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The story of the stone catapults – the diabolical invention of Radu Porumbaru, the CEO of the Letea Paper Factory, the citadel of nationalism – is etched in fearful, horrifying letters in the history of Romanian antisemitism. Letea was a bastion of the Brătianu Gang, named after the Brătianu family, one of the leaders of the Romanian Liberal Party in the last decades of the 19th century. It was like a state within a state, outside the reach of legal and administrative authorities, due to the status of its key investors and board members. CEO Porumbaru, a man who was disturbed almost to the point of paranoia about the “Jewish danger”, had complete control over the factory. It was said he had declared a real war on the 'Yids', and he suggested – threatened – that they should leave, or go drown themselves in the waters of the Bistriţa.

The factory workers – a few hundred in total – were hired and promoted not for their professional training, but for how much they expressed antisemitic inclinations. They became tools in the hands of the CEO, who recruited them for his purposes, turning them into a bullying, crushing force. Among the weapons at their disposal were wooden catapults with metal frames, equipped with mechanisms that could launch stone projectiles toward the Jewish neighborhoods – especially Leca – and toward the Jewish funerary processions that passed along Sărata Road to the cemetery. This road was controlled by Porumbaru's “empire.”

The Jewish newspapers, and some Romanian ones, reported in detail on the vile deeds of Porumbaru and the “catapult war.” The papers even wrote about the complete absence of police forces in the affected areas, as well as the lack of involvement by the courts to deter and punish the perpetrators or defend the victims. The government remained silent about everything occurring in Bacău. A Jew was worth less

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than a dog. If a Jew didn't like how a non-Jew treated him, there was only one option: Get out!

“Death to the Yids” was the slogan, and those were the key words at the Letea Factory! When Porumbaru and his assassins arrived in town, the Jews shuttered their homes. One day he entered a coffee shop where a few peaceful Jews were sitting. Porumbaru started hitting them, shouting that he was not willing to sit next to a Jew. Only after he had “cleaned” the area did he sit down at a table, order coffee, and light a cigar.

Until the end of World War II, no Jew set foot on the factory grounds, even though many of them were willing to work for lower wages than Christian workers. Jews were forbidden to have shops, warehouses, and workshops near it. They were considered lepers and had to keep their distance. Once the cruelty of the Porumbaru thugs caused a great scandal. The coachman Itzik Davidovitz-Isser brought two female passengers from the train station in his carriage and dropped them off near the paper factory. Suddenly two thugs appeared, pulled the coachman off his seat and dragged him inside the factory, where they tied him up, painted his face in different colors and mocked him. Porumbaru stepped in, unhappy with the “light” treatment of the victim. He demanded that they strip him and flay his skin with a hammer until he revealed what Jews do with Christian blood on Passover. Since the coachman could not answer, Proumbaru took a knife and began to cut the skin around the Jew's throat. After torturing him with various torture instruments, he was laid alive in a coffin, led to the nearby Bistriţa Canal and set adrift on the waters of the canal and the river. No one was ever able to prove that Porumbaru's gang abused the unfortunate coachman.

The press in the capital Bucharest, as well as the press abroad, covered this affair extensively and even demanded that the matter be investigated, but no investigation was opened and nothing happened to anyone. For several months, Porumbaru had to be content with just operating the catapults and nothing more. His victims did not complain because they knew they had no one to turn to. As the scandal grew, the Jew-hater even dared to publish denials in the newspapers, explaining that Jews and opposition parties were trying to give the Letea factory a bad name. He even claimed he was not forgiven for being the first in Romania's history to establish a national industry without Jewish invaders.

After many months of medical treatment at the Colcea Hospital in Bucharest, Davidovitz the coachman recovered. He contacted senior political figures and lawyers and personally went to the editorial offices of several newspapers. However, the newspapers Românul (The Romanian) and Voinţa Nazională (The National Will) refused to listen to him. Meanwhile, a new scandal had shaken the Jewish community of Bacău.

