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  • Saturday Jan 12


    Slept late, in the evening visited
    the K.H. office, the 2nd and 3rd Zionist
    Districts and the remainder of the time
    about 3 1/2 hours (from 11:30pm to 3:00am) at
    the Cafe Royal.

    Goldstein introduced me to Dr. Murdoni
    the famous dramatic critic, the Dr. M.
    told me of a sad experience
    while in Siberia on a mission of the
    Russian Jewish Relief Comittee during
    the war, He met ther 500 Galician
    Jews in one place, very religious
    old jews and jewesses and children
    were forced to live among the
    wild Tatars in the villages in
    Siberia, where they were forced to go
    for no reason whatever, and what
    horrible experiences they had to go there.

    Only one picture of the Golus

    ————–

    Matt’s Notes

    Yesterday Papa talked about escaping to the movies, but today he’s got more serious things on his mind. It’s interesting to be reminded that, as modern and American as his life seems, he could relate quite closely the dark, almost regressive-sounding world of the Jews in “Dr. M’s” story. His life might easily have gone that way and he knows it.

    I had a bit of trouble reading a couple of words in this entry. I’m not sure if I got “Dr. Murdoni” right or the word “Golus”. Take a look below and see if you think I got them right. Any idea who or what he could be talking about?

    ——————-

    Updates

    1/13 – I didn’t have much time to poke around when I wrote this yesterday, but a quick Web search today reveals a bit about the term “Golus.” “The Golus,” as my grandfather uses it, roughly refers to the Diaspora and the plight of Jews in exile. So, when he refers to “Dr. M’s” story of Jews being shipped to Siberia as “one picture of the Golus,” he means it’s one example of Jewish suffering in the absence of a Jewish homeland. The more strident Zionists scorned and sought to eliminate the “golus mentality,” which they saw as a tendency for Jews to resign themselves to defeat and abuse.

    Papa didn’t have a violent bone in his body (my mother tells a story of him reprimanding my cousin for swatting a bee because “even a bee has a right to live”) but he must have had a touch of distaste for the image of the “golus Jew,” else he wouldn’t have pushed to nickname his B’nai Zion lodge “The Maccabeans” after the Jewish warrior heroes of the Hannukah story.

    2/4 – I just came across a February 26th article in the New York Times about the Yiddish theater that mentions Cafe Royal. Looks like it was on 2nd Avenue and 12th street and was, according to the article, a hangout for Yiddish actors. My mother adds that “it was a gathering place for ‘intelligentsia’ to meet, greet and harangue each other. It was very popular back in the day.”

    4/7 – Ari, an Assistant Professor of American Studies at UC Davis, adds:

    …Second Avenue was known as “the Yiddish Rialto” or Yiddish Broadway, as it housed most of the Yiddish theaters in NYC. The Royal was the hangout for artists and intellectuals, who would go there before and after the shows, to debate politics, communism, and whatever they wanted to.

    And:

    Dr. Murdoni is, in fact, Alexander Mukdoni, a prominent and prolific Yiddish theater critic. Most of his work is rendered in Yiddish, and not much of it is translated, but there should be a good bio out there somewhere. He was quite well-respected and very serious about his criticism, scholarship and journalism.

  • Thursday Feb 21

    Enjoyed dance given by
    3rd dist Z.O.A. at the Parkway Palace.

    My brother in law received
    a summons to court from
    the Success School,

    My sister came up and
    called me to go with her to
    the School,

    Because I told the School man
    twice before that my brother in law
    and out of work, he agreed
    to teach him English for the
    whole term on payments
    of $2.00 a week, on account
    I gave him the 2nd 5 dollars
    I am glad this is off my
    head, I will gladly pay for
    him every week as he at present
    cannot afford it.

    —————

    Matt’s Notes

    I’m not sure where the Parkway Palace or the Third District of the Zionist Organization of America were located, though I’d say any establishment with the word “parkway” in its name was probably in the Bronx. Hopefully I can make it over to the New York Historical Society to look into it a little more…

    Of more interest, though, is Papa’s description of his brother-in-law Phil’s problems with the Success School, which was obviously a vocational or language school catering to immigrants. If it had existed in modern times, it probably would have advertised itself on the subway.

