Table of Contents
PART ONE
OLD ROOTS
PART TWO
DERACINATION
PART THREE
TRANSPLANTATION
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By: Jacob Auerbach
Copyright @ 1992- Jacob Auerbach, Long Beach, N.Y.CHAPTER
EIGHT PEOPLE
OF THE BOOK
P. 90 - 102
l.
Brest Litovsk
The inclusion of my parents in the category of those who
could "afford" to send a child to study in another city was an overstatement
-- "manage" would have been a more appropriate term. I doubt if my father,
despite his epithet "Shleime der kremer", would have been able to cover the
full cost of my study and residence away from home were it not for the
generosity of my mother's sister Henye and her husband Osher Kagan, who
lived in Brest Litovsk and graciously offered to take me in as a member of
their family.
Brest Litovsk, called Brisk in Yiddish, was then an important
garrison city of fifty thousand inhabitants, about half of them Jews.
Situated on the river Bug (Boog), a tributary of the Vistula, it was an
industrial, commercial and shipping center, as well as a key railroad and
highway junction. The city was a military stronghold, and its fortress was
considered by the Russians strong enough to withstand the onslaught of any
enemy from the West.
Brest had three formal boys' schools: a Gymnasia (Gymnasium);
Realnoye Uchilishche (Science High School); and the Yevreyskoye Uchilishche
Tamarina (Tamarin Jewish School). The first two were subsidized by the
government and were practically out of bounds for me, because of the ardent
competition for the few places available for Jewish students. It was rumored
that without a substantial "gratuity" no Jewish boy could gain admission,
regardless of his accomplishments. Consequently, after successfully passing
the entrance examinations I was enrolled in the Tamarin school as a third
year student, thanks to my studies with Zhuk. This school, though fully
accredited, received no government subsidy and was maintained by the Jewish
community. Though admission was open to all, the enrollment was almost one
hundred percent Jewish ,since the gentile boys had no problem other than
scholarship in entering the other schools which, needless to say, were
considered much more prestigious. The city also had a Gymnasium for girls,
attended mostly by the daughters of the large number of garrison officers,
the higher police, railroad and administrative officials, and the local
gentry.
2. The Big City
Brisk opened new vistas for me. I will never forget that first train ride,
accompanied by my father, and the arrival at the railroad depot. We started
out in the early morning of a hot late-summer day as passengers aboard the
town's only means of transportation- a large four-wheeled wagon drawn by a
team of brown horses. It had only one bench, a hard wooden board up front
spanning the width of the wagon, serving as seat for the wagon driver and
one of the passengers, sometimes with a small child squeezed in between
them. The other passengers, as many as six or even eight, had to find room
inside on the thick layer of straw covering the bottom, sitting on their
bundles or valises and jockeying for the best position to enable them to
stretch their legs. The travelers were not
picked up at their homes, but had to trudge with their belongings to a
designated location in the market place.
For most people travel was a rare event, so family members came along to say
a last "fohr gesunt" (travel in health), and to give some final advice and
admonition. My mother, grandfather (the other one was in America),
both grandmothers, and assorted other relatives and friends were also there
to see me off-just think of it: Yankele was going away from home for the
first time in his ten-year life, to study in an "official" school in a
mysterious big city, and will not be seen for six months, until Passover,
and maybe not even then, but in June when the school year is over! Thus a
goodly crowd was gathered at the departure scene, busy with kissing,
hugging and wiping tears, the wagon driver meanwhile shouting for everybody
to get on board. Then came a concerted rush to climb into the wagon, with
bickering about places, location of luggage, and what not. Finally all
passengers were ensconced more or less comfortably, the wagon driver flicked
his whip, and the wagon began to move with a clatter of its iron-rimmed
wheels over the cobblestones, accompanied by a waving of hands and
handkerchiefs, and final shouts of good-by.
