more research needed

Saturday Jan 12

by


Slept late, in the evening visited
the K.H. office, the 2nd and 3rd Zionist
Districts and the remainder of the time
about 3 1/2 hours (from 11:30pm to 3:00am) at
the Cafe Royal.

Goldstein introduced me to Dr. Murdoni
the famous dramatic critic, the Dr. M.
told me of a sad experience
while in Siberia on a mission of the
Russian Jewish Relief Comittee during
the war, He met ther 500 Galician
Jews in one place, very religious
old jews and jewesses and children
were forced to live among the
wild Tatars in the villages in
Siberia, where they were forced to go
for no reason whatever, and what
horrible experiences they had to go there.

Only one picture of the Golus

————–

Matt’s Notes

Yesterday Papa talked about escaping to the movies, but today he’s got more serious things on his mind. It’s interesting to be reminded that, as modern and American as his life seems, he could relate quite closely the dark, almost regressive-sounding world of the Jews in “Dr. M’s” story. His life might easily have gone that way and he knows it.

I had a bit of trouble reading a couple of words in this entry. I’m not sure if I got “Dr. Murdoni” right or the word “Golus”. Take a look below and see if you think I got them right. Any idea who or what he could be talking about?

——————-

Updates

1/13 – I didn’t have much time to poke around when I wrote this yesterday, but a quick Web search today reveals a bit about the term “Golus.” “The Golus,” as my grandfather uses it, roughly refers to the Diaspora and the plight of Jews in exile. So, when he refers to “Dr. M’s” story of Jews being shipped to Siberia as “one picture of the Golus,” he means it’s one example of Jewish suffering in the absence of a Jewish homeland. The more strident Zionists scorned and sought to eliminate the “golus mentality,” which they saw as a tendency for Jews to resign themselves to defeat and abuse.

Papa didn’t have a violent bone in his body (my mother tells a story of him reprimanding my cousin for swatting a bee because “even a bee has a right to live”) but he must have had a touch of distaste for the image of the “golus Jew,” else he wouldn’t have pushed to nickname his B’nai Zion lodge “The Maccabeans” after the Jewish warrior heroes of the Hannukah story.

2/4 – I just came across a February 26th article in the New York Times about the Yiddish theater that mentions Cafe Royal. Looks like it was on 2nd Avenue and 12th street and was, according to the article, a hangout for Yiddish actors. My mother adds that “it was a gathering place for ‘intelligentsia’ to meet, greet and harangue each other. It was very popular back in the day.”

4/7 – Ari, an Assistant Professor of American Studies at UC Davis, adds:

…Second Avenue was known as “the Yiddish Rialto” or Yiddish Broadway, as it housed most of the Yiddish theaters in NYC. The Royal was the hangout for artists and intellectuals, who would go there before and after the shows, to debate politics, communism, and whatever they wanted to.

And:

Dr. Murdoni is, in fact, Alexander Mukdoni, a prominent and prolific Yiddish theater critic. Most of his work is rendered in Yiddish, and not much of it is translated, but there should be a good bio out there somewhere. He was quite well-respected and very serious about his criticism, scholarship and journalism.

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 29/Saturday Mar 1

by

[1924 was a leap year, so I’ve published February 29th and March 1 on this page]

Little Ruchaly still seriously
ill, which worries me greatly.

After listening for some
time to the radio. —
I went to Jack Zichlinsky’s
house where in company of
friend I spent until 1:15 a.m
Ruchaly feels slightly better

after visiting some Zionist
societies in the Evening with
friend Louis Bluestone, I spent
the rest of the evening at the
Cafe Royal where I met many
friends until 3:30 a.m.

I sent to parents $5.00

—————

Matt’s Notes

Once, around twenty years ago, my mother, grandmother, sister and I were driving around Brooklyn when my grandmother looked at a building and suddenly blurted out “Jack Zichlinsky lived there!” I laughed for about three hours because she really exploded and I had no idea who she was talking about.

Obviously, though, Jack was a good friend of Papa’s since at least the 1920’s, so they had really been through the ringer together if their lives were at all similar. My mother tells me that, when Papa died in 1971, Jack cried while saying kaddish for him. Jack’s tombstone apparently displays the insignia of the Order Sons of Zion (B’nai Zion) the fraternal order to which he and Papa belonged.

