PART II

THE GOLDEN LAND

1

AMERICA

The land of hope and vague prospects was a rumor in the provincial towns about 40 years ago. Some looked up to it as the land of chance and adventure; others with skepticism as the ungodly land where you have to sacrifice your religion for dollars and cents.

One of the adventurous ones was my father. After toiling for days and nights for so many years and not having enough bread for the family, he resolved to make a change and quickly realized it by taking his best shoe-maker friend along and leaving for the land of opportunity. It didn't take very long and we received some money for our support and maintenance although we didn't get encouraging letters from the prospective land, the reason for it being that he was green and observing the Sabbath Day, he had to work hard for very small pay. He was repeatedly writing of returning to the "homeland" until one day we received a letter to that effect--that he bought a steamship ticket and was returning to his native city. I was just about getting my confirmation (Bar Mitzvah) and my Rabbi studied with me a high talmudic, cyclone speech that would be a knock-out; make a hit with my father and bring joy to my mother with their learned son. But alas! I was stuck with my speech. An American magnet drew back my fathers will of resolution and made him change his mind of returning to the old country. We were a bit downcast but inflated with high hopes again coming over some day to the golden land.

We had to give up our spacious abode and move to a small alcove hired from a town where was a tailorshop and bakery combined. Four overgrown maidens busied themselves with dough and bread loaves while an old father, terribly pious and always chanting, did the sowing. It was a busy house, day and night. With all the labors of a day at an end--and a day we called bordering night at midnight--the old man would rise, engage in prayer, light a big samovar, consume its boiling water with a sprinkling of tea-leaves, most rigorously, unsweetened, for sugar was too much of a luxury and by morn when the family would rise, the samovar was put up once again and the old gent would participate once more in the consummation of the boiling water with the rest of the household. I still remember the girls boudoir in the hallway-where they chalked their face instead of powder and washed their heads with kerosene for cleansing and glossy purpose.

2

AWAY FROM MOTHERS APRON

Mother found it advisable to take me to another city of learning where I joined a Hebrew Academy. She brought me to her relation and acquaintances and arranged for my daily board. I was eating seven "days" a week from seven different tables, the custom of Talmudic scholars. My recollection takes me back to those days:

FRIDAY AND SATURDAY

I stayed with a cousin of my mother. Those were the best days of the week, where I felt at home and slept over, though on the floor but comfortable. Friday's lunch with holly and fish was smacking of Sabbath. Saturday afternoon the boys in the house had fun and played all sorts of pranks. The house was on a highway and they'd stop a passing moujik driving his horse and wagon with their yells--Hey, Mister, your wheel dreitzach (turns). The peasant would leave his seat, examine his wheels, wonder what's the matter with it while not seeing anything wrong in particular and the boys looked on and giggled in their sleeves. In that house was a master craftsman, a glass engraver. The finest glassware he would decorate with exquisite designs. But the fun of it was that while working on his grinding machine he would sing and accompany himself with undertones emanating from under his seat, keeping time and cadences in staccato and largheto. This same artist was a terrible drunkard. Every now and then, he would go out on a spree and come back without shoes nor clothes, hocking everything to Bacchus.

SUNDAY

was another good "day" in a rich home. Plenty of food ungrudgingly. On one feast-day, on Hanukah, I ate so many pancakes I was sick for a week. The place was in an alley and one night while walking in the dark, a pig was trailing me, imaginary or real but it gave me the scare of my life and for years I formed the habit of fearsome observance over the shoulder, turning my head habitually in that direction.

MONDAY

I fared with a second cousin who was a combination barber and watchmaker. That was a house of "moderns" where mother and daughter smoked and that looked to me rather outlandish.

TUESDAY

was a poor "day". I boarded with a cobbler where the rations were meager and mad meat was dished out by way of hand, for tableware was scarce.

WEDNESDAY

I fared with another cousin, a hat and cap maker where I delighted seeing a variety of hats turned out. There was an attractive daughter and in a hand-of-sleight fashion she aroused a sigh of admiration in my lonely heart.

THURSDAY

was a bleak day on the remote outskirts of the city and so is remotely stamped on my memory. The life in the academy was rather boring for my mind was not set on a spiritual career. The undomesticated surroundings were hard on me after leaving Mother's apron. I had to sleep on the hard synagogual benches, lulled by the drones of the scholarly students who engaged in the talmudic studies till the late morning hours by the powerful light of a tallow candle.

MY MOMENT OF JOY

was when the vocal set from the students would assemble near the fireside and render famous pieces, sung by renowned cantors in solo or by choir then I was elevated in a higher world. So much so that while standing with my back towards the hearth, one evening and listening rapturously to a choral rendition, my trousers caught fire and the super burnt his hands while pulling the smoldering shreds asunder. My mind was filled with dreams of the golden land and not making much progress in my studies, I left for home.

