Saturday June 14

by

Tonight I went out selling
some flowers for the J.N.F.
on the Annual Flower Day
with some girls.

—————–

Matt’s Notes

If you guessed that “J.N.F.” stands for “Jewish National Fund,” you’re our big winner for the week. The J.N.F. had been around since 1901 to pursue the purchase and forestation of land in Palestine, and they’re still at it today. (I think it’s pretty typical behavior for American Jews to plant a tree in Israel through the J.N.F. in the name of someone who’s just died; honestly, until recently I’d only heard of them for this reason.)

According to A Guide to Zionism, published in 1920 by the Zionist Organization of America, the J.N.F. “instituted a Flower Day at Shabuot time” along with many other fundraising efforts; I imagine people like Papa looked forward to it every year as a way to spend a nice Spring afternoon (and maybe as a way to meet “some girls.”) He didn’t seem to do much else with the J.NF. in the 20’s, though I suppose he got more involved later since he received a certificate from them in the 1950’s in recognition of his efforts on their behalf.

Sunday June 15

by

Spent all afternoon with
the boys at Jack Zichlinskys
house, the occasion was the
brief visit of Friend Wiener

————-

As I’ve mentioned before, the words “Jack Zichlinsky’s house” are comedy gold in my family, since we used to laugh about my grandmother’s tendency to blurt out “Jack Zichlinsky lived there” whenever we drove with her past his building in Sheepshead Bay.

Papa and Jack were both fraternal brothers in the Order Sons of Zion (B’nai Zion) as were many of “the boys” they hung out with. I’m not sure why Papa capitalized “Friend Wiener”; is it just a mistake or was Weiner part of some affiliate organization and therefore deserving of the title “Friend”?

Monday June 16

by


After seeing the baseball game
at Ebbets Field, I went to
Harry Eisenkraft and sat
there until late in the night
conversing.

Ms. Eisenkraft was so kind
to give me a picture of Hymie
Eisencraft (Olam Haba) whom the whole
family has grown to love, because
of his love and kindness for
all, but the unavoidable death
robbed him from us at the
prime of his youth.

Five years after his death
I still find find myself under
the shock because of his early
death.

Blessed be his memory
Shalom [?]

Matt’s Notes

Not a bad day to be at Ebbet’s Field, where the Robins (a.k.a. Dodgers) beat the Cincinnati Reds, 5-2.

I’m not sure who the beloved Hymie Eisencraft was, but Papa must have really felt strongly for him to honor him with the term “Olama Haba” (“I’ll see him in the afterlife”) that he has previously used only in relation to his recently-departed father.

Papa also concludes the entry with another Hebrew tribute, though it’s a bit hard to read. My Hebrew-reading wife, Stephanie, can tell it starts with the word “Shalom,” but the second word is harder to make out. Any ideas?

Update: My friend Inbar, a native Hebrew speaker, thinks this is Shalom Lefro, literally “Goodbye to his ashes.”
—————

Update 10/17/07 – I now have a photo of Hymie Eisenkraft:

This photo comes to me through the grandson of the above-mentioned Harry Eisenkraft, who read about this blog in the October 14th New York Times City section. Papa’s father was likely the brother of Harry’s mother, Sara, who spelled her last name Seuerman (making Papa and Harry cousins). Though Hymie fought in World War I, his untimely death did not come in the trenches; he was killed by an auto in Brooklyn on June 26, 1919, an ironic fate too good for the front page editors of the Brooklyn Eagle to pass up.

The woman Hymie appears with in the photo above is his sister-in-law, Jennie. She was married to Harry and appears with him in the photo below.

Harry had one other brother, Issac Mendel, who Papa mentions in his May 15th entry.

—————

Update 1/11/08

Here’s another picture of Hymie Eisenkraft in the form of a custom-made Rosh Hashanah card:

I’ve written a bit more about this card in a separate post.

—————

References for this post:

ROBINS BEAT RIXEY AND THE REDS, 5-2; Brooklyn Batters Rout Western Invaders With Four-Run Rally in the Eighth. The New York Times, June 17, 1924.

Image Source: Outside Ebbet’s Field, 1920. Library of Congress # LC-B2- 5311-1 .

Tuesday June 17

by

Yesterday and today I
did not work so I went
again to a ball game at
the Polo Grounds.

I am so worried that Netties
baby son is ill, he
is coughing so.

May the Allmighty speed
his recovery.

He is named after beloved
father, May he grow up and
be as good as his Grand-
father, for he and Ruchale
are the only bright spots in
the life of their parents.

