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by Shlomo Schwartzberg
(Personalities, Incidents, Institutions of Our Abrogated Life)
The Physicians – Feldschers – In the Neustadt
The first person that I remember from my childhood was named R' Shmuel Rofeh – Haaus. His house, which was his own, was decorated on the front with two large double trees and a bench on which to sit. Later on, to the not-so-large ‘podvar’ – yard – led to a variety of rooms, and there was a built wooden sukkah there.
During the summer, the yard was planted with all manner of flowers. His house was clean, spotless, always cleaned up, not neglected. He lived not far from the Lemberg Highway – ‘In that end of the city.’
R' Shmuel Rofeh was broad in the back, of middle height, with a nice beard, which in my time was already gray, and a pair of wise eyes. Almost always, he was smiling. His profession – being a feldscher – he knew thoroughly, but he was a bit peculiar, – he almost never spoke.
Our Rabbi, ז”ל, respected him for his silence. Our R' Shmuel – the Rabbi would say – doesn't talk, so first of all, he keeps a secret, and who knows what stupidity and foolishness we blurt out; second – I think that we expend about half our lives in speaking, we sit around and talk – and what is the value of all this?
R' Shmuel Rofeh would go into the Bet HaMedrash every day to pray in public, never missing a single day, especially not Saturdays or Festivals. Every Saturday, he would take along between 4-5 guests with him to dine. He would also take guests in the middle of the week, just fewer of them. The storage bag for his prayer shawl was filled with ‘Khok LeYisrael,’ a ‘Shaarei Tzion,’ and other books, into which he would peer and from which he would recite. He had his own regular ‘study session,’ when he was not busy, otherwise, he would have to skip the ‘study session.’
He had a large ‘practice – Gentiles, and to make a distinction, Jews as well – he had more Gentiles, who actually paid better – Ahu Szmuliu, – his non-Jewish patients would say – Dobry Lekarz – Rofeh.’[1]
His comportment was as follows – he would come into the presence of the ill person, and immediately place the thermometer under the arm, and waited a bit, then took it out. If there was a little fever, he would say – ‘Yes, there is something here,’ smiling lightly, writing something down and advised: ‘not bad, you'll get well, we will be healthy.’ He would then engage in a conversation: –
– R' Shmuel, where does something like this come from?
– What's the difference, it's here already.
He never looked at what he was paid, never counting it, rather, putting it immediately into his pocket. He gave the mezuzah a kiss, and went off.
On a trip of this type, he would make several visits. And people thought the world of him – Ahah! – R' Shmuel, vazhneh![2]
I do not recall when he died; I do not recall how many children he had. I only know one of his sons, R' Leibusz Haaus – Feldscher Leibusz R' Shmuel Rofeh's, which is how he was called. This one was also a good, and very competent
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physician, but he, already, had a smaller ‘practice’ than his father; competition appeared. He was one would dealt with children – divorced from his first wife, he had one son, Abraham, who was a hairdresser.
Abraham married in Grabowiec, near Zamość, and also didn't make much of a living.
I would come to R' Leibusz Haaus often (a portion of his children studies with me). He was a born aristocrat, was a great conversationalist than his father. He loved antiques – and had a collection of salt shakers, small glasses, pictures, and the like. He had a bit of artistic talent, and collected picture postcards, sculpture, carvings. He also ‘dabbled’ in songs, especially folk songs. When he was divorced (for a number of years), he organized a ‘club’ in his house (he lived in his father's home) for the intelligentsia. Young people would often get together at his place, getting a ‘preference;’ Tzunzer's and Goldfadn's songs were sung at his place. In his time, he gave me a notebook full of songs. The tables of his ‘club’ were covered with all manner of cards, and the rooms full of art objects. Separately locked up, he had great art pictures, which he would only show to experts.
Like his father, he also received guests (true, not to the same degree). He would often take a guest in even to spend the night, and would give him some small amount of money to take on his way.
He was identical to his father in his religious observance as well. Every day, he would go to pray with the congregation, including Mincha and Maariv. For many years, he was also a Gabbai in the Bet HaMedrash. He discharged his responsibility as a Gabbai with a firm hand. He ran a book of expenses and income; he would collect pledges for aliyot. Everything was precisely recorded, and always reported in a clear accounting.
This is our (religious) club, he would argue. In accordance with his direction, 10 chapters of the Psalms were recited every day between Mincha and Maariv. Every day in the morning, just like his father, before prayers, he would recite the ‘Shaarei Tzion.’
One of his work deeds was, for the Festival holidays, to permit the washing of the walls, doors and windows of the Bet HaMedrash, and occasionally to whitewash. He continued to discharge his role as a Gabbai until the time of the Hitler regime, may his name be erased. Along with the members of his household, he was killed by the Nazis. Who knows, but some member of his family may yet be alive.
Another feldscher in the Neustadt was Rabbi Aharon-Leib Zimmerung. It was told that his father (or grandfather) was a Cantonist in the time of the Russian Czar Nicholas I, having served 25 years in the Czarist Army. After his 25 years of military service, he managed to get back to Zamość, and married here. Despite the fact that he was no longer a young man at the time he got married (about 50 years old), he sired a [new] generation. One of them, indeed, was the feldscher, Aharon-Leib.
Aharon-Leib's father was very pious, observing the Sabbath and the Festivals, and spoke with a harsh growl…a true soldier of Nicholas. If anything irritated him, he would curse with the appropriate Russian triple ‘blessing’ until – pra…pra…all the way to Adam himself.
The Russian authorities gave him access to the municipal hospital (gorodskaya balnitsa), where he worked for the hygienist (apparently engaged in military things) and made a living from this.
He would take his son, Aharon-Leib with him, as someone who would carry his instruments. So the father ‘instructed’ the son in this occupation. Aharon-Leib taught himself a little bit of Latin, and began to write prescriptions.
Aharon-Leib got married, stood for his examinations and passed. He received the title of ‘strashi vfeldscher’ and this permitted him to hang out the three mirrored plates…he developed quite a large practice. I still remember his sign, the 3 mirrored plates.
The new Polish authority did not recognize his ‘diploma’ and ordered that the plates be taken down. The evidence suggests that they did not approve of his Jewishness; his coarse, slightly grease-stained silken caftan; his Jewish hat
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with the with the ‘wide brim;’ his mirrored old-fashioned spectacles, and especially his wide, already gray beard. For these new rulers of Poland, he had too little proper education.
Aharon-Leib had a custom – to recite the entire Book of Psalms every day. As much as he could get into to reciting at the Bet HaMedrash he would do. He would fold over the place where he had to leave off, and later, in the house, after grabbing a bite, or visiting the sick, where he would have to remove bonkes[3], he would finish up the remaining chapters of the Psalms.
Indeed, his specialty was ‘applying bonkes.’ He was a real master at this. There was a frequent fear…what would we do after 120 years, who will be there to apply bonkes?…….
His copy of the Psalms lay in the bag that held his feldscher's instruments. Having applied the bonkes, he took himself to the Psalms, even in the home of a Christian patient. If he was interrupted – it is time to take off the bonkes, he would quietly silence you: – soon, soon, Mameleh, or Tateleh, Zuneleh, Tekhterl, we will take them off soon. It will be good, health will return, you will be healthy, and for this [prayer] you will be healthy. Closed the Book of Psalms, again folding over the page where he was interrupted, took off the bonkes, assembled his paraphernalia, gave the mezuzah a kiss, with a high kiss, and went along – to complete his reading of the Psalms….
He had an unusual beard; at that time there were many such beards, but with his, one could equip a half dozen Jews in the Other World. He had a spare little beard… it could be that this didn't find favor with our new Polish authorities.
To hear a Maggid was a sheer delight to him – literally like ‘a serving of kreplach.’ It was not only one time, upon hearing a Maggid, that his eyes would be full of tears…he comported himself as a very simple Jew. One of his phrases was, ‘I Aharon-Leib, the ignoramus, say…’
He didn't have much to say. When he died after the First World War, he was intensely mourned.
