Cantors Assembly Journal of Synagogue Music

FALL 2011
VOLUME 36

JOURNA

OF

YNAGOGUE

MUSIC

hazzanut in the 20 th century and beyond

=^^:ourfml°J /^^ymgogue-Miisic

EDITOR: Joseph A. Levine
ASSOCIATE EDITOR: Richard Berlin

EDITORIAL BOARD

Rona Black, Shoshana Brown, Sanford Cohen, Gershon Freidlin, Geof-
frey Goldberg, Charles Heller, Kimberly Komrad, Sheldon Levin, Laurence
Loeb, Judy Meyersberg, Ruth Ross, Anita Schubert, Neil Schwartz, David
Sislen, Sam Weiss, Yossi Zucker

The Journal of Synagogue Music is published annually by the Cantors As-
sembly. It offers articles and music of broad interest to the hazzan and other
Jewish professionals. Submissions of any length from 1,000 to 10,000 words
will be considered.

GUIDELINES FOR SUBMITTING MATERIAL

All contributions and communications should be sent to the Editor,
Dr. Joseph A. Levine— jdlevine(S)comcast.net — as a Microsoft Word
document using footnotes rather than endnotes. Kindly include
a brief biography of the author. Musical and/or graphic material
should be formatted and inserted within the Word document. Links
to audio files may be inserted as well, along with a URL for each.

Footnotes are used rather than endnotes, and should conform to the fol-
lowing style:

A - Abraham Idelsohn, Jewish Liturgy (New York: Henry Holt), 1932: 244.

B - Samuel Rosenbaum, "Congregational Singing"; Proceedings of the

Cantors Assembly Convention (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary),

February 22, 1949:9-11.

Layout by Prose & Con Spirito, Inc., Design by Replica.

Copyright © 2011 by the Cantors Assembly. ISSN 0449-5128

\yitagogue:-Musk\

Our Fall 2012 issue will focus on

Sacred Space

with articles that explore how space depends on time, and time reveals
space:

How the Dura Europos Synagogue Functioned as a Holy Place
The Message of Design in Creating Sacred Space
Sanctifying Two-Dimensional Space: The Avodah of Art
Towards Understanding the Second Temple's Acoustics
Yofi u-k'dushah: The Visual Aspect of Sacralizing Space
Form and Symbolism in Synagogue Architecture
The "Spaciousness" of Synagogue Music
Clothes Make the Place
Tales from the Choir Loft

The Journal no longer charges for subscriptions — because its raison d'etre
has always been to elevate the standards of Jewish liturgical music and to aid
cantors and synagogue musicians in furthering that endeavor. By eliminating
cost as a factor, the Cantors Assembly hopes to put this scholarly publica-
tion into more hands individually, and collectively via institutional libraries.
Current and past issues from 1967-2003 are now accessible online through
a "Journal of Synagogue Music / Convention Proceedings" link on the
Cantors Assembly website (cantors.org ). Printed back-issues from 2005-
2010 may be ordered prepaid in minimum lots of five @ $25 a copy, includ-
ing postage, from the Cantors Assembly ( caoffice(fl>aol.com ), using VISA,
AMEX, DISCOVER or MASTER cards.

EDITOR: Joseph A. Levine
ASSOCIATE EDITOR: Richard Berlin

EDITORIAL BOARD

Rona Black, Shoshana Brown, Sanford Cohen, Gershon Freidlin, Geof-
frey Goldberg, Charles Heller, Kimberly Komrad, Sheldon Levin, Laurence
Loeb, Judy Meyersberg, Ruth Ross, Anita Schubert, Neil Schwartz, David
Sislen, Sam Weiss, Yossi Zucker

The Journal of Synagogue Music is published annually by the Cantors As-
sembly. It offers articles and music of broad interest to the hazzan and other
Jewish professionals. Submissions of any length from 1,000 to 10,000 words
will be considered.

GUIDELINES FOR SUBMITTING MATERIAL

All contributions and communications should be sent to the Editor,
Dr. Joseph A. Levine — idlevine(5>comcast.net — as a Microsoft Word
document using footnotes rather than endnotes. Kindly include
a brief biography of the author. Musical and/or graphic material
should be formatted and inserted within the Word document. Links
to audio files may be inserted as well, along with a URL for each.

Footnotes are used rather than endnotes, and should conform to the fol-
lowing style:

A - Abraham Idelsohn, Jewish Liturgy (New York: Henry Holt), 1932: 244.

B - Samuel Rosenbaum, "Congregational Singing"; Proceedings of the

Cantors Assembly Convention (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary),

February 22, 1949:9-11.

layout by Prose & Con Spirito, Inc., Design by Replica.

Copyright © 2011 by the Cantors Assembly. ISSN 0449-5128

— C/:ournal°f^^jytiagogiw-Miisk Tjr '

Vol. 36 'Famuli

FROM THE EDITOR

The Issue of Hazzanut in the 20th Century and Beyond:

A Hyphenated Cantorate? 5

BLAZE OF DAY

Setting the Stage: Salomon Sulzer (1804-1890) Meets

Pinchas Minkowsky (1859-1924)

Akiva Zimmermann 10

Psalm 126 (P. Minkowsky) 13

My Debut As a Meshoreir

Boris Thomashefsky (1869-1939) 15

Adon Olamfor S'lihot (A. Baer) 19

New Light for a New Century: Gershon Sirota (1874-1943)

Gleaned from many sources 20

Sham'ah va-tismah tsiyon (D. Ayzenstadt) 23

My Life in Turn-of-the-Century Vienna and Its Environs

Zavel Kwartin (1874-1952) 28

Ki eil shom'reinu (Z. Kwartin) 41

The World of Yossele Rosenblatt (1882-1933)

Joseph A. Levine 46

Matsil ani (J. Rosenblatt) 54

The Friendly Rival: Mordechai Hershman (1888-1941)

Gleaned from many sources 67

Ihe Prophecy of Isaiah (P. Jassinowsky) 69

The Paragon of Understatement: David Roitman 1888-1943)

Gleaned from many sources 75

L'david mizmor (D. Roitman) 77

1

The Tragically Short Career of Joseph Shlisky (1894-1955)

After B. Stambler 83

R'tseih vimnuhateinu (J. Shlisky) 85

Yossele's Protege: Samuel Malavsky (1894-1985)

Gleaned from many sources 91

Aheinu kol beit yisra'eil (S. Malavsky) 94

The Visionary: Leib Glantz (1898-1964)

Gleaned from many sources 96

D'roryikra (L. Glantz) 98

The Man Who Brought Filler Syllables to Mainstream
Worship: Pierre Pinchik (1899-1971)

Gleaned from many sources 103

Maoz tsur (P. Pinchik) 105

The Birth of a Cantorial Classic

Mordechai Yardeini (1908-1982) 110

Esa einai (M. Yardeini) 119

DARKNESS AT NOON

Moshe Koussevitzky (1899-1966) in Vilna, Warsaw and Russia

Akiva Zimmermann 125

Akavya ben mahalaleil omeir (I. Alter) 142

The Cantor of Czyzewo

Gerszon Gora 148

The Ghetto Synagogue (E. M. Lilien) 152

yisrael u-t'fillatam

J. Levine, S. Mendelson 153

Akhein atah eil mistateir (A. Blumenfeld) 186

GOLDEN SUNSET

A Mediterranean Touch at Mid-Century:
Berele Chagy (1892-1954)

Gleaned from many sources 187

Yir'u eineinu (B. Chagy) 190

"The Lion in the Pack": Israel Alter (1901-1979)

Gleaned from many sources 194

Sh'ma koleinu (I. Alter) 197

Centennial Memories of My Father: Cantor David Kusevitsky
(1911-1985)

Valerie Kusevitsky Leibler 198

V'khol ha-hayyim (D. Kusevitsky) 205

A Brand Plucked from the Holocaust: Sholom Katz
(1915-1982)

Gleaned from many sources 212

Ha-veinyakkirli (S. Katz) 214

"The Cantors' Cantor": Moshe Ganchoff (1905-1997)

Gleaned from many sources 217

Hoshana even sh'tiyah (M. Ganchoff) 219

PALE DUSK

The Current State of Hazzanut in the UK

Geoffrey L. Shisler 229

The Current State of Hazzanut in the Netherlands

Jeffrey P. Lieuwen 234

Portuguese Synagogue (Interior) in Amsterdam (E. de Witte) . . 235
The State of Ashkenazic Liturgical Music in Israel Today

Raymond G. Goldstein 236

How Should We Train the Cantors of the Future? —
A Symposium

Scott Sokol, Nathan Lam, Henry Rosenblum,

Stephen J. Stein 241

3

A LITERARY GLIMPSE

How I Conducted 300 High Priests

Joseph Rumshinsky (1881-1956) . .

REVIEWS

Deborah Katchko Gray's Songbook and CD— Katchko:

Three Generations of Cantor ial Art

Robert S. Scherr 254

Adonai Malakh (A. Katchko) 257

Gilgulfun a nign— Cantor Arianne Brown's CD—

Eternal Flame: A Yiddish Love Story

Gershon Freidlin 259

Ladislaw Moshe Blum's Double-CD Retrospective

Robert Brody 265

Leo Zeitlin's Chamber Music

Charles Heller 267

MAILBOX

How I Discovered the Glory That Was Glantz

Penny S. Myers 269

Thoughts on Hearing the CA's Emunat Abba CD

Jonathan M. Weisgal 271

Sol Mendelson 271

Jack Mendelson 272

Setting the Record Straight on Pioneering Women

Conservative Cantors

Linda Rich 272

The Issue of Hazzanut in the 20 th Century and Beyond:
A Hyphenated Cantorate?

This issue spotlights cantors who helped fashion hazzanut in the 20 th cen-
tury, beginning with the ones who flourished from 1910 to 1940, an era that
has been dubbed "The Golden Age of Hazzanut." One might also refer to
that group in Mishnaic terms, amending the vocalization of Dor hamidbar
("The Generation of the Wilderness"; Mishnah Sanhedrin 9.3) to read: Dor
ham'daber ("The Generation that still speaks to us").

Its heyday (BLAZE OF DAY) coincided with the mass immigration of
Eastern European Jews to America early in the last century, when star "can-
tors were elevated... into local and, occasionally, national celebrities." 1

A lack of available funds during the Great Depression of the 1930s
squelched thoughts of congregations continuing to engage high-salaried
cantors. World War II (DARKNESS AT NOON) and its annihilation of Eu-
ropean Jewry along with its sh'lihei tsibbur, precluded any concern other than
the global effort to defeat Fascism. In its aftermath, the earlier efflorescence
of high hazzanic art was bravely imitated but could hardly be equaled by
American-born cantors whose ties to Europe and its old-fashioned religious
folkways had all but disappeared along with those of their constituents.

The 1950s and 1960s (GOLDEN SUNSET) witnessed Conservative Juda-
ism's greatest spurt of growth as it successfully accommodated the require-
ments of tradition to the preferences of modernity. Its services — featuring
mixed seating— initially retained most of the Orthodox liturgy, led by a cantor
and often accompanied by mixed choir. In the 1970s a generation came of
age, that was meagerly versed in Jewish religious practice and even less so in
the Hebrew language. By the time they assumed congregational leadership
roles, "the cantor's role as an emblematic figure for the larger community in
dramas of American Jewish life" 2 had all but faded from collective memory.
So too, in synagogues where hazzanic chant at the prayer Amud had supplied
the motive force in worship, it was now usurped by rabbinic speech from the
preaching pulpit.

1 Jeffrey Shandler, Jews, God, and Videotape: Religion and Media in America
(New York and London: New York University Press), 2009: 24

2 Shandler, op. cit, p. 51.

5

At the heart of hazzanut had been its emotional pull, a world apart from
intellectually driven synagogue experience. One of Conservative Judaism's
leading thinkers, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, cautioned his colleagues
against allowing this to happen:

Unfortunately, some rabbis seem to think that their task is to teach
popular Wissenschaft (Science of Judaism), and as a result some
services are conducted as if they were adult education programs.
Dwelling on the historical aspects they discuss, for example, the
date of composition of the prayers, the peculiarities of their literary
form or the supposedly primitive origin of some of our laws and
customs. What about the spirit of prayer? ... Explanation kills
inspiration. 3
What originally had been intended as a well-meant signal to synagogue new-
comers that a new section of the liturgy was about to begin, has mushroomed
into a total distortion of the dynamic that had always driven Jewish worship:
spontaneous interplay between a designated prayer leader and those being
led. Services have evolved into a non-stop series of directives: "We rise," We
are seated," "We turn to page such and such," "We join together in reading,"
"We join together in singing," "We join together in chanting;" one leader of
a so-called "Friday Night Alive!" experience proclaimed just before the final
strophe of L'kha Dodi: "we now rise and dance spontaneously in the aisles." 4
Inanities like the foregoing, delivered not by a prayer-leading hazzan, but
by a rabbi whose primary function until the mid- 19 th century had been to lead
study and legislate halakhah, were avoided over the centuries, and for good
reason. A worshiper's unconscious mind will resist any attempt to engage it
directly. Prayer best approaches the unconscious indirectly, even seductively.
As psychiatrist Milton H. Erickson taught: "A person cannot respond sponta-
neously if he is following a directive." 5 Over a millenium earlier, the Midrash
had arrived at a similar conclusion: "A community cannot be compelled to
act against its own will." 6

3 Abraham Joshua Heschel, "The Spirit of Jewish Prayer" Proceedings of the
Rabbinical Assembly of 'America, Vol. 17, 1953: 170.

4 The writer's personal recollection of a guest rabbinical student imported by
Conservative Congregation Beth Zion-Beth Israel of Philadelphia from the nearby
Reconstructionist Rabbinical College for this special occasion.

5 Jay Haley, Uncommon Therapy: The Psychiatric Techniques of Milton H.
Erickson, M.D. (New York: Norton), paperback edition, 1993: 21.

6 Sifra, commentary on Leviticus 22: 29, Emor, 10: "Offer of your own free will."

A cantor's rhapsodic chant — with its meaningful allusions to other moments
in people's lives— developed as a means of skirting that reflexive impasse. It
offered fleeting musical references that were ignored on any conscious level
of awareness but picked up by the scanning mechanism of our unconscious
where they joined a host of inchoate feelings that lay buried deep within our
psyches. There they invited those otherwise unutterable feelings to reveal
themselves while enabling us to connect with them. At that instant the pres-
ent moment and its distractions temporarily faded from consciousness as
worshipers get in touch with their inner selves. Whatever instructions now
issue forth from the Bimah interfere with that emergent awareness of our
ultimate place in God's universe. Such supplementary remarks do not simply
interfere with the flow of worship, they stop it dead in its tracks.

The consequent fragmentation of services left the professional cantorate in
a generation-long state of limbo from which it had just begun to emerge, when
a shrunken economic and demographic climate led to an inevitable dearth of
openings for full-time professional cantors (PALE DUSK). 7 The shortage of
positions is serious enough to warrant reconsidering the multiple nature of
cantorial function throughout history. At various times in the past the hazzan
served as synagogue prayer leader, community surrogate in prayer, officer of
the judiciary, preacher, judge, Bible reader, scribe, ritual slaughterer, teacher
of Bible and Mishnah, and officiator at birth- circumcision-marriage-and-
death. 8 Current circumstances, especially in smaller communities, would
suggest the imminent return of a dual ministry for the hazzan— whether
cantor-educator, cantor-executive director, cantor-pastor or cantor-music
director. This would be anything but an innovation; a multi-faceted hazzanic
function had first emerged in the Middle Ages, and persisted into the mid-
19* century in Eastern Europe as well as the United States. 9

To conclude on a brighter note, audience reaction to a recent cantorial
graduate's Masters recital on the subject of David Roitman and Joseph Shlisky,
presented at HUC's School of Sacred Music, gives evidence that elements of
virtuostic hazzanic style from almost a century ago are indeed retrievable:
Daniel Mutulu sang eight full-length compositions in Ashkenazic
pronunciation, with the exact dialect of each hazzan imitated perfectly.

7 Sue Fishkoff, "Singing the Blues? Economy Declining, Membership Putting the
Pinch on Cantors;" "Last Huzzah for Chazzans? Orthodox Cantors Face Diminishing
Opportunities," Jewish News Weekly of Northern California, September 26, 2008.

8 Joseph A. Levine, "A Modest Synagogue Proposal," Midstream, August/
September 1984: 40-4.

9 Salo W. Baron, A Social and Religious History of the Jews, VII (New York:
Columbia University Press), 1958: 81.

The result was a transportation of everyone in that room to a different
place and time.

To me, this was an important moment in the history of the American
cantorate. That a young person could achieve this without having grown
up in the milieu is revolutionary. This was not someone simply replicating
a few flashy dreydlekh; the man tapped into the true art of hazzanut. Every
t'nuah was executed perfectly, both vocally and with proper kavvanah.
When it was over, the room exploded in a way I had never seen it explode
before. If this young man could elicit that kind of reaction as a novice, it's
hard to imagine the impact his art will have once he begins to channel the
Old Masters' insights through his own unique personality.

To this report by HUC faculty member Hazzan Jack Mendelson, 10 we
must add the fact that "cantorial music is growing more public among Ha-
sidim, whose services typically emphasize ardor rather than vocal flourish." 11
Aside from acquiring CDs of restored recordings by old-timers like Yossele
Rosenblatt, writes correspondent Joseph Berger in The New York Times, "many
Hasidim... sneak away from their own synagogues to hear... the cantor at a
non-Hasidic synagogue." 12 Not only that, but as British cantorial afficionado
David Prager 13 wrote recently,

... there has emerged a veritable wave of highly gifted, mainly Hasidic
cantors, some trained in Israel as a result of the devoted work of teachers
such as Eli Jaffe and Naftali Herstik. 14 The new cantorial stars include
Yitzchok Meir Helfgott whose fame enabled him to fill New York's
Metropolitan Opera House, Yaakov Yosef Stark, Zalman Wirtzberger,
Techezkel Klang, Yaakov Rosenfeld, Zalman Baumgarten, and Yehoshua
Samuels. Their appearances, often in Hassidic garb with full beards and
peyes (sidelocks), coupled with their traditionally authentic East European
pronunciation of Hebrew, seem to generate an additional natural affinity
with cantors of old.
The 21st century's first decade has witnessed the emergence of CD recod-
ings featuring successful collaborations of cantors with jazz-and-classical
musicians: Aaron Bensoussan with Uri Caine in Urlicht/Primal Light 15 (an

10 Excerpt from Jack Mendelson, posting on Hazzanet, March 17, 2008; subject:
A Hazzanic Golden Age — Redux.

11 Joseph Berger, "Bit by Electronic Bit, a Cantor's Voice Is Restored," The New
York Times, July 21, 2010.

12 Idem.

13 David R. Prager, "The Hasified Word of Hazzanut— Seen by an Analytic Can-
torholic," Journal of 'Synagogue Music, Fall, 2009: 113-114.

14 Those interested further in this aspect should consult— www.taci.org.il— the
website of the Tel Aviv Cantorial Institute.

15 Music Edition Winter & Winter, Munich, 1997.

interweaving of hazzanut and movements from Mahler symphonies); Al-
berto Mizrahi with David Chevan on Yizkor/Ihe Afro American Experience 16
(Music of memory set to jazz rhythms); and a currently envisioned project of
"bringing together Yitzchok Meir Helfgott and Izhak Perlman, hoping it will
get Ashkenazic khazones back into the mainstream." 17 From these develop-
ments one might even conclude that there is reason to hope for the future of
hazzanut in the coming decades.

JAL

In the November 1979 issue oiJSM (9.3), a mistaken attribution was given for
the following poem. We are pleased to reprint it here with the correct name
of its author, and to note that a Centennial edition of Hayim Plutzik's poetry,
Apples From Shinar, is being published this year by Wesyelan University Press.

IF CAUSALITY IS IMPOSSIBLE,
GENESIS IS RECURRENT

The abrupt appearance of a yellow flower
Out of the perfect nothing, is miraculous.
The sum of Being, being discontinuous,
Must presuppose a God-out-of-the-box
Who makes a primal garden out of each garden.
There is no change, but only re-creation
One step ahead. As in the cinema
Upon the screen, all motion is illusory.
So if your mind were keener and could clinch
More than its flitting world flashing and dying
Projected out of a tireless, winking Eye
Opening and closing in immensity-
Creating, with its look, beside all else
Always Adamic passion and innocence,
The bloodred apple or the yellow flower.

Hyam Plutzik (1912-1962)

Available at <<www.chevan.addr.com>>.

Hankus Netsky, in an emailed communication to the editor, August 6, 2010.

Setting the Stage:
when Salomon Sulzer met Pinchas Minkowsky

(1804-1890) (1859-1924)

By Akiva Zimmermann 1

The influence that Salomon Sulzer had over European communities east
and west would carry over well into the 20 th century. Coincidental with
his retirement, the first cantorial organization was founded in Vienna
(1881), as well as the first cantorial periodical {Kantoren Zeitung). The
latter merged with Varheit in 1899, and both the organization and the
periodical lasted until Austria's Anschluss with Nazi Germany in 1938.
Sulzer's Schir Zion part I, the first cantorial thesaurus to be published in
Vienna, had appeared in 1839, and engendered a host of similar collections
over the next 100 years.
In addition to being a hazzan of the first rank, Pinchas Minkowsky also
researched Jewish music and wrote numerous articles that have yet to be
included in a volume devoted to hazzanut and its origins. He was blessed
not only with a mellifluous lyric tenor voice and impeccable musicianship,

1 Vienna— the City of Cantors (Tol'dot ha-hazzanut b'vinah), Tel Aviv: B'ron

Yahad, 2009, pp. 103-105, tr. JAL. Akiva Zimmermann is a much sought-after lecturer
and journalist. His most recent JSM article, "The Hasidic World's Attitude towards
Hazzanut," appeared in the FALL 2009 issue.

