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When it comes to remembering Tishevits, or my life in Poland in general, I suffer from partial amnesia. Whether this is a result of the effects of the catastrophe, or merely the passage of time, is hard for me to determine. By this I mean that I am not writing a history. I'm only trying to remember, and to mention some of the friends of my youth who were torn to shreds by wild beasts.

Tishevits, although naturally similar to other shtetls in Poland, and especially those of Lublin province, was nevertheless different. The rise of Poalei Zion in Tishevits took place in a different manner than elsewhere. There were no left wing Poalei Zion in the entire neighborhood. Only in Chelm, which had no contact with Tishevits, was there a large party organization. In Tishevits there was no Poalei Zion before the division. The right wing Poalei Zion was previously Tze'irei Zion. Therefore, the schism in Poalei Zion in 1920 could not have left any trace in Tishevits. Incidentally, around 1920 Tishevits had just begun to sample from the worldly tree of knowledge on a significant scale, openly. This worldly Tishevits, with its parties, locales, and unions, was initially a product of WWI. At the Tze'irei Zion locale you could find the earnest and honest Nuteh Rosenzweig, h”yd. He was unhappy with the Tze'irei Zion ideology, and took part in the founding of the Jewish people's library at the end of the 1920s, which was, at the beginning, in competition with the Tze'irei Zion association. The founders of the people's library with Mendl Singer, and Shmuel Ehrlich Brosh were Bundistish or Folkistish inclined. This put Nuteh outside the camp of Tze'irei Zion. How Nuteh became aware of and acquainted with the left Poalei Zion, I don't know. He was the founder and leader of the Tishevits left wing Poalei Zion until his departure from Poland in 1937.

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Nuteh was however in a certain sense an isolated individual, because, to our shame, it must be remembered that well-off and important people even in the worldly associations seldom mixed with the common people, the trades, the plebians. The Tze'irei Zion was founded by the “beautiful” young people and the well-off. And whoever came from such a home, or strived to have the “beautiful” friends, went there. Nuteh, the son of Itcheh and Chaneh Malicher came from a decent old family. The Malichers and the Kovales were a hearty family of Tevye der Milchiker type. At Tze'irei Zion there were few volunteers who left with him. Even those who went with him for a while, quickly regretted it and went back to the right wing Poalei Zion. So how does a leader get a following? The story is the following:

Aside from Tevye der Milchiker, there were also in Tishevits Chaims from Peretz's Sholem Bayis: common folk, tradesmen, who did not allow their bitterness to the “yivatisheh,” (well-off) to consume their “chelek v'nahalah b'elohei Israel.” There lived in Tishevits a Mecheleh Shuster, a real pauper. He also liked to read psalms, a chapter of Mishnah, a page of Ein Yakov, or a good story, in the shoemakers' section of the synagogue. While tacking shoes he also reflected on higher matters and needs. He was raising two sons from his first wife, Shifra. The oldest, Avrum Itcheh, and his brother, Mordechai Miller, hy”d.

Around 1926, a trade union opened in Tishevits with much drama. The majority of the common folk joined. There were better-off children in the leadership, but the masses were mostly the common people. The union was a cover, a transparent one, for the communist party. Abraham Itzchak Miller was one of the young members of the union and was drawn into the “Komyog.^[1]” He was the chairman of the cell for a while. But he was bothered by the national question, especially the Jewish question. The assimilationist- Leninist program enraged and repelled him. At the same time, the glory of the October mythos enchanted him and attracted him. He was not aware of the leftist Poalei Zion and their calling themselves at that time, the Jewish Communist Party–Poalei Zion. I was then in my bar-mitzvah years, and by the notions of the time, old enough to be a party man. Social activities rarely continued after marriage so we had to get it in while we could. Communist inclined older boys would occasionally whisper secrets into my ears. But I

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hesitated. My sympathies for socialism drew me to their side, but from childhood on I was a big Jewish Chauvinist, and considered myself a Zionist. However, my sister, Shifra, sent me a children's newspaper from Vilna, “Dos Freiyeh Kind” (I think) put out by the left Poalei Zion. She, along with my brother, Yechiel, joined the left wing Poalei Zion in the Vilna teachers seminary. In that way I learned about left wing Poalei Zion Zionism, and the synthesis of Borochovian Marxism enthralled me and became sacred for me.

We were connected to Mendele Shuster's household partly because he repaired our boots and booties, and partly because our mother, Gitl, a”h, was mother to many lonely and broken souls. So I visited him not just to pick up a pair of repaired boots. We used to chat with Avrum Itcheh a lot and often, and when we discovered that we shared an ideology, we began to go on secret walks (of which, incidentally, both families were unhappy). Avrum Itche left the Komyog and took a lot of members from the trade union with him, and founded the Poalei Zion youth. This must have been around 1928. Those who remember the custom of those days to publish a declaration with grandiose phrases in the party newspaper columns–in this case, Die Freiye Yugnt,--will smile with irony and nostalgia at the same time. But for Avrum Itche and his friends the declaration “that we are leaving our underdog position of the “yevsektsiyeh,”^[2] and joining the true revolutionary camp of Poalei Zion,” was a deeply felt commitment. The name, Poalei Zion rang proudly and the dream was youthful and messianic.

Avrum Itcheh had influence. He actually split the working youth in half. And from then on until the war, the majority of the youth were the shoemakers, tailors, furriers, carpenters, hat makers, bakers, and leather workers, and plain common folk who were either communists or left Poalei Zion. The better-off youth had other unions. There were some better-off youth in the left Poalei Zion, but they were in the minority. After his wedding, Avrum Itcheh was less active in the movement, but his deeds will be remembered here for the good.

In this way, Nuteh became a leader of a mass organization. The details of combining the few older (in their early twenties) members around Nuteh with the younger working class youth, are not clear in my memory. The charm of it

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is not just what time has erased from my memory, but also that I, Abraham Shoichet's son, had occasion to steal through the back streets and byways like a Marrano, to our locale, because what a better-off kid could do publicly, a shoichet's child, eating kehilleh bread, could not.

Speaking of locales, they were not much more than one small cramped rented room. To get the rent money was a tall order. And to heat it in winter, we stole the wood. One location (the first one, I think) was rented from Avremeleh Baker, a garret in the house where, according to legend, the Tishevits Moshiach Ben-Yosef died. Other locations I remember were at the Ginsberg's “court,” and the place at the Knobl's where I was active as one of the founders of the Tishevits Yungbor until I left for Vilna in 1931.

I remember names of surviving friends, among them Moishe Geyer, (party secretary in my time) and his wife, Risheh, today in the United States. His brother, Shloimeh, today in Israel, who was with us at the founding and left after a short time. Pinyeh Sherer, today in America, who seriously delved into

Party activists of the left wing Poalei Zion in Tishevits in 1931

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Borochovism, and came to the conclusion that the party must go into pioneering.

And those who died: The pretty Chayeh Rov; Munyeh Katz with the laughing eyes; Miriam Etl Kopl, the authentic proletarian with a big-city air; the dreamy Bas-Malke Chayeh Zuker; the tall smiling Elyeh Shleicher; the serious Abraham Ber Shafrach, our locally born director and reciter, and his sister, the proletarian intellectual, Rachel; Isralke Lev, and Shloime Shafer for whom the party was a personal redemption and more than a home. Yehoshua Stengl, the dedicated Poalei Zion and loyal personal friend whose room (years later) in Warsaw was the address for many hungry and homeless friends. From his mother's (Rochel die Gendzlerkeh) errand boy, dorfgeyer, and yeridim forer, he became a painter on the high, dizzying, scaffolds of Warsaw apartment houses. Hanging on outside on the highest floors was a terrible job, and therefore better paid. This was the secret of his relative prosperity during the hungry years of the thirties. He shared his earnings with the movement, and was the editor for many years (before the Polish authority) of the “Arbeter Zeitung.” Yehoshua died in the Warsaw ghetto, hy”d.