His son, Chaim Aharon-Leib's Zimmerung followed in his father's ways professionally, was a feldscher, and also well-known. But he was different from his father, both in his appearance and his conduct.
Not tall, slender, and shaven, to begin with, without a beard. In contrast to his father, he was voluble; a mouth to go around and around, that would never close. He could read and write a bit of Latin, more Polish, and not a bad Russian. He would (often not requested) accompany the big doctors to patients, in serious cases.
Apart from practicing as a feldscher, he had a ‘salon’ for ‘haircuts and shaves.’ For a long time, he was the only Jewish hairdresser by us. Later on, the hairdressing business went over to his oldest son, Yankel Zimmerung, and he dedicated himself exclusively to being a feldscher.
He also had a big practice. He was well regarded – ‘Chaim Aharon-Leib's knows a great deal,’ people used to say.
Despite being clean-shaven, he was scrupulous in going to prayers, even Mincha and Maariv with the congregation, while it is true, not as frequently as his father. He would not write any prescriptions on the Sabbath, even under the most urgent of instances. In general, none of the physicians in the Neustadt would write prescriptions on the Sabbath. He was not very observant, Chaim Aharon-Leib's, but he was also no breaker of the commandments.
At prayers, he would sing along with the Hazzan, and if the latter would make an error, which used to happen in the evenings at Maariv, when usually some guest would get up to lead the prayers – a ‘Yahrzeit.’ He would then remind everyone of the prayer ‘Shir HaMa'alot’ for the Maariv service.
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He was in his nature to use of the word ‘you’ in his speech.
– Listen, you, he would respond to a lady, who had taken off her wig (after the First World War), but you really pay attention! 14 monarchs waged war with each other, and did they do this so you would no longer have to wear a wig?
– Listen, you, you still don't have the prescription, – he would say to a poor patient, – and would then add some small change in addition to his visit, in order that he should be able to buy the prescriptions that had been written.
He loved children greatly – we have to save them, listen, do you hear, you? A child, a Jewish child, must live, must be healthy! – this was his constant refrain.
He made an effort to emulate his ‘competing colleague,’ meaning R' Leibusz Haaus. Indeed, he competed with him, and an opportunity presented itself.
Near the Bet HaMedrash, there was a vacant place, several hundred square meters. The owner was R' Meir Henoch's (Shtakhel). He constantly fought with the community (and he was a miser), so he makes up his mind that he wants to seel the place. R' Leibusz Haaus bought it for 150 rubles on behalf of the Bet HaMedrash.
So Chaim Aharon-Leib's decides that he has to create a fence around the property, in order to enclose it. But how? He has a plan: there are boards of lumber in the city, there are workers, carpenters, and we will publicly approach the honorable so-and-so and ask for about ten meters of board to be donated for the Bet HaMedrash fence; and in order to receive the adulation of the community, a Jew will go to who knows what lengths. So, with this in mind, there will be no shortage of honor, meaning wooden boards; the same will be done with the workers: the honorable so-and-so will hammer together two meters worth of the boards with his nails… and by this reasoning, he feels that he already had the fence.
Chaim Aharon-Leib's the feldscher began to carry out his plan. At the outset, it started off weakly; the public didn't take it seriously. But as boards were started to be donated, old ones, new ones, and a variety of materials; the carpenters worked, and Chaim Aharon-Leib's began to prevail – and a fence materialized!
So someone slipped him a thought – that the fence needs to be ‘dedicated.’ a fence-dedication should be made…and if there is to be a fence-dedication, certainly there must be musicians….
And so it was, on a nice morning, this dedication took place, and indeed, with music, Kalman Schuster's orchestra was retained. Toasts of L'Chaim were made; there was singing (mostly by Chaim the feldscher), the chapter of the Psalms relating to the rededication of The House [of the Lord] was read… people jested about it, but nevertheless, there was a fence, and it was a fine Jewish festive occasion.
From that time on, his name remained ‘Chaim Ployt[4].’
The constant feldscher in my father's house, and later in my house, was R' Leibusz Haaus, ע”ה. One time, when my baby daughter Basha, a child of 6-7 months old, overslept several times, we called Chaim Zimmerung to attend the child. He entered, lit a match, and brought it close to the child's eyes, and moved it back and forth. His diagnosis was that, unless he was mistaken, that the child has either poor vision, or is entirely blind. With proper expressions of his sympathy, he examined the child and went on his way. The neighbors later said that he, Chaim feldscher, said that the child will not live. Several months later, after very difficult suffering, the child passed away.
Both families of these ‘competing’ feldschers, of R' Leibusz Haaus and R' Chaim Zimmerung, were exterminated by the Nazis. If any one of them survived, I do not know.
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A Bit of Topography, Buildings and Places
From the Zamość Neustadt to the Altstadt, was exactly two viorst.[5] The first, ‘iron viorst,’ with black and white stripes drawn on it, stood with concrete walls near Jablonsky's house, diagonally opposite Moshe Proshovich's place, on the way where the large Zamość post office with the large double-headed, black Russian [Imperial] Eagle. The last thing there was a Polish Volksschule. The second viorst, following the appearance of the first one, was near the house of a Christian, almost beside the Jewish cemetery, between the Altstadt and the Neustadt. The third viorst already was at the entrance to the Altstadt, adjacent to the Szczebrzeszyn Gate.
One of my greatest pleasures (and not only mine), during my childhood years, was the walk, stroll, and promenade ‘into the city;’ walking about for hours, looking at the scenery, the potchinehs, the engineers-orchard, the Rotschule, etc.
Before entering the city, on the right, were the so-called ‘Zela Lukaszynska,’ a room, which was located in one of the long walls, which were already overgrown with grass. There were small, tiny windows there, a remnant of the fortress that had once been there. My grandmother, ע”ה told me that she remembered very well when and how the fortress was dismantled. The ‘Zela Lukaszynska’ was named after the Polish freedom fighter Lukaszynski, who was imprisoned for 22 years in this fortress, which in its day, also served as a prison. When I later saw the restored ‘Zela,’ I could not understand how a person could have sustained himself in there. The entire ‘room’ was no wider than a single human being. It was additionally told, that Lukaszynski would eat from the same dish as the mice (that is how familiar they became to one another). The sun never shone there.
From my childhood years, I recall that there was an entrance to this place which were very deep depressions. The entire place was surrounded by circular blocks, in order that people passing through not fall into the many-meters deep pits. It was told that these trenches and pits were required as a protection against the attack of an enemy. It was possible to fill them up with water, and this would serve to prevent an enemy from gaining access to the city. And that was how it was done, according to the stories that were passed down, during the Chmielnicki attack on Zamość.
At the time of the First World War and even later, during the time of Poland's independence, the blocks, ‘porenchehs,’ were liquidated, and the pits and trenches and battlements were all liquidated, straightened out – turning those places into promenades; this was also incorporated into the program of beautifying the city.
I can remember that during the ‘beautification’ of the city, how the old remnants of the fort were liquidated, and among them was ‘Zela Lukaszynska,’ and it its place, a bronze tablet to Lukaszynski was put up, at which time many of the Poles wept bitterly.
To the right side of the ‘Zela,’ there were large walls, also overgrown with grass on the tops. The seventh Russian Cossack Regiment was billeted here. A large insignia on the wall, with gold plated letters in Russian said that this was the stationing point of the ‘Seventh Don Cossack Regiment.’ Further on, to the left, by the very entrance, there was a separate stand alone one-storey building – a building with fortified walls, several steps off the ground; a large, walled yard, and in front, the insignia with the following inscription: ‘The Tenth Russian Don Cossack Regiment.’
These very two regiments cause trouble for the Zamość populace not only once (the Christians too). Attempts were made to intervene, but it didn't always help. Characteristically – the ‘Cossacks’ were afraid to come into the Neustadt. There, they would get their bones busted for them by a wagon driver, a shoemaker, or some one else, if they made an attempt to act up. Whether there was one or more of them – they would always get whacked about the sides…
Apart from these Cossack regiments, there were two infantry regiments stationed in Zamość. These foot troops were billeted in barracks outside of the city. I even remember one large wooden barracks in the Neustadt, in the middle of the market place itself. This [barracks] later became the home of Melekh Stoller (Schwartzberg).
