Cantors Assembly Journal of Synagogue Music

July 1988 . Tammuz 5748 . Vol. XVIII . No. 1

From the Editor

Jack Chomsky 3

On the History and Technique of
T'kiat Shofar

The Music of Falashas

The Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus
(Reprinted with permission from the September
1 984 issue of American Jewish History, published
by The American Jewish Historical Society.)

A Musical Bridge Between Israel and
Los Angeles

Kol Sason: A Complete Wedding Service
(Review)

Music Section:
Malchuyot. Zichronot, Shofrot

Organ Prelude for Yamim Noraim

Guylene Tree Clark 5

Robbie Solomon 9

Robert Snyder 1 1

Robert Srrassburg 29
Warren H. Brown 32

Paul Ulanowsky 33
Jacob Beimel 53

VolumeXVIII, N umber 1
J uly 1988 I Tammuz 5748

editor: J ack Chomsky

editorial board: Ben Bdfer Stephen Freedman, Paul Kowarsky Sheldon
Levin, Saul Masds, Robert Scherr, David Silverst&n, Pinchas Spiro,
David Tilman, Abraham Salkov.

officers of tre cantors assembly: Solomon Mendel son, President; Robert
Kieval, Vice President; Henry Rosenblum, Treasurer; Chaim Najman,
Secretary; Samud Rosenbaum, Executive Vice President.

jovrsal of synagogue music is a semi - a n n u a I pu bl i cati on The subscrip
tion fee is $15.00 per year All artides, communications and subscriptions
should be addressed to J ournal of Synagogue Music, Cantors Assembly,
150 Fifth Avenue New York 10011.

Copyright © 1988, Cantors Assembly

FROM THE EDITOR

J ack Chomsky

With this issue of thej ournal of Synagogue Music I begin my tenure
as Editor, I wish, first of all, to pay homage to the yeoman's work performed
by my predecessor Abraham Lubin. We all owe him a debt of gratitude
for the many, many hours which he devoted tothej ournal.

It is my hope that you will find the J ournal to be a source of many use-
ful things-historical articles and data, old and new music, discussion of
new works and ideas, a repository of scholarly work, a forum for
philosophical discussion, and even, perhaps, a place to read pertinent
fictional works.

How many of these areas can we explore successfully? That depends
on you. I invite you to share your work and wisdom with your colleagues.
This means taking the time and effort to write at some length about
projects or ideas which are important to you. It means sharing with me
work which is done by others which might be of interest to our reader-
ship. We are so dispersed around the country and the world that it is impos-
sible for one person to be aware of all of the creativity and research being
carried on. Please be my eyes and ears!

If you wish to submit material, please send it to me at Congregation
Tifereth Israel, 1354 East Broad Street, Columbus, Ohio 43205. If you
would like to discuss an idea for an article or share thoughts about some-
thing you've heard or seen, call me at (614125323523. Each of us has our
own unique combination of talents and interests. By sharing with each
other, we can all grow and serve our congregations and our people more
nobly than ever.

This issue of the J ournal includes, as its major article, a reprint from
the American J ewish History quarterly of an article by Robert Snyder,
'The Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus: Politics, Ethnieity and Musical Cul-
ture." I found this to be a very interesting scholarly artiele. The Folk Cho-
rus was not a synagogue chorus. In fact, it is fair to say that many of the
people (if not most or all) who participated had no positive relationships
with synagogue. Why then does this article appear as a feature in the
journal of Synagogue Music? I believe that it belongs here beeause it is
a reflection of the distance we have traveled in the last 20 or 30 years. For
the children and grandchildren of those who sang in groups such as the
Paterson Chorus are in many cases singing in our choirs today, or have
assumed important lay leadership positions in our religious communi-
ties. This is an indication of the way in which the American J ewish com-
munities have come of age. Those who once sought to scrupulously avoid

the religious aspects of their heritage have been succeeded by generations
which feel differently.

Sadly, it is also a reflection of how much less music is performed today
in our communities by our people as a whole. Thirty years ago there were
synagogue choirs, community choirs, and political choirs. Today there is
little remaining activity for the non-professional. This article serves as
an indication of the sort of direction which I am willing to pursue as edi-
tor; to expand our horizons to consider matters not directly related to our
calling which are nonetheless pertinent to evaluating our cultural
heritage.

Also in this issue: 'The H istory and Technique of T'kiat Shofar:" a short
article on 'The Music of the Falashas," reviews of new works by J erome
Kopmar and Michael Isaacson, and a complete traditional setting of the
chants for "Malchuyot, Zichronot and Shofrot," reprinted from a 1920 pub-
lication of the now defunct Metro Music Company by Hazzan Paul
Ulanowsky, and an elegant organ prelude for theYamirm Noraim byj acob
Beimel reprinted from his short-lived quarterly journal, '"Jewish Music".

I hope to be publishing a broad range of material in upcoming issues,
but I depend on you for guidance and content. What do you want to see
in thej ournal? Let me know. Even better, send it to me!

Best wishes for a Shanah Tovah.

-Jack Chomsky

ON THE HISTORY AND TECHNIQUE
OF T'KIAT SHOFAR

This past year our Temple, B'nai Israel Congregation of Sacramento,
California, was searching the community for a person to blow the Shofar
on the High Holy Days. Our friend and musical colleague, Carl K. Naluai,
the Hazzan at B'nai Israel, approached my husband, Peter, and me. The
distinction of being entrusted with this most sacred responsibility was
a great honor; one which we hoped to be able to adequately fulfill.

The next months saw our lives consumed with the numerous tasks
necessary for the preparation for this task. I was busy pulling files from
my previous research work on the subject while Peter began his calcula-
tions on the Shofar which had been loaned to him by Carl Naluai. It was
a beautiful instrument, but needed work to bring out its full potential.

At the suggestion of Cantor George Wald, Cantor Emeritus of B'nai
Israel, we would I ike to share some of the findings of our historical and
technical research in this area.

The recorded historical origins of the Shofar are found in the written
cuneiform documents of the Semitic Akkadian tribes ca. 2300-600 B.C.E.
The instrument was originally called a sapparu, named after the species
of Ibex from which the horn was taken. TheAkkadians allocated the term
tikki to the blast or warning signal which was played on the instrument.
In Mari texts ea. 1750 B.C.E., the heralds 'sound the tikki' to warn the
city inhabitants of impending danger.

The Hebrews acquired this instrument and its usage from these
Semitic people. The term given to this ritual instrument was Shofar.
Although some have tried to explain the etymology of the root as mean-
ing something that is hollow, e.g., a hollow ram's horn, I believe differently.
Historically, as cultures develop and acquire their peculiarities, they bor-
row and modify not only words, but customs to fulfill their needs. In regard
totheAkkadian sapparu, theHebrews borrowed the idea of theinstru-
ment and slightly modified the name. They used the root shin, pey, resh,
meaning to be bright, for two reasons. First, it was a similar sounding
word to that of the Akkadians, and secondly, the term portrayed the notion
of the horn being bright or having a brilliant or majestic sound.

Guylenc Tree Clark is studying for a Ph.D. in Musicology of the Ancient Near East at
the University of California, Berkeley.

Although the instrument originally was connected with magic and
sorcery similar to musical instruments of other primitive cultures, its
powerful sound becameuseful in other manners. As the Akkadians had
allotted the horn to the role of a signal instrument primarily in war, so
did the Hebrews as chronicled in several passages of our Scriptures. As
the culture developed, the role of the shofar became prominent in both
religious and public affairs of ancient Israel. Although the intent was
primarily to arouse the people with its powerful sound, the musical ity
in its performance became important as well. The instrument is histori-
cally chronicled as being used not only as a signal instrument, often from
hilltop to hilltop, but also used in ensemble fashion and anti phonal
performance.

From documented historical evidence, the sound of the shofar was a
tremendous and artistically accentuated musical sonance. Following the
destruction of the Second Temple, the rabbis defined the performance in
religious ritual ordaining the various shofar calls to mimic the sigh of a
broken heart and the whimpering of a weeping soul, preceded and followed
by straight sounds. In so doing, the earlier sound quality of this instru-
ment was obscured over the centuries.

