munger

Tuesday Feb 19

by

[no entry today]

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Matt’s Notes

This is the second day in a row without an entry. Perhaps Papa was too busy staying warm or just trying to get from place to place: Temperatures were around 20 degrees for most of the day and New York got over three inches of snow. What did this do to trolley and subway service back then? What was it like to walk on the streets?

The New York Times featured an editorial that day about the departure of Navy Secretary Denby, who resigned under pressure from Congress over his role in the Teapot Dome Scandal. Other stories of interest to Papa might have been: a tenement fire on the Lower East Side that killed 13 (was Papa out watching it the previous night? Is that why he didn’t write in his diary?); the Jewish boxer Abe Goldstein’s upcoming bout; an appeal from Samuel Gompers, President of the American Federation of Labor, to help German labor organizations; and the Federal Government’s takeover of the naturalization process.

Wednesday Feb 20

by


I saw H.S. after midnight in the
subway selling papers, hardly to be
recognized. —

When single he was sporty well
dressed had a little business of his own
was good, fine, a wonderful chap.
Well he married some time ago
a fine little girl.

He failed in business and to support
his little family he became a newsboy
How cruel fate is to some people.

Very hard is he struggling now
his little wife faithful at his side
encouraging him to carry on hoping
for better times.

A newsboy dressed in the humblest clothes
runs through the subway cars seeking
customers for his morning papers,
I hid myself on the platform that he
may not see me to spare him the possible
shame of his pride

————

Matt’s Notes

My mother writes:

“I wonder who the unlucky H.S. is. So typical and kind of Papa to hide so the man won’t be embarrassed. Look how he romanticizes his little wife by his side. She may have thrown him out on his sad backside…”

This portrait of H.S. is one of Papa’s more literary entries in a while; notice how it takes on an almost fictional narrative style when he says “a newsboy dressed in the humblest clothes runs through the subway cars…” And, as in all literature, the author’s own proclivities register between the lines: Papa’s own giving, generous nature, coupled with his own longing for a wife and family, guides his imagination toward idealized images of supportive spouses and cruel fates; as my mother observes, he never entertains thoughts of domestic trouble or H.S.’s culpability.

So he hides from H.S., and I truly believe he did it to spare the man’s feelings (and to spare his reputation for posterity, he hid his full name as well). But if I were directing this scene for a movie and the actor playing my grandfather asked why he was motivated to hide, I might suggest “because you’re similar people from similar backgrounds, and you’re hiding from the thought that you might wind up like him.” H.S. even has the same initials as Papa, almost like a symbolic figure in a Gothic novel, an unwelcome doppelgänger who challenges Papa’s illusions.

Thursday Feb 21

by

Enjoyed dance given by
3rd dist Z.O.A. at the Parkway Palace.

My brother in law received
a summons to court from
the Success School,

My sister came up and
called me to go with her to
the School,

Because I told the School man
twice before that my brother in law
and out of work, he agreed
to teach him English for the
whole term on payments
of $2.00 a week, on account
I gave him the 2nd 5 dollars
I am glad this is off my
head, I will gladly pay for
him every week as he at present
cannot afford it.

—————

Matt’s Notes

I’m not sure where the Parkway Palace or the Third District of the Zionist Organization of America were located, though I’d say any establishment with the word “parkway” in its name was probably in the Bronx. Hopefully I can make it over to the New York Historical Society to look into it a little more…

Of more interest, though, is Papa’s description of his brother-in-law Phil’s problems with the Success School, which was obviously a vocational or language school catering to immigrants. If it had existed in modern times, it probably would have advertised itself on the subway.

I wonder what the atmosphere was like. Was it a second-floor classroom with a sign in the window and a bunch of typewriters sitting on old school desks? Was it close and stuffy, like the sweatshops its students work in? Maybe Papa’s meeting with the “school man” (his English vocabulary must not have included the words “headmaster” or “administrator”) took place in a dark hallway or staircase. It could have even happened in the classroom while class was in session — sounds like the “school man” wanted to get rid of Phil in favor of a full-tuition student, so he might have deliberately made Papa argue right there, thinking he’d be too embarrassed to discuss Phil’s discount arrangement in front of other students.

