In
1987 I was visiting my aunt in Florida and
used the visit to do an oral history with
her. When a cousin stopped by, the one
Holocaust survivor from our family, my
father got caught up in the idea of oral
histories and started asking him
questions. I joined them around the
kitchen table and asked if I could tape
their discussion. Meyer had a very
thick accent and much of it was difficult to
understand, but I am very grateful to have
that piece of history on tape. This
interview should be read in conjunction with
that of Phyllis Eisenstein, also a cousin of
Meyer.-courtesy
of Susan Weinberg
Phyllis Eisenstein (previously
Fela Cukier) by Susan Weinberg
When
I began my genealogy research my parents
suggested that I speak with Phyllis.
At the time I don't think any of us fully
realized the relationship between our
families. I was to learn that there
were several marriages between our families,
both families worked together in the flour
milling business and Phyllis had lived next
door to my family members in Radom. She was
a wealth of information on family and her
information enabled me to locate other
family members who were survivors.-courtesy of
Susan Weinberg with a special thank you to
Phyllis Eisenstein
Excerpt
from "J'avais Promis à Ma Mère de
Revenir" by Moniek Baumzecer
Excerpt
from "J'avais Promis à Ma Mère de
Revenir" by Moniek Baumzecer
Copyright 2006, reprinted with
permission, all rights reserved
When I visited the International Tracing
Service in Bad Arolsen, I located a file for
Moniek Baumzecer, my third-cousin. I
discovered that Moniek had survived the war
and settled in Paris where he and his wife
raised their family. A search revealed
that he had written a book when he was 86 on
his experiences during the Holocaust.
The book was published by Le Manuscrit and
the Foundation for the Memory of the Shoah
and is only available in French. I
have translated to English the section on
family and his early life in Radom (prior to
the family moving to Lodz). If you are
interested in obtaining the full book in
French you can locate it at foundationshoah.org.
This
excerpt
is
provided
with
the
kind
approval of Moniek Baumzecer and Le
Manuscrit.
Manny
Steinberg, from Radom, was 14 when the war
broke out. He has written a book "Outcry"
about his experiences during the war.
An interview with him is available on
Youtube.
Dora
Zaidenweber, from Radom, was 15 when the war
broke out. Dora was interviewed by
Susan Weinberg about her experiences in
Radom prior to and during the war.
Because she was in the forced labor camp in
Radom until 1944 she recounts the events
that occurred in Radom up until she was sent
to Auschwitz. Dora's brother and her
husband hid photographs in their
shoes. They survived the war and their
shoes were never taken from them so the
photos survived as well. In 2011 Dora
joined Susan Weinberg, an artist, on a
return visit to Radom where Susan exhibited
her artwork on the former Jewish community
of Radom and Dora shared her photographs and
spoke to students about her life in Radom. courtesy of
Susan Weinberg with a special thank you to
Dora Zaidenweber
Eiger
(Isaia, David, Dora, Hanna Rose, Itzhak,
Nechemiah)
Other Radom names noted in the
names index include: Chaim-Shalom
Alter/Eiger, Berneman (Avram,
Itzek & Pesach), Irmiyah Birnbaum,
Joseph Blas, Lutek Blatman, Nute
Broniewski, Joseph Cesarski, Yurek Den,
Joseph Diament, Reb Finkelstzajn, Tuvye
and Meir Finkelsztajn, Artur , Fridman,
Samuel Frydman, Glatt(policeman),
Yechiel Glatt, Goldberg (Hillel and
Israel), Shashek Hammerstein, Moshe
Hoch, Kaplan (Menashe
& Shlomo), Leibel
Katzenelenbogen, Shaul Kirshenszweig
(from Przytyk), Adolf KleinertMoshe
Margulis, Shaya Melchior, Meryn, Shlomo
Minsberg, Mordechai Naidik, Oblerski,
Menashe Rapaport, Benjamin Reich, Yosele
Richtman, Reuben Rosenholtz, Tuvye
Rutman, Bernard Schechter, Fayvel
Szainboim, Yoske Sztajman, Tsingisser
(Abraham, Akiva, Israel), Michael Tober,
Shmulek Warshauer, Jules Zaidenweber,
Meir Itsche Zilberberg, Reuben Ziskin,
Zuckerman
After
the war, Isaia Eiger wrote a memoir of his
two and a half years in Auschwitz where his
skill at languages earned him the job of
recording incoming Jews. There he
interacted with the Jews of Radom as they
were sent to the camp. Prior to the war he
was a director of the Jewish orphanage and
an accountant in Radom. The memoir was
only published in 2013 after his daughter
found the last portion of his manuscript and
translated it from the original Yiddish
script. At the back of the book is a
names index of those mentioned in the book
and those from Radom frequently are
specifically mentioned. Excerpts are
available on-line.
Malka
Friedenreich
Kempner relates the story of her family from
Radom and her husband David Kempner.
Malka and David's son Irv also relates his
knowledge of the Friedenreich family.
Under
the Cemetery Page is listed a link to
the Radom Burial Societies which
mentions Moishe's Family Society of
Radom. This story is related to the
family on which that society was
based. The contributor's great
grandmother was Fajga Brandla AUSTRYAN,
Moishe' aunt. The story, handed down through
three generations, recounts Moishe's hanging
despite efforts by Rabbi Kerstenberg to save
him. Interestingly the story is
supported by an excerpt from Rabbi
Kerstenberg's diary. -courtesy of
Greg Tuchman and Rick Leeds
Excerpt
from "Mark It With a Stone" by Joseph HornCopyright
1996, reprinted with permission, all rights
reserved
This book excerpt shares Joseph Horn's early
recollections about his experiences in
pre-war Radom. Through descriptive
anecdotes.he paints a picture of the Jewish
experience in anti-Semitic Poland and the
values of a Jewish family that sustained
them. If you are interested in
obtaining a copy of the entire book or in
photos and video associated with this story
go to Mark
It With a Stone -courtesy of
Joseph Horn's daughter, Sandy Rubenstein.
Excerpt from "I Choose Life"
by Jerry Jennings and Sol and Goldie
Finkelstein with Joseph Finkelstein,
Copyright 2009 Joseph Finkelstein, reprinted
with permission, all rights reserved
This book excerpt shares Sol Finkelstein's
early experiences in Radom through the time
of the Radom Ghetto. The Finkelstein and
Warszenbrot family originated in the towns
of Pulawy, Konskowola and Wawolnica.
In 1928 Sol's parents moved from Pulawy to
Radom, 35 miles to the west. If you
are interested in obtaining a copy of the
entire book, you can locate it here.
-courtesy
of Joseph Finkelstein
The Word
of Abus Werber tells his life story,
before, during and after WWII. Werber grew
up in Radom and later moved to Begium. There
he was the party leader of a
Zionist-Socialist party and one of the
initiators of the Jewish Defense Committee
of Belgium which saved 3,000 children and
several thousand Jewish adults from the
Nazis. He ensured the editing, publishing
and distribution of 28 issues of a
clandestine Yiddish newspaper "Unzer Wort
(Our Word), in which he called neither to
follow their orders nor respond when
summoned to go to Mechelen, a transit camp
before deportation. If you are
interested in obtaining a copy of the entire
book, click here.
-courtesy of Michel Moshe Werber
Listen
to Ann's story at the St. Louis Kaplan
Feldman Holocaust Museum. Ann Najman Lenga
was born in Radom in 1931. During the war
she lived in the Radom ghetto and later in
hiding. From 1942-1944, Ann worked in the
Plonki Labor camp before being sent to
Auschwitz in January 1944. Ann, her mother
and brother survived the war. They emigrated
to the U.S. in 1950 and she later married
Morris Lenga, another survivor.
Interview
with Dora Eiger Zaidenweber
by
Susan Weinberg
with
a special thank you to Dora Eiger
Zaidenweber
Dora’s
Family
I was
born in Radom in 1924 and grew up there
until age 18.My
parents were Hanna and Isaia Eiger.My father was
from Radom, my mother’s family lived in
Przytyk which is a small town near
Radom.My
father was an accountant and my mother
was a homemaker.We
lived on Traugutta 51 the last several
years before the war. Before that we
lived on Reja 8.My
brothers were David and Moniek, Moniek
was five years younger than I and David
was 15 months older.
Most of my
family lived in Radom.Generationally there was my
great-grandmother, my great-grandfather
was no longer alive.There were my grandparents, my
grandmother and grandfather until 1939
when my grandfather died.I had a number of aunts and
uncles and ten cousins.
Those who lived
in Radom got together very often.We lived quite
close together, within walking distance
and we often visited.
Was your family religious?
We were very Jewish.We may not have practiced
religion every day, but certainly we
observed the Sabbath, we observed all
the holidays.Our
home was kosher and we felt ourselves
very connected to the Jewish community.My
grandparents were of course much more
religious.
So what was your Sabbath meal like?
Every Friday was gefilte fish.Usually we ate
dinner, the main meal, in the middle of
the day, like 2 or 2:30.In our particular family, that’s
what we did.And
in the evening my parents usually had
friends come and it was supper. So for
supper after the candles were lit in a
huge candelabra, it was very festive,
but all we had was gefilte fish and
maybe a vegetable or salad and pastries.And actually
we went to our youth organization, the
Zionist youth organization meeting
places and had an Oneg Shabbat.
Tell me about the Zionist Youth
Organization.
My Zionist youth group was affiliated
with the Scout movement.We were also engaged in Jewish
education.Ideologically
we were tied to the movement for a
Jewish homeland in Palestine.Some of the
older youth had already taken the step
to resettle in what was to later become
the State of Israel.
The Streets and Institutions
of Radom
Can you tell
me about some
of the
streets, like
Walowa?
Walowa
was the
entrance into
what was
mostly a
Jewish
area. In
my generation
we already
lived wherever
we wanted,
spread out
over the
city.
The Walowa
area was
pretty much
Jewish. When
you come in,
on the left
were the
buildings and
on the right
it was pretty
wide, not just
(a) street,
but kind of
like an
elongated
square. In
that place
there was
usually a
small market
on Thursdays.
The
synagogue was
on a small
street off of
Walowa.
A very little
street
(Bozniczna).
The ghetto was
set up in that
area.
The entrance
to the street
was blocked
off and there
was a guard in
front of it
and it was the
entrance to
the
ghetto.
Further down
was what was
called Stare
Miasto, old
city, where
the hospital
was.
Walowa curves
to the right
and a
considerable
walk took you
to the Jewish
hospital.
When the
ghetto was
established,
it went much
further,
beyond where
the Jews
lived.
At the time
when I was
growing up the
concentration
of Jewish
settlement was
quite small
because most
of us lived
outside of the
Walowa
area.
There were
actually two
ghettos, one
was way out in
a totally
non-Jewish
area, a
working class
neighborhood
which was the
smaller
ghetto.
That was
called
Glinice.
When you
walked on
Zeromskiego
just before
you came to
Walowa,
Zemoskiego
ended.
To the left
was Walowa, to
the right was
a big church,
beyond that
was the
prison.
The street
curved to the
left and
that’s
Reja.
The first
building to
the right on
Reja was the
prison.
When I was
really young
and we lived
on Reja, I
always walked
by the
prison.
It was a high
wall, but you
could see the
cells at the
highest
stories with
broken glass
on top and
barbed
wire. So
it was kind of
tingly. There
was someone
looking out
there and he
was maybe a
killer, it was
mysterious.
School
We all wore
uniforms.All
school children had to wear uniforms.The uniforms
were the same, navy blue.Girls had a skirt and a top. For
special occasions we could wear a white
blouse with a navy skirt.Boys had a navy blue suit and a
jacket and coats and hats.We wore berets and the boys wore
hats with a visor.All schools from 7th
grade on, everybody wore a uniform.
What was the school you went
to ?
It was a Polish name ….Przyjaciol
Wiedzy, The Association of Friends of
Knowledge..
There were
schools of that association in other
cities as well.That
was the Jewish gymnasium. Everything was
taught in Polish.There
were (schools that taught in Hebrew),
not in this area where we lived, central
and western Poland.In Eastern Poland there were
tarbut schools where the language of
instruction was Hebrew, not Polish.Our schools
were accredited by the Polish Minister
of Education and it had to conform, had
to be exactly like every other
gymnasium, plus the Hebrew which was in
addition.
So we all went to school six days a week
six hours a day and then we had an
additional 7th hour of Hebrew
and Jewish subjects. So when it came to
finishing the end examinations they were
supervised by the minister of Education.So we were
entirely included into the education
system and Hebrew was in addition to it.
Did your brother go to the
same school?
No, my husband’s school and my brother’s
school were both on Traugutta. There
were two buildings, one behind the
other.The
front building was the Handlowe
Gymnasiam where my brother attended.The building
in the back housed Gymnasiam
Chalubinskiego where my husband
attended. Neither were Jewish schools.