After about an hour's bone-jarring ride over the cobblestones we reached the
chaussée where the ride became much
smoother and much easier on us and on the horses. Some stops were made on
the way for refreshments, which everybody brought along, for attending to
natural functions, and much needed stretching of our cramped bodies. The
horses too were fed, watered and given a spell of rest. By late afternoon we
arrived at the nearest railroad station, Linevo, where we were to take the
train for Brisk. Father bought a third class ticket for himself and a
half-fare ticket for me, and we settled down to wait for the train in the
absence of information about the exact time of its expected arrival. It was
a long wait, at least for me, anxious to see a real locomotive pulling a
string of cars, which I theretofore saw only in book illustrations. I hung
about the rails outside hoping to catch a glimpse of the approaching
locomotive. Finally there was heard a steady rumble and we noticed a light
which became brighter and brighter, coming at us with great speed. We all
moved away from the rails for fear of being "sucked in under the wheels" as
someone warned us. Within a few minutes the engine, puffing plumes of black
smoke and pulling several cars behind if, slowly came to a halt with a
hissing and clanging. We made our way to the third class in the rear and
settled down for the trip.
Third class meant sitting on bare
wooden benches running the length of both sides of the car. Luggage was
stowed underneath the benches. A lantern at each end provided just enough
light to pick one's way through the outstretched legs and protruding bundles
in the narrow passageway. We managed to find seats, but people entering at
subsequent stops had to stand or sit on their belongings in the passage. The
passengers were a motley assortment of black-caftaned Jews with dangling
earlocks, others in European dress like ourselves, some gentile townsfolk,
and a few peasants. They were all men--women were not much given to travel
in those days.
I was keenly disappointed
that we traveled at night, having looked forward to taking in the sights on
the way, though it probably would not have been possible to see anything
anyway through the smudged and smoke- blackened windows. Tired out by the
long day's events I fell asleep leaning against father, awakening to the
comings and goings when we stopped at a station. Once during the night I was
roused while the train was in motion--a conductor in uniform, carrying a
lantern, was checking the tickets and questioning some not-so- young-looking
persons about their half-fare tickets. He was also shining his lantern
underneath the benches looking for "rabbits", the Russian term for
stowaways. He found none in our car, and I fell asleep again to be roused by
father at break of day as we were approaching our destination, Brisk.
Here I found enough to make my eyes go round. The station itself was the
biggest structure I had ever seen or even imagined. The roof, even loftier
than in our Great Synagogue at home, was supported on the inside by
crisscrossing steel girders. Tremendous plate glass windows were looking out
on the wide covered platform leading to the trains; and On the opposite side
facing a wide square where scores of cabmen lined up their elegant-looking
one-horse carriages. There were brightly lit and gaily decorated shops
inside the station, and rows of comfortable wooden benches for waiting
passengers. Outside were the hooting and puffing locomotives, the long lines
of cars clanging and bumping into each other, porters with numbered brass
plates across their chests trundling handcarts laden with trunks and
valises, and hawkers offering cards with names of hotels or lodging houses,
loudly extolling their virtues. And the crowds! Where did they all come
from? Officers in resplendent uniforms, ladies in gowns of every hue in the
rainbow and flower-bedecked hats, civilians in fine suits or frock coats
carrying silver-headed canes, all intermingled with police and railway
guards, uniformed young students, ordinary townspeople and even some
peasants. All this was beyond anything I ever imagined.
Next thing I knew we were in a
droshky, one of those cabs that were lined up in the square, luxuriating on
the soft leather seats during the ride into town. Just beyond the square we
crossed a high arched bridge from which the city could be seen spread out as
far as the horizon. We proceeded noiselessly on the rubber-rimmed wheels,
except for the clip-clop of the horse's hooves on the smooth pavement (what
a relief from the clatter of the ironbound wagon wheels at home!), along a
wide boulevard lined with shady trees through which gleaming shop
windows could be seen on both sides, the sidewalks already heavy with
pedestrian traffic despite the early hour never before had I seen such
sights.