The Sacher family moved back into the city from a village. All the children of the house were members of Yungbor. Yosl, a”h, was a real go-getter, a true “yat,” in the vernacular of the time. He was also our “star” as actor at all the remembrance celebrations of the academies, and he shone. He passed away very young. But, may he live long, his older brother, Moishe, came from the village school smart and well-read. And he brought from his home the inheritance of his grandfather, Leibish Wassertreger, a manual laborer, and a ba'al koreh, a prototype of Yochanan the water carrier of Peretz. This naturally led him to eventually become the leader of the Tishevits left wing Poalei Zion, taking over Nuteh's place and role while he was serving in the Polish army. Incidentally, Nuteh could have gotten out of serving like many boys of his class, but military service was for him a preparation for the final liberation of the Jewish people and the working class. Whether he had a chance to fight against the German beast, I do not know. He did, however, prepare himself…(let us remember that). Moishe remained the leader until the war. He, and his wife, Pesheh, (also one of the first Tishevits Poalei Zionist), and the surviving family in Israel, can remember and tell more.

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I won't go into any more detail about our activities. We carried out a broad cultural agenda. Even Feivish, the Communist, gave me sharp-edged compliments, that we were preparing them to be aware comrades. In truth, many learned to read and write Yiddish with us. Many were confronted with the Jewish and human problems of our time for the first time at our meetings, and they remained aware until today. The presentations, lectures, classes, discussions, trips in the forest, celebrations and performances are still warm memories. Our party was the only bit of light and celebration for a large part of our members and children.

I want to end with underlining that even though history mocked us, our dream was nonetheless honest and earnest. I remember only that when Nuteh came back from a Poalei Zion youth conference in Warsaw, in 1930, I think, and did not bring any plans for arming ourselves for the socialist revolution that we hoped and waited for in those days, it was a big disappointment for our Yungtatses, and Yungbors, especially as our Komyog friends arrogantly bragged about their hay-covered wagons of rifles smuggled into Ukrainian villages by itinerant “gepeunikes.” It's possible that for our leaders in Warsaw or in other big cities, it was a game with fine phrases. We took it seriously, honestly…To us, it seemed like the road to Jewish and human redemption. But a brutal death, at the hands of the brown, German beast and its Polish, Ukrainian, and other murderous accomplices, may their name and memory be erased, and the cynical treachery of the Georgian despot, extinguished the flame.

1. Communist youth in the USSR Return
2. Jewish section of the Communist party (1918-1930) Return

The left wing Poalei Zion party began operating around 1927. The organization actually existed earlier, possibly earlier than 1927, but not being permitted by the authorities,

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the first meetings took place in private houses illegally.

It wasn't until winter, 1928, that with great effort and difficulties, we succeeded in getting permission from the staroste for the name, “Society of Friends of the Workers of Palestine.” Because the left wing Poalei Zion party was banned by the Polish authorities, activities took place under various names. Those responsible in the staroste in Tomaszow were the chaverim: Paise Shlafrok, Yoineh Mermlstein, Nuteh Rosenzweig, and Nachum Spritz.

The founding group of the left wing Poalei Zion in the year 1928

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and it received an enthusiastic reception in the city. We also organized trips to the forest every Saturday, mostly in the region of the Presper Forest. Yankele Kleks lived in that neighborhood. Incidentally, Zalman and Chaim Kleks were also members of the organization, which created a homier atmosphere. There we enjoyed various sports, or engaged in discussions. In the evening, we would return home singing. This activity became increasingly popular in the city, and more members kept joining, mostly from working class homes, who yearned for knowledge and social life. Most of the young people came from homes where the fathers were always busy with work in the workshops, or away working in the nearby villages for a whole week, or doing business, in order to support the family. The wives would stay home toiling to raise the children, preoccupied with cooking and washing, and in a free moment, plucking feathers, never staying idle.

Many families would rent orchards in the surrounding villages in the suburbs, and stay there the whole summer living in wagons surrounded by straw in perpetual fear of thieves, or the rains and summer storms. That's how they struggled through the summer just to feed their families. And if God helped, and they saved something for winter, they were happy and lucky.

With such a hard life, it was hard, really hard, for the youth of the above-mentioned class to benefit from a social-political upbringing. That's why it was such a great achievement for the founders — chaverim — who understood and responded to the situation by founding the organization. Yechiel Stern, Shifra Stern, Nuteh Rosenzweig, z”l, and others dedicated themselves to the organization. One marvels at the extraordinary will of these people to share their knowledge with others. The writer of these lines remembers the difficult conditions under which Yechiel gave his lectures on various political themes somewhere in a garret at Avremaleh Becker's, a”h. His scientific explanations about the ”class interests in the national question” of Ber Borochov, read somewhere at Meir Shieh Shuster's, a”h. Those were unforgettable moments that will always remain in the memory of the survivors.

Nuteh Rosenzweig was the actual builder, organizer, and leader in all aspects of party life. He dedicated his entire work, efforts and energy to the organization.

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A separate and more important contribution was the work of Shifra Stern. Pouring her heart and soul into it, she organized the children's organization, Yungbor, (young Borochowists). She drew together the children of working class homes, from poor homes, and taught them to read and write first in Yiddish. Like a mother, she gave them an elementary upbringing, and later taught them the class distinctions in society, and to struggle for a better, more beautiful, life.

The passionate will and thirst for knowledge in the children and youth inspired the leadership in their dedicated work.

As a result of this fruitful work, new talented young people emerged among the chaverim themselves, and with time, they began to undertake the roles of the earlier leaders. After Shifra's immigration to Canada, Israel Stern took over the responsibility of the children's organization, and carried out the job with exactitude and faithfulness. His actual political discussions with the children were a pleasure to listen to, and were a font of wisdom. His frequent lectures and appearances were a great benefit for adults as well. He remained active and devoted up to the day of his departure.

With time, other chaverim stepped into youth leadership positions: Moishe Geyer, Pinieh Sherer, Shaul Klein, Yehoshua Shtengl, z”l, who fell heroically in the Warsaw ghetto, and Moishe Sacher who together with the above-mentioned chaverim worked and carried out the party activities until the outbreak of WWII.

There was also a group of party activists: Munieh Katz, Chayeh Rov, Ruchl Shafrach, Miriam Etl Kapel, Malkeh Zuker, Berl Shafrach, Yosl Sacher, Israel Lev,and Moishe Engelsberg. They all carried out their duties with complete devotion and discipline in whatever the party asked of them.

A part of the surviving erstwhile activists are now in Israel, or in other countries, and some of them continue to be active in various political or social movements: the chaverim Nachum Spritz, Abraham Reis, Pesheh Pelz, Gitl Gam, Chayeh Zuker, Rishe Laufer, and Menieh Kleiner. All the survivors certainly share a feeling of gratitude to all those who had helped to elevate the worker youth from our shtetl to a proper spiritual level.

In 1925, when the Betar movement was established in Poland and in other countries, Tishevits, like other cities and shtetls, also answered the call of Zev Jabotinsky and founded Betar. Most of the chaverim came to Betar from Tzeirei Mizrachi. The other parties, like Poalei Zion, right and left Hechalutz, Freiheit, Mizrachi, Tzeirei Mizrachi, Bund, and Communists, already had years of work behind them.

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When Betar first appeared on the “Jewish street,” we didn't know what to make of them — were they chalutzim^[1], or militarists. We used to make fun of their paper rifles, of the “fascists” as we called them because of their brown shirts and their uniforms, and the quasi-military aspect they had in Poland. The uniform was the main attraction for young people. The Jewish youth, especially in a small town like Tishevits, had no opportunities, neither in education, nor in employment, aside from the besmedresh or the shtibl, so the young people occupied themselves

Betar, Tyszowce, 1930-1931

In a short time we established a strong revisionist Betar movement. We founded a library, and carried out Zionist and literary activities. We set up a mandolin orchestra under the direction of Yakov Reis. He is in Israel today.