    I wonder what the atmosphere was like. Was it a second-floor classroom with a sign in the window and a bunch of typewriters sitting on old school desks? Was it close and stuffy, like the sweatshops its students work in? Maybe Papa’s meeting with the “school man” (his English vocabulary must not have included the words “headmaster” or “administrator”) took place in a dark hallway or staircase. It could have even happened in the classroom while class was in session — sounds like the “school man” wanted to get rid of Phil in favor of a full-tuition student, so he might have deliberately made Papa argue right there, thinking he’d be too embarrassed to discuss Phil’s discount arrangement in front of other students.

    In any event, Papa’s sense of duty is once again on display as he forks over $5.00 to keep Phil in class (if a previous commenter on this blog has the conversion right, this would be the equivalent of $60 in 2007, which was probably no small chunk of Papa’s salary). My mother says the words “I am glad this is off my head” really jumped out at her because, for Papa, this would have been an over-the-top expression of impatience. But, these are Papa’s private thoughts, and if that’s as annoyed as he got I’m sure no one noticed.

    Phil, by the way, was a Russian immigrant who came to America after his first wife “broke her head,” as Phil apparently put it, in a buggy accident. He would outlive three more wives, all of whom, including Papa’s sister Nettie, died under strange circumstances. This earned him the nickname “serial killer” among certain members of my family. According to one story, Phil half-jokingly offered to make Papa’s other sister Clara his fifth wife when she was around eighty. “No,” she replied, “I’m too young to die.”

  • Friday Feb 29/Saturday Mar 1

    [1924 was a leap year, so I’ve published February 29th and March 1 on this page]

    Little Ruchaly still seriously
    ill, which worries me greatly.

    After listening for some
    time to the radio. —
    I went to Jack Zichlinsky’s
    house where in company of
    friend I spent until 1:15 a.m
    Ruchaly feels slightly better

    after visiting some Zionist
    societies in the Evening with
    friend Louis Bluestone, I spent
    the rest of the evening at the
    Cafe Royal where I met many
    friends until 3:30 a.m.

    I sent to parents $5.00

    —————

    Matt’s Notes

    Once, around twenty years ago, my mother, grandmother, sister and I were driving around Brooklyn when my grandmother looked at a building and suddenly blurted out “Jack Zichlinsky lived there!” I laughed for about three hours because she really exploded and I had no idea who she was talking about.

    Obviously, though, Jack was a good friend of Papa’s since at least the 1920’s, so they had really been through the ringer together if their lives were at all similar. My mother tells me that, when Papa died in 1971, Jack cried while saying kaddish for him. Jack’s tombstone apparently displays the insignia of the Order Sons of Zion (B’nai Zion) the fraternal order to which he and Papa belonged.

    Speaking of B’nai Zion, the March 1 post mentions Louis Bluestone, which surprises me because I thought the “Bluestone” Papa has talked about was Dr. Joseph Bluestone, one of the early B’nai Zion leaders (Papa often says “Bluestone” in the same breath as “Blaustein”, who was also a B’nai Zion leader). Perhaps Louis was Joseph’s brother or son; I’ll have to look into it.

    ————-

    Update March 1

    My mother adds:

    What was even more funny about the J.Z. story is that every time we passed Sheepshead Bay, Nana would point out his home. It became a dumb family joke.

  • Thursday Mar 6

    Tried to see my lawyer after work
    as per appointment but he was
    not at home

    I went to Miss Weisman
    delivering the banquet picture
    I spent there 2 hours in con-
    versation with her,

    Later me the manager
    of the Success School Mr. Lubow
    at the Parkway Restaurant
    accidentally, he came over to
    my table!

    After a brief talk about my
    brother in law, he declared he
    would drop the whole matter
    that he would not sue and
    declared the incident closed

    ————–

    Matt’s Notes

    So, here ends our subplot about the dastardly Mr. Lebow — head of the Success School and the very man about whom Papa tried to see his lawyer earlier in the day — and his mistreatment of Papa’s brother-in-law, Phil. Since I have trampled on his memory already, I’ll keep it going and assume he only dropped the matter of Phil’s tuition (remember, he kicked Phil out of school and tried to collect tuition anyway) because he was drunk, fresh from a visit to an opium den, or feeling flush because he had just burglarized an apartment.

    He couldn’t have been all bad, though, because he knew where to go for good chopped liver. The Parkway Restaurant, where he ran into Papa, must have been the very Allen Street Roumanian schmalzateria Calvin Trillin pines for in the “Mao and Me” chapter of The Tummy Trilogy. Like Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse, the only such restaurant I’ve ever been to, the Parkway is said to have had singing waiters and pitchers of chicken fat on every table, though I expect it didn’t strive for such novelty in 1924. Incidentally, the photo Papa brought to Miss Wiesman was from a banquet he attended with her at Greenberg’s Roumanian Casino. This means he ate Roumanian food at least twice in the span of two months, making his mere survival until spring something of a miracle1. Papa finds more ways to win my admiration every day.