In order to reconstruct the ancient tradition of performance tech-
niques on shofarot, one must first understand the acoustical physics of
the instrument. First of all, one must take into consideration the physi-
cal characteristics of the player, including the body size, mouth cavity and
lip structure, all predetermined factors which cannot be altered. There-
fore, to maximize the efficiency of the generated tone, the shofar must be
altered in specified ways. Modifications will be different for each player.

The mouthpiece area consists of several qualities which determine the
playing characteristics, each relating to one another with minute modi-
fications capable of drastically altering the resulting efficiency. (1) A wide
rim makes the production of low notes easier and gives greater endurance,
but tends to dull the tone whereas a thinner rim facilitates ease in the
upper register and gives greater sensitivity and accuracy. (2) The inner
edge of the rim when well-rounded aids in production of smooth slurs
while a sharp inner edge will aid in the production of clear attacks. (3)
The cup width is dependent upon the structure of the lip muscle, its defini-
tions, and the type of tissue. (4) The limits of the size and shape of the cup,
its width and depth, are determined by the efficiency of the player's air
stream and the shape of the mouth cavity and body size. A straight-sided
cup gets a smoother and lighter quality sound while a bowl-shaped cup
tends to produce a more resonant sound. A shallow cup funnels the air
stream more directly through the bore while a deeper cup absorbs energy;
the former producing a harder and brighter tone than the latter. (5) A wide

bore produces a large volume, but can tend to spread the tone. A smaller
bore results in a more concentrated, although smaller tone. (6) The shape
of the backbore, its length of straight area before opening up into the horn,
controls the pitch and steadiness, (7) The relationship between the bore,
cup size, and backbore determines the intonation of the instrument,
whether or not the harmonics are in tune although the fine-tuning of each
pitch is ultimately regulated by the embouchure.

All of the aspects are directly related to the player's body characteris-
tics and the characteristics of the shofar, its length, thickness, and shape,
What works well for one player could be the complete opposite of what
another player would need. With a modern brass or wind instrument,
mouthpieces can be made in every conceivable shape and size and then
placed into the instrument for trial until the proper one is found. In con-
trast, the mouthpiece of the shofar, which must be non-detachable, has
to be gradually carved out little by little, experimenting with the numer-
ous parameters, until the optimum has been achieved. One wrong carv-
ing in any area could be devastating, making the instrument unusable
by the player.

As previously mentioned, the ancient use of the shofar was often in
an ensemble setting using two or more. This poses a problem that, with
modern application in religious usage, has been completely overlooked.
That is the problem of tuning the instruments. A sound is produced by
an instrument when theelastie body is vibrated, displacing it from its
normal position. This develops internal forces that tend to restore the body
to its original position and beyond, then reversing the action. The vibra-
tion produces a composite of tones termed harmonics which are relative
to the diameter and length of the vibrating body. The lowest harmonic
istermed thefundamental. The frequencies of theother harmonics are
multiples of the frequency of the fundamental. Instruments of different
sizes and lengths would produce a different set of harmonics. If the instru-
ments were carefully calculated for size and the mouthpiece area appropri-
ately carved, it would be possible to obtain shofarot which could play in
unison or, to the surprise and delight of the present day listener, shofarot
which could be played in harmony.

With the recent discovery of music theory texts from ancient Near
Eastern cultures written on clay tablets in cuneiform script, we now real-
ize that they had a highly developed music system. Among their numer-
ous scales and modes are found many which we use today, including what
we term our major scale as well as many of the modes supposedly defined
by the Greeks. If one were to hear this ancient music, it would not sound
as foreign to our modern Western ear as previously thought. Although
analogous documents do not exist from the early Hebrew culture, it is

reasonable to suggest the existence of a similar tradition. Their music
theory is not documented, but amazement of foreigners upon hearing the
Hebrew musicians is chronicled in documents from outside cultures.

I n order to perform with agility worthy of foreign recognition in the
ancient world, it is not unreasonable to conclude that the musician must
have truly understood his instrument and spent countless hours in prac-
tice and preparation for performance. It is this understanding and tech-
nique that we are trying to recapture. The challenge of playing the shofar
with acute technical proficiency and just intonation is doubled when the
instruments are coupled. This is our challenge. In the tradition of those
musicians of ancient Israel, we will continue to pursue the art so as to
perpetuate this almost forgotten form of musical expression.

THE MUSIC OF THE FAIASHAS

robbie Solomon

The story of the Ethiopian J ews has been a fascinating onetothej ew-
ish anthropologist from early on. And one of the results of Operation
Moses is that much of this investigation can now be conducted in the rela-
tive comfort of Israel, rather than in the remote wilderness of Gondar and
Kish. The customs and religious practices of this community, isolated as
it was for thousands of years, gives us a rare glimpse into the origins of
our people.

Unfortunately, these traditions have come under fire from the reli-
gious establishment in Israel, as they are based on Biblical law and do
not recognize rabbinic authority. Consequently, the anthropologists will
have to work quickly to document them before they are absorbed totally
into the mainstream of Israeli religious life. Rabbi MosheTembler, in a
lecture on the customs of Ethiopian J ews, stated that just as Israel
managed to obliterate the uniqueness of the Yemenite community over
a period of years si nee their arrival in 1949-50, they are accomplishing
the same assimilation with the Ethiopians in a matter of months,

Music, on the other hand, usually fares better against the pressures
of assimilation. While Ethiopia may not yield the wealth of music that
came out of Yemen, we can certainly expect to see a sequel to the study
made over twenty years ago for the ethnic Folkways series." This record,
entitled, 'TheMusicoftheFalashas, "was recorded in the field with a hand-
held tape machine. It features non-professional singers singing such
prayers and chants as Adonai for theShabbat or Adonai for the Weekday.
Amharic, and the singing, anti phonal in style, at first sounds equally
foreign to our ears.

However, it would be unfair to judge the music of the Ethiopian J ews
as unsophisticated, based on these few field recordings. Israel is finding
that their original assessment of this community as primitive, is wrong.
They are an extremely intelligent and adaptive group who have the poten-
tial of being highly successful in Israeli society. J ust so, on closer listen-
ing, the chants presented on this early study yield some surprisingly
powerful and beautiful melodies. I took the liberty of transcribing one of
them and settingthe melody to a familiar text, Psalm 29. It uses the pen-
tatonic scale typical of much of African music, and is set in an anti phonal

Cantor Robbie Solomon is the Hazzan of Temple Sinai of Sharon, Massachusetts
"Folkways Records, 117 West 46th Street, New York, NY 10036

arrangement as on the record. I believe you will see that the music of the
Ethiopian J ews may one day be a fertile source for the composer as well
as the musicologist.

HAVULADONAI Psalm 29

based on an Ethiopian chant

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The Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus:
Politics, Ethnicity and Musical Culture

Robert Snyder

During the Twenties and Thirties, Zisha Walkowitz worked be-
hind a sewing machine in Paterson, N.J., supporting a family of six
in their three-room, cold-water flat. An immigrant Communist
devoted to the Yiddish language, his daughter recalls that he always
grew happy thinking of the after-work hours he spent singing with
the Freiheit Gesang Ferein, Paterson' s seventy- voice left-wing Yid-
dish chorus.'

"When I go to the chorus, it's a holiday," his daughter remembers
him saying. "I forget about my boss and 1 forget about the eight
hours I'm sitting at the machine and I get a rebirth.'" During the
Twenties and Thirties, Zisha Walkowitz and his Yiddish -speaking
comrades in the Paterson Freiheit Gesang Ferein (later Paterson
Jewish Folk Chorus) were central to the rallies, celebrations and
concerts of the Paterson Communist movement. Their group was
part of an international network of left-wing choruses. Fusing radi-
cal and ethnic culture, they created an alternative to mainstream
American culture that reinforced their political commitments. Their
story embraces two major themes: the immigrant encounter with
American society and the history of American radicalism.'

As Jewish radicals, the singers performed in Yiddish to celebrate
a socialist vision of American society. They sang to gain converts
to that vision and to reinforce the beliefs of those who already
shared it. In his studies of American Populists, Lawrence Gooduyn

I owe special thanks to the people whose Interviews made this essay possible:
Joseph Walkowitz, Belle Bernstein, Esther Liss and Isidore Geller. Thanks also to
Jerry Nathans of the North Jersey Jewish Historical Society who directed me to
some helpful infor mation on Paterson Jewish history filed at the Young Men's
Young Women's Hebrew Association of Wayne. New Jersey. I am also indebted to
Mrs. Helena Bokor of Passaic, N.J. who translated songs and writings from the Yid-
dish for me.

