CHAPTER
SIX
DESTINY
AT WORK
l. Name Play
Until relatively recent times Jews generally had no surnames. Informally people were known by their Yiddish
names followed by the father's, mother's or spouse's name with the possessive
suffix "s", without apostrophe. Sometimes a nickname or one's trade
was added for more specific identification. On official or ceremonial
occasions the Hebrew version of the name was used, followed by the father's
Hebrew name with the interjection "ben" for
"son of" or "bas" ("bat" in the Sephardic dialect ) for "daughter of". Thus Yudel Berels was rendered in
Hebrew as Yehudo ben Dov, and Feigel Leisers became Tsiporo bas (bat ) Eliezer. In religious
ceremonies this practice prevails to the present day.
During the eighteenth century East European rulers ordered the adoption of surnames,
for control and taxation purposes. Many Jews preserved the old tradition by
adding "sohn" (German spelling of
"son") to their father's name, originating such surnames as Josephson, Davidson or Jacobson. Those who claimed descent
from the first High Priest Aaron, known as Kohanim in
Hebrew, or from the Levites, the Temple attendants, adopted variations of these
titles, giving rise to Kohn, Cohen, Kahan, Kohan,
Levi, Levin, Loewi, Lewis, Levitt,
and so on.
But not all Jews were allowed to choose a surname -- the petty officials often
just assigned one based on occupation ( Schuster, Schneider, Kremer, Lehrer,
Farber ); on physical appearance ( Rotbart, Schwatzkopf, Kleinmann, Grossmann
), or on place of former residence or derivation (Hollander, Wiener,
Frankfurter, Dorfmann, Waldmann).
Often these officials wantonly assigned derisory surnames, which could be
avoided by bribes--the higher the gratuity, the nicer the name (Rosenberg,
Goldstein, Blumenthal, Birnbaum, Silbermann). Jews living under Tsarist rule acquired
their surnames in a similar way, often "Russified"
by appending "-ovich" or "-sky"
to the name (Abramovich, Kaganovich,
Levitsky, Portnoy, Polsky, Varshavsky).
There are even Shereshevskys, an indication that our
little town had some prominence at one time, and that its citizens were
adventurous enough to leave its confines and seek their fortune in the wide
world beyond the surrounding forests and swamps.
An unusual historical personage whose ancestors must have come from our town
was one SAMUEL ISAAC JOSEPH SCHERESCHEWSKY (the German spelling of Shereshevsky). This man was born of Jewish parents in 1831
and went to
Our original family name in
2. Destined in Heaven
My father, SHLEIME (SOLOMON) HAYIM, was
already an "old bachelor" of twenty-four when he married eighteen-year-old
ESTHER LIEBE VINOGRAD (WINOGRAD), eldest daughter of one of the
"better" families in town. The betrothal and wedding came about under
circumstances quite unusual for that time and place.
Father was born in Shershev in 1878, the oldest of the
three sons of LEISER BAR and FREIDA LEIE. In his youth he was apprenticed to
his father as a shingle maker, and spent some years in the forest plying this
trade. He greatly resembled grandfather LEISER BAR both in looks and character:
the same prominent forehead, deep-set hazel eyes, brown hair and upright
bearing; and the same simplicity, guiltlessness and amiability. These years of simple life and hard work in
the fresh forest air had a salutary effect on
his physical development, and he suffered no serious ailment until he was in
his sixties when, already in the
Father and a certain girl he associated with "liked" each
other--a euphemism for being in love--and wanted to become betrothed, but proud
Bobbe LEIE opposed the match because the girl's kin
were not to her liking--there ware butchers and similar "low-class"
relatives in her family. When a match was proposed with ESTHER LIEBE, the
daughter of PESHE LEAH SOREH EIDEL's, it was just
what FREIDE LEIE was looking for: a nice girl from a family with real Yihus (pedigree). It seems that grandma PESHE had in her background a Dayan
(Rabbinical Judge) or two, and her brother was the illustrious Reb AVROMKE HANDELSALTZ, a scholar of great renown. Since Bobbe LEIE's frail little body
contained a will of iron, she prevailed and the match was concluded, as was no
doubt destined in heaven.
But destined or not, the path to the Huppa
turned out to be rather thorny. The relatives of the other girl, incensed
by the affront, rose up in retribution, not against the groom as one would
expect, but against the bride. Slander and calumny were bruited about the town,
she was publicly insulted and jeered at in the market place, the wooden shutters on her windows were pelted with stones or
banged at with sticks in the middle of the night, and anonymous threatening
notes were attached to her door, with allusions to dire consequences if the
proposed betrothal is not cancelled. The groom and brother PEISAH (PHILIP) apparently
had no stomach for such rough tactics, but the youngest brother LIPPE (LOUIS) was
of a different mettle and rose to the defence. He was about eighteen or
nineteen then and had many friends who were as spirited as he was. Armed with
metal rods and stout cudgels, they ambushed several of the miscreants during
one of the nights they came to attack the bride's house, and in a fierce free-forall sent them running with bloodied heads and faces.
