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whose construction began in 1909 and was completed in 1913.
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[Page 9]
by Avraham Shmuel Hershberg
Translated by Beate Schützmann-Krebs
English Proofreading by Dr. Susan Kingsley Pasquariella
| Avraham Shmuel Hershberg–the renowned scholar, scientist, author, and prominent social activist of former Bialystok, who was murdered by the Nazis–left us a compelling account of the life of Bialystoker Jews a hundred years ago, drawn from his personal experiences.
Hershberg immortalized his memories of the Jews in Bialystok a century ago at the end of the second volume of his book Pinkos Bialystok [p. 349], in a special section entitled “Retrospect and Overview,” which is reproduced here in abbreviated form. |
When I came to Bialystok in the month of Adar, 5640 [1880], the Turkish War was over.
The textile industry was at the beginning of its great ascent. German manufacturing was already flourishing. Jewish involvement in industry was increasing significantly. In Bialystok, there were already prominent and wealthy Jews. The general condition of the Jewish population was satisfactory. It was a time of economic barg-aroyf–a period of rising prosperity.
Yet despite all this, Bialystok still had the appearance of a small town. The outer area of the shulhoyf [synagogue courtyard] was still half-provincial. There were only a few large brick houses. Along the entire Nikolayever [Mikołajewska] Street (later Senkiewicza), the largest street in Bialystok, there were only three large houses.
At the corner stood the house of David Zabludovski, which had a spacious hall for the officers' club; across from it stood the house of Yankel Krinker - then known as the “Grand Hotel”[3] - and the large brick house of Eliezer Halbershtam. On Lipove Street (later Pilsudskiego), there were also no more than a few large brick houses. At the beginning of Daytshe [German or Niemiecka] Street, later Kilinski [Kilińskiego] Street, stood one of the several large private homes. One belonged to R' David Avraham Kempner (later owned by Zisel Goldberg). His father-in-law, Kopel Heilperin, bought the house at auction in 1808, when it was still unfinished, and established a small bes-medresh [house of study] there.
In the frontmost house, a large hall had from the very beginning been set up as a “theater,” with windows facing the left side of the building. It is said that this was arranged by the Freemasons of that time, who were banned by the Tsarist authorities and had thus created a place to gather [in secret].
The oldest private house was the brick building of the “Palace Theater”, built in 1740. The entire town consisted of small wooden or brick houses. The streets were lined with fences stretching between the homes. Some of the later parade streets did not yet exist. The Nay-Velt Street had already been laid out before my arrival by Leyb Vaynreych [Weinreich], but the Polevaye (Polne) was only developed during my time, by Mazur. And indeed, from the very beginning, the street was called–Mazur's Street.
In the place where the Versalska (Angers Street) and all its side alleys would later be, there were fields and such deep mud that one could not pass through to reach the forest. There was still no water system. People relied on Jewish vaser-firer [water carriers, who brought water in buckets or on small horse carts from public wells to the homes]. Electric light was out of the question. There was no theater building. There wasn't even a single large hall for weddings, concerts, or lectures. The only performer who entertained guests at weddings was Sonye the Wedding Jester (Sonye Zadrunski).
Remnants of the bygone Branicki era could still be seen in the tall kalantsha [watchtower] with the Tsign-Volf [4], the row of shops surrounding it, and the famous palace that housed a school for noble girls. Opposite the palace lay the stav [pond], formed by a marshy offshoot of the Biala River.
Social life was almost entirely intertwined with religion. It centered around the bote-medroshim [houses of study]. Among the many bote-medroshim, the larger ones played the leading role - among them, the High (Pulkovoyer)[5] Bes-Hamedresh, Yekhiel Nekhe's Bes-Medresh, the two Green Bote-Medroshim, and several others. People spent most of their time there; they prayed, studied, discussed municipal matters, and simply passed the time. In the bote-medroshim, the lamdn [Jewish scholar] held a prominent role, but so did the truly devout Jew and the gvir der nedven [the wealthy benefactor]. The Haskalah [Enlightenment movement] had long since slipped into Bialystok. However, the maskilim [Jewish Enlighteners] played no significant role. They were, in fact, a marginalized minority. In response, they founded their own Khor-Shul [choir-shul, reform synagogue] . Gradually, the [Hebrew-language newspaper] Ha-Tsefira began to spread, eventually reaching around 400 subscribers.
At that time, Bialystok had no newspaper vendors. The older generation still did not speak Russian. So people made do with the news shared by the youth, who were readers of the Russian papers.
The amhorets [uneducated man] found no recognition whatsoever. Only a craftsman who could also study was held in esteem. Thus, simple Jewish toiler devoted themselves to the study of Ein-Yakev [Well of Jacob, a compilation of stories, parables, and biblical interpretation from the Talmud], listened to a maggid [preacher], or recited Psalms.
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whose construction began in 1909 and was completed in 1913. |
For them too, the bes-hamedresh served as the center of social life. Everyone knew what was cooking in everyone else's pot. There was never a shortage of gossip. Yet the main conversations revolved around society.
The central figure who gave rise to most of these discussions was Yekhiel-Ber Volkoviski, the leading authority on municipal and Jewish affairs. In the bote-medroshim, disagreements over city and communal matters were common. The best time for such debates was during the holidays, when Jews were not burdened by the daily struggle for livelihood. Every bes-hamedresh had its outspoken discussion leaders and its quiet supporters.
On holidays, the greatest pleasure was to go to the Shtot Shul and listen to Cantor Moyshe Bass [Rabinowitz] with his kapelye [musical group]. Of course, Bialystok had many other cantors. I remember the cantor who was especially popular when I first arrived in Bialystok.
The major manufacturers were Germans. Jews were the small-scale producers. At that time, Bialystok had a large number of Jewish innkeepers, most of whom earned only meager incomes. There were also many Jews whose livelihood depended on the peasants from the surrounding villages.
These Jews scraped by with hardship and suffering, and were constantly driven away. In such a state, people lived in constant hope – that through a miracle or a stroke of luck, they might be restored to dignity and stability.
No wonder, then, that the lottery trade–widespread among Jews from Lithuania and Poland–flourished in the city at that time. Yet Bialystok was utterly consumed by this yeytser-hore [evil desire]. Many Jews pawned personal belongings in order to borrow money for lottery tickets. Some fell into complete destitution.