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The contractors for the military who supplied hay, grain, meat and the like, were always Jewish. These contractors were the ones who pleaded on behalf of the city, and thanks to their intervention, the higher military leadership – generals and colonels – not once, guarded the city from ‘incidents;’ they would pen up their ‘children,’ the ‘rabble,’ and strenuously prevented them from exercising their will.
A very significant part of the populace – the jobbers and craftsmen – derived a rather fine living from the military.
During the Polish independence, the barracks of the 7th Don Cossack Regiment were converted into barracks for the new Polish military. The building of the 10th Cossack Regiment was re-built into a large city theater, ‘Stilov.’
The entrance into the city was significantly widened, and beautified. The city leadership built a round circle at the center, a symmetrical road, so that the entry should be entirely modern, European, and issued an order, that upon entering the city, it would be required to make a half-right turn the circle. Exit was to be made on the left. For a period of time, a policeman was stationed there, who controlled the movement and the vehicular traffic, and assuring that this regulation was observed. However, the peasants from the surrounding area did not abide by this ‘reform,’ and conducted themselves according to the old traditions – entering and leaving the city according to whatever pleased them to do. The ordinance became dysfunctional and abandoned; the paved road was dismantled, and chaos returned.
‘White Mekhl’[6]
This was the way my father, Yekhiel-Mekhl Schwartzberg הי”ד was called.
When the Nazis, may their name be erased, shot him, he was about 76 years old. His shooting, along with other thousands of Jews on Saturday, 24 Nisan (?) 5702 is almost entirely described in Mordechai Shtringler's[7] book, ‘In an Alien Generation.’ Both my father and myself are mentioned in the poem (even if not specifically so).
‘White Mekhl’ was something else in Zamość, he was a slice of history in Jewish Zamość…
He was called ‘White Mekhl,’ because he had yellow-blond, white hair, and a totally white face. He was the exact opposite of my dark swarthy mother, ע”ה. She died in 1929 at the age of 64. She was a strong woman, and a pious one, but she didn't have a single good day in her unfortunate life… but she never complained.
For a long time, my father was also called ‘Mekhl the Application Preparer.’[8] On the table, by him, there always lay the thick volume of ‘Свод Законов’ (The Laws of Czarist Russia), the Code Napoléon in Russian. He knew all the chapters, paragraphs and points by heart, as well as the amendments of these statues. For an application, my father charged from 10-30 kopecks, depending on the ability of the client to pay.
He wrote ‘applications’ for Jews and non-Jews; people would come to him from the surrounding towns and villages. He would also draw up contracts. There were those who wanted these drawn up in the Holy Tongue, others in Polish or Russian. He knew these languages.
He was an educated Jewish man. He knew the entire Tanakh, practically by heart. He was familiar with many commentaries, Ibn-Ezra, Rada”k, and others. He had a reputation in Zamość and the vicinity as a renown Ibn-Ezra scholar. He had a counterpart – in regards to Ibn-Ezra – only a certain Fishel Zederbaum. The latter committed suicide at the outbreak of the First World War. That made a very deep impression on us in Zamość. My father had an interest in literary news in the Jewish world. He had the full year volumes of ‘Восход’ bound (The Yiddish-Russian Periodical).
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He was also well-known in the city as a chess-player; he also knew mathematics; he involved himself in philosophical hairsplitting; ‘Dudel Voveh's’ (Geliebter's) children, and other students of the high schools would come out of the Altstadt to the Neustadt in order to converse with my father; asking him their ‘questions and answers.’
I can recall two occasions on which he organized a siyyum of the Shas. My mother prepared a feast; Hasidim came – Radziner, and others – Yankeleh Farbiazh, Zavikhoster Rav, the son-in-law of the Rabbi of the Neustadt, who got involved in an intense casuistic dialogue with my father at that occasion. Copies of the Zohar were riffled, and also other books of the Kabbalah. My father was considered to be an accomplished Kabbalist. He would especially delve into the Kabbalah texts later in the evening, or before dawn. On his table, one could always find ‘Pitkhei Khokhma,’ ‘Pri Etz Chaim,’ and others from the Rakhma”l (Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzato), from the Ari za”l (Rabbi Isaac Luria, The ‘Lion’ of Safed). And nearby was ‘The Guide to the Perplexed,’ by Maimonides, and the Kuzari of Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi.
I made an attempt – later, when I was older – to emulate my father, by studying these books, but it didn't work out, barely crawling through ‘Kuzari.’ The same for ‘Hovat HaLevavot;’ ‘Bekhinot Olam’ – the latter, I am still perplexed about to this day.
My father also read a great deal by Peretz. He wanted to understand him in a fundamental way. He would say quite often: – ‘An apostate, he believes in nothing….’
Until after the First World War, my father spoke very infrequently, literally only an occasional word. When I once posed a question to him: – ‘What does Peretz mean with [his work] ‘Dos Glezel?’’ – he barely brought himself to murmur – ‘Hush….it is clear that he is talking about That Other Person (Jesus).’
‘– A brilliant writer, father,’ I try to extend the conversation that just started, ‘it is something novel that the government hasn't sent him off in chains.’
He replies: – ‘Bah, who says you have to understand him? The ‘street’ doesn't understand, to them it is a simple story…’
From my conversation with my father I saw that he understood Peretz very well, but he took the position that he should not be read – maybe he should be read by those who think of it as ‘a simple story.’
During the 30's I said to him – ‘Father, if I had half of your knowledge, I would have accomplished a great deal more than you.’
‘Oh, foolishness, he says, nonsense, you would have stuck with Peretz that believer in all things, and also would have become an apostate.’
This was a reference to an incident that took place several decades before. In the year 1911 and 1912 I was in Warsaw. I had gone to see I. L. Peretz with the compositions that I had written – ‘writings’ and ‘poems.’ [I was looking] for his ‘endorsement.’ Hillel Zeitlin, Dr. G. Levin, and especially Yaakov Dinensohn, did this as well. Having over-extended myself, I write to my father to ask him to send me a ruble or a ruble and a half a week, and I will be able to ‘sustain myself’ in Warsaw. I was earning a little bit from [giving] lectures. He did not agree to this. He revealed his assessment at that time to me later – ‘You would have remained there with that believer in all things…’
So I came home; I became a teacher. After the wedding – six months before the First World War – I became teacher, that is to say, a ‘modern’ one. It remained this way until the day of [the outbreak of] the Second World War.
Let us also relate that, in addition to my teaching, unofficially and in secret, I took up discounting and dealing in bills. I made a large sum of money, in any case, significantly more that people thought I was worth…
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During the First World War, our father, along with the entire family: mother, older sister Chaya, two brothers Daniel and Moshe – went away to Russia. From the end of 1914 (or the beginning of 1915) to the summer of 1918. They were in Minsk, in White Russia.
They returned in the time of Elul, and without exaggeration, I did not recognize my father. He had become severely drawn, instead of being blond, white and gray. He was wearing a different kind of hat, and the important thing, he had gotten a tongue – he spoke! He responded to everything, and I also felt – he maybe talked a little too much….
He came back broken, impoverished, and he took up doing whatever was at hand. For a while he was the treasurer at Geliebter's, a Zamość resident with a beer brewery in Janów-Lubliner. He worked for starvation wages. In the end, he became a teacher…
His verbosity drove him to his new profession. But he never abandoned the hope that the world will right itself, and he will once again engage in commerce…
He saved groschen on groschen, and put it into a ‘secure place…’ with Rav Chaim Rok, ז”ל…indeed for legitimate purposes…until Chaim Rok made a ‘venture,’. And once again he bean to dream…he immersed himself in his Kabbalah books, and the ‘worlds;’ ‘numerologies;’ ‘creations’ – seeking an answer there for his derailed and tortured life.