Tell me about the languages
you speak.
Polish and Yiddish which I grew up with.German which
was a required foreign language in our
schools and Hebrew which I was not
completely fluent in, but I could
converse in.In
the third and fourth year of gymnasium I
started studying some English.I finished the
fourth year of gymnasium in 1939 when
the war broke out and finished my
education.However
in late 1939 and 1940 I did have an
English tutor and after the end of the
war when I spent five years in Germany I
continued to study English.When I came to
the United States I was already an
English speaker.I
loved studying languages. My
father was even more of a lover of
languages.In
addition to the ones that I spoke, he
spoke Russian and French which later
helped him survive Auschwitz for two and
a half years.
Identity
You were telling me before that you
viewed yourselves as Poles.
We were Poles.
Did the Poles view you as Poles?
No, but we were Poles in cultural terms,
not religiously.We were of Polish nationality of
Jewish religion.
As we were
growing up we were also exposed to
Zionist ideals.
Summers and Summer Camp
Tell me about how you spent your
summers.
Up until I was 11 we went every summer
to Garbatka.I
don’t know exactly how far it is, not
very far, by train maybe 4 villages
away, maybe 20 kilometers.I was very fond of it.I went back in
1939 even though I was going to a
different camp then.It was fun, it was nostalgic.We went there,
my mother and the kids with a whole
bunch of household items.We rented a house, a cottage, and
stayed there all summer and everybody
else we knew did the same thing.
Was your father in town?
My father was in town.The fathers
all came out Friday afternoon so the
kids all ran to the station and greeted
the fathers coming.One of the fondest memories I
have was those weekends when my father
came.He
really loved being with the kids, a
whole bunch collected, cousins of mine
too.He
would take us for a good few hours into
the woods, way way into the woods, and
we would pick mushrooms. He
knew mushrooms, and berries,
blueberries, raspberries, wild
strawberries. Then we would come back
and would cook up the mushrooms and we
would eat the fruit with sugar sprinkled
on it. It was just wonderful. Then
Sunday the fathers left and we stayed
there for the rest of the week.
Tragedy Strikes
After that I was eleven…in the meantime
there was a very tragic thing, I lost a
brother.My
younger brother died. He was sick for
six months of leukemia and died and my
mother didn’t want to go to Garbatka
again.My
older brother and I were old enough to
go to camps so that’s what we did from
then on.
Were they Jewish camps then?
Yes, those are privately arranged camps.
Two teachers would take a group of kids,
we would stay in a pensione and they
would arrange all sorts of activities
for us, swimming and hiking. Most of the
time we went into the lower mountains in
the south of Poland.That only lasted like 3 or 4
weeks so there was still time.One time after
I came home from camp, I went with my
father to a spa, a resort – Szczwnica. Where there were all
kinds of remedies for health.I went with
him one time for two weeks, but there
weren’t that many years between 11 and
15.
The last year in 1939, as I said I
went to visit my aunt and her family at
Garbatka for a few days and then I went
to a Zionist youth camp which was in the
high mountains in the Tatra mountains.
That ended in a big tragedy. It was a
summer that was very wet.It rained and rained. Our camp
had 400 kids from all over the country.
It was on a slope.Our organization was affiliated
with the scout movement so we had the
usual raising of the flag in the morning
and all these patriotic things.The cabins
were along the slope in a rectangle and
the main buildings were at the top.The grass was
thick green grass, but it rained so
much, I remember when we had to get our
food to bring to the cabins we had to
sit down on our butts and ride down, it
was so slippery, like ice.
The
last week there was always an excursion,
a hike, into the high mountains. It was
a Monday and there was a big assembly.The
leadership, which was 20, 21, 22 year
olds, real adults,they gave us the choice because
it was so bad, it was raining so much,there were so
many thunderstorms, that it may not have
been they thought so safe to go into the
mountains, but we would decide.Well that was
what my mother was afraid of.That’s why she
didn’t want me to go.So of course the enthusiastic
14-16 year olds decided to go.So everybody
started out at 6 in the morning and by
noon, one group that scaled a pretty
high mountain that was above the tree
line, Swinica was the name of the
mountain.It
was a very rocky place and it started
lightening and thundering.The rocks were struck by
lightening and started rolling down.The two
leaders who were both 21 were killed
right away because they were right in
front, six more were killed, a number
were injured, they scattered, two were
never found.It
was just a horrible disaster and that
happened on August 15, 1939 just two
weeks before the outbreak of the war.
Relations between Poles and Jews
I can’t say that we weren’t aware as
children that there was a difference
between Poles and Jews, but Poles and
Jews lived in fair harmony for many
centuries.It
wasn’t a new relationship.But there were the 150 years just
before the end of WWI that most of
Poland was under Russian occupation,
good chunks were under Prussian and
Austrian occupation which was different.Under Russian
occupation there was a lot more
anti-Semitism which filtered through
from there.There
was awareness of it, but I can’t say
that we were affected by it in everyday
life.
Growing up did you encounter
Anti-Semitism?
Being in a Jewish school, no. But there
were other things.From 1918, the liberation of
Poland, until 1935, the head of the
government was Marshall Pusitzsky.He was a
benevolent dictator and he kept an iron
hand on things and there was no problem.It wasn’t
really a dictatorship of the kind that
you see in other political systems.But primarily
I think it was because Poland didn’t
really have any kind of experience with
democracy or being a republic.Poland was
never really a republic before then.
Prior to the 150 years of occupation
Poland was a kingdom and a feudal
society. It was never a republic until
1918.But
in 1935 Marshall Pusitzky died.
Mind you Hitler was already in power in
Germany next door.So there is this incredible surge
in anti-Semitism in Germany.By 1935 they
had already enacted the racial laws.When Marshal
Pusitzky died.I
remember it very well. I was 11 years
old at the time.The
seat of the government was Warsaw, but
Cracow was the ancient royal capital so
the kings were buried in Wavel.So his body
was being taken from Warsaw to Cracow.Radom is on
that rail line.All
along, his body was on a caisson with
horses and an honor guard, I remember, I
can see it right now.All of us kids were lining the
side of the train as the train slowly
rolled by and I imagine it was the whole
295 kilometers from Warsaw to Cracow.It was all
lined with school children. And we were
wearing black armbands crying as well we
may have because it made a difference
after he died.We
were Polish kids, crying and mourning
the leader who died.We didn’t know anything else.
After that things really got much worse.Much more
open. Before Jews had a lot of autonomy
in Poland, but now a lot of this
autonomy was being chipped away and the
expression of anti-Semitism was becoming
more acceptable.Most
of it was obvious in universities.In 1938 when
the Poles, now I’ll say Poles and Jews,
they decided at the University in
Warsaw.There
was an open anti-Semitic organization
that was manifest by a little saber, a
tiny little Constantin sword.They demanded
that the Jewish students sit on the left
side of the lecture halls. That meant
that they would be admitting to being
Communists or Socialists. The Soviets
were always enemies so every Jew was
accused of being a Communist.We were
accused of being both, we were
Capitalists and Communists.It didn’t make
any difference.The
Jewish students refused to sit on the
left side, but they wouldn’t let them
sit on the right so they stood.There was a
lot of harassment.There was police harassment.It suddenly
became ok to harass the Jews.
Personally going to a Jewish school we
didn’t feel any of it.My brother didn’t go to a Jewish
school.In
the 9th and 10th
grade the boys had paramilitary
exercises so he was wearing this khaki
tunic on the days they had exercises and
a wide leather belt.My brother was the number 1
student in the class and was not a
fighter.One
day he came home from school in that
uniform and I noticed that there was
something written on his belt.We had double
desks, two people to a desk,so he knew who
was sitting behind him and looking at
it, it said “you dirty Jew”.So my brother
the next morning he came into class,
pulled that guy out of his desk and
started beating him.That was the first and only time
(he fought).No
one said anything and the teacher was
standing in the doorway and he never
said anything.He
knew that if his star student who never
fought with anybody was doing this he
had a good reason.It was trouble.
My husband had another experience. He
also didn’t go to the Jewish school. He
graduated in 1938.Prior to that there were six
Jewish boys in a class of 60 which was
divided into two sections.In preparation for graduation
they had class pictures.Each individual had a picture in
an arrangement.They
all went to this particular photography
studio and had their pictures taken.Then some
weeks later the picture was displayed in
the case at the photographer’s studio.The Jewish
kids were not on the picture.They had
pictures taken, but the arrangement
didn’t have any of them.
Those were the sorts of things that
(happened)…it probably would have been
intolerable to keep on living there.By then we
were so steeped in Zionism, whoever
could afford it sent their sons usually
abroad to study, to Italy and France.Not to mention
in the interim years before all this
happened when the Germans took over in
1916, a lot went to German universities.
I mentioned the town Prytyk that my
mother was from.In
1936 on market day there was a pogrom.Some Polish
hooligans overturned some Jewish stalls
and the young Jewish men fought back.I don’t recall
if there were any casualties among the
Jews, but there was one Pole who was
killed. The only ones who were pursued
by the law were the Jews.I think there were 6 of them and
they all fled abroad.
I’m not interested in white-washing what
went on in Poland, but they didn’t have
a collaborating government, probably the
only one that didn’t.If you go to Yad Vashem, more
Jews were saved than by any other
nationality, but there were more Jews in
Poland.When
I think back to our own Zionist groups
and they ranged from left to right.There were
maybe 4 different kinds, there were more
fights with the boys in the different
groups than there were with Poles. Jews
lived in Poland for many generations.
They were originally invited by King
Kazimierz in the 14th century
I think to develop commerce in a more
feudal agrarian society and that’s why
the Jewish community got a lot of
autonomy.
Things were
terrible, but who could expect what
would happen.There
weren’t that many Jews in Germany,
6-700,000 out of 75 million which is a
very small percentage.They were emancipated, the
earliest emancipation.They were also assimilated in the
last couple of centuries and it was
unbelievable that it would happen there
both because of the numbers involved,
but also because of the perception of
Germany having this high level of
culture and civilization which obviously
is only skin-deep and wasn’t even skin
deep.Therein
lies the tragedy.It
was incendiary.Not
just what happened later that was just
the outcome, but I think the progression
of this anti-Semitism that was planted
in Europe and became so explosive and so
open.Anti-Semitism
usually was a little subdued.
Timeline
Sept 1939 – Germans invaded Radom and
put punitive measures in place for the
Jews
1940 – Armbands required for Jews
March/April 1941: Ghetto formed
April 1942: Dora’s father is taken to
Auschwitz
Early August 1942:Liquidation of the small ghetto
of Glinice and the front of the large
ghetto
Dora’s grandmother, aunts and cousins
who lived at Walowa 5 were deported and
killed.
Her uncle and family who lived in
Glinice were killed.
Mid-August 1942: Large ghetto was
liquidated, forced labor camp formed
with the remaining 2000-2500 people
January 1943: Palestine Aktion
People with
close relatives in Palestine were to
register and the rumor was there was to
be an exchange for Germans in Palestine.Dora, her
brother and her mother registered.Dora’s
boyfriend didn’t.Everyone
who registered survived while those who
did not were taken away.Dora was able to get her
boyfriend out even though he had not
registered.
March 1943 Purim Aktion, murdered over
100 of the intelligentsia and
professionals in the cemetery of
Szydlowicz
July 1943Dora
and Jules married in part out of concern
that she would get sent to Palestine and
he wouldn’t.
August 1944- 3 day march and transport
to Auschwitz/Birkenau
January 1945 – 3 day march and transport
to Bergen-Belsen
April 15, 1945 – liberation by the
British
The Invasion and Occupation
It started in
September. The first three weeks were
really terrifying. We stayed home, not
daring to go out because we didn’t know
what to expect.We
knew what the situation was in Germany
with Jews next door.They bombed Warsaw for the first
three weeks and of course the planes
were flying over Radom on the way to
Warsaw.
The Germans communicated with the Jewish
community via the community leadership.Communal
things were pretty much administered by
Jews.Religious,
first of all, mostly it was religious
and there were certain legal things of a
religious nature.So
those were the people, the council of
the community, that were the first line
of communication for the Germans.
One of the early things they did was to
siphon money off.They
would arrest prominent members of the
community and you had to pay by a
certain date, maybe a week, maybe less,
hundreds of thousands of zlotys.
Otherwise they threatened the people
would be executed.
Most of the communication between the
entire community and the German
administration, which was just being set
up, was via bills that were posted on
the walls. You had to read them to know
what you had to do.Immediately there were
anti-Jewish measures. First of all they
introduced rationing and the rations
were already different for Jews than for
non-Jews, smaller. They were starting to
register everybody and new passes were
handed out, that’s when we, the Jews,
were designated as Jews.And in fact the passes were a
different color (than those of the
Poles).When
we had to register for the new passes
you had to bring a birth certificate and
there it said who you were and any kind
of identification had the religion on
it.
