Of Bygone Days

Rabbi M. Halevi, Yavniel, Israel

    If the author of the Song of Songs were to seek a phrase to characterize the town of Stavisht, he would certainly choose the words, I am dark but comely, daughters of Jerusalem. For indeed the outward appearance of the town was dark and dismal. If you would look at its inhabitants you would think : Here are the descendants of the exiles of ancient Judea, the signs of their wanderings and travail etched on their faces and reflected in their eyes, full of longing, deep concern for making a living, fear of the gentile, and readiness to flatter him or to be beaten.

   The streets on which they lived lacked anything to please the eye. There was almost no sign of green. The rows of houses were crooked and dilapidated; there were no paved sidewalks; many of the houses had no courtyards or even gates, and their floors were of clay, freshened every Sabbath eve.

   The impression of poverty given by the Jewish neighborhood was underscored by its juxtaposition with the beautiful grounds surrounding the palace of the Count - the landowner. Here the houses were well built, there were well-tended gardens, lawns and flowers, peace and beauty. Here were the homes of the many officials who worked in the splendid office of the Count, involved in managing his estates.

   "I am with him in misfortune". The Shekhinah [Divine Presence] too was in exile: the Bet Hamidrash , the Talnoye Kloyz, and the Makarov Kloyz were on the second floors of shops, with no boundaries between holy and secular.

   "I am dark on the outside, as the tents of Kedar, but beautiful within, as the tent of Solomon". The holy congregation distinguished itself and expressed its spirituality in three ways:

   A. Zionism. This poor community bought 200 shares of the Colonial Bank. Two thousand pounds sterling was an enormous sum in Stavisht sixty years ago. When they read in the newspaper that Dr. Herzl had said that if he had the entire sum that had been promised for the bank it would help enormously in his negotiations with the rulers of Turkey, they sent a representative to Kiev to Professor Mandelshtam to ask him for details and to tell him that if this were indeed the case, they were prepared to make inordinate sacrifices, even to sell the pillows from under their heads, in order to help. The noble professor calmed them down and told them that matters had not yet come to such a pass.The Zionists in Stavisht built their own synagogue. Their by-laws were composed and written by Yaakov Koplivitski, whose Hebrew pen was that of a good scribe. I have not seen the pinkas but some of the by-laws were transmitted to me orally and they are:

• Every one who attends the synagogue regularly must buy a shekel every year.
• On the first night of Selihot the gaba'im for the following year and the permanent seats of the worshippers would be chosen by lot.
• The gaba'im would be in charge of the budget and on Yom Kippur eve everyone was obligated to pay what he had promised according to his means. If for some reason someone refused to pay, Kol Nidre would be delayed until the miscreant promised to annul his refusal.
• The synagogue would receive no charitable contributions.
• On Simhat Torah everyone would volunteer a donation to the Jewish National Fund according to his means.
• Next to the Reader of the Torah there would be a box in which the names of all members would be kept. The Reader would pick a name out of the box for each aliyah. He would put the name of one who had been called into a second box. After all of the slips of paper had been removed from the first box, he would mix them up in the second box and the aliyot would again be assigned by lot.

   What beautifully simple and egalitarian principles in the House of God!

   I must here mention the names of those who left for Erets Yisrael in the days of the Second Aliyah, hoping to find a way to make a living there. They were: Shlomo Solgenik, Leyb Vaisman, and later, Eliyahu the stove builder. They returned, but their attempt reflects their longing for redemption.

    "In his book, Mi-yamim rishonim", A. Druyanov tells about the attempt by Yosef Kuderansky to purchase large tracts of land near Beersheva. For this purpose an organization was formed, Agudat Yisrael, and one of the branches was in Stavisht.

   The Zionist spirit here was also the reason I was brought to Stavisht from Rabbi Reines yeshiva to serve as rabbi. To celebrate the occasion representatives from Zhashkov came to greet me, and among there were Eliyahu Dayan, a member of Ein Ganim, and one of the founders of Nahalal, as well as his brother, Shmuel Dayan, who had come from Deganya to visit his parents in Zhashkov, and stayed in the home of the Zionist rabbi for a few days.

   The elders of Stavisht who were hasidim wondered: A Litvak, a Zionist, who does not belong to any hasidic sect, how will he teach Torah? But permit me to reveal that the young man, in his innocence, his ways, and his speech, quickly won the full support of the community.

