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Harbin, Heilongjiang PROVINCE, China |
HARBIN
MEMORIES FROM YAACOV LIBERMAN
Publisher: Gefen Publishing House, Ltd. 6 Hatzvi Street, Jerusalem 94386,
Israel
The Judah L. Magnes Museum, 2911 Russell Street, Berkeley, CA 94705 USA
Permission to print granted by Gefen Publishing House, Ltd., on April 10,
2007.
The book also includes chapters on the author's experiences in Shanghai,
Tientsin and other cities in Asia, as well as additional chapters on Harbin.
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 2
1923-1929. "MY HARBIN"
When did my impressions of
Although many Jews living in Harbin had escaped from
Russia immediately after the Bolshevik Revolution, only in the 1920s, and after
hair-raising border crossings, did most refugees settle in this Manchurian city.
Until Stalinism made attempted flight futile and suicidal, refugees continued to
pour into Harbin.
Among them was my aunt, a resident of Vladivostok.
My parents were anxious to see Aunt Sarah and Uncle Mulia emigrate to Harbin
much earlier. Uncle Mulia, the manager of the Russian branch of Lurie & Co, a
large international trading firm, felt that he could not abandon the home office
without salvaging whatever he could. Soon thereafter, Mulia was arrested by the
state security organ, the GPU. After weeks of agony and despair, Sarah learned
that her husband had been thrown into a local prison. Arriving one morning at
the prison gates and bearing her usual dry food, socks, a warm sweater and a
change of underwear, she was informed that Mulia was not in his cell. Running
from one official to another, she finally had a bundle of old clothing thrust
into her arms. When Sarah asked what had become of her husband, the official
replied:
[Page 23]
"He was eaten by dogs." Hours later, friends found my aunt
lying unconscious in the snow by the prison yard fence. After her hazardous
journey by foot, rowboat and horse-driven cart, Sarah Feinberg finally managed
to cross the Manchurian border. Like many others, she had been accompanied by
provodniaki,
special guides who made their strange livelihood guiding desperate refugees
past barricades and across borders toward
China. Aunt Sarah stayed with us for many years following her escape, but she
never recovered completely from her deep misery and depression.
*
* *
Not all Russian émigrés suffered Aunt Sarah's fate. The majority who settled in Harbin were unscarred physically or
mentally, and adjusted easily and enthusiastically to life on Chinese soil.
Nevertheless, these new arrivals in
China, Jews and Gentiles alike, bore the status of refugees and were called
White Russians to distinguish them from citizens of the Soviet Union,
who lived in relative isolation. Socialization between Jews and Gentiles was
minimal and, consequently, they were perceived as two exclusive ethnic entities.
Gentiles became categorized as White Russians, whereas the Jews preferred to be
known as stateless Russian Jews or simply as Jews from Russia. Nevertheless, the
two separate communities of Russian and Jewish immigrants made joint and
commendable use of the various existing facilities in town and patronized
Russian cultural institutions. Both groups enjoyed Russian theater, ballet and
occasional performances by local and visiting opera ensembles. They also mixed
socially in various clubs, commercial societies and sports organizations, and
occasional friendships were forged in school. Of course, there was no lack of
competition and a healthy rivalry that sometimes erupted into unpleasant
confrontations and intense animosity.
Both groups read Russian-language newspapers and journals, frequented
libraries and public concerts, lectures and discussions. All derived their news
and information from the two leading dailies in town:
[Page 24]
I spent my boyhood years in this environment. It was not
unusual for a well-to-do middle-class family to hire a nanny for its offspring.
I was introduced to my first niania at
the age of five. A heavyset, meticulously dressed woman in her late fifties, she
always wore starched dresses that buttoned down the front, trimmed with white
lace collars. Once, after a particularly heavy rain storm, on our daily walk
through town, niania attempted to take
me by the hand so that I would not splatter myself in the filthy puddles along
the pavement. That kind of coddling was not for me, and, pulling her toward a
large pool of water, I jumped into it with both feet, splashing her from head to
toe. The next day my mother was busy interviewing a succession of nianias for her mischievous son.
As I approached my eighth year, it no longer became necessary
for my parents to surround me with overseers, whose constant turnover gave me
the reputation of being a difficult child. Not that I became tamer - I was
merely becoming more mature and therefore too old to be accompanied by
prune-faced, starched matrons. My father then decided it was time personally to
take charge of my upbringing. Since Dad was busy in the office during most of
the day, this turn of events should have been welcome to me, were it not for my
mother's constant lectures regarding my abominable behavior. Nevertheless, I
cannot complain about the severity of the parental punishment to which I was
subjected. Only once
[Page 25]
was I whipped by my father; but then I crawled under my bed and was spared a
real beating.