It was about the Jewish merchant Isaac Ludwig. He was traveling by carriage to a sugar factory in the city of Secuieni. The road passed near the Lizard factories. Suddenly, one of the workers forced him to get out of the carriage, dragged him inside the factory, and together with “some of the guys” “treated”

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him in the same way as with Itzik Davidowitz. The coffin was ready and waiting, and they sent him across the Bistriţa. Another thug was waiting by the dam, where he grabbed the coffin, pulled out the unconscious merchant, put him on a cart, brought him to the city center, and dumped him there at nightfall. The next day, Porumbaru arrived at the Camerianu Cafe to hear the echoes of the incident. When it seemed to him that a Jew named Hermann Higner, an official in the tobacco monopoly, was staring at him, he began punching him in the head. Then a member of the attacker's entourage grabbed the Jew and began to trample him with his feet after knocking him to the ground. Porumbaru then declared to everyone, certainly to those who were willing to listen to him, that he would not rest until he saw Jewish blood spilled.

Nothing happened to Proumbaru. It's like he had immunity!

From time to time, Christian citizens were angry about the atrocities of the Letea bully and reached out to help the Jews. Among them was Captain Persiciano, who turned to the deputy district commissioner to complain about the mistreatment of the city's Jews. Unfortunately, the district commissioner was… a Liberal, and “a raven doesn't pluck out another raven's eye”. Otherwise, we wouldn't have heard more and more about the crimes of the people of Letea.

Once, a liquor merchant from the town of Podul Turcului came to Bacău accompanied by his accountant on business. Near the Eternitatea (Eternity) Cemetery, about a kilometer away from Letea, they were attacked by thugs. The merchant and the accountant did not know that they were near the nationalist fortress, and the coachman had forgotten to remind them.

The three thugs shouted, “This is a forbidden area for Yids!” They grabbed the horse's reins and began beating the passengers. Then they stole all their money, took the rings off their fingers, removed their boots, stripped them of their clothes, and left them naked – a substitute for the torture they would have endured at Letea.

The thugs left and later returned with reinforcements – ten in total. They poured kerosene on the victims and attempted to burn them alive. An Italian worker, moved by the spectacle, opposed the killing of the poor Jews. A German worker intervened and untied them, defying the anger of his Romanian colleagues. The two foreign workers returned the Jews their clothes and boots, but they were unable to find the stolen money. The thugs later complained about the foreign workers, who in turn reported them directly to the general manager – but fortunately for them, and for the two Jews, he was not in town that day. The merchant and the accountant managed to reach the road, their bodies and faces covered in wounds and bruises, where they encountered several travelers who took them to the hospital. After being released, the merchant consulted a lawyer, and together they went to the district police chief. The chief listened to their complaint with a good-natured expression and replied, “Well, man, why did you suddenly go for a walk there? Didn't you know that was a forbidden area for Yids… I mean, for Jews? What can I do?”

The unfortunate merchant remained silent. But his lawyer, one of the best in the city, replied: “I am a Romanian, but I am ashamed

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that such vile acts are possible in my country.”

The complaints against Porumbaru continued following the appeals of several Jewish figures. The general meeting of shareholders of the Letea company, which was held in the capital, Bucharest, decided to appoint an investigative committee that would go to the scene of the incident and interrogate the CEO. He received them warmly, explaining in sweet words that if they were to convict him for what had happened at his factory, the company's shares would fall and investors would lose money. Moreover, he added, favoring the Yids would mean harming the good name of the national Romanian industry. The members of the committee, including shareholders, understood his meaning, acquitted the accused, and parted from him, smiling. That evening, Porumbaru organized a party for the workers to celebrate his success. The chants and slogans at that event were “Long live Porumbaru!” and “Death to the Yids!” The feast lasted until the early hours of the morning, when the revelers went to the catapults and began shooting toward the Leca neighborhood.

That night, not a single Jew closed an eye. Everyone feared that there would be a pogrom such as had never before occurred in Bacău – but the workers were too drunk to start a war in the city.

Porumbaru's next victim was Leon Schwartz, a bookseller and picture vendor. Porumbaru met him in a restaurant, where he slapped him across the face, knocked him to the floor, and stepped on him. Then he threw him and his goods out into the street.