We were warmly received by aunt
Henye and uncle Osher. They occupied an apartment on the ground floor of a
four-storied brick building, one of a group of similar buildings forming a
rectangle on all four sides of a huge cobblestone court, the entrance to
which was through an iron gate on the street side of the court. This gate
could be locked if necessary, and the entire compound gave the impression of
a prison or fortress. It may have been built that way deliberately, to
prevent entrance to undesirable elements or to provide a place of refuge
during disturbances, such as riots or pogroms. The apartment comprised an
entrance hall which also doubled as a pantry, combination kitchen / dining
room, parlor, and two bedrooms: one occupied by uncle and aunt and the other
one by their two children, a girl and a boy, together with their maid Andzia,
who was needed because aunt helped uncle out in their business. I was
assigned a sleeping place on the sofa in the parlor. There was no toilet in
the apartment, everybody using a group of communal toilets in the far corner
of the court, the waste from which flowed into a metal covered sump. Once a
month the "gold diggers" came to empty the contents, and during this
operation all doors and windows were shut tight in a rather vain effort to
keep the stench out. There was also no running water, which had to be
purchased from a man who brought it in an enormous wooden barrel on a two
wheeled horse drawn cart. These conditions were disappointing after the
glamour of the boulevard, but were more than made up for by the warmth and
kindness I found a true home away from home.
Uncle and aunt operated a specialized delicatessen store--gastronomicheskiy
magazin--patronized by the garrison officers, government officials, and
otherwise wealthy people who could afford the high price of the mostly
imported foods. Men in uniform or well-tailored civilian clothes, often
accompanied by their elegant ladies, would drive up in carriages to purchase
corned beef, salami, and small sausages, all brought in from Worsaw; cheeses
imported from Holland and Switzerland; chocolates in decorated boxes tied
with silk ribbons, called bonbonyerki, from those countries and from Vienna,
Austria; English biscuits in enameled metal tins; various kinds of canned
and smoked fish; and choice fruit in or out of season. This was as different
from our krom as day is from night, but the greatest contrast was the
absence of bargaining the customer either paid the price or asked to be
shown something else. What also surprised me was their apparent disregard of
the occasional malapropisms perpetrated by uncle or aunt, whose Russian was
far from accomplished perhaps they did not expect anything better from mere
trades people. As for me, the daily sandwich aunt prepared for my school
lunch gave me a taste of these exotic foods for the first time in my life.
Another taste of the big city's
"high life" was given me by uncle Osher's brother, a young man-about-town,
who invited me to a konditerskaya (ice cream parlor) where I was served an
enormous portion of ice cream, of several varieties, in a tall silver dish
resting on a doily covering another silver plate. That was the kind of
luxury not even imagined in Shershev, where ice cream came in only one
flavor and was sold as a small filling between two wafers for one kopek,
whereas the serving to which I was treated cost fifteen kopeks! Such
extravagance was beyond my puny allowance.
3. Student in Uniform
Upon enrollment in the Tamarin school I was fitted out
with a black uniform, complete with shiny silver buttons; and with a
military-type cap decorated with light blue piping and a silver badge of the
school's coat of arms above the gleaming black visor. I was as proud as a
peacock when I strutted down the street in this getup, especially so when I
returned home for the holidays and was admired openly by grownups and boys;
and what was more important, covertly but unmistakenly by the girls. Yes, I
was already becoming quite interested in girls --after all, I was already
eleven going on twelve!
School was a serious business requiring a lot of work and application. The
schedule of courses was heavy, with plenty of homework, and the standards
were very high. We had excellent teachers, devoted to their task, but at the
same time strict and expecting their students to aim for the highest rating,
pyaterka (five), meaning excellent. The grading
system ran from one to five, and although a troyka (three) was passing, any
student receiving such grade disgraced both himself and his teacher.