   B. The Talmud Torah. In those days, when the heder, in its old form, was the only popular way of education for most of the children in the Pale of Settlement, the Zionists of Stavisht established the Talmud Torah in modern form. It was in a suitable building, with a separate teacher for each class, with singing and with graduation certificates and under the supervision of the Kiev branch of the Hevrat Mefitse Haskala.

   The first principal was Efrayim Fukson. The Talmud Torah cost its supporters a great deal of money. They were all members of the middle class who hoped that the success of the institution would bring returns on their investments. Here I should mention that Yitshak Besidski invested all of his money, 800 rubles, in the venture, a fortune in those days. I never heard the investors bemoan the loss of their funds.

   In the book, "Naftule dor", in the article on Prisoners of Zion, there is mention of Riva Besidski, daughter of Yitshak, as one of those imprisoned in Siberia.

   C. Prayer. I came to Stavisht from Bielarus and was deeply impressed by the heartfelt liturgy of the Ukrainian Jews. Even the daily Minha was for them a time of singing of Psalms.

   Every synagogue in Stavisht had a paid cantor. The cantors Shmuel of the Bet Hamidrash and Efrayim of Sha'ar Tsiyon chanted beautifully. The last named was a pupil of Zaydl Rovner and knew how to read music. He organized a choir of local boys who sang on the holidays. It seems to me that this was a unique phenomenon in the area.

   In the summertime, after the Sabbath, a group of intellectuals would gather at my home for tea and discussions. Among them was Ya'akov Tsherkas, who had a sharp mind, loved the truth, and pursued justice. We talked about current events and matters concerning Jews. I would be expected to speak on Torah and the sayings of the sages.

   After the important holidays we would have meetings of rivals, hasidim and Zionists. There was peaceful discussion, and we all sang together.

   I remember one such evening, a time of enjoyment in this world. It was after Pesah, spring in nature and in one's heart. We sang the sweet strains of the Tal prayer and Efrayim the cantor sang the phrase, and you shall count from the day after Pesah etc. One of those assembled, a rather strange man named Ya'akov, about whom it was said that he had been of little faith, had left his home and wandered in foreign places including Egypt and Erets Yisrael, returned and became a Bratslav Hasid. He danced around excitedly singing, Praise His name in dance, and was joined by those singing and clapping their hands until he wore them out.

   What a precious congregation, holy and modest! How it has been destroyed and ravished in the years of terror and murder!

From my childhood

Yosl (Syuni) Golub, New York

   I am still sorry that I was so young when we, together with hundreds of other residents, fled from Stavisht, and I did not experience any more of the golden days which filled my childhood

   Now, forty years later, in the big city of New York, I recall the unforgettable scenes of childhood, as well as the bitter times, my last days and hours in Stavisht. When the rumors came that a new band that had destroyed and murdered all the inhabitants of Tetiyev was heading towards Stavisht, my parents grabbed the children and together with the rest of the inhabitants began to run along the road from the church to Belaya Tserkov. It was a long way. As I write these lines I relive the experience as if it had happened only yesterday.

   From the church to the mill (from one end of town to the other) there was a highway, lined with small pillars on both sides and telephone poles every four hundred feet. There were footpaths leading to the houses and shops which stood on both sides of the highway. In the middle of town were a few inns, the government bank, and the Bet Hamidrash.

   The town had probably gotten its name from the Ukrainian word "Stav" which means lake. I imagine that the many lakes in Stavisht had something to do with its name. Here in America the town would have been called Lakeland or Lakeside or Lakeview.

   The Jewish part of Stavisht started at the Catholic church and went from the boulevard, the town park on the right and left of the highway which divided the town into two parts all the way to the mill. On the right side after the church was the town pump, where we got our water. From there the road led through the village of Raskashne to Zhashkov. This was also the road that led to the cemetery, to the government high school and also to the distillery.

   On the right side of the highway, after the pump, there was an empty plaza. On fair days the gentiles would tie up their horses and wagons there and set out the products which they had brought with them to sell. They would also put up stands where they would set out their wares. Here onc could see pots, embroidered and knitted clothing, icons, and other village handiwork.