One summer day, after a catapult shelling, Porumbaru went to inspect the damage caused by the projectiles. Satisfied, he went to see a play at the Lemacianu Jewish Theater, located in the garden of Jean Ștefănescu. Porumbaru took some thugs with him, and together they began to abuse the audience and the actors. The actors were chased off the stage with clubs and whips. The spectators hurried to flee, some of them grateful to have escaped with only a few blows.

Only one Jew, J. B. Haso, immediately protested this in a telegram he sent to the Romanian newspaper Românul and the Jewish newspaper Fraternitatea (“The Brotherhood”). Need we add that this telegram was published only in the Jewish newspaper?

A few days later, a complaint was received from the Jewish coachman Leib Greenberg, who had been attacked at noon on a city street, severely beaten, and then thrown, in serious condition, into the Gypsy Alley. On the same day, a Jewish funeral was attacked by catapults that also struck the Jewish neighborhood, wounding women and children. Most of the men were at work.

Years, decades – nearly a century – have passed since Porumbaru left the stronghold of Romanian nationalism. The catapults were forgotten in some warehouse. The oppressors of those days retired, and others came in their place. Their numbers grew, for antisemitic hatred also rose. Letea holds a terrifying place in the memory of the Jews of Bacău. Now it is a large factory, filled with buildings and warehouses, yet it remains a testament to the horrors that took place there. Even now, when a funeral procession passes along the road toward Sărata, people turn their heads so as not to look at the first “green house,” which preceded that of the Legionnaires.

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The catapult saga was recorded in writing at the time by Dr. Elias Schwarzfeld, in a protest pamphlet in Romanian that was also published in German, as an appeal to Romanian politicians and the international community. The Romanian pamphlet was published in Bucharest, and the German one in Leipzig (Germany) in 1885:

“Radu Porumbaru și isprăvile lui la fabrica de hârtie din Bacău” ,“Radu Porumbaru und seine Gräuelthaten in der Papierfabrik zu Bacău in Rumänien.” – Radu Porumbaru's Deeds at the Paper Factory in Bacău.

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The Bacău community had a very close relationship with the Land of Israel, even in the 1880s. The first migration of Jews from Bacău to the Land occurred in 1882, alongside Jews from nearby Moineşti. This migration continued in subsequent years. Love for Israel was buried deep in the hearts of Hovevei Zion ^[1], Zionists, and even Jews who knew about Kol Israel Haverim ^[2]. Many Jews from Bacău dreamed of creating a homeland in Israel and establishing themselves there. It is important to note that the people of Kol Israel Haverim were very active in Bacău. We do not intend to explain all of the influences or history that led Jews from Bacău to move to the Land of Israel before the first world war. We would like to explain a small part of this story, that is almost not researched until now: the relationship between the Jews of Bacău and the Mikveh Israel farming school, before the first world war.

It is important to note that the Mikveh Israel school was established in 1870 by Kol Israel Haverim. It was not a Zionist institution nor did it belong to Hovevei Zion. Similarly, Kol Israel Haverim, the founding organization, was not Zionist. Its creators were Jews from France who wanted to help poor Jews from eastern countries, Islamic countries, and Eastern Europe. The aid they offered – in their thinking - was in the form of vocational education, preferably occupations relating to farming, along with acquiring a modern education, especially in French. Nevertheless, the Mikveh Israel agricultural school

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was established in the Land of Israel, however it did not train its students for Zionism or the building of settlements, but only taught farming skills to Jews. The name, “Mikveh Israel,” recalls “The Hope of Israel,” Rabbi Menashe Ben Israel's book. The people of Kol Israel Haverim thought that “the hope of Israel” was not about the creation of farming settlements in Israel, but rather about the productivity of Jews and their integration into their countries. If an alumni from Mikveh Israel found a job as a farmer in Israel, so be it. If not, Kol Israel Haverim would employ them as a farmer in a Jewish farming settlement in a different country, where they thought there were more opportunities, such as Canada, Australia, or Argentina. In those countries, there existed Jewish farming settlements based on Kol Israel Haverim's ideology which emphasized that farming was a Jewish responsibility, grounded in the principles of territorialism. This was the case for some teenage boys from Bacău.