And, in this fashion, having become a ‘speaker,’ he left a trail of maxims behind him in our Zamość – mostly angry, rather sharp. Nevertheless, the public used to repeat it, and to this day it gets repeated. Here is a summary of his maxims:
A friend – If someone hears that, for example, you have earned some money, and it doesn't totally skewer him through and through, such a person is already a good friend;
In praising someone: he is such and such – a giver of charity, someone who takes in guests, a completely righteous man. It is possible that he has a high opinion of that person. [However] he is far from being such a person. No matter what the situation is, you can be assured that he is no lout, or is already certainly no bad person;
Someone is being flattered, praised, compliments are said in front of them to their face. I know this to be flattery. I very much dislike such a person. It grates on me – however, it isn't possible to give such a person a good slap;
Someone confronts me, jeers at me, maligns me. He then asks for my forgiveness. In any event, I am never going to be a friend to such a person;
If someone asks you a question, don't answer him – because for every answer that person will have 7 new questions again;
Modesty should be genuine and not contrived. A bit of ‘artificial’ modesty is already a gross form of pride;
Someone who is laid back, and not yet successful, people say of him: no wonder, he is just a plodder; like a fly in molasses; slow as a straw; a hapless person; [a miracle] if he bestirs himself; a shlimazl; a useless one; a bird made out of tin; slow to start; counts his steps; good-for-nothing; if one is lax, there is nothing to put in the mouth[9] – and so forth;
Someone prone to quickly fail in succeeding one says: a flutter head; a flyer, a spinner, so, he breaks his neck; an imposition; a calamity starting with his ever-loving name; a khaleria; all he has to do is jump; he never has time; no ability to stick to it; better a decision that regret [through inaction]; what's the hurry?
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About someone who succeeds with ease, people say: What else? – he was born stinking rich; puts his hand into his pocket 7 times before he takes out so much as a groschen; His will never get lost; wise beyond wisdom; don't you worry about him; he sleeps, and what is his, grows; he thinks over carefully before he does anything; not impulsive; not forthcoming;
Is someone is successful, and quick to achieve success, one says: you want to carry on with him?; he gets up while God is still sleeping; you think, and he does; a firebrand of a man; you have a plan, and he has done it already; in his hands, garbage turns to gold; it [e.g. success] happens in his home directly; as the Lord will it, so are the ways for a man – and so forth.
With his own deportment; with his aphorisms, ‘White Mekhl’ was a mirror of an entire generation of Zamość. Together with the entire congregation of Zamość, he was sent to death at the hands of the Unclean Ones – may his memory never be forgotten.
Rabbi Gaon R' Moshe'leh Epstein עצ”ל
[He was] the head of the Epstein family in Zamość. For many years, he was the Rabbi of the Neustadt. He is also recalled by I. L. Peretz. His name reverberated far and wide, throughout the width of Poland and even beyond.
Rabbi Moshe'leh was a legend even in his own lifetime, and wondrous and miraculous deeds were attributed to him. He personally would not accept this, and all his ‘wondrous deeds’ he attempted to explain by means of natural phenomena, as ordinary natural occurrences. Despite this, Jews did not cease to speak about his miracles. Regrettably, I do not know of any additional biographic details about him.
It is told of him:
Once in Zamość, a difficult question came up, in which the Zamość congregation found itself unable to come up with an approach, and sent a delegation of scholars and important people to Lemberg, to obtain the answer to this question, and bring it back with them. The Rabbi of Lemberg became very aggravated and with great disappointment he ordered the Zamość congregation as follows: Can it be? Has something like this ever been heard? Where was this ever heard before? You have, in your possession such a Rabbi, a Gaon, such as Rabbi Moshe'leh Epstein שליט”א, and you send a delegation to me to ask me questions? Go home in peace, and however he tells you to act, that is what you will do.
A further story, interwoven with a miracle, is told:
A false accusation was made once in Zamość, and it came to the point where, God forbid, there was a risk that a number of prominent Jewish leaders might be executed. It smelled like a genuine mortal danger.
It was thought that a delegation of ombudsmen should be sent to Petersburg. As it happened, a member of the royal family, a very highly-placed person, came to Zamość. Perhaps he had come in connection with this specific accusation? It was then decided that the most presentable and the best of the community of Zamość will approach this great Lord with a delegation, and beseech him in connection with this matter. R' Moshe'leh Epstein stood at the head of this delegation. When they drew near to his door, and the doorman went within to explain about the visit, the result came out that he didn't want this entire ‘rabble’ in his house, and that only one of them should be sent in, whomever they desire. So, R' Moshe'leh Epstein went in. However, he emerged very quickly, greatly shaken and very saddened.
–Fellow Jews – he said – it is bad; Fellow Jews, it is bitter. We require mercy! May the Eternal One in heaven have mercy upon us. He did not even want to hear me out, the tyrant. He disparaged me, and told me to leave! Only God, Blessed be He, can help!
The guest from Petersburg finished eating the good midday repast; washed down with a good bottle of wine, and made an appointment with a local artist to come back in a few hours to make a portrait of him, together with
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the seniors of the Zamość garrison. Later, when the artist arrived, the door was found to be closed up. They waited until the door was broken down. The guest was found dead in his bed… all of Zamość was bubbling with this. – – – the decree was annulled.
The Jewish indeed wanted to construe this to have been a miracle. However, R' Moshe'leh Epstein gave a simple explanation, that relied on simple natural means – that this man, the tyrant, gorged himself on too much food, and after ‘swilling’ himself full with wine, along with a little bit of help from above, had an unfortunate attack. It is simply natural, and no miracle…
I, the writer of these lines, knew only his grandchildren. They were all called ‘The Epsteins.’
One of them, Elyeh Epstein, a very wealthy Jew, lived very nicely (all the Epsteins had their own houses ‘stone houses, with chimneys’ in the Altstadt); He had his own brick making factory and a beer brewery outside of the city. He was a Dozor of the Zamość community and a well-known public servant. He would come to the Neustadt quite often to [confer with] Rabbi Mordechai HaLevi Hurwitz-Sternfeld about community and municipal matters. During the last war, he was hidden by Christians. For this, it is told, that he paid a small fortune, in ready gold. He had the appearance of a non-Jew, with a Christian face, and genuine Polish aristocratic whiskers. His command of the Polish language was perfect.
His younger brother, Moshe Epstein (indeed, named for his grandfather), occupied the important position of Zamość Magistrate for many years. It was said that ‘the Epsteins know their Polish better than genuine Poles.’ Moshe also had a Polish ethnic appearance. He remained a lifelong bachelor, having never married.
The third brother was Shlomo Epstein. He had his own business, a ‘Pharmacy.’ – a portion of the Potchineh in Zamość, from what we gather, as part of his house.
I do not know the fate of the brothers Moshe and Shlomo Epstein. After the Second World War, Elyeh returned to Zamość. However, he didn't remain there for very long, and moved to Lodz.
The Hevra-Kadisha in our Neustadt, would annually commemorate and recall the Yahrzeit of Rabbi Moshe'leh Epstein's passing – 2 Ellul.
“The Bent Little Jew”
If we are speaking of the Hevra-Kadisha, then we must recollect one of its principal champions, who was popular with us by the nickname ‘The Bent Little Jew.’ I do not know why he was specifically called ‘bent,’ because this Yehuda, was a Jewish man who was a tailor, not young anymore, but rather a tall, straight, and solidly built person, with a very sure stride. He had a handsome beard, and was a pleasing countenance to behold. He was from the plain folk, and when I remember him, he was about 70 years old. [By then with] a white beard, lively and bright eyes, reddish cheeks, and often a bit sozzled (inebriated).
– Ssh… Whiskey – he would say – whiskey ‘captures the heart;’ ‘it lightens the blood;’ ‘whiskey is good for regulating the bowel;’ ‘gives appetite;’ And after all of these virtues, why, indeed, should he not love to have a small glass?
Indeed, for the Hevra-Kadisha, he was the one who always provided ‘beverage.’ After all, who was a better maven than him?