10

but also with a felicitous literary style. Collections of his "Papers" (R'shumot),
that were published first in Odessa and later in Tel- Aviv, focus on his work in
Jewish folklore, and were edited by Alter Druyanov, Chaim Nachman Bialik
and Yehoshua Chana Ravnitzky.

In an autobiographical section, Minkowsky tells of his adventures in the
world of hazzanut and about his cantorial teachers and mentors. He often
mentions Salomon Sulzer and the influence that pioneering modern cantor
still exerted two generations later.

When Minkowsky was appointed cantor in Khershon (Ukraine), he was sent
to Vienna — at the community's expense — to study with Sulzer and to acquire
a thorough knowledge of European culture. With a sharp pen, Minkowsky
describes the Viennese cantors he heard, as well as the way services were
conducted in that city. He tells how Sulzer 's former students brought the
Master's compositions and performance style to the cities of Eastern Europe.
Unfortunately, by the time Minkowsky arrived in Vienna, Sulzer was already
retired, his post now filled by Joseph Singer (1841-1911). Minkowsky writes:
Not for the sake of Singer and his like did my spirit move me to leave
Khershon and journey to Vienna, but for the sake of Sulzer himself, the
man from whose mouth a new approach had gone forth to all corners of
the diaspora. One day, after inquiring at the Kehillah 2 headquarters as
to the exact hours that Sulzer entertained visitors, I stood at the door of
his dwelling and rang the bell. His daughter, a professor of piano, opened
the door and invited me into a drawing-room that opened right off the
corridor. I felt my heart beat excitedly within me; I was about to face
Sulzer, who had previously been revealed to me only in dreams.
After a minute or so, Sulzer entered the room. I saw standing before me
a distinguished older gentleman, rather tall, his face cleanly shaven, his
long wild hair white as snow and soft as silken threads. He wore a black
robe that reached the soles of his shoes. Through his spectacles peered
eyes that seemed to bore into the innermost recesses of my being.
He remained silent for moment and then, in a tone of voice both charming
and pleasant, asked:

Whom do I have the pleasurable honor of welcoming to my humble
home?

Trying with all my might to reign in my racing emotions, I replied:
I am the hazzan of Kershon, and my congregation has sent me to the
renowned Professor, that I might hear Zion's Songs issuing forth from
the mouth of their creator.

2 Municipally recognized "Jewish Religious Community."

Sit down, my son, I am happy to have you here. Furthermore, you know
that I hold the Khershon congregation in highest regard; this is the second
time it has sent me its hazzan. I still remember Wolf ShestapoP as a young
man; he was extraordinarily talented. Still, I am of the opinion that it is
not the hazzanim who need to be sent here, but the Russian congregations
themselves! For, of what use is it to train hazzanim, when the congregations
retain their corrupt taste? And as for you, my son (he added with a sigh),
I regret that it's a bit late in the game. By now I've grown old, no longer
able to sing — or even to demonstrate. And from Singer and Schiller 4 I'm
afraid you will learn very little... Have you heard Singer?
Yes, sir, I have.
And what is your opinion?

I only wish that I hadn't heard him! Couldn't the Vienna Temple find a
more suitable successor to the creator of a New Song for Israel?
A faint smile played upon Sulzer's lips as he said:
Of course it could. But it chose not to do so for reasons that are well
known. 5

Then Sulzer began asking me about the status of hazzanim in Russia, about
how his former students were doing, and about the condition of Russian
Jewry in general. He opened a large cabinet which housed testimonials
of various sorts that he'd received from monarchs and officials in many
European countries. Among these were two gold medals from Tsar
Alexander II of Russia, a statuette from the French government, and so
on and so on...
After his tenure in Khershon ended, the Ukranian-born Minkowsky went onto serve in
Lemherg and Odessa. He spent three years at the Kahal Adas Yeshurun in New York
(1888-1891), and was recalled to Odessa as chief cantor of the Brody Synagogue, an
office he held for 30 years while collaborating with choirmaster/music director David
Nowakowsky (1848-1921) in perfecting what became a benchmark for the East Euro-
pean Khorshul tradition. Minkowsky played a prominent role in Odessa's flourishing
intellectual life. He lectured at the Jewish Conservatory, chaired the Hazamir Musical

3 Already deceased at this time, Shestapol (1831-1872) had, after his studies with
Sulzer, established the so-called Khorshul— or chorally supported— order of service in
Khershon and was thereafter known as Velvele Khershoner. The melody by which he is
best known, a perennial congregational favorite, is the one beginning b'-hayyeikhon...
and I'-eila. . . in the Musaf Kaddish for Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur (Macy Nulman,
Concise Encyclopedia of Jewish Music, New York: McGraw-Hill, 1975: 224.

4 Josef Singer (1841-1911), Sulzer's assistant, succeeded him as Oberkantor;
Isaac Schiller (1845-1918), became Singer's assistant.

5 Sulzer may have been alluding to the endemic rabbinic aversion for sharing
a pulpit with any hazzan of repute.

12

Society, and published numerous articles in Hebrew, Yiddish and German. The two
most enduring of his musical settings are for Psalm 126 — Shir ha-ma'a-lot b'-shuv
adonai — commonly misattributed to Yossele Rosenblatt (1882-1933) whose record-
ing first popularized it, and Chaim Nachman Bialik's poem Shabbat hamalkah —
"Sabbath the Queen" (Yehoshua Leib Ne'eman, "Pinchas Minkowsky" Encyclopedia
Judaica, 1972, 12:35).

Shir hama'alot

Text: Psalm 126

Music: Pinchas Minkowsky
Arrangement: Joseph A. Levine

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My Debut as aM'shoreir
By Boris Thomashefsky (1869-1939)

[Editor's Note:] All the great 20 th -century

hazzanim served as m'shor'rim (choristers) to

other cantors as children. Being gifted with su-
perior voices, they were routinely given choice

solos to sing. The dynamics of a congrega-
tion doting over any child soloist, especially

among the womenfolk at High Holiday time,

did not vary greatly from village to village in

Eastern Europe. One possible justification for

the sharing of remarkably similar memories

of the experience by so many, was provided by

Sigmund Freud. 1

It may indeed be questioned whether we have any memories at all from
our childhood; memories relating to our childhood may be all that we
possess. Our childhood memories show us our earliest years not as they
were but as they appeared at the later periods when the memories were
aroused. In these periods of arousal the childhood memories did not, as
people are accustomed to say, emerge; they were formed at that time. And
a number of motives, with no concern for historical accuracy, had a part
in forming them, as well as the selection of the memories themselves.
Be that as it may, the famous— and vocally gifted— Yiddish actor Boris

Thomashefsky once recalled what it was like to perform as a child soloist in

the Great Synagogue of Kaminke, Ukraine.

It's true that I'm no khazn. However, I feel so linked to the larger cantorial
family that had not fate swept me up in the theatrical stream I might easily
have entered the professional cantorate. I've often thought it might have been
more fulfilling to stand at the amud and pray on behalf of all Israel than to
portray all sorts of characters for them onstage. To prove it I'd like to describe
a scene from my first childhood experience as a meshoreir.

When I was five years old my zeyde, Reb Yankel the Kaminker khazn,
discovered in me a great voice. Not only my zeyde, may he rest in peace; my
father, who was a musician and played fiddle, also said that I would grow

1 "Screen Memories," The Standard Edition of the Complete

Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Anna Freud, James Strachey & Angela Richards,
eds. (London: Hogarth Press), 1953: 322.

15

into a great singer. The proof was my ability to imitate all the m'shor'rim. I
rumbled like a bass, yelled like a tenor, brayed like an alto, and chirped like a
soprano. I even imitated zeyde, who used to make trills and staccati in what
was called afalsetto.

It was a foregone conclusion among the whole family and also among quite
a few townfolk, including the gabbai of the shul that little Borukhl must sing
the Adon Olam at the conclusion of the Kol Nidre service. Sure enough, the
entire town waited upon my debut and I myself counted the days and begged
God to hasten the arrival of Yom Kippur so that I might show all of Kaminke
what I can do.

As luck would have it, shortly before Yom Kippur I caught cold. My throat
swelled and the doctor pronounced my condition to be grave. I underwent a
regimen of home remedies that included — among others — teyglakh (honey-
soaked, baked dough balls) and gogl-mogl (hot milk, raw egg and honey),
which were worse than the sickness. Worse still was the fear that I wouldn't
be able to sing Adon Olam.

On the Eve of Yom Kippur, after feverish days of lying terrified in bed, my
bubbe consoled me: "God is, after all, our Father in Heaven... He can still
take pity ... By nightfall you'll be well enough to sing the Adon Olam." Finally,
twilight arrived. Grandfather put on the white kitl (linen shroud) with itsgartl
(silken ritual belt) and shtrayml (broad-rimmed fur hat); father also. Mother
and bubbe dressed up in their festive best.

I lay crying, wanting to go with them to shul but unable even to raise my
head off the tear-stained pillow. They all blessed me, kissed me, and assured
me they would pray on my behalf. Then they left me in care of the maidser-
vant, an old Gentile lady.

Brokenhearted and aching all over, I crept to the window. With my burning
forehead sticking to the cold glass I watched whole families walking, march-
ing, almost running to undergo God's judgement and forgiveness. Children
my age were carrying miniature makhzorim, jumping in festive glee, while
I contended with my body-racking pains. I was too young to have merited
such punishment from the Ribono Shel Olam— I hadn't yet had the chance
to sin against Him. Why, then, was He preventing me from singing to Him?

Then all was quiet outside. The old maidservant lay down to sleep on the
floor beside my bed and began snoring. I went to the door and opened it.
The Great Synagogue was not far. I heard my zeyde's voice: Kol Nidre... and
the m'shor'rim answered with the familiar Skarbove (traditional) responses.
Among the voices I recognized my father's, and like a wounded kitten I slinked

back to bed and nursed the ever-intensifying stabbing sensation in my throat.
Unable to bear it any longer I cried out, waking the maidservant who tried to
comfort me. "May the Father, the Son & the Holy Mother speedily heal you,"
she implored, while wrapping a hot compress around my throat. I lay back
exhausted, feeling unlucky, unwanted, and fell asleep.

I dreamt that I was healthy, standing at the amud of the Great Synagogue
next to zeyde and father, among the m'shor'rim, singing easily with such emo-
tion, with such a Jewish krekhts (sob) that my treble rang like a finely-tuned
instrument and every other boy in the shtetl envied me.

All at once, such a pain took hold of me that I thought a catastrophe had
occurred. My throat felt as if it had torn apart. I wanted to scream, but could
only bleat like a lamb. The maidservant heard me and ran over, frightened.
She lifted my head and began to shout so loud that a few of the neighbors'
children who hadn't gone to Kol Nidre came running. They, too, began to
holler and cry; thinking that would "save" me.

When the maidservant had calmed me (and them) down, she gave me
the good news that my fever had broken and that I'd soon be back in good
health. It was true. I could breathe freely again and started playing with the
neighbors' children. The house rang with our high-pitched laughter. I forgot
all about Kol Nidre and the infamous Adon Olam that I was supposed to be
tossing off later that night.

The games ended when the old maidservant sent my playmates home
out of concern that I might overexert myself and suffer a relapse. I was soon
tucked in once more and she was back on the floor, snoring. Again I could
hear my zeyde's voice from the shul, and my father's voice, the men's wailing,
the women's weeping ...

Young as I was, I longed to be with zeyde, with father, chanting along with
the Hebrew prayers, singing ... I tried to sing the Adon Olam . . . very weakly. . .
my throat sore... the voice cracking... impossible to hold a steady tone. The
old maidservant didn't stir — and a childish plan took shape in my mind. If
she hadn't awakened at my croaking, what was to prevent me from dressing
in my holiday suit and stealing over to the shul?

That's exactly what I did: washed, dressed, wrapped a white scarf around
my neck and skipped out of the house like a young goat. I hardly felt the
ground under my feet. My heart beat so rapidly that my head spun, my knees
almost buckling from having laid in bed so long. But my happiness overrode
any giddiness, and I pushed headlong into the crowd that overfilled the Ka-
minske synagogue.

I wormed my way to zeyde's side. He stood at the amud wrapped in a huge
old-fashioned woolen tallit over his kitl. To steady myself I grabbed the gartl
that encircled his waist. Zeyde shuddered, father held my other hand tightly.
A stir went through the congregation.

The next thing I knew, I was lying face up behind the Holy Ark. The shul
was quiet as a cemetery. The great wax candles burned furiously with a holy
flame. The men in their white shrouds looked like heavenly angels. The sham-
mash rapped three times for silence.

And what did my childish eyes behold? At the amud stood a small boy — my
friend, actually— who, like me— assisted my zeyde in chanting the prayers.
His name was Yisroelke, and he evidently was about to sing my Adon Olam.
That realization hit me harder than any discomfort I had felt earlier. I would
not let it happen!

In a flash I was up on my feet, springing like a feral cat up the few steps to
the amud. I pulled Yisroelke off the amud, took his place and, without waiting
for the m'shor'rim to give me a tone, I bellowed out Adon Olam. 2

Zeyde kissed me. Father hugged me to his heart. Men lifted me aloft. The
women would not leave me alone. My mother was the luckiest one in town,
and the old folks kept saying they would remember my Adon Olam in the
World to Come...

This Yiddish vignette is excerpted and translatedfrom Tomashefsky's "Reminiscences
of a Former Meshorer," Di geshikhte fun khazonus, ed. Aaron Rosen (New York:
Khazonim Farband), 1924: 60-63.[JAL]

2 Abraham Baer's "Adon Olam for S'lihot" (Baal t'fillah, 1877: no. 241),
published three years after Thomashefsky's debut as am 'shorer, probably approximates
the mood of the one that young Borukhl sang to conclude the Kol Nidre Night
service. This arrangement for cantor and choir is by Hugo Weisgall for his father
Abba Yosef Weisgal's post-Holocaust book, SHIREI HAYYIM VE-EMUNAH
(Baltimore: 1950, p. 6). The self-published collection was intended, n the composer's
words, "as a partial replacement for all the Jewish spiritual values that were lost."

A don olam
for S'lihot

Text: Solomon Ibn Gabriol
11th Century Spain

Music: Abraham Baer, Baal T'flllah

1877, no. 241

Arrangement: Hugo Weisgall, in

Shirei Hayyim Ve'emunah

Adolph Weisgal, 1950

New Light for a New Century:
Gershon Sirota (1874-1943)

Gleaned from many sources

In the year 1901 a so-called Century of

Progress had just ended. From its certainty

that the human condition would continue

to improve came musical settings like

Sham'ah va-tismah tsiyon ("Zion Will Hear

and Rejoice"; Psalms 97:8-12) — composed

by David Ayzenstadt (1889-1942) in Ado-

nai malakh, the prayer mode of optimism.
The poet Browning might have had this

psalm in mind when he penned the line,

"God's in his heaven — all's right with the

world." 1 Sham'ah va-tismah tsiyon 2 was popularized via phonograph recording

in 1906 by Gershon Sirota, the great cantor of Warsaw, of whom the following

accolade was written by critic Benedict Stambler:

Possessor of a remarkable tenore robusto voice, Sirota developed a wide
reputation early in his career. His was considered by many to be the
greatest synagogue voice of the 20 lh century. Non-Jewish critics regarded
him as the only cantor who could be ranked with classical singers, often
comparing him to Enrico Caruso. He began as a cantor in Odessa. At
the turn of the century he moved from there to the Great Synagogue of
Vilna. Eight years later he and his choir director, Leo Low (1878-1962)
were called to the Tlomackie Synagogue of Warsaw where he officiated
until 1926. During Sirota's tenure there, services were religious musical
events to which thousands flocked. 3
Gershon Sirota, together with Barukh Schorr and Zavel Kwartin were

among the first cantors to make recordings of synagogue prayers. Many who

were in positions of leadership objected vociferously to the practice, the highly

respected Hazzan Pinchos Minkowsky (1859-1924) among them. Professor

Hayyim Chernowitz, known as Rav Tsa'ir, published an open letter to the

officials (gabba'im) of Tlomackie suggesting that they raise Cantor Sirota's

1 Robert Browning, Pippa Passes, 1841, pt. 1, 1: 222.

2 L'david mizmor, Liturgical Compositions by David Aizenstadt, ed. Israel Alter,
Johannesburg, ca. 1950, pp. 6-10.

3 After B. H. Stambler, liner notes to Sirota Sings Again, Collectors Guild LP
CG 591, 1959.

20

salary on condition that he not record. 4 Hazzan Avraham Moshe Bernstein
(1866-1932), whose compositions were among those featured by Sirota on
his first contracted set often platters for Deutsche Gramofon, said: "If I were
Rothschild I would buy up all the recordings of hazzanut in the world and burn
them as a Jew burns hamets before Pesah." In reaction to such criticism the
Directors of Sirota's synagogue took what was for them an unprecedented step.
They forbade their hazzan from fulfilling any further recording engagements
unless he first left his cantorial robe and cap in custody of the shammash.

That was the way the Tlomackie Synagogue smoothed over any ripples
that appeared on the surface of its orderly cosmopolitan world. Its membership
list included the wealthiest industrial magnates of Poland's capitol, aristocrats
who would never think of allowing themselves to be driven in their private
carriages directly to the temple on Shabbat. Instead they told their drivers in
advance to let them off a block away; they then walked up to the synagogue's
elaborately landscaped entrance, set back discreetly from the street, fronted
by two large marble candelabras and flanked on either side by colonnaded
porticoes built in the spacious 16 th -century Palladian style. 5

Amid those palatial surroundings a type of worship flourished that was
known as T'fillat ha-seider— orderly worship. Polished and predictable, it
offered a highly formal service in which even the cantor's coloratura excur-
sions were kept under strict control. That was essential if they were to dovetail
with the meticulously prepared choral arrangements of Music Directors Leo
Low (1878-1962) and later David Ayzenstadt (1889-1942) who headed the
superbly prepared male choir.

At its inception, twentieth-century hazzanut, epitomized by the services
at Warsaw's Tlomackie Synagogue and Odessa's Brody Synagaogue under
Music Director David Nowakowsky (1848-1921) and Hazzanim Nissi Blu-
menthal (1805-1903) and Pinchos Minkowsky (1859-1924)— represented the
noble khorshul ("Choral Synagogue") tradition. If one had to pick a scriptural
verse that captured its upbeat mood from 1900 to 1914, it might well have
been:

Or zaru'a la-tzaddik ul'-yishrei leiv simhah...

Light is sown for the righteous, joy for the upright in heart.

Rejoice in Adonai, you righteous ones,

And acclaim the holiness of God,

4 AkivaZimmermann,5Vowyfl/zfld(Tel-Aviv:Central Cantorial Archive), 1988: 100.

5 Samuel Vigoda, Legendary Voices, Vol. I (New York: self-published), 1981:
552-558.

as set to music by Ayzenstadt and recorded by Sirota.

Four decades later, in the Ghetto of Warsaw under Nazi occupation during
World War II, Gershon Sirota would feel the urge to officiate at a Kol Nidre
service for the last time, not having sung it for years. At the age of 69 he could
no longer control his huge voice. It burst forth from the Tlomackie Synagogue
Library's basement where he stood, and carried upstairs to the guards posted
outside to warn against the approach of any German troops who would have
disrupted the prayers and shot worshipers on sight.

As the Kol Nidre prayer progressed, Sirota's powerful tones seemed to
awaken echoes of themselves during former services that he'd led many years
before in the great sanctuary above, resonating from every subterranean cor-
ner, sweeping away pervasive thoughts of deportations, beatings, summary
executions, torture and hunger. The gabba'im who had organized the service
approached their cantor to ask that he modulate his volume downward, for
the mighty sound threatened to bring Nazi retribution upon everyone present.

Sirota appeared befuddled. He could only divert the oral torrent inward.
Those surrounding him saw the great cantor's terrible struggle as he fought
to keep the still-gigantic voice boxed within his now gaunt and shrunken
frame. His trembling became more and more visible as his body shook from
head to toe, tears scalding his hollow cheeks. He was davening inwardly for
a congregation— something he'd never before done in his fabled career.

Finally, he could no longer contain himself. Miy-yom kippurim zeh adyom
kippurim ha-ba aleinu I'tovah escaped his lips in an ear-splitting cry that
ascended on high and seemed to take his soul with it. Sirota had collapsed
at the makeshift amud. He was carried home by the gabba'im, his body still
trembling from the emotional overload. He lay for weeks in that condition
until he expired, his lips softly vibrating like the strings of a harp. 6

6 Shimshon Mikhaeli, "Sirota's Final 'Kol Nidre,'" Yedi'ot, September 28, 1952.
22

Sham'ah va-tismah tsiyon

Text: Psalm 97: 6-12

Music: David Ayzenstadt
(1889-1942)

collected & published by
Israel Alter, Johannesburg, n.d.