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In the Betar locale, we opened a school where we taught Hebrew, Tanach, and the geography of Israel. The teachers were: Moishe Pietrishka, z”l — he was killed by the Nazi murderers, and chaver Henech Chavkin, who is in Israel now. We founded a hachshara^[2] in Tishevits attended by Betar members from the region. Unfortunately, there was not a lot of work to do other than chopping wood and similar jobs.

In 1929, when the first Betar kibbutz was founded in Nadworna, Galicia, two chaverim from Tishevits attended: the writer of these lines, and Eliezer Lerner, who unfortunately did not make it to Israel but was killed by the Nazis. Ephraim Kuperstein, now in Israel, was sent to Warsaw to the first Betar instructor's course. On his return, he helped out a lot with various sports and military exercises. A lot of chaverim from Betar travelled to Israel with certificates, or with Aliyah Bet. It was called at the time, “excursions.” A Betar member from Tishevits, Zvi Reifer, who came with Aliyah Bet, fell in the War of Independence at the Altalena ship skirmish.

I think it's worth remembering the fact that, when the Polish national holiday was celebrated on May 3rd, Betar was invited to march around the shtetl. With their brown shirts and white and blue flags they marched right up to the church, and waited outside until prayers were finished.

That's how low we had sunk in the diaspora in our desire to appear fine to the goyim. How proud we should be today in our country of Israel.

1. Pioneers for Israel Return
2. Kibbutz training camp Return

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I know that there is someone from our townspeople who is more qualified than me to give expression to, and to devote time in writing, about the importance of the Freiheit-Dror^[1] organization in our city Tyszowce in providing Zionist and socialist education to the youth. However, I find it appropriate from my perspective to bring up some drawings and figures that have been etched in my memory from that glorious era, the period of youth in which we spent the best of our young years, and absorbed into us the homeland atmosphere to which we longed to ascend in the course of time.

The Dror movement in Tyszowce

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The member, Yenta, contributed a lot to the design of the Freiheit-Dror organization patterns, and to the brave spirit she instilled in us when she explained the essence of our organization. Under her guidance and influence, a pioneering lifestyle full of social and cultural activity was created. The activity was expressed not only in evening conversations, but also in general activity, and we all joined her work and organized successful social performances that, over time, became the talk of the city.

Pesach Kreiner z”l - was my neighbor. I already knew him in my childhood when I came to play with my friend, Yankele Kreiner. Pesach's sister, Rivkaleh, was a noble and kindhearted person like no other, and both of them were always radiant and charming.

The Dror movement before the outbreak of the war in 1939

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for the hard work of lumberjacks, and various hard jobs at the sawmill, all this in order to adapt to a life of work in the longed-for homeland.

Moshe Motel Schler z”l - was one of leaders of Poalei Zion in our city, and we all drew and drank thirstily from the well of his knowledge and education. At every moment, and at every opportunity, he spoke words of taste and wisdom, and read and explained to us the folk tales of Y. L. Peretz and other writers. He sharpened our senses and organized public literary meetings with us that attracted the majority of the Jewish public in town. I also remember the experiences of the movement emissaries' visit to our city. In 1933, the member, Tzyvia Lubetkin, who was then a lively young girl full of energy and knowledge, visited us (later, her name became known in the ghettos as a partisan - she is now in Israel). How the years flowed and passed in extensive social activity, and pleasant dreams, to build a better and more just world. Oh, how much life content there was in the conversations we held from time to time in the Podbórner Forest, which were always accompanied by various games and social gatherings around a campfire. Who doesn't remember the Freiheit's” summer colonies” that were held in the Podbórner Forest.

And behold, suddenly everything has vanished and is gone. The wave of Hitlerism broke out and flooded every site throughout Poland, and the main victim was the Jewish people, and it didn't take long for these poisoned shards to reach our city, Tyszowce. Anti-Semitism bloomed and all the Poles raised their heads and started to harass the Jews. This was especially noticeable every Wednesday of the week, during market hours. Polish hooligans walked around and prevented Poles from shopping and buying from Jews, under the well-known slogan, “Poland for the Poles.”

In the meantime, livelihoods declined and the young people, together with the adults, began to search for possibilities and ways to leave Poland. In their hearts, they sensed and felt that a certain holocaust was hovering in the air, and that it was necessary to escape from it before it was too late. Some of the youth started to head to Hachshara^[4] kibbutzim in order to prepare themselves for aliyah to Israel, and some also managed to leave as tourists to Israel, of course only a few.

That's how the Second World War found me when I was in Hachshara in Kibbutz Grochów near Warsaw.

At the time of the Tyszowce fire I was not in the city. At the outbreak of the war I, like others, started to walk from Grochów across the cities of Poland in order to get home and reunite with my family, and I saw the cities of Poland in their ruins, their convulsions and their destruction. Finally, on the holiday of Sukkot, I arrived home and saw the city burned and destroyed.

And suddenly, a rumor spread that the Germans were returning to the city, and terror fell on all the city's surviving Jews. By a miracle, our house didn't burn, because mostly Poles lived in this area by the river. And indeed, our whole family gathered in our apartment where they also prayed in public, because the Beit HaMidrash and all the shtibelach, which were used as a place of prayer, were destroyed to the ground.

All my friends fled across the Bug River, and some of them fled in the direction of the city of Ludmir. My parents didn't let me go because the wounds on my legs, from my walk from Grochów, had not yet healed. However, I could not come to terms with the situation because we received horrifying news about transports

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of Jews to Zbaszyn and other location from which they did not return. Later, the Poles finished the Germans' work and helped them eliminate the Jews. No wonder that Jews ran in every direction and every wind without knowing where, and no one wanted to help them. Also in Kibbutz Grochów the youth didn't know what the day would bring. And then, in this situation of the “sinking of the world,” I decided to leave the city and to try to escape in order to be saved from this vale of tears. And on Thursday, it was on Shemini Atzeret of Sukkot… I left my hometown, Tyszowce, in which my family built its future, in which my cradle stood, and in which I wove the dreams of my youth, forever.

The Hebrew class group

1. Freiheit-Dror (lit. “Freedom”), a Socialist Zionist youth movement founded before World War I in Russia, promoted national and Socialist values as well as Jewish culture. Return
2. Ein Harod is a kibbutz in northern Israel. Return
3. Aliyah (lit. “Ascent”) is the immigration of Jews from the Diaspora to Eretz Israel. Return
4. Hakhshara (lit. “Preparation”) the term is used for training programs in agricultural centers in which Zionist youth learned vocational skills necessary for their emigration to Israel, and subsequent life in kibbutzim. Return

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Keren Keyemet Leisrael committee in Tyszowce

1. The school was mixed, boys and girls together.
2. The pronunciation in which the subjects were taught was the Lithuanian pronunciation, or as we called it in Poland, the Ashkenazi (the parents didn't want to hear about the Sephardic pronunciation at all); and, especially, the teacher would be teaching bareheaded (I gave up on teaching bareheaded). In any case, it is understood that the struggle was not easy, but somehow we overcame all the obstacles and the school opened.

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The number of students doubled a month after the school's opening, and half a year later the number reached forty. Boys were taken out of the cheders and handed over to the school. There were cases where boys “went on strike” and demanded that their parents enroll them in the school instead of the cheders they attended. Melamdim [teachers] came to complain before the committee members about the loss of their

The Hebrew School in Tyszowce 1929, the teacher S. Hechtman

In the second school year we moved to another building in “Grabelia” whose rooms were spacious and suitable for a school. New furniture and modern school equipment such as maps, paintings, etc. were brought in, and only then did the regular work begin.