Registration for Mikveh Israel was under the approval of Kol Israel Haverim's headquarters in Paris. Poor Romanian families - who were close to Kol Israel Haverim's approach - went to its headquarters, asking that their sons get accepted with exemptions from tuition fees and ensuring that the school would be accountable for supporting them for the duration of their studies. This also required the approval of the school principal and later the recommendation of a Kol Israel Haverim representative in Romania, Y. Astrock. Sons of people who had already immigrated from Romania to the Land of Israel could also be accepted into the school. Students from Bacău were from both groups.

On July 5 1892, H. Greenberg was accepted into Mikveh Israel as a student. He was born in Bacău 15 years beforehand, and his family moved to the Land of Israel to the moshavah ^[3] of Rishon Lezion. He wanted to be a farmer, but gave up his desire after a year of studies. On the 31st of December, 1893, he left school and started working as a barrel maker in Rishon Lezion, the moshav he lived in. (See the Central Zionist Archives in Jerusalem in file J41/301: archives of the agricultural school Mikveh Israel).

In 1896 a student by the name of Reuben Segel, who was also born in Bacău, started attending Mikveh Israel. He was among the top students at the school. In his fifth year at school - 1901, the principal, Yosef Neaga, recommended him to be an agricultural technician, in Kol Israel Haverim's new school in Slobodka Lesna in Galicia. “Reuben Segel is one of the best students, about to finish his studies in school, a student whom we had no complaints about, in his whole time at Mikveh Israel, not about work, not about discipline, and not about his persistence in his studies.” These are the words of the principal of the school, Yosef Neaga, in a letter addressed to the secretary of Kol Israel Haverim Jack Bigar. Neaga later says that not only are these alumni and two others some of the best students at the school, but they could be very useful to the principal of an agricultural school in Slobodka Lesna. In 1908, another student named Bernard Adelshtein, from Bacău, arrived at Mikveh Israel. He was 15 when he came to Israel with five other new students from Romania, on the recommendation of Y. Astrock.

The number of students off Romanian origin increased, following the peasant revolt in 1907 and the consequences

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of antisemitism on Romanian Jews. Ideas of productivity, territorialism, and immigration spread even more among Romanian Jews.

The Adelshtein family had a strong connection not only with Kol Israel Haverim, but also with the Land of Israel. The parents of the father -- N. Adelshtein -- lived in the moshavah Zichron Yaakov, “in which most of its settlers come from the Jewish community of Bacău.” (from the letter of Mikveh Israel's principal, S. Lupu, from August 11, 1909: the Central Zionist Archives, file J41/127). He even asked the principal of the school to allow his son, who lived in the dorms, if he could visit the moshavah where his relatives lived during the summer vacation.

Bernard Adelshtein was also one of the top students in Mikveh Israel. However, like many teenage boys, he had disciplinary problems. His father, who continued living in Bacău, kept up with what his son was doing and even became worried. After severe warnings from his father, Bernard promised he would fix his grades (he had lost 3 points due to repeated bad behavior). N. Adelstein was a father of 6: 4 girls and 2 boys, the youngest of which was 5 years old in 1910. In a letter to Shmuel Lupu he wrote “I hoped that by sending my son to the institution you so honorably lead, he would become my support in my old age.” (From the Central Zionist Archives, file J41/134, letter in Romanian). His fondness for Mikveh Israel is obvious from his writings.

Bernard Adelstein turned into an excellent and disciplined student. “He is one of the top students in his class. I hope his behavior will soon match his academic and occupational achievements. I am happy to tell you that my wants have finally started to become a reality.” (A letter from Shmuel Lupu, principal of Mikveh Israel, to N. Adelstein - the worried father from Bacău - August 5, 1910. The Central Zionist Archives, file J41/333).