Andante Rubato . = 12

\p^ff^r^\ ... -k]

f~^\ /-s '

yad, miy - yad r' sha - im, miy- yad r' - sha - im ya -

! 3 ===3 =^^^ I^==

ho - du, v'

ho - du 1'-
e

My Life in Turn-of-the-Century
Vienna & Its Environs

byZavelKwartin (1874-1952)

Salomon Sulzer's Schir zion is undoubtedly
the best and richest source for a service at
mid-20th century, as I write this looking back
to 1897 Vienna. Even then we thought: of
what value was Sulzer's approach without a
choir? And with a choir there was still no one
to listen to in either of the two great temples.
Oberkantor Singer, who succeeded Sulzer at
the Seitenstettengasse Tempel, did not distin-
guish himself vocally. When he sang in that
bass-baritone of his it sounded as if a peasant
were driving an un-greased wagon: every time
the wheels squeaked, a shudder went through
your heart. He was an intelligent and musical
man, I fact he'd served as an officer in Emperor
Franz Josef's army. But he was simply not familiar with the cantor's art. His
assistant Schiller had a better voice that one could at least tolerate, but he,
too, was nothing to get excited about. As a result, the word went around that
"Singer can't sing and Schiller can't write poetry."

The crown prince among Viennese cantors at that time was Oberkantor
Josef Goldstein who officiated at the Leopoldstadter Tempel. He was a little
man with a huge voice. And as beautiful as his voice was, he couldn't warm the
hearts of our eastern European Jews. In Sulzer's Magein avot, when the bass
sang I'fanav na'avod, Goldstein would yell in unison with him an octave higher.

Week in, week out, you would hear the same settings by Sulzer, over and
over again. The one cantor in Vienna worth hearing was Meyer Schorr of the
Polnischer Tempel, whose son Friedrich sang at the Metropolitan Opera in
New York. The father had a magnificent dramatic baritone and could move
his listeners in either the traditional or the modern style.

Viennese Temple Choirs

At that time synagogue vocal ensembles were not on the highest level. It
seemed as if the choir directors were not the least bit interested in choral
singing. Their conducting style was erratic— almost pointless— and they were
ignorant of the most rudimentary principles of singing. Their main liveli-
hood was earned in other areas. The choral director at the Seitenstettengasse

28

Tempel was a matchmaker; his counterpart at the Leopoldstadter Tempel
was a dance instructor. Both had access to the homes of the wealthy, Baron
Gutman or Salo Kahn, whereas other, truly talented Jewish musicians without
connections, went hungry while the temples were served by these second-
raters. It was actually painful to hear the choral singing; not a hint of piano,
mezza di voce or parlando. The choristers shouted like drunkards trying to
drown each other out. And no one seemed to notice; the Viennese were what
I would call cold, "top-hat" Jews.

I often wondered why Vienna was considered the Paradise of cantorial
song, when I recalled the choirs I had heard but a few months before in the
Odessa synagogues— the Shalashne, the Yevreiske, and especially the Broder
Choral Synagogue. In the last-named, every m'shorer was on constant alert
for the most subtle nuances of rhythm and tone in order to prevent the tini-
est impediment from marring the perfect execution of each composition. I
shall never forget the rehearsals at the Broder Shul, conducted by the famous
Nowakowsky Pinye Minkowsky, the Chief Cantor, attended every one. And
the total devotion that these two great musicians poured into each piece,
the ecstacy and spirituality which they implanted within each chorister, was
met by an equally intense effort on the part of the singers to satisfy every
desire of their accomplished guides. It's true that in Vienna I learned Sulzer's
compositions for the first time. But as for the performance of these composi-
tions, Vienna was not the place to learn anything. Toward that end I had to
remember the sonorities that Minkowsky and Nowakowsky achieved in the
Broder Shul, where it seemed as if heavenly angels were singing on high to
the Creator of this beautiful universe.

My Family's Views of the Cantorate

Despite the fact that at a concert I had given in Lodz in 1897, the accompa-
nist was an eight-year-old Artur Rubenstein, my father-in-law back home in
Russia berated me with the following in a letter.

You have besmirched our good name. Until now, thank God, there have
been only respectable businessmen. From where does a cantor come to
our family — a beggar, a loafer? That my refined daughter should become
a cantor's wife, a beggar's wife, whose pot every Jewess will consider it
her right to inspect — that my son in law should chase weddings and
circumcisions, funerals and unveilings, mumbling t'hillim and hazkarot
and then having to stretch forth his hand in the hope that someone will
take pity on him and donate a few kopeks — it's unthinkable! And to top
it all, you went to Vienna to study and learn how to become — a beggar?

That trade you could have learned in a place like Shnipishok, or perhaps
even in your own backwater shtetl.
To show that blood is thicker than water, here is what my own father
had to say on the subject.

He who says that to be a cantor is to descend to beggary, or lower, makes a
little mistake. The cantor has been the public prayer emissary of his people
for a thousand years of Jewish history, an advocate of our cause before
the Almighty. Through his singing he expresses our sorrow and our joy,
our hopes for a better future and our hopes for the rebuilding of Zion in
our eternal Land. It is therefore shameful to utter even one negative word
against the highest privilege that we as a folk can bestow— to plead for the
health, happiness and sustenance of fellow Jews. I shall never forget the
quickening of spirit I witnessed among Jews when my son officiated one
weekend, the wonderful elevation of plain people driven all week under the
yoke of earning a livelihood. When Shabbos arrived, the cantor— through
his moving prayer— transported them to a different world. They became,
in fact, different beings— finer, more exalted. Would you have me believe
this is beggary?

Impressions of Galicia and of a Changed Cantorate

In those days cantorial candidates officiated gratis at audition Sabbaths.
In lieu of a fee, Torah honorees pledged contributions for the guest khazn.
On Sunday morning he and the shammash started going around to collect,
which usually took the better part of a week, during which time the khazn
had eaten up his profits. Another collection for him then had to be made in
order for him to travel home.

The Lemberg Jews were ever-ready, without judge or judgement, to place
a stranger under the Ban (heirem). The rabbis controlled Jewish life, and
slander controlled the rabbis. Among Galician Jews the main topic of con-
versation was: whose Wonder rabbi is the best, the wisest and the greatest
miracle worker.

Small-town cantorial wages in Galicia were only 600 kronen a year. An
itinerant khazn could count on 10-12 kronen from post-Shabbos collections,
18 kronen for concerts, and 50 kronen for the entire Passover. One Pesah I
asked for 200 kronen and got it. In my long practice as a cantor I never stopped
thinking, studying or immersing myself ever deeper into the inexhaustible
well of Jewish song. I sought to surround myself with each word of the liturgy,
the better to interpret them for my listeners. At the prayer Amud, my entire
being burned with a flame that the congregation knew how to fan.

Now, as I write these thoughts down a half-century after the fact, I'd have
to say that the Golden Age of hazzanut is over; new times bring new songs.
Today's cantor is less a messenger than a mechanic. He has become a sacrificial
offering on the altar of the modern rabbi. The cantor allowed himself to be
demoted from the treasured place he held in Jewish hearts — and it's a tremen-
dous loss. Looking back at myself in the Vienna of 1903 I'd have to admit that
I was a country bumpkin next to the elegantly turned-out, German-speaking,
Van-Dyke bearded Viennese. The president of my shul in Vienna — Wilhelm
Beck of Beck & Son, Clothier by Appointment to the Emperor— said about
strangers: "We want no Russians, no foreigners; we want only Austrians!"

Still, as rough-around-the-edges as I might have been at the time, I can
only say of my competitors for the cantorial post at the newly-built 150-seat
Fareinstempel in Josefstadt: it's a shame that these were called "cantors." They
had no hint of the traditional chant or even of acceptable vocal quality. Yet
there was no viable alternative when it came to making a living in Vienna.
The saying went: "Better a theatre chorister than a synagogue m'shorer"
Four days before Shavuot I was hired. The fee was 100 kronen, no choir. So I
prepared a middle way— not too Orthodox and not too choral— that would
be acceptable to an upper-class congregant. It worked. My first yearly wages
were well within the average of 1600-2400 kronen.

The New Josefstadt Temple

Salomon Sulzer's son Joseph was a cello virtuoso who occupied first chair in
the Vienna Imperial Opera Orchestra. Two years later he would re-arrange
and re-publish his father's Schirzion, but in 1903 he was engaged to prepare
and direct the Dedication ceremony of the New Josefstadttempel, scheduled
for two weeks before Rosh Hashanah. The baritone Edelman was engaged as
cantor and director of his own mixed choir for a year-plus, beginning imme-
diately and extending through Yamim nora'im of the following year. Had they
been able to start at the New Temple for the impending yom tov of Shavuot
as their contract stipulated, my lot would have been far different. Instead,
they canceled at the last minute, and I stepped in, where beforehand I could
not even beg an audition. Following a successful Shavuot I was engaged as
Oberkantor, and Edelman was consigned to the position oiHazzan sheini.

With the Emperor's approval, the new building was named after the late
Empress: Kaiserin Elizabet Tempel, and the rejoicing among the congrega-
tional officials was such that one might imagine a great deliverance had come
to the Jews! From that day on, no expense was spared to make the Dedication

a memorable event. Joseph Sulzer engaged the best mixed voices in the city;
the result was an organ-sound. A representative of the Emperor was expected
along with the Biirgermeister and other Viennese dignitaries.

Special rehearsals for the Dedication lasted three hours during the day,
while nighttime sessions were devoted to High Holiday repertoire with the
Temple choir. These were in addition to my private lessons in music theory
with Professor Steinschneider. The months between Shavuot and Yamim
nora'im were the hardest in my life; everything depended on the Dedication
ceremony and the High Holiday services. The following selections are what
appeared on the Dedication program:

Mah tovu Sulzer

(Processional)

Ha-notein t'shu'ah (Sulzer; in German)

Mizmor shir Hanukkat (Sulzer; in German)

Pit'hu Li (Sulzer)

(Torah scrolls brought in)

Halleluyah (Sulzer)

Adon olam in C (Sulzer)

Gott Erhalt, Gott Beschiitz (Austrian Hymn)
I was accompanied by a 30-voice operatic choir, plus organ and harp. Jo-
seph Sulzer went over every solo note with me, and Professor Steinschneider
coached every musical and linguistic nuance. The result was an exquisite
harmony between cantor, choir and instruments. Afterwards, Joseph Sulzer
said to me: "When my father (of blessed memory) lived, he was surely never
privileged to hear his own compositions performed so masterfully." The
Dedication was an event, even in Vienna; my local popularity began from
that day on.

I was not quite thirty years old. My new temple held 1,000 seats; because
of the crowds who came to hear Rabbi Dr. Bauer and me conduct services,
they squeezed in 1,500 regularly. A new spirit — which brought with it new
resources— transformed the congregation. I insisted on the insertion of a
clause in my contract: if everything went well in the new building I had the
right to renegotiate (the expected request was 1,500 kronen plus 300 kronen
to bring my family from Russia). When the time was ripe I asked for double
the 1,500 in order to live a bekovedeh (dignified) existence.

Weeks went by and President Beck gave me no answer. During the interim
a position had opened in Bucharest, Roumania, paying the equivalent of 4,000

kronen plus a six-room congregational apartment. Finally, when my pekple
saw how obstinate I was, they offered a five-year contract of 2,000, 2,200, 2400,
2600, 2800. Since Bucharest had beckoned in the meantime, I held out for
3,000 immediately. My father had advised me to avoid Roumania, which he
called a "Land of Amalekites." That convinced me to remain in Vienna, but I
needed to have my family join me, and that would be costly. I finally agreed
to 2,500, 2,600, 2,700, 2,800, 3,000. Among other things, that meant I didn't
have to leave my two closest friends: Smotritsky, who was second cantor at
the Leopoldstadt Temple, and Edelman — my own second cantor — and his
well-trained choir.

While negotiations were still in progress I had been pressured by the
Bucharest congregation until I agreed to audition there ("give probeh"—a
tryout — in the vernacular), for which they paid 200 kronen and offered me
twice what it turned out I would be earning in Vienna. I resisted temptation
and stuck to the new agreement.

My Vienna Routine and Colleagues

I added German lessons to my schedule and still found myself with too much
time. The father-in-law of my assistant choir director. Nyeshvezky, dealt in
decorative wood fabricated in Aleksander, near his home town, Warsaw. This
Mzhivovsky talked me into becoming a wood supplier to Viennese furniture
manufacturers, duped me into paying in advance for fifteen wagonloads of
lumber, and delivered inferior merchandise. Bottom line: what I had earned in
1903 1 lost in 1904. Also, my brother Boris was conscripted during the Russo-
Japanese War, and actually tried to organize the army against the Czar! He
was arrested and scheduled for court-martial, but managed to escape. I then
got him to Vienna where the police hounded him as an anarchist. We finally
sent him to Switzerland, with monthly stipends following regularly. There, his
wife took ill, but accepted no medicine. She was what we might call a "Jew-
ish Scientist." She sat with siddur in hand and read Tzenah ur'enah (Yiddish
prayers for women) all day, claiming "Everything is the will of the Creator."
If that weren't enough, his older son was run over and required six months
of recuperation, therapy and constant attention. I was fast becoming the
relative-of-last-resort, to meet, greet, fete and sustain all fleeing Russian
members of the mishpokhe. My home became a hotel and all family obligations
fell on my shoulders. Expenses mounted, bills went unpaid. One day I read
an announcement in The Cantors' Journal about a vacancy for Oberkantor
in Warsaw's Tlomackie Street Synagogue— Viennese cantors were invited

to apply. I wrote, saying that if they paid my 200 kronen travel expenses, I'd
daven a Shabbos. They eventually agreed to 150 kronen and told me to pick
a date. I did: January 1, 1906.

The Oberkantor at Tlomackie was Grizhandler, very old at the time, and the
choirmaster was Smerling. The choir was in the process of being unionized,
and half its members had been locked out by the synagogue. The other half
belonged to the Bund (Jewish Socialist Party). The Bund bombed the Jewish
cemetery that Friday; no bed of roses had I fallen into. I davened and could
have had the job, but received a telegram from my wife and father, stating— in
no uncertain terms — to return home without delay!

Colleagues and Early Recordings

First among the cantors to record were Czerini (Breslau) and Sirota (Vilna),
both for Deutsche Gramofon in 1906. Other recording companies were
Edison, Pathe Disc, Odeon and Deutsche Victor. I wrote to all four of them;
only Pathe answered. For my unaccompanied audition I sang an undistin-
guished V'shamru. It proved distinguished enough for them to contract for
five pieces, three minutes each, with piano, for 100 kronen, all of which was
spent on re-takes since I hadn't yet learned to time accurately. I broke even,
and the platters came out a week later.

I then turned the tables and auditioned the technical reproduction of these
samples against those of other companies, including His Master's Voice —
Victor in the USA.

Deutsche Gramofon Geselschaft (DDG) was superior, but they paid only
thirty kronen per number and recording was at the artist's expense (versus
40 kronen plus free recording at the others). I decided to stay with DDG,
and recorded the required minimum of platters — ten — and they made quite
an impression.

The Director, Mikhelis, came from Berlin to engage me for a five-year
contract at 3,000 per year, 20 records every year. I stalled; Mikhels told me:
"If you don't agree by tomorrow, we'll engage Sirota" (who had already suc-
ceeded Grinzhandler in Warsaw but was staying temporarily in Vienna).
Something smelled rotten to me. I later discovered that they had offered the
same deal — and warning — to Cantors Sonntag of Bucharest and Goldenberg of
Marienbad. That night, Sirota himself— who happened to be in Vienna — came
to my home and told me that he'd been offered 200 rubles per recording, but
wanted 500. I panicked, and signed, the next day, with DGG— who agreed
to pay for an accompanist— but felt duped nonetheless.

34

Other well-known Vienna cantors in 1906 were: Gutman, Matiash,
Dinneman, Basser, Smotritsky and Josef Grob, who was my new assistant.
Sirota, by then established in Warsaw, stayed at the Hotel Continental, where
eighteen khazonim greeted him, about all the cantors there were in the city.
He'd come at the suggestion of the Tlomackie Synagogue's Board to study
music in the Austrian capitol while the Bund strike paralyzed his choir; if
Sirota dared officiate without the choir, worshipers threatened to disrupt the
service.

The following ten prayers — the first six of which I improvised in the Old
style— were my first DGG recordings (for the transcription of a later recorded
"improvisation in the Old Style," see music at the end of this article *):

Kol adonai

Ahavat olam

V'ha'ofanim

Y'kum purkan

Mi she-beirakh

Al heit

N'kadeish (Nigzvyezshky)

Mah gadlu (Lewandowsky)

B'leil zeh (Sulzer— with choir)

V'Shamru (Dunayevsky)
The recordings sold out so quickly that DGG asked for ten more impro-
visations in the Old Style, which I supplied, with Professor Braslavsky at the
organ, in a single afternoon. For this they paid 1,500 kronen— half a year's
contract. I had completed the first year's obligation of twenty platters in two
months and in June of 1906 1 embarked on a concert tour of Russian shtetlekh
(plural of shtetl), where I again heard snatches of the nusah I had imbibed
during my childhood.

More Recording-and-Other Adventures

After that re-dipping in the well of Eastern European inspiration, I actually
davened better! In January of 1907 the Temple allowed me a second "vacation"

1 Kwartin's music for Leil shimmurim ("Divinely Guarded Night," Semiroth
Zebulon, New York, 1938), a piyyut inserted into the Ma'ariv service for Pesah, is set
here to a similar but more widely known text for Festival evenings: Ki eil shom'reinu
("For You Are Our Divine Guardian").

35

in which to tour that region. In four weeks I gave eight concerts in Vilna and
Bialystok. During my stay in Vilna the Isserlin Brothers, who held the DDG
distributorship for Poland, Lithuania and Kurland, told me they had sold
half-a-million of my records in the previous five months, more than all the
records they'd sold in the previous five years! Supply couldn't keep up with
the pace of demand. On the train back home I thought of the time when I
wouldn't be able to sing — who would then worry about my income? But the
DDG would still be raking in shekels from the recordings I'd made during
the five best prime years of my vocal life.

I sounded out other gramophone companies. Pathe offered three years
at 10,000 kronen a year for 20 recordings per year. Odeon offered three
years at 15,000 kronen a year for 30 recordings per year. Both of these were
"exclusive" offers, the same as my understanding with DGG, which meant
my commitment not to record for other companies for the duration of the
agreement. For advice I approached my Temple's President, Herr Beck, who
recommended Dr. Green, a bright young lawyer. He found in the Austrian
Codex a point of law similar to the Talmudic mekah taut (an agreement made
under a false premise)— where fair value of up to 50% of the real worth is not
received for a contract.

I confronted DGG: "I won't sing for DGG as long as they won't pay me
what I'm worth." The celebrated Vienna State Opera tenor Leo Slezak, also
under exclusive contract to DGG, enjoyed fame second only to that of En-
rico Caruso. He too felt cheated by DGG and, in anger, recorded for Odeon.
DGG had sued him for a quarter-million and was awarded 92,000 kronen
plus costs. But I had not recorded elsewhere; time was on my side, as DGG
needed me now! They offered 4,500; I demanded 15,000. They offered 6,000;
I demanded 15,000— but in the first year, for which I'd already been paid
3,000, 1 would accept 12,000. We settled at 12,000 for each of the five years,
with a few additional points included in the new contract. I would make up
to forty recordings a year with any extra ones paid pro rata and no refusals
permitted. This was in the Autumn of 1906, the most productive period of
my life. Money rolled in along with fame and adulation. I was able to help the
entire family: one brother who was cantor in Stanislav, Galicia, and a second
brother who had just graduated from the Vienna Conservatory as a music
teacher. That brother's wife's condition had worsened and she sank into a
state of melancholy.

Meanwhile, Baron David Guinsberg of St. Petersburg offered me two and-
a-half times what I was earning in Vienna— equivalent to 6,000 rubles— plus
outside income of at least 800 Rubles a year. I hated the thought of leaving

36

Vienna, a civilized society where I'd never had to worry about being called
"Zhid" (the Russian pejorative for "Jew"). I agreed to do a concert for 1,000
rubles. Why? My Russian-born family was captivated by consideration of the
yikhus (status) that accrued to living in St. Petersburg, normally off-limits to
Jews. I, on the other hand, was wary of the bleak Jewish existence that I had
witnessed while travelling through Russia to concertize in various shtetlekh.
My January 1908 tour — by then it had become an annual event — began in
Vilna. The concert there was accompanied by a choir under the direction of
Josef Gotbeter, and included:

K'dushah by Gotbeter,

Adon olam by Sulzer,

Cantorial Improvisations,

Operatic Arias and

German Lieder.
The Chief Cantor in St. Petersburg's Choral Synagogue was Ressel, and
Gurevich directed the 25-voice choir. My program there consisted of:

Mah gadlu by Lewandowsky,

V'shamru by Gurevich,

B'rosh hashanah by Sulzer and

Adon olam by Sulzer.
Another St. Petersburg concert, in the city's largest hall, Dovryansker
Sovranye, was attended by all the assimilated Russo-Jewish elite. It was one
of the four most successful concerts of my career. I thought to myself: here
the children would enjoy special entree to gymnasia and universities. So I
demanded a ten-year contract with three years guaranteed if terminated early
by the congregation. I would be free to leave at anytime simply by giving one
year's notice. They said: "fine"; and I left.

Back home, I told my own synagogue officers about my worries for the
future, mainly over the lack of a pension. I told them about the chance I
suddenly had to better myself while still in possession of my full powers. I
asked if they would therefore get me recognized officially by the Kultusge-
meinde (organized Jewish community) so that at the next opening I could
be appointed Oberkantor for life. To that, the synagogue's vice-president Dr.
Gustave Kahn replied: "No!"