   A little further down were the Jewish shops which sold manufactured goods, groceries, suits of clothing, and other items which village peasants could acquire only in town. A little further down, on the right hand side of the highway, there were butcher shops and a few fishmongers and some stores which sold flour, bread, and so on. Then came the bank, surrounded by a wooden fence. During the summertime the peasants would stand near the fence and sell fresh fruit, vegetables and berries.

   On the left hand side of the highway across from the church was the police station with its few officers. Behind Yagovski's apothecary shop there was a gentile butcher shop that sold all kinds of sausages, pickled foods and conserves. Then came Smushkin's house and yard. Smushkin was the richest man in Stavisht. He had his own horses and wagons in his courtyard. A little further down were the inns. Here too were the establishments of Yankl Berdishevski, Yosl Grosman, Zelig Levinson, Gulba, Nehemiah the watchmaker, Hershl the maker of uppers for shoes, Reuven the tailor's inn courtyard, Solomon Golub's book store and house, Tetievski's inn courtyard, Potovski's inn courtyard, Rubtshanski's apothecary shop, Noah Wilfand's house and the Beth Hamidrash.

   On both sides of the highway on the way to the mill there were many houses standing in a row. Others were scattered about, and among them a shop or a business. On the left side there was a house with a large porch, then came Alter Baltyanski's grocery store and the Talnoye kloyz. A little further from the highway, it seems to me, was Golditshe's house with the only telephone in Stavisht. Lower down were Binyamin Feinzilberg's apothecary shop, Dadyuk's house where the Hefets family lived, and further down was the town hall, where from time to time there was an exhibition or a film. Here I saw a film for the first time in my life, "The Exodus from Egypt." Somehere around here was the only photographer in Stavisht, Haym Leyb's inn courtyard, the Glants family lived there. Further down lived the Bisitski, Persyan, and Boyarski families and right at the edge of town , it seems to me, was the town apothecary shop. On the right hand side of the highway lived the Wilfand family--Yank and Sonia and their parents, and right next to them was the Makarov kloyz and then came some houses whose owners I do not remember. I do remember the house of Shmuel Krentsel (the melamed). Then came the home of the dentist, Luzya the melamed's house, the Zaslavsky printing shop on a hill, the Marynovski house, the church, and further down I remember was a blacksmith, Yankl the blacksmith, it seems to me. Then came Gedalke's lake and then the mill. From here there was a road through the hillside to the tarelke[?] and to Tarashcha.

   Between Golub's and Tetievski's houses there was an alleyway that led to the synagogue and Synagogue street. The synagogue was a tall red wooden building, the tallest in town , it seems to me. On Synagogue street lived the Fishlin family, Pitsie Sheyne's, the Golditsh family and Zelig Levinson, among others. Synagogue street led to Feldsher Trembitski's house and also to the Pshinke, the gentile villages.

   After the Bet Hamidrash there was a little street that turned left and led to the rabbi's house, to the Sokolovka kloyz and right to Barukh Zeyger's house, to the Postrelkes, and to the neighborhood where stood the little house of my first teacher, Moshke Vaysman. Exactly opposite was a heder. Then, going downhill, there was the bathhouse and the town bathhouse--but this, it seems to me, was already outside the town limits.

   On the other side of the highway from the Bet Hamidrash and on the right hand side of the town bank was a street which led to the Zionist kloyz. Nearby was the Jewish gymnazium, and many houses, among them Mendl Ganapolski's house, and, it seems to me , the Horovits house, Yisrael Tsinis' house, Aynbinder, Tsherpovadski, and Hersh Mendl shadkhen's house.

   There were wider and narrower streets with houses on both sides of the highway. There lived the shopkeepers, tradesmen, and artisans--tailors, seamstresses, cobblers, hatmakers, carpenters, coopers, tinsmiths, waggoners, porters, blacksmiths, and so on and so on.

   Up from the church the highway went past the Count's estate and there were princely dwellings on both sides, then Doctor Garakh and the town judge with their fine houses and large gardens and the town hospital. Then the road led past villages, large and small, through fields and woods -the way to Belaya Tserkov (Shvarts Timeh) the largest city on the way to Kiev. It used to take a whole day and night to get there with a horse and wagon.