Bernard graduated from Mikveh Israel on September 1, 1912 as one of the top students. His family did not stay in Romania. N. Adelstein decided to immigrate to Argentina; although his son, Bernard, was very fond of his relatives in Israel and classmates from Mikveh Israel, he too agreed to immigrate to Argentina. This may also be an effect of his studies about productivity and creating settlements using Kol Israel Haverim's practical approach of prioritizing productivity over settling in the Land of Israel. Bernard Adelstein returned to Romania in order to help his family prepare for the move. His dad was very impressed with his son and the education he received from Mikveh Israel. “It's my duty to express my thanks for the good education my son received at Mikveh Israel under your esteemed supervision and responsibility. You treated my son as if he was your own. I sent my son to your honorable sir and with the help of God he came back self-aware. May the Holy One Blessed Be ^[4] bestow on your honorable sir many years for the good fortune of the school and longevity for his distinguished family.” (N. Adelstein's letter to Shmuel Lupu on July 5, 1912. From the Central Zionist Archives, file J41/143. The letter is in Romanian). Bernard Adelstein wrote a letter to Shmuel Lupu in French, thanking him for the financial aid he received when he migrated to Israel (before this he also thanked Y. Astrock)

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and “for worrying about me…I will never forget the assistance your honorable sir bestowed upon me…I will always remember your honor, and the four years that I was under your guidance.” (A letter from November 5, 1912. From the Central Zionist Archives, file J41/144).

The 19-year old that temporarily came back to his hometown after a four-year absence described the situation in Romania, particularly in Bacău, in a gloomy light. His account, from 1912, reflects a time of economic and political crisis in Romania. His perspective is that of a Jewish man that studied abroad, adopted the ideology of Kol Israel Haverim, and knew farming very well. Feeling uneasy and frightened, he is impatiently waiting to leave the country as soon as possible. His letter offers a valuable perspective for historians researching this era.

“Here we are leaving Romania in a threatening situation. There is a real crash in the capital market. Only a few people have not gone bankrupt. Two main reasons for this financial crisis are that the farming production is slow this year and the Balkan war.

The summer crops initially appeared promising until continuous rain in the autumn caused significant damage. This was especially true for the corn crops, which are a nutritional staple for Romanian farmers. It is known to Your Honor that in order to harvest corn crops, they have to be fully ripe and dry. This year that was not possible as it started snowing unexpectedly when the grain was still in the field, which caused the farmer to panic and harvest the grain in a hurry. However, it will be hard to store grain whose ripeness is questionable and that is soaked with water. Pellagra, a terrible disease, will spread in Romania's ruined villages. As for the other species of grains, they rotted in the field and what was harvested are only crops that are of poor quality. The vineyards were also damaged; this year's crop was not only scarce, but also not of good quality. The bean and potato crops also fared much worse compared to last year.

We are only receiving extremely unclear information about the development of the war. From the front page of the same newspaper, we read conflicting reports: “A big win for the Turkish”, “The Bulgarians have advanced”, “A huge win for the Turkish”, “The Turkish are requesting an intervention of the great powers.” But contrary to these reports that are all different, here we know approximately what is happening. Turkey is dying. There are also rumors of a general draft in Romania, although the government says that this country will present its demands at the end of the war.

I imagine what situation Mikveh Israel must be in now, lacking workers, and I am curious to know if it's true that many Jews from the Land of Israel volunteered to enlist in the army to go to war.

A new law regarding local industry came to put an end to the ambiguity surrounding the Romanian Jew, and it seemed like the start of a better future. This law stated: “A Romanian is considered any worker who does not enjoy foreign patronage”. This is the first step in receiving human rights, for which we need to bless the “Union of Romanian Jews”.

I forgot to mention in my letter about the wine industry and how it works in Romania. It's unbelievable, but true, that in Europe they don't know a thing about our important pasteurization work.

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The wine industry in Romania is among the most failing industries. People don't know that grape juice turns into wine because of bacteria. Nor do they care at all about the fermentation of the wine. There is no ventilation, no plan, and no daily supervision. The wine was left as God's concern and therefore Romanian wines are of mediocre quality.