Apparently, there were no exceptions to the established seniority system
in Vienna. Instead, my people offered to buy a 30,000 kronen life insurance

policy for my family. I begged off at this magnanimous gesture. My ailing wife
said to me: "Wherever God leads you, I will go." This quote from the Book of
Ruth wasn't of much help. I had no one to confide in. My eldest child Anna, all
of eight years, said: "Take Petersburg. In Russia we have two zeydes and two
bubbes and lots of uncles and aunts! Maybe Momma will feel better among
her own." That did it, and off I went, alone.

To Russia and Back

Just as I arrived in Russia, Czar Nicholas II called a conference of 32 rabbini-
cal authorities in St. Petersburg, and at the same time he lowered the Jewish
education quota from ten percent to three percent. When they learned of the
decree, 136 promising Jewish youngsters took their own life. St. Petersburg
turned out to be a prison: brutal and Jew baiting. Half my congregation each
week consisted of Gentiles and converts. In June 1909, after eight months of
this, I "visited" Vienna on the pretext of intending to bring my family back
to Russia with me, but secretly vowing never to settle there permanently.

Budapest's Tabak Temple next approached me (in those years, Vienna
and Budapest were sister cities within the Austro-Hungarian Empire). Back
in 1906 I'd been invited to succeed Jacob Bachmann as cantor at Budapest's
ultra-Orthodox Rombach Temple. I hadn't accepted because of a refugee
cantor— my competition— who needed the job more than I did. Also, I had
gotten used to facing the congregation and having a mixed choir and organ.
At Rombach I would have had to forget all that and wear a heavy woolen tal-
ks over my head again! In addition, I would have had to run from the central
Bimah to the prayer Amud up front and recite every Yotseir and K'rovah
(series of piyyutim inserted in Shaharit and Musaf). But the more modern
Tabak Temple would be different. I'd made inquiries at the Tabak back in 1906
and had been told: "Don't worry, when the position is open we'll call you."

Now, three years later, I had three offers: St. Petersburg, Vienna, and Buda-
pest. So I asked the Tabak Tempel for 15,000 ronen a year, and was informed
that only Oberabbiner Dr. Kohn received that. My reply: "I've no objection
if you pay Dr. Kohn 30,000 a year!" They offered me 12,000. By the time I
returned to Vienna, word of the negotiations had apparently preceded me;
my temple was ready to go the limit to get me back.

A Tale of Negotiations in Two Cities

Vienna had 20 Kultusgemeinde temples, whereas Budapest had only 15. Under
the Kultusgemeinde system of seniority there hadn't been a real Oberkan-

38

tor — on the communal level — in Budapest for decades. With the exception
of Bela Gutman, the best cantors served in privately-run synagogues. The
Vienna Kultusgemeinde offered me 8,000 with a 1,000 kronen raise every five
years, plus side income. I countered with 12,000 and the six years I'd served
Kaiserin Elizabettempel counting toward my pension. They could not (or
would not) meet this. Budapest agreed to the 12,000 plus a 1,500 kronen
bonus for signing, 800 kronen for the children's education and 700 kronen
for vacation. My contract would also include the following clause.

This agreement is effective upon receipt of character-reference document
from Oberkantor Kwartin's native state in Russia (Tchestne Povedenye),
to be sent to the Budapest Chief Rabbinate for approval.

I insisted they forget that clause, and waited to hear. That High Holidays I
davened in St. Petersburg, and since I hadn't brought my family as previously
agreed, the existing contract became null and void. Baron Guinzburg was
heartsick with disappointment over this.

Back in Budapest the Kultusgemeinde had to ask the Austro-Hungarian
government for an additional 100,000 kronen to pay off all their communal
religious functionaries who, having learned of the tremendous compensation
I was to receive, were now demanding raises as well. Eventually the Tabak
Board agreed that I was "not under Rabbinical Supervision," but rather the
master of my own fate and a worthy public servant in the full sense of the term.
On a final visit to my boyhood home in Novoarkangels, Ukraine, I imbibed
deeply at the source of Jewish prayer — enough to counterbalance all the years
I'd spent and was going to spend in Germanified countries.

Last stop in Pre-War Europe: Budapest

I came to the Hungarian capitol in December 1910. No announcement was
made of my arrival and as a result, no one came to shul. The Tabak Tempel
seated over 4,000 people, and for the minyan of regulars I refused to daven.
They placed an ad for the second week but it still didn't help — Jews won't
buy a pig in a poke!

The Tabak Tempel Rabbinical staff laid down the law: "Ritual policy is for
the cantor only to begin and end, not to sing entire paragraphs and convert
the temple into a Hasidic kloyzl" They, together with the Cantorial staff of
Lazarus and Licht, mocked me on the Bimah the following Shabbos. It took
six weeks before Jews on the street— peyes and all— began to pack the Temple,
especially on Friday night. The rabbis called a meeting to complain officially
about the "Russian's" lack of cultural awareness and how he'd insulted the

rabbis. I told the Board of Directors: "You brought me here to fill the temple
with worshipers; in eight short weeks I've accomplished that." I then offered
to resign, but they wouldn't hear of it. In fact, President Adler insisted that
the rabbis shake my hand, then and there, in token of support and friendship.
They did, knowing that I had dealt them a permanent blow.

The Tabak Tempel was one of the best cantorial positions in Europe, and
not even my wife's illness could spoil it for me. On my first Yamim nora'im
they had to rent additional space — the Parliament Building with its 1,500
seats— for an overflow service. I alternated with my assistant, Lazarus, and
together we initiated a re-energizing of semi-assimilated Budapest: old and
new would now meet through ritual.

As an investment I bought a six-story apartment building containing 12
units, for 280,000 Kronen, with a down payment of 80,000. In it, the Kwartin
family unit consisted of five rooms. My yearly net, after expenses, was 4,000
kronen from rent. Were it not for the War to End All Wars, I might have
become the richest cantor in history.

Next to the murder of six million by the Nazis a quarter-century later, the
uprooting of the entire Jewish population of Lithuania and Poland during the
First World War seems like child's play But at the time — before the advent of
gas chambers and ovens— the destruction of Eastern European Jewish civili-
zation was a catastrophe theretofore unequalled. Ironically, during the First
World War the German High Command worried over the welfare of Jewish
communities. They actually sponsored me in holding cantorial concerts to
raise money for Passover Matzos! It was the idea of Choirmaster/Organist Leo
Low; he had done similar tours with Cantors Sirota and Hershman previously.

Soldiers of the defeated Austro-Hungarian army returning from the front
were no longer the same men. They would come home as wild beasts not
knowing on whom to take out their anger. They mourned their broken lives,
their wasted youth, their continuing nightmares, their thwarted careers. In
the early Spring of 1920 1, too, said "dayeinu" to the Old World and— trusting
that God will always be shomreinu u-matsileinu ("our guardian and deliv-
erer") — set sail for America.

This article is excerpted and translated from Cantor Zvulun (Zavel) Kwartin's auto-
biography, Mayn lebn (Philadelphia: S. Kamerling), 1952: 140-394. [JAL]

Ki eil shom'reinu

After Zavel Kwarti:
Leil Shimmurim

Piano: Charles Heller

frfeMa^ ^pn - m

n=a-^y g '

nu u-ma-tsi-lei - nu a - tah. Ki eil me-lekh,

5 S=

L — H/ 4 o 1

a | n i— — 3 1 |T|

^ 0\

,» ,^ _^^

Ba-mkh_ a - tah, a - do - nai ha - po - reis,

r\

The World of Yossele Rosenblatt
(1882-1933)
By Joseph A. Levine

On June nineteenth, nineteen hundred and thirty-
three. Yossele Rosenblatt, the most beloved can-
tor of the twentieth century, finally achieved his
life's ambition and died on the sacred soil of Erets
y Israel. His name was really Josef, but it never
appeared that way except in newspapers and on [
record labels, and of course on his gravestone in
Jerusalem. He was buried on the Mount of Olives
cemetery, opposite Sha'ar ha-rahamim, the Mercy I
Gate through which it is said that our final redemp-
tion will come. The Chief Rabbi of Palestine at that |
time, Abraham Isaac Kook began his eulogy ..

Yosefeinenu. Joseph is no more. With these words father Jacob mourned the death
of his favorite son, the one most like himself. Had Jacob not fought with God and
man and prevailed, earning the name Yisrael? And had not Joseph the Dreamer
of Dothan fought and won spiritual battles; and had not Joseph the Viceroy of
Egypt waged a victorious war of survival? So, too, our )oseph—he-hazzan yosef
ben r'foeil v'khaye-soroh— embodied the qualities that best describe any child of
Israel: religiosity directed towards improving the world. For this world— which he
has departed— consists of opposites, at times of light and at times of darkness. At
this moment we stand in gloom. Like Job, "our harp is turned to mourning, and
our flute into bitter tears." Would to God that it were again but two days ago, when
the light of Khazn Rosenblatt's prayer shone upon us in the Hurvah Synagogue
of the Old City. Angels must have helped him achieve the otherworldly davening
that we all marveled over, just as they are surely helping him now, when the song
of his life has suddenly been silenced . . .

He had wanted to be buried high on the Mount of Olives not just be-
cause of its view, but because of the Prophet Ezekiel. Yossele said, "When the
Messiah appears at that summit, Ezekiel will sound his Priestly trumpet that
hasn't been heard since the fall of King Solomon's Temple, and the dead will
come alive." Yossele could be very practical when he wanted. He had figured
out that it would be an easier climb later on if he were buried near the top
to begin with. His loving wife Taube, on the other hand, felt that Mashi'alis
arrival was too far in the future to worry about reserving a ringside seat in
the present. She may have been mistaken. Rabbi Kook had more to say on
the subject a bit later on in his eulogy. For now, a better question might be:
how did the Rosenblatts happen to be in Jerusalem while living in New York?

46

Travel costs money and, to be honest, they weren't wealthy people. After the
failure of Yossele's only business venture, almost every dollar he'd earned over
the last seven years of his life went to creditors.

At this point, dear Reader, you might be thinking that our story would do
better to start where it began, instead of where it ended. So with your kind
permission, let's go back to when Yossele first started singing as a boy-khazn.
The year was eighteen hundred and ninety-one. He was nine years old. His
father R'foeil and mother Khaye-Soroh had produced nine girls before Yos-
sele was born. On a cold, grey December morning in the Austro-Hungarian
portion of Poland known as Galicia, R'foeil had hitched horse to wagon and
was waiting impatiently for Khaye-Soroh to finish bundling up their boy. He
called: "Nu, Yosl, are you coming already?"

From inside the house came a bell-like reply, "Yes, Poppa."

R'foeil shouted back, "Shabbos won't wait, and we've got a healthy journey
to Komarno.

Khaye-Soroh, what is holding up our golden-voiced treasure?" Then he
began to quote from Pirkei Avot: "The day is short. The task is great, the
workers are lazy, and the time is... "

"...Brief,' interjected Khaye-Soroh. "R'foeil, sha\ Enough already. You know
how frail the child is. If he travels without dressing warmly, it will be on your
head. God forbid that he catches cold and cannot sing for the Komarno Rebbe
this afternoon before the Kabbalat shabbat service... "

All right, all right," protested R'foeil, "only how long does it take to tie a
scarf around a neck that's as skinny as a chicken's?" he called again, "Yosl,
are you coming?" Only this time the answer came from right next to him on
the buckboard.

"I'm right here, Poppa, what are we waiting for?"

R'fo'eil sighed to himself, "for this I had to bring a prodigy into the world
after nine trouble-free daughters!" He gave a quick tug on the reins and clicked
his teeth: "Vyo,ferdele.." (giddyup!).

After a while, Yosl the prodigy volunteered, "Poppa, I've memorized every
Mishnah you taught me in Seder n'zikin, the laws of damages; which would
you like to hear: "An ox that gored a cow"?

"No. r ' shot back his father, "we've heard enough about damaged oxen,
cows, bulls and sheep these past few days to start a farm. The way things have
been going lately, better I should listen to the laws of bankruptcy. How about

chapter nine, my boy, the eighth Mishnah, Heikhon pikdoni: "One man said,
'Where is my deposit... '"

As if in proof of the sages' statement that after the Holy Temple's destruc-
tion the gift of prophecy was given to minors, Yosl blurted out: "and the other
said, 'It is lost.'"

"Well," prompted R'foeil, "what if the money is lost?"
"The first man makes him swear to it," answers Yosl in a Talmudic sing-
song. "And the other swears as well. And if witnesses testify that the first man
actually spent the money, then he must pay the value alone. But if he himself
confessed it, he must pay the value plus an additional twenty percent."

"And what if the money were really lost 7 ." challenged R'foeil.

"It goes without saying," rejoined Yosl in his bright alto, "that he is free
from liability!"

R'foeil seemed totally absorbed by his offspring's rejoinder, when suddenly
he groaned: "Oy, It should only be so. 1 "

"What should be so, Poppa?"

"That a man, brought to court over money issues, should be considered in-
nocent! Such freedom from liability only works for scholars who sit and study
all day while their wives go out and support them. For those of us who have
to earn a livelihood it's still easier to make money than to keep it. Speaking of
making money, Yosl, reminds me. Tomorrow night after Havdalah, they will
not be taking up the usual collection for your daven'n over Shabbos. We're
coming to the Rebbe for his approval of your officiating in public until you
are Bar Mitzvah. We are performing gratis this weekend.

They arrived at the Rebbe's Court, unhitched the horse and settled him in
a stable, leaving their belongings in the room reserved for visiting cantors,
and set off for their interview with the Rebbe of Komarno. That imposing
personality looked down at the diminutive supplicant.

"My dear Yosl, I understand that you would be a singer in Israel. So sing
something for us now in honor of the yom tov — since it is not only erev shab-
bat, but also erev hanukkah"

"Rebbe," said Yosl, "the candles are lit and we have already sung the first
verse of Mo'oz tsur y'shuosi. If it's all right with you, I'd like to recite the final
verse — Y'vonim nikb'tsu olai..."

When Maccabeus broke the Greek chain asunder,
Through a miracle, You did show a wonder;

The single flask of oil remained unprofaned—
For eight days, lights and praise to You was ordained.
For what seemed an eternity the Rebbe was silent. Then, as though speaking
to himself, he uttered the fateful verdict: "His mouth is pure, his prayers
will be heard."

The Komarno Rebbe's seal of approval echoed through every shtetl in
Galitzia, where purity really counted. Yosl's childhood had ended — as would
his adulthood — before its time; he became an instant celebrity. On his travels
he came to Briegl, a town near Cracow that was, as he would later describe
it, no bigger than the yawn of a flea! What set it apart was that Taube — his
future wife whose father, Reb Idl Kaufman, served as town shokhet — lived in
Briegl. Yosl had davened there when he and Taube were both twelve years
old. For him it was just another among endless Sabbaths which he spent on
the road, officiating for a few gulden. But that first one became the Sabbath
of Sabbaths in their minds.

Six years later Taube stood at the same spot from where she had first heard
him, upstairs in the women's gallery. They were now eighteen and about to be
married in the synagogue courtyard. She tried to recapture the quiet intensity
of that earlier occasion, but her three bridesmaids remembered it differently.

"Listen to her," one of them said, "we thought you would jump off the bal-
cony when he began to sing."

The second bridesmaid joined in. "You acted as if you had never heard a
khazn before."

"Never a boy khazn," Taube protested.

"And never one so small," added the third bridesmaid; "remember how you
ran after him when the service ended?"

Then all three chorused, "and remember how we ran after you, singing
'Taubele loves the khazndl, Taubele loves the khazndl... ?'"

Taube finally admitted defeat. "Can't a person change their mind? I've since
learned that size is not what counts, but what's inside the package. When he
ate Shabbat dinner our house and our eyes met— I knew it was meant to be."

Seemingly before the newlyweds turned around it was nineteen hundred
and eleven. More than a decade had passed and they were the parents of
six children, two for each of the cities where Yossele had served as cantor:
Munkacz, Presburg, and Hamburg. They were to relocate one more time, and
of course, two more children would follow.

With every child it became more difficult to make ends meet. R'foeil and
Khaye-Soroh had grown old and their nine daughters each required a dowry
before they could be married off. Since Yossele was the only breadwinner,
he assumed the responsibility of providing for every newly formed family as
well. When one of his sisters became widowed, Yossele and Taube took her in
to live with them, together with her little girl. The Rosenblatts never turned
anyone away empty handed. Shabbos and yom tov after services they always
had a tableful of poor refugees from Russia, Poland and Rumania. In fact,
their home became a haven for the Easterners. Like Yossele, the refugees who
had gravitated to Hamburg found the Jews in that port city to be as cold as
their certified Kosher ice cream. Its label ironically read: "Frozen under the
Chief Rabbi's supervision."

Yossele was busy seven days a week with his cantorial duties, so the entire
burden of running their household fell upon Taube. As the daughter of a
Shokhet she had grown up with animals. She lulled her children to sleep with
tales of birds, calves, goats and sheep hovering about their beds. It must have
worked, for they all grew up strong, healthy and normal. How do we know
they were normal, you ask? Simple; none of them became a cantor!

The whole family moved to America in nineteen hundred and twelve when
Yossele accepted a yearly position with New York City's First Hungarian Con-
gregation Oheb Tzedek. A year earlier, Oheb Tzedek had sent delegates to a
World Zionist Convention in Hamburg, where they attended services at Yos-
sele's synagogue. The delegation invited him to come alone to New York— on
consignment, as it were — and now they officially engaged him at twenty- four
hundred dollars a year for five years, one of the the highest salaries ever paid
an American Orthodox cantor until then. Unlike the Hamburg congregation,
Oheb Tzedek allowed him to concertize, which meant a double income. The
Rosenblatts needed it, because the ten of them were always surrounded by
admirers who had come from half-a-continent away to hear Yossele daven.

The family not only fed these uninvited guests, they also entertained them
with Shabbos z'miros sung around the table. These quasi-liturgical hymns
would be followed by the children answering questions put to them by their
father. Taube's role was act as moderator.

"So tell me, kinderlekh" Yossele begins. "Which new words in English did
you learn this week?"

One of the youngest pipes up, "Sharrap, Poppa."

"Sharrap?" wonders Yossele, "what does it mean?"

"I dunno, Poppa," says the youngster.

50

Taube, seeing that her husband is truly perplexed, explains. "It means
'Shut up,' Yossele."

Her husband ponders this for a moment. "Azoy" he murmurs in that liquid-
gold lower register of his, "and what other words did you learn?"

"Geddaddaheah, Poppa," answers a second child.

"Geddaddaheah," exclaims Yossele, "what language is that?"

Taube tells him, "it's English, my dear; it means 'get out of here.'"

"This is English?" demands Yossele.

Whereupon all the children reply, "Yes, poppa, it's the way kids speak
English!"

"At this point their mother, exasperated, breaks in. "It's the way English is
spoken here, children. Compared to this, Hamburg was the Garden of Eden!
There, at least we lived among persons of breeding and etiquette. And what
have we here? Riffraff collected from the four corners of the earth, people
without manners or refinement."

"But Momma," one of the older children counters, "they don't mean any
disrespect just because they talk like Americans."

Another child seconds the motion. "Would you rather we sounded like
greenhorns, Momma?"

A third one adds, "Yeah, remember our German accents when we first got
off the boat — everyone made fun of us!"

"But not any more!" proclaims a fourth, as the younger ones chime in, "now
we're real Yankees... " and all shout, "Nephews of our Uncle Sam!!"

"Children... " admonishes Taube, that's just what I was talking about. There
are enough loudmouthed young people in Manhattan without you adding
to the number."

And Yossele, ever the peacemaker, reassures her. "It's alright, Taube. Becom-
ing Americanized means getting used to change — quickly. Last year when the
Emperor Franz Josef died we were still Austrian citizens. So we mourned him
along with thousands of other Jews who'd come over here. This year, 1917,
you and I became American citizens and, along with those same thousands,
we're suddenly at war with Austria!

To help the Jews of war-torn Eastern Europe, Yossele began singing
regularly at benefits. Initially, the Central relief Committee had organized a
concert in New York City's Hippodrome that drew 6,000 people and raised
a quarter-million dollars. The committee quickly decided to send him on a

51

cross-country tour to keep the effort going. He traveled through Newark,
Philadelphia, Scranton, Buffalo, Toronto, Montreal, Milwaukee and as far
west as Chicago, where the head of an opera company heard him.

The impresario, Cleofante Campanini, thought so highly of Yossele's sing-
ing that he made an immediate offer for him to sing the part of Eleazar in
Jacques Halevy's opera, La Juive. Campanini called it "a glorification of the
Jewish religion, in which the role of the Jewess will be sung by Rosa Raisa,
who is a native of Odessa." He offered Rosenblatt five performances at $1,000
each, plus expenses, with no performance for him on Friday or Saturday. Nor
would he have to cut off his beard. Nothing in his appearance on the stage of
the Chicago Grand Opera Company would in any way be a reflection upon
his Orthodox faith.

To Campanini's great surprise, Yossele turned down this magnanimous of-
fer—on religious grounds. The newspapers reported: "The world is electrified
by Cantor Rosenblatt's courage... He is a true Maccabean... who has upheld
the honor of the American synagogue... What he has done is to sanctify the
Holy name in the noblest possible way."