The success in the second year was greater than expected, the children spoke fluent Hebrew, and many of them excelled in their studies. Balls and celebrations were held for the benefit of various founds. The emissary of Keren Keyemet Leisrael [Jewish National Fund] from Eretz Yisrael, who visited the school in the second year of its existence, expressed his enthusiasm for the fact that of the dozens of towns in the vicinity there was only one Hebrew school in Tyszowce. Over time, religious studies teachers were added at the request of some of the parents. I didn't

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object because the number of students was already large and diverse, and I found this arrangement necessary for the benefit of the school.

The school was quite well established from a budgetary point of view, since the distribution of the annual payments was progressive; the rich gave a lot, and those who didn't have the means gave a little. In addition to that, the parents' committee found a sympathetic ear at the office of the community committee headed by Mr. Schtrozer, a very kind Jew who extended his help to us. But, above all, I must mention three names of parents without whose help the school couldn't exist. They invested a lot of their energy and wealth and deserve to be remembered, and they are: Feivel Kupershtock the founder. He invited me and encouraged me in the first days, and thanks to him I didn't leave Tyszowce after my first failures. After him the Nuster brothers and, the last one, Mr. Gelber Leibush, all of whom will be remembered fondly, and May HaShem avenge their blood.

I found great satisfaction in my work at the school, but also outside the school's walls I found a wide field for cultural and educational work. Evening classes for the youth were opened. I lectured in the branches of Halutz Hatzair [Young Pioneers] and Freiheit, and also lectured at the library of the professional union, HaAdom [the Red].

The school in Tyszowce was my last place of work before I emigrated, and the truth must be told for this reason, as well as for other reasons, that this town remains not only in my memory, but also in my heart. I found in it a lively and active youth who devoted their time and energy to all the movements that existed in Poland at the time.

Many of these youth fulfilled the order of fulfillment and immigrated, and they were the pride of the city. And although many of them immigrated to other countries, they must be credited for saving the lives of their relatives from the hands of the oppressor.

A few figures from among the city's Jews remain etched in my memory, as if they are sculpted in stone. From them I especially remember R' Shlomo Landau z”l, a superlative scholar whose conversations with me gave me pleasure.

Here is R' Avraham the Slaughterer, a strong Jew who speaks little and studies the Torah a lot, one of Tyszowce's Jews who raised his sons for Torah and work, the preacher, Pinchas Ginzburg, who spices his talks with riddles and wit, and here's the old Kallenberg who loves to joke. I talked with all of them many times, and their conversation was very pleasant for me. I will carry their memory in my heart.

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Tarbut school in Tyszowce, Lag B'Omer class 1935-1936

Two days before the final exams, the education commission of the current Polish government, closed the Jewish seminary under the pretext that it was a Communist nest. And we, the 32 seminarians in our fifth year, were prevented from taking the final exams, and thus, the legal right to practice teaching in the Jewish day schools in Poland was taken from us. This is not an accidental act on the part of the government. It is a well-planned act to suppress, terrorize, and destroy the spiritual-cultural life of Jews in Poland in general, and the Jewish school system in particular.

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The justifications for shutting down the schools are not always the same. In one city or shtetl the school building is declared to be too old and unsafe by the education commission, and a danger for children to study there. In a second place, the health commission declares the school's hygiene to be in a too deplorable state for the children. Or, again and again, a Communist nest.

Jews are also methodically pushed out of economic positions, and ruined through the high taxes imposed on them. Our existence itself is in danger.

So I sit here now in Tishevits and am astonished at what Tishevitsers occupy themselves with. I can, under no circumstances, believe that what my senses tell me is actually real, is actually taking place. Is it possible that Tishevits has become like a congealed motionless body of water in the middle of a raging sea, and still occupies itself with trivialities?! When the earth is on fire beneath our feet.?! Is it possible that Tishevits is still stuck in the swamp of Mendele's “Tuneyadevke”?!

After the whole renaissance the shtetl underwent in the last years is it back in its sweet torpor?! No, it's impossible!

But I am now a living witness to a senseless quarrel, of a blind fanaticism, an unbounded hatred, simply savage, carried on by the majority of religious Jews in Tishevits. The Jews from the Chasidic shtibls, the besmedresh Jews, the shul Jews, the community leaders, leaders of the philanthropic organizations, and just regular Jews of the shtetl. Fathers and mothers who should be concerned about their security and the security of their children in the truly fearful days for our people.

A quarrel between the ritual slaughterers rages in the shtetl. The sides struggle stubbornly. The Chasidic shtiblach, each with its slaughterers, stand in “military positions.” As if surrounded by fire. Each side bans the slaughter of the other side. The products of the slaughter of the opposing side are compared to carrion, as treyf as pork. The shtetl's daggers are drawn. Entire families are torn, at odds, blood enemies. Hatred devours them. Our own uncle Shmuel Reiz is on the opposing side and won't eat his father's slaughterings. And the tragi-comedy of it is that the poverty in his house is so great that the little scraps my mother gives to aunt Chaye from the slaughter that father brings home maintains the household of six children,

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literally keeping them alive. And now, Chaye is not allowed to take the scraps, because her husband is on the opposing side of the quarrel.

The greatest shame the shochets have to put up with is the women who come to the fowl house to slaughter their fowl. Each one of them lets the shochet from the other side know that his work is treyf. My uncle R' Nachum Helrubin, father's closest friend, presently in need, doesn't tire of scaring the women with kores^[2] for humiliating the talmid chochem, R' Abraham Shochet. And some, following his advice, come in fright to our house in their socks begging father for forgiveness. In the meantime, the shochets aren't earning any money. There seems to be no end in sight for the quarrel.

The big strong Kielc and Trisk shtibls want to make it so that their two shochets should be paid more by the kehile^[3] than the other shochets. My father, R' Abraham Shochet, and another shochet are on the weaker Chasidic side. That's why the common people stand behind my father. They come to my father with one argument, “R' Abraham, say the word and we will take care of these 'fine Jews.'” But my father doesn't want any revenge. He calms them down and sends them home to their wives and children.

It is hard for me to write about the sorrow and pain of my parents. Usually, cities and shtetls brag about their important people, about their intellectuals, hold them in respect.

But Tishevits is not able to. The Tishevits balebatim^[4], particularly the unlearned, don't appreciate whom they have here. They are no experts. My farther, R' Abraham Stern, is a big talmid chacham, and with no exaggeration on my part, one of the tzadikim and goanim of our generation. So how does Tishevits support him?

As my uncle R' Nachum says, “Rachman litzlan, Hashem yishmerenu.^[5]” Golden words. The Tishevits balebatim repay him and his household for as long as I can remember with animosity, envy, dishonor and shame.

I feel very constrained in the shtetl, like I'm suffocating. How long this darkness will endure is hard to say. I can't in any way come to terms with the fact that Tishevits is deaf and blind to everything happening in the country. That the shtetl Jews don't grasp their reality, or the reality of all Jews in present-day Poland.

It's not long, after all, since I came from Vilna, where I was witness to the daily hooligan excesses against Jews, and their possessions, led by the Endecja^[6] fascist youth.

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Jewish students are forced to sit on separate benches for Jews only. The Jewish students in the medical faculty do not allow the ND students into the laboratories. Fights break out between the demonstrating students of the left and right.

The police show up every time the ND students find themselves in a dangerous situation and throw themselves with rage on the antifascist demonstrators, and on the spontaneously organized Jewish self-defense groups. The antisemitic hooliganism is directed from above, by the fascist Polish government.

It makes the blood run cold to hear about the goings-on in the “prszitek.” The newspapers are full of news about the organized hooligan attacks across the country.

Jewish life is in chaos!