1 Interview with Belle Bernstein, Fair Lawn, New Jersey, October 9. 1980. Also, in
this essay, left refers to the Old Lets movement of the Communist Party and its
supporters.

2 Bernstein.

3 Interviews with Bernstein, October 9, 1980; Isidore Geller, Paterson, N.J.. Oc-
tober 17, 1980; Esther Liss, Wayne. N.J., February 21. 1981; and Joseph
Walkowitz, Fair Lawn, N.J., Octobers. 1980. Also, more generally, Paul Buhle,
"Jews and the American Communist Party the Cultural Question," Radical His-
tory Review, 23, (December, 1980) and Arthur Liebman J<
York: 1979).

Mr. Robert Snyder, a doctoral candidate in Anie

has described this process as building a "movement culture" that
questions and confronts reigning political ideologies, institutions
and relationships. According to Goodwyn's analysis, successful
democratic movements create their culture in autonomous institu-
tions where people can forge and sustain assaults on the established
order. The Populists formulated these challenges through
newspapers, lecturers and the People's Party. Communists relied on
the Communist Party and a constellation of choruses, newspapers,
clubs, theatre groups, athletic teams, and summer camps which to-
gether formed a distinct Communist culture.'

Both groups confronted the same problem: how does a move-
ment proposing radical change break into the center of political dis-
course and communicate with the unconverted? Protestant, Anglo-
Saxon Populist farmers from the South and West fought to reach
the largely Catholic, immigrant working class in the urban North. 5
Jewish, Yiddish-speaking immigrant Communists struggled to
reach Gentile, English-speaking Americans who were generally in-
different to Communism or at worst violently hostile to it. At mo-
ments the Populists and the Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus adopted
similar strategies: they both claimed legitimacy through links to the
dominant culture. Populists described their platform as "manly and
conservative." They celebrated their Farmers' Alliance in mile-long
wagon trains which proclaimed that "the Fourth of July is Alliance
Day." 6 The Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus sang "Ballad for Ameri-
cans" and an oratorio honoring Abraham Lincoln.' But while both
groups attempted to move from the periphery of political power to
the center, the Paterson chorus faced greater obstacles. In addition
to its ideology, the very immigrant origins of its members made the
chorus and its cause appear to be on the fringe of American society.

The story of the Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus is profoundly in-
fluenced by its immigrant qualities. The culture of the Jewish-
American left in the early twentieth century was a political culture
expressed in ethnic context, drawing no distinct boundary between
culture and politics. Despite the ideological differences between
them, Jewish socialists, anarchists and Communists all grappled
with assimilation in a polity committed to capitalism and Ameri-
canization. As Arthur Liebman has observed in Jews and the left
this dilemma placed their political commitments-and their very

4 On Populist movement culture, see Lawrence Goodwyn, The Populist Movement,
(New York: 1978). pp. xviii, 76. On Communist movement culture, see Bernstein.
Geller and Walkowitz.

5 Goodwyn, pp. 177-178.

6 Ibid., pp. 293-294.

7 Paterson Evening News, February 22, 1946.

eulture - under great stress, forcing all of them to adapt and change
to remain relevant to their communities. 8

The Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus was firmly in the cultural orbit
of the American Communist Party for about half of its sixty years.
As a radical Jewish group, the chorus sang music with political and
ethnic purposes. Its radical and Yiddish identities were inextricably
linked. But at different points in the history of the chorus, each car-
ried greater weight. In the Twenties and Thirties, chorus members
sang out of a deep commitment to social struggle, treating their per-
formances almost like an "assignment" in the larger cause of the
left.9 But the chorus also sustained Jewish cultural needs, and over
time these became more important than its original political pro-
gram. Under the pressure of assimilation, political change and
repression, the lyrics of the chorus came to function primarily to
preserve Yiddish culture. 10 Yet even when this happened, the singers
carried elements of their radical past with them, precisely because
they did not - and could not - draw a strict distinction between their
political and ethnic identities. They did not know how to be Yiddish
singers without being politically progressive, and they did not know
how to be politically progressive without being Yiddish singers.

The history of the Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus reveals the diffi-
culty of sustaining a radical movement grounded in Yiddish in a
conservative, English-speaking country. But the story of the chorus
is not a tale of political declension or cf blind adherence to worn-
out political dogma and a dying language. Throughout its history.
the chorus affirmed an alternative American politics and culture.
Initially, it celebrated the Communist challenge to the corporate
state. It performed in Yiddish because that was the mother tongue
of its singers. Later, as it confronted the challenge of entering the
political mainstream, the chorus added English songs to reach a
more diverse audience. Even though the chorus failed to transmit its
culture 10 younger, more assimilated Jews, the singers sustained a
tradition of brotherhood that made their concerts an exercise in in-
ternationalism and cultural pluralism, not ethnic chauvinism.

The story of the Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus begins with the ar-
rival of Jewish immigrants in Paterson during the early twentieth
century. They found a city with a boom and bust economy where
workers possessed a militant tradition created before the Civil War
in repeated strikes. The Jews who settled in this textile city nick-
named "The Lyons of America" made Paterson fertile ground for

8 Liebman, p. 355.

9 On treating performances like "assignments," see Esther Liss

10 Walkowitz.

Yiddish culture. Paterson's Jewish population grew from 427 in
1877 to 5,000 in 1907. By 1930, Jews numbered an estimated
25-30,000 of the city's population of 138,500."

These immigrants were often familiar with struggle. Many Pater-
son Jews came from Lodz, a Polish textile center that saw strikes,
mass meetings, and uprisings fought on barricades in the 1905
Revolution. In America they found a city whose labor movement,
Jewish neighborhoods and ramshackle millworkers tenements,
formed a familiar environment where radicalism and Yiddish cul-
ture were very appropriate. 12

In Europe, radical Yiddish songs had stirred the rallies and meet-
ings of Jewish socialist and labor unionists. They continued to do
so in Paterson. Accounts of the 1913 silk strike led by the Industrial
Workers of the World contain many references to singing Jewish
strikers." In 1915, Paterson textile workers established a chorus that
evolved into the Freiheit Gesang Ferein in 1923 and later became the
Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus." Naturally, the Freiheit Gesang
Ferein sang in Yiddish because that was the singers' mother tongue,
the language in which they most easily expressed their political be-
liefs.

The Paterson Freiheit Gesang Ferein performed the same songs
that had inspired radical Jews in Europe. These pieces were augmen-
ted by the works of Jacob Schaefer, an immigrant composer who
created music that was distinctly Jewish and politically radical.

11 On nineteenth century Paterson labor, see John Cunningham, America's Main
Roads, (New York: 1966), pp 286, 142. Alos, Herbert Gutman, "Class. Status and
Community Power in Nineteenth Century American Cities." passim, in Gutman' s
Work, Culture and Society in Industrializing America, (New York: 1976). On
Paterson's nickname and industrial heritage, see Federal Writers' Project, New
Jersey (New York: 1939). pp. 350-351. On the Jewish population in Paterson. see
Karen Berman's article on Paterson Jews in the Paterson Evening News Septem-
ber 15, 1975. For the foreign-born percentage of Paterson's population, see New
Jersey, p. 350.

1 2 On Lodz in 1905. see Nora Levin While Messiah Tarried (New York: 1977). p.
322. For descriptions of Paterson. see New Jersey, p. 350.

1 3 On radical Yiddish song in Eastern Europe, see Ruth Rubin. Voices of a People.
(New York: 1973). p. 478. On song and the Jewish labor mCXement ill Europe,
see Ezra Mendelsohn. Class Struggle in the Pale, (New York: 1970) pp. 66. 122.
On working class choruses in Germany, see Dieter Dowe. "The Workingmen' s
Choral Movement in Germany Before the Firsl World War," Journal of Contem-
porary History XIII. 32, (April, I978), passim, pp. 269-296 On singing strikers
in Paterson. see Paterson Evening News, March 26, 1913. April 5. 1913, April 14,
1913. and May 12. 1913.