Nevertheless, many Romanians, whose mouths and throats were destroyed due to excessive consumption of spicy things, are ready to swear with the Evangelion ^[5] in hand, that good wine from a particular Romanian vineyard is a lot better than the wines from vineyards in Bordeaux or Medoc. This perspective can be understood after seeing a Romanian drink spicy wormwood in one gulp.

(And soon they will start elections for the parliament and our citizens will spend many days drinking the best Romanian wines).”

It is certainly possible to discuss more at length -- to do special research into -- these interesting remarks and the news that the new alumnus of the agricultural school passed along. It seems that this was the last letter he sent to Romania.

Bernard Adelstein and his family moved to Argentina, on December 7, 1912, after a 17- day long boat trip. The Adelstein family settled in the farming community of Santo Tomás. Bernard Adelstein started working as an agricultural technician in the Estancia 25 farm, not far from the capital Buenos Aires. He was very successful in his job and was promoted. He even kept his promise of still writing letters to Shmuel Lupu, his teacher and Rabbi. He sent insightful observations, written with considerable literary talent, describing the situation of Jewish agricultural settlements in Argentina. He explained the situation in all of Argentina: the people, leaders, incidents, ways of farming, and also the start of the Jewish farmers' movement and the socialist movement in Argentina, as well as the celebration of May 1. He is still interested in the state of the Land of Israel and in the state of his classmates, his old teachers, and Romania along with the rest of the Balkan countries. His remarks seemed to have also been used as a source of information by Kol Israel Haverim, regarding the situation of the Jewish settlers in Argentina, who settled there through the organization.

However, his correspondence with Shmuel Lupu has taken a new form, that of a relationship between two old friends. Shmuel Lupu continues to appreciate Bernard Adelstein in a very positive way.

These writings, which continued until December 1913, shortly before Shmuel Lupu retired from his job as principal of Mikveh Israel, are kept in the archives at the agricultural school.

(An excerpt from a broader article presented as a lecture at the center for the study of Romanian Jews, at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Based on the research of the archives at the agricultural school, Mikveh Israel, that is in the Central Zionist Archives of Jerusalem).

Translator's footnotes

1. Hovevei Zion was a social/political movement of the late 19th century in Eastern Europe. Return
2. An international Jewish organization whose mission was to provide education and social development to Jews in the Middle East, North Africa, and Eastern Europe. Return
3. Colony. Return
4. HaKadosh Baruch Hu (God). Return
5. The Gospel. Return

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More than 50 years have passed and every time I recall this incident, I tremble with fear.

I was the chairman of the Jewish student association in Bacău. My most important task was to collect money for our members lacking means, who studied at the universities. Truth be told, I myself was lacking in means, but I belonged to the “free students”, that is to say, to the ones who only show up for the exams.

As the best source of income for the scholarship fund, I assisted in inviting all sorts of renowned personalities in literature or science to hold lectures and organize symposia or literary discussions. In this way, I brought, from Bucharest, the writer and journalist N.D. Cocea ^[1], who talked about his picante novel, Over a Black Patch (Pentra un Petec de Negreata); the writer Ionel Teodoreanu ^[2] in connection to his book, Medelenii; the theologist, writer and translator of the Hebrew Bible to Romanian, Gala Galaction ^[3]; the famous neurologist, Gheorghe Marinescu ^[4]; and the writer, Petre Bellu ^[5], a grand author who lectured to us about his book, The Defense Has the Floor (Apararea are cuvintul). But before I expand upon the things surrounding Petre Bellu, I must relate– parenthetically – some things on the visit of the neurology professor. Renowned people, however talented they are, are equally as strange.

As I arrived at the Marsti hotel to bid him welcome, I faced a nightmare. A pair of pants was hanging on the wardrobe, shaving equipment was standing on the suitcase like soldiers in formation, and additionally, in the garbage bin were thrown his lecture papers, “The Theory of Improvement of Race.” The professor – with white uncombed hair, and swollen eyes that almost popped out of their sockets – looks at me,

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as if at a strange creature, and immediately asks:

- “Are you crazy?”
- “No, honoured professor, I'm the student representative.”
- “What students?”
- “The Jewish students…”
- “What are Jewish students seeking here?”