Although foreign lottery tickets had been banned by the Tsarist government, in Bialystok people bought tickets from Berlin, Hamburg, Saxony, Brunswick, and other places.
Collectors of all kinds operated there: large, medium, and small. Whole tickets were sold, as well as halves, quarters, eighths, and even tiny portions of a ticket. Even Russian officials purchased foreign lottery tickets. Poor people typically bought tickets on installment plans, or joined together as multiple partners.
For a long time, Bialystok had no luck with lotteries. Only small winnings were recorded. On the other hand, we learn from the regulation of biker-khoylim [institution to aid the sick and poor]–which mandated that one percent of each prize be allocated to visiting the sick–that these winnings were regarded as a stable foundation.
Once, in the year 1870, Bialystok won a large sum.
On erev shabes tshuve 5630 [the eve of the Sabbath between Rosh Hashhanah and Yom Kippur], a telegraphic message arrived for the collector Yosef-Moyshe, son of Yeshaya, informing him that he had won the grand prize of 450,000 Marks with a Saxon lottery ticket. At that time, this amounted to 150,000 Rubles.
This grand prize, which benefited a number of poor families, caused a veritable uproar in the city. Numerous conflicts arose. Legal proceedings were initiated. The newly wealthy gentlemen arranged prestigious marriages. For many years after the event, people in the city continued to speak of the grand prize.
When I came to Bialystok ten years after the event, people still had not stopped talking about that stroke of great fortune.
Upon my arrival, I found all the religious, philanthropic, and educational institutions of the kehile [Jewish community] in a very dilapidated, neglected, provincial state. Everything seemed frozen in the era of the Branickis. All institutions of the kehile were out of step with a city in which industrial development had become palpable. With the exception of the Jewish hospital, they were all concentrated in the vicinity of the shulhoyf [synagogue courtyard], in the former geto [Jewish quarter]. And the quarter of the shulhoyf was the filthiest in the entire city.
The hoyptshul [main synagogue][6], situated in the heart of the shulhoyf quarter, was a relatively small building, constructed for a modest number of the city's inhabitants. Inside, the shul was neglected and dirty. The “holy” cobwebs were not to be removed from the walls.
When the courageous communal activist Avraham Fayvel Blumenfeld became the gabe [warden] of the shul, he ordered the cobwebs to be cleared away.
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The devout elders were deeply outraged by him; to them, it was almost a sacrilege. Around the shul stood several bote-medroshim, with the Old Bes-Medresh at the center–a small wooden hut, the Rabbi's house, with a tiny, grimy room that served as the beys-din [Jewish court].
The talmetoyre [Talmud Torah] and the Yeshiva were housed in four wooden buildings, erected at the beginning of the Russian regime. These structures were severely neglected and filthy. There, crammed together, a total of 450 students studied–275 from the city and 175 from the surrounding areas.
The gaboim (wardens) who served there were: HaRav R' Shmuel Lifshits, Borekh [Baruch] Freydenberg, Leyb Perlman, Yosef Rendl, Shmuel Rosental, Ayzik Medovnik, and Yakov Shmuel Zabludovski.
In the hekdesh [poorhouse] lay the incurably ill, the mutilated, the crippled, all manner of the mentally impaired and the psychopathic. Upon entering, one was confronted with something repulsive, cruel, revolting. The sick were literally rotting in their own filth and suffocating in cramped conditions. Even now, I still shudder when I recall the horrific scene I witnessed there during my first visit.
When I compare the state of the kehile's institutions in the year 1880 with the overall growth of philanthropic establishments in the years that followed, I am struck by the social achievements of the past half-century and the rapid development of Bialystok.
Thanks to the initiative and entrepreneurial spirit of its Jewish population, Bialystok rapidly grew and spread outward after 1880, becoming increasingly modern. This swift process of expansion was especially pronounced during the final two decades of the last century.
Jewish merchants and Jewish industrialists came into contact with the wider world. People could no longer remain confined within a provincial framework. They could no longer be content with the small and uncomfortable apartments in wooden houses and old-style brick buildings. As soon as the first opportunities arose–and sometimes even without a secure financial foundation–they eagerly set about constructing three- and four-story buildings equipped with all the necessary modern conveniences.
Though modern houses yielded secure revenues, the return on capital invested in their construction was always smaller than the gains from commercial enterprises.
Thus, at first only the larger capitalists could afford to build brick houses with multiple rental apartments.
The entire situation changed when the “Tuler” [Tula?] and the Vilna “Zemelni” Bank began issuing loans for new brick buildings. The banks based their decisions on the general economic condition of the city and on the prospects that Bialystok's textile industry would continue to grow steadily.
They granted loans covering up to 60–70 percent of a building's value. The interest rate was low–5 percent, including amortization. The loans were issued with a term of 38 years. This favorable starting point for construction was a major gain for Bialystok.
Suddenly, the number of new brick buildings began to rise. People built both for themselves and for rental purposes. Later, it became possible to obtain bank loans covering the full value of a house–and if the figures were embellished, even more than its worth. Builders were sometimes able to secure partial loans even before the buildings were completed. Such conditions truly gave rise to a new wave of speculation: undeveloped plots were purchased, large brick houses were erected, and the builders recouped all their expenses from the banks–sometimes even with a surplus.
Over the course of several decades, the city filled up, leaving no empty spaces behind. There were no fences anymore between the houses. The city expanded in both length and breadth. New streets were opened. New neighborhoods emerged, such as Argentina[7] and others. In general, the city developed hastily–literally in a fever–and quickly reached a vast expanse.
All construction in Bialystok was carried out exclusively by Jews, who built the city from the ground up. From a modest village, they established a shtetl and gradually transformed it into a city–and eventually, nearly into a metropolis. It is important to emphasize: the building contractors, the laborers, the suppliers, the partial suppliers, the bricklayers, the carpenters, the plumbers, and the locksmiths–they were all Jews. Jewish energy, Jewish enterprise, and Jewish craftsmanship came together to shape Bialystok.
Had this feverish wave of construction continued, Bialystok–driven by Jewish initiative and labor–might have grown into a truly great city. But the process was interrupted. The great industrial crisis of 1900 erupted. Building activity had been fueled by easily accessible, low-interest loans, based on the mistaken assumption of lasting prosperity in the textile industry and a permanent economic upswing. All of this changed–suddenly and decisively.