1 4 For the basic history of the chorus and the history of left Yiddush choruses in
general, see Mordechai Yardeini. Fifty Years of Yiddish Song in America, (New
York: 1964), pp. 52-54. On the political split that led to the founding of the Pater-
son Freiheit Gesang Ferein, see Geller.

Schaefer, who conducted in Paterson and other cities, wrote 11 large
scale oratorios and cantatas and more than 100 original composi-
tions and settings of Jewish folk songs. In Paterson and elsewhere,
he taught chorus members to sing by rote because so few of them
could read music. 15

Schaefer and the Freiheit Gesang Ferein found a ready audience
in Paterson, where continuing industrial conflicts in the Twenties
and Thirties fuelled the radicalism of Jewish workers. Left wing and
labor union activity intensified as Paterson' s important silk indus-
try went through a decline caused largely by manufacturers' exodus
to cheaper, less militant labor in Pennsylvania and the South."
Communist movement activities gave the chorus a forum; it re-
hearsed in the hall of the International Workers Order, a fraternal
insurance organization friendly to the Communist Party. The city's
substantial Yiddish-speaking working class provided singers and an
audience. V

A typical chorus performance of the Twenties and early Thirties
was a joint appearance of the Freiheit Gesang Ferein choruses of
Paterson and New York City in Carnegie Hall May 28, 1927. The
highlight of the program was an oratorio entitled "Twelve," derived
from a poem on the Russian Revolution. The oratorio described 12
Red Guardsmen marching through the streets, bullying members of
the middle class. The line, "Oh, mother in heaven, the Bolsheviks
are turning the world upside down!" was repeated throughout the
piece, impressing on listeners the power of the revolution. 18

Songs performed by the chorus in these years dealt with class
struggle, working class life, and revolution. "Awake" asked workers
to recognize their revolutionary potential: "Awake, for it dawns/
Open your eyes and see the might that is yours." "My Resting
Place," by Morris Rosenfeld, intoned, "Don't look for me where
myrtles are green/You will not find me there, my beloved. 1 Where
lives wither at the machine/ There is my resting place." 19 "Church

15 On Jacob Schaefer and the Freiheit Gesang lerein movement, see the Daily
Worker, January 2, 1936. Also Yardeini, pp. 42-43 and Sidney l-inkclstein, "The
Music of Jacob Schaefer," in Yardeini, pp. 177-178.

16 On Paterson during the 1919 Red Scare, see Morris Schonbach. Railieuls and Vi-
sionaries, (Princeton: 1964), p. 67. On Paterson industrial conflicts in the Twen-
ties and Thirties, see Nancy 1-ogelson. "They Paved the Streets With Silk," Sen-
Jersey History, (Auiumn, 1979), 133-134; also Kichard Noble. "Pjtcrson's Re-
sponses to the Great Depression," New Jersey History (Autumn-Winter, 1978),
87. On early twentieth century Paterson labor, see James L. Wood, "History of
labor in lhe Broad Silk Industry of Paterson, 1872-1940" (Ph.D. dissertation.
University of California, 1942).

17 Interviews wiih Geller, l.iss, Bernstein, October 9, 1980 and November 1980.

18 Daily Worker, May 27, 1927.

19 Bernstein and Walkowitz.

Bells" lauded revolution and dismissed churchgoing ;
revolutionary:

I hear rhe bells ringing-stop, it's enough

Because the church bells are lulling the people.

Your wild tones have driven us crazy long enough-
it's enough.

You want to lull the world to sleep.

I've discovered a new clock, a new bell

Which wakes up the people

Not just in church and not just in the air,

Bur right on earth.

And it's calling on people 10 unite

And throw off their yoke.'"

In its heyday in the Twenties and Thirties, the Paterson Freiheit
Gesang Ferein was approximately 70 voices strong. It sang at benefit
parties for the Morning Freiheit, (the Yiddish language Communist
newspaper), secular Jewish children's schools, leftist women' s clubs
and the International Workers Order.21 "They participated in all our
affairs," recalls Isidore Geller, a former Communist Party member
from Paterson. "They were the life of the organizations. "22

Chorus performances were central to left wing activity in a city
marked by its labor movement and radicalism. "A Paterson strike,"
observed a Federal report of the Thirties, "converts the downtown
district into a huge picket line and a mass meeting. , . ." Organizers
from the Congress of Industrial Organizations and the Communist
Party were active among the 18% of Patersonians who were union
members. Communists led a large but unsuccessful strike in the
wool and worsted mills of neighboring Passaic in 1925. Paterson
workers often used the date of a big strike to recall memories of
marriages and other personal events. 23

This militant spirit was reflected in a 1934 incident. On the morn-
ing of May I, Patersonians awoke to find a red flag flying from the
flagpole in front of the city library. The flag was raised overnight
by Sol Walkowitz, Zisha Walkowitz's son, and a comrade. Inscribed
on it, and painted on adjacent sidewalks, were slogans demanding
a fund for the unemployed and an attack on fascism in the U.S.24

20 Bernsiein.

21 On chorus membership see Walkowitz. On the different events at which the cho-
rus appeared, see Bernstein.

22 Geller.

23 On union organiring efforts in the Twenties and Thirties see Leo Troy, Organized

Labor in New Jersey. (Princeton: 1965). pp. 82-97. On strikes and the percentage
of Patersonians in unions, see New Jersey, p. 351. On the Passaic strike, see Ru-
dolph Vecoli. The People of New Jersey (Princeton: 1965). pp. 199-200. On the
practice of dating events by strike dates, see New Jersey, p. 35.

24 New York Times, May 1, 1934, p. 2. I am indebted io Daniel J. Walkowitz of New
York University, Sol Walkowitz' son. for bringing this incident to my attention.

On May I, 1935, 3,000 demonstrators, mainly Communists and rad-
ical labor unionists, paraded through the city bearing signs protest-
ing fascism and supporting Iabor.25

The chorus gave "spirit" and "fire" to rallies in the early Thirties,
according to Belle Bernstein, daughter of Zisha Walkowitz and a
chorus member. "People knew that if the chorus was there, it was
going to be exciting," she recalls. 26

The chorus also appeared at large, formal concerts in Paterson.
joined by Freiheit Gesang Ferein choruses from neighboring towns
and cities. In the late Twenties, Jacob Schaefer directed more than
100 singers, a children's chorus and an orchestra in the oratorio
"Mosiach ben Yosef" in a performance at a Paterson theater.
Throughout the Thirties, such concerts attracted hundreds of
listeners."

The Paterson Freiheit Gesang Ferein membership and its au-
dience were virtually identical in background: all were Jewish,
Yiddish- speaking working and lower-middle class people. Many of
them were politically left wing. 28 In Paterson, as elsewhere, the im-
pact of the chorus during the Twenties and early Thirties was largely
confined to this Jewish left milieu. Belle Bernstein describes the
chorus as "sectarian" in these years, apparently referring to its fail-
ure to have a wide appeal beyond Paterson' s Yiddish-speaking
working class."

Although some might see this as autonomy, it was an autonomy
born of painful isolation from the mainstream of the American
working class. From 1919 to 1929, the Communist Party was preoc-
cupied with surviving government repression and intra-party dis-
putes. There was little time left for formulating theories of
proletarian music. During the party's Third Period, from 1928 to
1933, American Communists followed Comintern plans and
plunged into an intensified struggle lo overthrow capitalism. Party
members concentrated on political strategies for hastening revolu-
tion and avoided experimentation with music for workers outside
the party's foreign language groups. The result was a music and a
political culture alien to the native-born working people which the
party hoped to reach. When immigrant Communists s a n g they per-
formed in languages that English-speaking Americans could not

understand. 30 In their search for radical purity, Communists ap-
proved only of the explicitly political music of organizations like the
Freiheit Gesang Ferein. According to this analysis, indigenous
American music lacked radical sentiment. Jazz was considered
bourgeois and corrupt, blues defeatist, and Appalachian mountain
music backward."