Tishevits, my shtetl, doesn't know what's going on in neighboring Germany where Hitler's gangs rampage openly and freely and sow destruction in everything that is human, cultural, liberal, democratic, to everything that is contrary to their bestiality, and most cogently, to our brothers and sisters! Hitler's agenda for conquest includes the total annihilation of our people. Our own government, with its own tradition of antisemitism and familiarity with Jew-hatred, receives their antisemitic hooliganisms with open arms. And here in the shtetl itself, I see patrols at the Jewish, almost empty stores, that prevent Christian customers from entering. “Each to his own.” The stinging whip held over the wretched Jewish attempts to make a living. The heavy taxes are a very heavy burden for everyone here. There are no means to pay them. Little by little, furniture is taken away, bedding. What ever is possible, and whatever is still left. This week, they took my aunt Chaye's candlesticks for taxes.

The shtetl is poor. The shtetl is hungry. Some sneak out and go house to house begging for alms. But the shtetl Jews seems not to be occupied with these worries. They are preoccupied with “more worthy matters” — with quarrels — how is it possible?!

Is it only small-townness, or shortsightedness, or plain madness, or a distraction to evade the realities of the day? The country is in chaos: crises, unemployment, strikes, demonstrations, arrests. The ground is burning under everyone's feet, especially under the feet of us Jews. Does none of this have no relevance to Tishevits?!

What is the political orientation of the Jews in Tishevits? Is Tishevits really a shtetl unlike every other one on the map? Is everything here upside-down?

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It has been decades since Tishevits opened wide to the big city and the wider world. The shtetl is in constant direct contact with everything that occurs in the country and around the world. The merchants in the shtetl trade with other shtetls in the country. The working youth travel to find work. Young people travel to study in the big cities of the country and abroad. The youth in general strive to get out in the world. Newspapers published across the country come to the shtetl. Is the shtetl really reflective of the other cities and shtetls in the land?

But the youth are in tune with the times. There are active parties of all kinds — a trade union, the Bund, Zionist parties of all stripes. And all the parties engage in cultural work with their members. The young are taught to read and write Yiddish, become politically conscious, learn to read a literary work. They hold public lectures organized by their own efforts, and they bring in chaverim from the centers. There is a big library managed by the Bund, and the left Polei Zion, and smaller libraries run by the other parties. The Zionist parties study Hebrew with their members. Practically every party has an amateur drama club, and some have choirs as well.

The trade union, led by the left, defends the proletarian interests of the workers, against the bosses, neither of whom have the wherewithal to get though the day. But mainly, the trade union youth prepare for the proletarian revolution. And according to chaver Steinshreiber, the head theoretician here, the revolution is imminent. And according to his strategy, “The revolution will begin first here in Tishevits, and spread to Warsaw.”

“What's the point?” He tells me that “this is because the leftist 'Selrobnikes' in our neighborhood are organizing the villages and are almost done, and we have to be ready.” And the believing youth are getting ready. Motye Katz sleeps in his clothes “in order to be always ready, and not miss the proletarian revolution.”

It's really impractical, small townish, but how many naively believe. Meanwhile, they are being sent off to prison or exiled to “Kartuz-Bereza.”

The biggest influence on the young people of the shtetl are the Zionist parties, the Revisionists, and right and left Poalei Zion. The youngsters in the Zionist parties are preparing to make aliyah to Eretz Israel. They are ready to go this minute should the gates to Eretz Israel open. Meanwhile, everyone waits for his “lottery,” his certificate,

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because the gates to our holy land are well guarded and prevent us from getting in to our own home! How tragically comic?! The Poles cry as if possessed, “Jews to Palestine!” And England forges an iron chain around the borders of tiny Eretz Israel that lies desolate since the destruction of the Second Temple.

The Jewish youth, unwanted by Poland, unneeded by England, locked out of the Americas, are desperate to go home to build the land of their forefathers — to remake themselves. They want to stop being superfluous to the world, save themselves from the abyss, become healthy, productive, normal. They must wait for the mercy of the Balfour Declaration. The younger grownup generation is aware of today's terrifying reality and is ready, everyone in his place and in his ranks.

My shteteleh, Tishevits, has received the pleasant scent of the big city

A group of “Yungboristen” with the instructors before the departure of chaver Israel Stern to Vilna

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and processed it in its own characteristic way that has been felt here for years.

But for the quarreling Jews, to the clergy, it has no relevance. They, it seems, remained with their own specific scent.

I've just come from a meeting, a meeting that will write a very important chapter in the history of our shtetl.

A committee from the left Poalei Zion in Tishevits, under the leadership of Noteh Rosenzweig, negotiated with me the possibility of opening a Jewish school, a Jewish supplementary school. This will be a new type of school. All the other Tsisho schools in the country are full-time schools, where Jewish students receive Jewish instruction as well as general studies in their own schools with Yiddish as the language of instruction. The school we want to create would be a supplementary school to teach Yiddish and Jewish themes with Jewish children who get their general knowledge in the Polish schools, in “szkola.” A supplementary school can in time become a full-time Jewish school. And there has long been a need for such a school in Tishevits. Just as the Tarbut^[7] schools have been successful.

Children for a Jewish school there are. Parents who would send their children to a Jewish school also exist here. The side streets of the tradesmen, workers, and poor storekeepers can be the foundation of the Jewish school. The main reason why we haven't had one yet is strictly one of means. We never had the funds to rent a suitable building, or to hire a teacher. The main difficulty is the building, because here we had to rely on the generosity of the government inspection commission trustees who discriminate openly against our school system. It seeks and finds ways to destroy our existing schools, much less to allow new schools to be built.

Today the obstacles disappear. A teacher is present — me. And a school building we also don't need. We can use our party locale. The supplementary school we legitimize as evening courses for children under the “social evening classes” of the left Poalei Zion. We function as an organisation under the same name. We carry on with “evening classes for adult” working boys and girls. We carry out educational work with our party members, “Die Yugent,” and “Yung-Bor.” We teach them to read and write Yiddish. We teach

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them our party platform. We read the newspapers and political journals with them. We teach them to enjoy artistic narratives and verse from our Jewish literature, and literature in general. We instill them with belief and courage as Jews and as people. Through example, we teach them how to be good, loyal chaverim. To help one another when in need.

The main leaders and teachers of Yugent, and Yung-Bor of the left Polaei Zion since its founding in Tishevits, are Noteh Rosenzweig, and my brother, Israel Stern. Until now, I was capable of working with and helping out only at Pesach and in summer when I come home from the seminary on school holidays. My brother, Yechiel Stern, also takes an active part when he comes to the shtetl. Now that I'm back home, we both carry on with the work, Noteh and I. Israel is in Vilna, studying in the Jewish polytechnic.

Yung-Bor was created by Israel Stern. His work with the youngsters was wonderful. His hard efforts and work produced and produce fruitful results. Israel created a choir of young people and small kids. The choir director is a young man who definitely has the talent to become a good conductor. The same with the drama club. The troupe is serious and devoted. Some of them are born talents. It's a pity that we don't have the means to send them to drama school.

A well-organized youth committee functions and comprehends the seriousness and responsibility of contributing to the holy work of their comrades and teachers. We are getting ready now for a performance. The cooperation of the youth and children is amazing. And if we take into account that these are young girls and boys, wage-earners who work all day, their evenings and Saturday their only free time that they give away to the organization, we can well appreciate the good work of their chaverim-teachers, as well as the readiness of our youth and children to learn.

It's very late at night, and I am very tired. But I must quickly make a note while the impression is still fresh.

Our performance went well. And that is the best reward. The choir was a big hit. I studied the songs with them, but the director on the stage was our Abraham Shafrach. A pity, a pity, with proper training he could grow up to be a good conductor. The performance succeeded well. Real life was portrayed on the stage. Some displayed

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real talent. In general, all the participants really got into the drama from Y. L. Peretz, “Amol is Geven a Melech.^[8]”

It was really crowded, both in the hall and on the stage. A stage of a couple of boards, and the play demanded space. The presentation and arrangements cost a lot sweat. But the rewards are there. The audience was enchanted. Our performances are always warmly received by the Tishevits audience. We always played to a full house. And today's performance as well ended in quite an exalted mood. The actors are beside themselves with joy, and are ready for me to start rehearsing with them a new play, and they are readying themselves for a new performance. But I need to take a break for a while.