—————–

Matt’s Notes

Papa saw the Dodgers (a.k.a. Robins) take another game from the Cincinnati Reds on this day, a 5-4 decision in which Tiny Osborne pitching a complete game for Brooklyn.

Wednesday June 18

by

Nothing important

I am listening in to
sad melodies on the radio
no other music will appeal
to me during my mourning

These classic melodies by
great masters are matched
to my thoughts, something
like lost paradise, the
loss of my father, and my other
many disappointments, –

I am not yet old, and oh God
what I have been trough. (sic)

Vanished dreams, etc.
Does the future hold a little happiness
in store for me?

—————–

Matt’s Notes

I don’t know if the words “lost paradise” are a direct reference to “Paradise Lost,” but I think it’s appropriate here. Despite all he has been through to this point, including his emigration from Eastern Europe at 18 and the struggles he went through to establish a life in New York, Papa sustained himself in part by believing he would one day return to “Paradise” — that is, he would reunite with his family and recapture some of the carefree sense of belonging he once enjoyed. The death of his father put an end to that illusion.

Still, when he asks if the future holds a little happiness for him, I can answer with this picture of his own “Heaven on Earth,” or Paradise found:

And Papa, this is you:

My own version of Paradise lost.

Thursday June 19

by


Just received a distressing
letter from Sister Gitel, she is
actually starving with her family,
I will help her.

At the same time she states,
that the funeral of my late father
was the biggest ever held in
Sniatyn all ! old and young
alike went to pay the last honors
to my beloved father. I am
the saddest orphan alive
and I was deprived by fate of
the privilege to say Kadish
at his grave.

I feel now that his memory
is inspiring me to uphold
the dignity that was my his
fathers.

Shalom Le-nafsho

——————–

Matt’s Notes

I’m not sure why, but Papa’s description of his father’s funeral seems almost like something out of a fairy tale: the hillside of a European hamlet, covered with milling families, all gathered together to pay tribute to one of their leading citizens. This is consistent with Papa’s previous diary entry in which he described his adult melancholy as a feeling of “lost paradise,” as if the existence he knew in Sniatyn before coming to New York was somehow enchanted or blessed. Why, then, wouldn’t we expect him to romanticize his father’s funeral and the lost world it represented?

At the same time, Papa knows Sniatyn is anything but Paradise.* It’s a place where Jews — even Jews like his sister Gitel, the daughter of a beloved Talmud Torah teacher whose funeral was the largest the town ever saw — could go starving with their families. Papa had a couple of moments over the last few weeks when he felt overwhelmed by the responsibilities of supporting his family in Europe and even expressed some resentment over his siblings’ frequent requests for money, but thoughts of his father’s example have clearly relieved him of those feelings for the moment.

Papa concludes this passage with a Hebrew phrase similar to the one he used a few days ago in reference to a departed family friend. In that case, Papa seemed to write Shalom Le-efro, or “Goodbye to His Ashes.” Today’s phrase appears to be slightly different: Shalom Le-nafsho, or “Goodbye to His Soul.” Maybe he wrote the same thing in both entries, but they certainly look different:


Shalom Le-efro?


Shalom Le-nafsho?

Feel free to write or comment if you read these phrases any differently.

—————

* Sniatyn would become the very opposite of Paradise during the Nazi occupation. This article from the Guardian, pointed out by our friend Aviva, shows a photo that seems to depict the murder of several Jews in the Sniatyner woods during the massacre of 1942. The article goes on to question whether the photo is actually from Sniatyn, but it’s an interesting and touching read.

Friday June 20

by


That shadchan again bothers me
he called up, and I had
to promise him that I would
make appointments with girls

——–

Matt’s Notes

This is Papa’s third mention of a “shadchan,” or marriage broker, and it’s also the third time he’s been rather dismissive toward the matchmaking profession. I’m not sure why Papa felt he “had to promise him to make appointments with girls” (I wonder if Papa had a stack of photos and phone numbers in his apartment from the shadchan’s previous visits). Was the shadchan an old family friend? Did Papa’s attachment to old world traditions make it hard for him to reject his solicitations outright?

In any event, Papa’s thoroughly modern belief that romantic, self-made love was superior to arranged marriage demonstrates the sort of evolution in thinking that many Jews of his background and generation experienced in America. I suppose his very insistence on writing in English when he was probably more comfortable in Yiddish similarly reflects the tendency of Diaspora Jews to adapt to their surroundings, though he did write certain words in Yiddish when nothing else would do. To wit, here’s how he wrote shadchan in this entry:

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