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From the top right: Tsvi Milstein, Zushe Brik, Yesheya Frayvald, Izi Holtz, Nusi Reis, unknown, Itsi Holtz, Samush Zeidler
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[Pages 191-195]
Memories of the Hashomer Hatza-ir Movement
By Leah Ring (Teichman)
I was only a little girl, and I could not understand why the students, friends of my brother Motyo and my sister Blimeh, came to our house night after night to sing and converse. My parents did not know the topics of their discussions, and perhaps even closed their ears deliberately.
These were the first meetings of the Hashomer movement, which was illegal and had no hall in which to hold its activities.
The gymnasium authorities investigated these activities assiduously. I remember how a mysterious figure appeared in our yard one winter evening, came up to the lit window and, after a while, went away. The next day everything was cleared up. One by one, everyone who had attended the meeting was called into the office of the gymnasium principal, Lambert, for the sin of belonging to the Zionist organization Hashomer. Of course, my brother and sister came home late from school that day. The lots were cast and the decree issued: all of the boys and girls who had participated in the meeting were expelled from the gymnasium.
After certain influential parents intervened and accepted responsibility, and with the help of a great deal of money, which went toward the establishment of the gymnasium library then in its inception, the punishment was nullified.
A few years later, we began to see groups of Shomrim in full uniform, hiking around on the outskirts of town. A Hebrew song was on their lips, as well as many words of Hebrew speech. Publicity events were organized, related to various festivals and occurrences in the Land of Israel.
Most of our actions were based upon a clear worldview. We believed absolutely in our clandestine and socialist-oriented Zionism. It gave us the strength to stand strong in the face of the many humiliations suffered by our Hashomer chapter.
Throughout the year, we would assemble on Wednesdays in our Shomer “local” (our meetinghouse,) which was usually located in the poor Jewish neighborhoods, where the craftsmen, market vendors, and day laborers lived. (This was where the Rohatyn ghetto was later established.) These neighborhoods, far away from the Gentile quarters, became thickly muddy whenever it rained. They answered our need to be hidden from Gentile eyes, and the investigation of the school authorities.
Here, without anxiety, we could sing the Hebrew songs that came to us from Israel, and dance and rejoice without fear. We were among “our people.”
The locals were certainly suspicious of us, these children, boys and girls keeping company “without supervision.” More than once the door opened suddenly, and a prying neighborhood man or women would stare at us through inquiring eyes. They did not understand that the raucousness that rang out from the “local” issued out of the purity and innocence of our youth. Only a few members of the chapter were fortunate enough to receive their parents' patient support. Most fought fiercely with their parents, and their participation in the chapter was for the most part secretive.
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From the top right: Tsvi Milstein, Zushe Brik, Yesheya Frayvald, Izi Holtz, Nusi Reis, unknown, Itsi Holtz, Samush Zeidler |
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Many in the large, adult Zionist circles were sympathetic toward Hashomer Hatza-ir. Most of the community, however, was wary of the leftist Zionist youth movements, and did not hesitate to describe them as “Bolsheviks.” Those who took responsibility for our group before the Polish authorities were called “Opieka Organizacji 'Zwiazek Mloziezy Zydowskiej Haszomer Hacair.'” The class separatism that was endemic to every Jewish city did not pass over Rohatyn, and it was a matter of great surprise that “respectable children” could possibly mix in one basket with the children of the poor and the craftsmen. In the case of parents such as mine, who resigned themselves to it, there was always some “respectable man or woman” who took the time to remind them that they should not be so resigned: “The Shomrim are communists, Bolsheviks, and they shame the upper classes.”
My parents were Zionists (especially my father,) but they were constantly troubled by the thought that their children were going to leave them, their property, and their possessions, and immigrate to Israel where they would be poor farmers. Our debates were bitter and drawn out. Often we managed to persuade them over to our opinion, but then they would be overcome by their feelings of love and pride and begin the debate anew.
I confess that the heat of our youthful bitterness pressed us on to radical action, fleeing the house, for instance, to attend summer encampments and assemblies. Mother shed her tears of despair, and I and other like me, though we believed in stifling our emotions in order to dedicate ourselves to the achievement of our goal, cried and cried, sorrowing at the way we were expected to behave.
The image of my parents on the occasion of my immigration to Israel is etched in the depths of my soul. My father and mother stand in the station, all alone on the platform beside the train that will carry me away from them. Tears are choked in our throats. When will we see each other again?
