the lecterns, and the warmest place, the place by the stove's wall, the eastern wall, was left for them – to those that had not their own nook and cranny or four corners in which to warm up. The Jews did not look upon them, just with pity, but with a somber look of guilt. But then, what was there to be done? This is the way of the world. One helps them, as much as one could. There wasn't one household without a guest for the Sabbath, and very often, during the week, too.

In spite of it all, I couldn't help wondering: where do these homeless

[Page 104]

Jews spend their time., these wandering Jews, after dragging themselves from house to house? There is the shul, the study hall, the old Reb Osher's little synagogue, the only place where they can warm up their broken old bones, their tired bodies. I somehow felt, that being poor, and homeless, without a table to call your own, is very hard work Going house to house, with an outstretched hand, day in, day out, pleading and begging and always holding that charity coin in hand – this downtrodden embarrassment, I often thought, hangs over them like a dark cloud. It leads them and follows them, and they can never get relief from this pressure.

I can still see them before me, these poor people, and when I sometimes try to bring back memories of home, they are the ones that come back to me, first. I see them descending the steps of Reb Osher's synagogue. They come out in bunches, and little by little, they separate in twos and threes, and finally go off by themselves. They certainly did not make plans to not go to the same places. I do believe, that intuitively, they had already divided the city into territories, where one would not encroach upon the other. When on occasion, it did happen, and one of them did see another, off in the distance, knocking on a door, he would be embarrassed, and go off in another direction, not to see the other for the rest of the day.

Oftentimes, wandering off in a little side street, in childish thought,, and suddenly, coming upon a poor man sitting on a log of a garden fence, eating something, hiding his mouth with his hand. Although I was still a little boy, the poor man was embarrassed,, and turned his head aside so that I would not see that he was eating in the street. I understood the situation, very well, and quickly left the scene. However, I couldn't resist, and soon returned: to see what the poor man was doing. It didn't even take three minutes, it seemed to me, and the man was already gone. The place on the log was empty. I could not understand why such poor elderly people had no place to sit down and eat, and how is it possible, in general, that a person should loiter

[Page 105]

around the world without a little corner to call his own home. Many a night I lay awake, thinking of this.

In Korets there was a “poor house” where the poor people would spend the night. It was located at the side of the synagogue Street, where it was in close proximity to the houses of prayer and study halls. However not all the poor people wanted to spend the night in the poor house. Why, I don't know. There was a time when the poor house was too crowded and there really was not enough room for all the poor people that remained in the city for any length of time. They spoke of these people from far away places, that did not want to even cross the threshold of the poor house and would prefer to spend the night somewhere outside, on a bridge, in a shed, in a room in a slum. They were called squatters. As a youngster I strayed into the poor house a few times, and fearfully I squirmed into the long and narrow hallway. There were several rooms where sick people were lying in the beds and all of them on high pillows at their heads. I saw there, bent over elderly Jews, bent over like canes with crooked handles. Their hands drooped, as though they were broken, over their hearts and Jewish women piled up in heavy, long dresses and with many dark kerchiefs and headscarves covering their heads. They scraped along the walls and looked at me with staring eyes. I began to be a little afraid and wanted to get out of there quickly.

Through a crack in a partly open door, in a small room, I saw an old man sitting at a table, a silvery white oldster pouring over an open prayer book. Around him, on the table, there were many other books. For a moment, I was left motionless, staring intently at this white-haired elderly man that was sitting bent over the prayer book as though congealed in his bent over shape. He did not move, not a single sway of his head, not here nor there, and took no notice of me.

In the synagogue, I had never seen two beggars, sitting on the long bench, and perhaps resting from there after a long day of going house to house, speaking to each other. I got the impression that they were constantly angry at each other. A pigeon like murmur was once heard from one of them,

[Page 106]

and the other one immediately understood what he meant. He immediately opened his tobacco pouch, unlaced it, and showed him that it was empty, or almost empty, and the other fellow, again murmured something, but this time, more to himself, and had nothing more to say to his “friend”, and was angry with himself, for his own bad luck.

From childhood on I could not understand – – and almost don't understand to this day, the secret on which the lives of these people is based, and how all these tattered lives rolled off and away from being whole, from the chain that holds all people, poor and not so poor, or rich, in one community. It is not for nothing that all these stories and legends are manufactured about these poor and lonesome people, because life itself, and their dragging themselves around the world, not here nor there. Regarding all of these stories, legends and narratives, there hovers over them, it seems to me, the spirit and the good and gentle suspicion, that these people, torn from the community at large, that they themselves, with their own hands, have purposefully chosen their own misfortune. Something private and undercover, accompanies them and follows them constantly. They have not accepted the fundamental law of life, and they have turned their back on it. If it is indeed so, and if in this legend there is concealed a kernel of truth, then they are strong personalities and have indeed been chosen by God to be masters of their fate.

[Pages 107-108]

Until my immigration to Eretz Yisrael in 1913, Korets did not know the phenomenon of a young man rising up and realizing the Zionist theory in practice. Although my uncle, Moshe Blubstein (now Dafna), preceded me, but, first, it was forgotten that he immigrated nine years before me and, second, he did not immigrate directly to Eretz Yisrael, but left from Korets to Galicia and from there came to Eretz Yisrael.

Historically, I was the first young man from Korets to immigrate to Eretz Yisrael, and it made a very big impression on all the city's Jews. For this reason they decided to make a big “fuss,” as fitting for the first pioneer.

They decided to hold a farewell party for me – “banquet” in a foreign language. Among the main invitees was my friend, the poet Meir Czudner, who moved heaven and earth that the party would be held in his apartment.

All the youth activists in the city, more than a hundred people, gathered and came to Czudne's modest apartment. They did not forget, of course, to invite the elders of the Zionists in the city, R' Aharon Perelmuter and R' Yakov Freirman. The party was directed by Yosef Zatzar and he was also the main speaker.

The poet, Meir Czudner, and his young woman, Nechama Yeshivah–Bechur, presented Hebrew skits and Sheraga Zavdi recited a poem that was published in “Hapoel Hatzair” of that week.

I bring only the first stanza:

“The brothers, who work on the mountains of Israel, bless you, bless you.
A blessing from a distant brother, lost and remote. Miserable, helpless and full of longing.
From the desert of the black and narrow Diaspora. From the land of blood, bereaved and foreign.”

In my speech I said among others: I congratulate my friends, and all of us, that soon there will be times when immigration will cease to be a rare phenomenon, and we won't have to hold banquets for those who immigrate. Yosef Zatzar replied jokingly: but they will hold a banquet for me…

The party included a meal, speeches, games, dances, and ended with organized sailing on the river. That night no one slept. The banquet opened at nine in the evening and ended at eight in the morning.

At the same party, a very beautiful young woman participated. She was not one of the young women of our city. She settled in Korets about a year before my immigration to Israel. By chance, her last name was also Schwartzman, but she was not a relative of mine. She worked at the photographer's studio in Korets and knew me from the many pictures my friends had taken of me before my immigration to Israel.

The name of this girl is related to an experience that I would never forget. When we sailed on the river she sat next to me and constantly sang a lyric song in Yiddish: “Es benket zikh nokh ahaym”^[1] [“We Long for a Home”]. These were the longings of a young Jewish woman for Zion, for the distant homeland.

This song echoed in my ears all the days of my journey from Odessa to Jaffa.

Translator's footnote

1. https://www.ushmm.org/exhibition/music/detail.php?content=home Return

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