The next bill would tell that we had to
surrender all weapons and radios which
was pretty early, like in October.And then the
threat, if you don’t and you were caught
with any of those this was punishable by
death.Everything
was punishable by death.We couldn’t walk on the sidewalk.That was one
of the measures.First
it started by having men, men again, not
women, men had to tip their hat if they
passed a German in uniform.Then we had to
walk in the gutter, all of us.They couldn’t
enforce it until we had the armband.They couldn’t
tell a Jew from a Pole. The
Poles could tell us, but the Germans
couldn’t.
And schools never opened. Essentially
everything shut down. Later grade
schools opened.The
gymnasium never opened for the entire
duration of the war.
The soldiers were fanning out into the
street and grabbing Jews off of the
street to do some dirty labor.I think that
was only Jews, but at that point I don’t
know how they could tell.They really couldn’t.
So later as time went on, on November,
10th, 1939, Nov 11 was Polish
Independence Day, the end of WWI, they
arrested a lot of prominent Poles and
Jews.They
released them after a few days. They did
that to prevent some kind of a
demonstration because of the holiday,
the Independence Day.
Eventually
in 1940 they made us wear an armband.All Jews had
to wear an armband with a Star of David.The armband
was white.They
were very specific and very strict.The white
armband had to be a certain width and
the blue Star of David had to be a
certain size. So it became an industry.Everybody had
to have it.People
lost their jobs.There
were no jobs.Can
you imagine everything shut down?Businesses,
Jewish businesses, were expropriated.Radom had in
addition to (a) weapons factory,
tanneries.Some
of the tanneries were owned by Jews.
They didn’t throw everybody out because
they wouldn’t know how to run them.So they kept
all the people that were there, but they
put in a German administrator.My father had
clients who had tanneries.He was working as an accountant
(in one).
So all this went on in time.It wasn’t all
at once.It
took until about all of 1940. At that
time we got a German employee billeted
in our house.They
requisitioned one of the bedrooms and we
had from then on a German in our house.They didn’t
mix with us at all.
The situation for Jews became desperate
very quickly because Jews could not make
a living.Those
who had the means could buy additional
things on the black market.A black market
always emerges at a time like this.And that went
for the Poles too because businesses
were closed, offices were closed.There was no
place to work.Among
the Jews, I told you they were grabbing
people off the street or storming a
building and taking men. For more than
two people to stop on the street and
talk was very dangerous, because we
could be plotting something.
There was more communication between the
Jewish leadership and the Germans.It became a
governing body of the Jewish community.The
Germans they were on the march.At this point,
in 1939 and 1940 and early 1941 they had
a non-aggression pact with the Soviets.They were
pretty much settled in Poland and Poland
was only half of what it was before the
war, just beyond Lublin, and the rest
was in the Soviet side.A lot of Jews fled to the Soviet
Union, maybe 200,000 I think, whole
families.
They still needed workers. They stopped
catching people off the streets and the
council arranged with them that they
would deliver a certain number of people
for work every day and then the council
paid these people.At the same time the Germans
periodically were demanding more ransom.
And that’s how they were getting money
out of the community in addition to
impoverishing the people.The system was so diabolically
designed that one thing sort of followed
another.It
was a design where we were treated as
less and less human, deprivation was
such that you are beginning to think
this to be normal.It was a descending level of
normalcy.In
the end when you end up in a place like
Auschwitz there was a certain normalcy
even to Auschwitz. Because you’ve come
there gradually, in steps.
It was a little at a time.That’s not true of everywhere.Of everywhere
else it may have been immediate.I’m sure that
say in France, in Germany, in Holland,
in Western Europe they didn’t do the
same they did in Eastern Europe.They didn’t
give people a chance to get used to one
level, from one level to another.They knocked
on the door and hauled them away which
was probably much more shocking, but it
wasn’t as debilitating as what they did
to us.And
it dragged on and on and on.It became so
that one’s self respect was destroyed,
self worth nearly destroyed.It was really
destroyed for some people, but not for
everybody.
The Ghetto is Formed
And that’s when we were ordered into the
ghetto (March/April 1941).There was a little security being
in the ghetto. A certain level of
normalcy.I think we felt at first at
least, not as vulnerable, not as
accessible, because they wouldn’t want
to come into the ghetto.The Germans would have been
afraid of coming into the ghetto one at
a time. At
first they didn’t. Now there was the
council firmly established that was
taking orders from the Germans and
filling them, carrying them out and they
were squeezing us, but they weren’t at
least destroying us.It was a little safer.There were
certain institutions established.First of all a
kitchen that could take care of the
people.Everybody
had a place to exist, what kind of a
place it was, was a different story.
(Before) we had
this huge apartment that we came from.Now we were at
the very edge of the ghetto. The ghetto
extended somewhat beyond the
traditionally Jewish area.It was a small house that
probably one family owned, they had to
move out. When we moved in there were
two small rooms in the front with a
little hallway between the two rooms and
we had that, the four of us.There were two
rooms in the back and there was another
family of five.Then
there was a small upstairs with maybe
two or three rooms, there were two
families up there.We had no indoor plumbing.There was an
outhouse and a water pump in the yard.
By then there were a lot of places that
the Germans needed workers.When we moved
into the ghetto there were a lot of
people from the ghetto who worked for
the Germans.There
was a lot of black marketeering.My brother
worked in the office in the ghetto, so
did my husband, my boyfriend at the
time.I
didn’t work. I and a few of my friends
had a teacher.There
was only one teacher of secular subjects
(non-Hebrew) in town.All the others had left, gone to
the Soviet side.They
were not originally from Radom. So my
parents hired him and we were studying.We were doing
11th and 12th
grade.It
was limited because he had been a
science teacher so we got more of math
and science than literature, but I was a
voracious reader.We
still had the Jewish library (on
Zeromskiego 25)In
fact I read an enormous number of
classics at that time including Gone
With the Wind.
Then we had
another teacher of Hebrew and studied
with him, so we were kept busy, but we
didn’t work. At that time I’m talking
about being 16 and 17 in 1941.It really was
like, if they leave us alone we’ll live.It was a
little hopeful.You
have to understand that all this was
anything but normal.It was so far from normal. It was
so abnormal, but we got used to it.And really the
attitude was we’ll make it if they leave
us alone in the ghetto.Nobody could imagine killings,
nobody could imagine what they actually
and truly did and even while they were
doing it we couldn’t believe it.It wasn’t
believable.At
that stage until the end of 1941 and
maybe even half of 1942, although things
changed in 1942, we thought we would
live.There
were cases of illness. There were cases
of spotted typhus, and there was hunger
and people were dying, people who
probably wouldn’t have died otherwise,
but it wasn’t as bad as it was in some
other bigger ghettos, certainly not the
ghetto of Warsaw where there was
terrific suffering and death.
Father is Taken
And then in 1942, I think it was maybe
February, there was a raid in the middle
of the night in the ghetto and they
arrested several members of the council
and they disappeared. Then they
appointed some more members of the
council and then on April 28, 1942 there
was another raid.Now
the two rooms I told you, (one) room was
the kitchen that was divided in half and
my brother slept on a cot in one half
and the room on the left was where my
parents slept and I slept on the couch
in that room.They
were small rooms, but we still had a few
pieces of our furniture.We came from a six room house to
two small rooms so there were just a few
pieces.What
woke me and I’m sure everyone else in
the house was shooting, there was firing
outside.We
didn’t have weapons so firing was
Germans and just about at the same time,
it was 4:00 in the morning, there was a
knock on our door and my brother was the
first at the door. There was a (voice)
barking in German and he opened the door
and there was a German officer with the
Gestapo insignia with a Jewish
militiaman.There
was a Jewish militia in the ghetto, for
order, they didn’t have any weapons of
course. And the German had a list in his
hand and the militiaman said to my
father, “Please get dressed and come
with us”.My
father had sciatica at the time.He could
hardly walk.He
got up at with a cane.My father at the time was 44
years old. He got up and got himself
dressed.The
rest of us, my mother and I, I think we
were stone, we were turned to stone. We
were in such terror.I don’t even know if I was
thinking.I
couldn’t move.We
were just speechless, we were so
horrified.Because
the whole time the shooting was going on
and we don’t know. we (envision) him
dead outside and it’s a curfew hour, you
can’t even open the door.So there we sat the three of us
speechless.My
brother finally spoke up and said,
“After the curfew is over I’ll go out
and find out what happened.”In the
meantime we got a knock on the wall from
the other side and this man was also
arrested.
At six o’clock the curfew was over and
my brother left. Now we had to wait to
find out what happened.We didn’t say a word.There was
nothing we could say.We were so dumbfounded, we were
so stricken we couldn’t talk because we
were fearing the worst, that he was
already dead.Eventually
my brother came back.He had gone to the office of the
council. What he was told was they had
arrested about 200 men and they included
mostly well-known men, men who were
important men in the community.They didn’t
know what happened, but they knew that
they were shooting some and taking some
away.But
they don’t know who was shot dead on the
spot or who was taken to Gestapo
headquarters. But the bodies of those
who were shot were taken and laid out in
the yard of the hospital and so David
was told that if he wanted to know if
his father was shot or not he had to go
to the hospital and there on the grounds
were all those who were dead. So he did.
David came back and he said he wasn’t
among the dead.By
then people are coming out.My uncle, my
father’s brother, was arrested too, but
neither of them was shot.So they were at the Gestapo
headquarters and later that day the
Gestapo sent word to the ghetto to send
food, send soup for the people, so they
did and a couple of the militiamen went
with the food and saw them.When they came
back they said they were pretty beaten
up.That
night they were shipped out and that was
it. We didn’t know where.Nobody knew where.
They took them to Auschwitz, but at that
point Auschwitz wasn’t something we knew
to think about. ….Now when we found out that they
were sent to Auschwitz, that was
something, a geographic point, but we
didn’t know what went on in Auschwitz.But a few
weeks later people started getting
telegrams from Auschwitz that the person
by name had died of natural causes, I
think it might have said a heart attack.In fact my
uncle died and he did die, he wasn’t
killed if you call dying of natural
causes being in Auschwitz where they let
you die or by some violence.They weren’t
gassing people at that time. But as it
turned out people only had a three week
life expectancy in Auschwitz in those
early days, they were killed other ways.So people
started getting those telegrams.We actually
never did. Everything was rumors,and what you
were hearing you didn’t know if it was
the 50th person who repeated
it to you and it was totally different.You didn’t
know what to believe.
My father is gone and the world is very
dark.It
was still possible to give some things
to those who went out to work to trade
in for food, to sell for a little money.My brother was
still working.My
brother was studying accounting in high
school and he worked with my father so
he took the job that my father had in
one of the tanneries. So he was getting
some pay, but not much, not enough, so
my mother was selling things.In the
meantime deportations started in the
ghetto of Warsaw.Again
the rumors came.People
were risking their lives, taking off
their armband in order to go from town
to town to do some trading. So there
were people who were coming past so we
found out that there were deportations
going from Warsaw to an unknown
destination. Nobody knew where.The rumors
were, at least the Germans spread the
rumor that this was resettlement.Because of the
way the conditions were in the ghettos
where people were really starving, dying
in large numbers, so they were going to
ship them.Prior
to this the Germans attacked the Soviet
Union and very quickly ended up at
Leningrad and Moscow.
So there was fear, but we didn’t know
what was going to happen.In our house it was dark.Father wasn’t
there.We
lost our protector.Who was going to protect us?
Liquidation of the Ghetto
One night early in Augustthe ghetto of Glinice was
liquidated. It was far enough away that
we didn’t hear the shooting.There was a
lot of killing in Glinice.One of my uncles, the family
lived there, I think the whole family
was killed.Later
that morning they took a group of men
from the large ghetto to Glinice to
clean up, to dig a trench and bury the
dead.And I
think somebody told us that they saw the
bodies of my family.
The Germans came
into the large ghetto.They were short, they still had
more wagons, box cars available and they
sealed off just that small section right
in front of the large ghetto on Walowa
and they took away another 2000 people,
my whole (extended) family went. We were
the only ones left.We were way (in the back of the
ghetto).All
my family lived there at Walowa 5.That’s where
my grandmother lived.My grandmother, all my aunts and
their children lived in my grandmother’s
place in Walowa 5. The only one who
wasn’t taken was Uncle Leon.He was not
taken and my Uncle Samuel who lived near
us at the other end of the ghetto. After that on
the 18th and 19th
the whole large ghetto was sealed off
and the rest of the deportations took
place and there were only maybe 2000,
2500 people left.