   I remember the footpath from the highway to our house and to my father's book store. There were steps leading up to the porch and then one entered the store. We sold all kinds of articles in our book store. One could buy musical instruments, gramaphones, records, sewing kits, pen knives, cosmetics, candies, conserves, etc.

   All of the town's gentile intellectuals, teachers, and students, nobles and peasants, all found what they needed in my father's store. We even received the newspapers from Kiev. Our Jewish customers bought Yiddish and Hebrew books, prayer books, and other Jewish [ritual] articles.

   Our dwelling was in the same building as our store. We had about four or five rooms. One of the rooms had a stove which was heated in the wintertime with sheaves of straw. The stove provided warmth for the entire house. There was a large oven in the kitchen. It was a pleasure to lie on the shelf over the oven in the wintertime. That is why I loved the kitchen most of all. First of all, the fine odors of delicious food came from the kitchen where my mother and the maidservant cooked. When they baked bread or rendered fat the smells would permeate the entire house. The fragrance of cracklings, and of borsht, remains with me to this day. There were usually a few guests in my mother's kitchen, Yosi Mazerake, Itsikel the madman, or other poor people invited by my mother to partake of a meal.

   There was a door from the kitchen to the storeroom, a large room full of logs for wintertime. Here too was the water barrel for household use, as well as barrels of sauerkraut, pickles, and sour apples. From this room a ladder went up to the attic. There, hanging from the ceiling, were dried fruits. Under a straw cover were fresh apples and pears. That is why the attic had the most delightful smells. I would go up to the attic from time to time to enjoy the aromas, as well as the heavenly tastes.

   There was a door from the storeroom which led to Synagogue street. At the side was a door to the courtyard of our neighbor, Reuven the tailor. The courtyard was a large enclosed space with a high roof. Quite often peasants and waggoners or simple merchants would come to stay there for a few days and nights. There was a smell of horses and straw there. In the summertime my mother and her neighbors, Hayah Shakhanovitsh and Beyle Dorf, would make jams there on large brass trays. For us children this was a very important occasion and the taste of the jam has remained with me to this day.

   Between our house and Tetievski's inn courtyard was a little street which led to the Synagogue street. In the middle of the street was a puddle which never dried up. Quite often, in the summertime and especially in the wintertime, horses and wagons would get stuck in it and not be able to get out. We could look out of a window of our house and see the horse and wagon stuck in the mud puddle. Sometimes it was Yankl Dantsis, the waggoner, or Velvl the porter. We children would run and look on. I cannot understand to this day why the people of Stavisht did not drain this puddle as well as the other mud holes which were abundant all over town.

   I remember the twilight hours in Stavisht, when the gentile boys would drive the herds of cattle home from the pastures. We could hear the boys and girls singing on their way home after a day's work in the beet fields. Their singing could be heard throughout the town until it was dark and quiet all around. We used to sit on our porch and listen. The barking of dogs would disturb the quiet of the night. From the ponds we would hear the croaking of the frogs. When the moon was out it would light up all of Stavisht. It seemed to us that our footpath leading to the highway was also a path to the moon. The roads from our town led to a wide unknown world. But the center of the unknown world was certainly my little town of Stavisht. The highway and the footpath led directly to my house - otherwise the moon would not have shone directly over us.

   We used to fetch our water from the town pump near the church or from the few wells in town. And it seems to me that we also had a water carrier who would sell water from a large barrel on a wagon. One could hire a gentile boy or girl to bring water. At the pump one had to turn a large wheel in order to bring up the water. The water was very cold, both in summer and winter. At the wells, one would lower a bucket with a rope, fill it with water, and draw it back up. Then the water would be carried home in two buckets attached to a wooden yoke which hung over one's shoulders. For most of the residents it was a long walk. But this was one of the acceptable discomforts of living in Stavisht. It was interesting to see the water carriers carry the water buckets without spilling even one drop of wter. This was a learned skill. Some of the water carriers did not even hold on to the yokes with their hands when they delivered water to the houses. When I was a young boy I viewed this as a heroic feat and wished to grow big so that I too could carry a yoke with two water buckets and not hold the yoke with my hands.

   One of the local characters I remember was Stefan Visotski. He was a tall, well built peasant with lots of black hair. All year long he wore a tall black hat. In the summertime he sold melons across from our house on the other side of the highway. He would build a little shed to protect his melons and sleep there at night. From our house we could see the lanterns which lit up Stefan and his melons. When Stefan got drunk he would forget about his melons and he would roll in the mud, crying or singing, unrecognizable, covered with mud.. But his melons were famous in town. Each melon squeaked when you held it in your hands.

