The Informants:
My informants were my Aunt Becky, my father's only sister who left Burdujeni for Canada in 1921 at age 20, and my father, Jack Alter, who was brought to Montreal by his sister in 1928 when he too was 20.

 Their immediate family in Burdujeni consisted of their five brothers, father, a tinsmith and shopkeeper, and Mother, Freyda, the town's nurse-doctor-social worker-philanthropist-the one to whom all turned for help and guidance.

 My grandmother was born in Burdujeni, my grandfather in Austria. He had come to Burdujeni to work on the construction of the railway station, a project for which many foreign laborers had been imported.

 The Shtetl:
In 1792, Jews began to settle in Burdujeni, a shtetl in Moldavia which was in northwestern Rumania on the Austro-Rumanian border. In 1820, there were 183 Jewish taxpaying head of families; by the middle of the century the Jews constituted the majority of the town's population - in 1859, 1,140 Jews represented two-thirds of the population. By 1899, the Jewish population had increased to 2,0381.

 Outside the shtetl, one was in an overwhelmingly Christian rural environment, for the Jews of Rumania were forbidden to settle in rural areas.

 Before 1918, the Suceava River formed the border between Austria and Rumania - it was here that the Burdujeni and peasant children swam. The countryside was lush and fertile; forests and rich farm lands covered with wheat, corn, and fruit and nut trees surrounded the town; chicken and egg farming was carried on by the peasants.

 Certain factors contributed to making Burdujeni a somewhat more worldly town than one would expect of a shtetl of this size.

 The people of Burdujeni had economic and social contact with the city of Jassy, the capital and oldest Jewish community of Moldavia2, and with Botosani, only 25 kilometers away, the second largest and most important Jewish community of Moldavia3.

 Because of its location almost directly on the Austrian border, Burdujeni was the town from which Rumanian and Russian émigrés, hoping to get to America, stole into Austria. The townsfolk were used to the sight of strangers coming and going.

 The railroad station was the second largest in the country. It was the first stop for the express train from Vienna to Bucharest and was the first impression that travelers had of Rumania. Consequently, the station was very large and elegant and housed three restaurants - first, second, and third classes.

 The town exported eggs and walnuts which the Jewish merchants collected from the surrounding villages. My father remembers collecting the eggs, candling them and packing them into large straw filled crates which were delivered to the railway station to be shipped to Braila, a port on the Danube in Southeast Rumania, for export to Germany.

 Burdujeni consisted of three streets - Stefan cel Mare, the business street, where the shopkeepers lived and worked; the Intergas, which was the street of the artisans and craftsmen; and the Budergas, the street of the work ers, which led to the public bath.

 Stefan cel Mare had cobblestone sidewalks and numbered brick houses; the sidewalks of the Intergas were paved as well, but the houses were shabbier than on the main street: the Budergas was completely unpaved.

 The three streets, extending in an east west direction, merged in the countryside to become one highway leading to the railroad station.

 Basically, the town was made up of small shopkeepers and craftsmen who bought from and sold to each other and the peasants of the countryside. Business with the peasants was transacted mainly on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the days when the farmers brought their produce to the market.

 There were two or three families in the town who were Rumanian citizens. This unique situation had arisen from the Rumanian revolt against Turkey in 1877, after which all participants had been granted citizenship. These few in Burdujeni were referred to as the Drepnikers, a Yiddish-Rumanian expression meaning those who had rights - that is, they could vote, own property, and send their children to university.

 Hasidism was widespread in Moldavia because it bordered on Galicia and Russia. In the eighteenth century, Hasidism had spread to Jassy and from there into the rest of Moldavia4. Burdujeni's Jews were about evenly divided into Misnagdim and Hasidim, very few of whom wore beards and earlocks. My aunt and father recall that generally both groups got along well, with limited animosity or conflict.

 Rumanian Institutions:
The town administration consisted of the Mayor - the Primar - who had been appointed by the Governor, a city clerk, tax collector, notary, and the Gendarmarie. The Primaria - City Hall - which was the town's handsomest building, held the government offices and the headquarters of the Gendarmarie.

