munger

Wednesday Mar 19

by

On my way from work I was
instinctively walked into a
synagogue to listen to the
Megilath Esther (The Book of Esther)

The house was crowded, everything
went along mechanically, without
any enthusiasm. —

In my mind is a picture
of the same scene in the old
world in my early childhood,
at sunset all stores are closed
All work has stopped, All streets
are full of young & old go on their
way to the synagogues dressed in
their Sabbath’s best, At the places of
worship, everybody seems so happy
as if they would live there with Esther
her adventure. Thus they welcomed
the eve. of the happ merry fiesta of
Purim. — Sweet memories.

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Matt’s Notes:

Purim is one of the more cheerful Jewish holidays, a celebration of how ancient Jews of the Persian Empire saved themselves from an evil royal minister who hoped to destroy them. The celebration involves dressing up like characters from the story, putting on plays, having parties and giving to charity. Papa grew up in a Jewish ghetto where Purim was probably the biggest festival of the year and gave everyone a breather from the trials of their daily lives, so it’s no wonder it meant so much to him.

When I read about his disappointment, I’m reminded of the scene in Midnight Cowboy in which John Voight arrives in New York, sure his cowboy look will make him a standout gigolo, only to see dozens of other cowboy gigolos wandering around. This might seem like an odd association, but I bring it up because New York can be unforgiving that way — huge, busy and hungry, the city is indifferent even to the things we find most significant. New York has never needed help from any holiday to feel colorful and hectic; perhaps that’s why, in Papa’s eyes, Purim felt less important when imported.

I should note that my wife, Stephanie, who spent her early childhood in an insular Orthodox community, remembers Purim as a big deal and has many happy memories of it. Perhaps the dilution of Purim Papa sensed was due to the diversity of his neighborhood (yes, it was very Jewish, but not entirely so, while my wife’s neighborhood was probably as culturally homogeneous as Papa’s home town). He might have enjoyed Purim more, too, if he’d had children to dress up and regale with the old stories; surely such holidays intensified his longing for a family of his own and contributed to his sense of disappointment.

In any event, the Yivo Institute for Jewish Research has a great Web site called “People of a Thousand Towns” with images of Eastern European Purim celebrations in the early 20th Century. I’ve written to Yivo with a request to use some of these images. Alas, I’m not sure I’m ever going to hear back from them The above and below photos of early 20th Century Eastern European Purim celebrations come from this collection and are published with their permission. Check out the site when you get a chance (registration required) but beware — you may lose a few hours paging through all the images.

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Update 3/19 –

My mother writes:

When I was growing up in Brooklyn, Purim was also a big deal. I remember one play in Hebrew school where I played Queen Vashti, the king’s petulant wife. Papa thought I was wonderful and raved about the way I tossed my head, but I’m sure he believed I should have been chosen for the part of Esther.

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Additional references:

Here’s more on the story of Purim from jewfaq.org and Wikipedia .

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Update 3/22 –

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Thursday Mar 20

by


I was embued with
a Purim spirit just thinking
a little of days gone by
Down in my neighborhood
I saw some cheep masquerades
just a shadow of a Purim
in the old world.

Visited my sisters.

I talked with the 20th
Century girl on the phone,
I long for a closer association
with her, I am constantly
thinking of her.

————

Matt’s Notes

Just a few days after meeting the “20th Century Girl,” Papa has become the very picture of a lovesick young man. Nothing can distract him from his longing; even children running by in their Purim regalia make him feel worse. (Not that he was happy about the state of Purim in New York to begin with, as we saw yesterday.) If this were an old cartoon he’d be kicking a can down the street. Maybe a car would drive through a puddle and splash him.

I wonder where he talked to the 20th Century Girl — he didn’t have a phone in his apartment, so he must have borrowed a neighbor’s or used a pay phone in his building or on the street. I’m sure he prearranged the call with his friend Rothblum (who introduced Papa to the 20th Century girl) during their conspiratorial shvitz a couple of nights earlier.

In any event, when she talked to Papa, the 20th Century Girl might have looked a little something like this:



Image source: Young woman posed with a telephone, 1915. Library of Congress call # LC-USZ62-89817. No rights information indicated.

Friday Mar 21

by

(above date) First day of Spring
proper to renew hopes

I am restless, if my
not for my radio which
kept me spellbound, in
the report round by round
of a championship boxing
fight at the Madison Square Garden
where at the End a new Jewish
champion was crowned,
I would not [be able to] stand my
loneliness. —

Just at this time I am
thinking of the 20th C. girl.

Before long I expect to have
the pleasure of her company
at an opera performance.

Received a letter from home
(parents) father still ill, May
the next letter bring me the news
of his speedy recovery.