The whole town was of course in an uproar, the police became involved, and an
ugly rumour was being spread that the butcher boys were planning to use their
knives on LIPPE to get revenge. The affair came to an end by his leaving town
and emigrating to
Notwithstanding
all the unpleasantness, the wedding of my parents took place in the summer of
1901. What was my mother like in her youth and girlhood? On the basis of
remembered fragmentary remarks made by my grandmothers, other relatives, and by
mother herself the picture in my mind is that of a child, the oldest of four
sisters and a brother, apprenticed early as a "helper" to grandma PESHE,
who was also one of the kremerkes whose
bitter life she bewailed in that interminable song she used to entertain us
with. Mother was accordingly burdened at a tender age with the care of the
younger children and various household chores. She nevertheless managed to
learn to read and write Yiddish and some Russian, or at least the local
dialect. She also knew enough Hebrew to read the prayer book, though not
necessarily understanding all the "words"--there were many men who
did not know the full meaning of the prayers they were chanting. As she matured
she was considered comely -- a sheine--with her clear unblemished face,
regular features, dark hair, brown eyes, and what we would designate as
pleasingly plump, an attribute esteemed as a sign of good health. Slenderness
was not considered a desirable quality, and it was not uncommon to say about a
thin person that he or she looks like a suhotnik
(consumptive). Anyway, the mere fact that the fastidious FREIDE we approved
of her as a daughter-in-law is verdict enough on this point.
Upon the
marriage of my parents father gave up his trade as shingle maker because it
involved being away in the forest for months at a time, and the prospect of
such separation did not appeal to the young couple. So what else could a Jew do
for a living? They bought a store of general merchandise located among the
other stores in the market place, of course. The money most likely came from a
combination of father's savings, a contribution by grandpa LEISER BER, and
mother's dowry-the latter could not have been munificent considering that
there were three more girls to be married off. Be that as it may, they must
have started off on an impressive scale, because father acquired the
appellation "SHLEIME der kremer"--a
singular distinction among so many other kremers
in town. This byname was soon
appended to me, and became "YANKEL SHLEIME dem kremers" to no intimates, whereas I was just plain YANKEL
to relatives and friends.
3. Kremer and Forester
Within a
relatively short time after my parents bought their store its operation
devolved upon mother, while father cast about for other enterprises, probably
because the income from it was not enough to be worth the time of both of them.
The main reason though was that father, despite the
fancy title "Shleime der
kremer" was not very successful at the trade. He
was too straightforward and had an innate distaste for the petty wheeling and
dealing, the haggling, and the abasement that it entailed. Instead of asking
too high a price in the knowledge that the customer would bargain no matter
what was asked, he would state a fair price to bring a reasonable profit, only
to be immediately sneered at and offered an amount way below his own cost. And
when the peasant was told that he cannot have it for any less, he would stalk
out of the store in disgust. "How can I buy from you if you don't want to
bargain?" was the general attitude. Many customers just stayed away
because to them the absence of bargaining took all the fun out of shopping.
Many others, however, began to appreciate father's honesty, after bargaining
in other stores and finding that they could not get the merchandise for less
than what father asked, and would thereafter buy only 'from "SHLIOMKA."
These were so impressed by his fairness that they started coming to him for
advice on other matters, and even to resolve personal disputes among themselves.
Their confidence in him was expressed in a characteristically simple phrase
that became current in some of the villages: "Yak Shliomka
kazhe, to pravda!"
(If SHLIOMKA says so, it is the truth!) Their appreciation of father was
manifested in a most practical and 'touching manner during the hunger years of
World War I when some of the villagers, who had much more food than the
townspeople, came to our store and gave mother a chunk of bread or some dried
beans "for SHLIOMKA's children." This
attitude of the peasants was the more remarkable in light of the generally
prevalent resort to subterfuge by the Jewish traders and to plain thievery by
the peasants. Each knew the other's propensity, as evidenced by the local
adage: "Zhid moshennik
a muzhik vor"
(The Jew is a swindler and the peasant a thief). An anecdotal illustration of
this saying is the account of a deal between a Jewish trader and a villager
for the purchase of grain at fifty kopeks per bushel. As they started filling
the sacks the trader put a shiny silver grivennik
(ten-kopek piece) into a dish for every bushel measured out, explaining
that by counting the coins later they will know how many bushels he has to pay
for. When the dish was almost full the Jew went outside, ostensibly to tend to
his horse, whereupon the peasant promptly grabbed a handful of the coins and
pocketed them, with the obvious result.