This dilemma was summed up in a letter to the Daily Worker in
1927:

Our comrades can't sing. They sing half bad rhe "Internationale"
and the English Boatman Song, further they are deaf and dumb.
The Freiheit Gesang Ferein does valuable work. But we have so many
comrades who do not happen to be born Jews and they simply do not
understand Yiddish. But they can understand English. 32
A solution to this problem was found during the Popular Front
years, 1935-1940, when Communists abandoned a policy of isola-
tion and joined with socialists and liberals to combat the rise of fas-
cism. At this time, the Communist movement sought music relevant
to the great majority of English-speaking Americans. This aban-
donment of previous separatism combined with growing interest in
folklore throughout America and a more positive attitude towards
folklore in the Soviet Union. Together, these developments changed
the Communist movement's policy toward folk music and, conse-
quently, the repertoire of the Freiheit Gesang Ferein choruses?

From the late Thirties on, the Paterson chorus sang in both Yid-
dish and English to reach beyond its original Yiddish audience.34 As
a strictly Yiddish chorus, it might have continued to sing only Yid-
dish songs. But as a radical Yiddish group seeking to reach the
American working class, it also performed songs in English that ap-
pealed to native-born Americans.

Chorus members stress that their repertoire changes resulted
from a shared political outlook, not Moscow directives. Joseph
Walkowitz, son of Zisha and a chorus member, recalls:

There was no leadership - meaning from the Communisr Party - given
to that chorus as long as I was there, and I was there sincel945, or even
prior to that, on what to sing or how to sing it or anything else. These

30 On the Third Period in general, see Irving Howe, The American Communist
Party, (New York: 1974). pp. 175-235. On the Communist movement's approach
to music, see Richard Reuss. "American Folklore and Left-wing Politics" (Ph.D.
dissertation. Indiana University, 1971). p. 51.

31 Reuss. pp. 62-65.

32 Daily Worker. October II. 1927.

33 Walkowitz and Bernstein.

34 Walkowitz and Bernstein.

people decided what they wanted for themselves. They were all left wing
oriented, they didn't need any guidance. It all came out of themselves.'"

Similarly, Isidore Geller, a Paterson Communist Party member
from its inception to the Fifties, recalls that the chorus "was one or-
ganization over which the party never had too much influence
directly." He describes the chorus as friendly to the Communist
Party without being part of it.36

But links between the chorus and local Communists were quite
close. Belle Bernstein remembers that the chorus and party had "a
close working relationship" and that some members of the Com-
munist Party were leaders in the chorus. In this period, most of the
rank and file singers belonged to the International Workers Order,
whose politics were close to those of the Communist Party." It ap-
pears that the chorus was generally anxious to support the Com-
munist movement and therefore needed minimal party direction.

During the Thirties and Forties, all these cultural currents on the
left led the chorus to modify its Yiddish image and seek a wider au-
dience. The Freiheit Gesang Ferein became the Paterson Jewish Folk
Chorus and performed "The House I Live In" and "Ballad for
Americans," both songs of the Popular Front years celebrating
brotherhood and the role of ordinary people in American history.
The chorus travelled to New York City to back Paul Robeson at the
Mecca Temple and also sang with him at Madison Square Garden
in the late Thirties in a performance of "Ballad for Americans.""
Although these new English pieces never replaced the chorus' core
of Yiddish songs, they added a new flavor to concerts and reached
out to new listeners.

Singing in English presented difficulties for some immigrant cho-
rus members whose native tongue was Yiddish. Their accents some-
times created humorous, though unintentional, changes in lyrics.
For example, in:

We want the world and all that is on it

Mines and railways, shops and lands.

We built it all and mean to take it

Mines and railways, shops and lands,

the singers' accents turned "shops and lands" into "chops and

lambs," earning the song the nickname "the Butcher's Song. "39

35 Walkowitz.

36 Geller.

37 Bernstein. October 9. 1980 and November 1

38 Walkowitz, Liss and Bernstein.

39 Walkowitz.

Although much more a part of the American political main-
stream than the chorus of the Twenties, the chorus of these latter
decades still retained a radical vision. With a repertoire of both En-
glish and Yiddish songs, it extolled internationalism and equality
with words and ideas that most Americans could understand. It
lauded the struggle against fascism. As an active participant in a
Communist movement culture, the chorus communicated its vision
of an America of social and economic justice free from racial and
ethnic oppression.

The sound of Yiddish-speaking singers performing "Ballad for
Americans" in thick Eastern European accents might be incongru-
ous to outsiders. But the song served a purpose: it expressed im-
migrant singers' claim to a place in American society. In the face of
anti-Communism, anti-Semitism and nativism, they affirmed that
their leftist ideology and Jewish heritage were not un-American, but
attributes giving them a special place in America.

Approximately 55 voices strong, the Paterson chorus appeared
throughout World War I I at benefit concerts for Russian war relief.
A photograph of the chorus in this period shows 55 men and
women in suits and dresses wearing buttonieres, standing formally
onstage. Concerts continued to be special events for members. "You
were important for a day," recalls Belle Bernstein.40

A February 1946 concert crystallized a decade of changes in the
chorus. Onstage at Paterson School Number Six were the Paterson
Jewish Folk Chorus, the Choir of Canaan, (a local Black Baptist
Gospel choir), and Pete Seeger, banjo-playing folksinger and a
leader in the American left wing folksong movement. The program
began with the chorus singing Jewish folksongs, but these were
quickly followed by pieces utterly foreign to the old-style Freiheit
Gesang Ferein Yiddish programs. The two choirs, one Black Baptist
and the other Jewish, sang "The Lonesome Train," a cantata on
Abraham Lincoln's funeral train. Joseph Posner, a local cantor,
sang the prologue from Pagliacci, then a humorous American folk-
song, and finally a religious aria. Pete Seeger finished the concert
with American folksongs and the audience sang along.'"

Clearly, this was far from Yiddish oratorios extolling the Russian
Revolution and songs dismissing church going as counterrevolution-
ary. The concert asserted the value of America's diverse cultures and
the American progressive tradition. In choosing the cantata on
Abraham Lincoln the chorus claimed political roots in American
history, not just the Russian Revolution. In performing with a Black

gospel choir, they acknowledged the struggles and traditions of
Black Americans and joined hands with another American
minority group. By performing in Yiddish and also singing with the
Choir of Canaan and Seeger, the chorus reached out in an attempt
to become a force throughout Paterson.

Other songs performed after 1945 dealt with World War II, the
Holocaust, and the birth of Israel. For some chorus members, the
virtual destruction of the Eastern European Jews heightened the im-
portance of preserving Yiddish culture, and reinforced the Yiddish
identity of the chorus. One composition, "Fum Viglied to Ziglied,"
(From Cradle Song to Victory Song), chronicled the life of an East-
ern European Jewish family. Another, "S' brent," (It's Burning),
sang of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, and accused the entire world,
including the Pope, of looking on with folded hands while the
ghetto expired in flames. The chorus also added "Zog Nit Keyn-
mol." the Vilna resistance hymn which affirms, "Never say that you
have reached the very end . , . because the hour for which we
yearned will yet arrive." Israeli songs performed in Hebrew reached
out to Jews who might not be attracted to an exclusively Yiddish
language chorus.42

During the early Fifties, the chorus sang Beethoven's "Ode to
Joy" at Paterson Brotherhood Week concerts promoting racial and
ethnic harmony. The city government gave the singers two awards
for its work on Brotherhood programs. The chorus also appeared
at the city's Young Men's Christian Association and the Paterson
Veterans' Council's "I Am An American Day."43

As these performances indicate, the chorus had achieved some
success performing for people outside its traditional Jewish au-
dience. But if the group had broken some of the ethnic and linguis-
tic barriers surrounding it, one label remained: its identification as
an organization within the orbit of the Communist Party. During
the anti-Communist hysteria of the Fifties this was a serious liabil-
ity. Belle Bernstein recalls that the chorus was isolated by charges
that it was a collection of "Communists" and "left-wingers." Joseph
Walkowitz felt that the chorus was "stagnating" in this isolation,
and singing only for its old-time supporters. If the chorus were to
survive, he thought, it had to reach new listeners .44

The Communist connection invited hostility and repression. It
also tied the chorus to a dwindling movement. "In the Forties, par-
ticularly the Forties, the choir was weak already," Geller recalls. "It

42 Walkowitz Bernsrein.

43 Ibid.

44 Bernsrein, October 9 1980 and November, 1980.

didn't have what it had when it was younger ... the entire move-
ment was weaker." 45 The isolation and decline of the Paterson left
reflected the national decline of the Communist Party. Many left
the Party's Paterson branch in disagreement over trade union mat-
ters, fear of government repression and disillusionment with the
Party and the Soviet Union.46

In 1954, as the Federal government broke up the I.W.O. on
charges that it was a subversive Communist organization, the cho-
rus stopped rehearsing at the I.W.O. hall in Paterson. In effect, this
meant leaving the Communist movement. Afterwards, the chorus'
schedule expanded to include concerts at the city library, Young
Men's - Young Women's Hebrew Association, and more municipal
events.47

Reflecting on the decision to leave the I.W.O. hall, Joseph
Wal kowitz explains:

V* felt that we had to lose some of our identification as a Communist
group because we were being shackled, we couldn't get out We had a
message to give, and just to identify ourselves in a sectarian manner
would not be helping our cause. . Our cause was the furtherance of
Jewish culture, Yiddish culture. We had a message of something to say
and we did not want any labels because the hysteria that was on at that
particular time would not help us.'"