And there was no way of cheating or faking. While the homework and routine
tests were marked by the teacher, the term exams were conducted by a panel
composed of the teacher of the particular subject; the education inspector;
and either the principal, department head or another high official. Each
examination consisted of a written and an
oral part. There were none of the modern multiple-choice questions, so there
was no guessing, since each question required a specific answer or
explanation.
Examples:
History: Describe the causes and results of the Crimean War;
Science: Explain why a balloon rises in the air and an iron ship
floats;
Geometry: Prove that in a right-angled triangle the square of the
hypotenuse equals the sum of the squares of the two sides;
Literature: Give a concise summary of Pushkin's "Poltava" ; and
similarly for other subjects.
The written examinations, though hard, were not too much
of a problem to the student who knew his subject--at least he had a
reasonable amount of time to consider what the correct answer should be. Not
so the oral exams--their mere setup was terrifying. Each student was called
individually into a room where the three examiners sat sternly behind a
table covered with green baize. Upon reaching the table he was told to pick
at random one of several cards lying face down on it. The card thus chosen
listed the question or topic of the test. Not only did the already tense
youngster have to respond correctly to what the card required, but had to
defend his answer against often tricky challenges of the examiners. One
really had to know his stuff to pass under such conditions, and great was
the jubilation when one received a four, not to speak of a five!
Most of the students at Tamarin had no problems with their studies. They
were a chosen lot, who thirsted for knowledge and looked upon schooling as a
privilege rather than as an onerous burden. The realization of the
difficulties encountered in getting admitted, the sacrifices their parents
were making in keeping them there, and the importance of
education to their own future was an added incentive to make them try to
succeed no matter how hard they had to work. Still, it was not all work at
school, we had diversions too. Some of the classes were quite pleasurable,
like the experiments in the science laboratory with its Bunsen burners,
colored liquids, bubbling retorts, and the captive insects or frogs. I also
liked the literature class with its poetry recitals, and the Ancient
History class. I always was, and still am, fascinated by theories and facts
relating to ancient peoples and the events that shaped their lives thousands
of years ago, especially if they throw some light on my own distant
forebears, the ancient Hebrews. But my special delight was the music hour.
The teacher, a gaunt white-haired man named Ralbe, taught us patriotic and
religious hymns and folk songs, assigning to the boys the soprano and alto
parts and himself providing the bass, while at the same time beautifully
playing a small harmonium. These sessions were so enjoyable that I learned
the melodies of all the three parts, and can still sing them after the
passage of more than sixty years.
There were no sports activities in the school its function was education,
not recreation. The only time we had for physical activity was during the
lunch hour, when we engaged in snowball fights, wrestling and general
horseplay in the large school yard. We also played pranks not only on each
other, but even on unpopular teachers. One of our favorite butts
was a young woman who taught German. That was one subject no one liked, what
with the boring syntax and the interminable sentences with their clauses,
subclauses, and sub- subclauses. We could not blame her for that, but she
was quite pedantic and totally uninspiring. I think though that we picked on
her mainly because she was the only woman
teacher in the school and felt unsure of herself among the men and boys. We
sensed this weakness, and callously took advantage of it to make her life
miserable. We wrote nasty things on the blackboard, broke the points on her
sharpened pencils which had to be resharpened by penknife in the absence of
mechanical pencil sharpeners, threw spitballs when she turned her back, and
similar schoolboy pranks. With insensitivity often found in
youngsters we perversely enjoyed her discomfiture, until a final cruel act
perpetrated by some of the boys made us all feel guilty and ashamed. On a
bitter winter day her overcoat was taken outside, its sleeves doused with
water which did not take long to freeze solid, and then returned to its
place just before the final bell. This apparently was the last straw,
for the poor girl did not show up in class the following day. An
investigation was started, with prospects of severe punishment, but the
results are unknown to me because an accident shortly thereafter put an end
to my attendance at that school.
4.