Father's
first enterprise away from the store was to travel to the large cities: Brisk,
I must say though that I do not recall father ever being so happy as during the two or three years that he was
engaged in this venture. He got along well with the loggers who liked his open
and fair way of dealing with them, and they respected him for it. He enjoyed
the invigorating air and simple life of the forest, the plain food prepared
over an open fire, and the rough companionship of the men. He kept a horse at
the time and came home every Friday afternoon to spend the Sabbath with the
family, using a two-seat carriage in summer and a sleigh in winter. He probably
took me for a ride more than once, but
I actually remember only one ride which must have eclipsed all the others. We
were coming along at a good trot when the horse suddenly let out a piercing
neigh, reared on his hind legs, veered sharply off the road and took off in a
mad gallop across a green meadow, the carriage bouncing precariously over the
hummocks, with father straining at the reins and shouting tproo,
tproo, stay, stay! --the local version of whoa! The
horse finally stopped, shivering with his entire body, frothing at the mouth, a
wild look in his eye. Father kept on making soothing sounds until the horse
completely calmed down, whereupon we proceeded, slowly, back to the road and
homeward. Father told me that the fright was caused by a snake which had
slithered across the road just in front of the horse. I am still amazed that
the carriage did not turn over or that I was not thrown out during the wild bumpy
dash through the meadow.
During
the period of father's business ventures mother operated the store by herself.
Meanwhile the family was increasing, and by the time there were four or five
youngsters neither the grandmothers nor the maid could cope with them by
themselves, so father resumed storekeeping to allow mother to devote more time
to the children. An additional factor was his disappointment with the results
of the lumber business. He resumed his travels to the large cities to buy goods
at wholesale, this time not on a commission basis but for resale. Another store
was rented, in addition to the one we owned, for storage of the bulk merchandise to be sold to
the itinerant peddlers. Mother continued working in the store whenever she
could getaway from the household chores. These were rather prosperous years for
our family, and enabled us to move from the congested quarters of grandma's
house to a spacious rented apartment of
our own.
4.
Living Quarters
For some years after my parents' marriage we lived in grandma PESHE's four room house, crowded like herring in a barrel.
Father and mother occupied one of the tiny bedrooms, the front one, in which a
wicker cradle hung by ropes from the ceiling, within reach of the rocking hand
in bed. Grandma shared an equally tiny bedroom with her youngest daughter SOREH
and one or two of my siblings. Her two older daughters, HENYE and TSINE, slept
in the parlour--one on the sofa and the other one on chairs pushed together to
form a bunk. My uncle YISROEL and I slept on similarly improvised bunks in the
living room / kitchen during the cold seasons, and in a contraption called shlofbank, actually a storage chest which
could be converted into a double bed when the drawer was pulled out, which was
located in the unheated pantry and was usable for sleeping only in the summer.
I was still too small at the time to stay awake until the grownups were ready
for bed, so in the winter I used to fall asleep in one of the bedrooms, and was
carried to my place in the kitchen when everybody was ready to retire for the
night.
The front bedroom had not always been occupied by my parents. When I was
still about two or three years old and living with grandma
FREIDE LEIE, that room was inhabited by a corpulent elderly gentleman whom
everybody called "der alte
FROIM MEIR"--the old FROIM MEIR, and who in my memory always wears a
tight-fitting red velvet vest, on embroidered skullcap and soft house slippers.
He apparently paid a good rental, because he had the use of the parlour too
during the daytime. Although 1 was forbidden to disturb him, it did not prevent
me from barging in on him quite regularly,
especially when he was "chopping" sugar. I had the impression that
his sole occupation was to drink tea all day long, filling glass after glass of
hot water from the steaming samovar that grandma brought in to him into the parlour.
His sugar came in enormous cone-shaped loaves which he used to break up into
small bite-size pieces with the aid of a "sugar chopper," consisting
of a heavy board to which one long blade was rigidly attached sharp side up
while another blade, with its sharp side down, was hinged at one end and would
swing down to meet the other blade and cut the sugar placed between them. This
fascinating operation always drew me into the parlour, sometimes to be
unceremoniously chased out, but more often to be greeted with "kum aher yungatch"
( come here little rascal ) and be rewarded with a piece of sugar
which promptly went into my mouth.
Incidentally, I do not recall ever seeing granulated sugar in Shershev, and tea was never sweetened by melting sugar in
the glass, except for very young children. The usual method was to drink tea v'prikusku, that is, by placing a small lump
of sugar in the mouth and taking sips of tea which was sweetened by contact
with it in passing from lips to throat. This was more economical, and only
gluttons "wasted" sugar by melting the lumps inside the glass.
