Where What When

When Zeidy and Bubby Were Young

How then to put into perspective their great grandparents’ role in the rebirth of Torah in Baltimore and beyond? To them, a spiritual giant is someone you read about in an ArtScroll biography. How can I show them the absolute spiritual heroism of their great ancestors?

This summer, on Shabbos parshas Matos, Feigi and I celebrated the bar mitzva of our oldest grandson, Yechezkel Dovid Lasson. On Sunday, we also celebrated the bat mitzva of our granddaughter, Rivka Fertig. They are named for Feigi’s parents Chester and Rosalyn Siegel, of blessed memory. In addition to these two, we have a daughter Rivka, and, between our children and those of Feigi’s only brother Chaim, there are others named Yechezkel and Rivka, bli ayin hara.

In conjunction with this double simcha, I thought it would be worthwhile to try to convey to all the Yechezkels and Rivkas something of the lives and times of the ones whose names they carry. I share it with the readers of the WWW, because there is something valuable to be learned for all of our lives. Trying to explain the “olden days” to a young person is not simple. These children probably don’t even know what a rotary dial telephone is or how to use carbon paper in a typewriter, so how can they understand the values and behaviors of a bygone era?

Not only that, but they have all grown up in communities where being mitzva observant and pursuing Torah learning are the norm. How then to put into perspective their great grandparents’ role in the rebirth of Torah in Baltimore and beyond? To them, a spiritual giant is someone you read about in an ArtScroll biography. How can I show them the absolute spiritual heroism of their great ancestors?

I decided to interview two couples that knew Chester and Rosalyn back in the 1930s and 1940s. There is, of course, much more to their lives, but I felt that speaking with people who have vivid memories of those times would help us all understand what it meant to be a frum Jew, especially a shomer Shabbos, in those bygone days. Chester and Rosalyn were by no means the only ones, and they operated within an organization, but in focusing on them I am also recalling the nisyonos, the challenges, all young Jews faced. The Siegels are exemplars of their lives and times.

* * *

Matthew Bennett is one of the elders of Shomrei Emunah. One day, he told me in conversation that not only was he at my wedding but that he had held a pole of the chupa at the wedding of Chester and Rosalyn Siegel back in 1931. I visited him and asked him to recall those days of his youth. Here are some recollections:

“I was born in Baltimore in 1919. My father learned in the Telshe Yeshiva; Rabbi Gordon was his chavrusa. He was a shochet and also operated a Hebrew school in our home at 2101 East Baltimore Street. He also taught at TA. Among his students were Rabbi Paperman, Rabbi Avigdor Miller, and, yibadel lechaim tovim, Rabbi Poliakoff. Rabbi Chaim Schwartz told me that his father told him that my father was his alef bais rebbe. He remembers that, once in a while, someone would bring a chicken into the classroom. My father would have to go out and shecht the chicken and then come back and teach the children with bloody fingers!”

Mr. Bennett’s wife Sylvia was also born in Baltimore, and lived at 19 North Broadway. Her father, Mr. Baker, was first a cap maker and then he bought a gasoline station. Both Mr. and Mrs. Bennett belonged to the Adas as youngsters. Mr. Bennett describes the beginning of the Adas: “Chester and his older brother Morris, as well as O.D. Taragin and a number of other young people were afraid that Yiddishkeit was dying out in East Baltimore. They founded an organization for the young people whose motto was ‘Judaism in general, Shabbos in particular.’ The week they started it was parshas Vayakhel. The parsha starts “Vayakhel Moshe es kol adas benei Yisrael – And Moshe gathered the entire congregation of the sons of Israel.” They therefore decided to call their club The Adas. They started a shul and it was called ‘the boys’ shul,’ because it was entirely run by the younger generation.

“In order to keep the youngsters interested, they had groups. There were the seniors, intermediate, juniors, and sub-juniors. Mr. Bennett was in the intermediate group, which was for kids around 13 to 16. The groups would meet Shabbos afternoon at a larger shul, the Tzemach Tzedek, which was a Lubavitcher shul headed by Rabbi Axelrod. It was located at Collington and Fairmont Avenues. In the beginning, the groups were not split and boys like Velvel Taragin (Alan’s father) and Sam Krevitsky led groups. Chester led the junior group, ages 10 to 13.

“The kids would come back to the Adas or to various homes on Saturday night for activities. (It was called Shabbese nacht, in Yiddish; no one called it motzei Shabbos in those days.) Every Lag B’Omer, we had a hayride,” Mr. Bennett continued. “There were about 20 kids in each group, mostly from frum homes, but not all. Once a year, there was the boat ride to Tolchester. Later, Rabbi Teddy Davis came back from Slabodka and split the coed groups, but that was a little later on in the story.