But my mother, who was widowed before the Shoah, declared repeatedly in every letter she wrote me how happy she was, how she thanked God that her children were in the Land of Israel. Over time she forgot all of the blows we had struck against her “respectable” motherly pride, and blessed the youthful restlessness that before had pained her so.
We dreamed modestly of the kibbutz. We could not possibly have imagined the modern kibbutzim of today, with their well-organized agriculture, societies, training programs, joint ventures, and so forth. Our youthful experiences accumulated in the course of a romantic, scouting life of nights spent beside the bonfire on nighttime excursions. In organized discussions we immersed ourselves in the study of Zionist issues, news of Israel, aspects of the labor movement, and socialism. At summer encampments we would race to stand in line to receive our meager portions of food. Our budget was limited, and often the full payment of four or five participants went to cover an additional ten.
Transportation to these encampments was, for the most part, very primitive. We traveled in black wagons, driven by farmers. Most years, preparation for the encampment including drawing a collection from a variety of sources, including individual and group donations, publicity events, and contributions from our few sympathizers.
For two weeks every year, we would gather in the bosom of our rich natural surroundings, the forests and the cool streams, together with other youth of “the Galilee,” including Hashomer chapters from a number of cities: Rohatyn, Brzezany, Pudhice, Neriyu, and Tarnopol.
I do not recall any periods of apathy or cynicism breaking out among the young pioneer movement of our city, although relatively few remained with the kibbutz movement following their immigration to Israel. Those who continued to call the kibbutz home now remain active in its affairs, and still dwell within its boundaries. Our children live with us, and there is even a generation of grandchildren on the kibbutz, whose grandparents came out of Rohatyn.
I have pleasant memories of my Hebrew education in Rohatyn. The authorities of the Polish gymnasium explicitly forbade us to study Hebrew, but not a single Zionist in Rohatyn submitted, and for many years we were concerned with finding Hebrew teachers for ourselves. As for me, I went to Hebrew classes secretly, in the evening, hidden from the eyes of my Gentile classmates.
We were affiliated with the Tarbut association in Poland, and they supplied us with the teachers that we needed. Later they sent an official to Rohatyn to establish a Hebrew nursery school and kindergarten.
In closing, I offer this short anecdote:
In March of 1959, Sheva Weiler, who was visiting Israel from the United States, stayed in my home on kibbutz Ayn-Hamiforats. In her youth she had been a leader in the Rohatyn chapter of Hashomer Hatza-ir. This was her first visit to an Israeli kibbutz. Everything was a startling discovery, and it all made her very happy, but the highpoint was when she encountered a friend in the dining hall whom she had known from the Hashomer encampments. He had been responsible for the cooking, and was in the habit of adding a repeta, that is, a little extra, to her portion of food. She ran across the length of the dining-hall, and, full of emotion, shouted, “Do you remember me? You used to give me repeta! Repeta!”
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Standing from the left: Uri Kartin (the leader,) Kuva Dam, unknown, Enge Shumer, Bronke Hornstein, Zev Barban, Dr. Yankev Kopferman, Attorney Shmuel Spiegel, Jack Faust, Grine Faust, Manye Kartin, Bokser Zusha, Meltsi Holtz, Chayke Maor, Ruzke Hoder, Junik Bumze, Huchbarg Feybush, Devora Leyner |
A small occurrence, but much more significant than it seems. This same Sheva passed through the seven-levels-of-Hell that was the Shoah, but her happy memories of childhood, of the Shomrim encampments and the passion of the young people who participated in them, have not left her to this day. The same is true of all who were fortunate enough to be a part of this organization at some time.
In our city, Hashomer Hatza-ir lasted, despite resistance from the very beginning, from the twenties, till the Soviet occupation, when its members fled on foot to Vilna. There they joined up with the local Shomrim chapter, and its leader (Chaim Alon.)
By Yehosua Spiegel (Tel-Aviv)
There are some who remember the organization in the days when it was still called “Hashomer.” I am speaking here of a later period. Our forebears were the daughters of Yankev Leyter, Bruche and Miriam, who now live on the Hashomer Hatza-ir kibbutz. Reyze Striyer also managed to make it to Israel after the Shoah, and died there. Her son Buni lives on the kibbutz as well.