Tomorrow I begin to teach in the supplementary school. With the evening classes for adults that I lead and teach in the evenings, I will have little time left for rehearsals. But Chol-Hamoed Pesach we will be ready to step out with a new production.

I've just come in from my work at school. Today is a historic day for us. The inauguration of our Jewish supplementary school. And from a supplementary school to a fuller “Jewish school” like all the other Tsisho schools in the country.

The mood of the children is good and celebratory, radiant, with shining eyes like quicksilver from anticipation and excitement. Studying with them is so satisfying, simple and natural. Everything I did with them, they received with joy. They took part in the learning with fascination, faith, and curiosity not to miss or lose anything.

We have three groups of children. Classification is based on age. Shortly, we will have more groupings. I am already in correspondence with a girlfriend, a teacher from the Vilna teacher's seminary from the same course as me, to come and work with me at the school.

The classes start at three in the afternoon. Each group learns for one hour at the moment. We will certainly extend the class time when my friend arrives. In the meantime, it's impossible, because aside from the three groups at the school, I teach the adult evening classes from eight to ten at night, and I believe that for the kids as well it's better to begin like this. Let them slowly get used to the extra time they have to spend in the supplementary school after spending five, six hours in the Polish elementary school.

I get so much joy and satisfaction from teaching the children. So much contentment. I can work and work with the children with no rest, and

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not feel tired. I hope it lasts. Fear trembles in me, and my heart is heavy. Before I could even set foot in the school, I received a delegation of balebatim who came to warn my father, R' Abraham Shochet he should not allow me to become a teacher for the “Reds.” That's what they call the school for the poor small children. “It's not appropriate,” they say, “that the shochet's daughter should teach there.” Secondly, they claim that I myself teach them to become Reds. I could not and should not put up with this. I really unmasked them, showed their true intentions. I pretended not to notice, and I began the school work today, and I will continue with all my strength.

I have all the odds of winning this war that the “fine Jews” and their hangers-on foisted on me since it became known in the shtetl that we were opening a Jewish school. The parents of the school kids are with us, and are ready to undertake the challenge. But I can't forget that I am a shochet's daughter and I am in the hands of the Tishevits big shots. What they can't do to me they will wreak on my father R' Abraham Shochet and take it out on him. Therefore, my hands are really tied. How good it would be if my friend were already here. Their main weapon would be useless. Not a shochet's daughter, and especially not Abraham Shochet's daughter. With no other shochets or shochet's children do the Jewish functionaries have as much concern as with my father, R' Abraham Shochet and his household.

Work at school is proceeding normally. New children are always coming. I know them well. The groups are well established.

The children learn with enthusiasm. They really like the school, and don't even want to go home after the classes are over. The parents are also happy. It turns out that some of them come to the school and stand outside in the hallway when I'm teaching the kids and listen in. Afterwards they go and defend me against those who plot against me saying I am teaching godlessness to the kids. Ruchel, the poultry seller, is ready to swear that she heard me tell the children a story about Eliyahu Hanavi and always exclaiming, “Raboinusheloilem.”

An orgy of hatred is really directed at the school and at me. I go on with my work and don't pay it any attention. It's just a little hard for me not to have the materials I need for work. I have to set everything up and make it myself. Even books for the children. So I sit for hours in the library, and choose appropriate songs and stories from our poets and prose writers.

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I have to go to school soon. The kids are waiting for me already. After the antisemitic day school they really run to the Jewish school. They come here to lift up their depressed spirits. To improve their dejected mood. To feel like equals. They play here. They sing and dance here, not afraid to be children, and to act like children. Here they forget for a moment the poverty of their homes, and the Jew designation that the outside world foists on them at such a young age.

But dark forces in our own streets do not permit them a little joy. They obstruct, and do everything, and use any means, indiscriminately: provocation, lies and even denunciation, in order to take away from the very poor, reinvigorated Jewish children their only warm, bright corner, the Jewish school.

Their parents, tradesmen, workers, and poor storekeepers are saddened and embittered. They are ready for anything as long as they can protect the school and me. I have trouble keeping them calm. If I would permit it, they would have long ago already beaten up those who really deserved it. Because the “fine Jews” from the Radziner shtibl, who carry on vendettas against our school are not fussy about means. Betrayal is even kosher. And they help out the reactionaries in the shtetl, the big-shots, who are always on the lookout for opportunities to let loose.

Yesterday I had a guest in the middle of teaching. The policeman, Kotlicki. Kotlicki actually spoke Yiddish to me, as is his habit. He excused himself to me. He esteems me highly, because I am “the rabbi's daughter.” He's referring to my father. He didn't have a problem telling me who sent him here. They say we are the real subversives. He can't help himself. He has to do what he has to do. I showed him what I do with the children. Showed him our permission for the school. With difficulty, I persuaded him we are all for Palestine. This saved me for the moment from being arrested and the school closed. He warned me that he was letting me go for now because of my father, “the rabbi.” “He is a great man, but if your “Yiddelach” persist, I won't be able to help.”

A delegation of parents went to the rabbi and demanded that he quiet down the plotting and the betrayals. Otherwise, blood will run. The rabbi promised to do so. But what can he do? I know the truth after all. Meanwhile, I am not surrendering. In school with the children, I forget about all the dangers that lie in wait for our new saplings that bloom and grow every day, and that have all the possibilities to grow further and develop into a full,

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thriving tree like all the other Jewish schools in the country. Aside from the children and their parents, my parents and my sister, Heneh, also give me strength to hold fast and continue with my work.

I'm not sure if I can continue to support the school much longer. Not because I am one of the frightened. If it were only up to me, they would have already lost.

My blood still boils over for my brothers who were tormented here by the same prominent city-balebatim. My ears still hear the slaps my brothers received from the Bentche-Hertzkes in the besmedresh while davening, while studying, because a shochet's children are unruly, and of course, of course, R' Abraham Shochet's children.

No, they can't break me. Five years of teacher seminary have steeled me for resistance. Five years I endured hunger in order to become a Jewish teacher. And I will be that. The love and devotion for the Jewish language and Jewish content that my teachers instilled in me, I will continue to try to instill in my young students. “Otherwise,” my teacher Dr. Y. Biber used to say, “the wish of those who want to destroy us, the Jew-hatred everywhere and here in our country, will be fulfilled.” If I have to give up, it will be because of my father. The opposition leaders have used up all their weapons to no avail. On the contrary, the school grows in popularity. Children from well-to-do families are registering.

So they have taken to going after my father now, R' Abraham Shochet alone. They abuse him, torment him. So much so that he doesn't daven in the besmedresh weekdays as was his wont. My uncle, R' Nachum Helrubin, always comes to scrutinize me, “Nu, nu, Shifra, how will it end? You are in the right, but have pity on your father.”

My father is unrecognizable. He goes around stooped, saddened, but he says nothing. It seems that his silence is his way of waging a quiet struggle with those in the wrong. My father, R' Abraham Shochet is a great scholar, immensely devout, with an acute sense of worldly subjects. He understands very well the politics, and background of all the issues, and he certainly knows the truth that lies under the whole hullabaloo, why they won't let me teach in the school. Just like me, he understands that it has absolutely nothing to do with Reds, or Godlessness. The unadulterated truth is that the “Agudahniks” want to open a Bet Yakov school, and they see our school as a big competition. So they're looking for an excuse to get rid of us. And since all methods

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are kosher for them, they use this. And with all their libels and lies, they have recruited people like they themselves, and some simply from envy, begrudging me my teaching.

The Agudahniks know that without me the school could not exist. First financially, being from the shtetl I can teach for minimal pay. And then, my good reputation in Tishevits. It's not only the poor and the common people who bring their children, but also the well- off who would not bring their children if I were not the teacher. The Agudahniks know both of these things, the material needs of the school and its founders, and the reputation of the teacher. Therefore, they want to get rid of me. In me, they have a good target. I am in their hands. They could not have drawn a better card.