One day when I had been grounded and wanted my freedom, I
composed a short poem in Russian, an apology and a promise to change my ways. My
father was so pleased at my ability to handle rhymes that he immediately agreed
to pardon me and even offered to take mother and me to the movies. As it
happened, we went to the premiere of an early talkie,
The Merry Widow, starring Jeannette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy. After that
first literary success, I composed rhymes quite often and not only for the
purpose of countering an occasional reprieve. In fact, I became quite skilled at
versifying and soon it became an effortless endeavor. Even today I occasionally
enjoy versifying, and find a power in poetry that can seldom be emulated by
prose.
As I passed from boyhood into adolescence, I became more at ease in my mother's
presence and was more relaxed in her company. Although I longed to become closer
to my father, he was away most of the day. Of medium height, my father was heavy
around the waist, and well on the way to losing his hair. What was left of it,
he carefully parted on the side with a barely noticeable parting that soon
disappeared as he balded. He wore heavy-rimmed eyeglasses, without which he
could neither read nor see clearly. From early photos, I knew that Father had
worn a mustache in his late teens and was a very handsome and popular bachelor.
What never failed to impress me was the respect with which he was always treated
by his peers. Throughout my life, I was repeatedly aware of the general opinion
formed by all who knew him: "What a wonderful man Sema Liberman is!" As manager
of an international trading company, owned by the well-known Kabalkin family,
father held an important job. Thanks to his wit, charm and talent for telling
jokes and anecdotes, he was often the center of attention at the many parties in
town. Dad was always in awe of his bride and considered himself fortunate to
have successfully captured the heart of a very beautiful woman, many years his
junior, who had been so popular among the eligible bachelors of the community.
[Page 26]
* * *
Gradually, as I became more independent, I began to explore my city, and became
more attuned to its spirit and atmosphere. Since most of us lived in Pristan,
the lower part of town, we walked to work and everywhere else. During the 1920s,
and even later, for that matter, no one in Harbin owned a car. The most popular
way to get around town was by izvoshchik -
a cabby with a carriage, much like those that one can still see today in New
York City's Central Park. For rare trips to Novyi Gorod, the New City,
and the elevated part of town, we used public buses. Some of my friends were the
proud owners of bicycles, but these were costly and even to walk my bike on the
city streets would provoke the envy of my peers.
To really feel the pulse of the city of Harbin, you must
locate its heart. And only when you find the source of the heartbeat will you
understand and appreciate the city itself. Kitaiskaia Ulitsa (Chinese Street),
the main street of Harbin, is its heart and its soul. Wherever you go, you are
bound either to pass or cross this street that mirrors the life and the mood of
the city and often reflects its major events. There are longer and wider streets
in the world. The Champs Elysées in Paris, Piccadilly in London and Fifth
[Page 27]
Avenue in New York
are rich in historical associations and each city has a unique urban character.
But to a boy like me, no street could compare to Chinese Street, which combined
a main thoroughfare, a shopping mall, a promenade, a restaurant row and a parade
ground.
When the Russians
relinquished their rights to the railway, one could register that transfer in
the diminishing crowds and the slower, sadder pace of the passers-by. When the
famous and beloved Dr. Kazenbeck passed away, one could sense the mood of the
city on Chinese Street where throngs of citizens, eyes filled with tears, walked
behind the catafalque of the revered doctor. And with the birth of the puppet
state of Manchukuo in 1931, one could read the resentment, the cynicism and the
anger in every passing face. In fact, it was on Chinese Street
that one could best discern the character of the future Soviet "conquerors,"
when as an aftermath of the Nagasaki
and
To the Jewish
population,
Chinese Street had its own significance. As one peered from the Sungari
shore toward the city, one could note that Chinese Street
branched into dozens of smaller streets, one of which was the Kommercheskaya
Ulitsa (Street of Commerce). Occupying a large part of this street stood the
Hall of Commerce, housing one of the largest Russian-language schools, a
theatre, a library, a spacious playground and a restaurant. Next to this complex
lay a large open field with a wooden hut, serving as a space for track and field
events during the summer months and as a skating rink in winter. Farther down
the street lived hundreds of foreigners, among them many members of the Jewish
community.
Among the non-Jewish
shops on Chinese Street were many corner kiosks that sold
booza, a Caucasian soft drink, and
baklava, a Greek pastry, gastronomic delights that were ever so popular
among our youth. Scores of other shops on Chinese Street
belonged to Jewish merchants who traded in women's clothing, furs, jewels, shoes
and hats. The Victoria
[Page 28]
Cafe, owned by the Bresler family, and the Cafe Mars, owned by the Zukermans,
were among the best in town. Farther down the street one could catch the
enticing aroma of a first-class delicatessen that sold red and black caviar
straight from the barrel at a few pennies a pound!
Another delicatessen around the corner on Artillery Street
belonged to a friend of my father, Owsiej Lias, whose son became one of my
closest and dearest friends. Lias sold milk products and pickled vegetables, the
taste of which was equalled by none. Many of my younger contemporaries would
stop by for a glass of kefir,
fermented goat's milk, which is no doubt the mother of all yogurts.