He always wore a hat, and a rather large one at that. A couple of sizes bigger than he needed. He would go about wrapped around in a gartel, whether it was a weekday, on the Sabbath, festivals, at all times, day and night.
As previously said, he was a tailor, but I do not remember him engaged in this trade. However, because of this, his ‘specialty’ was – burial shrouds. ‘That’ nobody approached, nobody dared get close to that process, this was his franchise, he, ‘the cockeyed Jew,’ had to carry out that obligation. And he set the price. And he set those prices in a
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manner that was correct and just. He would take more from someone who was rich, and from the needy – less, in accordance with his estimate.
– Reb Yudel, he would be asked, why such a large hat?
– That's as it should be.
– Reb Yudel, why always with a gartel?
– That's as it should be.
On the occasion of R' Moshe'leh's Yahrzeit, 2 Ellul, Reb Yudel provided everything. The Hevra-Kadisha trusted him with everything; he will take care that everything is done as it should be.
And he would get us together, the young people in the Hevra, setting us out in a ‘circle,’ – he in the middle, and he gave the order:
-Nu, khevreh, let us sing, loudly! Open your mouths! Hevra youngsters! (I was then about 8-9 years old). And he would begin:
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And all believe –
We serve God alone,
Yes, let us serve God, only without troubles,
And all believe –
We serve God alone,
Yes, let us serve God from great satisfaction.
And all believe –
We serve God alone,
Yes, we will serve not like some mindless creature
And all believe –
We serve God alone,
Yes, we will serve God. It's the appropriate thing, |
To this day I remember the refrain; here he stands before my eyes, and directs like a choirmaster. The singing was sugar-sweet, and to this day, I feel the sweetness of it.
Rabbi Mordechai HaLevi ז”ל
On the stamps and signatures of our Neustadt Rabbi, Rabbi Mordechai HaLevi his full name was engraved in its entirety: ‘Mordechai HaLevi Hurwitz, designated Sternfeld, Resident Here, the Sacred Congregation of the New City of Zamość.’ Our Rabbi took pride in his relationship both to the Rabbi of Lublin, called the Khozeh (a number
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of his grandchildren were in fact named for the Khozeh – Yaakov-Yitzhak)[10], as well as the ‘Head of Iron,’ the analytical Mitnaged, Rabbi Gaon Ezriel Hurwitz.[11]
The house of our Rabbi (in the domicile of Mendel Hackman – ‘Carpenter’) consisted of a gated-residence, three rooms with a kitchen; apart from this, a very substantive ‘Bet-Din’ room and a permanent year-round sukkah. In the front ‘Bet-Din’ part of the house (called the ‘Bezin’ by the people), apart from a table with benches and desks, there was also a bookcase with books. I had not seen that many books except in the Bet HaMedrash. Not only I, but whoever entered marveled at this noteworthy library, where the oldest of the responsas could be found , and also the research books of Rashba”tz, Rashb”a, and many very rare works. Also noteworthy – there was even a catalogue, and every book was in its place. Whatever one searched for, was easily found. Current authors sent him their works. This was because our Rabbi was widely known, also beyond the borders of Russia and Poland.
He was a uniquely wise man, perceptive both in abstract matters and in practical issues. He spoke a fine Russian, and also read and wrote this language. However, the act of composing even a few written lines was difficult for our Rabbi, and even composing a letter in the Holy Tongue did not come easily to him.
When, in the year 1894, I. L. Peretz toured the region around Tomaszów, which he descried in his ‘Travel Portraits,’ he visited Zamość, even though the city was not on his itinerary, and first of all paid a visit to our Rabbi, whom he held in high regard, when I. L. Peretz used to meet people from Zamość, the first thing he would do is ask about the well-being of the Rabbi of the Neustadt.
I did not know all of his children. By the time I would come to his home, he already had married daughters from his first wife. His younger son, Mendel, my friend, a very smart and talented young man, was an active Bundist. He had a very good head, but also, like his father, was plagued with difficulty in taking up the quill. For a period of time, we were student with the well known Zamość teacher Rabbi Chaim Rosenblum from Brisk. The teacher would praise Mendel: ‘A smart youngster, fast, understands everything very well, only writing is a frustration, by the time he manages to scratch out a quarter of a page in his notebook, others can write 3-4 full pages.’
As previously mentioned, Mendel was drawn into the Bundist movement, to which he became committed heart and soul, but you must appreciate that this was done clandestinely – imagine what it would have meant, the Rabbi's own son….when at a specific moment, during the revolutionary year of 1905, when a danger arose that the secret police might discover the secret library of the Bund, Mendel transferred the books from this library into his house and hid them in the attic. During that summer, the Russian Gendarmerie carried out an inspection of the Rabbi's house, and actually arrested Mendel. After that, other members of the movement were also arrested. They were incarcerated in the prison at Janowicz. On Rosh Hashana, together with the Rabbi's older son, Yossel'eh, and another friend, I went off to give a ‘package’ to Mendel in jail, and it happened that we were able to hear a variety of complaints, can it be possible – the son of a Rabbi is a revolutionary….
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After his release, Mendel did not remain in Zamość for very long, he emigrated to America.
The previously mentioned son of the Rabbi, the first-born, Yossel'eh, was also quite talented, being possessed of all virtues – handsome, intelligent and educated, both in the Talmud and commentaries, as well in world literature. He played the violin, and had a talent for wood-carving. He was one of the first who took part in the installation of the electrical network in Zamość.
I would come to the house of the our Rabbi, even if it was not often. Ever such occasion was a genuine pleasure, and one would always become informed about something, or learn something. In general, there were many people who came to the Rabbi for a ‘period of visitation.’ I remember the brothers, R' Mordechai and R' Chaim Rok; R' Jonah Worim; R' Chaim-Leib Blum; R' Zisha Finkelstein, R' Hona Edelberg, and many others.
If the postman, a Christian, had a letter or a telegram, and didn't know the correct address, or didn't know to whom it was addressed, he brought it to the Rabbi – the Rabbin knew everything.
There was a custom in Zamość (from the time when Zamość did not yet have a printing press), that when it came time to pay taxes to the Magistrate, or on the occasion of the ‘exceptional’ instances when someone may have lost a cow, a dog, or some such thing, the person who suffered the loss paid the Magistrate a set fee and the Magistrate sent out an announcement, a notice about the matter. There was a diminutive, short little gentile, with a big drum – the drum was always bigger than the drummer – and this Magistrate-gentile would go through the streets, and beat his drum. When a group of people would gather (most of the time the ones who gathered together were children, or just plain idlers), the drummer would stop, and would announce and inform the gathering about the matter at hand in Polish: about the last date for the payment of taxe4s, or about the lost property, providing the signs by which the lost property could be identified, and with a plea to have it returned to the Magistrate. Sometimes, the ‘honest’ finder was promised some kind of reward. After completing the drumming march through the street, the drummer would come to the Rabbi and describe the matter to him separately. This was to enlist his help. And very often, the Rabbi's help had more utility than the notification by the drummer…
Our Rabbi was a great distributor of charity, a very good person, literally in a class by himself. His home was always open to guests, for travelers passing through, and local people. He would not spare the rich a dressing down about their obligation to give charity. A famous saying of his was: ‘The wealthy give charity with their mouths, and they kiss the Torah with their hand. It should be the opposite….’
When the balebatim would go out to canvass the houses for donations, they would bring these monies to the Rabbi, there, a distribution was devised for the needy. If it happened that there was a shortfall – there were more needy than the raised sum, the Rabbi would ‘borrow’ from his own fund. He would sometime ‘record’ this debt in a little book…he was never repaid for this.
His perceptive aphorisms were known widely. Some of these words I heard from I. L. Peretz. Who got more pleasure from this, I cannot guarantee.
Here are some of the Rabbi's ‘noble’ sayings:
‘Take a whack, and split your own head’ (from ‘Shkotzim have come into the Heder’);
‘It is not my fault that the entire world is a night club;’
‘When a little candle burns out, it is not lost, and me and my common sense does?’