“Rosalyn came from Altoona, Pennsylvania. Eugene (Pitzy) Siegel’s mother brought her along to a meeting of the Adas, and she met Chester. She spent the summer in Baltimore, and Chester courted her by taking her on the Adas hay ride and the Tolchester boat ride. He wanted to marry her then, but she decided to return to Altoona and finish her senior year of high school first. I remember that they got married outside, in front of the Adas, and the Intermediate boys were the ones who held up the chupa, and I was one of those boys,” said Mr. Bennett.

“At this point, it is important to clarify that there were no Bais Yaakovs in the United States and very few boys schools. The Talmudical Academy only went to the sixth grade in my youth. Those boys who wanted to learn more would have a class with Rabbi Samson after public school. But, it was a different world. Only a few youngsters were shomer Shabbos, and it was hard to find employment. The Adas helped people get jobs, which was the main goal, to keep the young people shomer Shabbos. Keep in mind that these were the years of the Great Depression. The Adas was unique.

“As time went by, more and more of the original Adas activists joined the move uptown. Chester and Rosalyn remained in East Baltimore, and they were the main ones keeping the Adas going in those years. One reason that they were able to devote so much time to the Adas was that they had no children. They were married in 1931 and did not have a child until after Chester came back from the Army after World War II. The birth of Feigi in 1950 was some simcha. The whole Orthodox community was so happy for them.”

* * *

As an aside, I spoke to the Rosh Hayeshiva of Ner Yisrael, Rav Aharon Feldman, about his recollections. His first comment was that Rosalyn Siegel was his piano teacher when he was 10 years old. He said that his parents were very fond of Chester and Rosalyn and that when Chester had to go into the army, his father, Rabbi Joseph Feldman, arranged a conditional divorce, a get al tenai. The purpose was that, if, heaven forbid, he did not return from the war, then the get would be effective and his wife would not be an aguna, nor need chalitza. How many young men were that frum that they would have done such a thing? It tells you something of Chester’s yiras Shamayim.

* * *

Getting back to the Bennetts, Matthew, or Matis, as he is called in Hebrew, has been a baal koreh since his youth. He did not daven at the Adas on Shabbos morning, because he was the baal koreh at various shuls in East Baltimore. One group that deserves mention is Anshei Emes, the “men of truth.” No one called it that, however. It was called the “Frumme Cohn’s Shul.” These were the forebears of such Shearith Israel stalwarts as Henry P. Cohn, Alvin Cohn, and Aber Cohn. These Cohns were uncompromising in their devotion to every detail of Yiddishkeit, and they made their own shul, where no talking was allowed. At this time, Shearith Israel was way uptown on McCullough Street near Druid Hill Park, and these “frumme Cohns” still lived in East Baltimore. They got about 10 or 11 people on Shabbos, and Mr. Bennett was paid $5 a week. “That was real money in those days,” he exclaimed.

How did Sylvia Baker get to the Adas? As I mentioned, her father owned a gasoline station. When his brother died, he wanted to say Kaddish, and the Adas was nearby. He was so impressed by the boys that after a while, he stopped going into the business on Shabbos, altogether. Like many people, he made a shtar, a contract, with a non-Jew, who operated the business when he could not. Young Matis met Joseph Baker at the Adas and they made up to play chess on Shabbos afternoons. Once her father started davening at the Adas, young Sylvia joined the youth groups there, and, like the other girls, became Sabbath observant.

The war was for Shabbos, and the Adas was on the front lines of the battle. Sylvia had absolutely no Jewish education whatsoever, like many other girls of her generation. One of the Adas boys, Herman Klein, told her that a Jewish girl needs to be able to read alef bais, and he came to her home and voluntarily taught her to read Hebrew. Sylvia adds that this was the only formal Jewish education she received until she enrolled in the Baltimore Hebrew College at the age of 40. Here, she adds in her own words, “Sham lamaditi ledaber ketzat Ivrit – There I learned to speak a little Hebrew.”

Matis had a hobby of stamp collecting. He didn’t have the money to buy stamps, so he became a part-time seller of stamps to other collectors. He was also the religious functionary, baal koreh, baal tefila, and Hebrew school teacher in Ventnor, New Jersey, for 10 years. Then he and Sylvia returned to Baltimore and he pursued his career as a seller of stamps. Back in those days, before the Internet, many kids collected stamps. I don’t think it is as popular today.

As I was leaving their apartment, Sylvia showed me a picture of her great-grandchildren in Israel. The Bennetts’ daughter settled on Kibbutz Ein Tzurim 40 years ago, and over the years the Bennetts have gone to Israel for many simchas. Matis had a bad fall and was very weak for a long time. Thank G-d, he is back in Shomrei, where he is a regular baal koreh. May he continue in good health for many more years.