I recall the founders of the Hashomer Hatza-ir chapter in our city as Zev Altman, Blume Teichmen, and Shimshon Liebling. After these first few made aliyah (immigrated to Israel,) their places were taken by Lea Teichman, Michoel Noytler, Ariye Teichman, Tsvi Bratsfis, Kalman Katz, and Clara Greenfeld. They too went to Israel in their time, and can be found on the Hashomer Hatza-ir kibbutz. The only one missing is dear Tsvi Bratsfis, whom we affectionately nicknamed “Barbaz.” He put an end to his life, because of a false love.
Next comes the third generation (according to time of immigration): Yehoshua Spiegel, Avrom (Bumek) Cohen, Atke Goldhober, Chaim Alon, and Yeshayahu Klumberg. We even carried on in secret through a fourth generation: Elimelech Bratsfis, Klara Shuler, Rochel Strulicht, Chave Blutner, Gershon Goldhober, and many, many more.
What role did our chapter not fulfill in the city? With it we learned Hebrew, awakened our passion for Zionism and labor, circumnavigated the city on hikes, and held discussions in the bosom of nature. We argued and debated over books, sang songs in Hebrew, Yiddish, and Polish, and engaged in sporting and scouting activities.
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From the right, first top row: Kinstler, Kupferman, Lipshits; Baum, Weiss, Shumer. In the middle, the leader of the troop, Etke Mandel Below from the right: Lunke Bomze, Baum, and Malke Shvarts |
Most of the time, we would cross the bridge on the river Gnila Lipa, march past Yosef Altman's house straight to the Laka field, not far from the brickyard of Mr. Alter Faust, of blessed memory. Often we competed for the field with the other youth organizations, but we never surrendered our “strength.”
Even our adversaries knew to appreciate Hashomer Hatza-ir, and we were not lacking in adversaries, whether from among the other strands of Zionism, the religious and traditional authorities, or those who simply opposed anything new. Over time we made it evident that our cause was an earnest one. We began to participate in summer encampments, and to travel to assemblies and administrative meetings having to do with financial matters and slowdowns in learning and activity. It must be remembered that most of the participants in our chapter assisted their parents in supporting the household, help that their parents could not do without. On this basis, bitter arguments often broke out between children and their families, and not everyone could weather them. With time, as we began increasingly to despair of leading a normal life in the exile of Poland, opposition weakened. But the appointed season had passed, and World War Two was already looming on the horizon.
We used the chapter as a beacon and a refuge from all of the bothers and obstacles of the outside world. In it we sought solutions to all of the questions that troubled us. We received knowledge and wisdom in the chapter. After a workday, we would crowd into the chapter auditorium, entering group by group from different corners. The group-leader would lecture us on a certain topic: Zionism, the history of the Jewish nation, news from Israel, Kibbutzim. Or he would open up a discussion on a literary matter that was central to our concerns, or offer a friendly clarification. In the older groups, it was the custom to distribute reading material, and every member, according to his turn and topic, had to make a presentation, and was thus trained to later receive responsibility for facilitating educational activities and leading new groups.
On Saturdays, we held nights of song and dance. We rejoiced in every new Israeli song, and did not merely learn their words and tune, but saw before our very eyes the nature and landscapes that they depicted. We also sang Yiddish songs, which expressed the social problems of the nation in exile. We went away to summer encampments, where we were far from the noise of the city and free from every yoke and limitation. These were not easy to organize. We assembled the means in what time we had, gathering food in the chapter facilities, and soliciting donations from men of means to cover the expenses of those in need. A chosen few among us were privileged to participate in leadership encampments. I remember the leadership encampment in Maksimeyts, where we were fortunate enough to spend a month with dear “messengers” from Israel. Thanks to them and their students, who afterwards returned to their cities, we were able to double our ranks.
We saw ourselves as trailblazers for the many that made aliyah after us, but sorrowfully the Rohatyn chapter was not to harvest the fruits appointed them, as only a few were able to immigrate to Israel before the Shoah… Most remained, to suffer at the hands of the oppressor, may his memory be blotted out. Only two were saved: Tsvi Shtrulicht and Ariye Rusmen, who were abroad.
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In the center, group-leader Shaul Bader. From above right: Shlyme Rutroyber, Shmuel Teichman, Moshe Mot, Avigdor Hamburg, Michoel Kizl, Eliyahu Katz, Dovid Kartin, and Lybush Bloch. |
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