 Baksheesh was the name of the game in dealing with government officials. It operated in the following manner. Taxes had to be paid in person, by a certain date. However, to ensure that the tax collector would receive the payment within the specified period, so as to avoid a penalty for late payment, one had first to bribe him so that he wouldn't be too busy to receive you on your appointed day.

 It was the City Hall's responsibility to maintain the gravel roads in the shtetl and to provide night watchmen for security. Every male was obliged to give his service for a certain number of days per year for these jobs. The wealthier Jews were able to bribe the officials so that only the non-Jews and poor Jews were forced to do this work. The Gendarmarie, a Chef and eight or ten gendarmes, kept order in the town, particularly on market days when the peasants frequently became drunk.

 The Chef's appointment in the shtetl generally lasted two years, so that delicate, preliminary contact had to be made with each new Chef. The crucial issue to be determined was whether or not he was good - that is, did he accept bribes?

 Usually, however, all Chefs turned out to be good by the end of their service, so good in fact, that it was incumbent on every shopkeeper, according to the size of his business, to pay a certain sum to keep his shop open on Sundays.

 On the whole, relations between the Jews and the Gendarmarie were amicable - the latter, in most dealings with the Jews did not walk away empty-handed.

 The notary notarized the innumerable documents which one was required to have - birth, marriage, and death certificates, passport applications and the like.

 The state hospital was staffed by two doctors, both of whom were Jews who had converted to Christianity in order to practice medicine in a state institution. The Jews regarded the hospital with dread, fearing it as a place from which one did not return.

 There being no dentist in the shtetl, the people from Burdujeni went to Suceava for dental work.

 The public telephone was located in the post and telegraph office. (There was only one private telephone in the shtetl.) To receive a telephone call, the procedure was as follows: The caller sent a telegram to the Burdujeni post office saying that he would telephone Reb Laster at 3 o'clock. This telegram was then delivered to Reb Laster, who would appear at the post office at 3 o'clock to receive his call.

 Despite the elegance of the railroad station, it was often the scene of hysteria, for it was only minutes before a train was due to arrive that the clerk got around to opening the ticket office. People who might have been waiting for hours to buy a ticket would push and shove at each other, yelling excitedly, only to discover that the train had already departed.

 Many Jews, however, never even tried to buy a ticket. They simply climbed aboard the train and waited for the conductor to begin his rounds. When he called out in a bastardized Yiddish, half for me, half for you, they knew they were safe and would be traveling for half fare on that trip.

 The Non-Jewish Population:
An economic interdependence existed between the shtetl Jews and the peasant population surrounding them. The peasants sold their farm produce to the Jews and in turn bought the Jews' shop goods.

 This business relationship was the sole point of contact between the two groups, and in the following situation one feels how condescendingly the Jews viewed the peasants. My family often went directly to the peasants’ dwelling for their milk. They always brought with them a bucket of water to ensure that the peasant could have no excuse for not washing his hands before he began the milking.

 Burdujeni had two pork butchers whose clientele was the peasantry, the government officials, and the few other Christians of the shtetl. The pork shops were open for business on Saturdays, although generally, there was little traffic. For the peasants, there was no inducement to come to town because all other shops were closed.

 At one time, rumors circulated amongst the Jews that a certain Jewish matron, who employed a Christian maid, was a customer of the pork butchers. It was never quite ascertained whether the maid was buying this meat solely for herself or for her mistress’ household.

 The Christian saloon was owned by one Botez (from botezat, meaning christened) whose grandfather had converted many years before from Judaism. It was somewhat ironic that when the Jewish children wanted to antagonize Botez, they called his children dirty Jews.

 Relations between the Jews and the non-Jewish population in and around Burdujeni were generally stable. Although the government passed harsh, restrictive legislation against the Jews, and anti-semitism was rampant, there were few pogroms in Rumania. One exception was the revolt of 1907 during which the peasants turned against the landlords and subsequently against the Jews. Burdujeni found itself in a uniquely fortunate position because of its proximity to the Austrian border and Franz Josef's generally favorable attitude to the Jews. Franz Josef opened Austria's doors to Burdujeni's Jews and the entire town fled to I¸tcan, a town close to Suceava. During the mad scramble to escape, my father's brother was left behind. Fortunately, his absence was noticed before the family had gone far, and he was retrieved.