* * *

The second couple I interviewed was Morris and Ann Cohen. They live in what is called the “Chanukah House” on Park Heights Avenue, and many of you know their son Larry or their other sons. Ann Cohen grew up in the Adas, and she has been telling me for years how much she admired my mother-in-law, Rosalyn Siegel. I decided to visit them and ask about those days when she was a young girl in the Adas. Here is her story:

“Rosalyn Siegel was a beautiful woman. She had honey-blond hair pulled back in a bun. She and Chester made a beautiful pair. I was 12 years old, and they were the glue that held the Adas together.

“My father was a chazan at the Tzemach Tzedek shul, and he taught fourth grade at TA, but he died when he was 47, leaving my mother with five small children. You lose out when you don’t have a father. I remember, we girls would go over to the Schwartz family after the meal to hear them sing zemiros. I went to Hebrew school at the Bennett house. Mrs. Miriam Bennett was our teacher. She taught in the living room, and her husband, the shochet, taught the boys in the basement.

“The Adas was the love of my life. We spent hours there. One day, when my father was still alive, I came into the house and heard him talking to my mother about moving uptown. I started to cry, I told them that I only would move if we moved next door to the Adas. When I was 10 years old I started Hebrew school at the Adas. We learned five pesukim at a time, and for homework we had to be able to read and translate into Yiddish those five verses. Rabbi Davis’ wife was our teacher. On Shabbos we would learn Pirkei Avos. We went in the morning and then returned for Mincha.

“I remember how, one day, Rabbi Davis drew a tree on the board and said that some mitzvas are higher than others and that we had to separate the boys and the girls from then on. This is a later period than that of Matis and Sylvia Bennett, when the shul had a rabbi, who guided them in halacha. Not everyone went along with it and there were some mothers who pulled out their girls, but I stayed. Rebbetzin Davis was a major influence on my life. Everything she taught me has stayed in my mind.

“We used to come back to the Adas on Shabbese nacht and play on the sidewalk outside: games like hide and seek. You could stay outside until midnight and not be afraid. Rosalyn Siegel was our advisor and our role model. She was very beautiful, and I think that makes an impression on a young girl. We were lucky; we were a small clique of shomrei Shabbos.”

Morris adds at this point that Chester and Rosalyn were the “pnei” of the Adas. Translating that phrase is not easy. Literally, it means that they were the face of the Adas; when you think of the Adas in those days, you think of them.

Ann remembers that there was once a melave malka, and Rosalyn assigned her to memorize and recite in Yiddish a story about why the dog chases the cat and why the cat chases the mouse. All the parents came, and Ann was very proud to be able to recite it in Yiddish. When I told this story to Feigi, she said she remembers that her mother had that book in the basement. Unfortunately, I don’t think we saved it for posterity.

I asked Morris Cohen to tell me about his life and how they met. Morris starts by saying that he went to TA until it ended in the seventh grade. “My father was a shochet, and he liked to daven in many shuls; he was a shul hopper. In those days, there was a shul on every corner in East Baltimore. My fathered mostly davened at the Tzemach Tzedek, but also at the Kolker shul and at the Bais Medrash Hagodol.

“When we finished TA, the English principal, Mr. Simon Isaacson, offered us the opportunity to come to school for three months in the summer and he would tutor us. If we did this, we could skip the eighth grade and go straight into the ninth grade at City College, an all-boys public school. I did not choose to do so, because at the time I was more interested in playing softball in a league in Patterson Park. I wanted to play with the Patterson Boys Club. Blue Coal sponsored our team. I explained to the coach, who was not Jewish, that I could not play on Saturday. He told me that he couldn’t show favoritism and that I had to play.

“My father came and spoke in his broken English to the coach and explained to him that we were shomer Shabbos. The coach agreed that I could sit out the Saturday games, but I still had to be there. I played second base. I went to Patterson Park Junior High the following year, and also for ninth grade the year after. I was the only boy in the locker room who wore tzitzis. They were mostly Polish boys, but they didn’t bother me. Then I switched to City College and continued to play ball.

“When I was about 14, I got active in the JEA. The Jewish Educational Alliance was a place where there were English classes for immigrants as well as activities for all ages. I joined a group there called the Alliance Club and played basketball and softball. I also belonged to a youth group called Hashomer Hadati.

“When I graduated from high school, I was drafted. I asked Rabbi Axelrod what to do about keeping kosher in the army. His exact words were, ‘Ven men nemt a bix in hant and mir geit in milchomo, meg men essen alles, uber chazir nit – When you take up a gun and go to war, you may eat anything except pork.’ ‘Un ven mir est fleish, shmuksinit di beiner, sohl nit sogen az ir hot hanoah – And when you have to eat meat, don’t suck the bones, to show that you have no pleasure from eating it.’”