In reality, I should give up soon. I can't, under any circumstances, risk the health of my father. However, I'm young. And young blood boils and revolts, and does not want, under any circumstances, to give up.

So I go on with the work, look into my father's eyes, and am afraid for the verdict coming. Only my father can stop me from my school work. I may not expose him to this temptation, but I can't help myself. On my own, I won't quit the school work. I alone can't, under any circumstances, close the school.

It's twelve noon. I've just come from the library. I worked there from eight in the morning. I've chosen and put together enough material for a whole month, that means until Pesach. I created a detailed teaching plan for all the groups in school, and for the adult evening classes. Coming into the house, I immediately saw that I wouldn't be using my new material and work plans in our school.

From the agitated discussion between my mother and my sister on one side, and my father on the other side, everything was clear to me. The Agudahniks, and the whole gang, are threatening to take away his shochet trade. They made it more pointed: Me or my father. My mother, Gitl the shoicheteh, and my sister, Heneh, insist that he should not agree. “They didn't make him a shochet, and they can't make him an ex-shochet.” “Once and for all, he should stick up for his honor, and the honor of his family.” And similar valid arguments. Both are very rebellious

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and ready to fight. How grateful I am to them. Father knows all this. Maybe he also wants this. He has become old and grey from all the Tishevits work. All his sons have been driven far away. But he can't help himself. He's not a fighter. He doesn't have the physical or spiritual strength. Peace is his nature. He is so sick and tired of all this.

Today it seems I must give up my school work. There's no helping it. I have to bear witness to the destruction of a holy building, the Jewish school. A pity the children, a pity their parents.

It's late at night. Today I bade farewell to my little kids. I told the truth to the third class. The children burst into tears. I was angry, the pain fresh, and I also cried. We all cried. Finally, I mustered my courage, quieted down the children. I read Sholom Aleichem's “Tzvei Shalach Mones,” and distracted them from their sorrow. They really identified with the story, laughing and crying from pleasure. As we were parting, I had to promise them that I would come back tomorrow. ”You won't abandon us, chaverte Shifra, right?” they pleaded with me for assurance.

The first class, I taught as usual. I danced with them, sang with them, told them a story in honor of Purim. I couldn't tell them it was the last lecture. And this was the way with the second class too. How many broken little hearts can I see? The evening groups were more grown up. They already knew the news. As soon as I walked in, they began to cry. “What do you mean, they're taking our school, our home, away from us?”

I sat with them, tried to sing with them, tried to read them something, tell stories, play, but it didn't work. The children did not stop crying. “We have nothing again.” How can I help them? A deep sadness weeps in me as well.

1. Acronym for Tsentrale Yiddishe Shul-Organizatsye (Central Yiddish School Organization). Secular Jewish schools under socialist auspices. Return
2. Divine retribution Return
3. Jewish community. Shochets were engaged by the community officers and paid from community funds. Return
4. Bosses, businessmen, proprietors, or regular folks Return
5. May the All-Merciful protect us, may God protect us Return
6. The Narodowa Democracja party (ND) was a fascist pre-war political party promoting boycotting of Jewish businesses. Return
7. Secular schools teaching in Hebrew Return
8. “Once there was a king.” Return

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This happened before WWI. A Jewish girl (around 20 years of age) ran away from the village of Niewirkow a few kilometers from Tishevits. It was said that either the local priest convinced her to convert, or she had fallen in love with a Christian from the village and because of him she converted. The latter was correct.

One can imagine what kind of impression that made on the Tishevits Jews of that time! The family of the girl was frantic to get her back. The Niewirkower father was well off. He used to, as it is said, “spread money in the streets.” He paid a lot of money to all the priests in the area who promised him they would find his daughter. He also travelled to pious Jews, gave significant amounts of money, but his daughter could not be found. It was as if she had vanished into the earth. It was rumored that she was in the convent in Terkowicz, a village near Niewirkow, but no one could get in there. The parents of the girl hung around the convent for weeks on end, hoping for a miracle, hoping to see their daughter. But they had no sign at all that their daughter was in the convent.

After several months of searching with no success, the parents tore their clothing in mourning, and sat shiva for their daughter exactly as if she were dead, and if she had converted, she was no longer alive to them anyway.

Late in the summer, after harvest time, on a Saturday, a wagon drove into town in which a nun was seated and next to her a young girl of about the same age as the lost Jewish girl. They drove over to the administrative office (in Polish, Gmina).

As they were getting down from the wagon to go into the offices, a passerby recognized the girl as the one missing from the village. Tishevits Jews began to congregate at the offices, men, women, a few hundred people. They wanted to forcibly detain the girl. The writer (secretary) and the voit^[1] seeing

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the agitation of the Tishevits Jews, locked the doors of the offices. The mob was ready to break down the doors. But one of the mob, a more reasonable person, suggested, “Since we are not 100 percent certain she is the Niewirkow girl, we should run and get her father. If he were to identify her as his daughter, then we will see what has to be done.” But how can we get the father if he lives outside our area? From Tishevits to Niewirkow was a distance of 7-8 km. There were no telephones in Tishevits yet. There were no “samachods” either (cars in Russian). The only method of communication was by horse and rider. But what to do? It was Shabbes. They went off to the rabbi, rav Shemeshele, who gave permission for a rider to go and bring back the father from Niewirkow.

At the same time as the rider went off to bring the father of the daughter, another rider, that the Tishevits Jews knew nothing about, was riding off on another road. The writer and the voit, saw that the mob was ready to break down the doors and take the girl, and knew that they could do nothing in the face of the mob even if they brought in the police to help. There were at the time 3 policemen in Tishevits (strazhnikes they were called). They sent an assistant secretary out the back door, and he went off to Prespa, a village near Tishovits, but in another direction, the same distance from Tishevits as Niewirkow. At that time there was a company of Cossacks there on summer maneuvers. The assistant was carrying a letter to the Cossack company commander, asking them to come help them against the Jewish attack.

You can imagine what would happen if the Cossacks came to Tishevits and encountered several hundred Jews attacking the offices. But a miracle occurred. The rider to Niewirkow rode a lot faster that the rider to Prespa, and he brought the girl's father. He maintained that it was not his daughter. (It was said that the father, upon seeing with what chutzpa his daughter, a cross hanging from her neck, looked at him through the window, did not want to recognize her).

Meanwhile, it was time for Mincha, and the crowd dispersed. Later when the Cossacks arrived, there was hardly anyone left at the offices. Thus, we were saved from a certain pogrom.

The more pious Jews of Tishevits later said that the Jewish rider who rode off in the cause of a mitzvah was endowed with “kfitses-haderech,”^[2]

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and by virtue of the Jews going off collectively to daven Mincha, we avoided a great calamity.

Tel Aviv, August, 1965

1. Village mayor, justice of the peace Return
2. Supernatural ability to transport oneself instantly to a distant place. Return

It happened in 1907. That year winter lasted long. There were severe blizzards on Pesach. Soon after Pesach, spring arrived with huge rains. Days and weeks went by without a ray of sun penetrating the heavy, black clouds. My grandfather, R' Yakov Ginsberg (the author of the book, Zichron Yakov, a commentary on fruits in the Yoreh De'Ah, salting laws, meat, and milk, and mixtures), died then.

Grandfather died on a Thursday afternoon. His two sons, R' Pinchas Ginsberg, and Moishe Ginsberg, were not in Tishevits. R' Pinchas, the magid^[1], was on the road, and the other one lived in Lodz. When they were informed of the death of their father, they telegrammed that they would come to his burial. Because of that, the burial was postponed to Friday morning.

Friday morning the preparations for the burial began. The deceased was purified according to law, but due to the rains, the two sons were delayed a little, and when they finally arrived, the burial was further delayed because the rains had flooded the streets.