Forced Labor Camp
Part of the ghetto became a forced labor
camp for those who were not deported.My brother in
1942 was 19, had a work pass, he was
working.My
husband Jules, had a work pass he was
working.His
mother was working, but his father and
his sister were deported.I at that point was working in an
army unit, we were a gardening unit so I
wasn’t even in the ghetto at the time of
deportation.There
were 100 women. They took us and kept us
there, they knew what was going to
happen so they took their workers and
kept them there so they wouldn’t be in
the ghetto and they wouldn’t be taken
away.So I
was in that group and was not in the
ghetto those two days of the
deportation.My
mother did not have a (work) pass, she
somehow was let go.
Palestine Aktion
It all came down in rumors.The rumors
were they were going to exchange us for
the Germans in Palestine, that there
were negotiations going on.They never
told us anything.There
were some things that happened later
that pointed to the fact that it was
being negotiated.The
council was ordered to register people,
to make up a list of people who had
close relatives in Palestine.That was in
early December 1942.So the council did that.My mother and
David and I were maybe 5th, 6th
and 7th on the list. That’s
how we trusted it.My father’s first cousins were in
Palestine.
Jules was
vehemently opposed to it.He thought it was a ruse and if
something happens they’ll take the
people from the list.On January 13, 1943 it was
another deportation.Very early in the morning,
everybody had to leave.We went into a huge courtyard.The building
was in front with one gate, one door
out.In
front they set up small temporary tables
with a number of SS people sitting at
the tables and they would call the
names.Every
time they called the names they were
accompanied by a Jewish militia man to
the beginning of the row.There was a no man land between
the assembled people who were already
processed and the door to that
courtyard.When
I was in the courtyard I didn’t see any
of this. Not until I came out of the
courtyard and I was watching what was
going on.Now
I’m desperate.I
have to figure out a way to get Jules
out.He’s
not coming out because he’s not on the
list.Two
of the militia men were distant
relatives and they were coming out
escorting people.I
asked one of them.There’s this no mans land, an
empty space, no one can just run out of
there and come and join the column.They have to
be escorted by a Jewish militia man.I asked one of
my relative who knew Jules, please get
him, walk with him and bring him out.He went
back in and eventually came back out
with somebody and said he couldn’t find
himand
then he said even if he could, he was
afraid because Jules wasn’t on the list.
I asked the other one when he came out
with some people and eventually he
walked out with Jules.He risked his life doing it. When
they were finished reading, it was late
afternoon.They
spent the whole day reading that list.We didn’t know
what was going to happen.It could have been us who would
have been out.They
told us to push back and they brought
out the people who were left.I still see
the faces in my nightmares. I see the
faces of these people.They were walking by so closely.And they took
them away.Several
hundred were sent away, seven or eight
hundred, all of the people who were not
on the list.
The Weapons Factory
Jules and I got married in July 1943.I was 19, he
was 23.He
was going to stay and I was going to go
to Palestine so we got married.We thought (we
would go to Palestine) very soon.Then we
decided it was too uncertain.The war was
going badly for the Germans and that
didn’t bode well for us. The worse the
war was going for them they speeded up
the Jewish thing.Staying
in the camp seemed to be a little risky.Jules had a
Polish friend from high
school who worked in the weapons
factory. At some point there were about
1500 Jewish employees in that factory.At some point
they moved them closer to
another small camp near the factory.It seemed that
the weapons factory was the safest place
to be.Jules
graduated from high school in 1938 so
this Polish friend had probably one year
of university education.He worked as a medic in the
factory.Jules
thought he would go see him and see if
he could get him and me some kind of a
job that wasn’t working on the machines
making guns.One
day Jules went and met with this friend
and he promised that if we came he would
arrange for Jules to work as an
electrician.That
summer of 1943 I worked in a small
workshop, a German workshop.This one was
making some very primitive office
furniture. I was finishing these, there
were shelves and there were little
desks.I
was doing some finishing by staining
that furniture.In
the factory the guns were packaged in
boxes, but they were very nice boxes,
nicely finished.They
had a whole department of cabinet makers
who made those boxes and so they could
use someone who’d finish those boxes so
he got me a job there.I was the first woman there.There I was
with all these guys.They were all Jews and to have a
19 year old Jewish girl working there
was a real treat for those guys. Since I
had no idea how to do this finishing
they were teaching me.I had a great time there.Jules got a
job as an electrician so wherever they
needed a change of a bulb, Jules was
wandering all over the factory so he
came to see me several times a day.It was pretty
good until one day…These wonderful
cabinet makers, specialists in what they
were doing.They
were making wonderful furniture for
those guys at the top.The factory was run by an
Austrian company, named Steyr Daimler
Pulk, a private company that was running
this factory for the German military.So their top
people had those real good cabinet
makers make dining room tables, all
kinds of wonderful furniture and little
me learned how to finish that, rubbing
it to a real high shine.And they were also making small
things.At
least on two different occasions, I was
taken by a SS man to somebody’s home to
finish, to touch up somethings there.At some point
that SS man left me alone, I could have
walked out.Where
would I go was the question. I wasn’t
going to go any place because my mother
and my brother would pay for it.I didn’t go.
But then I lost that job and they
put me on the machines in the gun
factory.I
had to work 6 in the morning to 6 in the
evening and 6 in the evening to 6 in the
morning alternate weeks.It nearly
killed me.I
couldn’t sleep in the daytime and I
couldn’t stay awake at night and it was
very dangerous.I was working on a machine.The output was
like 300 guns a day, they were small
handguns.What
I had to do was punch a little hole, a
square hole on top.The piece had already gone
through 70 machines to the time that it
came to me it looked like a gun.The machines
were semi-automatic , you set them, but
they were not precise so you had to
watch exactly where it went.And all I had
to do in 12 hours was 75 of them, 75
little holes.Can
I tell you how horrible that was, how
boring, how mind-destroying.There were two
of those machines, in two shifts it was
300.I
don’t know how I survived this.Then Jules’
friend came to rescue again and I was
transferred to a day machine., six in
the morning to six in the evening. (Sept
1943-July 1944)
There were no deportations in
that period of time.My mother and David were still in
the forced labor camp.In December they liquidated the
forced labor camp and everybody was
transferred to where the weapons factory
was.By
then they were in a different section
which was adjoining, a different set of
barbed wires.We
could see each other and we could stand
there and talk to each other (through a
barbed wire fence).On that part of the fence the
guards were Ukrainians.They were killers, they were used
as executioners.There
was one Ukrainian who let me crawl under
the barbed wire to stay with my mother
overnight.First
thing in the morning I came back and
went to work, but her bedbugs were
different than mine and they ate me
alive.
Purim Aktion
There was another action in the forced
labor camp in March 1943.They took more than 100 people to
Szydlowicz.That’s
when everybody thought this would be an
exchange.They
were all dressed up.It was a real ruse and they took
them to the cemetery and executed them.Maybe a dozen
people came back. They shot and killed
whoever was killed and those who weren’t
they brought them back.It was called the Purim action.
There was
another registration and at that time
they registered only professionals,
doctors, engineers, intelligentsia.All these
people were on that Palestine list two
months earlier.That
was the proof for us that they were
going to be exchanged.They were told to be ready
sometime on Sunday and they came in
their finery with suitcases, all dressed
up. It was a beautiful Spring day,
sunny, we’re still in the forced labor
camp.And
everybody is looking on, I’m so jealous,
and then they walked out the gate and
then something gave it away because
right after they left and boarded
trucks, the forced labor camp as you
came out, this was parallel to Reya.The truck
turned onto Reya and right behind was a
truck with black uniformed soldiers who
were the Ukrainians.Everyone knew something was bad.It wasn’t more
than 3 or 4 hours later that those that
survived came back.
Note:Dora
was sent to Auschwitz in 1944 along
with her mother.There they discovered that her
father was still alive in Auschwitz.As he spoke
seven languages he served as the
registrar which had allowed him to
survive.Both
Dora and her mother were liberated
from Bergen Belsen and reunited with
her father, brother and husband.Her extended
family did not survive.
Interview with Meyer Zucker by Philip Weinberg, his cousin
What do you remember about my
grandfather?
He used to eat in our house. He used
to go a few blocks (unclear). His name was
Meyer Gumela.. It was a
nickname. He was a very nice
man. Everybody loved him. Very
religious guy too. What did he do?
He worked with flour, a miller with grains,
wheat. All the boys worked in the
flour business, Yusel and
Dubic. My mother was a
business lady. She used to help all of
them. My father had two sisters (one was
Meyer’s mother) and two brothers.
What was your mother's name?
Beila (born in 1889) And who was Ruchal's mother?
Fayga, So there was Fayga, Baila, David and
Yusel. And my father was Schlimel.
No, Schimel. Now you had a brother. A
younger brother. How much younger
was he than you?
Eight years younger. We had two
sisters. Younger.
A childhood memory…Used to call the doctor
up...used to do when one got sick...what do
you call them... years ago. Those
glasses on your back, when you have a cold
and you're sick...what do you call
them...bankas, bankas!
When the Nazis came into Poland in 1939,
were you in school?
In 1939 I was 19 years old. At that
time I couldn't go to school. Was no
school. I used to go to school... in
accounting to help in the business.
During the war we used to have horses to
deliver the flour to the bakers. Used
to go from "marsh city (?)" to the big
capital city (Warsaw)..... I used to
(unintelligible) like 24 hours. It was
about 100 kilometers south of Warsaw.
So the Nazis got to Radom before they got
to Warsaw?
In Warsaw they were fighting, they were
fighting in Warsaw. Fighting with
those big, what do you call them, the
"isla". The Polish soldiers were fighting
with horses and they were coming with
tanks and airplanes. They were
bombing Warsaw. Did they bomb Radom
also?
Yes. I was seventeen when the Nazis
came. Once I got caught. I was
let go. I got caught once coming
home. Was a curfew. Couldn't get
into the city. I got in late to the
city and I got caught and (held) for
twenty-four hours.
I was in Auschwitz. In a big tent.
. Was selection like every day.
I have a little picture that was taken after
was liberated in 1945. I was on the
border in Germany.
I couldn't walk. I was in the
hospital. I had bronchitis. A spot on
the lungs.
How did my father connect with you?
I was living in a small town in
Germany. A guy says, you know I wrote
a letter to my uncle and he says he met a
Schimele Weinberg. He wrote a letter
to his uncle and his uncle got in touch with
your dad. They were friends
together. They played cards years ago.
Do you know what his name was?
Gooden (Goodman). Lives in the
Bronx. It was in 1945. My father went away from Europe for
so long and he never wrote anybody, so I
was surprised.
He used to send, to write letters. I
remember when I was a kid that I had an
uncle in the United States. He used to
send a ten dollar bill to his father. I didn't know that. I thought
my father completely lost his roots when
he came to this country.
What was the relationship
between Meyer Cukier (family member
who survived the Holocaust) and my
grandfather Samuel Weinberg?
Meyer’s
parents were Schmul (Cukier) and Baila
(Wajnberg). Samuel Weinberg was
Baila’s brother so Meyer was his
nephew. Schmul,
Meyer’s
father,
was
the
brother to my father Didia
(Cukier/Zucker).My father was Didia Cukier and
my mother was Talba (Tauva) Rosenberg.Baila was a
little bit red headed, a very smart
business woman.Always
dealing in flour (flour milling was
the family business).On weekends she would get
dressed up to go to court to sue
people.
Can you tell me about my
grandfather’s siblings?
Dubic
Wajnberg was red-headed and tall and
married to my aunt. My aunt Chana was
the oldest sister of my mother. Her
maiden name was Rosenberg.I thinkFayga may
have been other Wajnberg sister and
possibly the mother of Ruchal.
Yusel
Wajnberg lived next door to me when I
was growing up.He
was always joking with me when I was a
child.One
Passover I got new shoes and ran next
door to show him. He told me to tear
them up in good health and I went
crying to my mother because I thought
he was telling me to tear them up. We
got a pair of shoes and a pair of
sandals each year.
Yusel
had a son Moishe and a daughter Hannah
(Hancha).Moishe
was married with one baby and Yusel
was a very proud grandfather.I looked up
to Hannah.She
was about 5 years older
Meyer told me that the
family was in flour milling.Can you
tell me about the business?
The
family had a mill in Radom
which was run by my father and Meyer’s
father.They
made farina.There
was also a mill in Firley, a suburb of
Radom.There were
two brothers in the Zucker family who
had a small watermill on a farm 2k
away from Firley that they inherited
from their grandfather (Zucker
family).Samuel’s
brother Dubic and his son were in
business together in a partnership. Both Yusel and
Dubic worked in the business.Yusel sold
flour to bakers.
Can you tell me about
family during the war?
September
1st 1939 was when Poland
was invaded and the ghettos were
formed.Meyer’s
mother was on the farm with everyone
else to avoid the bombing in the city.
She went back into town to see if it
was all right to go back to their
homes and did some business along the
way.She
was a very brave woman.