Yossele couldn't believe the public's reaction to his stand. His refusal of
Campanini's offer enhanced his reputation beyond anything he'd ever dreamed
of! He was invited to participate in a Liberty Loan rally on the steps of the
New York Public Library. It was in honor of troops who were sailing overseas,
but it was an honor for him as well. Among the thousands who attended was
Enrico Caruso, whose thrilling voice had sold over twenty million dollars'
worth of War Bonds.

The occasion called for something that would stir people's emotions. Since
the liturgy contained nothing patriotic, he settled on the next best thing, a
prayer whose refrain was in march- time: R'tseih asirosom from the Midnight
S'lihos (Penitential) service before Rosh Hashanah: Hear our song in the silence
of night; we who pray, protect us with Your mightl

It went over wonderfully. Its words and music seemed to fall in step with the
popular anthem by George M. Cohan: with God's help, America's doughboys
were going to get the job done— Over Jherel

When the program ended, Caruso climbed the library steps and embraced
Yossele. Something of the legendary tenor's aura must have rubbed off on him.
From then on, people began to think of his singing in operatic terms even
though he had refused to enter that world. For one thing, what could he do
as an encore to La Juive 7 . How many roles are there for a bearded tenor who
is also an Orthodox Jew? Instead, Yossele composed music in operatic style,
for another obscure prayer text: Matsil oni mei-hozok mim-menu.

52

You save the afflicted from the powerful,

The impoverished from those who prey on them.

Who resembles You?

Who is equal to You?

Who compares to You?—

great, mightly, awe-inspiring, transcendent God,

to whom heaven and earth belong.

We will praise, acclaim, and bless your holy name,
fulfilling David's words:

Let my soul bless Adonai,

and every fiber of my being praise God's holy name."
The prayer is recited just before the cantor picks up the chant from a lay ba'al
t'fillah on holy day mornings, and Yossele based his setting on themes from
two operas. The first, Halevy's La Juive, was only fitting and proper, since that
role had been his for the taking. The second, Giacomo Rossini's The Barber
of Seville, was his private retribution against all the barbers who had tried to
make their reputation at the expense of Rosenblatt's luxuriant black beard.
Initially he might have pictured the piece as a duet between various charac-
ters of both operas — the manipulative Spanish jack-of- all-trades, Figaro — and
the innocent French maid, Rachel. In his mind's eye perhaps he saw himself
as Rachel's father, the venerable scholar, Eleazar, seated at a table, studying
the Mask of Tragedy that lay upon it.

Looking up, the old Talmudist sees standing before him a raven-haired
Andalusian beauty, Rosina, exotically veiled in a multicolored silken manton.
In front of her face she coyly holds the Mask of Comedy. She seems to be
inviting and mocking him at the same time. So much so that on the record-
ing—towards the end of this surreal duet in the guise of a prayer monologue,
Yossele appears appears to be playing both roles— that of a heroic-voiced tenor
dashing off cantorial roulades in sequences that ascend to a resounding B -flat,
and that of a coloratura soprano whose flute-like trills leap repeatedly to a
ringing F above High C, before cascading downward two-and-a-half octaves
into the abyss that lay ahead...

Matsilani

Text: P'sukei D'Zimra for Holy Days,
Sabbath and Festivals

Music: Josef Rosenblatt
Arrangement: Charles Davidson

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Was he dreaming, like the biblical Joseph? Did he imagine the scene onstage,
or those fabulous years of success when the sun and the stars seemed within
his grasp? People were calling it the Golden Age of Khazonus. When the Great
War ended, so many excellent European cantors came to the United States all
at once that it was impossible to determine which one of them was the best.
To answer that question, the opinion of an expert like Musicology professor
Arno Nadel of Berlin was needed. In an article on the subject, he'd likened the
three leading cantors to three European heads of state. He designated Yossele
Rosenblatt of New York as the Franz Josef of cantors, due to his pre-eminence.
Zavel Kwartin from Budapest, on the other hand, was elegant — like Edward
VII of England. And the young upstart from Vilna, Mordechai Hershman,
he compared to Mussolini — with a moustache!

Yossele was flattered, of course. Still, he kept trying to improve himself.
After the encounter with Caruso, he went out of his way to meet other men
of great accomplishment in their field. Thomas Edison charted his voice in
his New Jersey laboratory, and he told Yossele that it displayed the largest
amplitude of any vocal instrument he had ever recorded. To Yossele the chart
looked like the outline of mountains he'd passed on his many railroad trips.
One journey in particular came to mind.

It was late on a Friday, somewhere in the Midwest en route from Miami,
Florida to Portland, Oregon. The train had been delayed, and Yossele real-
ized he wasn't going to reach the West Coast by sundown. He asked the
conductor to let him off at the nearest town with a Jewish population. The
man consulted his schedule, and the next moment, Yossele was standing on
Main Street in the middle of nowhere. The town evidently consisted of two
Jews and a thousand Native Americans, all of whom showed up to stare at the
bearded stranger. It turned out to be quite a Shabbos. The lone Jewish couple
(who ran a general store) took him in, fed him dairy food and vegetables, and
on Saturday night they kept playing a recording of his, over and over. It was
Yossele's lively rendering of the High Holiday prayer,
K'vakarat ro'eh edro, ma'avir tsono tahat shivto...
As a shepherd tends his flock, making sure they're all accounted for,
So do You, O God, take note of every living creature.

Hearing what sounded like a familiar rhythmic chant, the local Indians
started to perform their traditional tribal dance in his honor, which prompted
Rosenblatt to join them in a contrapuntal o&&%a to... Welcome to Pendleton,
Indiana!

In nineteen hundred and twenty-five Yossele Rosenblatt awoke from his
dream— but unlike Pharaoh in Egypt— he had no one to interpret it. Seven

years of plenty had suddenly come to an end and seven lean years were about
to begin. How did it happen? While traveling from Montreal, he'd been ap-
proached by two bearded gentlemen wearing black suits and hats. He felt
right at home with them. They quoted entire discussions from the Talmud
as if they were in a yeshivah instead of on a train. It seemed as if they were
eager to pass on their learning to others.

They spoke of a new weekly publication they were about to launch; it was
to be called Dos likhtfun yisroeil— "The Light of Israel." Unlike any other
newspaper, it would appear in Hebrew, Yiddish and English. It would feature
articles by the greatest scholars our people had produced. Finally— and this
was the clincher — "it was guaranteed to strengthen traditional Judaism in
all of North America?'

They told him, "with our know-how, plus your name and backing, it can-
not fail. And once it's established it will provide you with a steady source of
income, so you can cut back on all the travel and singing you do."

"But gentlemen," said Yossele, "I know so little about the newspaper busi-
ness; I'm a khazn, plain and simple."

"That is absolutely no problem, we will take care of the business end."

"And as president of the corporation, all you have to do is finance it."

"Meantime, say nothing about this to Mrs. Rosenblatt until the first issue
appears."

"You know what the Talmud says: "Discuss financial matters with a woman
and she'll raise enough objections to spoil the whole project."

Yossele was hooked. "Allright," he agreed, "it is obvious that you are both
upstanding individuals with only the highest motives in this venture. I'll back
you in it; give me the documents to sign."

Shortly thereafter, Taube and Yossele had the worst quarrel of their thirty-
three year marriage. Taube began it.

"Yossel, do you remember the song they sang at our wedding?"

"You mean Keitsad m'rakdim— 'How does one dance before the bride'"?

"Yes, and do you remember what follows?"

"Certainly, ishah na'ah va-hasudah — 'a kind and understanding bride' —
Why are you asking?"

"Have I not been a kind and understanding wife to you?"

"Of course, Taube; is there some point to these questions?"

"The point is that lately you have not been treating me as your life's partner."

62

"What do you mean; you think I am keeping secrets from you?"

"That is exactly what I mean. How else could every check I send out to pay
the monthly bills come back stamped 'Insufficient Funds?'"

"Don't worry, Taube, I'll make good the shortage. I'm still able to sing; I'll
simply sing more often."

"That won't do, Yossel, I want to know what's been happening to what-
ever money we had left after all your charitable donations. To whom — or to
what— did you donate this time?"

"I'm telling you it will work itself out. As my father (of blessed memory)
used to say: 'If God gives us bread, people will supply the butter!'"

"Yossel, when you're ready to tell me what you've done with the money, I'll
be ready to listen!" And with that, Taube left the room.

It was the first and only time Taube ever walked out on her husband. It
caused him such grief that he told her everything. Aside from sinking their
life's savings into the paper, he had gone into personal debt by borrowing
from their friends. He was in over his head and couldn't swim; the only way
out was to declare voluntary bankruptcy.

Shortly thereafter a Bankruptcy Referee addressed Yossele at a formal
hearing.

"Mr. Rosenblatt, I've reviewed the contents of your petition. It lists your
assets at $33,000. Of that amount, $27,000 represents the value of your house.
Your liabilities, due to promissory notes that you endorsed as The Light of
Israel's president, totals $192,000.

Yossele's attorney pointed out that his client's motives were honorable
from first to last.

"Counselor, I'm inclined to agree," said the Referee, "and only for that reason
this Court is allowing him to default on his obligations."

"Your Honor," if my client had any assets remaining after withdrawing from
the publication, he himself would have distributed them among his creditors."

"As it is, Counselor, your client's insolvency has left high and dry many
people who believed in him and who contributed to the periodical on the
strength of that belief."

"Just as he believed in what he considered an idealistic venture, Your Honor."

"Idealistic or not, Counselor, the effect of these proceedings will be to wipe
out your client's indebtedness. In fact, he is now free from further liability."

Yossele could no longer contain himself.

63

"May I say something, Your Honor?"
"You may."

"Your Honor, I have declared bankruptcy not to escape liability but to
gain time. Eventually I hope to make good every penny. God has given me a
voice which I shall use to fulfill my obligations, no matter what the letter of
the law says!"

To raise the huge sum of money he had promised to repay in court, Yos-
sele turned to an art form that was still thriving before the new medium oi
talking movies caught on: Vaudeville. It was cheaper than going to concerts,
and a lot more varied. He shared the stage with Paul Whiteman, Fanny Brice ;
The Great Houdini, Sophie Tucker, Eddie Cantor, Al Jolson, George Jessel,
and the Marx Brothers. Each of them recognized what they had in common,
and overlooked the differences in lifestyle. Yossele's act consisted of three
numbers: Irish, Italian, and Russian. For an encore he usually did an Irish
miniature, Mother MacRee, that brought down the house.

When vaudeville peaked, Yossele sailed for Europe where concerts were
still important, especially to Jewish audiences. The brand-new medium of
radio carried news of his travels across the continent.

Hello to our listeners back home in Warsaw, this is your correspondent,
Herman Svet. We are broadcasting from Berlin's Oranienburgerstrasse
Synagogue, immediately following Yossele Rosenblatt's thrilling concert.
He's standing now in the midst of his cantorial colleagues who are
welcoming him back to Germany, the country where he first rose to
international prominence some twenty years ago. Cantor Rosenblatt
appears to be in fine form. Let me try to hear what he's saying ... He's telling
about how different Jewish life in the United States is from what we're
used to here in Europe... He's mimicking an America-born cantor who's
trying to improvise as he holds the cup of wine... Instead of concluding
the blessing with Borei p'ri ha-gafen, he forgets where he is and blurts
out: Borei p'ri hashabbat\
After that tour, Yossele was worn out. Twenty- five appearances in six weeks
drained him physically. The poverty of Polish and Lithuanian Jewry, particu-
larly in Bialystok and Vilna, drained him emotionally. Back home, the whole
country was suffering through the Great Depression's early stages. Yossele
finally parted company with the First Congregation Oheb Tzedek, which
could no longer afford to retain him. Concert engagements were non-existent.
He repaid creditors whatever amounts he could, but when they learned
that he was without a pulpit and had no further means of earning a livelihood,
they hounded him without letup. Yet he never despaired of God's help. In

nineteen hundred and thirty-two, during the last High Holiday service that
he would ever lead, Yossele sang more fervently than ever, so convinced was
he that things would soon turn around.

The Rosenblatts had planned that they would settle in Erets yisrael once he
retired. In the Spring of nineteen hundred and thirty-three, he got his chance
to test that plan when he was given the opportunity to tour Palestine. It was
with a film crew that planned to shoot him singing pre-recorded prayers at
various biblical sites throughout the land. He combined this with a full itin-
erary of recitals and services, including the Festivals of Pesah and Shavuot.
Filming began the day after his last service.

It had been beastly hot in the Galilee, at Rachel's Tomb and the Ruins of
Jericho. On June the 18 th , after Hevron and on the way down to the Dead Sea,
his heart gave out. He was driven back to his hotel in Jerusalem; by the next
morning it was all over. The newspapers that evening read:

YOSSELE ROSENBLATT DIES SUDDENLY
Famous cantor stricken after ten weeks of daily appearances here
in six different cities. World's best-known hazzan was filming "The
Dream of My People" at M'arat ha-makhpeilah. His close friends,
Cantors Hershman and Kwartin, to be among the pallbearers.

High on the Mount of Olives' western slope ha-Rav Kook summed up
Yossele's life for the ages.

... He lived fifty-one years, whose numerical value is formed by the letters nun-
aleph. Those letters also spell the word Na— "please." So many of the prayers he
offered on our behalf began with that word: please be merciful to Your people;
please do not turn them away from Your holy Presence. Now, Ribono shel olam,
we beg you on his behalf: please do not turn Your countenance from him... as he
approaches the place where Your glory dwells.

Moral u-g'virotai, the Midrash tells us that two hundred and forty years prior to
the sixth millennium, the waters of the deep will well up again as they did in the
days of Noah... covering everything in the world except Erets yisrael. We shall
reach that point at the end of this 20 th century, by which time most of us will have
joined Khazn Rosenblatt in the World to Come.

Until then, may he serve as our Advocate of Righteousness in that world, just as he
was our Meilitsyosher in this world. May his lifelong prayer for the re-establishment
of a Jewish Commonwealth upon this Holy Land be answered in our day. For
holiness flows from two sources: the Temple of Old, and the Redemption to come.
We stand closer to the Final Redemption than our Talmud sages did to the Temple
era! And, although today we are shrouded in the gloom of bereavement, already
the light of the Mashi'ah can be seen, and the reverberation of his footsteps can
be felt— on this very mountain. His voice we have all heard— in the heartfelt song
of our departed.

Yossele, in you, Ha-kadosh barukh hu gave us a deposit. Now The Holy One has
come to demand: Heikhan pikdoni— "Where is my Deposit?"
You were that deposit, Yossele— given for us to guard and to treasure these past
fifty-one years. Now it is time for us to return that treasure to its Depositor.Go to
your eternal rest in peace, Hazzan ha-dor—Pvayev Messenger for our World— the
World of Yossele Rosenblatt!

Yossele Rosenblatt's life and times were paradigmatic of our great-grandparents'
immigrant experience early in the 20 th century. His dignified yet humble ap-
pearance personified the traditional Jew to American audiences more than
that of any other European-born cantor. His compositions are still widely sung,
and his recordings remain ever popular. This article draws upon many sources
for its facts, chiefly Rabbi Samuel Rosenblatt's 1954 biography of his father,
republished as The Immortal Cantor, by the Cantors Assembly in 2002. It also
derives from the present writer's play of the same name, with music arranged
by Charles Davidson, and premiered at the 46 th Annual Cantors Assembly
Convention in Philadelphia, 1993. The dramatic script, including vocal score
and piano accompaniment, are available from < < idlevineQcomcast.net >>.

The Friendly Rival:
Mordechai Hershman
(1888-1941)

Gleaned from many sources

If the styles of Zavel Kwartin and Yossele
Rosenblatt epitomized T'fillat ha-regesh
(emotional prayer), the singing of their
genial competitor, Mordechai Hershman,
left no doubt that he belonged to the camp
of T'fillat ha-seder (orderly prayer). He
had served in the Russian army before and
during the Great War of 1914-1918, and
he sang the same way a soldier fights: with
the optimal force needed to obtain a quick
and total victory. He came at his listeners
like an erupting volcano, overwhelming
everything in his path. His voice displayed
all the fire associated with the best op-
eratic tenors, yet was able to sustain the
most delicate pianissimo, in a seemingly endless legato line. The voice gained
in power and volume during his middle years, dwindling to a silver thread
only at the very end when, weakened by diabetes, he died at the age of 52.

Born in Cherinov, Russia, he was orphaned at the age of six, taken under
the local cantor's tutelage at age eight, adopted by his grandfather four years
later and brought as an apprentice to Cantor Dorfman of Soloviv. Semi-
starvation was his daily diet until being appointed Assistant Cantor at the
Great Synagogue in Vilna in 1905, for 12 rubles a month. When the Chief
Cantor died, Hershman auditioned for the position and won out over 25
rivals. Drafted for military service, he was soon released in order to resume
his cantorial duties. Extensive concertizing — including multiple solo appear-
ances in which he performed operatic arias with the Warsaw Philharmonic
Orchestra— brought him a recording contract and the attention of choir
leader Leo Low, who recommended him to Temple Beth El of Borough Park
in Brooklyn, New York.

That synagogue — the only Orthodox "Temple" in America (in order to
compete with Conservative Temple Emanuel a block away)— was located
in the fastest-growing Modern Orthodox community in the United States.
Hundreds of affiliated young families attended services every Shabbat. The

67

Temple's acoustics provided natural amplification by means of a high-domed
ceiling, and proved particularly suited to the bright timbre of Hershman's
lyrico-spinto tenor. As a result, his reputation soon matched those of Kwartin
and Rosenblatt, whose tenures in Borough Park overlapped his.

When promenading with his entourage of devotees, Hershman would
usually be leading two enormous Russian wolfhounds on a tandem leash. He
wore a greatcoat, complete with beaver collar and matching top hat, in the
style of an Old World baron. To complete the picture of a nobleman holding
court, there was his commanding voice. Its sheer brilliance was mesmerizing;
once he had introduced a number you always heard him in your inner ear no
matter who sang it later on. So it was with V'hayah b'aharit ha-yamim ("It
Shall Come to Pass at the End of Days"; Isaiah 2: 2-4).

Its words were set by Cantor Pinchos Jassinowsky (1886-1954) in the Pro-
phetic mode, because during the Roaring Twenties the sky seemed the only
limit. During that decade, jazz musicians took their cue from the spectacular
vocalism featured by cantors on best-selling 78-rpm recordings. Trumpeter
Louis Armstrong's 1928 groundbreaker, West End Blues, 1 opened with a
rollercoaster of a cadenza that can best be described as 'cantorial.' Accord-
ing to one critic, it "inaugurated an era of modern musical expression where
individuality and genius could dazzle and shine." 2

In the Jewish world as well, anything seemed possible, including the building
of a Hebrew University on the summit of Jerusalem's Mount Scopus. Pinchos
Jassinowsky dedicated this apocalyptic vision to the promise held forth by
that brand-new institution of higher Jewish learning, and Hershman sang
Jassinowsky 's Haftarah-based vision with the fervor of a latter-day prophet.
V'yoreinu midrakhav v'neilkhah b'orhotav
Let the God of Jacob teach us, that we may walk in His ways
For out of Zion shall go forth the Law, and the ways of God from Jerusalem!

After King Oliver's recording earlier that same year.
', John Edward Hasse, "Louis Armstrong's Revolution," The Wall Street Jou
e 14-15, 2008.

The Prophecy of Isaiah

(Excerpt)

Text: Isaiah, 2: 2 - 3
Moderato

Music: Pinchas Jassinowsky, 1925

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The Paragon of Understatement:
David Roitman (1888-1943)
Gleaned from many sources

The city of Vilna enjoyed such a pronounced
Jewish presence that when Napoleon stopped
there in 1812 during the catastrophic retreat of
his Grand Army from Moscow, he reportedly
named it "The Jerusalem of Lithuania." Its Great
Synagogue, which dated from 1633, conformed
to a municipal regulation that it stand no taller
than surrounding buildings. So it did, when
viewed from the exterior. Being built deep into
the ground, however, the Great Synagogue's inte-
rior height was beyond belief. The vaulted ceiling
appeared to rise in tandem with the fame of its
cantors, all of whom bore the title shtodt khazn
or "City Cantor."

David Roitman— who served as shtodt khazn after David Moshe Steinberg
(1870-1941) and before Mordechai Hershman — was the most intellectually
inclined among those who held the office. He composed not only a complete
liturgical cycle, but also a comprehensive repertoire of songs that have become
classics. From listening intently to visiting Klezmer musicians as a child in
Ukraine, he acquired an uncanny ability to replicate the limpid softness of
various instruments, especially the clarinet. He later transferred this skill into
the pleading mezza voce that became his calling card.

At the age of eight he was appointed unofficial assistant (hazzan sheini)
to his town's High Holy Day cantor. Soon thereafter, he was apprenticed to
a series of hazzanim until he came under the tutelage of Ya'akov Shmuel
Maragovsky (1856-1952), known as Zeidel Rovner, after the town of Rovno
where he served as hazzan. 1

He accepted his first position at age 20, and after moving through two more
posts in the next two years, he happened to daven unannounced in Vilna
one Shabbat, and was immediately engaged as shtodt khazn. After four years
he moved to St. Petersburg, where the Bolshevik Revolution caused him to

1 In New York, years later, Roitman would return the favor to his old teacher,
singing as part of an impromptu cantorial choir along with several colleagues,
accompanying Rovner as he recited the Order of Kinot— elegaic liturgical poems over
the destruction of both Temples— on the morning of Tishah B'Av.