   I still regret the fact that my parents did not send me and my older brother Yani to a heder where all the Stavisht boys studied. Instead we had a private tutor, Moshke Vaysberg. I have nothing against him, but I would rather have gone to heder with all the boys my age. Every time I passed by a heder and heard the boys sing out the phrases from the Pentateuch in unison, I would feel a pang of envy. I wanted to be one of them, just like everybody. When I finally started to go to the Talmud Torah I began to feel like part of the crowd. My teachers were, as I remember, Luzi the melomed, Tsherpovodski, Lande, and, it seems to me, Yisrael Tsinis. My Talmud Torah friends made me forget about heder. Among my friends were Yosl Wilfand, Avraham Zeyger, Avraham Baltyanski, Naftoli Dorf, Binyamin Ganapolski, Avraham Rubtshanski, and a son of Lande. We founded a children's club called "Nekhde Tsiyon" [Grandsons of Zion] and afterwards "Yalde Tsiyon" [Children of Zion]. We had meetings and read aloud and sang Hebrew songs. Our town enriched our childhood imaginations with its natural beatuy, its gardens, fields, wood, lakes and hills.

   I really did envy the heder boys. In the wintertime they would come home late at night and carry along lanterns to light the way, so that they would not step into the Stavisht mud holes in the dark. It seemed to me that it was a heroic act to walk home at night by the light of a lantern. I also envied the boys their hard soled boots, with which they could slide on the frozen puddles, which could take your breath away. Oh, if only my parents would have allowed me to wear hard soled boots, which the heder boys wore, how happy I would have been.

   In the summertime the boys would go bathe in the lake or go to the Synagogue street where they and the gentile boys from the Pshinke would throw stones at each other. Sometimes they would go pick up wood chips or fruit in the police station garden.

   There was a lot more to the holidays than simply going to the synagogue and breathing in the sanctity of the prayers. First of all, we did not have to go to heder or Talmud Torah. Every holiday had its own character. We would look forward to it all year long. Getting ready for Pesah, making the pots and pans kosher, helping father burn the unleavened bread, etc., the Seder with the Pesah foods, playing various games with nuts. There was no holiday like it for a young boy. Moreover, it was the beginning of springtime, and everything in nature was revived.

   Then came Shavu'ot, with delcious dairy food, and once again we played games with nuts. On Lag Be-Omer we would prepare our weapons. Our "cannon" was an old lock with a an old nail tied into it. We used to rub the powder off the tops of matches, pour it into the keyhole of the lock with the nail, and slam it against a wall. Its bang could be heard all over town. Sometimes we would celebrate Lag Be-Omer in the tarelke[?] behind the town on the hill on the way to Tarashcha. Sometimes my close friends and I would celebrate Lag Be-Omer in Barukh Zeyger's or Lande's gardens.

   And so, too, with the other holidays. We celebrated Hamishah Asar Bi-Shevat with carobs, figs, and dates, which we got only once a year. The High Holidays were more serious. First of all, there was more prayer in the synagogue. Then, on Yom Kippur, we would vie with one another as to who could fast longer. On Sukkot and Simhat Torah we were revived. We would build a sukkah and sitting in a sukkah meant dwelling directly under the Divine Presence. In the Torah procession we would carry little blue and white flags with an apple and a lighted candle on top. We would carry and kiss the Torah scrolls. For Hanukkah we would prepare little cards, drawing the pictures ourselves, showing our skill at drawing. We would play cards and spin tops. Then we would get Hanukkah gelt and eat latkes. At Purim time we boys were the leaders with our noisemakers and whenever the name of Haman was mentioned we would fill the synagogue with noise. Then we would come home to a festive meal.

   That is why we looked forward to every holiday with longing. During the whole year we were kept busy in school. In the wintertime we would slide on the ice on skates or on the hard soles of our boots. We also had wooden sleds with which we would slide downhill behind Zaslavski's house. At home the stoves would be heated with sheaves of straw and the smoke would pour out of the chimneys up to heaven. The frost burned outdoors. When you pulled a sled behind you the snow would squeak under the runners.