I
was in one camp first, and then with
Meyer in Blizyn. Then both of us were
inAuschwitz.I was always
with Meyer. When they deported Jews to
Treblinka he wasn’t able to save his
parents.His
family was deported to Treblinka.His sister
and my family, my brother died in the
camp of starvation.They took my family and Meyer’s
family in the first deportation.They didn’t
have enough from the small ghetto to
fill the deportation so they also took
from the larger ghetto and that’s when
they took our families.
What did you do after the
war?
After
the war, Meyer and I were in Germany
together.He
took out papers in the name of his
brother since if you were younger they
told you there was a greater chance of
getting in. Meyer’s real name was
Leibel. (She believed Meyer was born
in 1920)Leibel
was the oldest, Sheindel was the
sister and Meyer was the youngest.After the
war I lived in Italy,
then Germany
and then came here.I met Julius (her husband) in Germany
after the war.We
were in the same camp, one camp.He knew who
I was, but I didn’t know him.
When
we (Phyllis & Meyer) were in Germany
together I gave him money to go to Poland.The family
was very wealthy.They had a villa and a
beautiful apartment upstairs and
downstairs.There
were stables and horses.Meyer sold the house, but found
that somebody else had sold the farm
with falsified papers.There was a lot of land, house,
barns, horses and cows.Sheindel had been living there.Her
grandfather and two brothers(Cukiers)
lived on the farm.
I
went into my old apartment after the
war.I
was lucky that a Polish woman let me
in.I
wasn’t able to see Yusel’s apartment.
I
was the only woman on both sides (both
mother’s and father’s families) who
survived, although I had an aunt on my
mother’s side who moved to Israel
in 1936 and there are now cousins in Israel.The aunt’s
name was Hinda Rosenberg.Her second
ex-husband Bankahad a
business with Dubic.
My
mother had a younger brother who left
for America
– Mendel Rosenberg, possibly in the
late 20s.I
think he was born around 1890.I would like
to know anything about him.His parents
were Yehudah and Chaja Rosenberg.
published by Le Manuscrit and
Fondation pour la Memoire de la Shoah, 2006
with permission of Moniek Baumzecer and Le
Manuscrit
My paternal
grandparents lived in Radom.
My grand-father, Simcha Baumzecer, the
owner of a store of fabrics, had married
Szajndla of the Dresner family, well
regarded in the city and also the owner of
a store of fabrics.
They had nine children, three girls and six
boys. The eldest daughter, Sara, had married a
tanner by the name of Rotemberg. The second,
Ester, had married a trader in leather of the
name of Suskind.I
do not know the given name of the husband of
Golda, the third,but his surname was
Goldenberg. The six Baumzecer sons: Abram my
father, born on 25 October 1889 as well as
Izak, Jakob, Shalom, Szlomo and Arom.
I remember little things about the brothers of
my father. I know that Izak had left his
parents to study philosophy in Warsaw
and that he had become a free-thinker. I also
know that the youngest, Arom, accountant for
my grandfather, had married Paula and that
they had two children.
During the war, I found Paula in tragic
circumstances at Auschwitz.
Many years after the war, during a trip to Israel,
I met Mosche, son of Yankel, and grandson of
Chaïm, a brother to my paternal grandmother.
Yankel had been deported but he had survived ;
and just after the war, he had his son Mosche
in Germany.
A year later, they had moved to Israel.
The family of my mother was from Ozarow, a
city where I have never gone, a little more
than a hundred kilometers south-east of Radom.
I remember my grandfather Samuel Meyer Fridman
who towards the end of his life lived in Radom.
With my maternal grandmother who I didn’t know
because she died relatively young, he had nine
girls, including my mother, Estera Liba, born
on 13 October 1887.
In Ozarow, my grandparents had a store, adelicatessen with
"sweets," cakes, etc. My mother remembered
helping her parents; then she was still a
child, but serving customers. I know only that
there were two older sisters of my
mother; Braindle who was married in Radom,
and Rivka installed with her husband to
Wierzbnik and who I met at the time of the
burial of my maternal grandfather. The other
sisters lived in small nearby towns such as
Sandomierz about thirty kilometers south of
Ozarow, orKlimontow,
the same distance to the west of Sandomierz,
or in Zawichost between Ozarow and Sandomierz.
I didn’t know them; however, I knew their
husbands Yankel Nomberg and Mayer Duzenman,
who came to buy fabric in my father’s store.
In 1911, my father married Estera Liba
Fridman in Radom.
After his marriage, he began to work with his
father at a fabric store known as Simcha A.
Baumzecer. Six years later, 27 November 1917,
my older brother, Lejzer Icek (Izrak) was
born. In 1921 arrived my brother Izaya, who
later in France
will be called Charles. Finally, the last,
Samuel Mayer, was born September 30, 1930.
My maternal grandfather, no doubt after the
death of my grandmother, came to Radom,initially living
with us, then at my Aunt Braindle.I remember him well.
Always dressed in an old style with a long black cloak, he
had a great white beard, as well as paiess and
stood very straight. One would have said a
Rabbi. He was a Hassid, adhering to the Hassid
movement of the rabbi of Ger.
In the morning when I arose, I greeted my
grand-father and he asked me regularly: Have
you said your prayers?
Of a new generation, my parents s
dressed in the modern way, like the Polish. I
remember that in winter my mother was wearing
a coat of lambswool/fur (?). She also wore a
hat with a small veil on the front that always
intrigued me. My father had just a short
goatee.In daily
life, when he went out, he was wearing a hat
as the regular Polish men, but for the
prayers, he wore a small hat with a black
velvet brim.
My parents were practitioners, they followed
another Hassidic movement than that of my
grandfather, one of the rabbi of Alexander.
They did not attend the synagogues of the
city: we travelled to a private house of
prayers (Sztybel), financed by some Hasidic
families, including ours, of the movement of
Alexander. Men prayed in a room and women in
another.
At home, prayers were said each day,
particularly during meals, and one ate kosher.
They respected all holidays. For the seder of
Pessah, it was I who asked the ritual
questions “Ma nishtana ha laïla hazé… ? "Why
is this night different… ? » Referring to the
exodus from Egypt of Hebrews. For
Yom Kippur, we passed the day at the prayer
house, but only adults fasted. At Shabbat, my
father would go to the office while my mother
was preparing the traditional dishes. When my
father returned home, we proceeded to the
table. My father said the prayers, candles
were lit, then came the Kiddush; we each hadour small glass of
kosher wine that we drank after the blessing.
Then we ate traditional dishes carefully
prepared by my mother: challah (plaited
brioche), gefilte fish (stuffed carp), chicken
broth, meat and compote. Of these Shabbat
evenings of my childhood, I have always been
very nostalgic.
At a very young age, I had a small talit, a
prayer shawl, with the fringes hidden in my
trousers. At the age of four, I was
entered in a Heder, a religious Jewish school,
as well as my elder brother who was seven
years old. In the morning someone from
the Heder came to find us at our home and in
the evening they accompanied us home. We
remained all day and at noon they gave us a
meal. I first learned about the Hebrew
alphabet and daily prayers, and then was
taught the siddur, the daily prayer
book. I remember a fellow of the school,
a little older than me, named Chaïm
Zucker. His father, a very pious
Hassid, acted as chohet, responsible for the
ritual killing of chickens. My friend
read smaller books that he refused to show
me saying they were not for me. Later
after the war, in Paris, I learned from
someone from Radom that the big brother of Chaïm was a
Communist and the source of the small
books. In 1936 he engaged in the war
of Spain, then he came to France where he
changed his name.
At home, a Jewish cook named Perele spoke
in Yiddish, like my parents, and prepared
kosher meals. A small Polish
Catholic, very nice, Véronika, was part
of the household. I spoke Polish with her,
as well as with my friends, all Catholics,
with whom I played ball in the courtyard
of our building. I knew Yiddish and
Polish and I learned to write in both
languages.
I observed that my friends didn't have
dietary restrictions as in my
family. I remember the images of the
Virgin Mary, illuminated by a candle
inside their homes, of which I was afraid.
I also remember a procession during a Catholic
feast day with the religious banners and the
people who were singing. I was outside
with my friends. When the procession
arrived where we were, all were
kneeling. I of course remained upright
as a Jew would never kneel. One of my
small comrades then sent me to earth with a
(kick).
I had felt no aggressiveness
in this gesture. In contrast, another
day, a buddy with whom I played insulted me
with "dirty Jew, go to Palestine!" I
fought with him even though I was not allowed
to do so.
In 1930, my maternal grandfather died. I
was ten years old and I attended the burial in
the Jewish cemetery located outside the
city. To go to the cemetery and to
return to the house, my father had rented a
dorojka, a carriage. During the
ceremony, I recited the kaddish with adults
present.
In September of the same year our younger
brother Samuel was born. His
circumcision took place on the evening of Yom
Kippur.
After the death of my
grandfather and the birth of Samuel, a major
change occurred in our lives. The previous
year, following the great crash in the United
States, a serious economic crisis had erupted
in the countries of Europe. In Poland,
and in particular to Radom, Jewish shops were
boycotted. My father therefore made
plans to leave the city. He knew
Lodz well where he frequently provided
fabrics to a German manufacturer. This
great industrial city, located 130 km
southwest of Warsaw, offered many
opportunities. It is there that my
father decided we would live.
Moishe's Family Society of Radom
by Greg R. Tuckman
O.D. & Rick Leeds
My
maternal grandfather’s family, the Austrian’s,
emigrated from Radom, Poland
between 1897 and 1928.They
came to the United States
for the same reason many Jews did during the
years between the World Wars, to escape
persecution.Passing through Ellis Island they
settled in Manhattan
and then eventually spread out to the other
boroughs.A close
knit family, my ancestors created a ‘family
circle’ in order to continue being a part of
each other’s lives.Thus,
Moishe’s Family Society of Radom was born.
Szmul
Moszek (Moishe) Austrian was born in Radom,
Poland
in 1880.The son
of Szaia Maier and Sura Swarc, he had nine
known siblings including his brother Dawid.Only half of the
children were to live through World War I and
have families to carry on our traditions.
Both
Dawid and Moishe were tailors.At a very young age, Dawid traveled to
South Africa.From there he found
his way to London
in 1901 and then on to America.Moishe is listed on
the SS New York as leaving London for the United States
in 1903, but never boarded the ship.Instead he returned
to Radom.
Having
earned enough money in London,
Moishe opened a hotel and restaurant near the
railroad station.He
and his wife, Bila, had no children, so they
were quite generous.They
donated often to orphan’s homes and their
synagogue.
Unfortunately,
Moishe was about to encounter anti-semitism.His father-in-law
owned a home nearby, and as a capmaker it was
necessary for him to own a horse so he could
peddle his wares.One
day the horse ran into the field of a wealthy
Gentile landowner who did not care much for
Jews.Moishe and
his father-in-law were told the horse would be
killed if they did not move away.They stood up for
their rights and the Gentile Pole injured the
horse.There was
a witness to this incident and the Pole was
sentenced to a few months in jail after Moishe
took the matter to court.
World
War I came and the German’s temporarily
occupied Radom
before the Russians came and took their place.The Pole, having
been released from prison, threatened Moishe
with a gun in front of witnesses.He then swore an
affidavit before the commanding Russian
general stating that Moishe was a German spy.Moishe was arrested
by the Russians, and life changed for the
Austrian family.
The
Russians came and tried to arrest other
members of the family.Moishe’s
mother and youngest brother Paul were not
home, but his sister Bila and her four
children were.The
Russians tried to take her away, but the
children screamed for mercy and for some
reason she was spared.Months
later she was arrested and sent to Siberia for a period
of three years along with Moishe’s uncle,
Emanuel.
The
family attempted to get Moishe released.They had the leading
citizens and most influential rabbis write
letters establishing his esteem within the
community.Unfortunately,
the next day the Russian troops left town
taking Moishe with them.As he was being led out of town, Moishe
drew his hand across his neck indicating he
already knew he was to be hung.
The
Austrian family continued to fight for
Moishe’s release and followed the Russian
soldiers and Moishe to Kielce
carrying a letter from the highly respected
Rabbi Kestenberg.Unfortunately
when they arrived they learned they were too
late.Moishe had
been hung.The
year was 1914 and Moishe was 34 years old.
Moishe’s
mother and brother, Paul, were forced into
hiding for a three month period until the
Russians were once again driven out of the
area by the Germans.They
were then brought before the Germans and
exonerated.The
Pole ended up spending three years in prison
in Germany,
for unknown reasons, as an undesirable.
During
this time the children of Szaia Maier and Sura
were gradually crossing the Atlantic Ocean and
restarting their lives in the New World.Dawid was there, and
he helped Jakob, Gerson, Paul, Sura and the
others enter America
where their dreams would be fulfilled.