    Anyway: A trip out to Brooklyn to see his old flame, a happy ending to the Success School Saga, and a nice piece of chicken (or maybe a veal chop) at the Parkway. Not such a bad day for Papa.

    ————-

    Additional notes:

    1 – Quoth Trillin:

    The standard line about Romanian-Jewish cooking is usually credited to Zero Mostel, a great fan of the Parkway: “It’s killed more Jews than Hitler.”

    I hope to learn more when I get my hands on another Trillin article from 1974 in which he profiled the Parkway in more detail for the New Yorker. Perhaps it’ll reveal if the Parkway Restaurant and the Parkway Palace, which Papa referred to earlier, are one and the same.

    ————-

    My mother writes:

    I still wish I knew more about the elusive Miss Weisman. If she was an old flame and Papa took her to banquets and brought her pictures of their evenings together, why was she still Miss Weisman? Why not Eva or Sally or whatever her first name was? Such formality. Well, she couldn’t have been too smart if she didn’t see Papa’s worth and grab him for herself.

  • Sunday Mar 9


    The unexpected happened
    Brother Friedman’s wife
    died suddenly, and it was
    my sad duty as a brother
    of one camp to attend the
    funeral, which depressed
    me.

    I spent the evening at
    Jack Zichlinsky’s house

    —————-

    Matt’s Notes

    As noted earlier, Papa was an officer in a new chapter of the fraternal Order Sons of Zion (a.k.a. B’nai Zion) though this is the first time he referred to a fellow member as “Brother.” Papa usually called his friends like Jack Zichlinsky (he of Sheepshead Bay) by name even if they were B’nai Zion members, so I wonder if Papa wasn’t quite as close to Brother Freidman.

    B’nai Zion functioned in part as a burial society (the rest of their charter included Zionist fund-raising, teaching Hebrew and providing life insurance) so maybe Papa went to Mrs. Freidman’s funeral more out of official, “sad duty” than out of pure friendship. Jews require a minyan — a group of ten or more men — to say kaddish (the prayer for the dead) at a funeral. I expect B’nai Zion guaranteed such a quorum for the families of all its members, which may be the duty Papa refers to here.

    Speaking of which, Papa noted the day before that he “found a message from Lemus” asking him to attend the funeral. This brings up a lot of little questions: How, exactly, did he find this note? Did Lemus slip it under Papa’s door? Did he stick it in a mailbox? And who was Lemus? Was he an elected officer of Papa’s B’nai Zion chapter charged with distributing notes under such circumstances? Was he the superintendent of Papa’s building? Did people like Papa, who didn’t have a phone at this time, typically communicate by dropping notes at their friends’ and neighbors’ apartments?

    Must…learn…more…

  • Friday Apr 4

    Visited Clara at hospital
    and Max Breindel,

    Max is really besides
    a relative a good friend
    He is not like some
    others of the family

    —————–

    Matt’s Notes

    As noted in a previous post, Max Breindel is the man who met Papa and his sitter Nettie at Ellis Island when they first arrived from the old country. Max also invited them to stay in his apartment, where they shared a bed with his children, sleeping head-by-toe, until they could find a place of their own. Papa always recalled this as a great, adventurous time in his life, and I think his kind words about Max reveal his ongoing gratitude. (Check out the Lower East Side Tenement Museum’s tenement tour to get a better idea of what their living quarters must have been like.)

    I don’t know whom Papa refers to when he says “some others of the family” are not as good as Max, but it’s about as harsh a statement as he ever makes. Perhaps he means his brother Isaac, the previous recipient of a disapproving nod for pressuring Papa from the old country for money. I also know his sisters Nettie and Clara didn’t get along, so I wonder if Nettie earned a demerit for some kind of misbehavior or lack of interest while Clara was in hospital with her newborn son.

    I’m also trying to figure out if it was unusual back then for an immigrant woman to stay in the hospital for so long after giving birth (it’s been eight days now). Papa had expressed surprise at how early his nephew was born, so maybe there was some sort of medical complication. Then again, a week or more might have been a normal post-childbirth stay in 1924; as always, if anyone reading this knows a little more, please post a comment or send an e-mail.