In any event, Papa’s sense of duty is once again on display as he forks over $5.00 to keep Phil in class (if a previous commenter on this blog has the conversion right, this would be the equivalent of $60 in 2007, which was probably no small chunk of Papa’s salary). My mother says the words “I am glad this is off my head” really jumped out at her because, for Papa, this would have been an over-the-top expression of impatience. But, these are Papa’s private thoughts, and if that’s as annoyed as he got I’m sure no one noticed.

Phil, by the way, was a Russian immigrant who came to America after his first wife “broke her head,” as Phil apparently put it, in a buggy accident. He would outlive three more wives, all of whom, including Papa’s sister Nettie, died under strange circumstances. This earned him the nickname “serial killer” among certain members of my family. According to one story, Phil half-jokingly offered to make Papa’s other sister Clara his fifth wife when she was around eighty. “No,” she replied, “I’m too young to die.”

Friday Feb 22

by

This is Washingtons birthday
which reminds me that his
courage and sacrifice is a
source of inspiration not only
to Americans, but to people
the world over.

After brief visits to both
my sisters this evening,
I listened in to a radio
adress (sic) given by President
Coolidge to the occasion
of Washingtons birthday.

————–

Matt’s notes:

For Papa to make a note about George Washington’s example in his private diary again proves how sincerely he believes in America and in the merits of sacrificing oneself for the greater good. Coolidge echoed these sentiments in his radio address (the transcript is in the New York Times archive) but they feel more genuine coming from Papa (who knows, maybe Coolidge was sincere — I’ve just lost the capacity to be impressed by Presidential speeches after decades of grotesque national politics, and particularly after the last six years of Presidential lies and opportunism.)

As it did for Coolidge’s radio address a few weeks prior, the New York Times reviewed the clarity of the broadcast, reported on atmospheric conditions, and described the logistics associated with carrying the speech to various American Telephone and Telegraph Company radio stations in the Northeast. I mention this just as a reminder of how novel it still was, in February 1924, to hear a President’s voice on the radio.

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Update 3/8

Dina writes:

Reading Papa’s thoughts about Washington reminded me that my Zeide, my Dad’s father, also had great American heroes. He admired Lincoln, Helen Keller and I think Walt Whitman! I wonder if it was characteristic, for men of our grandfather’s generation, to hold these historical figures in such high regard because they represented, for them, what was best about America. i will have to ask my Dad if he remembers why Zeide loved these individuals so much.

Reading your grandfather’s entries and your comments has caused me to remember things about my Zeide. He like your Papa loved the theater but I don’t believe that he attended many shows. He did however read plays and as a teen ager I borrowed anthologies from him and read many well known and obscure plays from the 1930’s. My grandfather too was an ardent Zionist but probably less left leaning than Papa. I’ll try to dig up some info on his activities. It would be interesting if their paths crossed as I believe they were more or less contemporaries.

Saturday Feb 23

by

Visited the Goldsteins
(Eve) family in the Bronx
in the afternoon. —

In the evening went to the
Sniatyner ball.

Just once a year this annual
dance affords me the opportunity
to meet my country people my
schoolmates etc. —

How everything has changed
between the old and new worlds,
Like a miracle I’ve seen
almost the whole town of my
early youth before me, —
Men, women old and young
are eager to meet again and
talk of days gone by.

A real renunion. —

——————-

Matt’s Notes

I’m often amazed at how Papa conveys so much emotion in so few words. Even his cheerful account of the Sniatyner ball quietly hums with wistfulness and homesickness, each bright note enfolded in a low, minor chord. He may be sentimental, but his prose style can be a real study in economy.

The Sniatyner Ball was most likely organized by a Sniatyn-oriented landsmanshaft, or mutual aid society geared toward immigrants from the same place (I wrote a bit about landsmanshaftn, and the ways they provided health care, burial services and credit to their members, in an earlier post). I think Papa relied mostly on his fraternal order, B’nai Zion, for these kinds of services, but the Sniatyn landsmanshaft obviously played a part in his life.