Apparently, the famous professor had forgotten the reason for coming to Bacău. He treated me as one of his patients. I had to wait more than half an hour before he calmed down and in the end, I succeeded in convincing him to come in the afternoon to lecture. He brought me a great deal of concern. What if he didn't show up? What should I do with the audience? After all, I had collected dues!

But all's well that ends well. It was a shame that it didn't go like that with Petre Bellu. At the time, his book, The Defense Has the Floor, an autobiographical work that takes place in the world of prostitutes, was in fashion. The book had a great success among the reading public, much like Lady Chatterley's Lover, ^[6] and was very well known in those days. I knew that if I brought Petre Bellu to Bacău, the success was ensured in advance. That's how it was at first. On the day of the discussion – I had called the event a legal discussion because the book discusses themes of legal defense, prosecution, and crimes – a great crowd had assembled in the entrance of the Lux cinema. With a discerning eye it was possible to recognize all the “ladies” and “madams” from the dubious hotels, “Europa” and “New York”, the “de luxe matinee workers”, who worked for the seamstress, Yolanda, three shifts a day, unable to supply the demands. The pimps also attended, soaked with rage, with hair gels on their heads, wiping their faces with handkerchiefs big as bedsheets. Seated by their side were the scions of high society, wives of merchants, older secondary school students, the whole elite of the city.

Did I suspect that the affair would not work out and that no one would forgive me for bringing the prostitutes to the discussion? What was I to do? Petre Bellu was their idol, their writer. They came to the discussion to cry over the book's heroines, just as they shed tears when reading the book between the visits of their clients.

The queue to the ticket booth continued to grow by the hour; only occasionally did it cease moving when one of the city's dignitaries arrived, who was immediately greeted by applause.

I held onto Bellu with my hand, so that he would not disappear in the tavern; indeed I had been warned about this faulty habit of his. Finally, the “members of the court” also arrived. The “attorney” was Poldi Filderman, the young socialist of the wealthy Filderman family; the “prosecutor” was a doctor, an expert in sexually transmitted diseases; and the “chief judge” was an actual judge that I managed to bring to the discussion with great difficulties.

The discussion really turned into a show. The trouble only began at the end, when the author was invited to the stage. He was very shy and stage fright was revealed in his gaunt face. He stuttered a little and talked about “the mother” of the author (instead of mentioning the mother of the book's protagonist), who chose the flower pot

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adorning the stage, and in order to prevent a catastrophe, I pulled him behind the wings. We were both contended; except for this incident, the success was tremendous.

Applause for open and closed stages. Applause or slaps on my cheek from the merchant furious with me for seating prostitutes near honest women and virtuous girls. The poor guy didn't know that his wife “worked” additional hours for Yolanda, the Madame of the brothel, in order to get the extra money necessary to fill up her wardrobe!

Translator's footnotes

1. N.D Cocea (1880-1949), Romanian writer, journalist and political activist. The work in question is a 1934 political satire written in the form of a erotical novel. Return
2. Ionel Teodoreanu (1897-1954), Romanian writer. Medelennii refers to the trilogy of novels, La Medeleni, written 1925-1927 and considered Teodoreanu's major work. Return
3. Literary pen name of Romanian writer and Christian theologian, Grigore Pişculescu (1879-1961), who had an active interaction with the Jewish community, writing articles for Jewish periodicals and giving talks supporting interreligious understanding and the Zionist movement; he was a great admirer of Theodor Herzl. A small square in Jerusalem near the Valley of the Cross bears his name. Return
4. Gheorghe Marinescu (1863-1938), founder of the Romanian School of Neurology and the first to utilize cinematography in his medical studies, making the first “science films”. on/49595382_An_Excursion_Into_the_Medical_Activity_of_Doctor_Gheorghe_Marinescu Return
5. Petre Bellu (1896-1959), Romanian writer and playwright. Return
6. 1928 novel by the English author, D.H. Lawrence. Return

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