His statement reveals both the pressures of the McCarthy era and
the evolution of the purpose of the chorus: a group that originally
espoused political radicalism through Yiddish culture was begin-
ning to see Yiddish culture as an end in itself. The immediate rea-
sons for these changes lay among Paterson leftists and Jews.
Reflecting a trend that Arthur Liebman has detected among other
radical Jewish organizations, the chorus became less a political in-
stitution and more an ethnic one, hoping to remain relevant to the
continuing ethnic concerns of less radical Paterson Jews.49 The
change reflected the evolving status of Yiddish in Paterson: with the
immigrant generation disappearing, the survival of Yiddish could
no longer be taken for granted. The chorus now sang to preserve the
language that was crucial to its identity.

But because the singers' ethnic identity was so intimately con-
nected with a radical political tradition, they carried elements of
their left wing past with them, Although the radicalism of the cho-

45 Geller.

46 Walkowitz. and Bernstein, October 9, 1980 and November, 1980.

47 Walkowitz and Bernstein. Although it is difficult to date precisely the chorus'
departure from the I.W.O. Hall, both Walkowitz and Bernstein place it h the
early Fifties and emphasize the audience expansion that followed it.

48 Wal kowilz.

49 Liebman. p. 355.

rus was diluted, it was never discarded. In Yiddish song, liberal and
ex-Communist members of the chorus sustained a tradition of sing-
ing for peace and brotherhood that gave political meaning 10 their
performances. Black spirituals, sung in support of the civil rights
movement, also gave a progressive flavor to concerts. 50

And the chorus kept its commitment to Yiddish songs of social
and artistic significance. The singers refused to sing commercial
Yiddish show tunes." As late as the Seventies, they voiced the old
militant song of the group's early years. One piece, written in 1930
and performed as late as 1970, asserted:

The boss makes nothing

Everyrhing is created by the working man. , ,

And if you can t do anything, iteally not nice,

So he prides himself on the one thing he can do: eat52

But despite the old, brave lyrics and the chorus' dogged dedication
to raising money for the Freiheit ("they're not ashamed to use the
word comrade," explained Belle Bernstein),53 the chorus was wast-
ing away from its inability to attract new members. The singers en-
dured the sad decline that plagued leftist choruses throughout
America. Elderly members who died were not replaced by young
singers. During the Fifties, a proposed merger with a local Work-
men's Circle chorus collapsed in animosity and red-baiting. An in-
flux of members from a disbanded chorus in neighboring Passaic
added a few singers, but not enough to reverse the decline. During
its final years, the chorus had to hire professionals to fill its ranks.
"It left a bad taste in our mouths," recalls Joseph Walkowitz.54

During the Fifties, the chorus averaged 25-30 members. The Six-
ties saw an average of 20 singers. The chorus disbanded in 1975.
when it numbered only 14 voices. 55

Explanations for the demise of the Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus
rest on political and ethnic factors. From the 1950's until 1975, the
chorus suffered the erosion of its political and ethnic support.

The increasing isolation and weakness of the Communist move-
ment in the Fifties broke the radical political movement the chorus
once celebrated in song. With the l.W.O. destroyed, the Communist

50 Walkowitz.

51 Bernstein. Nov.. 1980.

52 Walkowitz.

53 Bernstein. Nov., 1980.

53 O n the nationwide decline of Yiddish left choruses see Isaac Ronch, "Their
Songs Never Grow Old." Jewish Currents, v. 14. #2 (Feb. 1960) 13; also Maurice
Rauch. "Our Song." Jewish Currents, v. 18. #3. (March 196-1) 13. On the prob-
lems of decline in Paterson. see Walkowitz.

55 Walkowitz.

Party under attack, and many radicals disillusioned with the Com-
munist Party and the Soviet Union, the Communist movement cul-
ture - the chorus' original raison d'etre - withered. The rallies and
celebrations which the chorus had stirred in the Twenties and Thir-
ties ceased. 56 Deprived of the strong social and institutional support
it once found in the Communist movement, the chorus was forced
to look outside its old milieu for new audiences and supporters.

Beyond the dying Communist sub-culture, the singers met an-
other obstacle: the decline of Yiddish in America and Jews' increas-
ing integration into mainstream American culture. An enormous
cultural gap separated the chorus from the younger American-born
Jews who had to join the group if it were to survive.

While Yiddish- speaking immigrants made the chorus and other
Paterson-produced entertainments central to their lives, their
descendants apparently found their cultural sustenance in the con-
ventional offerings of American mass culture. The difference be-
tween Yiddish-speaking immigrants and their English-speaking
children was exacerbated by the birth of Israel and the Holocaust.
Zionism directed young Jews interested in Jewish culture towards
Hebrew and Israel, not the Yiddish language culture of Eastern Eu-
rope.'" When young Jews did express an interest in their Eastern Eu-
ropean roots, they encountered the results of the Nazi genocide
which destroyed the world of Yiddishkeit in Eastern Europe and
deprived young Jews of its resources. 58 To young Jews, Yiddish be-
came a grandparents' language, Yiddish song a grandparents' song
far removed from daily life in suburban New Jersey.

These obstacles were compounded by the disappearance of the
Paterson Jewish community that had supported the singers. In
Paterson, as in many other American cities, upward economic mo-
bility, assimilation and flight from urban decay led many Jews to
move to the suburbs. Jews made up 20% of the population of Pater-
son in 1930 but only 4% in 1975.59 The dispersion of Jews into the

56 On the weakening of the Old Left in Paterson, see Geller. On general Jewish dis-
enchantment with the Communist Party, see Irving Howe, World of Our Fathers,
(New York: 1976). pp. 344-347.

57 Bob Norman, "A Jewish Folk Music Revival," Jewish Currents. V. 34, #9. Oc-
tober, 1980, 36.

58 Norman, p. 36. I am also indebted on this point to Mick Maloney. who has dis-
cussed with me the relationship between the American revival of Irish music and
music in rhe Irish Republic. The Irish example illuminates the relationship be-
tween European ethnic music and its American manifestations.

59 For statistics on the decline in Paterson's Jewish population, see the Berman arti-
cle in the September IS, 1975 Paterson Evening News. For related statistics on the
growth of Jewish population in towns outside Paterson, see Edward Shapiro.
"The Jews of New Jersey," in Barbara Cunningham, ed., The New Jersey Ethnic
Experience. (Union City, N.J.: 1977), p, 308.

suburbs around Paterson scattered singers and audience, destroying
the old Jewish urban community that had once nourished the
chorus.

The near-simultaneous decline of the Communist movement,
Yiddish language and Paterson Jewish community isolated the cho-
rus and threatened its very existence. Ultimate proof of the isolation
of the chorus came as the New Left succeeded the Old Left, bring-
ing with it a new cultural orientation to American radicalism. Old
Left choruses like the Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus rehearsed and
sang in a formal, highly organized style befitting their political cul-
ture. The more freewheeling New Left found its musical expression
in the topical songs of the solitary, guitar-playing folk singer or the
spontaneous, exuberant black music of the civil rights movement.
Where the Paterson Chorus sang in Yiddish because that was the
mother tongue of its singers, the overwhelmingly American-born
New Left sang in English. Where the New Left was self-consciously
youthful, by the Sixties the Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus was an or-
ganization of middle-aged and elderly people. Indeed, the social
and cultural differences between the Old and New Left are summed
up by the differences between a formal, organized Paterson Freiheit
Gesang Ferein concert at Carnegie Hall and Phil Ochs holding forth
at a Greenwich Village coffee house.