Amidst all these shops and restaurants, and majestically
towering above all of them, loomed Churin's department store, the largest in
town, where one might shop to one's heart's content or rendezvous. Next to
Churin stood the architectural pride of the city, the Hotel Moderne, which
housed the largest auditorium (used for theater, movies and concerts), a
ballroom, restaurants and shops. The hotel was owned and managed by a prominent
member of the Jewish community, Joseph Kaspe, whose personal tragedy had a deep
and lasting effect on every Jew in town.
* * *
I passed from childhood into boyhood during the years of Japanese domination.
Except for emergencies requiring Japanese security and political control, the
permissiveness and tolerance on the part of the Japanese administrators led to
chaos and anarchy. This atmosphere encouraged Japanese underworld figures to
surface, to plunder, to torment and to exploit the population without fear of
retribution. In Harbin this element found a willing and
anxious ally in the person of Konstantin Rodzaevsky and his bandits and
hooligans. One of his top lieutenants was a criminal named Martinoff, who, with
his gang, was responsible for kidnappings, targeted at the Jews, that terrorized
the city of
Harbin. None more stunned our community than did the kidnapping
[Page 29]
and murder of Michael Koffman,* a founder of Harbin's largest bakery, Meyron
Meizin, and the young musician, Simon Kaspe.
A brilliant pianist, Simon Kaspe had come from France, where
he was a citizen, to Harbin to visit his parents and to give
several piano recitals. After his abduction, the French Consul interfered and
insisted that the ransom demanded of his father be delayed, so that the French
government might have an opportunity to intervene with the
Harbin authorities. Soon after, Joseph Kaspe received a second note from the
kidnappers. Enclosed in this one were Simon's ear lobes! Almost immediately
thereafter, the kidnappers, afraid of being caught by the authorities who, due
to the Consular intervention were now hot on the case, began running from one
hideout to the other, brutalizing and eventually shooting their victim.
At Simon's funeral, in keeping with Jewish tradition, Joseph Kaspe insisted on
seeing his son for the last time. When his wish was granted by members of the
Jewish Burial Society, the Hevra Kadisha, poor Joseph let out an inhuman scream.
In the coffin lay a mangled corpse with an unrecognizable face - half was
swollen and half was in a state of decay from frost and gangrene. Joseph Kaspe
was brought back home to the Hotel Moderne a broken man. That day, he did not
only lose his son - he lost his sanity as well.
The murderers were caught, tried and sentenced. However, due
to the intervention of the Japanese gendarmerie, which had willingly capitulated
to Rodzaevsky's pleas that an anti-Communist agenda had been the only premise
for the plot, they were released.
Dr. Kaufman, whose courageous protests against the Kaspe affair
were met with insults and provocations on the editorial pages of Rodzaevsky's
Our Way, could scarcely imagine that some thirteen years later, he, too,
__________
*Mr. Koffman's younger son,
Boris, became my close friend in Shanghai, as did George Terk. Boris died of a
virus infection in his late teens. I was blessed with George's friendship for
many years. He died of a heart attack in Los Angeles.
[Page 30]
would suffer a tragic fate. Like Kaspe's, his victimization would leave its
imprint on the Harbin Jewish community in its last
phase.
It was a black day for all residents of the city, when
in 1945 some two dozen leaders of every existing community were invited to the
Hotel Moderne by the Soviet authorities, who had walked into Manchuria a few days before General MacArthur accepted the Japanese
surrender on the deck of the
Missouri, in the
Bay
of
Tokyo. None of the gathered dignitaries, including Abram Yosefovich Kaufman and
several other members of the executive committee of the Harbin Spiritual
Association, returned home that night.* The group included Moses Zimin, Israel
Orloff and Alexander Raskin, all of whom were transported secretly across the
border and eventually incarcerated in the GULAG, with but a few survivors. Dr.
Kaufman was among them. He was met at Israel's
Lod airport by his loving family and hundreds of grateful immigrants from
Harbin, whose cause he so gallantly championed and for whose preservation he had
sacrificed so much.
* * *
In the 1920s, however, the Hotel Moderne was a showpiece of Chinese Street.
Harbin itself was a thriving, pulsating city, wherein both young and old found a
safe haven and a productive, exciting and interesting life. Here, in the
vastness called China, remote from other Jewish and Zionist organizations and
leaders, a proud and honorable generation of young men and women emerged that
one day would be a precious Jewish resource in our struggle for statehood and
the rejuvenation of our people.
__________
*Many others were arrested and transported to
prison camps in the Soviet Union. Two of my Betar colleagues, Yosef Halperin
(the talented poet) and Misha Kachanovsky (head of the Betar Tel Hal Fund), were
among them. Yosef died in a camp somewhere in the Soviet Union, while Misha was
rescued, thanks to the efforts of his family and the State of Israel. He lived a
healthy and productive life, until his early sixties, when he was stricken by a
heart attack.
Web Page: Copyright © 2007 Irene
Clurman