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Barnanovichi - New Era

As the city grew and quickly developed, a large slaughterhouse was built at the other end of town, so we moved in that direction, so that father wouldn't have to walk far, especially in winter. Only when I visited Baranovichi on the way to Palestine in 1932 did I find the family in their own home at 17 Sadova St., with a barn and a nice garden. (On this visit, I was traveling with little Helen, my oldest daughter, and had planned to leave Mom and Helen in Baranovichi while I went to Palestine to build a home. But the Polish police came to the house almost daily to check up on me. When father protested, the policeman said, "To Nasha Polska", meaning, "It's our Poland, and we will come to your house whenever we feel like it." After about three weeks I left, with Mom and Helen.)

Neighbors – good and bad!
We didn't stay long in that first apartment, since we had a cruel neighbor who was a blacksmith. The outhouse was close to his fence. He had three sons who worked with him, and their favorite pastime was to watch when my mother went into the outhouse. Then they would shove a red hot iron through the wooden boards and scare the life out of her. In this apartment my mother gave birth to a little girl, who did not live for more than a year.

I remember a neighbor who lived across the street – Shlome "Der Porush” Block , and his red-headed wife Chanah. A porush was part of an ascetic group who devoted his life only to Torah and not to worldly matters. His wife made the family living by boiling bones for making candles. They were childless, and it seems that they were very sad over it. They tried everything to have a child. I remember once he brought from the slaughterhouse the male organ of a bull, which was cooked. Shlome drank the broth, but it did not help. My parents were very close to this couple, who eventually moved to Jerusalem when the Turks still ruled there. They settled close to Me'ah Shearim. I visited them in 1922, and slept there for one night. I had slept in their home (the one in Baranovichi) once before, when my little sister died. These people eventually adopted a boy in Jerusalem. In the early 1930's I visited them again. It was a Thursday, and I noticed people moving in and out of the kitchen, talking to Chanah. I finally learned that Chanah had a fund for "matan b'sater", giving charity that is inconspicuous. People who were embarrassed to ask for help would come to her and get a ticket to the grocery for a certain amount of food, according to the size of their family. I made it a habit to send a few dollars for the fund every now and then.

Each town had its own meshugoyim (crazy ones), and we had two. The meshugoyim usually slept in one of the synagogues, on the benches near the stove.

Mendel der Meshugener was a quiet man. People fed him willingly. He wore an old hat and dilapidated clothes. Our other meshugener was Vashke. He was a young man, and some said very learned.

Vashke was vicious. He could swing at you for no reason, and if someone teased him, as happened often, he ran very fast, caught his victim, and beat the hell out of him. He also remembered his enemies. Many boys feared his fists and would walk on the opposite sidewalk to avoid meeting him. His main hangout was in the Big Shul.


Characters – Tales – Visitors
We also had all kinds of characters in Baranovichi. One claimed that he was a great-grandson of the Vilner Gaon, and told miracles about him. One story was that someone tried to desecrate the Gaon's grave, on which there was a little building. This was the usual practice over the grave of famous people, and was called an "ohel" (tent). To get back to the Gaon, as the man touched the grave, his hand became stiff. He could not bend his hand until he begged forgiveness from the Rabbi in Vilna, and pledged charity.

These kinds of stories were told by overnight guests, and would fascinate the children. A guest cantor or a "magid", after performing in town, had a group of "ba'aleh batim" go and collect money for the guest, usually from the people who belonged to that particular synagogue. But I remember a very famous "magid" who talked in the big synagogue. The place was so jammed with people that one couldn't get in or out. People were hanging on the windows. The collection was made on the spot and a large sum of money was gathered. The "magid" was not only an orator, he hypnotized the audience. Such speakers were very rare.

Once a cantor came to Baranovichi for Shabbat, and naturally he stayed with us. On Friday he asked mother to prepare a whole chicken for him, and said he would pay for it. It sounded strange, but mother did so, and he asked her to place it in the "cahelke", a special place in the oven where he could get to it by himself. He got up early Saturday morning before going to synagogue, and consumed the whole chicken. But he really had a good voice, and it paid him well for all he ate.


School – Teachers
When I was six, I began school. My teacher, Mr. Kusherovsky, was a tall, bearded man who resembled Herzl. (In later years, I joined the Tz'eirey Zion Party, a socialist Leninist party to the right of the Poalei Zion, of which Mr. Kusherovsky was also a member.) The school was a corner house near the market square. Winter days in that part of the world are short, and by 3:30 P.M. it was dark. The snow would pile up high and remain on the ground most of the winter. Paths were shoveled through the snow, and formed tunnels with high walls on each side. Going home from school one day, I walked hand in hand with a little girl my age who lived near us. Our parents had ordered us to go home together. Of course we got lost, since we couldn't see over the walls of snow. Search parties found us wandering around.