The
story you have just read has been told to you
as it was passed down to me through three
generations.As I
researched the Austrian history I always
questioned how much truth there was behind the
story.After five
years of research and tracing the Austrian’s
back to 1727 I can now verify many of the
facts behind the story.
The
esteemed Rabbi Kestenberg indeed existed, and
I have been in touch with his ancestors.About two years ago
I sent an e-mail to JRI-Poland asking if
anyone heard of Rabbi Kestenberg, the man who
tried to help Moishe.I
received an unexpected reply from Warren
Blatt.He told me
he recognized the surname AUSTRIAN from the
Kielce Yizkor Book and sent me the following
excerpt from the diary of Rabbi Moshe Nachum
Jerusalimski.There
are truths behind those family stories.Research them and
discover your history.
Excerpt
from the Diary of Rabbi Moshe Nachum
Jerusalimski
On Tuesday (21
Cheshvan, October 28) during the middle of
the prayers, a great crowd came to me in the
synagogue with crying and wailing, for they
had heard about the sentencing of Yitzchak
Hecherman (who was known as a G-d fearing
person, an honest man) to death by hanging.The lamentation
filled the synagogue.The
children grabbed me around the neck with
weeping and wailing, which shattered me…I decided what to
do.I ran to
the official of the gendarme, who was
located in a hotel.I
saw him only for a few minutes.He wrote down the
name of those who were arrested, whose names
he knew.On the
same day, at 12:00 p.m., I went to
see the governor and his assistant.He was very
friendly to me, and he informed me that my
request that I had placed on Monday to allow
Jewish nurses in the Jewish hospital would
be granted.As
I was leaving from there, the official of
the home-police met me along the way and
informed me that there was an order from the
commandant that I must come to the jail at 3:20 p.m.My heart began to
beat loudly, as I understood that a death
penalty was to be carried out there…I do not know with
what type of powers I was able to arrive
home in peace.
When the set time
approached, as I was parting from my family,
I said that who knows if I would come home
at all.I felt
as weak as a small child…I felt that I had
no energy to hold up.Along
the way, I strengthened.I said to myself that perhaps they
had called me for something else.Only when I
approached the jail, which was on Cziste
Street near the town hall, did I see that
they had erected a large gallows there… At
that moment, my eyes became dark, and my
feet underneath me became crooked so that I
could not stand still on the spot…My friend Avraham
Wachsberg, who was walking close to me, led
me into the consular office along with some
superintendent…As
I entered, the general arrived in order to
carry out the sentence.Shortly, they would carry out the
procedures of the death sentence in the
consular office by means of hanging:Yaakov Hecherman
of Kielce
and Shmuel Moshe Astrian.They read out the death verdict to
them, and told them that they had the rights
to speak about anything.The Radomer* wrote out a will
regarding his estate.Then
they confessed**…of repentance at such a
time.The
Radomer shouted out that he was innocent of
the charges for which he had been convicted.The Kielcer
requested that I study at least one chapter
of Mishna for his soul.I requested of the general in my
name, in the name of the Radomer, and in the
name of the entire Jewish committee that he
permit them to be brought to a Jewish burial
in the Jewish cemetery.He answered that this does not depend
on him, and that one must submit a request
to the higher authorities.I did so.(However
to my sorrow, three days later, on October
30, I received an answer on an official
document, number 721, that my request has
been rejected.)Oy
Vey!I will
never forget those minutes.I mean the reading of the sentence,
the writing of the will, the recitation of
confession, and over everything, the look in
their eye…together with the shrieking and
wailing of the Radomer’s wife as they
separated her from him, and the carrying out
of the hanging outside...After I told them that they should
accept their fate, that their deaths will
serve as an atonement for all of their sins,
and that just before their deaths they
should shout out “Shema Yisrael”, I fell
down like a stone.Then
the general convinced me that I do not need
to fulfill his command of witnessing the
execution – and I remained sitting in the
consular office.(The
well-know deputy Puriszkewicz, who was at
that time present in Kielce,
stood outside at the time of the hanging.)I arrived home
greatly troubled and weakened.I lay in bed for ten days.For a long time,
that which I heard continued to ring in my
ears…For very
long did the terrible picture stand before
my eyes…
*Evidently, Astrian
was from Radom.
**Referring here to
the Jewish death confessional rather than to
a legal procedure.
Excerpt from the
diary of Rabbi Moshe Nachum Jerusalimski (of
blessed memory), of Kielce,
from the time of the First World War.Transcribed from a
Yiddish manuscript by his son David Yonah
(of blessed memory) and given to the Kielce
Yizkor Book committee in Tel-Aviv in 1956 to
publish, by his son Shamai Dov Yerushalmi
(Jerusalimski).
Translated from the
Yiddish by Jerrold Landau, 2002.
excerpt
reprinted with permission of Sandy Rubenstein
and Barricade Books Copyright
1996,
all rights reserved
Radom, where I was born and
raised, was a city of eighty thousand located
in central Poland, about sixty miles directly
south of Warsaw. Back then, it was an
industrial hub known mostly for its leather
tanneries, although the city also manufactured
textiles, steel, wood products and
china. In addition, many of the products
over which the government held a monopoly such
as tobacco, alcohol, matches and sugar were
either manufactured or distributed in
Radom. The government also built and
operated a weapons production facility that
was one of the largest in the country.
In the 1930s, Jews comprised about one-third
of the city’s population. Because of
discrimination, they held none of the
well-paid government jobs. There were
Jews in the professions, but they were
becoming fewer and fewer as it became more and
more difficult for Jews to gain admission to
the universities. As a result, most Jews
eked out a living as small shopkeepers,
tailors, cobblers and small
entrepreneurs. But despite their
position at the bottom of society, Jews were
singled out in Poland as scapegoats for the
widespread poverty brought on by the worldwide
depression. This was further exacerbated
by the xenophobic, chauvinistic, pro-Fascist,
military junta in control of the
government. Poland’s constitution, an
impressive document similar to that of the
United States, theoretically gave rights to
all, but the dispensation of justice was left
to biased courts and bigoted, unjust police
departments. The condition of Jews in
Poland in the 1930s could be compared to the
African-Americans in the rural South in the
heyday of the Ku Klux Klan.
Under these conditions I was born, the
youngest of four. My brother Abram was
born in 1920. Bluma, my sister, was born
in 1921. Eli was born in 1923 and I in
1926. My father’s name was Judah and my
mother’s Yohevet.
My paternal grandfather, Abram, died before I
was born, but I remember my grandmother, Yita,
who died in the early thirties. My
father had three brothers, Hershel, Layzor and
Maylech, and one sister, Tsipora. They
were all married and lived in Radom with their
extended families.
My mother was born in Pionki, a small town
about twenty miles from Radom, to Koppel and
Frayndl Weinberg. Grandmother Frayndl
died before I was born. Grandfather Koppel
lived in Pionki until his death in 1937.
My mother had an older sister, Tsyvia, an
older brother, Noah, and a younger brother
Mordechai. Tsyvia married a Grossfeld
and lived in Radom with her husband Aron-Meyer
and four children. Noah lived in Pulavy
with his wife Guta and five children, and
Mordechai lived in Warsaw with his wife Tosia
and two children.
A strong bond of culture and tradition held my
entire family together. Each member was
aware of his or her standing in the community
and felt duty bound to uphold the good name of
the whole family. Each member of the
family had an obligation to provide other
members with financial or emotional support in
times of need.
As I grew up, I learned that this family
interconnectedness extended in its own way to
the entire Jewish community.
The first rule I learned was never to strike
back when hit by a Catholic child. Doing so
could start a pogrom. Collective
responsibility grew out of the threat of
collective punishment. It followed the
well-established Jewish tradition of survival
at any cost until redemption and the arrival
of the Messiah.
My earliest recollection is of the day when my
father took me for a long walk to the city
park. I was recovering from a serious
illness at the time, and I believe the doctors
told my parents I needed to be out in the
fresh air. Certainly I recall feeling
important because I had my father all to
myself.
As we walked, he held me by my hand and
answered all my impossible questions.
My father was a tall man, with a dark
complexion and steel gray eyes. His
almost gray hair was always immaculately cut
and combed back without a part, and he was
always clean shaven. He walked with a
slight stoop as if he carried the burden of
the world on his shoulders. He wore gray
sharkskin suits, a lighter weight in spring
and summer and heavier woolen in the
winter. His name, as I said, was Judah,
and in my eyes he was a lion of a man.
When we reached d the park, he stopped to look
at a rectangular mark on the gate.
Clearly there had been a sign there once,
which had since been removed. I noticed that
his eyes became glazed and a sudden sadness
came over him.
“”Papa, why are you so sad”” I asked.
He pulled me past the gate and into the
beautiful park, then he bought me an ice-cream
cone and tried to talk about the beauty of
nature all around us. Bust like a
curious child, I refused to let go of the
question. Finally we sat down on a bench
and he waited until I finished my ice
cream. He then explained that the city
of Radom had once been occupied by Czarist
Russia. During that time, the
authorities affixed a sign on the gate, and
when a Polish interim government was
established under the Versailles Treaty, the
sign was removed. But the marks were
still there.
I never forgot the words which my father spoke
slowly that day, first in Russian, then in
Yiddish. “Jews and dogs are forbidden to enter
this park”.
********
The building in which we lived was home to
more than twenty families: several Polish
Catholics, the rest Jewish. Across a
wide yard was another building which housed
eight more Jewish families. For the most
part, there was an uneasy peace between the
Jews and the Poles, but there was always a
cultural and religious undercurrent that
separated the two.
On either side of the yard, to complete a
rectangle, were wooden structures that served
as garages or stables for horses and
wagons. Several families who lived in
this complex were in the transportation
business and used these stables as needed,
which meant that, when the weather was good,
there was a great deal going on in our
yard. Goods were being loaded or
unloaded or transferred from one wagon to
another, carriages came and went, horses were
fed and tended. Some of my favorite
memories are of Friday afternoons when we
children were allowed to ride the horses
bareback to the smith to have their shoes
checked.
One bright, crisp, sunny morning, I lay in
bed, wide awake and looking forward to a day
of play and fun with my friends. The
rest of the family was still asleep, and I did
not dare make noise for fear of waking
them. Then I heard movement in the
yard. Quietly, I slipped out of bed and
stuck my head out the window.
I saw a neighbor of ours, Moshke Dorozkarz
(Moshke, the coachman), come into the yard as
he did every morning except Saturdays and
holidays to get his horse and carriage out of
the stable to start his business day.
That day, when he got to the stable door, he
found it blocked by some clothing hung out to
dry. I could see that Moshke was
agitated because, after all, the clothes might
belong to one of the non-Jewish
families. He discreetly began to knock
at windows and ask to whom the clothes
belonged. At the third window, Moshke
was told that the clothes belonged to Pani
Raykowska, a Catholic Pole.
I knew the Raykowski family. Pan
Raykowski was a confirmed alcoholic, and Pani
was a nagging shrew. Their two older
sons were out of school, unemployed, and
already had drinking problems. And their
youngest son, Zbigniew, was my contemporary
and my nemesis. Even as a six year old,
he knew that he could lord it over the Jewish
kids, abuse them and get away with it. I
feared and hated him from the day I can
remember being conscious of my Jewishness.
When Moshke found out who
the clothesline belonged to, he began pacing
back and forth in front of the inaccessible
stable murmuring something to the effect that
he needed his horse and buggy to earn a living
for his wife and children. At one point
he looked up at the sky and, in the
inimitable, age-old Jewish way of conversing
with the Almighty, lifted his hands to the
heavens and asked, “Why are you doing this to
me?”
By this time, windows were wide open all
around the yard. Everyone was anxiously
awaiting the outcome of this unfolding
drama. At last, Moshke mustered enough
nerve to knock at Pani Raykowska’s basement
window and ask, in a pleading voice, if she
would please come up and remove the
clothesline so he could get his horse and
buggy. There was no response.
After a short interval, he knocked again, this
time a bit louder, and said that as soon as he
got his horse and buggy, Pani Raykowska could
put the clothesline back in the same place,
and he would not even mind.
The window opened and out popped Pani
Raykowska’s head, spewing anti-Jewish
epithets. From her abuse alone, you
could get a pretty good collection of
anti-Semitic diatribes, starting from the
two-thousand-year-old accusations of Deicide,
to the more recent Beilis Affair- in which he
was accused of killing Gentile children to use
their blood to make Matzo- and ending with
rhymed insults such as “Beduiny won do
Palestyny” (“Bedouins out to Palestine!”) and
Wasze kamienice ale nasze ulice” (“You own the
buildings, but the streets are ours”).
All Moshke could do in the face of this verbal
torrent was lift his hands to the heavens and
ask, “Dear God, did it have to be Pani
Raykowska, the worst Jew hater of all?”