A large number of houses remained with the banks, as their owners could no longer meet their payments. The properties were sold at reduced prices and passed into other hands. The economic crisis sparked a mood of emigration, both within Bialystok itself and throughout the surrounding region.
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The houses no longer yielded their previous income, as rents had dropped sharply. The Zemelni banks had burned themselves quite thoroughly and stopped lending for housing altogether. Thus, the construction of new houses came to a halt, and meanwhile, fires broke out in many existing ones – especially behind the city, on Argentina Street.
From that time on, the city ceased to grow. It remained more or less within the bounds of the year 1900, even after the economic crisis had passed and the population had increased. There were no vacant houses anymore–on the contrary, there was a shortage of housing, and rents rose. Yet despite this, few new buildings were constructed. Thus it remained until the outbreak of the First World War.
After 1918, when a large portion of the refugees returned to Bialystok, there was a great demand for housing. Even for uncomfortable, poorly equipped dwellings, high prices were paid. Bonuses were offered to homeowners just to secure a place to live.
Such a situation ought to have led to a new upswing in residential construction. Yet–paradoxical as it may sound–no new houses were built. These were difficult transitional years, as can be inferred from what has already been recounted. Only a handful of factory ruins were converted into dwellings. Moreover, a considerable number of larger apartments were subdivided into smaller units.
Until the year 1777, the Jewish community of Bialystok was not independent, but rather subordinate to the golel-kehile[8] in Tiktin [Tykocin]. A truly autonomous organization of its own kehile existed in Bialystok only from 1777 to 1795–no longer than 18 years. This period was too brief to establish enduring traditions in communal life. After 1795, first the Prussian and then the Russian authorities revoked the community's right to independent self-governance. It remained merely a religious kehile, and even that was not clearly structured. This explains the neglect of communal institutions.
Bialystok itself had always shown understanding for the needs and hardships of other Jewish communities. Its willingness to respond with sensitivity to another community in times of distress is truly admirable. It suffices to mention the substantial aid Bialystok provided during the great fires in Brisk, Kobrin, Grodno, Volkovysk, Vashlikova [Wasylków], and elsewhere.
Whenever the need arose, prominent and well-to-do citizens, as well as humble and warm-hearted individuals, would immediately step forward to collect funds and appeal to the public for the necessary assistance. And the public of Bialystok would typically respond with a generosity and magnanimity of which Bialystok's sons and daughters can be proud–wherever in the world they may find themselves.
But Bialystok, too, came to know the generosity of other communities, and of distant organizations and individuals, when our city found itself in dire need following the terrible pogrom.
Bialystok had always been a thoroughly Jewish city. The only thing that had changed significantly over time was the character of its Judaism and the expression of typically Jewish life. In the earlier kehile, it was the native Jewish intellectual–the Talmudic scholar–who set the tone, a figure in whom deep knowledge of rabbinic Judaism was joined with a life of moral practice. The scholar spent his leisure hours in study. He remained distant from the foreign technical culture of Europe. His learning was pursued solely lishmo–[for its own sacred sake].
It was through the Jewish scholar–not the gvir [the wealthy man]–that the Jewish lineage was preserved. Jewish nobility was not shaped by material power or force, as it is among the nations of the world, but by intelligence, knowledge, and a pure life lived with the Torah and in accordance with it.
Gradually, the place of the scholar within the kehile was taken over by the new intelligentsia and party leaders. For this, extensive Jewish learning was no longer a prerequisite. What mattered now was the ability to speak before an audience, the influence one held over one's group or party members, and the general trait of pushing oneself forward or assuming leadership. Previously, the individual–their talents and personal qualities–had played a more central role.
Afterwards, the grupe [group] began to replace him–in line with their platforms and through their methods. This is a widespread phenomenon, but in Bialystok it was particularly pronounced. In earlier years, Bialystok was known for telling stories about great individuals. In recent times, however, the focus has shifted to parties and groups, and to their accomplishments.
Since Bialystok was such an important industrial center, the activities of the early organizers of the labor movement played a more prominent role in the life of the kehile than elsewhere. Later came the freedom movement of 1903–1906, which left its mark on Jewish life in Russia and Poland. Yet nowhere was the imprint of the revolutionary movement as deeply felt as in Bialystok.
A great flood with stormy waves broke into the previously calm current of life. When the strong surge subsided, the upheaval it had caused became evident. It had created a certain divide between the masses and the other social strata. This was noticeable in all communal activities, in all general gatherings from which the larger community institutions had emerged.
On the one hand, the labor movement–like all other modern currents–and on the other, the student youth, brought about changes in the entire way of life of the city. Through the children attending foreign-language schools, a spirit both free and unfamiliar entered most Jewish households, even the most devout. The entire community began to take on a new face.
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Even though the old ways of life remained outwardly intact, a new spirit had already taken hold within. In most bote-medroshim, there was scarcely a minyen [prayer quorum] on weekdays for prayer–let alone people for study. Piety, among the respectable middle classes, had become more of an external etiquette than the deep, heartfelt faith it once was. And even though, in recent years, new and beautiful institutions for Jewish education had been established, this did not alter the overall character of the new way of life. The decline of Jewish tradition was clearly reflected in the deterioration of the Bialystoker rabbinate.
While the rabbinical court of Bialystok was still fully functioning, its judges were outstanding Torah scholars, and the court was composed of three to four moyre-hoyroes [rabbis and halachic decisors], under the authority of a chief rabbi–the Rav. A moyre-hoyroe was appointed only when needed, and solely by the Rav, with the involvement of Jewish scholars and individuals of high standing.
In recent decades, moyre-hoyroes were no longer appointed out of necessity, but rather because they were promoted by well-positioned, influential citizens.
Among the circles of the intelligentsia and the affluent, it had become fashionable to be anti-religious. The younger working class, too, was consciously irreligious. Even on Shabbat and holidays, work was carried out. The sanctity of the kosher table had faded from daily life. There was no thought of teaching children how to pray.
At the end of the last century and the beginning of the present one, there were still no public violators of Shabbat in Bialystok– no shopkeepers who kept their stores open, no one smoking openly in the streets. By 1905, things had already changed. One could see barbers working behind half-closed doors. One saw people strolling about with cigarettes between their lips. The war continued along this path. Even after the war, Bialystok remained outwardly a Jewish city– as could still be seen on Shabbat and the holidays. But it was more form than substance. The spirit of the former Sabbath and the former holy days had definitively vanished.