He would say:
A Rabbi who is arrogant is indeed no good, and is not nice; however, one must also know the measure of modesty. How would it look if the Rabbi stood and tapped on his window and called in passers by: be so kind, Yankel the Porter, or Water Carrier, make the effort, come inside to me here, perhaps you will help me adjudicate a question, this does not
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constitute modesty… to adjudicate a question is the province of the Rabbi, not the province of Yankel the Water Carrier…
A common expression is: ‘He loves her to the point of danger,’ This is false – because he really loves himself.
There are certain very observant people who, were it not for the World to Come (where they will obtain a reward), would be quite content to establish that everyone should die in this world from hunger…
He could not stand all manner of simple statements, circuitous reasoning, casuistry and the like.
Nachman Rot, my father's brother-in-law, dealt in dairy products, with hay and oats, with kerosine and tar, and was a pauper in life, beset with the care of many children. His wife, Dvora, my father's sister, was a fiercely observant Jewish woman, and would constantly beset the Rabbi with all manner of ‘shylehs,’ involving such minutiae that really did not constitute a ‘question’ in the first place. The Rabbi would always hear her out, and then he ruled, ‘kosher,’ or ‘treyf.’ On one occasion, the Rabbi was inspecting such a ‘shyleh,’ in a goose, and he ruled ‘kosher.’ Dvora took the goose, and remained standing there. The Rabbi then asked her why she was still standing there. She replied – I am of the opinion…that is, I mean… something is not right here…not as it should be…the Rabbi, now somewhat upset, said to her sharply: With me, as the Rabbi, there is ‘kosher’ or ‘treyf.’ I am not familiar with such things as ‘not right…’ ‘not the way it should be…’
In the year 1920, when the General, Bulak-Balachowicz, who was known for his assaults and murders in Jewish cities and towns, paid a visit to Zamość, 6 Jews were killed in the Neustadt at that time, and a portion died afterwards from their wounds. The Rabbi eulogized them in the Bet HaMedrash. There was a small audience, because it was literally dangerous to go out from one's house. He, however, paid no attention to this. During the eulogy, he wept plaintively. Among other things, he said: among the dead, there are ones who are called ‘free-[thinkers]’ – but all of them are martyrs, and they were killed only because they were Jews, and they are martyrs, and have earned their place in the World to Come….
He made himself famous for his concern for Jewish soldiers, who would serve in the Zamość garrison (originally in Czarist times, and later already in independent Poland). He would work out endless privileges for the Jewish recruits, free time during [Jewish] holidays. His house was always full of Jewish recruits during the Festivals. He was literally a father to them. It was here that they gathered together, spent time, and sang.
He stood in contact not only with the leading scholars and Rabbis of Jewry, Gaonim, but also with the representatives of the Jewish community in general, famous lawyers such as Schlossberg, Gruzenberg, Winawer, Professor Mandelstam from Kiev, and others – would correspond with him about Jewish community issues.
He was also beloved by the non-Jewish populace. In the Neustadt, by us, there was a Christian woman, a Pole, Kaszka, who was called ‘the Matriarch of the Thieves.’ She spoke Yiddish with a completely correct Yiddish accent. She would often work in Jewish homes, and would give ‘direction,’ insisting that a ‘blessing’ be said, and that ‘Modeh Ani’ be recited – ‘say the blessing’ – she would insist – otherwise, you will grow up to be a goy.’ Her refrain was well-known: ‘Our Rabbi, ma he live and be well, a complete Tzaddik; 10 goyim can be his redemption…’ ‘Kaszkeh the mameh of the thieves,’ dealt with the criminal element, of which we had a lot. She would provision them on the outside. For the sake of the truth – they did little ‘work’ in the local area.
In the final years, the Rabbi was deeply loved by all. However, over 50 years before, he needed to endure a spate of bloodletting because of a dispute that spread all over. I remember it quite well, even though it took place in the year 1903. This dispute was accurately written up in the HaTzefira of 5663 [1903]. The Rabbi was embarrassed, threatened, and maligned. It deteriorated to the point of distasteful deeds. Very often, his windows were broken. On a Friday evening, people would shout into his window: ‘Mottel'eh, take off your fur hat (shtrymel), an ill wind in your ….’ and other such epithets.
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I remember at one time, three men came to us with a sheaf of paper, where on the top, there were Russian letters written out in calligraphy, indicating that the undersigned request that the authorities to drive the Rabbi out of the city. My father and grandfather signed this ‘letter,’ out of fear. They could be certain that if they hadn't done so, that someone would have stuck a knife in their side, or set their house on fire. I knew one of these three signature solicitors, he was a ‘perpetrator’ of robbery, a member of the underworld. A certain rich young man, who was on the Rabbi's side, had his own little coach, and so on the second day of Passover, they poisoned his horse, and cut up the little coach. The previously mentioned underworld figure had the audacity to brag: ‘Ha, ha, ha, Y. K– l horses ate some shmura matzo that we gave them, and it affected them badly’…. a second Jew, also on the Rabbi's side, was dragged into a house and his gold watch and chain was stripped from him. Along with this, he was told: ‘for the time being, you'll do without this.’ Those who were around were warned: ‘Idiots, if it should happen that one of you should speak even a word about this, sooner or later, you are going to be slaughtered…’ A third person had his head split open with a cleaver.
I do not recall how long this dispute went on. I do, however, remember the end of it. In the summer of 5663 [1903] a Bet-Din of three Rabbis was convened, one of them was Rabbi Nahum the Rabbi of Krasnobrod, the prior Rabbis of Radzyn, a brother-in-law of Rabbi Mordechai. The trial lasted several days. During the time of the trial, the city was quiet.
It is interesting to relate that the principal leaders of the dispute against the Rabbi died a year or two after the trial; they passed away from this world at quite a young age.
The principal leader of the protagonists, a young man in his 30's, a scholar and educated person, was the first to die. A second one, who drove a wagon, died almost immediately. He left behind a wife and young orphans. The Rabbi involved himself rather intensely with these little orphans. One, he took to his table for Sabbaths, and also occasionally during the middle of the week, giving him clothing and small change.
He would always go to the funerals of his protagonists, taking no heed of the concept of revenge, anger or resentment.
The Rabbi was killed in the Second World War, during the reign of the Nazis. Many versions of his demise are told, however, it is known that he held his morale high, and maintained an impact.
The following fact is related in the name of the Bund activist Yerakhmiel Brandwein (killed in the Maniewicz Ghetto):
Immediately in the first days of the Polish-German War, in September 1939, Zamość was bombed, and a number of Jews were killed in the bombing, among them also the brother of Yerakhmiel Brandwein. Because of the continuous air raid alarms, the Hevra-Kadisha was not functioning, and the dead lay for a couple of days and were not interred according to Jewish law. It was only two days later, that the Hevra-Kadisha, under the direction of the Neustadt Rabbi Mordechai Hurwitz, came close to attend the dead. In the meantime, night fell, and the members of the Hevra-Kadisha decided to finish the burial in the morning, because it was dangerous to be about at night. It was here that Rabbi Hurwitz approached the members of the Hevra-Kadisha with the following words:
‘Rabbotai, so long as there are still balebatim in my city, where I am the Rabbi for 50 years already, that have not yet been given a proper Jewish burial, I place you under a Rabbinical Decree that no one may leave, even if the burial process takes the entire night, no one will go home. We are not certain, that we will be able to come here in the morning. And in consideration, for doing that last good deed for our beloved martyrs, we will be permitted to return home in peace, because those who are appointed to go and do a mitzvah, are spared any harm.’
His words were effective, and everyone remained behind, and indeed, carried out the interment.
There is no one left from Zamość – from all of its sections – who has remained alive, who would not recall the name of this wonderful man with love, respect and sadness.
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| Abraham-Moshe Tzitzman ‘Koval’ and his wife, Pessel Tzitzman. Both were killed during the time of the Nazi occupation. He ‘in the normal course of events,’ and she, during an ‘aktion.’ |
His family name was Tzitzman; to the extent that I know, he was never a blacksmith [Koval[12]]; one son of his, Baruch, had a house in the Neustadt, and was indeed a smith.