As if in response to his plea, I could clearly
hear in the morning quiet the singing voice of
Pan Raykowski returning from a night of
drinking on the town. As the singing
became louder, Pani Raykowska came up from the
basement to continue her harangue, warning
that when her husband arrived he would mete
out just punishment to this loathsome Jew who
dared disturb her peace.
The drama climaxed when Pan Raykowski entered
the courtyard and, through an alcoholic haze,
slowly became acquainted with the problem at
hand. On one side, his wife, in frenzy
egged him on to break the Jew’s bones for
insulting her and for daring to disturb her
peace. On the other side, Moshke stood
shaking his head and repeating, “All I want to
do is to get my horse and buggy so I can earn
bread for my family. What’s wrong with
that?”
Then the unbelievable happened. Pan
Raykowski’s already ruddy face turned purple
with rage. He turned to his wife. “Ty
stara kurwa (you old whore), “ he screamed.
“This poor man has to get up early because he
has to work to feed his family, not like you,
you lazy bitch.” In a drunken rage, he
ripped the clothesline off and ordered his
wife to take her rags and hang them elsewhere.
A chorus of approval and applause greeted him
from the open windows. My brother Eli,
always the wise guy, shouted, “Bravo
Solomon.” Pan Raykowski actually took
his hat off and bowed like an actor on a
stage.
I have remembered this incident all my life,
when a Polish Catholic actually sided with a
Jew. I remember it because it was
an exception, the only exception I know in the
unhappy life of Jews in the Polish
Diaspora. In the end, such small
victories as Moshke’s helped lull the Jewish
community into a false sense of security for
which it eventually paid the ultimate price.
*******
In the early thirties, when I was five or six,
I was introduced to a cheder, a kind of
kindergarten school, where most Jewish
children of my generation began the study of
religious dogma. My mentor and teacher
in the cheder was Rabbi Abush whom, because he
had a red flaming beard, everyone called "the
red rabbi".
When my mother first brought me to cheder to
make the arrangements, Rabbi Abush seemed
polite and reasonable. The school itself
consisted of three classrooms strung out like
railroad cars with a small office in the front
vestibule. The first room held the
youngest group, and the last room held the
oldest. My brother, Eli, studied in the
middle room - he was about eight or nine at
the time. I was eager to stay because,
as I looked around, I saw that most of the
boys in my room were my friends. I thought it
would be fun.
I asked to be seated next to Nathan, the son
of our neighbors Issac and Leah with whom I
loved to play in the yard. It did not take
long for Nathan to disabuse me of the notion
of having fun in cheder. He warned me of Rabbi
Abush's temper and advised me to go to another
cheder even if it was further away. I
told Nathan that I was afraid to even mention
it to my mother.
My first day was devoted to learning the
Hebrew alphabet from a printed page that was
so old and crumpled, I was afraid it might
disintegrate just by my looking at it.
For the first time, I felt confined and
regimented. And Rabbi Abush changed
almost immediately from the smiling and polite
mentor of our first meeting in my mother's
presence to a strict demanding short-tempered
autocrat.
He led us with an iron hand as we learned by
rote, chanted prayers, recited passages from
the Bible and memorized important
excerpts. Each day I was expected to
remember and recite everything I had learned
the day before. We learned everything in
Hebrew, which was completely foreign to
me. And somehow Rabbi Abush always
seemed to be behind me as we swayed and
recited in unison hour after hour after
hour. When my attention wandered for a
moment, I was brought back to reality by Rabbi
Abush's firm hand across the back of my neck
or by a simple old-fashioned ear pull. I
soon had second thoughts about the whole
project, and one day I suggested to my mother
that I had had enough of Rabbi Abush and his
cheder.
In a no-nonsense voice, she said," You will do
as you are told and continue religious
school."
From the vehemence of her answer, I realized
that I was stuck with Rabbi Abush and would
have to make the best of it.
There were certain aspects of the Bible, such
as the story of Joseph and how he was sold
into slavery by his brothers, that caught our
imaginations. At such times, the power
and the beauty of the Bible seemed so great
that we loved what we learned in spite of
Rabbi Abush. But for the most part the
only thing I learned from the cheder was a
distaste for religious education.
My cheder career came to an abrupt end one day
when my middle brother, Eli, actually hit back
at one of the rabbis in his classroom.
Both of us were declared unfit and banned from
the cheder. My mother endured a certain
amount of shame from her peers, and my brother
endured his share of reprimands from my
mother, but among our friends, we were heroes.
After he had received what my parents
considered enough threats and reprimands, my
brother started private grade school, where he
continued taking religion as one of the
subjects. As for me, my mother engaged a
Melamed, a tutor, who came to the house three
times a week to keep me religiously
indoctrinated. My new teacher's name was
Reb Mendel. He was very tall and awkward
and walked with the support of a cane.
He had high cheekbones, a long bearded face,
and a relaxed manner. He wore the
prescribed visored black Chassidic cap and a
frayed and shiny black coat, called a
"capote". His shirt was white, without a
collar and buttoned all the way up to the
neck.
For our first lesson, Reb Mendel tested my
knowledge of the elementary prayers and my
reading and writing skills and concluded that
he had to start from scratch.
Every time Reb Mendel came to the house, my
mother served him a giant portion of steaming
hot soup with a hefty slice of buttered rye
bread. He would assign some work for me
while he went about sipping soup and dipping
bread.
I watched his high cheekbones move up and down
with a crunching rhythm as he ate with
astonishing enjoyment. He always left a
little bread so he could wipe the soup plate
clean. When he was finished eating, he
would take his tattler, a guider that looked
like a pencil without lead, and start me off
on that week's Bible reading. At first
the tattler was firm in his hand, and it would
stop when the reading was faulty, then
continue firmly when I corrected myself.
But after a while, the tattler began to
meander across the lines. I learned to
continue my reading chant uninterrupted until
Reb Mendel was sound asleep.
All in all, Reb Mendel was a great improvement
over the fiery red Abush.
But of course, my education, religious and
otherwise, could not stop with Reb
Mendel. My mother was proud of her
family lineage which she traced back to
important rabbinic scholars. She was
vehement and uncompromising in her quest to
keep our home strictly religious. One of
the memories I cherish to this day is the
ritual of lighting the Sabbath candles.
My mother would gather all of us in a most
beautiful and solemn ceremony, light the
candles, and bless the family with all the
strength and conviction of her abiding faith
in the God of Israel.
My father, although lukewarm about religion,
was very clear about education. For him
education was a way to rise above the trap
Polish anti-Semitism held us in. I often
remember him watching me play soccer with
other kids. I felt so proud when I did
well when he watched me. But inevitably
he would pat me on the head and say something
like,"Why don't you go upstairs and study or
read a book. Kicking a ball will get you
nowhere."
And so, since education was of paramount
importance, and since as Jews it was difficult
for us to attend public schools, our parents
enrolled the four of us in private
schools. The expense was enormous for a
family depending on one breadwinner, but the
sacrifice was deemed to be worth it.
Needless to say, our parents expected us to be
scholastic superachievers. My mother was
a master in the subtle art of praising
achievement. Every time she went out,
she always managed to bring back a tale of
some child who had won an academic prize or
was able to recite passages from the Talmud at
the age of six.
I regret to say I came to dislike these
brilliant children, whom I never met. I
loved to play with friends and often "forgot"
to do my homework. At school I
improvised as best I could, but the results
were dismal. I barely scraped by.
Often my mother lashed out at my lack of
enthusiasm and my ingratitude, and when my
father protected me (probably because I was
the youngest), she accused him of spoiling
me. I felt like a traitor to the family
cause.
On occasion, my father would take me and my
brother Eli to a bathhouse. Most Jewish
people used the ritual bathhouse called
"mikvah," but my father was a notch above that
and considered it avant-garde to use the newly
built public baths instead. For me the
evening was a beautiful and memorable
experience.
We met at my father's office warehouse which
gave me a glimpse of the mysterious world of
business he was a part of. I was
impressed with the high stacks of leather in
many colors lining the walls of the
warehouse. I asked many questions about
business and about how it was
transacted. My father was always patient
and informative. We then started our
walk to the bathhouse with me proudly holding
his hand.
The highlight of the bathing ritual was the
hot sauna after which my father trained a
cold-water hose on us. My father would
hose us down, at first with a spray. He
would gradually increase the water pressure
until we squealed with delight. After
that we would get wrapped in large luxurious
towels and enter a dark room full of cots for
a short nap. I remember always being so
excited that sleep eluded me, but I knew that
I had to be quiet and not disturb the others
sleeping in the room.
The best of such an evening was yet to
come. After we got dressed, we were
ravenously hungry. Our next stop was a
delicatessen restaurant called "Reshke's."
We were seated at one of the tables, and a
waiter came to get the order. For us,
the menu was always the same. My father
ordered a batch of frankfurters called
"parawki" and a plateful of fresh sliced rye
bread. The waiter then brought an
aluminum pot filled with water. It had
an electrical cord which he plugged into a
receptacle on the wall under the table.
He also brought mustard, sauerkraut, and
chicken fat. When the water in the pot
started boiling, the bread and frankfurters
appeared.
Then came an unforgettable eating
experience. The frankfurters were thrown
into the boiling water and after a proper
interval fished out and consumed with rye
bread smeared with chicken fat and mustard and
sauerkraut heaped on top.
I often conjured up the memory of those meals
in later years when hunger was my steady
companion.
Those were far better memories than the one
from the beautiful spring day when I was about
ten. I found myself in front of the
school, horsing around with friends, feeling a
great reluctance to start classes. As on
many previous occasions, a classmate suggested
that we play hooky and go to the city park
instead. Another boy I liked was willing
to join us, and for the moment it seemed like
a good idea.
We spent the day in the sun playing and having
fun as only ten-year-old boys can. On
the way home, I decided to stop at a
stationary store near the school to buy some
supplies. The store was owned by a
neighbor who told me that my mother had been
in the store that day to say hello. I
got what I needed, signed for it, and left
with a courteous good-bye.
Once outside I began to cry. Our house was
quite far from the school, and my mother would
never come to that side of town without
visiting it. The jig was up, and my life
was over. But I did not want to be late
for dinner. That would just make things
worse-- in our house being late for dinner was
almost as bad as being truant. So, head
hanging low, I walked home to face the
consequences.
I later learned that, when my homeroom teacher
saw my mother that day, she had greeted her
warmly and told her how nice it was for her to
come to school to explain my absence. My
mother caught on quickly, nodded in agreement,
and made an excuse for me. That
afternoon when I opened the door and my mother
saw my terrified face, she concluded that I
had already punished myself enough. Her
only comment was, "I hope this experience has
taught you a lesson you will never forget."
I didn't fully understand the importance of
education until the summer of 1938, when my
family vacationed in the small town of Pionki,
near Radom, where my grandfather owned a
substantial piece of land and a large
house. After grandfather Koppel passed
on in 1937, part of the house had been rented
out and part was kept for our family and my
aunt Tsyvia's family to use for vacations.
My father came out on Friday afternoons for
the weekend. Every Friday afternoon, I
waited for him at the Pionki train
station. The anticipation of his arrival
and seeing him alight from the train remains
to this day one of my fondest memories.
I would buy a newspaper at the station kiosk
and read it carefully so we could talk about
world news on our walk home.
There was much to talk about. Nazi Germany was
rearming at a frantic pace. Chamberlain
and Daladier were playing the appeasement game
with Herr Hitler, and England issued a "White
Paper," denying Jews the right to go to
Palestine. Polish hooligans were
throwing stink bombs into Jewish business
establishments and otherwise preventing people
from shopping in Jewish stores. When
these practices were challenged in the Polish
courts, the ruling was the infamous "Owszem,"
declaring that such picketing was legal.
Polish-born Jews were being booted out of
Germany and sent to Zbonszyn, a Polish-German
border town. America was in a deep
economic depression, politically isolationist,
with a Nazi-supporting group called the
German-American Bund marching in the streets
with swastika banners flying high.
As I discussed all those events with my
father, he remained an optimistic.
"Jewish people have had to endure Hamans
throughout history, and somehow we survived,"
he said. "Hitler is just another
Haman. He will exact a toll, but in the
long run, we will persevere."
"But father, why is the whole world against
us?" Why is there so much hatred?
Can't we do something to defend our
rights? And why can't we leave this
God-forsaken place full of hatred and
bigotry?"
He would pat my head, and his eyes would
become sad. "To leave now would require
a lot of money that we don't have.
Besides, how can we leave our place of birth
where everyone knows us, our friends, our
relatives? The little we have here
sustains us, and it is more than we can hope
for in a new country in these times of
depression."
"But how can we stay?"
"By relying on our faith and in our
Bible. Remember, we are the people of
the book."
"Bust what if that is not enough?”
"That is why we are trying to establish a
state in Palestine. And, who knows, if
not in my lifetime then perhaps in yours that
will become a reality."
One day, while walking home from the railroad
station, he gave me some very good news.