——————

Matt’s Notes

The boxing match Papa listened to while he pined for the 20th Century Girl was a bantamweight bout in which Abe Goldstein, the challenger, took the title from defending champ Joe Lynch in a 12-round decision. According to the New York Times, Goldstein was “a product of the Ninety-second Street Y.M.H.A. and a graduate of the fistic nursery over which Nat Osk, Y.M.H.A. athletic instructor, reigns.” This refers to the very 92nd St. Y known today for its upscale guest lectures (“In Conversation: The Nimoys on Collecting”) and adult education programs (“Healthy, Wealthy & Wise: Life After 50”) so it’s a little hard to picture it as a hotbed of pugilism.

Yet so it was. Abe Goldstein was one of the many Jews who, hoping to box their way out of the ghetto, came to dominate the sport in the 1920’s. In Papa’s day, more New York boxers were Jewish than Irish or Italian, and Jewish gym owners, promoters and trainers also “assumed disproportionately prominent roles in all aspects of the sport”.1 In fact, when Goldstein left the Y for Grupp’s Gymnasium on 116th Street in Harlem, he came under the wing of the great Jewish trainer Ray Arcel, a Stuyvesant High School grad who trained 20 world champions including Kid Gavilan, Roberto Duran and Larry Holmes. The owner of Grupp’s was apparently such an anti-Semite that Arcel and his charges picked up and took their act to the little-known, Jewish-owned Stillman’s Gym on 125th street, after which it grew into one of boxing’s legendary gyms.2

Jewish boxers usually wore Stars of David on their robes and trunks and rarely tried to pass for gentile, though their attitudes varied as to whether they were fighting on behalf of the Jewish people or just doing their jobs3. Papa had no such ambivalence, though. Like many Jewish immigrants who had experienced European anti-Semitism firsthand, Papa took pride in his fighting landsmen and other “muscle Jews” who refused to appear stereotypically weak and cowed. Remember, he nicknamed the chapter of the mutual aid society he belonged to “The Maccabeans” after the Jewish warriors of old, so living, breathing Jewish athletes (who probably lived across the alley from him) must have filled him with more than garden-variety ethnic pride.

Alas, no one — not “Slapsie” Maxie Rosenblum, Benny Leonard, or Ray Arcel himself — could have shown Papa how to conquer his loneliness or beat the poverty that kept his ailing parents in the old country. We’ve seen before how milestones made him especially contemplative and melancholy, and though the arrival of Spring was “proper to renew hopes,” I’m not sure he felt genuinely hopeful. Stay tuned.

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References for this post:

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And here’s a 1922 Benny Leonard fight via YouTube:

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Our friend J.R. adds:

For what it’s worth, Abe Goldstein’s first fight was on June 30, 1916, in New York, New York – he knocked out George Lewis in the 8th round. On August 4th, he defeated Kid Rago, and on August 26, he made quick work of a boxer who went by the name Smiling Willie. From what I can tell, the names of his competitors grew more and more comical as he went along culminating in successive and, one would assume, heartbreaking losses in 1925 to Bushy Graham in New York, and Dixie LaHood in Butte, Montana. (Even the names of the towns he fought in got funnier if you read them wrong!)

He was considered to be among the top five bantemweights of all time… presumably by some guy who was familiar with at least five bantemweights.

Saturday Mar 22

by


Attended the Hadassah
Ball at the 71st Reg. Armory

It looked more like a
fashion show, because
of the attendance
being of the most prominent
Jews, displaying their
best in evening dress.

However it did not impress
me very much I felt
rather lonesome throughout
the evening although I met
numerous friends.

—————–

Matt’s Notes

In 1924, Hadassah was well on its way to becoming the enormously successful Jewish womens’ organization it is today, though it had technically become a subset of the Zionist Organization of America in 1918. Its growth outstripped ZOA’s almost from the start, though, and it would only be a few more years until resulting organizational tensions effectively ended the relationship. Papa was an active, loyal member of the ZOA, so I’m sure he picked up on some of these tensions. This may be why he was so uncharacteristically quick to dismiss the guests at the Hadassah function as vain and self-important — his ZOA compadres must have lit up the schvitzes with such talk.

I wonder, too, if his unforgiving reaction to the “prominent Jews” at the ball was related to the “20th Century Girl” (if you’re just joining us, the “20th Century Girl” was the latest object of Papa’s ardor). He pined for her constantly, but worried that her social aspirations — her need to be “prominent” — precluded a relationships with a lowly “wage earner” like him. As a result, he’d felt lousy and forlorn for days. Perhaps, deep down, he was angry at the 20th Century Girl, blamed her for his apprehension, and took it out a little on the highfalutin’ Hadassah folk she aspired to be like.

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The Sienese-inspired 71st Street Armory was a mighty fine building, but it’s been gone since the 70’s. Here’s what it looked like while it still stood on 33rd and Park:

Papa, of course, would have worn his tuxedo there that night:

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Additional notes:

For a better Hadassah history than on the Hadassah site itself, check out this excerpt from the American Jewish Desk Reference.