The same transformations that took place across Jewish towns and cities occurred in Bialystok with greater force and swifter pace, for Bialystok transitioned rapidly and noisily from its old economic condition to the rise of an industrial city. And Bialystok's industry–especially its textile production–experienced highs and lows, and each fluctuation sent tremors through the entire city.
Economic crises, years of rapid development, revolutionary movements, pogrom, war, new governments, new upheavals– all of this kept Bialystok in constant motion, in pursuit, in an unending cycle of changing living conditions to which one had to continually readjust. Perhaps the people of Bialystok became more restless than elsewhere– but perhaps also more energetic.
The streets were always simmering. There was a constant pulse of life, of initiative, of enterprise. In the last ten years, Bialystok was a city that boiled and bubbled. It seethed with energy–economic as well as cultural. Not everything that bubbled up came to fruition, but there was no shortage of enterprise, nor of the confidence to keep trying.
The entire rhythm of life changed before my very eyes. When I arrived in Bialystok, remnants of feudal conditions still lingered, alongside primitive forms of sustenance and livelihood. An inn, a tavern, a wine shop, a leasehold, a distillery, a brewery, or a buying trade–the purchase and resale of goods– peddling, small-scale trade in grain, wool, livestock, and so forth, and of course also: storekeeping, brokerage, and craftsmanship– these were the means by which Jews earned their bread. Such economic activity required no special knowledge. One simply had to know how to come to terms with the peasant.
Even prominent merchants who played a role in the business world, even community activists and shtadlonim [advocates and intermediaries], could not speak Russian or Polish as fluently as the times required.
Within the span of twenty years, from 1880 to 1900, all of this changed. Factories emerged, and with them the businesses that depended on them. New needs arose–in education and in practical knowledge. Together with these new demands and opportunities, all forms of economic life began to sprout, as we have described in detail.
At the same time, Bialystok possessed the strength to create something meaningful in the social and cultural spheres as well.
This rapid growth also brought with it developments that one would not wish to highlight with particular joy. Sadly, not everything moved upward. In my estimation, Bialystok produced more valuable and lasting contributions in the intellectual sphere during the 19th century than in the later period. And likewise, the works in the field of Talmud at that time surpassed, in content and significance, the works produced in the realm of Haskalah [Enlightenment]. In the most recent era, Yiddish works have entirely replaced Hebrew ones: the Hebrew book and its author have all but disappeared from Bialystok.
This partial intellectual decline can be explained by the fact that commerce and industry absorbed much of the community's creative energy and interest.
There is not even a single bookstore in Bialystok that sells Hebrew books. The only Hebrew volumes actually sold are textbooks for the Hebrew schools. While there is an excellent Sholem Aleichem Library with many Yiddish books, and Polish readers have ample opportunity to obtain books in Polish, serious Hebrew readers have no library of their own. The study library of the kehile is still a young institution.
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It cannot, for the time being, meet the demand for Hebrew books.
The affluent, bourgeois middle class–which gave rise to and sustained Chibbat Zion [Love of Zion], Agudat Chovevei Sfat Ever [Society of Lovers of the Hebrew Language], Zionism, and the Hebrew school movement– that same middle class which in fact founded and supported all local Jewish religious and philanthropic institutions, is now going through difficult times.
And when a member of the middle class strives to provide education for his children, he may no longer have the strength to maintain himself and others within his circle at the spiritual level the times require.
Yet in its place, a new youth is growing and taking shape–nationally minded and steeped in Hebrew– a youth striving to put its national ideals into practice. It is no less vigorous than the youth of the workers' circles, nourished by Yiddish–by its language, its literature, and its spirit.
Before my very eyes, the way of organizing one's life began to change. Once, the center was the bes-hamedresh, then the cultural circle, the group devoted to Haskalah, to Chibbat Zion, and so on. In recent decades, the cultural circle has given way to the political grouping–the party.
As in all Jewish cities, it is the party organization that has come to assume the leading role in Białystok. Białystok contains every shade of political life– from the far right to the far left.
Translator's notes:
The long, somewhat crooked Pyaskes, which stretched as far as the village of Slabode, and from which branched off in later years the “Argentine Alley”, and even later Rebbe's Alley, Malinovskiy Alley, and Flaker's Alley. All these “Argentine Alleys”, as they were called, stretched across the wide field to the forest, past the wooden barracks of the “Vladimirsk[aya] Regiment”. Return
Translated by Beate Schützmann-Krebs
English Proofreading by Dr. Susan Kingsley Pasquariella
During World War II, Avraham Shmuel Hershberg suffered the same tragic fate as the other Jews in Bialystok. He was already old and ill at the time. On 10 May 1940, the YTA (Jewish Telegraph Agency) reported that Hershberg had died in Bialystok.
However, this news proved to be incorrect. During the cruel war, Hershberg's fate was unknown to the outside world, as was the case with other remaining Jews in Bialystok in Hitler's hell.
After the war, Avraham Shmuel Hershberg's family in New York received a letter from the renowned Jewish scholar and writer Berl Mark. At that time, he was chairman of the newly formed Jewish Literary Society in Warsaw. In his letter, Berl Mark wrote:
“In response to your inquiry regarding the fate and death of the well-known Jewish historian and writer from Bialystok, I can inform you that he perished during the second liquidation of the Bialystoker Ghetto on August 17 or 18, 1943.
He was taken away by the Jewish police together with his daughter and the secretary of the Jewish community, Bakhrakh. He behaved very dignifiedly and gave a sharp reply to a German hooligan who wanted to beat him. He (Avraham Shmuel Hershberg) fell down in the middle of the street. Supported by the arms, he was led onto the death wagon. In the ghetto, he had lived in his old house on Gumyener Street. Unfortunately, his huge [quantities of] documents and manuscripts are no longer there.”
by Avraham Shmuel Hershberg
Translated by Beate Schützmann-Krebs
English Proofreading by Dr. Susan Kingsley Pasquariella
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Regarding the construction of the large town clock in Bialystok, it is said that…
At that time, the police were stationed in Eli Meylekh's house on Yatke Street. The police chief issued an order for his officers to capture all dogs, cats, pigs, goats, cattle, and other similar animals found straying on the streets. Then, they were to impose a fine of 10 kopecks for each animal.
The police chief collected the money in a special tin box. Once he had collected one hundred and fifty rubles, he used the money to build the large town clock.
