dating

Thursday Apr 3

by

Met Miss Beck, she is
a fine girl, Really something
is wrong with me, Why do
I always go to the farthest
points in the city for certain
girls company, when I can
have some within my grasp.

Miss Beck is my neighbor
and I like her company
I will make an effort
to see her often, as she
told me that I am always
welcome to come up the house.

——————-

Matt’s Notes

I think it would be easy to dismiss Papa’s observation about himself — “why do I always go to the farthest points in the city for certain girls company when I can have some within my grasp” — as a variation on the complaint of a certain type of single New Yorker who claims to want to settle down but who, for whatever reason, just keeps playing.

I don’t think it’s that easy, though. My mother recently told me that Papa had a reputation in my family as a “ladies man,” which may well be how he outwardly appeared. We know he was good-looking, well-dressed, and socially active, and he seemed to suffer no shortage of dates and even dramatic encounters with secret admirers despite his intense, inner loneliness.

I think what we may be observing here as he agonizes over the birds in the bush is the flip side of his capacity for idealism. We’ve already observed his tendency to idealize — causes, Presidents, his past, the lives of others — and I think he applied it to women as well. Henriette, the woman for whom Papa’s been pining for days, may well be beautiful and socially ambitious, but, as my mother observes, “she was only a poor girl from the Bronx, after all, who may have had a high school education, if that,” and certainly not worthy of descriptions like “the perfect 20th Century Girl” with “eyes of enchantment” who “stands above other women.”

This idealized image was, I think, what made Papa’s crush on Henriette so hard on him. She may have stood above other women in his eyes, but as a side effect she also stood above him. In contrast to her, he saw himself as a “poor dog,” a “wage earner” who had no right to expect anything of her, which was of course unreasonable; it’s not like he was some groundskeeper in a British novel who wanted to marry the daughter of his lord and master. He was just a struggling Jewish immigrant from the Lower East Side who wanted to date someone from his same social caste. But unlike his neighbor Miss Beck, whose proximity allowed him to see her in less-than-ideal condition once in a while, Henriette lived far away and could only be observed on occasion; she made a perfect target for his idealization, and, unfortunately, an inadvertent trigger for his sense of romantic hopelessness.

What I don’t understand, and will keep thinking about, his how Papa’s idealistic nature remained intact but evolved into something more constructive as he grew older. Idealists may find themselves disappointed on occasion, but they also have the capacity to be forgiving, resilient, thrilled by little things — the very qualities that made him such a fine activist, dedicated husband and father, and memorable grandfather. When, and how, did this evolution occur? Are we all capable of such change?

Monday Apr 21

by

Attended Benefit performance
of the Chalutzial. —

Jack Zichlinsky that all
boys of the camp are either
keeping company or getting
engaged,

Am I to be left behind,
I met Miss Schneiderman
and look her home, Why does
she think of me so much.

Earlier in the evening I
met Miss Schein a new
aquaintance she is a fine type

——–

Matt’s Notes

I’ve got limited time to post today, but hopefully I can revisit this entry later. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

— The “Chalutzial” benefit Papa attended was, as one would expect, a Zionist fundraiser. Chalutzim (or halutzim) translates as “pioneers” in Hebrew and referred, in Papa’s day, to early Jewish settlers of Palestine. I think the word implies a certain virility and preparedness, too — it’s meant to evoke images of young, rugged people swinging pickaxes and building roads in the unforgiving desert sun. Such images would have appealed to Papa, who has demonstrated on several occasions his desire to challenge the popular perception of Jews as lacking in physical strength and competence.

— It’s terribly sad to see him worry over how his other friends are “keeping company or getting engaged” while he remains intensely lonely, but interesting in its way. Even as he utters the thought, he’s fresh from an encounter with Miss Schneiderman, who desires in vain keep company with him, and Miss Schein, “a fine type” who sounds like a genuine prospect.

I think we see in this entry both the up and down sides of Papa’s idealistic nature. On the one hand, it allows him to support and have faith in the prospects of his brethren to make a new life in a far-off, hazardous place; on the other, it drives him to unfavorably compare his relationships with the flesh-and-blood women around him to his unattainable standards for perfect romance. He knows this about himself, as we’ve seen, but it doesn’t make him feel any less lonely or hopeless.

Luckily, Papa, this is you:

Tuesday Apr 22

by

The Linzers introduced me
to a girl for matrimonial
purposes. She seems to be a
nice girl but does not yet
attract me.

Out of courtesy I arranged
a date with her to see a ball
game next Saturday.

—————-

Matt’s Notes

It seems like Passover week involved a little more house-hopping than we’re used to seeing from Papa. My wife Stephanie tells me this makes sense since ghetto Jews were known for opening their doors and moving freely between each others’ homes during holidays. (As always, if you’d like to confirm, correct, or add to any such theories, please drop a comment or write to the address below.)