As I grew older, I moved on to a different teacher – Mr. Misilevsky – and a different school. It was a modern Hebrew school, with subjects such as arithmetic, science, poetry, and composition, all taught in Hebrew. I was later told that it was mostly due to the influence of my oldest brother, Yikutiel, with the sympathy of my father, who decided that I should not go to Cheder, the old-fashioned school where the emphasis was on the study of the Talmud and the language used was Yiddish. Misilevsky and his daughter were excellent teachers, and I made good progress in Hebrew.

As Baranovichi grew, a big Yeshiva was formed as well as a smaller one. The latter was called the "Musar" Yeshivah, and was basically concerned with teaching good morals, mitzvot, and proper prayer. Bachurei yeshivah (Yeshiva students) flocked to Baranovichi. They had to eat and sleep, so they ate "tag" – a day here and a day there. Each housewife felt it her duty to adopt a boy or two for one day week, or for a Shabbat. In our house, three boys ate one day a week. Mother wanted only boys who behaved well. Some would even get a few kopecks that day.

I remember a childish prank of mine. The maid used to bring me lunch, consisting of hot cocoa, buttered bread, a soft-boiled egg, and a piece of fruit. During summertime, we would eat outside and one of the girls began teasing me. I ran after her, and rubbed the soft-boiled egg into her hair… shame on me.


The Bailis Trial
I learned to read Yiddish in 1913, during the famous Bailis Trial (Blood Libel Trial which took place in Kiev.). Jews were accused of killing a Christian boy and using his blood in baking Passover matzot. The trial of the accused man, Bailis, took a long time, and his lawyers did their best to defend him while the Czarist regime did all it could to convict him. He was finally freed and moved to America. This trial stirred Jews to the highest degree. If he had been convicted, a series of pogroms would have spread throughout Russia. The radio did not exist then, and the only available information regarding the trial came from the Jewish newspapers, which arrived by train from Warsaw. People waited anxiously at the station to grab the newspaper, especially to read the speeches by the defense. When the papers came to us, my father would gather the family around him and read aloud, telling us each time to remember this trial all our lives. One day I got hold of the Yiddish newspaper, and after a few questions, started to read. All I had to know were a few rules, such as an aleph is an "a" or an "o", a yud is an "i", an ayin is an "e". And that's all there was to it. But my Hebrew from school influenced my whole family. My parents overheard me one night, talking in my sleep in Hebrew. Being ardent Zionists, my father and older brother suggested we try to speak Hebrew at home. I was delighted and it worked for a while, but it was difficult to get along with mother who could not converse in Hebrew, and the experiment failed.


A Big Scare
Once before WWI, I remember a big scare. Near the synagogue was situated a "hekdesh" and a Talmud Torah, and a shack where funeral implements were kept. Naturally we were afraid to pass nearby and see those implements in the shack. The "hekdesh" served as a public place where poor people could sleep overnight. Some sick ones remained there until they died. mother would often send me with a dish of soup or some meat for a sick person. The stench inside was terrible, but I had to go. Then one day mother cleared a bedroom and took an old woman in. Mom tended to her, fed her, and after a while, the woman got sick. Mother would clean and wash her. One day I came home from school, opened the door, and saw the woman on the floor with two candles burning near her head. My shock was great, and I screamed and fled. It later turned out that my brother was to have watched for me to keep me out of the house, since we were Cohanim and as such are not allowed to be in the presence of the dead. But my lookout overlooked me. After the funeral, the house was washed and cleaned and we returned the next day. A woman whose job it was to make the burial shrouds, came and put a needle with white thread left over from the dead woman's shroud, in my lapel, saying that it was a "segulah" (amulet) for a long life.

That particular bedroom remained empty for a long time. Finally brave Rouvke (me) said that he would move in there. My bed was put there, and I must have slept there for two or three nights, when I awoke in the middle of the night screaming and sweating. I said that the woman had come and choked me. And that was the end of my bravery.


The Buck "Kaziony”
I recall that there were many goats in the town. A large buck was named Kaziony, which means "belonging to the government". He roamed the streets freely. If he managed to get into a garden it meant ruin. He was powerful. Brave boys would grab him by the horns and ride him. But woe to you if he caught you from behind without your noticing him. Your behind was a perfect target for his horns. This buck was once maneuvered into the Big Shul, where he was driven crazy for hours, chasing and being chased around the central Bimah.