3

ADRIFT

Somehow or other the financial support from father was scanty and irregular. My mother looked for means of self-support. She established a stand near an armory selling Russian favorites, thereby giving my teeth something to gnash over and engaging my time in watchfulness and the soldiers practiced love-amours on the "shikses", as targets. Later, a sister of hers sent her a formula to make ink and she went into the manufacture of it. I just remember two ingredients that went into it: Istract and kroupik-whatever it is, it gives me writing material and we were selling it to the stores. Business was so good that once again we had to reduce quarters. We moved to Samson, The Confectioner-a sickly old cynic, sitting on his chair, coughing and sneering at everything and everybody.

SANDER

By way of contrast, he had a son named Sander who arrived from the big cities to report for military service during which time he conducted his father's business supposedly being a master confectioner, one proof of it having had two sets of decayed teeth from testing the sugared sweets. I still vision the specially constructed hearth with a large pan over its fire boiling some concoction and Sander holding a pot of cold water, dipping his fingers into it and quickly snatching a bit from the boiling pan, bringing it to his teeth and throwing it back into the pan. This process was repeated steadily during the day. Little wonder he had rotten teeth.

A young girl was engaged wrapping the confections while he also engaged in revealing his affections to that same girl. That was a lesson in cave-love and virtuous flirtation.

This Sander was very chummy with me. I loved to pat his smooth green shaven face turned into a crimson hue. It was novel, for very few shaven faces were seen about. He had a nice voice and I admired singing and songs so much so that we stopped every wandering minstrel and bard that strayed in our yard. Sander financing the adventure--that is gave them a few kopecks and I would copy down as much of their repertory they would allow while Sander would memorize the music. Before long I had an album of Folk-songs proud of its possession. On the other side of the fence was a wealthy home and through its windows strained the chords of an invisible piano that fascinated me on many a night.

One incident stands out in my mind how I saved the confectioners son from military service. He had a fancy pocket-mirror and I took a fancy to it, so he promised to give me it providing I pray in his behalf and save him from serving the tzar. He was a big husky fellow and would make an excellent soldier. But where there is no will, there is a loop-hole. He hated to give away four good years of his life for an ungrateful despot. So when he was called for examination he claimed having a joint in his foot out of place; and I kept on saying psalms in his behalf, day after day and the good Lord in heaven, knowing that I was anxious to get that pocket mirror, listened to my prayers and sure enough--that slacker was honorably discharged and freed from any and all military duties, thereby assuring for me the possession of a childish toy. We were staunch friends up to the day I left him.

During those days I tried to be of help to mother, so I went out selling confections, especially one kind-a poppy sucker that they wished to push into market. So I trudged all over town thereby making a few kopecks but surely lost as much in wear of shoe leather. Not far away was Loshik's River, a branch of a tributary of an unknown stream. There the town folk would cool off in summer, cast their transgressions in autumn, state on its icy crust in winter and wash their clothes in spring. In that body of water, a canoe was as imposing as a steamer and there I learned my first lesson in swimming, by making up two bundles of tall grass, tie it between with a rope and lie across, trusting my safety to the floating grass. My sister, in like manner, jealous of my feat had to perform the same swimming operation and so learned to master it expertly.

ON A HORSE-CART TO THE GOLDEN LAND

We soon found ourselves in a position that we had to start out for the prospective land, although we were almost without funds. But thanks to the will and resolution of mother, we were set for our goal. We started out on an old horse and wagon for the nearest village, where we were to see some of our cousins to bid them adieu. I'll never forget the departure--how my old grandfather (mother's parent) was following us behind the wagon, crying out his last farewell, repeating that this is the last time he sees us. We had to say good-bye to him forever and all the neighbors followed us like a funeral procession. But we were braced up with the one view in mind of reaching the Golden Land. After making our first stop in the village with our cousin Benjamin, we stayed there over the holidays. We were thrown some rocks in our Sookah-by some peasant boys, but this is of no consequence, --Jews are used to be thrown rocks at by different haters and baiters. They run away while we continue where we leave off.

After bidding farewell and enriching mother's purse, we moved along to another village where we met another cousin who helped us a bit and after a few more stops with that lovely horse and wagon in a few more villages and towns we, at last, hit a railroad station where we were to take a train for the city of Homel where our prosperous uncle Abraham lived.

TRAIN FACILITIES

I can't forget my first ride on a passenger train. I was couched underneath some seat so as to dodge my fare, while mother and sister rode on a half-fare bargain with the guard. All went well until half way, when the guard learned that an inspector is boarding the train. He immediately removed us as burdensome baggage and discarded us at the first sub-station we passed where no regular trains stopped. We were waiting all night and the stationmaster didn't know what to do with us on a rainy cold autumn night, until finally, early in the morning, he signaled an open-platform train hauling sand and gravel, to stop long enough to pick us up to bring us to the nearest station. We had an open-air ride and everybody gave us a smiling look-over. We finally reached the city of Homel where we surely expected to get a warm welcome and a fair subsidy from our dear relative. But to our misluck, uncle wasn't home and Auntie, being so grouchy she would scare away a cat--she met us with no small surprise but had to give us comfort and shelter for a few days. But seeing that we intended to stay there a little longer, she quickly persuaded us to go on with our journey and as flimsy and frail as she was she grabbed our headrest bundle on her back and quickly transported it to the nearest railroad station and was the happiest woman on earth to see us off and bid us good-bye. That's how good-natured, soft-hearted aunts act.