75

uproot his family twice more — to Odessa and finally, in 1920 — to the United
States and Manhattan's Congregation Shaare Zedek where he remained until
his death in 1943.

Roitman's tenure in New York, particularly during the 1930s, saw open
anti-Semitism run riot in the U.S. and Canada. The Protocols of the Elders of
Zion, a scurrilous late-19 th century Czarist calumny against Jews everywhere,
had been republished a decade earlier, in the hundreds of thousands, by in-
dustrialist Henry Ford's newspaper — the Dearborn Independent. It was still
widely read and believed by the blue-collar masses. This only encouraged
rabble-rousers like the pro-Nazi Roman Catholic priest out of Detroit, Father
Charles Coughlin. Through a syndicated radio program that reached 16 mil-
lion listeners every week, Coughlin branded the few destitute Jewish refugees
who were admitted during the Depression years as dangerous subversives
responsible for every problem faced by out-of-work Americans. North of the
border, similar unrest drove Canada's Parliament to severely limit immigra-
tion and pave the way for Fascist-leaning politicians like Minister of Labour
Adrien Arcand to publicly urge the boycotting of all Jewish businesses.

It was a time for North American Jews to become invisible and heed the
advice given their Eastern European grandparents 70 years before by the Has-
kalah (Enlightenment) poet, Yehudah Leib Gordon: Heveih y'hudi b'veitekha
v'adam b'tseitekha — "at home be observant, but at large, be unobtrusive."
David Roitman's introspective, self-abasingly plaintive style suited the mo-
ment perfectly, as did the text of his acclaimed setting for Psalm 24, sung on
the Eve of Rosh Hashanah:

Mi ya'aleh b'har adonai? n'ki khapayim u-var leivav...
Who may ascend God's holy mountain?
Only one with clean hands and pure heart.

IHavid mizmor

Text: Psalm 24

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Im,

The Tragically Short Career of
Josef Shlisky (1894-1955)
After B. H. Stambler

Josef Shlisky is not well known today, yet
his God-given vocal ability and canto-
rial skill brought him such well-deserved I
acclaim during a brief span of time, that I
his tragic story cries for inclusion in any I
survey of 20 th -century hazzanut. Born in I
1894 not far from Lodz, Poland, his voice I
had developed into a beautiful boy soprano I
by the age of four and he began to sing I
with local choirs. At the age of seven he I
was abducted, along with six other choir I
boys, by an unscrupulous cantor who told I
their parents he was touring with them to I
London. Instead, he hijacked them to a
synagogue choir in Toronto, Canada. Luck-
ily, the young singer was also given gainful L
employment by a businessman who dealt in f
rag conversion. The arrangement allowed
him to sleep in the company's warehouse.

Six years later, shortly after Josef's Bar Mitzvah, one of his uncles emigrated
to Canada and provided him with a home until his marriage at the early age of
17. He found more permanent work in a factory branch of the T Eaton Depart-
ment Store, where the owner's wife heard him singing and was so enthusiastic
about his voice that she offered to help finance his musical education. With
Mrs. Eaton's backing he matriculated at the Royal Conservatory in Toronto,
from which he was graduated in 1917 with a Bachelor of Music degree.

In 1919 he made his debut at Town Hall in New York. A critic described
him as having "a natural voice of limpid purity, a liquid diction... a melting
pianissimo like a bird's woodnotes wild, and a full-throated crescendo — high,
clear as a bell, and altogether manly."

In 1920 he was accepted as High Holiday Cantor at the Slonimer Syna-
gogue on the Lower East Side of Manhattan and given a two-year contract
immediately afterwards. He studied hazzanut with Samuel Malavsky, and was
soon considered one of the city's leading cantors. He served at the Rouma-

83

nian Synagogue downtown, Anshe Poland of Harlem, Talmud Torah Toras
Moshe of the Bronx, and Shaare Tefillah of Brooklyn. He also concertized
and guest-officiated as a cantor extensively. These performances, together
with his radio appearances, brought him to the attention of a wide audience
throughout the United States and Canada. He even considered an operatic
career, but chose to devote himself to hazzanut instead.

At the height of his powers he suffered a paralytic stroke, and never sang
again after Passover of 1934. He remained an invalid until his death in 1955.

Shlisky's crystalline tenor earned him not only fame but fortune through

contracts with all the principal recording companies. Still, while he was able,

he gave freely of his time and resources to others who — like himself — had

arrived in the New World penniless, and gave generously of his vocal talent

to benefit charitable causes. If singing indeed opens a window to one's soul,

Josef Shlisky was truly a paragon, for his recordings reveal the unwavering

vocal line of an angel. The following transcription of his R 'tseih vimnuhateinu

("Accept Our Rest"), recited on Friday night, is lowered a minor third, and

even then its rapidly sweeping cadenzas extend up to high Bb (high Db on

the recording), every note ringing true and clear. To his credit, Shlisky used

melismatic runs only as a graceful way of getting from interpretive point A to

point B, never as an end in themselves, and always to serve the liturgical text.

God of our ancestors, accept our rest...

Gladden us through Your ultimate redemption...

as we praise You for sanctifying the Sabbath.

If only verbal description could enable readers to hear the limpid yet clarion
peal of this ill-fated singer's pliant tenor as it plumbed the depths and scaled
the heights of two full and throbbing octaves, through willpower alone seem-
ing to sound even the white spaces between the recitative's written notes.
This capsule biography is adapted from B. H. Stambler's liner notes on Collectors Guild
LP CG 601, 1 960 (out of print), Cantor Josef Shlisky: ". . . and on the Sabbath!' The
music is transcribed from Side 1, Band 4 of that recording [JAL].

R'tseih vimnuhateinu

Text: Friday Night Liturgy
Transcribed by Joseph A. Levine from
Collectors Guild LP CG 601, Side 1, Band 1

Music: Josef Shlisky
Piano: Charles Heller

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Yossele's Protege: Samuel Malavsky
(1894-1985)
Gleaned from many sources

Whenever the name of Samuel Malavsky comes
under discussion, hazzanic aficionados think first
of the RCA Victor recordings he made during the
1940s. These were reissued in the 1970s by Banner
Recording Company, among them: Shomei'a kol
bikhyot from Neilah, Ha-veinyakir li efrayim from
Rosh Hashanah, Maran d'vishmaya from S'lihot,
and V'shamru from Friday Night Ma'ariv. Mala-
vsky self-published ten of the written scores with
piano accompaniments in 1947 under the title,
Hebrew Traditional Cantorial Masterpieces. They
all lasted around four minutes, perfect for twelve-inch 78-rpm platters, and all
exemplified heartfelt prayer that was deeply moving yet logically structured.

Generally overlooked, however, are several ten-inch recordings he'd made
for Columbia a decade earlier, including a touching Makhnisei rahamim
from S'lihot, an inspiring T'ka b'shofar gadol from the Weekday Amidah
and an Aheinu kol beit yisrael from the Tahanun section of Monday and
Thursday morning that recapitulates in miniature the style of his mentor,
Yossele Rosenblatt. The recordings appeared in 1932, a year before Yossele's
untimely death. Taken together, they prove that if Rosenblatt was the "King of
Cantors" — according to the hyperbole of contemporary press reports — then
Malavsky was his Crown Prince, a worthy heir to that phenomenal falsetto,
irresistibly appealing tone, and unquestioned sincerity.

The American public at large knew Shmuel Malavsky better from the
recordings he made during his middle period with his two sons and four
daughters, a family choir that he formed officially in 1947 and with which he
toured widely after giving up a thirty- year battle to maintain his professional
dignity in the face of petty-minded rabbinical sniping born of professional
jealousy, and penurious synagogue boards who refused to pay him what he
felt he was worth. 1 So beloved were the Malavsky Family Singers that on a
1952 tour of Israel, people would approach daughter Goldie, who possessed a
gorgeous child-like alto voice and sang all the famous boy-solos in the family's

1

Haz

iMal

'sky's interv:

vith The Elchanite (New York: Talm

ensemble arrangements of hazzanut. Israeli audiences would shout: "Goldie

Malavsky, stay here, and Golda Meir should go home!" 2

The Malavsky Family Singers came into being around the Shabbat dinner
table where they would spend hours singing z'mirot, harmonizing with
each other and learning new pieces that Samuel composed. The children
improvised natural harmonies and created a sound so impressive that it
would attract the neighbors to come listen outside the open windows.
During World War II the family received their first invitation to sing the
High Holiday services together, in San Francisco. This group performance
proved so successful that Samuel decided the family should move to New
York where they would have more opportunities to capitalize on their
collective talent... They traveled frequently, singing in concerts, leading
services and appearing on the radio. . . Despite all the accolades, however,
the Malavskys also attracted a great deal of opposition. They usually had
to daven in special High Holiday and Passover services set up in hotels
because the girls were not allowed to sing in Orthodox synagogues. 3

Mordechai Yardeini 4 cites an editorial from The Jewish Journal of Toronto
for November 19, 1950, which reveals the hypocricy of two prominent local
Orthodox rabbis — identified by name — who had issued a ban against Hazzan
Malavsky and his children officiating for Shabbat at a small shut on Dover-
court Road. Furthermore, those who issued the ban threatened to declare
said shul a "Reform Temple" where religious Jews were forbidden to enter.
Yet, the editorial stated,

during the previous High Holidays, two other Orthodox synagogues in
Toronto had engaged mixed choirs with men and women who — unlike
the Malavsky children, were total strangers to one another and certainly
not members of a single family — had officiated for all the services of
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur... Why did these same two prominent
Orthodox Keepers of the Faith not issue a ban or even a warning against
people attending services at these two offending synagogues?. . . Was it not
simply a case of "money talks?" Members of these particular synagogues
happened to be among the wealthiest Jews in Toronto— including the
city's leading Kosher butchers— for whom the aforementioned rabbis
evidently had the greatest respect.

2 Malavsky Sisters' interview with the Milken Archive of American Jewish
Music, 1998., cited in Arianne Slack, "The Khazntes...", Journal of Synagogue Music,
2007:68.

3 Arianne Slack Brown, "The Khazntes," Journal of Synagogue Music, Fall 2007:
69-71.

4 "The Singing Malavsky Family," New York Vokhenblatt, January 1951.

92

Samuel Malavsky was born in the Ukraine where he sang as a choirboy and
later as a child cantor. In 1914 he came to the U.S. and found employment as
a shokheyt, a skill he had acquired while studying in yeshivot. One day, the
butcher shop in whose back room he worked cleaning chickens, was visited
by Yossele Rosenblatt. When the renowned cantor heard him singing, he im-
mediately took him under his wing as a ben bay it (member of the household). 5

One of Samuel's early cantorial positions was with Yossele's eldest son,
Rabbi Samuel Rosenblatt, in Beth Tfiloh Congregation of Baltimore. The
recording of Aheinu kol beit y Israel was made a few years later, during his
tenure at B'nei Y'hudah in the Borough Park section of Brooklyn, NY, where
Mordechai Hershman was then serving as hazzan at Orthodox Temple Beth
El. It was a time of great economic hardship and, like all hazzanim at the
time, Malavsky had to accept a cut in salary. It was also an era when overt
anti-Semitism flourished in North America, Jews becoming a scapegoat for
every problem that beset the working poor.

Bad as this was, it paled next to what the Jews of Germany were experienc-
ing—and what Polish Jews were about to experience— at the hands of the Nazi
regime. Samuel Malavsky, who had internalized novel ideas in the supplicatory
Ahavah rabbah mode from his mentor Rosenblatt's 1918 recording of Aheinu
kol beityisrael, reworked those ideas into a more universally singable recitative
of the same text — in half the length. Its three minutes of straightforward yet
musically rich and vocally effective hazzanut convey all the glory and pathos
of early 20 th -century Jewish existence. Malavsky 's concise but little-known
setting of this fervent plea is a paradigm of accessible virtuosity that allows
the prayer to speak, a treasure that has been overlooked until now.
May the Ever-Present One take pity on the entire House of Israel
Who are in mortal danger, and bring them forth from trouble to safety,
From darkness to light and from subjection to redemption,... Amen.

5 B. H. Stambler, liner notes to Sabbath with the Malavsky Family, Banner LP
BAS-1016,ca. 1958.

Aheinu kol belt yisra'eil

Text: Weekday Torah Service

Music: Samuel Malavsky, 1932

Transcribed by Joseph A. Levine from

a Columbia 78 RPM, 10" Recording

The Visionary: Leib Glantz
(1898-1964)

Gleaned from many sources

Hasidism was our people's last original creation,
according to Gershon Scholem, who founded I
the Department of Jewish Mysticism at Hebrew
University in Jerusalem. Just so, a series of
compositions in Hasidic style were among the I
last original creations of Hazzan Leib Glantz, then
living in Israel.

For over 25 years his father Kalman had served I
assh'li'ahtsibburmthe beitmidrash of the Hasidic
court at Talnoye, near Kiev, Ukraine. The Talner
dynasty was known for its joyful niggunim, that
part of the Hasidic lifestyle most emulated by I
Jews of other persuasions. Most of the great 20 th -

century hazzanim were either reared in a Hasidic environment or familiar-
ized themselves sufficiently with its musical practice so that their singing was
imbued with the same infectious spirit. If a hazzan had grown up in Northern
Europe's more austere centers of Jewish learning — such as Lithuania — where
Talmud was studied "with both thumbs," he would still have spent a significant
portion of his childhood singing z'mirot of Hasidic origin around the family's
Shabbat or festival table.

By composing a set of such quasi-liturgical hymns in the Hasidic man-
ner, Leib Glantz returned to his roots after years of overturning mountains
with his declamatory style. He lavished upon the 10 th -century Bhagdadi text
D'ror yikra ("Proclaim Freedom for One and All") the same musical inven-
tiveness shown in any of his more grandiloquent settings, even managing
to incorporate the particular filler syllables — hai dee di-dee, hai dee di-dee,
ha — preferred by his fellow Talner Hasidim. He composed this z'mirah in the
Sephardic pronunciation of modern-day Israel, to which he would emigrate
in 1954, assuming the post of Hazzan roshi (Chief Cantor) at the Tiferet Tzvi
Synagogue in Tel Aviv, and remaining active as a teacher and much sought-
after guest artist during the last decade of his life.

He organized D'ror yikra into a classic A-B-A form. That is quite different
from Hasidic procedure for rikkud— or "dance"— niggunim like this one.
Usually it would be subject to endless repetition, climbing a half-step with
each succeeding chorus until the pitch got too high for comfort, and then

96

dropping an octave so the process could begin all over again. As Glantz set
it, this z'mirah became more of an art song than a niggun.

Leib Glantz did not need dance or repetition to arrive at a state oihitlaha-
vut (ecstacy). From the time he first led a service for the Talner Rebbe at the
age of four, his singing was already ecstatic. For proof, we need only note the
utter assurance he brings to this gently skipping table song's second strophe,
in which God asks Israel to show a desire for the restoration of Jerusalem:

D'rosh navi v'ulami...
n'ta soreik b'tokh karmi...

Seek My Temple and My Sanctuary...
plant a branch within My vineyard...

To this Divine invitation, Israel responds tit-for-tat:

V'otyesha asei imi...
sh'ei shav'at b'nei ami

First show us a sign of salvation...
heed the cry of Your people!

Text: Dunash ben Labra

D'roryikra

Music: Leib Glantz

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The Man Who Brought Filler Syllables
to Mainstream Worship:
Pierre Pinchik ( 1 899- 1 97 1 )

Gleaned from many sources

Judaism's mystical stream had been reduced to a trick-
le until the Yiddish playwright Shin Ansky opened its
floodgates with his dramatic legend, The Dybbuk, in
1920. Composer Joseph Rumshinsky, an eyewitness
to its opening night performance reported:

The curtains parted on a semi-dark Beis

medrash, illumined by a single candle. Broken

sounds were heard, an unclear melody which

moaned in ecstatic communing with God. It

was made up of notes drawn from generations

upon generations of Jews, very, very slowly,

almost like an overture but without the orchestra. 1
That was the atmosphere in which Pierre Pinchik grew to young manhood,
and which enabled him to pour the age-old Kabbalistic flame into new ves-
sels. He went one step beyond Leib Glantz, who had confined the use of filler
syllables — so much a part of Hasidic song — to z'mirot that are sung at home
rituals like Kiddush, Havdalah and Birkat Ha-mazon, but not at synagogue
worship. Pinchik transferred ai-yai-yai from the privacy of family dining
rooms into the public domain of the community sanctuary. Before him,
personal moans of "oy-vey" were heard only on Zavel Kwartin's recordings, a
form of idiosyncratic license taken during prayer by small- town ba'alei t'fillah
in the smaller towns of Eastern Europe. Pinchik's syllabic embellishments in
Hasidic style went hand-in-glove with a whole panoply of dramatic gestures
that he used at the prayer Amud to set the stage for each section of the liturgy.
While facing the congregation after a Torah scroll had been removed from
the Ark and presented to him for the Sh'ma and processional to the reading
desk, Pinchik would shield it from sight with his oversized tallit. When he
carried it through the standing congregation he would wrap his tallit even
tighter around the scroll — as if he were saving it from conflagration and

Cited in NahmaSandrc

md Stars (New York: Harper & Row), 1977:

certain danger in the midst of a pogrom! 2 He was (perhaps subconsciously)
imitating the Russian Jew in Marc Chagall's 1930 painting that now hangs
in a Tel- Aviv Museum; 3 if someone "threatened" to kiss it — he would swerve
away! The tableau was both unforgettable and somewhat disturbing all at
once— because of the inevitable associations it set up with recent historical
events that many in his audience had lived through.

His suddenly interjected parlando passages occurred just as unexpectedly.
Nowadays, when so much of the service is read aloud from pulpit and pew,
the spoken word has lost its former impact during davening. Sixty years ago
if a cantor spoke while chanting — people thought he'd lost his singing voice
(Heaven forbid!). In fulfilling the Mitzvah of counting the Omer, when Pinchik
turned the commandment into a question— by inflecting the word k'dei ("in
order to") upward as if to say: "why?" and immediately gave the answer: k'dei
I'tahareinu ("in order to purify us!") it caused a sensation.

But when he reached Maoz tsur — the 13 th -century Hanukkah hymn — he
turned extremely serious, as befits the vengeful third line of its opening
stanza —

L'eit takhin matbei'ah mi-tsar hamnabei'ah
When Thou preparest the slaughter for the blaspheming foe 4 —
even though it's been treated more benignly in more widely known transla-
tions ("Haste my restoration, let a ransomed nation, joyful sing to its King,
psalms of dedication"). 5

2 The editor's personal recollection of a Shabbat morning service that Pinchik
led at the Stone Avenue Talmud Torah, Brownsville section of Brooklyn, NY, Spring
of 1957.

3 Beit HaT'futsot Museum in Tel-Aviv, The Red Torah.

4 The Complete ArtScroll Siddur, Nosson Scherman, ed. (Brooklyn, Ny:
Mesorah Publications, Ltd.), 1987:283.

5 Solomon Solis Cohen, The Authorised Daily Prayer Book (New York: Bloch
Publishing Co.), 1959: 951.

104

Maoz tsur

Text: Mordechai, 13th century Music: Pierre Pinchik

The Repertoire ofHazzan Pinchik,

Cantors Assembly, 1964

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The Birth of a Cantorial Classic

ByMordechai Yardeini (1908-1982)

Early in 1930 after I had taken my first
steps as a writer for the Philadelphia daily,
Yiddishe Velt, I decided to make a trip to
Erets yisrael. Two years earlier I had visited
Poland, Roumania, Italy, Belgium, France,
Germany and England.and had returned
feeling like a new man. I was convinced
that no matter how diligently you studied,
how many books you read, how many plays
and concerts you attended, you could still
improve your education by seeing new
places with your own eyes. And I had been
blessed with good eyes, good ears and a
good memory, which I considered to be gifts
that our Creator meant us to use.

It didn't take me very long to get my father's consent, but my mother— that
was a different story altogether. I had to work on her for a whole week before
I was able to get a "yes" from her, and for a good reason. Not even a year had
elapsed since the bloody Arab riots had taken place against Jews in Palestine,
so how could she let her Mottele go to a dangerous trouble spot like that? I
persisted, however, until I wore down her resistance.

So, in the month of February 1930 I was aboard the S.S. Mauritania on my
way to Palestine. The trip took 19 days, because the ship stopped at Gibraltar,
Madeira, Algiers and Athens before it finally docked one bright morning at
the port of Haifa.

There I was greeted by Yankel Melamed (Yankl Moyshe-Mordekhe's), a
Sloveshner lantsman who worked for the Mizrahi Party in that city. What
his duties were, I didn't know yet, only that he was a paid official of the party.
When I had last seen him in Sloveshne he was an apikores who had previously
been a pious Jew, but after the pogrom in our town a whole host of apikorsim
had arisen. The opposite had also happened; some former apikorsim became
very religious.

Didn't Chaim Lieberman, the former radical, become religious during the
Hitler plague? He was no longer the Chaim Lieberman who wrote Literary

Silhouettes in which he sang the praises of Ernst Toller, Eugene O'Neill, George
Brandes and other secular writers of that ilk.

So I found Yankel Melamed back in the religious fold, but at least he was
back in the Mizrahi and not in the extreme Agudah movement of the Mei'ah
Sh'arimniks. Not that I had any complaints against Yankl's turn-about; es-
sentially he was the same warm, good-hearted fellow I had known back in
Sloveshne. Not a whit different. So he didn't take off his hat when he brought
me to his home on Mt. Carmel; that was his own private affair. Instead of talk-
ing politics, we reminisced about our Sloveshne lantslayt who were now in
both America and Palestine. But he very strongly suggested that when I got to
Tel Aviv I should find the police station and ask for Chaimke Rozman — Chaim
Hershel the Ironmonger's— who was a member of the Tel Aviv police force!