 When the townspeople returned to the shtetl, they found their shops smashed and pillaged, but all in all, considered themselves lucky to have escaped without any loss of life.

 Jewish Institutions:
In 1898, the Jewish Colonial Association founded a Jewish school for boys5. There were also three heders in the town, and those children who attended the Rumanian schools had lessons with the melamed after their classes.

 Children did not start school in Rumania until they were seven, so until they became of age boys attended heder.

 The Chevre Kadishe Society took charge of all aspects of a funeral, which included the washing of the bodies, supplying shrouds if necessary and carrying the deceased to the cemetery where they were buried without coffins. Wealthy people who had not fulfilled what the community deemed to be their responsibility were not buried until the deceased's family gave a contribution to the community chest.

 The shtetl was relatively well-off and had few paupers or beggars, for most were too proud to beg even if they were in need. However, beggars did come from Suceava to Burdujeni from time to time,

 There was a charity drive once or twice a year and at holidays as well, every home had a charity box into which a few coins were dropped on Fridays. In this way, the poor and sick were able to be cared for.

 From my father’s recollections, charity often took the form of a woman like my grandmother who would send her children out on Thursdays to collect chicken, vegetables, candles, and the like from the neighbors. She then made up as many parcels for the poor and widows as were required and on Friday her children delivered the Shabbos baskets.

 Burdujeni had two shoktim, each with his own following who claimed that the other shokhet wasn't kosher enough. Before someone could have his chicken slaughtered, he had first to buy a ticket. This represented the tax which was levied on kosher meat, the proceeds of which were used to pay the shoktim and Rov. This ticket was brought to the shokhet who then tore it up and slaughtered the chicken.

 The bath was privately owned by a man called Der Bader by the town. It was a Turkish bath in which a non-Jewish attendant was employed to pour boiling water over the stones. There was also a Jewish woman employed to attend to the women in the mikve and to cut their nails.

 The shtetl's Rov - the Visniter - was a Hasid from Visnita, a town in the Bukovina. He had no children, much to his and his followers’ sorrow, but he had a nephew living with him. He was the leader of the Visniter Shul where my family prayed. Some of the other shuls were the Big Shul, which the tradesmen attended, the Old Shul, the New Shul, and the Plub Shul.

 My Family's House:
My father lived in a three room house at number 92, on the Federgas, the business street. The front room consisted of the shop and a partitioned area which was the kitchen; the second room was the bedroom and dining room, used for Shabbos and holidays; the third room was the "salon" and storage room.

 My grandparents, helped by their oldest son, sold glassware, dishes, cutlery, and tin goods. The shop did a lively business which enabled the family to live relatively comfortably and placed them among the town's more prosperous.

 The kitchen consisted of two shelves, one each for the milk and meat dishes, and a small wood stove which my grandmother rose to light at 5:30. It was the children's responsibility to take turns to blow on the wet wood so that it would catch fire. Near the stove was a small alcove with a table and some chairs.

 The bedroom contained two beds in each of which slept four people, a long chair which unfolded to become another bed, and a long-table. There was also a large, built-in brick oven which was used for baking and cooking, and only rarely just for warmth. During the winter, the children looked forward to Thursday and Friday with great anticipation, not only for the delicious Shabbos food that emerged from the oven, but also for the warmth that it provided.

 The salon was rarely used; for one thing, in winter it was far too cold to be livable. This room held a large armoire with mirrored doors, a hand-woven carpet, and some trunks of assorted sizes in which clothes, underwear, and linens were stored.

 At the back of the yard was a small hut which was the outhouse, the barrel of which was regularly emptied by a peasant who was unceremoniously called der Drekher.

 At night, the children were often too frightened to cross their yard to go the outhouse. They preferred to use Eleazak's wall which partly surrounded his house and which was conveniently located near number 92. No matter how late Eleazak stayed up to surprise a culprit, he never was able to catch anyone in the act and in the morning frequently found near the wall little reminders of the nocturnal adventures.

 Shabbos:
Friday afternoon, of course, was a very busy time. Shops closed early, the men were off to the bath, and the women put the final touches to the children, the house, and the Friday evening meal. For the women, the day had begun at 4 or 5 a.m. when they rose to knead the challah dough. My aunt recalls that she was so upset by how much work her harried mother had on Friday, that instead of returning to her job at the dressmaker's she would stay at home after lunch to help her mother, much to the dressmaker's displeasure.