Of course, the chorus was in no position to become a part of the
New Left. But the chorus' devotion to Yiddish culture remained.
And because the singers' ethnic identity was so deeply connected
with a progressive political vision, it retained elements of its radical
past. The singers' sense of ethnicity was derived from the interna-
tionalism of the Popular Front, not the factionalism of Sixties eth-
nic pride movements. Unlike Sixties organizations that sometimes
exalted their culture in ways that ignored or slighted other groups,
the Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus performed in "the cause of friend-
ship and peace between all peoples" and invited others, like blacks
or Italians, to sing along. 60

"How do we participate in the Negro struggle for equality in
America?" wrote Maurice Rauch, a composer, teacher and conduc-
tor for the Paterson Jewish Folk chorus and similar groups. "The
first and obvious answer is likely to be 'Sing a Negro song of strug-
gle.' Certainly we demonstrate our solidarity with the Negro by do-
ing so, But is this enough? How much stronger our contribution,
how much more peculiarly American, how much more universal

) For the quote on the "cause of friendship , see a chorus program from a
May, 1972 concert. On the continued use of progressive songs, see interviews with
Walkowitz and Bernstein, October 9, 1980 and November 1980.

does this struggle become when, alongside 'We shall Overcome' we
sing our 'Zog Nit Keynmol.' "61

Long after its break with the Communist movement, the chorus
maintained a tradition of singing for social justice and brother-
hood. Even as the chorus became more Yiddish than radical, the
singers maintained connections to their radical past. The Paterson
Jewish Folk Chorus took the side of all oppressed people, whether
they were white factory workers in "Shnel Loifen de Redden"
(Wildly the Wheels Turn) or black slaves portrayed in "Go Down
Moses." Joseph Walkowitz proudly recalls a concert attended by an
integrated audience at a time when racial tensions were high in
Paterson. 62

But it would be a mistake to understand the ethnicity of the cho-
rus without reference to its politics. The history of the chorus re-
veals an intimate but changing relationship between the radical and
ethnic elements in the chorus' identity. Initially, political radicalism
was the dominant component of the chorus' identity. The chorus
sang in Yiddish because that was the mother tongue of the singers
and their community. But as radicals seeking to reach the majority
of the American working class, they also performed English lan-
guage songs and became a significant force outside their original
Yiddish constituency, Although Lawrence Goodwyn chides so-
cialists and Communists for their supposed narrow sectarianism,*'
the chorus creatively moved into radical and reform spheres of
American politics in the late Thirties and Forties. In Paterson, at
least, leftists were more flexible and committed to reaching the
mainstream than normally supposed. The result was music with a
conscience that maintained a distinct message even as chorus mem-
bership dwindled.

If the world outside the Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus had less
and less time for a Yiddish choir, Yiddish song retained ethnic and
political importance for the chorus and its audience. Communist
chorus members left the Party but stayed in the chorus. They did
not exploit Yiddish music and discard it when it ceased to serve
their immediate political purpose. Instead, they showed a principled
commitment to Yiddish that transcended their loyalty to Com-
munism. They preserved Yiddish song as part of their ethnic heri-
tage, perhaps with a tinge of nostalgia, and tenaciously affirmed
their identity and cultural pluralism in the face of enormous Ameri-
can pressures to assimilate.

61 Rauch, p. 14.

62 Walkowirz.

63 Goodwyn, pp. :

And it must always be remembered that immigrant radicals faced
far more cultural obstacles than native-born Populists. As radicals,
their greatest artistic resource - the Yiddish language - limited their
audience. In a country where most people spoke English, the
singers' Yiddish message fell on uncomprehending ears. It was not
that their radicalism was un-American as jingoists might charge, but
that the Yiddish culture through which they celebrated socialism
was so foreign to most Americans. Starting from a position closer
to the mainstream of American culture, Populists could draw on
many American symbols, from revival meetings to the legacy of the
American Revolution. Jewish radicals faced a dual challenge: con-
servatism and pressure to assimilate. Foreign-born radicals could
jettison their own culture or transform the dominant American cul-
ture to make room for a variety of different subcultures.

The Paterson Jewish Folk Chorus chose the second course. They
sang a limited number of English language songs to reach Ameri-
cans who did not speak Yiddish. Yet they did so within a larger mes-
sage celebrating harmony between Americans of all backgrounds,
As Yiddish singers, they performed with pride in their own heritage
and a desire for brotherhood.

Because Yiddish was so crucial to their identity, they could not
accommodate themselves to younger generations of Jews who did
not speak Yiddish. As the Yiddish speaking population of the
Paterson area dwindled, they became an ever-more isolated island
in a sea of assimilated Jews. Perhaps they could have purchased a
few more years of existence by singing only in English, but that
price was too great. For the singers, forsaking Yiddish would have
meant forsaking the very core of their identity.

Because the chorus was eventually forced to disband, some might
see its history as a story of defeat. But there is more to the singers'
legacy. History records both what is done to people and what people
do for themselves within their own unique circumstances. Viewed in
this light, the singers left a record worthy of great respect. The cho-
rus continually confronted great odds in singing to celebrate radical
politics and Yiddish culture. They could not totally separate the
two. Yet for all their attempts to make a place for themselves in a
hostile polity that stressed assimilation, the singers refused to adapt
so much that they destroyed their integrity, "Music wasn't their most
important thing," recalls Joseph Walkowitz, "because they felt that
music without a conscience - without a message - was just singing
in the air to make somebody happy.'""

The chorus weathered the threats of political repression, cultural

64 Rauch. p. 14.. Walkowitz.

isolation and assimilation for more than sixty years. Because of
these challenges, the history of the chorus is a record of struggle,
courage, adaptation and integrity in the face of great odds.

For radicals, the history of the chorus shows the importance of
culture in politics. The chorus created an area of cultural autonomy
for the singers, reinforced their commitment to the Communist
movement, and creatively reached out to potential comrades, If mu-
sic is the human soul expressed in sound, radical music can express
people's deepest political feelings far more evocatively than simple
slogans or speeches. While leftists justly acclaim the contributions
of singers like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, they know little of
the immigrant choruses' great contributions to radical culture. 65
This ignorance cripples contemporary radicals' discussions of eth-
nicity because it ignores the lessons of a generation that confronted
all the complexities of ethnicity in American life and politics.

For Jews, the chorus shows how to express ethnic pride without
falling into ethnic chauvinism, The singers' pride in being Jewish
was coupled with a commitment to brotherhood between races,
religions and nationalities. Their efforts at bridge-building between
different groups were humane and political without being formal
and didactic.

For historians, the story of the chorus shows the importance of
studying the intimate relationship between culture, ethnicity and
radicalism in the Old Left. The singers cannot be understood as
Jews or Yiddishists or radicals alone, but as the sum of all three.

The chorus' music changed over time as its members and their
cultural and political environment changed. But its music always
had a purpose, whether it was a call to revolution or an attempt to
preserve a fast-disappearing Yiddish culture.

"The feeling of the people was that our songs should enlighten
and lift up and show people what the way was," recalls Joseph
Walkowitz. "It had to talk about peace, it had to talk about love,
it had to be humorous, it had to be biting, it had to be demanding,
it had to be joyous. There is no time to cry." 66

"They sang some pretty good stuff that no chorus had to be
ashamed to sing." 67

65 Reuss. pp. 94-96, 152.

66 Walkowitz.

67 Ibid.

A MUSICAL BRIDGE BETWEEN ISRAEL
AND LOS ANGELES

Robert Strassburg

The innovative Dr. Michael Isaacson's name looms ever larger on the hori-
zon of contemporary J ewish music. His most recent venture in the vine-
yard of synagogue music bears the name Legacy The handsomely
packaged cassette is subtitled, "A Mosaic of J ewish Music," and was three
years in the making. It is an excellent example of the way in which our
ancient prayers may be enriched and given renewed vitality, using the
latest state of the recording art.