In his youth FROIM MEIR served in the Tsarist army, and remained loyal enough
to cooperate with the Russians during the last Polish uprising in 1863, for
which the insurgents put a price on his head. He hid out in a disused well for
several weeks, but one of his sons was killed by the Poles in revenge. After
the bloody suppression of the rebellion he was rewarded by the government with
the monopoly to brew beer, which made him a rich man. Despite the good rent he
was paying he was requested to vacate the front bedroom, which was then
occupied by my parents, thus relieving somewhat the congestion. But I was the
greatest beneficiary of the change-over, having found a treasure underneath his
bed: two boxes stuffed full with tinfoil from the countless packages of tea he
had consumed during the years, plus one real honest-to-goodness epaulet,
complete with yellow fringes. The epaulet immediately elevated me to the rank
of general among my playmates, and the shiny little wrappers were fashioned
into silver buttons and medals to be worn as a complement to the epaulet, and
to be awarded to my friends for loyal service and good conduct. No wonder I
remember old FROIM MEIR so well! One thing, however, I never found out--where
my parents slept while he still occupied the front bedroom.
There was a lot of excitement in connection with our moving from Bobbe PESHE's house to the new
apartment about four houses away. Though we hardly had any furniture of our
own, there was enough accumulated stuff to keep everybody busy for several
days, since the moving was done by hand due to the proximity of the two houses.
All relatives came to help, and I even enlisted some of my playmates to carry
pots, pans, and similar unbreakable things we could be entrusted with. On one
of his trips to some large city a few weeks previously father bought new
furniture, and when it arrived from the nearest railroad station, piled up high
on two peasant wagons, half of the town came to inspect and admire the
"modern" style, the fine fabric covering the sofa, and especially the
chandelier with its translucent glass baubles hanging from the ceiling. What
impressed me most and intrigued me were the bentwood chairs, known as Wiener
(Viennese)--I just could not get over the wonder of long sticks of hard wood
having been twisted into circular shapes without being broken.
5.
The Authorities
During this relatively prosperous period father's standing in the community,
already quite high, was further enhanced by his appointment to the
position--unpaid-of Kazionny Ravvin : official registrar
of births, deaths and marriages among the Jewish population. His Russian had
considerably improved, and he developed a cordial relationship with the
"authorities." These comprised the Pristav, who was Chief of Police;
his assistant;, the Uryadnik;
and the two Strazhniki (policemen) whom they
commanded. He was also friendly with the Russian Orthodox priest and other
members of the local gentry, including the pisar, who
was the official protocol writer. This was an important position, since any
application, complaint or similar document had to be written in nice legible
handwriting on specially stamped government paper which was taxed per sheet and
was a good source of revenue. All such documents had to be in prescribed form
of address, paragraph, margin and language. It was most important to know what
title to give the official to whom the document was addressed: His Honor or High Honor; Excellency
or High Excellency; and even His Grace to a very exalted personage. Any
misstatement of title or the omission of the "High" was often cause for summary rejection of an application or petition.
It also was not safe to resort to flattery by giving a "High" to
someone not entitled to it because it might be resented by his superior if the
case had to be reviewed by the latter. The pisar,
therefore, though of very low rank, played a prominent part in the dealings of
the people with the officialdom.
All these
notables were customers in our store, and we carried certain products such as fancy bonbons and biscuits, chocolates,
sardines and sprats in tins, special teas, and similar luxury items just for
them, because no one else could afford them. Unlike ordinary mortals they often
bought on credit and sometimes ran up considerable bills, presenting a problem
if they did not pay within a reasonable time. Sending dunning notices was out of
the question, so a propitious opportunity had to be found for a gentle
reminder, which usually brought a settlement of the account. One of the favourable
aspects of dealing with them was the absence of bargaining--to do so was below
their dignity, and they also knew that they were not being overcharged,
I recall the feeling of awe that overcame me when father took me with
him during Passover to present the Pristav with some matzoth, a flask of
red wine, and Passover cake, all in a basket covered with a white cloth, Few
Jews were granted the honour of being received by the Pristav at his
home; and while the gift was a sign of respect and friendship, I strongly
suspect that a twenty-five-ruble banknote somehow got
mixed in among the matzoth, to make them even more palatable. To render
"gifts" to official was not resented--on the contrary, the feeling
was that "obi er nemt"
(so long as he takes) things will not be too bad.
And speaking of matzoth, whenever Jewish boys ventured into the gentile neighbourhood
during Passover they always carried some matzo in their pockets to give to the
gentile boys who would sing out: "Zhid,
Zhid, day matzu!"
(Jew, Jew, give some matzal) The poor gentiles
ate mostly the excellent, but coarse, black peasant bread, and savoured matzo
as a rare delicacy. The term "Zhid" used by
them was not offensive since it just means "Jew" in Goyish and Polish, but it is derogatory when used by
literate Russians, the proper term for Jew being "Yevrey" in that
language.