 At shul, my grandfather would immediately look around for a stranger spending Shabbos in Burdujeni. If so, he was almost always the guest for Shabbos at my grandparents’ home.

 Carp, soup, and chicken were the fare for the Friday evening meal, which was spent in a leisurely fashion with much talking and singing, After supper, the boys of the family visited with their friends, and their parents usually went to bed. When the Shabbos guest stayed overnight, one or more of the children slept on the floor.

 Saturday morning, many of the religious men went to the mikve before going to shul. Then it was the women's turn at the mikve, after which some of them gathered with my grandmother in her home where she led the women's prayers.

 There was no eruv around the town, and my aunt recalls the men badgering the children to carry the talesim and siddurim to shul. My ever-watchful grandmother would stand outside her house on the lookout for anyone stranded without a child to help him. When she spotted a helpless soul, quick as a wink, she rushed into her house to quickly dress one of her children who would carry the man's talis and siddur to Shul.

 After lunch, the boys and girls went walking in the woods. Often they walked barefoot to Suceava, at the outskirts of which they again put on their shoes, to stroll through the public gardens while listening to a band which played in the square.

 When a family had a Shabbos guest, it was customary for the neighbours to send nuts, cakes, or puddings in honor of the guest. Towards the end of the day, after all had rested, it was expected that the neighbors would visit and partake of the sweets that they had sent.

 Shabbos ended quietly and again friends came together, often to discuss their children in America and to read their letters to one another. Mothers cried and sang sentimental songs which told of their children far from home. Two songs that my father remembers in particular are Paper Children and A Letter to Momma.

 Finally, with thoughts once again turning to the new week and its worried, all went to bed.

 Holidays:
The Suliter Rabbi, from Suli¸ta a town near Botosani, used to spend Chanukah at the house of my father's Uncle Mayer, where the Rabbi’s followers gathered nightly for drinking, singing, and dancing. During the day, the Rabbi was available to the women, dispensing advice and guidance.

 Around this time of year, the women of the shtetl began their preparations for Pesach. Fattened geese, bought from the farmers, were killed by the shokhet, then cleaned and skinned. The Pesach utensils were taken out of storage in order to render the goose fat, which was then stored in the cellar until Pesach. The cracklings were then used to make varenikes for Chanukah.

 During the winter, the young girls frequently gathered together to sing and to strip the goose feathers of their down to be used for the making of pillows and comforters.

 At Purim, the children masqueraded from house to house, putting on little plays and receiving small gifts; the few beggars went from door to door collecting coins, which in my grandparents' house had first been stored under the tablecloth. Shalakhmones, containing hamantashen, strudel and sweet challah with raisins, was sent to the friends and neighbours. All went to shul to hear the reading of the Megillah and where the children tried to make as much noise as possible with their graggers.

 The baking of the matzos was begun after Purim in the hekdesh which was emptied, and thoroughly cleaned and whitewashed. The matzos were sold and carried away immediately for there were no storage facilities; it was then up to each family to store its matzos at home until Pesach.

 As Pesach approached, an air of expectancy developed in the shtetl. In my grandparent’s home, the walls and oven were whitewashed, the tables and benches kashered. Because of the nature of their shop, my grandmother usually had enough dishes, and pots and.pans for Pesach, so that she didn't have to kasher her everyday ones. However, on more than one occasion, to please a customer, my grandmother had to sell a certain item from her kitchen because the store’s supply had run out.

 If a child was especially lucky, he had a new suit or pair of shoes to wear for the seders, which my father recalls as joyous and boisterous occasions, for Rumanian Jews loved wine as much as the rest of the Rumanians.

 Simchas Torah was the happiest time of all. Rumania was a wine-producing country and this was the time of year for the new wines. The afternoon of Hoshana Rabba marked the beginning of the festivities, when the neighbours began to congregate. First, they ate sour pickles to work up their thirst, and then the drinking, singing and dancing began in earnest.

 In the evening, the whole town participated in a candlelight procession, after which each set off for his own shul and the Hakafos. Drinking and singing resumed at service’s end and continued late into the night.