I remember that awful day! The washing of the corpse took place in our house by lamplight. It was so dark in the house, the street, and in our hearts. A crowd gathered in our house. We waited for the rain to let up a little so we could get on with the funeral. In the meantime we studied mishnayes. Among the crowd, was also R' Shmuel Sofer, a”h. Affected by the depression caused by the death, and the rain, he found a nutrikn^[2] from the year 5667^[3], in Polish, “This year is only full of bad.”

The rain stopped at about 2:00 o'clock in the afternoon. We began to hurry to the burial. It was, however, Friday, and from us to the cemetery was a great distance. By 4:00 o'clock the grave had been filled in,

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and at that moment, the sun broke through the clouds. Everyone standing near the grave was stunned to see that in a corner of the fresh mound of earth the shadow of a cross appeared!

It happened like this: not far from the cemetery there was a Christian house, and near the house, a wooden cross maybe 8 meters high. In the evening, at sunset, when the shadows lengthened, the shadow of the crucifix reached grandfather's grave. It lasted only a few minutes because the sun was setting further and faster. Nevertheless, you can imagine the impression the shadow made on everyone, and especially the Bnei Yakov.

The whole crowd went home very upset. Saturday night, the cross was burned down. As mentioned, the cross was 8 meters high, and right next to it was a farmhouse 3 meters high. The cross burned only from the top of the house and higher. The Tishevits Jews saw this as a sign from heaven. Those who are expert in crucifix law said that according to “their” laws, you can't erect a wooden cross in the place where there had been one already. You could build a new one from bricks, or pour one from concrete, but such a cross could only be 4 meters high maximum. The shadow of such a crucifix would not reach the grave. Turns out the “experts” were right. When I left Tishevits to make aliyah to Israel, in the year 5693^[4], that is 26 years after this incident, the burned-out pillar was still standing unrepaired. Later, during the war, the Nazis, may their name be erased, destroyed the cemetery. They used the tombstones to pave sidewalks, and ploughed up the ground, so that the old Tishevits cemetery, with the grave of Moshiach Ben Yosef, no longer exists, like the cross, so that from everything, no trace remains.

When I was older, I asked my parents, and in general everyone who had a connection to our family, how did the cross catch on fire? Who in our family had done this? How much did it cost to do this bit of work? But I came to the conclusion that nobody in our family had done this or had helped do this, and it has remained a mystery until today.

It's worth adding that from the work mentioned earlier, Zichron Yakov, only the first part, Halachot Mlichah, was published. The other two parts, Basar V'chalav, and Ta'arovet which were much bigger than the first part, grandfather, a”h, was unable to get printed while he was alive. The section, Basar v'chalav, I reworked (from my grandfather's manuscript) when I

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made Aliyah to Israel, which I left with my brother, Itzchak, a”h. The portion, Ta'arovet, was with my uncle in Lodz, R' Moishe Ginsberg, z”l, who also prepared it for printing. During the war it was destroyed along with my family. Of the 10 thousand copies of Halachot Mlicha printed, all of which were sold, only one copy remained with our family which my father-in-law and uncle, R' Pinchas Ginsberg, brought with him to Israel. The copy is now in the library of Hebrew University in Jerusalem.

Grandfather, a”h, had his diploma for the rabbinate. He did not use it to become a rabbi, but he always took part with the rav in delivering a judgment, as well as in questions of kashrut and treyf.

I have a judgment from my grandfather, a”h, in his handwriting (understandably in loshen koidesh)^[5] that he delivered as sole arbiter in 1884 in a din-Torah between R' Dovid Kuperstock, a”h, (Henich Kuperstock's father) the “prosecutor,” and R' Eliyahu Milich, a”h, (the father of the famous painter, Adolph Milich) as defendant.

In Tishevits grandfather was “a mefitz Torah b'rabim^[6].” In the Trisker shtibl, he used to give lessons in Talmud and Jewish law to anyone who wanted to come. I still remember a lot of the scholars in Tishevits who used to come to our place to hear a lesson in Talmud from my grandfather.

There is no picture of my grandfather, because he never allowed himself to be photographed.

1. Itinerant preacher. Return
2. Mystical technique whereby the letters of a Hebrew word are interpreted as initials of other words. Return
3. 1906-1907 Return
4. 1932/1933 Return
5. Hebrew Return
6. Spreader of Torah Return

“Then, came before me the men, and they are, the community leader, our teacher and rabbi, R' David Kupersztok, and the community leader, our teacher and rabbi, R' Eliyahu Milich, from here (Tyszowce), and the aforementioned R' David sued the aforementioned R' Eliyahu with the authorization (power of attorney) of his grandfather, R' Shmuel Zwillich, how when the aforementioned R' Shmuel sat and lived at the home of the aforementioned R' Eliyahu, the customs officers found and took the “Peasch vodka” (kosher vodka for Passover) (in Tsarist Russia, all vodka production was under the sole control of the government, a special license was needed to sell vodka and, whoever sold vodka without a license, was liable to punishment and imprisonment) that R' Eliyahu hid at the aforementioned R' Shmuel's, and so that R' Shmuel would not say and place the blame on R' Eliyahu, R' Eliyahu immediately gave him ten rubles and also promised him that if a financial fine would be imposed on him according to the state law, the aforementioned R' Eliyahu will pay everything out of his own pocket and, God forbid, no harm or loss from this would come to R' Shmuel, and now the aforementioned R' David showed a receipt how his grandfather, R' Shmuel, was forced to pay eighteen rubles and forty eight kopecks according to the judgment of the Magistrate's Court, and now he is suing the aforementioned R' Eliyahu to pay him the balance, that is, the sum of eight rubles and forty eight kopecks (a kopeck was a 100^th

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part of a ruble) and R' Eliyahu replied against him with some claims of his own, and that of his son R' Moshe Milich, what is due to him from R' Shmuel and, apart from that, he claimed that R' Shmuel once promised him two lumber wagons worth three rubles as a commission and brokerage fee, so that he would try to lend a total of two hundred rubles to the master (Polish landowner), and R' Eliyahu has done so, and tried with

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great efforts until he obtained the aforementioned sum of money, and after a while, when the master returned the aforementioned amount, he did not give R' Eliyahu anything for his trouble, and now R' Eliyahu is demanding from R' Shmuel the sum of three rubles for all those who came and asked him to tell them his opinion, a decisive opinion according to Jewish law, and they also agreed to approve and comply with everything that came out of his mouth without any change at all, to both the law and the compromise. After hearing all their claims, without exception and also fraud, everything in the balance of justice, I have decided that a sum of three rubles would be deducted for R' Eliyahu from the aforementioned amount that Shmuel is demanding from him, and if so, R' Eliyahu owes R' Shmuel, or R' David who came with his authorization, the amount of five rubles and forty eight kopecks. Regarding the claim that R' Eliyahu is demanding a fee of three rubles from him for professional services and R' Shmuel denies it, when R' Eliyahu will give a handshake that I will honor, he will deduct the three rubles, and then two rubles and forty eight kopecks will come from him, and if he doesn't want to give a handshake about it, then the aforementioned debt of a total of five rubles and forty eight kopecks is as before, and R' Eliyahu is obliged to pay it without any claim at all - and to prove all the above, I signed today (Monday, 7) Nisan 5645 (1885) here in Tyszowce, the words of Yakov Ginzburg.”

To the former residents of Tyszowce I will describe who are the litigants mentioned in the above letter. David Kupersztok was the father of Hanoch Kupersztok who was called Davidtche Tatele's in Tyszowce, and Shmuel Zwillich was the grandfather of the aforementioned David on his mother's side.

Eliyahu Milich, who was called Eli Walfzitz in Tyszowce, was the father of the well known painter Adolphe Milich, and Moshe Milich was the brother of the aforementioned painter.

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