I stayed in Haifa only one day, because my aim was to get to Tel Aviv as
soon as possible. Who did I know there? Aside from Pesach Ginzburg who
was the regular Eretsy Israel correspondent for the New YorkMorgn-zhornal,
I didn't know a soul.

I also had a letter of introduction from Moyshe Katz, editor of the Yiddishe
velt, to Golda Meir (in 1930 her name was still Meyerson) who was secretary
of Mo'etset ha-po'alot (Women Workers' Council). The letter asked her to be
helpful to me in getting information for a series of articles I would be writing
for Moyshe's newspaper. My chief interest, however, lay in music, theater and
literature, not in politics or even in impressions of the land and its settlements.

Needless to say, I was amazed by Tel Aviv, which was one hundred percent
Jewish in 1930, the model of an envisioned Jewish city. To me it resembled
a beautiful garden with ultramodern homes sitting like a white dream on a
stretch of sand, a garden that kept growing larger every day. It was difficult to
believe that our people's hands had built it. Who dreamed it up? Who carried
out the plans? The whiteness of the houses blinded the eyes no less than the
big stars at night in the clear blue Tel Aviv sky; a city of eternal springtime.

And the idol of Tel Aviv, of the entire yishuv, 1 was the world famous and
widely acclaimed national Hebrew-Yiddish poet Chaim Nachman Bialik,
whom everyone honored and everyone revered. Was there a literary or artistic
event in Tel Aviv in which Bialik did not participate and was not the main
speaker? Everyone listened to what he had to say, and everyone adored him
as Hasidim adore their rebbe.

He was my Bialik too! As a boy, when I began studying Hebrew and reached
the page of the text where Bialik's first poem El ha-tsippor ("The Bird") was

1 Early 20th-century Jewish population of Palestine.

printed, I immediately knew the flavor of his word, his sound, his meaning,
his melody. Yet, not until I studied "Hebrew Style" and the thick Hebrew
Poetry anthologies did I get to learn about the real Bialik, the great Jewish
bard, perhaps the greatest since the Spanish epoch of Ibn Gabirol, Ibn Ezra
and Yehuda Halevi.

I heard Jeremiah weep not only in the Lamentations that Jews chant on
Tishah B'Av, but in Bialik 's B'ir ha-hareigah ("In the City of Slaughter")— a
lamentation on the Kishinev pogrom of 1903. And what poetry there was
in his "Winter Songs" or his "Songs of Fury" or "The Pond." But it is not my
intention to write a critique about his work. I want to tell about Bialik the
man, the Jew from Volhynia, the happy and sympathetic human being.

Yes, Chaim Nachman Bialik was an ardent Jew. He could wax enthusiastic
over a child, or after reading a good poem, or after hearing a concert or an old
Hasidic song, or a bit of traditional cantorial music. He would often mention
Shammai, the khazn of Zhitomir where his grandfather lived and where he
would frequently go to visit. He loved to listen to the violin, just as he loved
to daven in a simple, everyday Minhah service in the Volhynian manner.

Once I heard him talking with publisher Yehoshua Ravnitzky and Bible
scholar Dr. Yehezkel Kaufman about this:

Listen to this part of the Weekday Sh'moneh-esreih as I heard it in the
shul in Zhitomir. In Odessa I never heard it sung that way because there,
Pini Minkowsky ruled the roost— and he was trying to sound like Sulzer
of Vienna!

I don't like to listen to a cantor who sings the words mechanically. I like
to hear a kahzn's heart and soul. Like this young man here— I like the way
he sings, and you know why? Because he's a Volhynian! I remember his
grandfather from Karastin and I knew his father before he married the girl
from Sloveshne. Akh, Sloveshne, Karastin (the Jews called it "Iskarast"),
Ushamir, Avrutch, Naraditch, Vlednik— what marvelous Jewish towns
they were! Priceless!

Even their dust was like gold. Shall we ever see such juicy shtetlekh again?
Like the fresh rye bread that my poor mother used to bake. And the
Vlednik OheP where she used to go every Yom kippur katan? Oh, the
precious Jews who used to come there— men and women— from Odessa,
from Kharkov, from Yekaterineslav, from Zhitomir; they used to come on

2 Ohel— structure over a Tzaddiks tomb.

3 Yom kippur katan— "Minor: day of Atonement," on the last day of each Jewish
month {erev rosh hodesh) pious Jews fast until noon.

a pilgrimage to the holy Tzaddik and put their kvitlekh 4 in the Ohel. They
wold sleep outdoors in the courtyards, in the streets, because there was no
inn in Vlednik, there was no place to put up so many people, all kinds of
Jews— rich, poor, scholars and illiterates, merchants and wagon-drivers, all
together, like one family, as though they were guests at the same wedding.
And the weeping and wailing— enough to split the heavens! The Ribono
shel olam must have been stronger than iron to withstand it!
Once Bialik started talking there was no stopping him. The only one who
could do that was his gentle, quiet, soft-spoken Manya— Manishka he called
her — who was the apple of his eye, even though she bore him no children —
and his longing for a child was almost palpable. According to Jewish Law he
could have divorced her after they were married ten years with no children.
But Bialik would no longer have been the same. The greater his yearning for
children the deeper his love and esteem for his Manishka. She watched over
him as if he were her child, brought him all his meals on time, made sure he
napped in the afternoon, did not let him overwork, kept people away from
him when he was writing.

Bialik was not an observant Jew, but he was a great believer in traditional
customs and holidays, even such minor fast days as the Tenth of Tevet, the
Fast of Esther and the Fast of Gedaliah, let alone the Seventeenth of Tammuz
or Tisha B'Av.

And who can ever forget the joy that enveloped his home, his little garden,
his street, on Simhat torahl It seemed that all of Tel Aviv came to celebrate
the holiday with Bialik. The neighborhood was filled with unending song
and dance, the joy unrestrained. I would have sworn that the sandy hills
overlooking Bialik's beautifully designed home sang along. It was a kind of
folk-happiness that streamed out of warm hearts in honor of their great na-
tional poet. The whole city celebrated. No other person in the land merited
such honor, such adoration. He was the heart of Tel Aviv, of the entire yishu v.
All of Erets yisrael was filled with his spirit, with his presence. He was its
uncrowned monarch.

Shirei bialik ("Poems by Bialik") was issued in one edition after another
and grabbed up as soon as it appeared. Wherever there was a party or a cel-
ebration, it was the first item on the list to bring as a gift. Bialik was the "old
sage" who sparkled with Jewish wit and wisdom, but he was recognized by
non-Jews as well. Maxim Gorky was among his admirers. Through Bialik he
heard the voice of Israel the Patriarch, the voice of the Bible, of the Talmud,
of the Zohar— the demanding voice of generations of deep-rooted Jewish

4 Kvitlekh— folded notes asking for help of one kind or another.

life and history. Bialik was the "pillar of fire" that illumined the grayness of
Jewish existence and ignited the Jewish spirit. His presence in Erets yisrael
was, for the yishuv, a source of hope and courage, of struggle and continu-
ity, dignity and respect. With his genius and his simplicity, with his love for
his own people and their land, for their own toil and labor, with his pride in
their achievements, in their daring resistance to the powerful, he influenced
the entire yishuv and at the same time inspired their opposition to brutality,
lawlessness and exploitation.

Bialik 's spirit was felt in every corner of the land, in Haifa and Jerusalem,
in Safed and Tiberias; but in Tel Aviv he was the unchallenged king. Writers
and artists listened to what Bialik had to say. Abba Ahi-Meir, editor of the
Revisionist Doar ha-yom, rarely wrote a negative word about Bialik, because
that meant provoking the ire of the yishuv. You could criticize the moon, the
sun and the heavens, but not Bialik — that was a sacrilege...

It so happened that during the same week in which Bialik returned from a
trip to Europe, I came to Erets yisrael for the second time within a year, having
just left there four months earlier. And although I was still very young and
only a beginner — both as a singer and as a writer — the press carried a notice
of my expected arrival the following Tuesday. In Friday's Davar and Haaretz
there had appeared brief announcements of my second visit to Erets yisrael.
For this I had to thank my friend Jacob Spigelman, a j ournalist for Davar and
correspondent for the New York Eorverts. After our meeting during my first
visit, he and I had become rather close.

Naturally, when I arrived on Tuesday, he was among the first people I got
in touch with, and it was he who had done me the favor of sending those
notices to the papers. As a result, people knew I was there— which got me
into an unexpected predicament.

The day after the notices appeared in both papers I was sitting at the
Sabbath table of the Rozlers, on Geulah Street. I was there because of my
acquaintance with a young woman I had met aboard ship— Mrs. Rozler's
sister. We were having a good time singing z'mirot when someone knocked
at the door. The oldest son went to see who it was. When he opened the door,
two distinguished-looking gentlemen stepped in. One of them I knew from
my previous visit: Dr. Rosenstein, who owned a music store in Tel Aviv. The
identity of the second one I learned after we all exchanged greetings oiShab-
bat shalom. He introduced himself to me as a member of Hov'vei n'ginnah
(Music Lovers) of Tel Aviv, but unfortunately, I can no longer recall his name.

Mr. Rozler invited the two guests to have a seat, and after some small talk
he inquired about the purpose of their visit.

"We went to the hotel where your young friend is staying," began Dr.
Rosenstein, "and they told us where he was. We represent the Oneg shabbat
committee as well as the Hpv'vei n'ginnah, and we are here to invite Mr. Sher-
man (I had not yet changed my name to Yardeini) to attend this afternoon's
Oneg shabbat and to sing for the guests— among whom will be our beloved
poet Bialik." Looking directly at me, he added: "You can sing whatever you
choose to."

The spoon I was holding almost fell out of my hand. My whole body
began to shake. I was barely able to get the words out my mouth.

"What do you mean— sing for your guests? I'm not prepared. I can't do
it — if only I had known beforehand..."

"Mr. Sherman," insisted the second representative, "they sent us here on
a mission. You can't turn us down. The Oneg shabbat and the Hov'vei n'ginnah
will feel hurt if you don't accept their invitation."

And they both got up to leave.

"Shabbat shalom! Shabbat shalomf

When they were at the door, Dr. Rosenstein turned and said, "Don't
forget, Mr. Sherman, come on time, and please don't disappoint us!"

And they left. I sat there in a state of stupor. The others at the table
watched me in silence. They were just as frightened as I was. It was no small
matter — singing for the people at an Onegshabbatin Ohelshem 5 — the "public"
in Erets yisrael at that time consisted of the most idealistic Jews from all over
Europe. They were extremely particular— especially in their choice of plays
and concerts, books and lectures, newspapers and magazines. You could
walk into the home of a poor haluts (pioneering farmer) or a laborer in Tel
Aviv, Haifa or Jerusalem and find a bed made of planks or a table knocked
together from boards, but on the floor you would see stacks of books piled
to the ceiling. For who was he— this haluts or this laborer? Usually a former
college or university student, or ayeshiva bokhur (seminarian), or at the very
least a former kheyder yingl (boy who'd attended all-day Jewish religious
school in Europe) with a good sharp head on him. And I can testify that
these same laborers often skipped a few meals so they could buy a ticket for
a concert to hear Jascha Heifetz or Mischa Elman or Emanuel Fuermann or

5 ("Shem's Tent"), a hall on Balfour Street, founded by Bialik in 1930 to foster
cultural Judaism).

Ossip Gabrilowitsch — or similar world-famous virtuosos who were visiting
Erets y Israel for the first time.

Mr. Rozler finally broke the silence.

"What do you intend to do?"

"I haven't the vaguest idea."

"You've got to think of something," my young lady friend said in English,
although she knew both Yiddish and Hebrew well.

"You must do it, Mr. Sherman," echoed the oldest Rozler boy. He himself
played the violin in a theater orchestra. "If you don't go to that Onegshabbat,
you'll make a bad name here for yourself. They'll call you a snob."

"Yes, of course, I understand that," I agreed. "But what shall I sing? I can't
come to Bialik's Onegshabbat and sing just anything. It has to be suitable for
the occasion and in good taste!"

"It certainly does," said Mr. Rozler.

"Do you have a prayerbook with the Sabbath z'mirot 7 . Or a little Psalter?"

"Benjamin," he said to his youngest son, "in the bookcase you'll find a
big siddur and Seifer t'hillim. Please give them to Mr. Sherman."

I took the books into the next room and nervously began to turn the
pages. At last my eye fell on Psalm 121— Esa einai el he-harim ("I lift my
eyes unto the mountains, from where will my help come?"). Pacing back and
forth, back and forth like a man demented, I tried to memorize the words
and their meaning until suddenly a melody began to resound in my ears, a
new melody that matched the words. As I went over it again and again, the
melody became clearer and clearer, more defined, more logical. And when I
felt I had the whole thing the way I wanted it, I began rehearsing it in my mind
and in my heart, until every word and every note became part of me, and
the combination of text and music sang out of me like a plant that naturally
sprouts out of the earth.

When I came out of the room with an excited "I've got if" everyone
stared at me in amazement, as if I had just given birth to a baby.

"How pale you look!" exclaimed my lady friend.

"It's nothing. I'm all right. I'm going back to my hotel to change."

"Maybe you ought to rest here a while and have a cup of tea," suggested
Mrs. Rozler.

"No thank you, there's no time!"

By four o'clock, when we started walking to the Ohelshem, we were joined
by the playwrite A. Ashman, who had once been my friend's Hebrew teacher
in a town near Kamenetz-Podolsk in the Ukraine. The closer we came to the
Ohel shem, the more crowded the thoroughfare became, until we could go
no further. Outside the hall stood a mass of people— all pushing and shoving.
The Jewish policeman didn't know how to handle the situation.

"How will I ever get inside?" I asked Ashman.

"It's bad! We'll never be able to get through."

Then a miracle happened. From a distance, the police captain recognized
Ashman and came over to us. By dint of some strenuous elbowing he led us
through the crowd and up to the door, but not before I felt as though I'd lost
an arm and a leg.

The Ohel shem was packed to the rafters. The setting sun had shrouded
the hall in darkness, except for the rays pushing in through the windows, as
if they too had come to see Bialik. Somehow, we made our way up front to a
table around which a group of people were seated close together like boys in
a kheyder. Someone sat me down on the bench. When I looked up, I found
that I was sitting directly opposite Bialik himself. He greeted me with a warm
shalom aleikhem! To his left sat his publisher, Yehoshua Ravnitzky, and the
Zionist leader, Dr. Ben-Zion Mosenson; to his right, the poets Jacob Fichman
and David Shimonovitz. On the white tablecloth stood glass fruitbowls filled
with the big golden Jaffa oranges that are so easy to peel, and sweet as sugar.

I felt as if I were sitting on hot coals. The chattering of the crowd was
deafening, but suddenly the noise stopped — Bialik had stood up. Terror
gripped me. I heard Bialik saying that before he reported on his trip to
Europe he wanted to introduce a young guest from America, and then he
spoke the words that, despite my confused state, burned themselves into my
brain:

Friends! We have with us an honored guest— a guest from America. His
name is Shir-man, and his name is his recommendation. Mr. Shir-man
will now sing one of his songs!"

(He was, of course, making a pun on the hebrew word shir, which means
"song")

The crowd applauded. Bialik asked me to stand up, but I couldn't; I was
afraid my knees would buckle.

"I'd rather not,"I murmured. "It will be more informal if I sit..." To myself
I said, "God in Heaven, how can I escape from here? Impossible! You've got
to sing, Mord, there's no way out!"

And the audience waited. I couldn't open my mouth.

"Well, Mr. Shir-man— we're waiting."

Finally I took the risk— and began. How I ever finished, I still don't
know. But when I ended Psalm 121, the audience burst into applause that
sounded like thunder in my ears. And despite the calls for an encore — and
Bialik's insistence— I couldn't oblige them. Not out of coyness or obstinacy,
but simply because I felt as if all the strength had been drained out of me. I
couldn't even open my mouth to say "thank you."

And that's the story of the birth of a song. But much more important is
the fact that Chaim Nachman Bialik himself was the cause of it.

Mordechai Yardeini (1908-1982) emigrated with his family to Palestine as a child,
and to the United States in 1922, where he settled in Philadelphia. In 1930 he inter-
rupted a budding acting career in Yiddish theater to continue his musical studies in
Palestine. Returning to New York in 1 936, he began writing regularly for the newspaper,
Der tog, and in 1940 he entered the cantorate as officiant at High Holiday services
and singer at concerts. At home in a wide repertoire ofhazzanut and Yiddish song, he
wrote articles on general and Jewish music for over 40 years. This chapter is reprinted
from Words and Music, a posthumous selection from his essays, translated by Max
Rosenfeld and published by the Yiddisher Kultur Farband in 1986.

Text: Psalm 121

Esa einai

Music: Mordechai Yardeini

(1930)

Piano: Charles Heller

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Moshe Koussevitzky (1899-1966)
in Vilna, Warsaw and Russia

By Akiva Zimmermann

Vilna

During the First World War, Vilna had served
as a battleground for the Russian and German
armies, belonging to one side or the other ac-
cording to who was victorious on any given day.
Early in 1918, with the Bolshevik Revolution in
Russia and Germany's impending defeat by the
Allies, Lithuania declared its independence,
with Vilna as its capitol. Bolshevik elements
still controlled areas of the country and set up
Revolutionary authorities. In July of 1920 a
peace accord was signed in Moscow, whereby
the Soviet Union recognized an independent
Lithuania and its new capitol of Vilna. Russia
also assumed the obligation of assisting in the
return of Lithuanian war refugees to their homeland. Among those returnees
was the Koussevitzky family.

Despite the Russo-Lithuanian agreement, Polish general Lucian Zhligovsky
captured Vilna and its suburbs— including the Koussevitzkys' home town of
Smorgon — and annexed the entire area of 32,250 square kilometers as Pol-
ish territory. Relations between Lithuania and Poland were ruptured, and
the border between them would remain sealed until 1939. The Lithuanian
government fled to Kovno, which became the capitol in exile. Inevitably, the
change of regime affected Jewish citizens who were forced to swear allegiance
accordingly.

The Koussevitzky family reached Vilna in the Fall of 1921. In a series of
memoirs that he later published in the cantorial periodical Die khazonim velt
(Warsaw 1933-1934) entitled "From My Recent Past," Moshe Koussevitzky
tells of his path to the position of Chief Cantor at the Great Synagogue of
Vilna. That grand edifice, built as much below ground as above it due to lo-

125

cal restrictions against exceeding the height of nearby churches, dated from

1573 and was the pride of Vilna's Jewish community.

Grey and overcast were the days following WW I. We had hoped to rest a
bit in "the Jerusalem of Lithuania" after all we'd gone through. We arrived
with nothing, not a penny in our pockets. Luckily, we found a place to
stay: the house of our cousin, whose husband Shmuel Shzurer taught at
the Torat Emet School. Meanwhile, our grandfather, Sholom Shulman,
passed away and his death only deepened the dejection in which the
family found itself. At one of the family gatherings Nehamah, Shmuel's
daughter, sang. She was a popular folk singer, acclaimed for her rendition
of Rav Levi Yitzhok Berdichever's Kaddish. When she performed it for
us we were all moved to tears. Still under its spell, I was inspired to sing
Zavel Kwartin's recitative, Tsur yisrael. [As a child, Moshe had spent
hours on end in the Shzurers' home, glued to the phonograph, listening
to recordings by Kwartin and Rosenblatt.]

When I finished the piece, Shmuel turned to his daughter and asked if she
would take me along with her to choir rehearsals at the Culture League.
I accompanied Nehamah to a rehearsal and the conductor, Avraham Slep
(1884-1942), asked me to sing something. Remembering the "success" I'd
enjoyed with Kwartin's Tsur Yisroel, I decided to sing another piece of his:
Y'hal'lu from the Torah si

I sang it with a clear tone and marvelous coloratura; after the harrowing
war years I was amazed at my ability to produce such ringing sounds. The
room burst into applause and everyone wanted to shake my hand. The
conductor rapped on his music stand and declared: "Moshe, you're going to
remain with us as our hazzan." His words penetrated my innermost being.
From that moment I devoted any free time I could scrape together in the
evenings to practice singing at the Culture League. Through rain, wind,
snow and storm I would run there, often forgetting to return home at a
reasonable hour, to the annoyance of my family. My days were reserved
for study at the well known Ramelis Yeshiva.

Moshe noted that the Culture League choir included among its members
some very talented professional singers. Among them was the excellent bass,
Shlomo Scharf, who had returned with the other Lithuanian refugees from
Russia and now sang in the choir of Tohoras hakkodesh Synagogue. (This
would be the only synagogue to remain standing after the Shoah of WW
II, and it still functions to this day.) Tohoras hakkodesh synagogue was for
Maskilim, Vilna's intelligentsia. Its rabbi was the Zionist leader Shmaryahu
Levine (1867-1935) and its Shammash was the accomplished poet, David
Fogel (1866-1944). Its hazzan was Avraham Moshe Bernstein (1866-1932),

who had composed numerous prayer settings, including Adonai adonai, as

well as Hebrew and Yiddish songs.