In Bialystok, people also said that Moyshe Trop had made the clock. Throughout his life, he used to check and regulate it.
Ultimately, when the Bolsheviks took Bialystok, they tore down the town clock. A park was built in its place.[1]
Translator's note:
Translated by Beate Schützmann-Krebs
English Proofreading by Dr. Susan Kingsley Pasquariella
Jewish Białystok played an important role in the rise and growth of the Chovevei Zion [Lovers of Zion] movement. It was one of the major centers of Zionism, with a proliferation of diverse groups and associations. The goal of the early Chovevei Zion initiators in Białystok – as it later was for official Zionism – was to help settle Jews in Eretz Yisroel, to establish Jewish colonies in the Jewish homeland, and similar efforts.
From the very beginning, Chovevei Zion and the Zionists had a strong influence on the local Jewish population, especially among the more affluent class. The spread of the Hebrew language – both in teaching and in everyday use – was also clearly visible. A number of Hebrew teachers who were active in Białystok at the time made a respectable living by teaching others Hebrew.
The well-known Hebrew newspaper HaTzefirah had, at that time, between three hundred and four hundred subscribers in Białystok.
The founders of the Chovevei Zion movement in Białystok, which was established on the evening following Shavuot in the year 5642 (1882), were: Yosef Binyamin Krinski, Zvi Hirsh Liberman, Dr. Yosef Chazanowicz, Yaakov Alter Sapirshteyn, Pesach Wittenberg, Yehoshua Heshel Klementinowski, Kalman Pikus, Shabtai Rudkovski, Khayim Margolis, Yehuda Yosef Yelin, Yekhiel Goldshteyn, Avraham Leibowitsh, Menakhem Mendel Kretshmer, Yitskhok Yafe, Yisrael Khayim Shtimer, Ben-Zion Lifshits, Dan Levin, Lipa Kaganovitsh, Zvi Yehuda Braynski, and Simkha Bunim HaLevi Ish Hurvits [Horovitz].
The first meeting of the Chovevei Zion group took place at the home of Yaakov Sapirshteyn, in the shul-hoyf [synagogue courtyard]. The second gathering, which was already significantly larger, was held at the home of Dr. Yosef Chazanowicz. At that meeting, the group also elected its gaboim [treasurers]: Dr. Chazanowicz, Rabbi Meir Markus, Yaakov Wolf, Barukh Freydenberg, Aharon Yehoshua Shapira, Nionye Goldshteyn, and Ben-Zion Lipshits [sic].
The Chovevei Zion society grew rapidly, and within a short time after its founding, it already had several hundred members – primarily weavers – with Shmuel Shturman as its head.
The Chovevei Zion movement in Białystok continued to grow steadily during that period and gained increasing influence within the communal life of the Jewish population. Its impact expanded so rapidly that R' Shmuel Mohilever was chosen to serve as rabbi in Białystok solely thanks to the Chovevei Zion group.
Indeed, after his arrival in Białystok, Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever became the central figure of the Chovevei Zion movement. The group's influence on Jewish social and communal life continued to grow steadily.
Under Białystok's influence, Chovevei Zion groups were also founded in other locations. At that time, a general gathering of Chovevei Zion groups from various places was held in Druskenik [Druskininkai?]. It was there that the decision was made to designate Odessa as the central hub of the movement.
Dr. Leon Pinsker was appointed chairman of the central committee, and Moyshe Leyb Lilienblum became its general secretary. In 1890, the Chovevei Zion organization was officially legalized in Russia under the name Society for the Support of Jewish Agricultural Workers in Syria and Palestine, with its central office located in Odessa.
At the first central conference in Odessa, held in 1890, the delegates from Białystok were Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever, Dr. Yosef Chazanowicz, and Yitskhok Ayzik Ben-Tovim. After the Odessa conference, they traveled to Eretz Yisroel to observe and familiarize themselves with the work of the early Jewish colonies there.
In his activities within and around the Chovevei Zion movement, R' Shmuel Mohilever consistently aimed to establish a Zionist organization in Russia. To this end, the first assembly was convened in Białystok in the autumn of 1897. Around fifty individuals were present, most of them well-known members of Chovevei Zion.
At this gathering, the foundation was laid for the Zionist organization in Russia, which would later play a significant role in the general Zionist movement. The appointed representatives for Russia divided the organizational work as follows: Białystok – the spiritual center; Kiev – the financial center; Kishinev – the postal center; Warsaw – the literary center (propaganda and enlightenment).
Shortly thereafter, in May 1898 (19 Sivan 5658), Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever passed away.
After the passing of Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever, Białystok entered a transitional period – from Chibat Zion [Love of Zion] to political Zionism, the form of Zionism created and promoted by Dr. Herzl. Within Zionist circles, new leaders and devoted activists emerged, who began to spread Zionism widely among the Jewish public.
The movement also attracted many young Jewish individuals, who, through their initiative and activism, introduced new ideological directions and a fresh approach to the Zionist cause. As a result, various Zionist associations and groups began to form in Białystok during that time, each with its own style of activity.
In their efforts to promote Zionist ideas and encourage emigration to Eretz Yisroel, these new Zionist groups made use of Yiddish, Hebrew, and also Russian. Numerous meetings, assemblies, and discussion evenings took place in the city. Each of these special groups advocated for its own views, and in this way, large segments of Białystok's Jewish population were influenced by the Zionist idea.
From the very beginning, as Zionist ideas and various activities spread throughout Białystok, a number of Jews began to emigrate to Eretz Yisroel to settle there. This continued in the years that followed. It is well known that Białystoker Jews from various circles, who went to build their new lives in the Jewish homeland, were among the first
[Page 16]
and most important pioneers in helping to develop Eretz Yisroel. Białystoker Jews also developed various important industries in Israel; they helped fight for and build the state.
They have consistently held important positions in the government of the State of Israel, and have distinguished themselves in defending and safeguarding the land.
Until the outbreak of the Second World War, Białystok was home to a vibrant and deeply rooted Zionist movement, with various groups, each according to its ideological orientation. This remained the case until Hitler's deluge arrived, alongside other Jewish political currents in Białystok.