I’m sure Papa’s friends and neighbors thought, as he did, that it was cause for alarm for him to be single at the advanced age of 29, but this is his first account of third-party matchmakers overtly introducing him to a woman for “matrimonial purposes.” I imagine the Linzers invited Papa to their home, trotted out the young prospect, and left the two of them alone to chat over coffee and Pesadich sweets. (For some reason, I picture them picking at slices of marbled bundt cake as opposed to, say, a plate of macaroons as they tried to figure out whether they’d like to have dessert together every night for the rest of their lives.)

I don’t think Papa, with his gracious and steady demeanor, would have inadvertently betrayed his lack of attraction to the Linzers’ friend, nor do I think he would have let her know he invited her to a ball game out of mere courtesy. Then again, maybe he was giving her a chance. I know he took my grandmother to see the Yankees when they were first dating, so perhaps he saw a woman’s response to baseball as some kind of litmus test. (Such test are common, of course. I subjected Stephanie to the movie Commando during one of our early video-watching dates. Turned out she knew it well enough to quote the dialogue. Is there a more powerful aphrodisiac than hearing a woman say “let off some steam, Bennet” in a Schwarzenegger voice?)

Wednesday Apr 23

by


Visited Kinereth Camp
in Borough Park with
Jack, Julius and Shapiro
there were representatives
of other Camps, The occasion
was a Passover festival

———–

Matt’s Notes

Papa, Jack, Julius and Shapiro were all members of B’nai Zion, a fraternal order that, like many such organizations, provided support services to its members (like life insurance and burial services) but also had a strong Zionist agenda. Papa was Master of Ceremonies of his chapter, or camp, which had formed only a few months earlier. At the time, he argued to nickname his camp “The Maccabeans” after the Jewish warriors of old. This resulted in what he called a “big battle” — perhaps his fellow members objected to the political or social implications of such an aggressive nickname — but, driven by his desire to challenge the popular image of Jews as weak and vulnerable, Papa eventually prevailed.

Though a chapter’s nickname was worth battling over, I hadn’t thought much about what other B’nai Zion chapters might have called themselves until I read about the “Kinereth” camp in today’s entry. Kinneret is the Hebrew word for the Sea of Galilee and, more significantly, the name of an early kibbutz, or collective farm, built on its banks. Maybe the Borough Park members chose this nickname because they felt like pioneers out in distant Brooklyn (so far from B’nai Zion’s head office on 23rd Street in Manhattan). The name’s socialist-agrarian flavor is certainly on the mellower side, though the settlers who started Kvutsak Kinneret in the early 1900’s must have been mighty rugged, tenacious people.

I wonder how much a chapter’s nickname really reflected its personality. Papa and his Maccabean pals certainly weren’t prancing around the B’nai Zion Passover party like young Turks, turning over tables and snatching matzoh out of the hands of less assertively-nicknamed chapter members. Still, I would wager his camp’s nickname continued to trigger debates at larger gatherings. How would such arguments have sounded, at a time when Zionist organizations felt that the future could turn on every gesture?

————

Additional References

Saturday Apr 26

by


Had Miss Rosen out at
Ball game, I was glad
after I saw her home. —

She is far from the type that
I need, No more such
matrimonial tryouts.

Spent the entire evening
visiting various Zionist
Clubs on the East Side.

———-

Matt’s Notes

Poor Miss Rosen. Papa had been down on her from the moment his friends, the Linzers, introduced him to her a few days earlier, and she obviously didn’t help her cause at the ball park. (I’m tempted to say she “struck out” at the game, but as you can see I restrained myself.)

I’m not sure which game they saw that day, but Papa must have felt heavily handicapped by Miss Rosen if he couldn’t enjoy himself at either. Out in Brooklyn, the National League champion Giants climbed into first place with a 5-2 victory over the Robins (a.k.a. Dodgers) which would have been tough enough to frown through on a sunny, 60-degree day. Meanwhile, up at the Stadium, the Yankees defeated the Red Sox, 4-3, in an 11-inning thriller that included an inside-the-park home run by Wallie Pipp and a game-winning bunt by Whitey Witt. “Search the records far and wide and you won’t find many better games,” declared the New York Times, “it was packed with all the thrills of a lifetime.”

Papa would have needed catastrophically bad chemistry with Miss Rosen to see such games and remain unmoved. But what offense could she have given? Did she eat ketchup on her hot dog? Did she say she didn’t like movies? Had she never heard of Palestine? It’s hard for me to imagine what might have made Papa so dismissive of her, but maybe his romantic sensibilities didn’t permit him to enjoy something as crass as a “matrimonial tryout.” Maybe Miss Rosen wasn’t really that “far from the type” Papa needed — she just might have been a victim of his desire for a less contrived love story.