Speaking of B’nai Zion, the March 1 post mentions Louis Bluestone, which surprises me because I thought the “Bluestone” Papa has talked about was Dr. Joseph Bluestone, one of the early B’nai Zion leaders (Papa often says “Bluestone” in the same breath as “Blaustein”, who was also a B’nai Zion leader). Perhaps Louis was Joseph’s brother or son; I’ll have to look into it.

————-

Update March 1

My mother adds:

What was even more funny about the J.Z. story is that every time we passed Sheepshead Bay, Nana would point out his home. It became a dumb family joke.

Thursday Mar 6

by

Tried to see my lawyer after work
as per appointment but he was
not at home

I went to Miss Weisman
delivering the banquet picture
I spent there 2 hours in con-
versation with her,

Later me the manager
of the Success School Mr. Lubow
at the Parkway Restaurant
accidentally, he came over to
my table!

After a brief talk about my
brother in law, he declared he
would drop the whole matter
that he would not sue and
declared the incident closed

————–

Matt’s Notes

So, here ends our subplot about the dastardly Mr. Lebow — head of the Success School and the very man about whom Papa tried to see his lawyer earlier in the day — and his mistreatment of Papa’s brother-in-law, Phil. Since I have trampled on his memory already, I’ll keep it going and assume he only dropped the matter of Phil’s tuition (remember, he kicked Phil out of school and tried to collect tuition anyway) because he was drunk, fresh from a visit to an opium den, or feeling flush because he had just burglarized an apartment.

He couldn’t have been all bad, though, because he knew where to go for good chopped liver. The Parkway Restaurant, where he ran into Papa, must have been the very Allen Street Roumanian schmalzateria Calvin Trillin pines for in the “Mao and Me” chapter of The Tummy Trilogy. Like Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse, the only such restaurant I’ve ever been to, the Parkway is said to have had singing waiters and pitchers of chicken fat on every table, though I expect it didn’t strive for such novelty in 1924. Incidentally, the photo Papa brought to Miss Wiesman was from a banquet he attended with her at Greenberg’s Roumanian Casino. This means he ate Roumanian food at least twice in the span of two months, making his mere survival until spring something of a miracle1. Papa finds more ways to win my admiration every day.

Anyway: A trip out to Brooklyn to see his old flame, a happy ending to the Success School Saga, and a nice piece of chicken (or maybe a veal chop) at the Parkway. Not such a bad day for Papa.

————-

Additional notes:

1 – Quoth Trillin:

The standard line about Romanian-Jewish cooking is usually credited to Zero Mostel, a great fan of the Parkway: “It’s killed more Jews than Hitler.”

I hope to learn more when I get my hands on another Trillin article from 1974 in which he profiled the Parkway in more detail for the New Yorker. Perhaps it’ll reveal if the Parkway Restaurant and the Parkway Palace, which Papa referred to earlier, are one and the same.

————-

My mother writes:

I still wish I knew more about the elusive Miss Weisman. If she was an old flame and Papa took her to banquets and brought her pictures of their evenings together, why was she still Miss Weisman? Why not Eva or Sally or whatever her first name was? Such formality. Well, she couldn’t have been too smart if she didn’t see Papa’s worth and grab him for herself.

Sunday Mar 9

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The unexpected happened
Brother Friedman’s wife
died suddenly, and it was
my sad duty as a brother
of one camp to attend the
funeral, which depressed
me.

I spent the evening at
Jack Zichlinsky’s house

—————-

Matt’s Notes

As noted earlier, Papa was an officer in a new chapter of the fraternal Order Sons of Zion (a.k.a. B’nai Zion) though this is the first time he referred to a fellow member as “Brother.” Papa usually called his friends like Jack Zichlinsky (he of Sheepshead Bay) by name even if they were B’nai Zion members, so I wonder if Papa wasn’t quite as close to Brother Freidman.

B’nai Zion functioned in part as a burial society (the rest of their charter included Zionist fund-raising, teaching Hebrew and providing life insurance) so maybe Papa went to Mrs. Freidman’s funeral more out of official, “sad duty” than out of pure friendship. Jews require a minyan — a group of ten or more men — to say kaddish (the prayer for the dead) at a funeral. I expect B’nai Zion guaranteed such a quorum for the families of all its members, which may be the duty Papa refers to here.