I am not aware of what Reb Moshe Koval did during his youth, but since the time I remember him, he was a teacher. He taught a variety of subjects to children – from the basic alphabet through Gemara, inclusively.
He was tall, lean; he stood straight, with a firm, certain step. There was a time when he went about on crutches, but this was not for long, he quickly ‘came to himself,’ and once again went about his business – teaching, with a firm and skillful hand.
When he came to me as help in my Heder, he was already past his sixties. That was during Hol HaMoed Sukkot of 5684 (1924), I had ‘taken him’ from a village, where he taught. He willingly left the village for the city, to be among people and Jews.
He worked out a condition with me – if it should happen that he misses a day, that he could not come to teach – it was winter, and he was an elderly person – that he should not be docked pay for these days; he will come every day before 9 and leave before 1 (Friday before 11); for the month of Nissan, even though we learned for only a half of the month, he wanted to be paid for the entire month. I accepted these terms. It impressed me greatly: Reb Moshe Koval is my assistant! But this didn't last very long – it only lasted a couple of weeks. They came from the village, paid him a much greater price and Reb Moshe went back to the village.
We conversed very little during the few weeks that he was with me. He was no foolish Jew, understood people and was well versed in the ways of the world and the expressions of the common people.
What I know to tell about Reb Moshe Koval is this, it is what I remember, and from the stories that I heard from my grandfather and others.
Reb Moshe owned a vale with a wooden house and stalls that had rooms, nearby the Lublin Gate. He was the third or fourth generation of that first settler, who perhaps was also named Moshe. That [first one] indeed, was a blacksmith.
This was before the partition of Poland, before the land was divided among the onetime great powers – Russia, Prussia, and Austria. During one period of war, the great-great-grandfather of Moshe Koval was the only smith and was inundated with work – at every moment, someone else came to him and asked him to discharge some specific work for the military.
On a certain morning, at the time when the smith was standing with his 2 assistants and was working, a person came running, apparently from the senior military, and yells:
– Jew, come rescue us quickly… hide me, I am lost!……
The smith ran quickly from his place into the house, brought out a package with old, filthy clothes belonging to a smith, and ordered the arrival to quickly take off his clothes and put on the outfit of the smith and to stand himself near the
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bellows. The latter did so with lightning speed. He is already standing, smeared with soot by the fire, and he is banging away with a hammer. The master took the military clothing, and threw it into a nearby room, covering them with a coat. All this was accomplished in the blink of an eye. The smith was standing with his newly-acquired ‘help’ at work, as if nothing had happened.
A little while later, other military people came running, panting, sweating, with a shout:
– One or more of the enemy have entered your place, seeking to hide, say quickly where they are. Say it, quickly! If not, we'll cut your head off immediately!
– My very dear sirs – the smith says in very subdued tones, – I have seen no one here. I am standing here with my assistants since early in the day. It is very hard, very hard for us. Nobody wants to know about anything. Everyone arrives with the complaint: do it quickly, immediately! We are standing here since the early hours of the morning and not I, nor anybody else has seen anyone who is a stranger. On the contrary, feel free to look around.
The arrivals looked around quite thoroughly. Searched the yard well, in the rooms, stalls, and the house, in all the corners, found nothing, and went away.
The war ended shortly thereafter. It appeared as if this entire episode would be forgotten. However, in about a year, possibly longer, papers came to the Jewish smith in Zamość from the government, that he should come to Warsaw (or possibly even all the way to Petersburg!) The Jew is terrified, but he makes the journey.
There he was well received, questioned in an appropriate fashion, about that incident, recorded it, and told him to go home, to Zamość. It did not take long, and papers arrive for the smith from the same high position, stamped and signed [to the effect] that the entire vale, the yard, the forge, the house with all its rooms, and everything that is found there – that all of this belongs to him, the Jewish smith, to him and to his children, children's children, to the end of generations.
The house in the vale became old; the of was overgrown with grass, and the same for the other buildings, but they stood up. When the writer of these lines visited this house, it was ‘supported,’ held up with blocks, wooden boards, pasting and iron supports. The windows and doors were patched, supported and very unsteady, shaking, but holding up. Reb Moshe Koval lived there with a daughter and son-in-law (he was grindstone operator) and children. Nobody complained; indeed, it was not in order, with many shortcomings, but nevertheless one's own little corner of the world.
I approached Reb Moshe to inquire about details, about him, about the vale, about the stories about his grandfather or great-grandfather, the smith, but I did not succeed. He said to me:
– You know, Shlomo, I am a teacher for more than 100 semesters (there were two semesters per year); among my pupils there were Avigdor Inlander (a well-known Zamość magnate, a millionaire, as it was thought he was worth), and other well-known rich people (he called out familiar names of people who then were already big-time balebatim of the city), who either themselves, or their children, and even grandchildren, were my pupils, studying by me. And why? They don't even recognize me, they treat me as a stranger….
When Poland became a free independent country – after the First World War – with 16-17 districts, with a Sejm, a city council, Sejm deputies, etc., our city of Zamość obtained a city council with 24 elected councilmen. No matter what the Poles tried to be clever about, and no matter what they did – adding many nearby villages to the city in order to achieve a Polish majority, during the elections, 16-17 Jewish councilmen were elected. Except the Jews, ‘in order not to inflame The Nobleman’ would rationalize the representation – half and half, 12 Jews and 12 Poles. The City Elder was always a Pole.
And a new King arose. Anti-Semitism grew vigorously, and a new City Elder arrived, who started to implement a burden called ‘urbanism.’
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Essentially it meant that the city was going to be beautified – and he came out with the wise word: ‘that we have to get rid of the animals, and therefore we have to chop down the forest.’ So first, he ordered that the chestnut trees be cut down and the benches – so this way we will get rid of the vermin the ‘valutazhehs’ – they will have no place (in the small orchards) where to assemble.
Later, he ordered all the balconies facing the streets to be taken down… and another array of ‘civilizing’ measures, which happened for a variety of local relationships to affect the Jews.
A new City Elder came along, there were new decrees, until one day, the Polish authorities decide – the Magistrate, the city council, with the City Elder at its head – that the whole situation with Moshe Koval is not the way it should be. A Jewish family, Tzitzman, Moshe Koval and his family are luxuriously ensconced on Polish soil; eat Polish bread; they live in and occupy so much space, and it cost them not so much as a groschen of money… How can this be? Where has this ever been heard of before?
Very quickly, a document comes to Moshe Koval, an order from the authorities: Moshe Tzitzman, as a person, must vacate the place and turn over everything to the ‘city.’ The best that can be done for him, is that he will be given a residence and financial support.
Moshe Koval found himself seriously beleaguered, but he did not remain silent, he wrote, filed papers, dredged up the old story, the story with his great-great-grandfather. Moshe did not succumb easily. Paper after paper; on the one side, the city demanded that he ‘vacate’ the vale, and he sent lawyers to Lublin, to Warsaw. The matter reached the highest courts.
In the meantime, the events were overtaken by the Second World War.
I do not know how Moshe Koval died. I remember only, that about 18-19 years ago, in the 30's, he still went about with his firm step, and the public joked that the Angel of Death had forgotten him – he had to have been a hundred years old… in mentioning his age, people no longer added ‘no evil eye intended’ – it was natural.
Moshe Dichter
Moshe Dichter (Jews would pronounce it Dechter) had his own single story house, stone walls made of red brick and with red roof shingles, right in the front, to the right after the ‘Heyfl.’ There was a substantial yard next to the house, with residences, stalls, rooms. The really pretty thing was his ‘Hotel Warshowski’ with its numbering…it would appear, that this was a house that was inherited. He, Moshe Dichter himself, would often spend time on the large bench in front of his house – sometime with companions, and often alone.