  • Saturday Apr 5


    Attended circumcision of Clara’s
    baby at Hospital where he was
    named Julius (Yiddish)

    Afternoon I went rowing
    with Jack Breitbart in Prospect
    Park, the warmest day this
    spring, it certainly was
    refreshing.

    I met and took home Miss
    Schneiderman from South Bklyn

    She is a nice girl and I made
    a date with her for an outing
    next Sunday at Palisades Park

    She is refined but a quiet girl
    well bred, and I expect to enjoy
    a lot of her company next Sunday.

    I have even been invited by
    her parents to call often.

    ——-

    Matt’s Notes

    Papa wrote his new nephew Julius’ name in Yiddish in the third line of this entry. My wife, who knows about such things, thinks it says “Yussel,” but in any event it looks like this:

    Yesterday I wondered whether Clara’s ten-day hospital stay after giving birth to Julius was unusual, but my mother thinks it was typical: “I believe women stayed in the hospital for ten days in those times. I have a distant memory of Nana telling me that her ‘confinement’ was ten days…” I’ll keep trying to confirm this.

    Meanwhile, the malaise to which Papa has been confined for the last couple of weeks appears to be lifting, aided by the 65-degree weather and his pal Jack Breitbart. I’m starting to like Jack because he always shows up when wholesome fun is in the offing; the other week he unexpectedly materialized with opera tickets in hand, and now he joins Papa for an invigorating row in Prospect Park (he’s kind of like the Tony Roberts character in a Woody Allen movie). We can only assume Papa wore his straw boater for the occasion, to wit:

    And here’s a shot of the lake in Prospect Park between 1910 and 1920:


    Image source: The Lower lake, Prospect Park, Brooklyn, N.Y. Library of Congress call # LC-D4-72148

    Prospect Park is, of course, in Brooklyn, so Papa must have gone out there in preparation to meet “Miss Schneiderman from South Bklyn.” I assume he was set up with her by Jack Breitbart, who introduced them, perhaps, by the Park’s “Rustic Boathouse” before sauntering off:


    Image source: Prospect Park Archives

    Papa’s description of Miss Schneiderman as “refined but quiet” may imply a slightly unfavorable comparison to the opinionated, vivacious Henriette (a.k.a. the “20th Century Girl“) with whom he’s been recently preoccupied, but at least he’s lightening up a bit. Looks like he dropped her off at her parents’ home in “South Brooklyn” (he must mean the Brighton Beach area, where he would later raise his family) and made a favorable impression on them, so stay tuned.

    —————

    Additional References

    For more historical images of Prospect Park, check out their well-organized archives at http://www.prospectpark.org/hist/archives.html.

  • Thursday May 1


    This is workers day, so
    I am off resting.

    In afternoon attended
    game in Yankee Stadium
    in Evening Zionist meeting
    at Hotel Astor.

    Sent home $5.00

    Received letter from home
    father still ill, but I am
    at least relieved by getting
    some news from home.

    ——————

    Matt’s Notes

    “Workers Day” refers to International Workers day or Labor Day, a holiday recognized around the world on May 1 and generally associated with the Haymarket Riot of 1886 and its tragic aftermath. (As you remember from your history lessons, the riot took place after Chicago union workers called a general strike in support of an eight-hour workday on May 1, 1886. Four days of mayhem followed. Several protesters died at the hands of the police, though events reached a tragic climax when a bomb exploded in Haymarket Square and killed at least seven police officers and four civilians. Several anarchists were falsely arrested, tried and executed for the bombing, sparking international outrage). Though the riot happened in Chicago, the United States never officially recognized May Day as a holiday, allegedly because its commemoration had quickly become associated with Socialist causes. Meanwhile, more conservative labor organizations had already prompted several states to declare the first Monday in September as Labor Day, and in 1887 Grover Cleveland decided to make it a national holiday.

    Papa’s union and employer obviously still recognized May Day as a workers’ holiday in 1924; the New York Yankees, on the other hand, could only wish they had the day off, as they saw their long winning streak come to an end at the hands of the Washington Senators. Papa saw them strand runners on base all day in the course of the 3-2 loss at the Stadium, or, as the New York Times put it, “When a single or a fly meant a run or more, the Yankee hitsmiths struck out or popped out or rolled out in a manner agonizing.”