 Some Customs:
Weddings were of course, joyous occasions in the shtetl. From the time of the groom’s being called to the Torah, he was not left alone until the time of the wedding. The ceremony took place most often on Tuesdays and Sundays in the shul courtyard in summer, or inside during the winter. Poor people were married early on Friday afternoon to avoid having a wedding party, which they couldn't afford.

 After the ceremony, the bride and groom walked at the head of a procession to the feast, which was usually held in the large room of the Jewish school. The couple was preceded by the water carrier who spilled water in their path as a symbol of good luck.

 As the guests approached the school, they were greeted by the musicians - hired from Botosani, or gypsies from the surrounding areas who played little marches in their honor.

 The banquet was prepared by the mothers of the bridal couple and their friends, or by a woman in the shtetl who was hired by those who could afford this luxury. It was the custom to have a long table set with assorted jams and jugs of cold water at the entrance of the hall. This sweet was the first refreshment served to the guests and to the bride, and groom for the breaking of their fast. The well-to-do observed the custom of feasting for seven days after the wedding, with the traditional seven blessings recited after every meal.

 Women gave birth at home, aided by a Christian midwife and her assistant, my grandmother. (Her predecessor had been her mother). A doctor was summoned only if complications arose.

 The new mother stayed in bed for a week after the birth, covered by a white sheet and red ribbons as protection against the evil eye.

 On the eve of a male baby's circumcision, young heder boys were brought to the room of the mother and infant to read prayers, after which the boys filed out in order and were given sweets. A humorous anecdote about one of the townsfolk is told in connection with this custom: Kandle was a rich but stingy man. Rochel Kandle's had given birth and the heder boys had been summoned to her house. However, as the boys marched out to receive their sweets, Kandle chalked a mark on each lad’s back to prevent him from returning to the line and getting a double portion.

 On the Friday night following the birth of a boy, the family and friends celebrated the ceremony of Sholem Zokher, at which guests were traditionally served chick peas, kichel, and cake. The Bris was a more formal affair, with guests being seated at dinner after the ceremony.

 The custom of giving a very sick child the name of Alter stemmed from the hope of deceiving the angel of death who would find it less tempting to carry away an old man than a child.

 Some Interesting Persons:
The best known and most loved person of Burdujeni was my grandmother Freyda. She was wise, good-looking, witty, efficient, energetic, a strong businesswoman and an excellent cook and baker, it was to her that the poor and rich alike came for guidance, be it for monetary or psychological help, or just for a comforting word.

 She was fondly referred to as the Doktorke. A sick person would first call on Freyda; if she thought it necessary, the doctor was then summoned, and he knew that if Freyda wanted him, he was really needed.

 When she died in 1941, two months before the Jews were transported to Transnistia, her funeral was the largest in the history of the town, and a eulogy, which was an unheard of practice, was delivered by the Rov.

 Kandle, the Gonif, the owner of the dry goods store was notorious for his stinginess and for the fact that he cheated his customers, in particular the peasants. His wife was a good and generous person who had to resort to trickery to hide her charitable deeds from him.

 My aunt recalls that on one Shavuous the smell of my grandmother's bagelach made Kandle so envious, that he actually became physically ill. Finally, his wife was forced to ask Freyda for some bagelach to please a sick man.

 Kandle's son, Rivele, was the town crier. He was somewhat retarded, which explains his lowly position, although he came from a family of the town's upper class.

 One of the town’s two doctors caused somewhat of a scandal when his housekeeper bore his child. Eventually, the matter settled down, and the housekeeper and the child continued to live in the doctor’s house until she married and moved away.

 Some Political Developments:
Burdujeni was a prosperous shtetl, consisting mainly of artisans and small shopkeepers. The area had no factories and there were virtually no apprentices or employees. There was simply no grass roots base here for Socialism to develop, and very few rallies or meetings were ever held.

 Zionism, however, took profound hold in Burdujeni, as it did in all of Rumania. In 1873, the first pre-Zionist groups were established, with participants emigrating to Palestine and dedicating themselves to agriculture6. In 1896, Herzl's Der Judenstaat was translated into Rumanian and appeared in Botosani7; soon, this book and Hebrew newspapers from Jassy found their way to Burdujeni. Zionist speakers who appeared in the shtetl were greeted enthusiastically by most, except for the most orthodox.