From there we made our way to another aunt (mother's sister) where we found just the contrasting side from the first one. It was a poor home but we were met with tears of joy and were treated in the best possible manner. We stayed there for a week and after we departed, our uncle and aunt who were childless, were left a picture of sorrow. We then proceeded to another town where we met our paternal grandparents and after a short stay we were on our way to Vilna--an important stop on route to the United States.

WORRIES GALORE AND IN STORE

After reaching Vilna we were met at the station by a host of agents and intermediary men who get tipped off about all the emigrants coming from the province to cross the Russian border on their way to America. They surely thought they had a prospective client where they were sure to get a nice fee for getting us across the borderline to Germany: for we didn't have any legal passport to pass out of Russia. They took us to the nearest immigrants Hotel and started to talk business. But it didn't take them very long to find out how poor we were and how little we could pay them for their services.

We stayed there a week and after selling our feather-pillows, mother made barely enough to interest a humanitarian agent to take us across and send us off to Hamburg. I always had a notion that when I become a rich man, some day, I'll try to locate the keeper of the inn where we stayed for the week, by the name of Agranovsky, who was very kind to us and the charitable agent and repay them for their kind services they rendered us. But the dream is still in its fancy.

Mother had an idea of leaving me in that town to pursue talmudic studies and send for me later as her funds were not resilient enough to its full stretch but maternal strategy and aim managed to get by. With tears and thankfulness we left the city of Vilna from its magnificent railroad station and stopped at Kovno, now the capitol of Lithuania. From there we were supposed to make for the borderline. We were stationed in a private house for a few days and from thence we were joined with an entire transport of "emigs" on the way to the frontier.

Over a score of bodies were crowded in covered couches and the horses pulled off. We stopped in a few towns en route and were given instructions what to say and what not to say, in case any inquiries were made. Finally one evening we started out for the border. We were riding over hillsides and forests, through swamps and planes, all in a conspirative manner. At one time, all the male passengers were ordered to get on foot and we had to walk for miles. I'll never forget this adventurous journey. Of a sudden, our leader would lay down on the ground, rest his ear up against it--as if he listened to some underground message and then we would proceed again for miles. Here and there our guide walked up to some figure in uniform and after brief negotiations--for it was a friendly, bribed gendarme--we proceeded on our journey.

Finally, towards morning we rode up to some barn. We saw an officer on horse-back, drop out of sight and we were hurriedly placed inside the barn. It was filled with hay and one youngster lit a match for his cigarette. He was almost lynched at that time for he could have made a fire and put us in trouble.

Being hidden in that barn for some time we were ordered to take off our shoes and stockings and get ready for a dip, for we were to cross a stream of water and land on German soil. The women always get the best of it, for they were tucked around the shoulders of a few husky men and carried across, while we male creatures, had to roll up the pantaloons and wade in the water. I remember, one fellow tripped and fell down almost drowning. But finally we were all on the other side of the boundary line.

A FICO TO THE TSAR

After passing some distance to safety, we sat down and heaved a cheerful sigh and thumbed our noses with contempt to the tsar and his land.

We dried ourselves a bit and marched forward for about a mile until we entered the home of a German farmer. We lingered about for a day and in the evening were all laid out in a row on the ground for our rest and sleep. But just to our luck, the Deutchman's mistress was about to give birth to a little flying Dutchman and the "Katzenjammer was doing its best to keep us awake all night. Finally it was peace and quiet after the arrival was greeted and happiness and schnapps was flooding the table. We didn't have any time to bother about sleep, so we were all up and made merry. Later, the farmer hitched up a pair of horses and took us all to the nearest city called Idkunin which was a railroad center. In that city, we had to take a bath, disinfect our clothes and get a doctor's examination. Everything was O.K. and we were ordered the same delay, claiming that our fare was not paid up in full. We had some aggravation and excitement and mother had to run from one office to another and had to telegraph to the agent in Vilna but luckily all was straightened out and the same day we took the train for our seaport-Hamburg-while other emigrants had to wait for weeks to straighten out their papers.

The German train impressed me with its noise and fast pace. After a two-days ride, we reached Hamburg. We were soon closed in a concentration camp, near the pier which was a waiting station for all the immigrants going to America. Here, inside the gates was a busy bee with sleeping berths, stores and synagogue and other facilities. Every meal time the gong would ring and call the sheep to dine. There was a rush and stampede for a seat- for all could not eat at one time and there had to be more than one round to feed the herd. Every evening we were concerted with solid German philosophic music and so a week's time rolled by.

I was past thirteen, the age for a full passenger ticket on a steamer and mother had only a half-ticket for my share sent us two years previously so, being as I looked a big boy, I was called to the office and was questioned how I prayed-whether I twisted something around my arm, meaning the phylacteries. But knowing what they were up against, I pleaded innocence and ignorance of anything but the plain "seder". And so my mother was to the best of it.

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To be continued