   In the summertime the Jewish students who studied in the big cities would come home for summer vacation. My oldest borther, Isak, was among them. You cannot imagine how I looked up to these young men and women who were gymnazium students. We had a wonderful group of students from Stavisht, of whom I remember these: Gedalyah and Isak Lande, Hershl Gorovits, Itsi Shadkhen, Shakhne Shakhanovitsh, Hershl Bisidski, Leyb Kubernik, Mutsi Volodarski, Brayne Shadkhen, Riva Fishlin, Gitl Faynzilberg, Sonia Wilfand. They made a fine sight as they promenaded on the boulevard in their uniforms with the gold buttons and their caps with the gold or silver crests. I idolized them, for they came from the big cities beyond the horizon, from the great unknown world. I wanted to grow up very quickly so I too could achieve the role of secondary school student from Stavisht. Unfortunately, it was not fated to happen. I did not get to be a heder boy with a lantern and hard soled boots, nor a gymnazium student returning home to Stavisht in a uniform with gold buttons.

   But I did get to be something of a secondary school student, without a uniform, but with a cap with a Hebrew crest. My father, with the help of a group of townspeople, founded a Hebrew secondary school in Stavisht. Their goal was to keep the young people at home, so they would not have to go far afield to study. They imported teachers from some distance, set up a physics laboratory, and so was founded the first Jewish secondary school in the area, in our Stavisht. All subjects were taught in Hebrew, with Russian taught only as a language. It is impossible to evaluate what effect this institutuion had on our town. Unforutnately, we could not continue our studies for long. The dreadful events which came to pass soon put an end to this wonderful experiment, as they did to the lives of most of our townspeople.

   Everyone in Stavisht was always busy trying to make a living, buying and selling, in handicrafts, etc. From time to time a cantor and choir would come from one of the big cities to appear in the big synagogue where the artisans prayed. We would listen to the chanting and derive great pleasure from it. I remember when the renowned Pinchik [Pierre S. Pinchik, 1887-1971] came and his sweet voice rose to the ceiling of the synagogue, if not higher. I envied the choristers. It was a great privilege for a boy to be a chorister, especially in the choir of a cantor like Pinchik.

   On Fridays the shops would close earlier and business would cease. Then we would go to the bathhouse, and afterwards, with slow, measured steps, we would walk to evening pryers, --to the synagogue, or the Bet Hamidrash, or to the Sokolovka, Talnoye, or Makarev kloyz. My father and his three sons prayed in the Zionist kloyz. It was quite a long walk from our house. We would walk down the highway then turn right at the bank. I especially loved these long walks. Sabbath reigned all around.

   The Zionist kloyz had the most comfortable and beautiful pews of any synagogue in town. When one faced the Holy Ark, one really felt he was in God's house. The prayer leaders were, as I recall: Shiye Moshe, Yankl Salganik, Yankl Berditshevski, Yankl Shumski, and sometimes also Yisrael Tsinis. All of these men led the prayers at one time or another and it was a pleasure to hear their chanting, and of course, [it must have pleased] the Master of the Universe.

   The Jews of Stavisht lived with faith. When the fair came everyone was busy with commerce, buying and selling, with lively noisy merriment. The peasants from the surrounding villages would come to town to sell their produce and they would wander around from store to store to buy what they needed. They would set up their wares in the market place next to their horses and wagons. There was not an empty place to be seen from one end of the market place to the other. Our Stavisht wheelers and dealers would walk around among the wagons, looking for opportunities to earn some money.

   The various sound of the fair, the shouting and bargaining of buyers and sellers, the cries of drunkards and the music of the beggers playing their banduras, the crying of babies, the neighing of horses, the barking of dogs and the lowing of cattle - all blended into a noisy symphony--the fair in Stavisht.

   This is how the revolution arrived in Stavisht. They began by tearing off the epaulettes of the police and army officers. No more officers, all are free and equal. Then there were meetings and manifestos and everyone marched with red flags and bands. We heard speeches which promised a free and better Russia for everyone, also for us Jews. Groups of militiamen appeared, and everyone was addressed by the title "tovarishtsh"[comrade]. Night and day there were discussions about politics. Newspapers came from Kiev with screaming headlines about important events in Moscow and Petrograd.