Legacy is important as a historic recording, for Dr. Isaacson, with great
ingenuity and rich musicality, has widened the palette of J ewish music
through the creation of a symphonic ensemble in J erusalem. This ensem-
ble, the new National Symphony Orchestra of Israel performing under
his baton, is indeed responsive to the new J ewish music that Isaacson sets
before it.

In creating this long-needed musical bridge between Israel and
America, Cantor Nathan Lam of the Stephen S. Wise Temple in Los
Angeles has played a most important role. The results have been very sig-
nificant, Cantor Lams vision, vocal achievements, and dedication to J ew-
ish music in this, his second album in collaboration with Dr. Isaacson,
are very supportive of the direction contemporary synagogue music is now
taking.

What makes this cassette unique is not only its rich range of expres-
sion, but Isaacson's ingenuity in conducting his imaginative and color-
ful orchestrations in Israel, and then returning to the Evergreen Studios
in Burbank, California, where with Cantor Lam and combined choral
forces, the vocals are performed over the already recorded orchestra. The
attractive brochure that accompanies the cassette suggests that, when
all the tracks are equalized and balanced, the resulting effect is one of
a "huge concert performance spanning the distance between Israel and
Los Angeles."

However, what holds our attention is the soul and substance of
Legacy's musical values. They are bound to appeal to both J ewish and non-
J ewish listeners. Side A of Legacy provides the listener with a broad spec-
trum of composer Isaacson's creativity from 1969 to 1984. One is

Dr. Robert Strassburg is a well known American composer and a member of the faculty
of California State University at Los Angeles.

30

impressed by the persuasive power of his melodic writing as much as by
his rhythmic, harmonic, and coloristic process. His music clearly belongs
to the mainstream of J ewish music set in motion by Ernest Bloch in the
first third of our century and further enriched by the Mediterranean
school of Israeli composers, among them Paul Ben-Haim and Marc Lavry.
The opening work, ShiruL'A donai, captivates the ear immediately with
its richly colorful blend of Middle Eastern rhythm and joyous choral vital-
ity, YomZeh LYisrael, from his third Sabbath service, "Nishmat Chayim,"
for cantor and community temple choir (sung in this instance by a youth
choir), welcomes the Sabbath with its felicitous melodic line. The Avinu
Malkenu, originally part of the S'lichot service commissioned by the Los
Angeles University Synagogue for cantor and choir, has a mystical qual-
ity that rivals its older predecessor and may be destined to enjoy a simi-
lar popularity.

In Isaacson's Hashkivenu, composed in 1983, the cantor is provided
with a richly rewarded melodic line of compelling tension, It is given an
inspired performance by Cantor Lam. This ancient evening prayer for can-
tor alone is supported by an ardent orchestral affirmation of unity between
the Diaspora and J erusalem.

Sim Shalom, composed in 1982 for cantor and choir, invites immedi-
ate congregational participation in its stirring invitation to embrace the
values of Torah. The V'taher Libenu message of the R'tsei V'menuchateynu
which follows, also written for Cantor Lam, has a Chasidic fervor about
it, both in thecantorial recitative and the lively choral interjections.

The composer's setting of the 23rd Psalm, written in 1969 while a stu-
dent of Robert Starer, foreshadows his dramatic and contemplative
approach tocantorial improvision. In this new orchestration, Cantor Lam
provides an effective interpretation of its complex melodic line.

A much-needed Biti prayer to accompany child-naming ceremonies,
as well as B'not Mitzvah occasions, written for cantor, harp, and strings,
is set to a text by Rabbi Kerry Baker. It closes the expressive Side A, a
survey of Isaacson's versatility as a composer, orchestrater, and conductor.

Side B features three Los Angeles composers of distinction. It opens
with the music of Charles Fox, a well-known film and television composer
whose Vihi Noam, in memory of his father, is set for rabbi, cantor, and
choir. Its Handelian textures are reminiscent of the opening chorus of the
Baroque master's oratario, Israel in Egypt. It is a splendid composition.
Rabbi Isaiah Zeldin, Cantor Lam, and the combined choirs of Stephen
Wise and Valley Beth Shalom Temples, under Isaacson's direction, pro-
vide an inspiring performance.

The least memorable work of the entire album, relying mainly on the
orchestral color and solo violin obbligato, is film composer David Shire's

setting, Arise My Lovg from the Song of Songs. Its attenuated melodic
line does not sufficiently reflect the winter's passing and the spring's
arrival expressed in the text.

Ahavat Olam by Aminadov Aloni, Music Director ofValleyBeth Sha-
lom Temple in Encino, California, is used with increasing frequency in
synagogues throughout the country during the High Holy Days. Aloni
provides a lovely and sensitive contrapuntal treatment of the traditional
Bosh Hashana Bar'chu melody for cantor and choir. Newly-orchestrated
by Isaacson for this recording, Cantor Lam and the combined choirs sing
it with warmth and sensitivity.

Elegy fortheFallen by Isaacson is a "Mourner's Kaddish" for solo trum-
pet and strings in memory of the victims of the Holocaust. It is the sole
instrumental composition on the recording, and is the middle movement
of a concerto for trumpet and orchestra. Its solemn poignant utterance
is a worthwhile addition to the trumpet literature.

Two rousing "fun" pieces for cantor and children's choir are welcome
additions to the Hanukkah and Purim repertoire. The lively elastic
rhythms and charming melodies of Al Hanissim and "Esther the Queen"
possess a folk-like quality of bouyant character, and bring Legacy to a
joyous conclusion.

Legacy may be obtained from Cantor Nathan Lam, Stephen S. Wise
Temple, 15500 Stephen S. Wise Drive, Los Angeles, CA 90077.

KOL SASON: A COMPLETE
WEDDING SERVICE

Warren H. Brown

J erome Kopmar's Kol Sason is a complete wedding service consisting
of three processionals and a bridal march for instruments only, and three
vocal sections with instrumental accompaniment: Bruchim Habaim, Mi
Adir, and the Sheva Biachot. Scored for flute, harp, and cello (with optional
piano), the composer's parts allow for several alternate instrumentations:
another violin may substitute for flute, solo flute, or violin and piano, or
piano only. Cantor Kopmar also suggests that a solofluteor violin may
effectively accompany the Cantor without other instruments, This group
of alternatives obviously allows for extreme flexibility in accompaniment
depending on the availability of specific instruments.

The first processional is majestic, with a long and fluid melody, in
minor with Aeolian modal flavor. Beginning in d minor, the processional
moves through a contrasting section in g minor, and modulates tof minor
before recapitulating the opening d minor section. The second proces-
sional, set in G major with Lydian overtones, opens with a flute solo and
flute/violin duet, prior to the main processional pause in the procession
of large wedding parties, allowing for a pause in the procession,

Contrasting to the maestoso alia marcia of the first two processionals,
the third is a quiet non-melodic solo for harp or piano in g minor, consist-
ing wholly of arpeggios. It is a placid and simple section-an appropriate
lead-in to the bridal march. These three processionals allow for flexibil-
ity, according to the size of the bridal party. The tonal scheme of the three
(d minor, G major, g minor) provides contrast and interest. The progres-
sion of tonality makes any or all of the three potentially effective for use
as a prelude to the bridal march.

The bridal march itself, in g minor, incorporates stylistic elements of
J ewish folksong. The Bruchim Habaim (in G major) utilizes secondary
dominants in its harmonic scheme. The contrast of minor and major is
most refreshing. There is an immediate segue to Mi Adir, also in G major,
which sets off the vocal solo with a fine flute/violin obbligato. The Sheva
B'rachot (in F major) isgraziosq with the seven blessings sung to a melody
derivative from the first one. There is a contrast of simple diatonic melody
with elaborate cantillation. This movement concludes with a vigorous
rhythmic section followed by cantillation, incorporating the characteristic
call and response style with voice and flute which pervades the movement.

Warren H. Brown is Professor of Music of Drew University and Columbia University,
and Artist in Residence at Congregation B'nai Jeshurun, Short Hills, New Jersey.

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