Feigi tells me that her father, Chester Siegel, did not rely on this psak and did not eat non-kosher all the years he was stationed in the Aleutian Islands. He subsisted on sardines, salami sent from home, and fruits and vegetables. However, he was never in the actual shooting war.

When Morris returned from the war, he met Ann. I asked how they met, and she explained that on Simchas Torah, the girls would come down from the balcony and stand on the bima in the center of the Tzemach Tzedek shul and kiss the Torah, as the boys went around. She was 18, and that is how she met her future husband. She remembers that she was standing next to Dr. Ronnie Friedman’s mother. It was a different world!

Ann remembers that she and another frum girl wanted to be excused from class when they were singing Christmas carols, but the teacher would not let them leave. “I sat in the back and silently translated the songs into Yiddish to while away the time: ‘Shtile nacht, heilige nacht.’”

Morris got a job as a court reporter, and Ann got a job with Social Security, and they remained shomer Shabbos. Unfortunately, they were a rare breed. Most of their contemporaries did not keep kosher, certainly not out of the house. Once a year, the alumni of the JEA would have a reunion, and it was always in a non-kosher hall. Morris remembers that they would give him a plate of lettuce and open a can of tuna in front of him and put it on the plate. That is what he ate when everyone else was eating non-kosher. One year, he and Mickey Minkove protested. They said that since it was the 13th reunion of the JEA, it was like a bar mitzva and therefore should be kosher. It wasn’t simple, but they did prevail that year, and the reunion was catered by Schleider.

For many years, Morris and Ann were stalwarts of the Ohr Knesset Anshei Sfard shul on Rogers Avenue, which then merged with Beth Jacob. They were always in the minority of shomrei Shabbos in these shuls. Now that Beth Jacob has merged with Beth Tfiloh, Morris walks to Hertzberg’s, where both he and Ann have a warm relationship with Rabbi Dovid Katz. Ann misses the decorum and the way that such prayers as Yizkor were recited in unison, but they are getting used to it. After all, her first employer, a Jewish doctor, told her that if she stubbornly refused to come in and work half a day on Saturday, “you will never be a success in your whole life.” I think that, looking back, Morris and Ann have been successful. As Ann learned as a little girl at the Adas, “Judaism in general, Shabbos in particular.” The Cohens recently celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. May they celebrate many more simchas.

* * *

A few concluding comments: It would be a travesty to rewrite this history to make it conform to the norms of 21st century Orthodoxy. These boys and girls were the few among the many, the ones who did not submit. The world they grew up in was far different from the one their great-grandchildren have the zechus to live in today. They fought for basic Yiddishkeit – for Shabbos and kashrus. They did not battle gentiles, but other Jews, who laughed at them and called them foolish for persisting in the old ways.

I do not pretend to understand the ways of the One Above. When I told Feigi that the reason her parents were able to devote their time to the boys and girls of the Adas was because they were not blessed with children for so many years, my righteous wife said, “Maybe the reason Hashem did not bless them with children earlier was so they could influence these children.”

There is much more that could be said but I want to wrap this up with a thought from the Ksav Sofer. I was discussing this topic with Rav Aharon Tendler of Ner Yisrael, and he showed me a beautiful comment by the Ksav Sofer:

In parshas Lech Lecha, the Torah tells Avraham, “Lech lecha mei’artzecha va’escha legoy gadol – Go forth from your land and I will make you into a great people.” Rashi explains, “Here you were not zocheh to have children, but there you will have children.” The Ksav Sofer explains that there is a reason why Avraham and Sarah did not have children right away. He says, “Nireh li laseis taam lamah lo zacha lebanim ad eis ziknuso, vechein kol ha’avos. Ve yeish lomar she’im yihyeh lo banim, yashgiach al banav velo yilmad im acheirim kol kach.” In other words, if our forefathers had been blessed with children in their youth, they would have been busy raising their own family and would not have had time to learn with others. So you see, my wife had the same insight as the Ksav Sofer!

The challenges we face today are not identical to those the Cohens, the Bennetts, and the Siegels faced. Perhaps our greatest challenge today is keeping our children on the derech – passing our traditions on to the next generation and motivating them to live by the ideals of their ancestors.

Now, Yechezkel Lasson and Rivka Fertig know a little more about their wonderful great-grandparents. Indeed, all Baltimore’s children can learn about the struggles and accomplishments of these Baltimore forebears and be inspired to continue on that derech. May we all share in many simchas and have Yiddishe nachas.

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Article List - September 2008