 With the publication of the Balfour Declaration the activity increased - a youth movement developed and not a week passed without some meeting or rally being held.

 The War Years:
In 1916, when Rumania entered the war, my grandfather, because he was Austrian, and his oldest son were interned in a camp deep in Rumania. For the next two years, my grandmother carried on alone in the shop and at home, and reported to City Hall weekly.

 Because most of the peasants had been drafted, farm labour was in short supply. My aunt recalls that for the women and girls the war years were spent living in fear of the Russian soldiers who might rape them or kidnap them for enforced farm labour or to sabotage the railway tracks to slow the German advance.

 Before the Russian advance, the Rumanian government had ordered that all whiskey from all saloons be spilled into the streets. Children lined up with pails to catch the whiskey as it trickled down the roads, and this is what saved many families from starvation during the war years, for they were able to trade the whiskey for the Russian soldiers’ bread, coffee, tea and sugar. All food and merchandise had been appropriated by the Rumanian government and officials ignored this brisk trading. However, it was implicitly understood that all trade was to be an exchange of goods, not one of money.

 The war was an ever-present reality for Burdujeni. Russian soldiers had marched through here on their way to Vatra-Dornei in the nearby Carpathians; in the shtetl one could hear the gunfire, and wounded soldiers were brought to Burdujeni’s hospital, homes, and schools which had been converted into hospitals. The town had also become a centre for refugees who had fled from the fighting in the Bukovina.

 Immigration:
After World War 1, the population of Burdujeni was 1,244 Jews8, a decrease of almost 50 per cent in 20 years. Mass migration from Rumania had begun in 1900 due to increasing persecution and internal economic crisis, and the revolt of 1907 speeded up the process9.

 For my grandparents, emigration meant losing their only daughter and two sons, only one of whom they ever saw again. The period prior to departure was filled with deep, conflicting emotions excitement and fear on the part of those who were leaving; relief and hope on the part of parents that one's child would find a better life in America and would prosper sufficiently so that other family members could follow, and despair that one's child was gone forever.

 My Father's Visit:
In 1935, after having lived in Canada for seven years, my father set sail on the Normandy bound for Le Havre. From there, he travelled for several days by train, arriving finally in Burdujeni at 2:30 in the morning. By 3 o'clock almost the entire town was awake to greet him, having been awakened by Rivele the Town Crier calling, Alter is here from America! One can imagine the excitement that met him, for it was a rarity for an emigré to visit his home town.

 By the following day, however, my grandmother's equilibrium was sufficiently restored so that she was ready to resume her role as town guardian and she proceeded to tell my father of the misfortune that had befallen the town water carrier. His horse had died, and the poor man had no means of transporting the water. That was all she had to say - without another word, my father pulled some bills from his pocket and handed them to her.

 My father’s immediate impression was that to me it looked like the town sank. In addition to this depressing reality of the shtetl's size and appearance, he saw the economic repercussions of the repressive legislation being passed by the Rumanian government. A recent law stated that a Christian need pay only 10% of any debt owed to a Jew, and that this 10% was payable over 10 years. This placed the Burdujeni shopkeepers, the majority of whose clientele was the peasantry, in a frighteningly precarious position. Added to this unrest, was the hitherto unknown problem of unemployment which was the result of a law proclaiming that only 5% of a factory work force could be Jewish. Many of the shtetl sons who had worked in factories in the cities had been fired and forced to return to Burdujeni.

 By this time, many of the people with whom my father spoke were desperate to leave, but few countries would have them. A handful from Burdujeni were able to get to Palestine and South America. My grandparents were anxious for my father to marry a town girl, a pharmacist, to enable her to leave with him, but after much agonizing, he found himself unable to marry her, and shortly returned to Canada.

 FOOTNOTES
1. Encyclopedia Judaica Volume 4, page 1510
2. Ibid Volume 9, page 1294
3. Ibid Volume 4, page 1271
4. Ibid Volume 9, page 1294
5. Ibid Volume 4, page 1510
6. Ibid Volume 16, pages 1133-34
7. Ibid Volume 16, pages 1133-34
8. Ibid Volume 4, page 1510
9. Ibid Volume 14, page 393