Translator's note:
by Dr. Anatol Leshtshinski
Translated by Beate Schützmann-Krebs
English Proofreading by Dr. Susan Kingsley Pasquariella
The first Jews in the Bialystok area appeared in Bielsk in 1487. Subsequently, Jews appeared in Tikotsin [Tykocin] in 1522, Surazh in 1525, Garvi [Grajewo or Goworowo?] in 1560, Oygustov [Augustów] and Botshka [Boćki] in 1577, Kleshtel [Kleszczele] in 1580, and Raigrodsh [Rajgród] in 1587.
In 1605, the first Jews appeared in Bialystok, Orli [Orla], Yashnovtse [Jasionówka?], and Knishin [Knyszyn]. In 1753, the first Jews appeared in Bryansk. The oldest “kehiles” [Jewish communities] were established in Tykocin (1522), Bielsk and Bialystok (1542), Orla (1616), Botshki (1648), Augustów (1674), Knyszyn (1705), Raigrodsh [Rajgród] (1719), Yashyonovke [Jasionówka?] (1731), and in Gonyandz [Goniadz].
It should be noted that the “kehile” in Bielsk was liquidated in the second half of the 18th century. During that very same century, most Jews in the area lived in Bialystok and Tykocin. It is estimated that approximately half of the Jews in the Bialystok area lived in villages during this period.
Jews from Lithuania had lived in the Bialystok area from the beginning. Later, Jewish refugees from Germany arrived, as did Jews fleeing the advancing armies of [Bohdan] Khmelnytsky in the mid-17th century.
The Jews there earned their livelihood primarily through crafts, tavern keeping, peddling in towns and villages, money lending, leasing, and similar activities. At that time, Jewish craftsmen in that area practiced 39 trades.
The most popular were:
Tailors, butchers, bakers, brewers, fur traders, gilders, and coachmen among others.
In terms of foreign trade, the Jews of Tykocin and Bialystok were quite active in this area. They had trade connections with distant cities such as Königsberg, Frankfurt, Odre, [Frankfurt Oder?], Leipzig, and Wrocław, as well as with Tsarist Russia.
The Jews of Knyszyn and Orla traded with Königsberg as well. Jewish merchants from the Bialystok area exported locally manufactured products and imported herring, textiles, metals, metal constructions, minerals, chemicals, and foodstuffs.
Jewish imports of various products from abroad greatly impacted the development of local industry. They also enriched regions that lacked grain and had insufficient agricultural development.
In terms of local trade within the country itself, the Jews of Tykocin, Bialystok, Orla, and Botshek were the most active. They traded with merchants from Grodne [Grodno], Varshe [Warsaw], Torne [Torun?], and Gdansk. Various goods were brought and transported away on large carts harnessed to two or four horses.
In general, Jewish merchants from the Bialystok area traded 160 different goods at that time.
The oldest Jewish occupations in the area included leasing mills and taverns, collecting fees for producing liquor [in the course of the propination laws], and generating income from rivers, among others.
In my thesis, I discovered that Jewish economic activities in that region and time period significantly contributed to the economic development of cities with Jewish communities.
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Translator's notes:
by Dr. Shmuel Refael Landau
Translated by Beate Schützmann-Krebs
English Proofreading by Dr. Susan Kingsley Pasquariella
I do not write this article as a Zionist or as an ideological essayist, but rather as a devoted admirer of Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever, who for many years held the rabbinical seat in Białystok.
In my opinion, the renowned personality of the founder of the Chovevei Zion movement has not been properly appreciated – neither as a towering figure in his own right, nor as one of the forerunners of the Zionist idea. The few days I, the author of this article, had the opportunity to spend with him –already the final days before his passing – remain among the most cherished memories of my life, etched deeply into my heart.
But first, a few words about the personality of Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever.
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Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever was born in Gluboke [Hlybokaye], near Vilna. He first served as a rabbi in Suwałki, and later in Radom, where he began to gain recognition throughout the Jewish diaspora.
It was during this period that the tragic and infamous Russian pogroms occurred. Leo Pinsker had just written his famous pamphlet Autoemancipation (zelbstbafrayung), under the influence and anguish of those pogroms. The call reached Jewish kibbutzim [communities] everywhere, and Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever – already eighty-five years old, an elder at a time when others were withdrawing from public life – threw himself into the work of Shivat Zion [“Return to Zion”] with the full fire of his youthful soul, undeterred by his age.
He went on to found the first Chovevei Zion [Lovers of Zion] association in Warsaw. A year later, he was invited by the Jewish community of Białystok to serve as its moreh derekh – its spiritual guide and leader.
Białystok, already then a prominent Jewish city – an ir va'em beYisroel – with its Jewish renown, its Torah scholars and Jewish intelligentsia, found the devout rabbi deeply appealing. He had publicly declared his support for a Jewish homeland in Eretz Yisroel – a daring step at the time for a religious Jew, and all the more so for a rabbi.
Devout Jews regarded Zionism and the idea of returning to Eretz Yisroel independently as a sin, and the struggle between the zealots and those seeking to introduce a new idea into Jewish life was fierce.
The Jews of Białystok – already engaged in large-scale trade across great distances and well acquainted with the wider world – found such a rabbi deeply appealing, and they brought him to Białystok with great honor.
As the newly appointed rabbi of Białystok, he traveled to Paris to meet with Baron Rothschild and win his support for a broad Jewish colonization effort in Eretz Yisroel. The Chief Rabbi of France, Tzadok HaKohen, assisted him in his mission, and with Baron Rothschild's financial backing, he succeeded in founding the first Jewish colonies in Eretz Yisroel. Thus began, in practice, the Chibat Tzion [Love of Zion] movement – the first cornerstone had been laid.
In the year 1884, Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever was already at the head of the then-famous Zionist conference in Katowice – thirteen years before the First Zionist Congress. Together with him at the conference were prominent Jewish figures from various countries, who would later play major roles at the First Zionist Congress in Basel.
Besides Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever, another landsman from Białystok was present at the Katowice conference – Dr. Chazanowicz, the founder of the National Library in Jerusalem, which to this day remains a jewel of the yishev [Jewish settlement].
Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever was then elected honorary president of the Katowice conference,
[Page 18]
and Dr. Leo Pinsker was elected president.
Since the conference happened to coincide with the hundredth birthday of the renowned Jewish philanthropist Moses Montefiore – whose centennial was being celebrated in Jewish kibbutzim – it was decided to establish a central association with the goal of colonizing Jews in Eretz Yisroel, under the name Montefiore Association.
The association quickly spread across large and small communities alike, with more than sixty groups and over ten thousand members, and Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever was elected president of the association.
Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever's popularity began to grow even in countries far beyond Russia.
The student association Kadima, which existed at the time in Vienna – and from which later emerged prominent Jewish national leaders and Zionist activists – decided in 1885 to appoint as honorary members Baron Edmond Rothschild, the well-known Russian-Jewish tea magnate Wissotzky, and Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever.
On a journey to Reichenhall, he visited Vienna to meet with the Viennese Baron Rothschild and the Jewish baron Königswarter, hoping to interest both of them in the work for Eretz Yisroel. But an unfortunate incident prevented him from having a direct conversation with them. He then asked Dr. Leo Pinsker to meet with the two Jewish millionaires and draw them into the work for Shivat Zion.
In 1891, he traveled to Paris to meet the renowned Baron Hirsch and interest him in Jewish colonization efforts in Eretz Yisroel – just as Hirsch was then involved in Jewish colonization in Argentina. But unfortunately, this attempt did not succeed.
Later, he made another effort to return to Vienna, hoping once again to meet with other Jewish millionaires and interest them in Jewish colonization in Eretz Yisroel. Some of them he succeeded in persuading – and some he did not.
His strenuous work and distant travels took their toll and undermined his health, and when the First Zionist Congress took place in Basel, he was unable to attend due to his condition.
He then sent his grandson, Dr. Yosef Mohilever, to Basel and entrusted him with a message for the Congress. One of his proposals in that message was the creation of Keren Kayemet L'Yisrael – the so-called Jewish National Fund.
I consider it my duty to underscore the significance of Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever in relation to Keren Kayemet, and I hold that he was in fact the true founder of the Fund. And it is all the more noteworthy that whenever Keren Kayemet is mentioned, only the name of Professor Hermann Shapiro is typically recalled.
Keren Kayemet was indeed established at the First Basel Congress, and the contributions of Professor Hermann Shapiro to the Fund must not be diminished – but the figure of Rabbi Mohilever, whom I regard as its actual founder, must also be remembered.
Here I will mention his remark regarding Keren Kayemet:
“The Zionists should purchase land in Eretz Yisroel,” he said, “and build houses – which is the most important commandment in our Torah.”
He also made efforts to persuade the ICA [Jewish Colonization Association] in Paris to allocate part of its funds for Eretz Yisroel.
As its first act of recognition for his work, the National Fund inscribed his name in the Golden Book – a tribute that will remain for generations.
In the year 1897, I, the writer of this article, traveled on a study tour through Jewish towns in Poland and Galicia. At that time, I had the opportunity to meet Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever personally – who was then a world-renowned figure.
I entered a modest apartment on one of Białystok's quiet streets – it was Gumyener [Gumienna] Street. An elderly man with a noble countenance greeted me with a shalom aleichem and reminded me of my grandfather, the Krakow HaRav Rabbi Raphael Shaul Landau, of blessed memory, with his white silver beard.
It was evident that he suffered from ailments in his legs. He asked me to sit down and moved a chair toward me, and he too – the old man dressed in a black silk robe – sat down.
Our conversation began about Jewish colonization, Zionism, and the Jewish Colonial Bank, which was then a highly topical issue. I did not take my eyes off the splendid figure of Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever. Suddenly, to my astonishment, I saw that the aged rabbi's face lit up as he spoke about Jewish colonization. His wise eyes, which had earlier seemed tired, now shone with youthful fire. A smile hovered on his lips as he spoke continuously about the hopes and dreams of those who would now carry forward the work he had begun.
Throughout our conversation, he did not utter a single word about himself. He spoke about the youth – about those who are the future of our people. At a certain remark of mine, he replied: “I believe in the victory of the Zionist idea as a popular Jewish movement.”
Before parting, he lifted his eyes to heaven and made a remark that I heard quite clearly:
“I am ready to sacrifice my life.”
These words were spoken in a moment of boundless enthusiasm, after I had made a comment about certain difficulties that the Zionist idea was already encountering at the time.
After this conversation with the renowned Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever, I took my leave. Only later, when I was out in the street and had the opportunity to speak with Jews from various walks of life – workers, merchants,
[Page 19]
and simply respectable householders of Białystok – did I truly realize how beloved and esteemed the elder was in the city, across all classes of Jews. Everyone spoke of him with wonder, as if of a “miracle-working rabbi.”
All knew well that upon arriving in Białystok, he had brought with him forty thousand rubles – a fortune at the time – and had distributed it entirely for charity. He lived only from the rent that the community provided him.
On the nineteenth day of Sivan, in the year 1898, the heart of this renowned and brilliant man ceased to beat, and he passed away. Thirty hours before his death, surrounded by close friends and companions, he signed a proclamation in Hebrew – a document that was later disseminated throughout all the communities of Israel. It begins with the words:
Akhim yekarim ve-nikhbadim - “Dear and honored brothers.”
The full text of this remarkable proclamation can be found in my book, in both Hebrew and German. The proclamation ends with words that read like a final testament:
“Let us all work with all our strength for our people, and the Lord who chooses Zion will help us.”
He signed it Mizrakhi[3] – this was the signature he often used.
Translator's notes:
by Mordechai Pogorelski
Translated by Beate Schützmann-Krebs
English Proofreading by Dr. Susan Kingsley Pasquariella
As early as 1882, seventy Jewish weavers in Białystok went on strike against the factory owner Aharon Surazki (a Kotsker Chasid) demanding higher wages. Most of the striking weavers were Chasidim from the very same shtibl where their employer prayed. Following this strike, it became commonplace to strike for higher wages as soon as the textile industry experienced an upturn.
A strike of much greater scope – which engulfed the entire textile industry in 1894, with the majority of participants being non-Jews – broke out in protest against the Tsarist government's plan to introduce factory inspections via individual worker booklets. As a protest against this decree, all sectors of the textile industry abandoned the factories. The strike lasted more than three weeks.
The workers returned only after the police chief and the factory inspector addressed the assembled strikers on an empty lot in Old-Boyare, explaining that the booklets would prevent employers from dismissing workers without cause and would require them to pay wages weekly. This had an effect.
Ten thousand workers took part in the strike. That same year, the first strike demonstration by Jewish weavers took place – not only did they surround the factory, they also entered it and drove out the strikebreakers.