End of an Epoch
Upon returning from school one winter
afternoon I wanted to heat some tea on a portable benzene stove, and finding
the chamber empty proceeded to refill it from a bottle. I had done this many
times before without any untoward incident, but this time as I struck the
match there was an explosion and flaming liquid squirted over me and on some
of the
kitchen things. I remember seeing the window curtains aflame and realizing
that my own clothes were on fire. The thought of the danger to my two little
cousins who were in the next room flashed through my mind, so I ran in the
opposite direction, through the entrance hall and out into the court. The
next memory is of my waking up, trying to open
my eyes, and hearing my aunt's voice lamenting: "Oy, how will I face my
sister? What will I say to her? Woe is me, I did not take care of her
child!" As I stirred and tried to say something, someone exclaimed: "He is
awake! He is coming to!" There ensued some commotion, but I apparently
lapsed into unconsciousness again. because I remember
nothing else. I was subsequently told that as I ran outside blazing like a
torch, a man smothered me with his overcoat and put out the fire. I do
remember overhearing a doctor, sometime later, saying that my life was no
longer in danger, but that he could not yet tell how much my eyesight was
damaged. By that time I already knew that my face and left
hand were badly burned my lips were so swollen that they had to feed me
through a tube, and my eyelids were pasted together and heavy like lead.
After a while, as the bandages were being changed, pinpoints of light began
penetrating and before long I began seeing other things through the chinks
which were gradually opening wider and wider. When the doctor finally
pronounced that my sight will be restored my aunt's joy had no bounds. She
laughed and cried at the same time, would not let go of my good hand which
she covered with kisses, and kept on repeating: "Oy G-otenyu, hartziker
Tatenyu, ikh dank Dir un leib
Dir far Dein gnod!" (Oh dearest G-d, heartiest Father, I thank Thee and
extoll Thee for Thy mercy!) I was greatly relieved to learn that the
children suffered nothing more than fright, and that the damage to the
kitchen was minimal. The only permanent harm to me was a burn scar on my
left wrist, which I still bear. I was apparently saved from worse
injury, possibly from death, by the heavy uniform with its high stiff collar
and the
cap visor which I was still
wearing at the time of the accident; but alas! . . . My beautiful uniform
was completely ruined.
The accident happened during the winter of 1914 - 1915. By the time I
completely recovered the second school term was well advanced, and
additionally my parents insisted that I come home and take a long rest. So I
returned to Shershev, hoping to resume my studies in September. But World
War I had erupted in 1914, the Germans were advancing, and occupied our town
during the summer of 1915, putting an end forever to life as it was. Since
Brisk was a fortified city and was expected to be defended at all costs by
the Russians, the civilian population was evacuated in order not to hamper
the army in its operations. It was hoped that the fortress would withstand a
long siege and thus stem the enemy's advance, but this turned out to be a
vain hope indeed.
My uncle and aunt with their children were transported to Nizhni Novgorod,
now known as Gorki, with only the clothes on their backs and whatever they
could carry with them on the train. I never saw them again because after the
war was over our town fell to Poland, and a hostile border separated the two
countries. During the nineteen twenties and thirties we received letters
from them containing guarded hints about the miserable life they were
leading. Then the letters ceased, apparently out of fear of the Stalinist
terror. After the Second World War sporadic correspondence was resumed, and
we learned that their younger son, Gerya, born in Gorki, was killed while
fighting with the Red Army against the German invaders. Remembering my
aunt's grief over my accident, I could well imagine how stricken she must
have been at the loss of her young son, and my heart was full of sorrow for
her and uncle. Within a few years we received word of uncle's death, and not
long thereafter of the death of my beloved aunt, who treated me like a
mother when I lived at her home. My parents were already in the United
States, and we made various attempts to maintain contact with the two
surviving children, Rosa and Nahum. We offered to send them packages of food
and clothing, but they answered that they were not in need of anything, and
made it quite plain that it would be better for them not to receive mail
from the United States. The reason was left to our imagination.
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