Image source: 71st Regiment Armory, Library of Congress call # LC-D4-19584

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Updates:

I’ve updated my March 19th post with early 20th Century Eastern European Purim images from the Yivo archive. Give them a look if you’ve got the time.

Sunday Mar 23

by

this was the most beautiful
day this spring season.

Everything is fine and
beautiful but something
is missing.

Attended in afternoon
the East Side Keren Haysod
meeting with Weitzman at
Cooper Union. Nothing new
excepting the collection of about
$18,000 — the the fund, and
the presentation to Weitzman
of a $25,000 check by the Comittee.

In Evening I hung around
the Z.Z. with Blaustien, nothing
seems to be able to drive away
my monotony.

————

Matt’s Notes

Boy, Papa was really in a funk — he attended an event with Chaim Weitzman himself, saw 18 grand raised for his beloved Keren Hayesod, and still he said it was “nothing new.” This would be like me sitting next to William Shatner on a plane, seeing a gremlin crawl along the wing, and later reporting that my flight was “fine.”

He had a lot on his mind, though. When he said “something is missing,” he might have been talking about the ailing father he hadn’t seen for years, the longed-for company of the “20th Century Girl,” or, more likely, a little of both. As we’ve noted before, Papa would take stock of his life with apprehensive introspection at milestones like his birthday or New Year’s Eve. And here it was again: The beautiful weather made his melancholy stand out in relief; the world was thawing, but he felt more frozen than ever.

I understand these feelings because I’ve felt that way myself. But not always, Papa, because this was you and me:

Monday Mar 24

by

Attended the Banquet at the
Astor in honor of Weitzman. for
the K.H.

Another source of joy.

Very seldom have I heard such
an outpour of idealism at
one meeting.

About $160,000 has been
raised at this gathering.

—————

Matt’s Notes

Papa’s been sort of a Chaim Weizmann groupie over the last couple of days, first seeing him at the Cooper Union and now following him to the Hotel Astor, a grand and gorgeous Times Square spot we’ve discussed earlier.

hotel astor

It seems to have been a choice venue for high-profile Zionist fundraising activities. Last time Papa was there he saw the influential Rabbi Joseph Silverman throw his previously-withheld support behind the cause, and now another all-star lineup of American Zionists (including Silverman) showed up on behalf of Keren Hayesod. (At a recent visit to the New York Historical Society, I saw a pamphlet describing one of the Astor’s key attractions, a gallery that featured Native American artifacts and busts of various tribesman. It struck me as well-meaning but rather exploitative; I wonder what Papa made of it, or if Weizmann and company hung around in there.)

In any event, it’s good to see Papa feeling joyful and idealistic after a long string of lonely, anxious days. (I say this partly out of self-interest, too — the more I work on this project, the more I think my own moods are starting to mirror Papa’s.)

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References for this post

Tuesday Mar 25

by

Had the 20. Century girl on the
phone. Arranged a date
with her for this coming Sat. at (torn)
opera for which occasion I have (torn)
secured the choicest best seats.

Attended the performance
and movie at the Capitol.
Again the usual divertisement
Ballet & Music which appeals
so much to me.

The terpsy chorus interpretation
to the music of Straus’ Waltz,
Artists dream, was more than
wonderful.

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The movie Papa saw at the Capitol that night was The Unknown Purple, a sci-fi thriller notable for its use of purple-tinted frames and special effects (the film’s villain wields a purple invisibility ray while committing his dastardly deeds). The New York Times review was lukewarm, though the anonymous reviewer enjoyed the action scenes. Looks like Papa liked it even less, since he was more interested in the night’s ballet and music presentation than in the film (remember, the movie palaces of old supplemented their screenings with live, “highbrow” performances of all sorts to give their decidedly less priveledged audiences a taste of culture).

Note: Though I’m no one to question Papa’s knowledge of classical music, I think the musical piece he saw interpreted at the Capitol was Strauss’s “Artist’s Life,” not “Artist’s Dream.” Perhaps the slip happened because Papa’s own dream — a date with the “20th Century Girl” — was in the offing.

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A couple of the words in this entry are partially missing due to a small tear in the side of the page, but it also has a couple of other words I can’t quite make out. It looks like he’s written “the terpsy chorus interpretation of Straus’ Waltz” in reference to the house orchestra at the Capitol Theatre, but that’s obviously not right. Give it a look below. Any ideas?

unknown word

Update:

My mother adds:

He may have meant Terpsichore, who was the muse of
dance. He probably heard the word, but didn’t get the spelling right.

That makes sense. The word he was trying to write was “terpsichorean.”

unknown word
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References for this post: