4

In such surroundings, my young mind was busily engaged in the learning of Hebrew, lord and religion. I was making good progress in the study of the Talmud and father tried to get the best Hebrew teachers available while they were anxious to have me in their classrooms. everybody surely thought I'll be a rabbi someday. but most of all, my father thought of this and being himself a very pious man, at that time, he thought it best to educate and influence me in that direction by adhering to king Solomon's rule not to spare the rod. so, although I was his eldest and only son, he kept me in such strict so called obedience that I was afraid to speak aloud in his presence and when I wished for something, I had to tell it to mother in a whisper in order to get it.

I recalled two incidents which let a scar on my psyche and its a lesson to me how a child. is a subtle instrument for the most sensitive feelings which are impressed and recalled in later years. I came from "cheider" one day, and mama was busy washing in the backyard. I was in good spirits so I felt like playing with mother. I proceeded steadfastly from the back of her and embraced her with my arms thereby closing her eyes and putting her at a guess as to who it was. she got a bit nervous and shouted in a rather higher tone which attracted the musical ear of my father and after learning what was the matter, he gave me an obedient ear not to fool with mother. but it certainly hurt my young being by such punishment for having a little fun with my mama.

The second incident still hurts me up to the present day. mother was away on a business tour for a few days. while I was looking around the fire place, I found a few odd coins which mother happened to stick away at one time or another. I was inbilant with my treasure and not being able to keep it to myself, I ran into a neighbor where there was a young girl of unsober character and was boasting with my find. there upon which the girl ran into My father and complained that I stole the money from her window sill. it didn't help any explanations on my part, I had to give her the money and after I was beaten for a half an hour with hand and strap for denying my guilt, I had to confess to a crime which I didn't commit in order to avoid further torture. that's the third degree methods. I was glad of my vindication when mother returned and admitted having placed some change around the firehearth. an ill feeling of unjust treatment was left on my spirit up to the present day.

At one time, we lived with a butcher in whose yard, a pious killer would come and perform the ceremonious slaughtering of young calves, sheep, goats etc... After that operation, the butcher would skin the bodies and hang it on lines as for an airing. That scene must have impressed me immensely so I tried to reenact it. One day I gave the household a big surprise by giving chase with knife in hand after the cat, she jumped on the chimney and I after her, I almost got my victim when my Father trailing behind me with strap in hand caught me in the nick of time, snatching the knife from my hand, thereby preventing the ritual of a slaughtered cat.

I don't remember how many days my hinder parts ached from the bashes Father unsparingly wielded but I know I have a contempt for the feline family since that time. Sometimes I am vindicating Father that he is not all to blame for having adhered to active treatment in his pedagological course, it was the same kind of treatment he was accorded being left an orphan and given over in the apprenticeship of masters whose only method of teaching was force and coercion.And so I recall seeing an apprentice sitting on the corner of our house in the wake of night, rubbing tinware, polishing it piece by piece with a rag, gradually slipping in a snooze when suddenly Father appeared on the scene and snapping his fingers on the poor ladÕs nose that made him see stars and rouse him into wakefulness and diligent work. Those were the emulations of similar treatment accorded him by his employers.

5

Natural Gifts

Mother was a bit of a healer as they used to say: if she put her hand against any pain, she takes it away as by magic. So, I recall seeing women bring their children for mother to forewear an evil eye; one patient coming from a village with aching teeth and mother chanting some mysterious words, soothing the pain away with her hand and spitting three times on the floor and in the face to drive the devillish ache out of the teeth. Then she was handed some sort of a gift like a package of tea or sugar for it wasn't taken as a professional service but as an act of charitable friendship.

By the same token and on my own merits I was considered in possession of some healing properties being the third in lineage of first born sons. So elderly men with aching backs would lie down on the threshold of our house and I would cautiously step out and over them and that was supposed to bring them relief.

Things and subjects lingering in my occiput

6

About Town

On the corner of our block, there stood the fire house. A big white goat with twisted horns and patriarchal beard mascotly lounging on its lawn. An Eiffel Tower soaring up high above town and a guard parading on its platform day and night to spy any conflagration. When any semblance of a fire was in the offing, an alarm was sounded down below and picked up by the scores of church bells all over town. The peal and dive was deafening and the citizenry was in a state of confusion. Children and adults were running and bustling in all but no particular directions, inquiring where the fire was, though no one knew. The fear of flames in such a town is comprehensible where we know that most of the shanties and shacks are built of wood and straw and the least wind spreads it like wild fire, hence the agitation and anxiety.

Passing the fire house to the left was a measly boulevard with some skimpy brush wood, instead of trees and two rows of benches where the youths of the town were seated, mainly on the Sabbath Day, and watched the strollers if anything was newly worn on parade. There also was a bit of gossipy chat enjoyed by the elders. At its close, there was a square which might be termed a park, with large trees and music filtering through them occasionally, coming from a casino which was the theatre house, movie, temple reception hall and what not. But to that park you had to pay an admission fee. Naturally it was not admissible to the commoners.

On the right side of the fire house were a row of square bazaars. There was the general marketplace where the moujiks used to bring their farm products twice a week. A swarm of hawkers would besiege them, feel their cargoes, offer prices, haggle, bargain. Some peasant women would bring their wares in the fold of their bosoms, then the handlers would dig their hand right into it, pull out the merchandise and make a bargain. On that bazaar, beggars of every description, demanded as much attention as their traders.

Branching out on one end was the horse mart, where plenty of stolen horses were bought and sold and exchanged. I cannot forget the little incident when Father returned one evening from an out of town fair with his tinware. The moujik unspanned the team in back of the house and left them there. He was given shelter in the house and with the break of day he went out to feed his horses. But alas, he did not find them there. He returned moaningly shaking with nervous fright. Hostess, dear, the horses are gone They were his sole pride and estate. All his cries and police investigations proved futile. The horses were gone.

On another end of the bazaar was the pottery square running into The dairy market. My vision brings back to me the ice cream hawker on a summer's day carrying his tub of cream on his head, balancing it masterfully and crying on the top of his lungs, sugared ice cream, which we, Jewish children, didn't know what it meant as it was only a confection fox the wealthy and not for a Jew as it wasn't considered kosher. It was just a tubful of inquisitiveness and admiration for the art of head jugglery. Another spot of craving and admiration was a seller with undomesticated fruits like oranges, fancy pears and the like. This was a place of luxury an everyday Jew could not even dream of. Then there was the butcher section with a flock of roaming dogs standing about ten to one meat shoppers.

Taking the firehouse as the center point, on one angle starts the Bath Street where the sweat bath of the town is located. That was the most dreaded place where Father would take me on Fridays. Upon entering we would get an army pail, a common piece of soap and a fagot of roots for our five kopecks. The very heat inside the sweat temple that enveloped me upon entering was shocking me but beginning with the preliminary works, like soaping up each other's back and rinsing it, it was bearable. Though I didn't like the head washing part, when the soap suds got into my eyes the din and noise was stunning and the vapor blinding but what I dreaded most was the sweating balcony. It always gave me a picture of hell as a form of punishment for the sinners. It was a staircased balcony with the heat ascending at the very top. After Father's descent from the very clouds of steam burning on high, he would take me by one hand, a pail of cold water in the other hand, and lead me on. I used to feel like Isaac when Abraham was to bring him as a sacrifice on the altar. Gradually we would ascend several steps, Father insisting we should go higher and higher and there I would lie down at his mercy, he shaking the fagot of roots, promoting heat coming down on my back, on my chest, spanking my whole body while I was clinging to the pail of cold water. Higher above me, I would hear devilish voices KIRILLA, SEND UP MORE STEAM! Kirilla was the devil in charge of heat promotion. There was a pile of flaming stones down on the earth, and now and then he would pour a pailful of hot water over them, sending up hellish heat at the very top. This ordeal was to give one a thorough cleansing, which it sure did and was supposed to have a healing effect on your system.

However, I felt much more at ease when I was off the inquisition gallery and the peak of comfort and delight was when we descended to the underground pool where we plunged and took a refreshing duck.

Going home, everybody takes the bundle of roots to sweep the house with. Meeting any and all neighbors on the way, they wish you "good health and a healing effect on your system".

7

High Moments in a Drab Childhood

A Jewish boy in a small burg had to spend his time in learning Talmudic lawa that is quibble in the most intricated quaint problems of the past and future, and in prayer. Play was an unnecessary part in the present tense. But youth must have play just as important as spirit and industry, so we had to steal the chance for it. One occasion was the appearance of an organ grinder in company with a drum dancer or some other freak. If I was off duty on some pretext than in company with other lads, I would follow the merry makers all over town until exhausted. When a circus was in town we'd try persistently to steal a peep under the canvas as the admission fee was in the stage of desire.

A great moment was when a cantor would come to town with a choir, then the synagogue was packed and if I chanced to gain entrance, I was one of the lucky select. The singing impressed me immensely, especially the small choir members. They seemed to me like little singing angels.

On a regular Saturday afternoon, it was one of the pastimes to take a stroll to the railroad station on the outskirts of the town that was recently installed and watch the train arrive with a cargo of passengersgentile to be sure, for no Jew would venture to ride on the Sabbath Dayand even the advent of the freight train was of interest once it had a puffing engine in front of it that commanded respect and admiration. Though a small hack, it had its slum where the poorest of the poor lived there, were the rag pickers dumb and obstreperous and it had some magnetic interest for slumming.

Going from "Hebrew" on a wintery night with a hand-made paper lantern lit by a tallow candle in one hand and a cigarette stealthily puffed at from within the sleeve of the other and is no recollection of small consequence. The cigarettes were supplied by the prosperous son of the miller in exchange for a helping at the clumsy passages of the Talmud. On a dark, cold night it was a sporting boon and delight, save a few weeks before X-Mas when Christian youths would march through the night with star-shaped icons with light and song, then a Jewish soul was in fear of assault and abuse. I would not dare light my lantern. So hastily I would sleep my way through the darkness of the night.

Every year, before Easter, there was a seasonal commotion in town. Every other house was converted into a bakery to bake matzos. Our house was one of them. Several neighbors would get together and cooperatively engage in the concoction of the unleavened bread. Mandel the Shoemaker would turn into a dough mixer while tailor apprentices were rolling it into flat pancake leaves. Reb Zaale the Blacksmith took charge of the oven, handling the matzos with the experience of blower and anvil. My function was to run a hand roller across each matzo leaf, putting perforation lines across it, making sure that it will stay put and will not rise to any fluffy growth. This task was a semi-holy engagement and every one had a kick out of it.

On the holiday proper, the nut games with the sporting events consuming the youthful energy. Every synagogue court was a playground for nuts for the young generation. But the older folk played at home. I visualize a whole group surrounding our table with Father at the head, busily engaged with a hatful of walnuts rolling it trying to bring out odds or evens according to suit. During those hours, one and all forgot their hard lives and measly struggles for existence.

One comical incident I cannot forget: while going from “Cheider” one day for my lunch and crossing the bazaar in company with other boys I stumbled over a wallet which I hastily picked up and upon shaking it I heard coins jingle in it, so I readily gave chase, leaving my pursuing comrades behind me. I fell on the threshold of our house most excitedly and Mother didn’t know what happened until I stammered nervously ”I FFFOUND MMMMONEY! Mother inquisitively opened the wallet and dug out from within its depths eighteen and a half kopecs in solid copper coins. I must have lost strength three times its worth. But the fun of it was when I returned to Hebrew and in marched the other boys with a host of mothers and sisters demanding a share of my treasurous find./ The boys saw me pick it up and are entitled to their wack was their just demand. It took quite a bit of persuasion to turn thickheadedness into laughter and doubtful hope into childish ecstasy.

And how can I skip my childest romantic idol, Little Bell, the daughter of Mandel the Shoemaker. She was a slim young dame with slender bodice and long chin, red cheeks and smiling dimples. She was attending a Russian school that is more modern while I belonged to a conservative world, but her mother hoped and wished to have me as a son-in-law thereby invoking romantic bliss in our youthful minds only to be blasted in later years.

8

RELATION NEAR AND DEAR MY GOOD AUNT MINNIE

Thru the haze of time I see her as an elderly virgin working in rich homes bringing confections for us children and helping father alternately with lump sums and troubles. A quiet gentle soul, reserved, unflirtatious. She had to wait for her match until Hillel, the son of the cemetery care-taker returned from the province and espoused her. He was a ripe man in the forties and made an excellent cabby and a perfect mate. Being childless they were very fond of each other. Later he took father's place at the grave-digging and he had a fixed easy berth. That gave me occasion to visit the cemetery and roam about the tomb-stones, every now and then witnessing a funeral and interment.

By way of contrast, I remember the wedding of uncle's sister, a maiden unfair and rather cumbrous on the family. It was a prize to rid of her so her marriage was celebrated with pomp and glory, for seven days, with music and hilarity in the air, as if, to spite the dead but before the expiration of the week, the groom absconded in the thick of night and dug a grave in a woman's heart as an extension to the surroundings. Fate, unreasonable as it is, was very cruel to my poor Aunt. Uncle Hillel, being so near the great beyond, found it very convenient to cross the border and left Aunt Minnie in the clutches of want and seclusion. Our family, being her nearest kin, departed for the Golden Land, while she was left in gloom and doomed to misfortune. For in later years we learned that she decided to fly, crushed a little kitten in a doorway and that affected her tender nerves causing death from a nervous breakdown.

UNCLE JACOB MOSES

Crossing a fence on the rear and where the bottom planks were reaped off and many a cow caused controversy on one side or the other, was another court-yard with a set of tenants chief in importance of which was my great uncle Reb J. M. with his fifty-year old tinsmith shop where my father learned his craftsmanship and later alternately competed and cooperated with him in the artisanry of starvation. He had a houseful of mouths to feed that were increased yearly but he spanned their limbs in team-work and all had to share responsibility. He believed in equal suffrage so he put his girls to the same tasks as the sons. They pounded with mallets on the tin sheetings and wielding red hot soldering irons to join same in unleaky receptacles. All were engaged in carting the wares to market where they had a stand put up twice a week and likewise returning it home.

From that house, in later years, fate provided me with a diligent mate that still helps me to pull the yoke of a burdensome life. Uncle's daddy and my great grandfather, Reb Leizer, a stalwart octogenarian, always sulky and grumbling within his beard divided his time between haggling with the peasants for farm products use--pig bristles, honey and the like; or else spent it nursing with grouchy caresses, the children in the one-room apartment and taking care of a consumptive nanny-goat.

HANNAH THE NOSELESS

Several hand-spans from that court, over a parapet, there lived Reb Berel, the Tenter (his ancestors had something to do with tents. Either lived in them upon arriving in the town or engaged in making it, hence the name) with a houseful of women. His was a tragical life conveniently adapted to a circumstance and blended into content and seeming harmony. And the story runs thus: When Reb Berel was a young man, he was very handsome, refined and of good stock. So he was acquainted and matched with my grandmother who was very beautiful and also of a higher level of stratum.

All were ready for a blissful wedding. The canopy was unfolded, set to unite a magnetic couple for a life-time. And here we come to the perplexing point. Grandma had a cousin, a girl of same age and stature but the God's were cruel to her and robbed her of the one solitary nose and swerved her mouth rather perpendicularly. She was exceptionally bright as a sort of reimbursement for her deficiencies but to find her a mate was a problem of no mean proportion. But, the same Gods decreed that no Jewish gal shall remain in spinsterhood so at the last moment when grandma was to be delivered in espousal to Berel, under cover of the veil, some mysterious providence ushered in her noseless cousin under the canopy instead and Berel was tied hand and foot, by the grace of God to Hannah, the noseless one and they lived ever happily unto old age. Hannah steered him by her wits and brought him a houseful of sons, all sturdy, aquiline, and resolute.

Every once on a Sabbath Day, mother would take me on a visit to Hannah to listen to her sage conversement. Her favorite phrase would be:--"Nobody can lead me by the nose--I haven't got it."

MY GREAT-AUNT RIBAH

Every once in a while when I was eager for a "nosh", I would pay a visit our Aunt Rebecca on the hillside by the church. She was an elderly widow engaged in the manufacture and distribution of putty. She lived in a shanty with a big truck-garden in front it and fruit-trees in the rear. (Not to make a wrong impression, let me explain that all this did not belong to her. She was only a tenant. Upon leaving, one was sure to be treated with pickled apples, ah so good and big hard pears or pumpkin seeds. And where did I get that chunk of putty to play with? But what makes me remember that spot most is; a little scene play that appeals so much to our imagination. I see a young Russ in the garden with a middle-aged matron grapple and wrestle and then roll on the ground tearing at each other-a scene we were not used to seeing in our modest homes.

9

THE TOWN NUTS

Like every other town and burg in Russia, Starodoub had its set of nuts, half-wits and cranks deserving of assemblage into a gallery and I shall endeavor to bring them back as I remember them from recollection. The first pair deserving of fame was Litman and Longotz, a unique pair who were the protégés of an eccentric baron and the laugh of the town. One was an adventurous type, in on every sort of prank for the fun of it while the other one was a meek piece of dough ready to be kneaded in any shape and manner as long as a coin was stuck in his hand. Paruchik, their master was a feudal baron satiated with life and too much time on his hands seeking odd and sensational excitement about him. So on more than one occasion the trio would be seen together in one pose or another bringing forth peals of laughter and merriment. At one time they would be dressed up in white seated in an open barouche drawn majestically by a span of three horses with a groomed driver chasing them about town. At another time he would make them raise ear-locks for months dress them up in black rabbinical clothes and parade or ride around with them, or else make photos of the trio and have it well exhibited. One of his hobbies was to put them in a horse trough, covered with oats and let the horses eat over and above their heads. Another pastime of his was to fillip their noses and pay so much for every suck.

ISAAC, THE GALL

Another figure of renown was Isaac, The Gall. He was a quiet man with whom the children had lots of fun. I'll never forget him unto death for he was the first corpse I ever witnessed. I was passing the poor-house one day and saw a crowd loitering by the door so in I walked to satisfy my curiosity and of a sudden I saw Isaac, all stripped, whom we were used to seeing crouched up in rags, standing erect, held by two men and pail after pail of water spilled over his head. That was the cleansing rites administered to the dead. Then he was hurriedly shrouded, put on a carrier and with more haste dispatched to the cemetery. On his way, when an inquisitive burghes of means inquired who died, though everyone knew him, he wasn't given even the honor of identity but just brushed away into obscurity with "O a vagrant pauper died." That was the end of Isaac, The Gall.

*********************

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