In the 1890s, a series of strikes took place in Białystok – not against the factory owners, but against the loynketnikes (contractors), for whom workers earned lower wages than when employed directly by the factory owners. The goal was for the factory owners to take all the weavers into their factories directly, thereby eliminating the loynketnikes, the middlemen. This goal was not achieved, but a small gain was made – a kopek on a motek (“a measure of yarn on a spool”) was won.
By the year 1900, the number of Jewish workers in all trades, including weavers, exceeded 5,000.
By the end of the 19th century, textile workers had fought for and won a 12-hour workday. The average weekly wage of a weaver in the regular factories was 6 to 7 rubles. Among the loynketnikes, it ranged from 3 to 5 rubles per week; shererkes [warpers] and winders earned 3 to 4 rubles; nuperkes [fabric menders] earned 2 to 3 rubles, and the lowest-paid shpulyarkes [spoolers] earned only 1.5 to 2 rubles per week.
The weavers were employed in 70 direct-hiring factories and by 200 loynketnikes. The largest number of looms in a single factory was 67; the smallest, 5. Among the loynketnikes, the largest number of looms was 28, the smallest, 3. The loynketnik would receive the raw material – yarn – from the factory owner and return the finished woven goods.
With the arrival of the great economic crisis in Białystok in 1900, the number of employed weavers dropped sharply. Three-quarters of the factories were shut down. Unemployment was widespread; the hardship immense. The weavers and their wives even delayed the Torah reading[3] – they did not allow the Torah to be read on Shabbat.
The Jewish community was forced to open soup kitchens for the unemployed, charging four kopeks for a bowl of soup with bread. The poverty was so severe that many didn't even have the four kopeks. The kitchen organizers were compelled to provide free meals to a large portion of the unemployed.
From the beginning of 1900 until May of that year, 150 free meals were distributed to the jobless. I remember how small loafs of coarse black bread were handed out upon presentation of a note from the community. At that time, bread cost two kopeks per pound.
This crisis greatly contributed to the expansion and consolidation
[Page 20]
of the Bundist movement in Białystok. From 200 organized Białystoker Bundists in 1898, the number had grown to approximately 700 by 1901. They were known by the name bakante – “the known ones.”
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The Bund was the one that tilled the soil of the Jewish street – it inspired the Jewish masses to cast off the trashy novels. In those years, cheap romances were widely circulated. The Bund promoted popular scientific books, as well as the Cultural History by Philip Krantz, The Four Brothers, and similar works. It also disseminated books and journals by our literary classics: Mendele, I. L. Peretz, Sholem Aleichem, Avrom Reyzen, and others.
A particularly important role was played by the Yontev-bletlekh [Holiday leaflets] of Y. L. Peretz. They were not only read at the skhodkes [meetings, often illegal], but also studied and discussed – the content of the stories and poems was interpreted, explained, and analyzed. In the same manner, people studied the illegal brochures and articles from Di Tsukunft and Der Yidisher Arbeter. These underground books and pamphlets were passed from hand to hand so often that they would fall apart – prompting the idea to bind them in black, tarred covers.
Toward the end of the last decade of the 19th century – between 1887 and 1898 – two Jewish libraries were established. Officially, they were private, but in fact, they were communal. One was a Hebrew library, located on Gumyener [Gumienna] Street, in the home of the well-known Mizrakhi leader, the Rav of Białystok, Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever.
That library contained nearly the entire corpus of Hebrew literature of the time. Respectable young men and boys – most of them Zionist-leaning – were the main patrons who borrowed books from the Hebrew library.
Avraham Kotik's library on Pavetshizne Street – not far from Novolipie Street – held Russian, German, and Yiddish books. Hundreds of subscribers borrowed books there, both during the day and in the evening. Kotik's library was widely known among Jewish youth in general, and among Jewish workers in particular. In addition to Russian and German classics, it also housed radical and socialist books that were legal in Russia.
These two libraries played a major role and held tremendous significance for the development of Jewish social and national-Jewish consciousness. They served as reservoirs from which the public could draw general knowledge. They cultivated the progressive social thought and nurtured the national-Jewish feeling.
At that time, a new figure appeared on the Jewish street – the half-intellectual, ironically referred to as the khetzi-inteligent. Some came from the organized working class, shaped by the Bundist intelligentsia; others emerged from the yeshivas. These were people who had already learned Russian and German, read their literatures, studied political economy, cultural history, and the development of Western European labor movements.
Jewish students from the gymnasiums and other secondary schools also joined the revolutionary movements. These elements became the teachers and enlighteners, leading agitation and propaganda for the Bund. They played the central cultural role in shaping the Jewish masses.
That Białystok was one of the main strongholds of the Bund is evidenced by the fact that from 1900 to 1902, the Bund's Central Committee was based there. In addition to the professional intelligentsia who led the Bundist organization and the trade-based workers' movement under Bundist influence, three party leaders were active in Białystok: Noakh Portnoi, Dr. Pavel Rozental (Anman), and his wife Anna Rozental.
Białystok also hosted the Bund's third general assembly and its fourth conference.
The Bundist movement grew stronger year by year. In addition to Di Bundishe Shtime, the organ of the Bund's Central Committee, occasional flyers were published, as well as a newspaper called Di Białystoker Shtime, which focused specifically on local workers' interests.
With the economic upswing in the textile industry in 1902, the number of Jewish workers in factories and maysterskeyes (workshops) doubled. During that same period, in 1897, the Jewish national movement – Zionism – also emerged.
Soon after the First Zionist Congress, the Zionist movement assumed a significant position, with important figures such as the Białystoker Rav, Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever, Dr. Chazanowicz, Litman Rozental, and later the engineer Papperin.
[Page 21]
The last two – gifted orators of the highest caliber. The shuln where delegates from the Zionist Congresses delivered their reports were so overcrowded that the walls seemed to sweat.
Between 1900 and 1904, Zionist gatherings were held every Sabbath afternoon in the synagogue Edas Yeshurun [Community of the Righteous of Israel], on Novolipie Street.
At these meetings, the teacher Gedalia Bublick– later editor of the journal Yidishes Tageblat in America and a leader of the Mizrakhi movement – along with other Hebrew teachers, would speak about special epochs in Jewish history, aiming to awaken national-Jewish consciousness.
The Hebrew library on Gumyener Street, located in the home of R' Shmuel Mohilever, played a major role in cultivating this national awareness.
It was during this time, at the end of 1902, that the first Poalei Zion group was founded in Białystok.
Translator's notes:
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