   The soldiers returned from the front with weapons. Often a soldier would get his merchandise without paying, because he had a gun in his hand.

   The peasants sensed that the time had come to settle accounts with the wealthy. This meant the nobles and the Jews. One fine day, it seems to me it was a market day, they attacked the Count's estate, robbed and pillaged and burned everything down. I can still see the burning buildings before my eyes. They also robbed and pillaged the distillery. They carried the liquor out by the bucketsful. The peasants had barrels of liquor available for drinking

   Rumors spread of pogromchiks coming from the nearby villages and towns. Jewish travelers were attacked on their journeys, robbed and murdered. Some of the dead were brought to Stavisht to be buried. A cloud of fear hung over Stavisht and we did not know what the morrow would bring.

   In the early morning of the second day of Shavuot a band of pogromchiks came into Stavisht. Their leader was Zsheleznyak. We heard gunfire on the Tarashcha road and then in town. We heard steps running up our porch, and then banging on the door of our shop. No sooner had we opened the door when four bandits burst into the house, grabbed my bnrother Isak with revolvers in their hands, and told him to stand against the wall to be shot. They thought he was a Bolshevik. My parents and we children began to cry and beg them to let him live. My mother fell to the ground at their feet. My father put money in their hands, and finally, for a sum of money , they let him live. As soon as they left we hid him in someone's attic. Their leader, Voytsekhovski, stayed in our house the whole time the pogromchiks were in Stavisht. The "Zsheleznyaks" who occupied Stavisht killed more than twenty Jews. Among the dead were the woman dentist, Itsi Shadkhen, Hershl the cobbler's elderly mother, and others whose named I do not remember. They demanded a heavy tribute from Stavisht, of money and provisions - or they would kill all the Jews in town. Rabbi Pitsie Avraham Gaisinski, my father, and, I think, Binyamin Faynzilberg, called a meeting in the Bet Hamidrash and collected the money and provisions and saved the town from a greater catastrophe. Most of the Jews of Stavisht hid in attics and cellars. Others fled and hid out in the homes of friendly gentiles in the villages. Then the Bolsheviks came and we were able to breathe freely for a while. We were revived, but we did not feel secure. We did not know what the next day would bring.

   During this time, various bands of pogromchiks passed through Stavisht and there were numerous Jewish victims. After Zsheleznyak's gang came the followers of Selyane, Makhnovtse, Zeleny, Petliura, and Denikin. When the Bolsheviks were in charge there was a bit of order and we could at least feel sure of our lives.

   We heard news of the destruction wreaked by the pogromchiks in the surrounding towns. Tetiyev was completely burned to the ground and all its Jews were killed. Most of the Jews of Sokolovka were killed. We were afraid that there would be no where to flee. One night a small band of horsemen rode into town, arrayed themselves with guns in hand across the highway opposite the Bet Hamidrash, and demanded a large sum of money or they would kill the entire population. Once more the householders were called to a meeting and once more they redeemed their lives for money. I can still see in my mind's eye how a pogromchik led the rabbi and my father from door to door to raise the funds to save the town from slaughter.

   We were in constant fear for our lives. We could not sleep through the nights. Whenever we heard a shot we would lock our gates and doors and run to hide wherever we could find a hiding place, in attics or cellars or with friendly gentiles, or in the field s and woods. Our family hid at the home of the teacher Shtsherbina, whose house and school were near the church. During very bad times we hid in his garden.

   When we heard rumors that the pogromchiks who had destroyed Tetiyev were headed our way, many Jews left town. Whenever a shot was heard from the distance, parents would grab their children and run towards Belaya Tserkov. They ran for their lives, taking along whatever they could carry. I did not realize that this would be the last time I would see Stavisht.

   We managed to reach the village Astramagele, where a Russian teacher, Mayestrenka, an acquaintance of ours, lived. We spent the night there, full of fear, because we were still too close to Stavisht. Jews were not sure of surviving in peasant villages in those days. The next morning Mayestrenka took us to Belaya Tserkov with his horse and wagon. There, in the big town, the Bolsheviks were in charge. We heard that Stavisht had been set afire.

   There was no pillaging or murder in Belaya Tserkov. We breathed a bit more freely. We spent the night under a roof, and without hearing shots fired. We hoped for better days in the future.

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