One of the Jewish soccer teams from Radom, the
"Hapoel," was scheduled to play the Polish
team in Pionki the following Sunday. I
loved to play soccer and loved to watch it
played. Two of my cousins, twins, played
striker on the "Hapoel." All week, that
upcoming match was the first thing I thought
of when I woke each morning. I even
arranged with my mother to have a basket of
goodies to hand out to my cousins and the
others at halftime.
The day of the event finally came. I was
at the stadium ahead of everybody. I
watched the bus with the Radom players pull in
and was very proud of the healthy-looking
Jewish young men getting off. I greeted
my cousins and showed them the basket that
mother had filled with lemons, apples,
strawberries, and a jar of lemonade wrapped in
a towel to keep it cool. When it was
time to play ball, the Jewish team took the
field dressed in blue-and-white jerseys and
lined up in the center of the ballpark.
My heart sank when the spectators greeted them
with hisses and anti-Semitic catcalls.
Then the Polish home team ran out dressed in
red and white, and the cheers were deafening.
Play began, and within five minutes, the
Hapoel team scored. Because I was
surrounded by Poles, I was afraid to cheer,
but still it felt so good inside. As if to
confirm my happiness, they scored another goal
within minutes. By halftime, the score
stood at 2-0.
I took my basket of goodies and ran to the
Jewish side, where I quickly distributed my
treasure trove. I was a kid in the
company of big boys, and nobody paid much
attention to me except my two cousins.
As I milled among the players, I sense a lack
of excitement. They seemed strangely
subdued for a team with a solid halftime lead.
When the whistle blew and it was time to go
back on the field, one of my cousins leaned
over and whispered in my ear, "Go home now, we
are going to lose."
I was stunned and didn’t move. As he ran
onto the field, he turned and motioned again
for me to go home.
Then I understood. They had to throw the
game to avoid a massacre, and he didn't want
me to see their defeat.
I walked home, my spirit completely
crushed. Somehow the precariousness of
being Jewish sunk in at that moment more
deeply than ever before. For the first
time, I knew what it was to be a stranger in
my homeland. I knew now that my parents
were right when they set high standards of
achievement for us. Prejudice against
Jews was the fuel that gave the incentive for
scholastic excellence. Just being good
was not good enough if you were Jewish.
That afternoon on the way home from that
soccer game, I became fully committed to
Zionism. I decided to fight hatred and
bigotry for the rest of my life, wherever it
raises its ugly head. In this I never
wavered, even though the struggle was about to
become harder than I could possible have
imagined.
excerpt
reprinted with permission of Michel Werber Copyright
2017, all rights reserved
Abusz
Werber's Path
Before the Occupation
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH IN RADOM
ABUSZ (ABUSH) WERBER was born into a
religious family on September 17th, 1908, in
Radom, Poland, which was then under Russian
rule. His father was a tailor at home, his
mother a housewife. He was the seventh of
eight children to reach adulthood; two of
them had died very young, before his birth.
He was given the name of his maternal
grandfather, who had died a few years
earlier, and his mother was, therefore,
particularly fond of him. The young Abusz
studied in a Heder, a traditional Jewish
elementary school, where he received an
exclusively religious education. He would
have preferred a general education, but his
father would not let him go to a secular
school so as to prevent him from “becoming a
goy (gentile).” He was, however, open enough
to authorize the taking of a family
photograph for his oldest son,
Isroel-Leyser, who was serving in the army
for a period of 25 years, as per the Tsarist
regime’s requirement for every male
first-born.
At the age of eleven, Abusz left the Heder
to go and earn a living, and learned the
trade of leather-cutting for shoes. The
following year, he began a general school
curriculum, attending evening classes in
Hebrew at the newly opened “Evening Lessons
(Shiyurei Erev) Society” in Radom. He was
also initiated into politics through joining
the Poalei Zion (The Workers of Zion), a
Marxist-Zionist movement that had just been
split into two branches: the Poalei Zion
Tseirei Zion, right-winged Zionists, and the
Left Poalei Zion (LPZ) left-winged Zionists.
Abusz joined the youth movement of the
latter party, LPZ, where he spent his entire
political career. In the years to follow,
driven by an unquenchable thirst for
culture, he continued his education on his
own. Thus, he ate into his measly salary to
take private lessons. Furthermore, he
diligently frequented the LPZ youth
movement’s library and resolved to read
every book in it by its numerical catalogue
order.
FROM RADOM TO BRUSSELS: A POLITICAL YOUTH
As an active member of the youth movement,
Abusz quickly climbed the ranks, soon
finding himself on the Board of Directors.
In 1925, when the majority of the movement’s
leaders was on the run, or arrested by the
Polish police, he reconstituted the
organization and became its head. In 1927,
at the age of 19, he was one of the LPZ
delegates at the first World Congress for
Jewish Culture, organized by the Shiyurei
Erev society.
Two years later, in February 1929, he left
his native country for Belgium, where Bunim,
one of his older brothers, had settled.
There, he also met up with Tsalel (Betzalel)
Kastner, a childhood friend from Radom, who
had become secretary of the Jewish section
of the MOI (Main d’Oeuvre Immigrée –
Immigrant Labor), an affiliate of the
Communist Party. As for Abusz, he
established contact with the local
subsidiary of the LPZ. At the time, the PZ
was the most powerful Zionist party in
Belgium, as shown by the World Zionist
Congres selections held between 1927 and
1939. Together, the two branches of the PZ
were by far the majority parties in
Brussels, Liege and Charleroi. They were, on
the other hand, much weaker in Antwerp.
In early 1929, Abusz was elected to the
party committee and, as head of Department
of Culture, he would develop it with his
usual zeal. Because of a lack of suitable
premises, some party meetings were held in
the home of Shlomo Zilberg, an LPZ
sympathizer, and René de Lathouwer’s father.
In October of the same year, he left for
Poland where he represented the LPZ in
Warsaw, at the Congress of Workers for
Eretz-Israel, where he was appointed member
of the Organizing Committee.
In June 1930, he returned to Belgium. There,
he pursued evening classes in Commercial
Sciences for two years and he later studied
at the Brussels’ People’s University,
alongside his political activities, while
earning a living working in the footwear
industry, firstly as a hand, and later by
setting up his own business.
It was at this time, during a party meeting,
that he became acquainted with his future
wife, Sofia (Shifra) Trocki-Musnicki, her
brother David (Dodè) and his wife, Haya
(Paulina) Avsrijtsky. Here are a few
biographical details about Dodè, Shifra and
Paulina, who were to play a major role in
Abusz’s resistance journey: Dodè was born in
Vilnius, Lithuania on September 23, 1904
into a middle-class family. His father had
progressive views. He completed the last
three years of his secondary education at
the Ershter Yiddicher real Gymnasie, the
first Jewish secondary school to offer a
Natural Sciences curriculum. Shifra, his
sister, born on March 31 1908, graduated
from the same school four years later.
Influenced by his history teacher Moshe
Erem, who stirred up a great interest in
Borochov’s ideas among his students, Dodè
joined the PZ youth movement. In 1924, he
left for Belgium where he enrolled at the
Polytechnic Institute of Ghent. Shifra
joined him in 1926 to study economics at the
Graduate School of Business Sciences. In
Ghent, Dodè formed and managed a group of
LPZ students, and became the stage director
of the student organization’s dramatic
circle. He also got in contact with the
Jewish Scientific Institute of Vilna (YIVO)
and became one of their Zamlers, a voluntary
document collector. In April 1928, still a
student, Dodè Trocki married Paulina, a
student at the Faculty of Medicine of Ghent
since 1923. Paulina Haya Avstriitsky was
born in Kishinev in Bessarabia on December
28th, 1905. During her studies, she was
active within the Poalei Zion party and the
aforementioned dramatic circle. They both
finished their studies in the same year,
receiving their diplomas (Dodè graduating in
Chemical Engineering, andPaulina in
Dentistry), and they settled in Brussels.
Dodè was an active member of the Zionist
labor movement. He gave talks in Brussels,
Antwerp and in other Belgian cities. He was
a member of the LPZ’s Central Committee in
Belgium and very active within Jewish
community institutions.
Abusz and Shifra married
in July 1931. By the end of the 1930s, Abusz
owned a workshop at 79 Andenne Street, set
back from the Courtyard of Saint-Gilles
Church. There, he made shoes and employed
several people, including his niece, Lola.
She had left Radom for Paris where her older
sisterlived. Not finding employment there,
she moved to Brussels with her uncle, Abusz,
where she was employed at the workshop until
the war-period.
ACTIVITIES WITHIN THE LPZ
Nothing slowed down Abusz’s political
activity. In 1932, he set up the youth
movement of the Left Poalei Zion, the LPZ
Youth Organization – YUGNT. At its head, he
began the political education of the young
people, with whom he often forged personal
bonds. He encouraged them to read and to
continue their education. One of these young
people, Dora Rabinowitz, remembers having
started reading the newspaper, daily,
following Abusz’s prompting. At the same
time, Abusz pursued a journalist’s career.
As well as being editor of a youth newspaper
in Brussels, he wrote a series of articles
in Yiddish for Warsaw’s Workers’ Times
(Arbeter-Zeitung), and from 1932 onwards,
among other things, he wrote political
editorials for the Paris Workers’ Voice
(Arbeter Wort), the LPZ’s weekly publication
distributed in Western and Central Europe.
One of its key concerns was the Yiddish
language. In 1935, he published “In Support
of Yiddish” in Warsaw’s Workers’ Times
(reproduced in“From Under the Pen”), for the
promotion of Yiddish in Palestine, and he
announced a campaign for the publication of
a proletarian periodical in Yiddish,New
World (Naywelt), which was to be distributed
there to counterbalance newspapers in
Hebrew.
It was also at this time that he published
two brochures outlining the party’s
ideology. The first, signed by his first
name, is entitled “Our Call”(“Unzer Ruf”).
It came out in November 1935 and addressed
the young Jewish worker. Here are some
excerpts: “... The youth movement YUGNT is
addressing you in this period when
reactionary regimes are trampling over
your existence and human dignity...” “... The economic situation of
the Jews is disastrous, not only in
fascist countries, but also in countries
with a bourgeois and democratic
government. In Belgium, the new measures
against foreigners have cost tens of
thousands of workers their jobs…”
It is followed by a discussion about the
political situation and the dangers of
fascism that manipulate the world and lead
to war. Abusz expressed the party’s position
which opposed the creation of popular fronts
in which the proletariat does not set the
pace. “The LPZ and its youth movements in
Europe have struggled for decades,on the
one hand, to meet the economic, cultural
and political needs of the Jewish masses
and of the proletarian youth in their
environment and, on the other hand, to
find a territorial solution to the Jewish
problem in Palestine, while pointing out
the positive role that Palestine plays and
will continue to play in the process of
normalization, and in the fight for the
liberation of the Jewish working nation
worldwide.”
The aim of this approach was to maintain
close ties between the party and the Jewish
workers commonly referred to as the “Jewish
Street” (“Yiddishe Gas”). In September 1937,
Abusz Werber was sent to Paris as delegate
to the Congress for Yiddish Culture,
organized by the Association for Yiddish
Culture, an American association with
communist leanings. At the same time, he was
forced to step down as leader of the youth
movement because his activities within the
party consumed all of his time. That was
when he created several party institutions
including the “Folks Klab” (People’s Club),
and the “Shul un Dertsiung” (School and
Education), of which he became the first
secretary general. He trained managers who
were to be active members within the many
community institutions.In a rare photograph
from that time he is seen with his wife and
several militants, along with Yehuda Tiberg,
who was, then, leading the LPZ.
It was also in this very year that Abusz
returned to Radom for a brief visit. He
wanted to introduce his wife to his mother,
a widow of two years. Abusz maintained close
ties with his family members as far as
possible, and never stopped honoring their
memory, in his own way.
In 1938, Abusz and his brother-in-law, Dodè
Trocki, represented the LPZ at the Council
of Jewish Associations of Brussels.
Established the year before, this body
brought together twenty-seven organizations,
from communist to religious Orthodox. His
mission was to deal with the numerous
problems facing the Jewish community, from
the legislation on foreigners’ work, to
their legal representation in face of the
threat of deportation, not
forgettingwelcoming in the Jewish refugees
fleeing Nazism. Abusz and Dodè were members
of the Culture Committee of this council.
They then established the Jewish People’s
University. There, Abusz taught the history
of the Jewish labor movement and Jewish
sociology, and Dodè, Jewish history.
Moreover, it goes without saying that Abusz
published articles in the new
organization’sweekly, Unzer Yeshuw (Our
Community). In December 1938, Michel
(Moishele in Yiddish), Shifra and Abusz’s
only son, was born.
Eventually
in 1940 they made us wear an armband.
t job and they
put me on the machines in the gun
factory.