Speaking of which, Papa noted the day before that he “found a message from Lemus” asking him to attend the funeral. This brings up a lot of little questions: How, exactly, did he find this note? Did Lemus slip it under Papa’s door? Did he stick it in a mailbox? And who was Lemus? Was he an elected officer of Papa’s B’nai Zion chapter charged with distributing notes under such circumstances? Was he the superintendent of Papa’s building? Did people like Papa, who didn’t have a phone at this time, typically communicate by dropping notes at their friends’ and neighbors’ apartments?

Must…learn…more…

Friday Apr 4

by

Visited Clara at hospital
and Max Breindel,

Max is really besides
a relative a good friend
He is not like some
others of the family

—————–

Matt’s Notes

As noted in a previous post, Max Breindel is the man who met Papa and his sitter Nettie at Ellis Island when they first arrived from the old country. Max also invited them to stay in his apartment, where they shared a bed with his children, sleeping head-by-toe, until they could find a place of their own. Papa always recalled this as a great, adventurous time in his life, and I think his kind words about Max reveal his ongoing gratitude. (Check out the Lower East Side Tenement Museum’s tenement tour to get a better idea of what their living quarters must have been like.)

I don’t know whom Papa refers to when he says “some others of the family” are not as good as Max, but it’s about as harsh a statement as he ever makes. Perhaps he means his brother Isaac, the previous recipient of a disapproving nod for pressuring Papa from the old country for money. I also know his sisters Nettie and Clara didn’t get along, so I wonder if Nettie earned a demerit for some kind of misbehavior or lack of interest while Clara was in hospital with her newborn son.

I’m also trying to figure out if it was unusual back then for an immigrant woman to stay in the hospital for so long after giving birth (it’s been eight days now). Papa had expressed surprise at how early his nephew was born, so maybe there was some sort of medical complication. Then again, a week or more might have been a normal post-childbirth stay in 1924; as always, if anyone reading this knows a little more, please post a comment or send an e-mail.

Saturday Apr 5

by


Attended circumcision of Clara’s
baby at Hospital where he was
named Julius (Yiddish)

Afternoon I went rowing
with Jack Breitbart in Prospect
Park, the warmest day this
spring, it certainly was
refreshing.

I met and took home Miss
Schneiderman from South Bklyn

She is a nice girl and I made
a date with her for an outing
next Sunday at Palisades Park

She is refined but a quiet girl
well bred, and I expect to enjoy
a lot of her company next Sunday.

I have even been invited by
her parents to call often.

——-

Matt’s Notes

Papa wrote his new nephew Julius’ name in Yiddish in the third line of this entry. My wife, who knows about such things, thinks it says “Yussel,” but in any event it looks like this:

Yesterday I wondered whether Clara’s ten-day hospital stay after giving birth to Julius was unusual, but my mother thinks it was typical: “I believe women stayed in the hospital for ten days in those times. I have a distant memory of Nana telling me that her ‘confinement’ was ten days…” I’ll keep trying to confirm this.

Meanwhile, the malaise to which Papa has been confined for the last couple of weeks appears to be lifting, aided by the 65-degree weather and his pal Jack Breitbart. I’m starting to like Jack because he always shows up when wholesome fun is in the offing; the other week he unexpectedly materialized with opera tickets in hand, and now he joins Papa for an invigorating row in Prospect Park (he’s kind of like the Tony Roberts character in a Woody Allen movie). We can only assume Papa wore his straw boater for the occasion, to wit:

And here’s a shot of the lake in Prospect Park between 1910 and 1920:


Image source: The Lower lake, Prospect Park, Brooklyn, N.Y. Library of Congress call # LC-D4-72148

Prospect Park is, of course, in Brooklyn, so Papa must have gone out there in preparation to meet “Miss Schneiderman from South Bklyn.” I assume he was set up with her by Jack Breitbart, who introduced them, perhaps, by the Park’s “Rustic Boathouse” before sauntering off:


Image source: Prospect Park Archives

Papa’s description of Miss Schneiderman as “refined but quiet” may imply a slightly unfavorable comparison to the opinionated, vivacious Henriette (a.k.a. the “20th Century Girl“) with whom he’s been recently preoccupied, but at least he’s lightening up a bit. Looks like he dropped her off at her parents’ home in “South Brooklyn” (he must mean the Brighton Beach area, where he would later raise his family) and made a favorable impression on them, so stay tuned.

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Additional References

For more historical images of Prospect Park, check out their well-organized archives at http://www.prospectpark.org/hist/archives.html.