    It looks like the U.S. Postal Service was open that day as well, since, my sources tell me, post offices often served as banks through which immigrants would send money overseas (I can’t be totally sure that Papa sent his $5.00 home through the post office since he had other options as well, but it’s a safe bet). Having received an update from the old country and sent some money to his family, I expect Papa was able to concentrate on his Zionist meeting at the Astor with something like a clear head.

    hotel astor

    —————

    References:

    ————–

    Image sources:

    • Yankee Stadium, 4/3/23. Library of Congress # LC-B2- 5958-11. No known restrictions on publication.
    • Hotel Astor. Library of Congress call number HABS NY,31-NEYO,72-.

  • Tuesday May 6


    Movie at Academy of Music

    ——————-

    Matt’s Notes

    As we’ve discussed before, the Academy of Music was a storied venue that had fallen on hard times by the time Papa went there to see movies.

    Once the home of New York Opera, and therefore the very seat of Knickerbocker society, it’s primacy came to an end at the hands of William H. Vanderbilt. Some time around 1880 Vanderbilt, who was considered nouveau riche by the standards of Knickerbocker society, was so incensed by the unavailability of boxes at the Academy that he simply decided to build his own opera house. Other like-minded millionaires jumped on board, and by May of 1883 their project, the old Metropolitan Opera House on 39th and Broadway, was in business.1

    The Academy, having remained on top for forty years since its 1849 opening, took another forty to expire from Vanderbilt’s vengeful blow. Its popularity (and box seats) were gone by the late 1800’s, and bit by bit it conceded to host lower-brow attractions like wrestling, musical theater, and, finally, movies. The wrecking ball ended its misery in 1926, when the Consolidated Gas Company knocked it down and built new corporate headquarters in its place (the Con Ed building still stands in the same spot at 14th and Irving).

    Did Papa know the Academy had but two years of life remaining when he wrote the above entry? We can’t be sure, but we do know he most certainly didn’t see any of that week’s first-run movies like Men, with Pola Negri, or Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall, with Mary Pickford. The Academy wasn’t considered an important enough venue to make the New York Times listings, but it probably showed movies that had been hanging around town for a few weeks, like “The Thief of Bagdad,” “America,” “Three Weeks” or “Beau Brummel.” (While searching the Times archive I did come across a couple of enjoyable feature stories about the sorry state of subtitle writing and Hollywood’s lack of good scripts, complaints that persist today in movie journalism. Check them out if you’re a movie fan.)

    ————————–

    References

    1 – As noted by Irving Kolodin in his History of the Metropolitan Opera 1883-1950:

    Few of us today could imagine a society in which a mere whim could determine the existence of such a structure as the Metropolitan. Lilli Lehmann has recorded the circumstances in her memoirs, My Path through Life (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons; 1914): “As, on a particular evening, one of the millionairesses did not receive the box in which she intended to shine because another woman had anticipated her, the husband of the former [Vanderbilt] took prompt action and caused the Metropolitan Opera House to rise.”

  • Tuesday July 15


    Went with Jack Z. to arrange
    with a lawyer about the
    camp credit union.

    I am alarmed not having
    received any call yet
    about my naturalization.

    —————————-

    Matt’s Notes

    “Jack Z.” is, as we’ve noted before, the august Jack Zichlinsky, one of Papa’s best friends and a brother in the Zionist fraternal organization Order Sons of Zion (B’nai Zion). Immigrants like Papa were used to getting a number of financial, medical and legal services through private, dues-supported organizations like B’nai Zion, which was already a burial society and a reseller of life insurance for its members. As an officer of his local chapter Papa was obviously responsible for organizing its credit union as well.

    Though he’s discussed B’nai Zion many times before, this entry has the first mention of Papa’s naturalization status. According to The National Archives and Ancestry.com Web sites, naturalization would have been a two-step process for Papa: after living in the U.S. for at least two years, he would have filed a Declaration of Intention to naturalize (a.k.a. “First Papers”) and after a waiting period of another three to five years he would have filed a Petition for Naturalization.

    Ancestry.com’s New York County Supreme Court Naturalization Petition Index shows that Papa probably filed his petition in June of 1920. He’d been waiting a while for his naturalization, but I wonder why he picked July 15th, 1924 to feel especially worried about it. Maybe Jack Z.’s own naturalization has just come through and he’d discussed it with Papa while they were out and about, or maybe naturalization chatter had increased in the local community, in the newspapers, or on the radio for some reason. The Johnson-Reed Act of 1924, a bill that imposed heavy immigration restrictions on Eastern Europeans (among other groups) had also become law couple of months earlier — maybe Papa had just gotten around to worrying about it now since it happened around the time of his father’s death. In any event, I have to look into this more.

    —————————–

    Additional References

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