——————–

Additional Notes:

I think Papa says “spent the entire evening” at the beginning of the third paragraph of this entry, but I’m not sure if I have the word “entire” right. Here’s what it looks like:

Please write or drop a comment if this looks like something else to you.

Also, if you’re a baseball fan, do yourself a favor and check out the Times‘ recaps of the day’s games. I can’t get enough of their baseball writers’ bemused tone:

Wednesday July 2

by


I saw the girl that the
marriage broker wanted
me to meet and to
my dissappointment she was
really good looking and
to my impression is very
refined and naive.

I enjoyed being there
for some time, and I will
try to meet her again,

She has the qualifications
that I desire, but will
a man of my nature appeal
to her? I would make an
end to my bachelor days
for the sake of relieving
my loneliness, and may God
help me to succeed.

She is worthy of love.

————–

Matt’s Notes

I first asked my mother if I could borrow Papa’s diary back in Thanksgiving of 2006, and when she brought it to the table my sister picked it up, opened it, and read this passage out loud. It was my first look at the diary in about 20 years, and it certainly dispelled any question of whether Papa’s writing was as compelling or poignant as I remember.

The real surprise of this entry is the unexpected sharp turn it takes in the first paragraph: “To my disappointment” followed by “she was really good looking” and an array of other compliments. It’s an incongruous, surprising phrase. Why would he be disappointed to meet such a desirable woman through his marriage broker? The sentiment becomes clear a few lines later when we realize Papa feared he was not in her league. It’s reminiscent of his early doubts about the 20th Century Girl, when he wrote “But have I the right as a wage earner to propose to a girl like her?” and “has a poor dog [like me] a chance? Is a girl even of her type ripe enough to see my qualities, and truly love me despite my poor standing?”

Could Papa’s previously established distaste for the marriage broker (a.k.a. “shadchan“) have its roots less in his rejection of such a mercenary approach to romance (as I have posited) and more in his reluctance to see himself through the eyes of a prospective wife and find himself wanting? Does he fear his own tendency to idealize “naive” and “refined” women with the “qualifications” he desires, to see them as unattainable, towering presences, to embark, with each crush, on a Cyclonic roller coaster ride of infatuation and doubt and disappointment?

Whatever the reason, the confused and urgent pattern of this entry hints at some inner turmoil. She is attractive and well-qualified; he is not worthy; he would like to put an end to his loneliness; he prays to find someone who might help him. He seems to lose track of the woman he’s met as he goes through these ideas, as if he’s thinking more of what she represents, what she says about his need to marry, to raise a family, than who she really is.

But finally, he tells us, “she is worthy of love.” This assertion, and the way he delivers it, could not be more sad or perfect. It embodies everything he’s going through at once: all his doubt, all his need, all his bewilderment, all his abstraction, all his desire, all his hope. It is absolute; it is tentative. It is the declaration of a man who knows where his path leads but wonders, desperately, if someone will ever help him find where it starts.

Monday July 14

by


Saw Clara this evening,
It seems that I lost my
interest in her as far as love
is concerned.

I visited today the new
place where I am going
to work, it’s a fine place
as long as I have still to work
for others this is not a bad
place, if the employer would
only realize my value and
raise my salary, I’d be more
content.

—————–

Matt’s Notes

Papa seems to be well-acquainted with “Clara,” or at least he’s known her long enough to compare his past and present feelings about her, but I’m not sure who she is. She’s obviously not his sister Clara, nor do I think she’s the distressingly skinny woman he ran into back in April (“…on my way to work I met C. How different she looks now, She lost weight and looks bad”).

If Clara is a character from Papa’s diary, she could be the woman he met through a matchmaker on July 2nd and deemed “worthy of love.” If so, his lack of interest in her now doesn’t surprise me, since from the outset he saw her as an abstraction, an applicant with the right “qualifications” through whom he might end his “bachelor days,” but also an inaccessibly ideal representation of womanhood who might be too good-looking and refined for “a man of [his] nature.” Papa’s tendency to idealize women, only to be disappointed when they turned out to be flawed humans, is well-known to us by now. We also know this tendency toward idealization would, as Papa matured, mellow into a more useful capacity to see good things in people. I think this helped him cultivate the forgiving, gentle and comforting nature those of us who knew him found so striking.

Meanwhile, Papa has revealed for the first time that he’s going to be starting a new job shortly, which surprises me since he just got a $5 raise few months ago. Perhaps he’s just starting in a new factory owned by the same boss, or maybe his factory has moved to a new location. In any event, I’m trying to figure out how much Papa would have earned as a machine operator in the 1920’s; we know, thanks to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, that the going rate was around $15 a week in the in the early 1900’s and 1910’s. Even if Papa’s experience and labor affiliation had him earning a bit more than that, we get a good sense of how hard it must have been for him to live in New York and still send money back to the old country.