Interestingly, the landsmanshaft appears to have survived in the form of the United Sniatyner Sick and Benevolent Society, which still provides benefits and holds regular gatherings for descendants of Sniatyn Jews. (If you want to know more you can write to its president, Michael Steinhorn, at msteinhorn ‘at’ comcast.net.) I’m grateful to them for recently pointing me toward a copy of Papa’s 1917 draft registration form at ancestry.com. Check it out:

photo of Papa's Draft Registration

Some highlights include Papa’s 1917 address (136 Rivington Street) and his workplace (Majestic Neckwear at 44 Walker Street, no doubt where Papa met Tillie, the woman who declared her love for him on the trolley a few weeks back). The form is hard to read so I’m inferring a bit, but it looks like Papa, who was a pacifist, may have courted a bid for ineligibility by pointing out that he had “bad feet” and was the sole supporter of his sister Clara. One family story even has him losing lots of weight before his draft examination so he’d appear sickly and weak, but it’s hard to confirm. Stay tuned.

Sunday Feb 24

by


4 am
The dream is over, yes it was
like a dream to meet all my
old home folks, Perhaps in the
pursuit of action yesterdays
dream will be forgotten before
the day is over,

Spent the Eve. at the
Zaer Zion and Youth
of Palestine Clubs.

————-

Matt’s Notes

Those of us who are inclined to feel can understand why Papa needed to grab his diary at 4:AM to write about the Sniatyner ball. The ease and sense of belonging he knew among his landsman must have been a rare commodity for Papa, who longed so keenly for his family back home, for a family of his own, for something other than the loneliness of his little apartment. Even the happiness he felt during the ball had a bittersweet edge because he knew it would be short-lived; perhaps that’s why his previous day’s account is so wistful.

By 4:00 AM, though, as the approaching day brought with it the usual “pursuit of action,” Papa knew his good feeling would end, knew even his sweet melancholy wouldn’t persist against the bustle and struggle of the Lower East Side. “Yes, it was like a dream” he writes, and like all practiced dreamers he did what he could to keep it going a few moments longer, denying the dawn, scratching into his journal whatever he remembered of his dissipating comfort.

Comfort, of course, was what Papa provided so readily for others. I think even his Zionist activism stemmed from his pursuit of others’ comfort, a need to build a place where Jews like him could finally feel they belonged. For his whole life he had lived in ghettos by the grace of fickle governments, settled for fleeting moments of security among friendly clubs and organizations and reunions. For Papa, Zionism stemmed from a real, visceral desire to make sure his descendants wouldn’t need to sit awake at four in the morning, wondering if they’d ever feel safe again.

Wait: as I picture Papa in bed, wishing away the dawn, I remember why I think I’m so familiar with his bittersweet feeling.

When I was a kid I used to experience something I thought of as “the summer feeling,” a sudden rush of warmth, unpredictable and intense — but I know it always washed over me when I was especially comfortable with my surroundings or the people I was with. This feeling, though, was equal parts joy and melancholoy, because I knew it would not last. Even as I felt it I mourned its inevitable passing. I thought it happened to everyone once in a while; I think it happened to Papa after the Snyatin Ball.

But why did I invent the “summer feeling?” Why would I pine for it?

This picture was taken in the summer of 1971. Papa died two months later. I can’t be wrong about this, can I?

Monday Feb 25

by

Received a letter from
home, My dear father
had a serious accident, he
slipped and fell and is
confined to bed.

I am greatly worried
I pray for his speedy
recovery

—————-

Matt’s Notes

Here are Papa’s parents, in the only photo I have of them. The photo is mounted on an oval ceramic base with a gold border, hence the curved edges of the picture:

photo of Papa's parents

Papa was the youngest of six children, so his father must have been over thirty years his senior, or at least in his sixties, by 1924. He also had a paralyzed arm, so while he may not have been old enough for falls to be really worrisome (then again, he may have — I don’t yet know when he was born, and life expectancy for Eastern European men of his age was in the low 50’s at best1) any accident may been that much more dangerous for him.

Remember, too, that Papa could only communicate with his parents and siblings on the other side through mail (and not airmail, which was in its early stages in the 1920s) and the occasional telegram. While Papa obviously had no other expectations, we have to remember that an undercurrent of anxiety over his father’s condition, attenuated by separation and slow communication, will run through Papa’s life from this point on.

photo of Papa's parents

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References for this post:

1 – This is average, so it’s skewed by high infant mortality rates. From “A New Estimate of Ukrainian Population Losses during the Crises of the 1930s and 1940s by Jacques Vallin; France Meslé; Serguei Adamets; Serhii Pyrozhkov. Population Studies, Vol. 56, No. 3. (Nov., 2002), pp. 249-264.