When, as a child, I saw him for the first time, he made a peculiar impression on me: … a Jew, ruddy, healthy, solid, walks like a Cossack. His red face was entirely rosy, black sparkling eyes, a reddish leather jacket, red leather trousers… a straw hat with two brims (I couldn't understand this: two brims? A Jew is dressed like this) in officer's boots with a riding crop, I once said a small whip, a whip stick in hand…that he was Jewish I heard from people. Most of the time, he spoke Russian, but I once heard him speaking in Yiddish with Jews.
Stories about him were told without end, and peculiar ones at that, which were not comprehensible. I used to sneak in among older Jewish people and snatch bits of their stories about him and his antics.
His name, Dichter, was used infrequently in direct discourse with him. Firstly, he was called ‘Moshe Cossack,’ ‘Fonyak,’ ‘Katzap,’ ‘Moshe Goy,’ and other names. But what was mostly caused me wonder, was what Jews had to say:
– Hmm, a peculiar set of affairs, Moshe Fonyak, Katzap, eats trayf, swine flesh, has no knowledge of the Sabbath, of the Festivals, but loves Jews fiercely…
[Page 409]
I did not understand this, and what was of greater wonder, Jews said: – Moshe Cossack, Moshe Goy, is a….nationalistic Jew….
What is this, a nationalistic Jew that eats trayf foods,. swine flesh, doesn't pray, not on the Sabbath or Festivals, does not come to synagogue, not into the Bet HaMedrash, and a nationalistic Jew?… What sort of an individual is this, this nationalistic Jew?…
I was daring about this once, and stole nearby and asked what they meant by this. Well, I had a comeuppance: get away, you…one like you…also wants to know. It's entirely too soon, grow up first…get away, quickly… and I barely got away alive. In my mind, it continued to burn, what can it mean for someone like this to be ‘a nationalistic Jew?’….
He was not particularly well-to-do. True, he had a nice income from his house and ‘Hotel,’ but he was also a big spender. ‘Those folks’ – Magistrate, the authorities, officers and others, – he would say, cost him a pretty penney. A ruble – he would say – to me is like ‘naplievat,’ (I spit on it).
He sat on his bench, beside his house and an elderly Jew walks by, a mendicant, someone who begs from house-to-house. Dichter calls him over, tells him to sit down, and engages him in a conversation about a variety of subjects, until he comes to the question of how much he makes by going around from house-to-house.
– What do I know, the Jew responds, they give me about 60-70 kopecks apiece.
Moshe takes out a ruble or half again as much, gives it to the Jew, and says: – Listen here, my dear Jew, here you have a ruble (or more), so get going, on your way, out of the city. Until next year this time, I don't want my eyes to fall on you! Do you hear, out! Hydah! Begone. If you have the nerve to come back here before the year is up, it will cost you dearly.
The Jewish man thanked him, and left satisfied. And this is what he would do with a second, and a third. True, he didn't do this with all the beggars, and not often.
I do not remember when he died. He was not very old.
Moshe Cossack, Katzap, once sent for the Head Gabbai of the Zamość Hevra Kadisha, promised him several nice bags full of donations for the Hevra, and for him personally, that is to say the Gabbai himself, if he will release an announcement that he, Moshe Cossack, had suddenly died. That he should request that one should come to ‘do what is right by him.’ That the purification should be carried out, that he should be carried through the streets to the cemetery, and in front of him, collection boxes should be shaken, [with the refrain] ‘Charity Rescues from Death.’ All of this had to be done secretly. He wanted to know what sort of an impression his death would make on the people of Zamość….
Yohanan Morgenstern
When he came to study in my Heder, he was in his 12th year. His father, R' Shlomo-Chaim, a young Hasidic man, was a rich storekeeper that sold goods, promised me:
– Well, nu, I know that you are strict. Look away a bit. It can be a little more lenient… he'll learn, learn. He has an iron head…
He had no iron head, and no strong desire to learn. He was average. Iv had better pupils. Take a chapter of the prophet Isaiah, for example. To get him to memorize it, was accomplished with bitterness. Other boys, during the week, would manage 4-5 chapters before he would do one. That is why he loved to read, despite the fact that he was very young, and certainly did not understand everything that he read.
[Page 410]
For example, I arrive in the morning from prayers, not all of the children have arrived yet, Yohanan stands with his feet on the bench, and he is searching in my home library. The books are in disarray, and he is holding a book by Moshe Stavsky in his hands.
– Hey, – I inquire angrily, – what are you doing there?
He climbs down slightly rattled, – Oh, teacher – that is how I was called – ‘The Yellow Chicken,’ is so nice, so nice, I want to read it.
– And do you know the fourth chapter of Job yet?
– Tomorrow, teacher, I will know it tomorrow, I will definitely know it, entirely, you will see. Let me take this book home….
– I will tell your father.
– No, no, teacher, you don't have to tell him. I will learn everything. ‘The Yellow Chicken,’ is so pretty. Ha-Ha, the gentile woman with the expressions…and ‘Laban the Aramite,’….
When I told this once to his father, he answered me with a smile:
Nu, you have something to worry about now. You know, though – today's children. Well, nu, a concern. So he won't be a Rabbi……
Three years – 6 or 7 semesters – he studied with me. He was a Bar Mitzvah for quite some time already. He transferred to the ‘Heder Metukan,’ ‘Yavneh,’ in the Altstadt. He would come to see me, not often, for me to help him with his Hebrew lectures and Tanakh.
He was already a grown young man, a brunette with coal-black hair and handsome eyes. Later on, he joined the Tz. S. Party (right-wing Poalei Tzion), and became very active there. I often saw him carrying periodicals and books in his pockets, deeply engrossed, driven with little time. Girls would stare after him, seeking his acquaintance. From what I could see, he didn't pursue this.
Later, he became the editor of the Zamośćher Stimme. After that, he went to Warsaw, called by the central committee of the Poalei Tzion party. There, he becomes one of the liaisons, traveling around Poland, holding meetings.
He asked my help – that is how my pupil Yohanan stood, and I had a small part in this….in 1935 I was on a visit in Warsaw and I went to Genszow 14, where the seat of the central offices of the Poalei Tzion were located, trying to locate him. I was told – he was in the Plotsk District, traveling for meetings.
Later, he comes to Zamość from time-to-time; in 1938; during the municipal elections. He came especially, because, after all, this was his city. He always visited with me, and shared things with me, his teacher, about his work, talked about politics, discussed things, attempted to persuade one another.
Until…one discovers things about him in the Yizkor Books about martyrs and heroes. Yes, Yohanan, the good-hearted one, was very well suited for that role, that he carried out in the underground during the dark night of the Nazis.
He died the death of a martyr and a hero.
How I ache for you, my pupil, Yohanan!
[Page 411]
The grandson of Moshe Koval, Alexander Tzitzman (Buenos Aires) has provided the following clarifications and additions to the chapter ‘Moshe Koval’ in the work of Shlomo Schwartzberg:
The correct name for ‘Moshe Koval’ was Abraham Moshe.
Moshe's father-in-law, Gedaliah Meldung was a smith, who, by the way, was an uncle of Dr. Yitzhak Geliebter. Yitzhak Geliebter's mother was from the Meldung family.
The story about ‘rescuing a senior military official’ is indeed told about Moshe Koval's father and took place in Varoslawicz, which belonged to Graf Politila. It was told that when the nobleman would go to his palace, the entire way was spread over with sugar (the nobleman was the owner of many sugar refineries in the area), and this sugar would be gathered up by Moshe Koval's father Joseph, who was the groundskeeper, as a personal benefit.
In his youth, Moshe Koval was a student, and his father-in-law, Gedaliah, took him on as a father-in-law, and subsidized his studies.
The previously mentioned Gedaliah served in the Czar's Army and learned how to be a smith there. He was the smith for a garrison for the Czarist army divisions that were stationed in Zamość . He received title to the place and the buildings in the vale near the fortress for his good work.
About two years before the outbreak of the Second World War, these buildings were condemned by the authorities of the city, as part of an ‘urban renewal’ action.
He died during the time of the Nazi Occupation, and apparently was given a Jewish burial. His wife, Pessl, was killed during one of the Hitlerist slaughters of the Zamość community.
Translator's footnotes:
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