"You cannot imagine how lucky I felt," says Moshe Koussevitzky, "when

the bass Scharf suggested I join the Tohoras hakkodesh choir as first tenor on

a paying basis, and that's exactly what I did."

The next day I met Hazzan Bernstein at the synagogue. He auditioned
me and liked what he heard. My first services were for Shavuot, 1923.
My youngest brother David, who was then twelve years old, joined the
boy m'shor'rim and quickly rose to the rank of first alto. It was quite an
experience to sing in that choir, nor will I ever forget the Yom Tov davening
of Avraham Moshe Bernstein. Above all, the way he executed his own
Adonoi adonoi stands out in my memory. This was to be his final year at
Tohoras hakkodesh; after Simhat Torah he took leave of us with a heavy

Koussevitzky describes with what genuine love on all sides Bernstein retired
from the post he had filled for over 30 years and where he had spent the very
best of his creative energy. After Yamim nora'im the synagogue officials invited
qualified candidates to apply for the now open position of hazzan at Tohoras
hakkodesh. Many did so and were given Sabbaths at which to audition. Week
after week they gave forth their best, but none of them satisfied the m'vinim
of Vilna. Finally, one candidate did capture their hearts: Eliyahu Zaludkovsky
from Rostov. After a second hearing he was offered the position. Not only was
he a good davener, but a learned Jew, and general rejoicing greeted his ap-
pointment. As in Rostov, he gave willingly of his hazzanic skill and knowledge
of modern musical technique. He augmented the choir and engaged a new
music director: Leib Zeitlin (1884-1930). After Zeitlin emigrated to America,
Zaludkovsky hired the young conductor, Hanan Glazer (1902-1942).

Zaludkovsky also presided over Moshe's marriage to Raya Zrankin, after
which the newlyweds settled into an apartment on Dominican Street, near
Gaon of Vilna Street, in the Jewish Quarter. Moshe was deeply influenced by
Hazzan Zaludkovsky 's facile handling of the nusah ha-t'fillah. He was there-
fore saddened when Zaludkovsky left Vilna in 1925; he was losing a friend
as well as a teacher. Again began the search for a successor, with a different
outcome this time, as Moshe relates.

The choir's director, Hanan Glazer, loved me like a brother and occasionally
let me sing the line marked for "Cantor" in certain compositions. One
Shabbat, the tenor singing solo in Abraham Dunajewsky's Mimkom'kha
suddenly got lost, and Glazer signaled me to take over. I wasn't prepared
but managed to do an exceptional job. After that, worshipers began to
ask that I be allowed to stand as hazzan before the Ark. Surprisingly,

127

the gabba'im acceded to their request. Unfortunately, when I began to
daven, my fellow tenors — out of jealousy — refused to cooperate with the
conductor, an action that threw off the entire choral balance. Thus my
baptism under fire as an independent hazzan on the Shabbat of B'har, 1925,
was accompanied by a children's choir alone. I scraped through without
mishap, and then began the pressure from congregants to appoint me
Chief Cantor of Tohoras hakkodesh Synagogue.

My opposition consisted of one individual, the head gabbai, Shaul Rozental.
"It cannot be, " he said, "that a m'shoreirirom the choir should be appointed
hazzan in our shul!"

And so began yet another round of auditions during which popular
demand forced Rozental to assign me another Shabbat service. I sang^lv
ha-rahamim hu y'raheim am amusim, and when circling the synagogue
with the Torah Scroll I could feel the worshipers' excitement. Among my
supporters was a member with musical understanding, a good-hearted
fellow named Isaac Luft who rallied the group that wanted me. One of
those opposed told him "All you efforts are for naught. Shaul Rozental
doesn't agree, and Moshe Koussevitzky will not get the job." Luft told him,
"And I say that Moshe Koussevitzky will be the next Shtot-khazn (City
Cantor) of Vilna!" Isaac was determined that I become better known in
the many other synagogues of Vilna, and he arranged for me to officiate
in a different one every Shabbat. I was in luck; renovation of the Tohoras
hakkodesh building allowed Glazer and the choir to accompany me on
all of these guest appearances.

Months passed until one day Isaac Luft came running with news that
he'd arranged for me to daven a Shabbat in the third most important
Vilna synagogue, Zavels Kloyz. I was to meet immediately with its head
gabbai, Isaac Trotsky. Luft had not only prepared the way; he went with
me, greeting Trotsky with " Shabbat shalom" That worthy replied "Nu, so
this is the khazn you've been telling me about? Let him go before the Ark
and we'll see what he sounds like. He looks presentable, but does he have
what it takes at the amudl He should know, by the way, that he won't be
oney for his davening."

Not paying a hazzan for his audition service was a custom that had be-
come "law" in Vilna. All the synagogues— including the Great Synagogue— ex-
ploited hazzanim this way. Each one conducted a "March of the Candidates"
that dragged on for months, during the course of which the congregation along
with roaming bands of non-member hazzanut-lovers enjoyed the finest daven-
ing, gratis, without even having to pay the candidates' travel expenses!

Moshe approached the ordeal with fear and trembling, perhaps because
he'd just learned that Gabbai Trotsky had invited him to officiate on the Ya-

mim nora'im while overlooking the fact that he'd already agreed to audition
another hazzan— Mendel Zupovitch— over those same holy days! When
Trotsky finally remembered, the only alternative was to promise Moshe that
he'd be auditioning for Sukkot. More important, that same week Moshe was
summoned to the offices of the synagogue where its treasurer partially pre-
paid him for his upcoming service. The fee, equivalent to five dollars in today's
currency, was considered a large sum in those days, especially to Moshe who
was by then the father of an infant daughter, Sophia (1925-1952). His financial
status was rather shaky; any money he earned was of great importance to
the growing family.

The renovations at Tohoras hakkodesh had been completed and Borukh
Kaminsky had won the contest for Chief Cantor. To accommodate his bari-
tone voice the choral music had to be re-arranged. Rehearsals were held ev-
ery evening from six to ten. Hanan Glazer remained as director, but rumors
circulated that the choir would be disbanded right after the High Holidays.
This worried Moshe tremendously, since his livelihood depended entirely
on his salary as a chorister. Glazer and two singers— the bass Barishnik and
the tenor Dushansky — were sent as delegates to Shaul Rozental to ascertain
whether the rumor had any truth to it. Rozental vehemently denied it and as
proof told them that every singer would receive payment in advance for his
service, but he refused to put that stipulation in a binding contract.

When the advance payments to choristers had been made, Moshe discov-
ered that what he'd received didn't tally with his own figures; he was short
money. He asked Hanan Glazer for an explanation and was told that Shaul
Rozental ordered the reduction because of the Sabbaths he had officiated in
other synagogues with the choir. This upset Moshe greatly. He confronted
Rozental who curtly rebuffed him: "We'll talk after the holidays." "But I need
the money now," explained Moshe, "to buy food for my wife and child." Rozen-
tal's reply was, "Anyone who doesn't like the arrangement is free to leave!"

It was then that Moshe decided to take charge of his own destiny. He gave
Hanan Glazer notice beforehand that he would not be singing over the High
Holidays. On the eve of Rosh Hashanah he and his father went to daven at
Vilna's Philharmonic Hall which had been rented for supplementary High
Holiday services led by Hazzan Avraham Moshe Bernstein, an earlier victim
of Shaul Rozental's high-handed stewardship of Tohoras hakkodesh. The
hall was packed with fans of Bernstein's. As he rose for the hazzan's Call to
Prayer— Bar'khu— Moshe folded his hands behind his back. Suddenly he felt
someone tugging at them. He turned and recognized a boy from the Tohoras
hakkodesh choir, panting and pulling at him with one hand. In the other hand

129

the lad held a sum of money that turned out to be exactly the amount that had
been deducted from his compensation. Following the boy outside, Moshe was
told that the lead tenor Dushansky hadn't shown up, that worshipers wouldn't
let the service begin without the choir, and that a riot was about to break out.
The junior gabba'im— over Rozental's objections— had quickly "arranged" to
pacify the other renegade singer— Moshe— by sending him the money he'd
been shorted, via Alto Express.

And who was the fast-running alto they'd entrusted with this mission
of mercy? Moshe's youngest brother, David. After exchanging a knowing
glance with his father, Moshe told David that he wouldn't touch this money
nor would he return to Tohoras hakkodesh. The next day he and Dushansky
went to pray at the Great Synagogue of Vilna where Hazzan Aharon Helfand
(1897-1965) officiated, secretly hoping they might be recognized and called
upon to sing with the choir. It quickly became clear that Rozental had issued
a "ban" against them to the gabba'im of every synagogue in Vilna, including
the Head Gabbai of the Great Synagogue. Instead of singing, they listened to
Helfand's sweet voice, difficult as it was for both of them to remain passive
after years of active involvement with High Holiday services.

The Ten days of Penitence passed by. On the day of Yom Kippur Moshe
returned to hear Helfand, and for Neilah he walked back to Philharmonic Hall
and heard Bernstein. There, his "guardian angel" Isaac Luft cheered him with
the reminder that Sukkot was only five days off. The next morning Yitzhak
Trotsky sent a messenger summoning him to a hurried meeting. "Young man,"
he said, "now that we've shown good faith by giving you a down-payment
towards Sukkos, how much will the whole business cost us?" Moshe steeled
himself and asked, "Do you want me to bring a choir?" "Of course," returned
Trotsky, "but a small one."

"In that case, figure on $120."
"Why $120, and not $100?"
"That's the price."
"Come back tomorrow and I'll have a final answer for you."

The next day Moshe received a positive reply from Trotsky. It was two
days before the Festival, and with Dushansky 's help he assembled a small
choir that same day. The services went extremely well, and on Simhat Torah
he was asked to officiate on Shabbat b'reishit as well, when the new month
of Heshvan would be blessed. That Tuesday he received two other pieces of
good news. A contract arrived that made him yearly hazzan of Zavels Kloyz
Synagogue, and he would have a permanent choir under the leadership of

conductor/composer/cantor Akiva Durmashkin: a full-time position at last!
That year turned out to be a real learning experience; he and the choir created
new works regularly, and Moshe became one of the city's most sought-after
hazzanim. Along with Aharon Gelfand of the Great Synagogue and Jacob
Goldstein (1897-1961) of Tohoras hakkodesh he was considered one of Vilna's
reigning triumvirate. Week after week, Yitzhak Trotsky would request that he
give specific prayers special treatment, and he'd offer a detailed critique on
them afterwards. Moshe accepted this well-meant advice in the same spirit
it was offered, and he benefited greatly from it.

Not only did the hazzanim of Vilna move frequently within the city, they
moved just as frequently to other cities. Having made their reputations in
Vilna, they went on to earn their livings elsewhere. Gershon Sirota (1874-1943)
and Mordechai Hershman (1888-1940), for example, left the Great Synagogue
after fairly short stays of eight and seven years each. So did Aharon Helfand,
who moved on to the Tlomackie Synagogue in Warsaw (as had Sirota almost
two decades before), leaving the Great Synagogue position open once again.
Officials there began seriously to consider young Moshe Koussevitzky, the
same ones who less than a year earlier had refused to let him sing with the
choir. Now he was so highly regarded in Vilna that they had no choice but to
seek him for the chief cantorial post.

It was an exceptional achievement for Moshe; this was, after all, a position
that had been held by world-class hazzanim. Besides Sirota and Hershman
there were David Moshe Steinberg (1871-1941) and David Roitman (1884-
1943). Nor had Moshe trod an easy path to this throne. Although the masses
loved his singing, those in charge argued that he lacked the requisite gravitas
for the job. A groundswell of popular demand led to his being granted a trial
Shabbat; after that even his sworn enemies turned into admirers.

Avraham Keren, from the National History Archive at the University of
Haifa, chronicles an episode connected with Moshe's appointment as Shtot
khazn of Vilna. In his essay, "Shoemaker and Tailor in Jewish and Polish
Proverbs" (Anthology of Research into Jewish Folklore, vols. 13-14, Jerusalem:
Magnes Press, 1992), Keren states that after he'd won over the populace,
Moshe Koussevitzky was ordered to appear before the head of the Jewish
community. That individual wanted to invalidate his appointment because
he came from a family of tailors in Smorgon— a town of laborers!

Professor Ben-Tsiyon Dinur (1884-1973) mentions in his posthumous
Jerusalem of Lithuania (New York: Eliezer Ron, 1974):

Thousands of people attended services at the great Synagogue of Vilna
every Shabbat. Only a few, perhaps ten percent, stood wrapped in prayer
shawls and actually prayed. The rest had finished davening long before
and had even recited the Shabbat Kiddush [followed by a repast]. Only
afterwards did they go to hear the singing of Sirota, of Roitman or of the
other famous hazzanim who were privileged to officiate in the Shtot-shul.
Vilna understood the art of hazzanut, knew how to honor hazzanim and
also how to choose them. Serving the Great Synagogue of Vilna was an
important step for many renowned hazzanim to rise in the world of Jewish
religious music.

Moshe Koussevitzky's short tenure there proved no exception; crowds
of worshipers overflowed the Great Synagogue every time he davened with
the choir, under Akiva Durmashkin's musical leadership. Moshe's brother
Simcha had joined the choir's tenor section. His brother Jacob was already
on his own as a cantor in Kremnitz. Young David, still an alto, had moved
with Moshe from Tohoras hakkodesh. Musically gifted, he would lead the
choir himself when Moshe didn't officiate. On those occasions Choir Direc-
tor Durmashkin, who also served as Hazzan Sheini, relied on David to fill in
for him as choirmaster.

Moshe's reputation now spread throughout Europe. He was invited to
daven and concertize— for handsome remuneration— in Grodno, Bialystok
and other cities in Galicia. Only in Vilna could the m'vinim boast (tongue in
cheek) that they were fulfilling the verse from S'lihot:

Hinam ba'im eilekha ... lishmo'a el ha-rinah v'-el ha-t'fillah

"freely do they come before You... [enabling us] to hear song and prayer."

Moshe, all the wiser for his recent experience, knew inwardly that the time
had come for him to seek a position outside of Vilna. He applied to the new
Shomrei ha-dat Synagogue in Antwerp, and when Aharon Helfand left the
Tlomackie in Warsaw for London, Moshe decided to apply there as well. At
least 200 other hazzanim evidently had come to the same decision, but this
time Moshe's star shone brightly and he prevailed over all of them. In 1928
the Koussevitzky family, which now included Alexander, who was born the
year before, moved to Warsaw. Moshe would still return to Vilna periodically
for concerts and to guest-officiate at various synagogues. He'd left an indelible
mark on hazzanut there. Raphael Chasman, editor of the Vilna periodical Di
yiddishe shtimme, cites Kipras Petrouskas, a leading tenor of the Lithuanian
Opera: "From Moshe Koussevitzky's vocal endowment one could produce
five more superlative tenors."

Warsaw

The year 1938 marked Moshe's tenth anniversary at the Tlomackie. During
that decade he had matured into the Jewish world's most acclaimed hazzan,
and in recognition of his service, his synagogue's gabba'im assumed a cal-
culated risk in allowing him to embark on a tour of the United States. They
remembered only too well how Sirota came, saw, and was conquered by the
lure of American Jewry's willingness to pay royally for the privilege of hear-
ing Europe's finest hazzanim at the Amud. Their former cantor had left them
high and dry even during the High Holiday season, a practice that eventually
led to his departure. The gabba'im knew there was no legitimate reason to
prevent Moshe from touring abroad. They therefore put his trip in the form
of a Tenth Anniversary gift: two months— February and March— for him to
concertize and officiate wherever he pleased, on condition that he return in
time to officiate at Pesah services in Warsaw. During his absence, his Hazzan
Sheini— Pinchas Sherman (1887-1943), who chaired the Cantors Society of
Poland — would officiate with the choir.

In February of 1938 Moshe and Raya departed for London, where they
visited with his three brothers and his widowed mother, Alta. Brother Sim-
cha was at Dukes Place Synagogue, Jacob at Dalston and David at Hendon.
Moshe and Raya sailed on the Queen Mary from London to New York, where
tour manager Jacob Wallach met them at the pier along with a delegation
of hazzanim that included Joshua Weisser (1882-1952), David Roitman,
several representatives of the Khazonim Farband (Jewish Ministers Cantors
Association of America), David Moshe Steinberg and choir director Meyer
Machtenberg (1884-1979). They accompanied the Koussevitzkys to the As-
tor Hotel, which quickly became a mecca for cantors, journalists, public
figures and artists to come and pay homage. On February 14 th , an official
welcoming dinner was held at the hotel. The 400 attendees were addressed
by Khazonim Farband President Ben-Zion Kapov-Kagan (1899-1953), Leib
Glantz (1898-1964), and Jacob Breitman (1895-n.d.). Moshe spoke about the
status of khazonus and yiddishkeyt in Poland. Newspapers reported that his
tone of voice and appearance turned deadly serious as he described the dis-
tressing current situation, and advised his colleagues to prepare for Aliyah to
the Land of Israel. The evening concluded with his singing of Israel Schorr's
She-yibaneh beit ha-mikdash, with everyone joining as an alfresco choir in
the refrain led by Jacob Rapaport (1890-1943), and accompanied at the piano
by Meyer Machtenberg.

Artists from the Yiddish theater also welcomed him at a gathering where
Joseph Rumshinsky, Jacob Kalich and Maurice Schwartz performed scenes
from their respective repertoires.

Mordechai Hershman and his family hosted the Koussevitzkys in their
Brooklyn apartment and then took their guests on a walking tour of the vibrant
Modern Orthodox Jewish life in Borough Park. Feeling right at home, Moshe
confided to Hershman — his long-time idol — his secret wish for the future:
to live in Erets yisrael, to officiate for Yamim nora'im in the United States,
and from the proceeds to visit wherever he liked. That way he wouldn't be
davening for financial reward but in order to worship the One Who Chooses
Songs of Praise— Ha-boheir b'shirei zimrah.

Carnegie Hall was filled to the rafters for Moshe's concert. Accompanied
by pianist Nikolas Zaslavsky He was billed as:

"Yiddish-Polish Tenor— Primo Cantor,
Tlomackie Synagogue, Warsaw."

The program consisted of Hebrew prayers, Yiddish songs and operatic
arias. Part One included Leo Low's Mah gadlu, Israel Schorr's Hateih elohai
ozn'kha Joshua Weisser's Der alter khazn, Mozart's Hallelujah and Verdi's
Celeste Aida. Part Two included Verdi's Questa o Quella, Israel Alter 's Ribono
shel olam and Akavya ben mahalaleil omeir, Josef Rosenblatt's Ad heinah,
and Israel Schorr's She-yibaneh belt ha-mikdash.

The universally high praise that followed his Carnegie Hall concert provided
a perfect curtain raiser for Moshe's American tour. Interestingly, the Polish
tenor Jan Kiepura had made his Metropolitan opera debut that same evening.
He was one of Moshe's greatest admirers in Warsaw and often came to the
Tlomackie Synagogue to hear him. Now he had a chance to hear Moshe again,
at the Rumeynishe shul on Rivington Street in Manhattan's Lower East Side,
the New York synagogue where every famous visiting or resident hazzan had
officiated over the years. It was Shabbat m'vorkhim ha-hodesh adar sheini,
February 25-26, 1938, with Meyer Machtenberg conducting the choir. After
the service, as anticipated, Moshe was immediately offered a yearly contract
with irresistible salary and benefits— but he never wavered from his promise
to return to Warsaw for Pesah. For the better part of two months he took
America by storm on both bimah and concert stage. The press reaction was
phenomenal. Before departing, he officiated in New York twice more: in New
Lots, Brooklyn and on Shabbat rosh hpdesh nisan in Congregation Anshei
slonim on Norfolk Street on the Lower East Side, where his Atah yatsarta

prayer carried people to the peak of religious fervor at the words horvah
ireinu... "desolate our City, ruined our Temple."

He and Raya sailed back to Europe on April 5 th . Just before embarkation
they took leave of family members who lived in the U.S., and of the prominent
hazzanim who had come to see them off. Back in Warsaw, adorned in praise,
his Pesah davening was accompanied by the choir under David Ayzenstadt
(1889-1942), his close friend from childhood and musical collaborator at
Tlomackie from the beginning. He declined to act upon a suggestion by his old
friend from Vilna— Hazzan Nathan Stolnitz, now living in Toronto— that he
plan a similar tour of Canada in the near future. Not until 1947 would Moshe
return to the United States, and a year later he would finally get to Canada.

When Moshe began rehearsing with the choir for Yamim nor aim of 1938 he
had no inkling that it would be his last High Holiday services in the Tlomackie
Synagogue's sanctuary. The Polish Army Commander Rydz Shmigly swag-
gered before the world, confident that the non-aggression treaty his country
had signed with Nazi Germany in 1934 still held, as did the mutual aid pacts
with England and France. On December 12, 1938, a Central Synagogue for
Jewish Soldiers in the Polish Army was inaugurated. Leaders of the Army ap-
peared at its dedication alongside Cantors Moshe Koussevitzky and Joshua
Lichterman. Moshe's rabbi, Professor of Semitics Moshe Schorr (1874-1941),
delivered a Benediction, and Chief Army Chaplain Rabbi Borukh Steinberg
led the Dedication ceremony. Composer Leon Weiner, who accompanied at
the organ, was appointed Musical Director of the synagogue. All of this would
shortly become a moot point. The Polish Army would be crushed by the Ger-
man Wehrmacht within weeks, and a few months later, Chaplain Steinberg
would be among Polish officers executed by Soviet forces in the Katyn Forest.

During that final year before World War II broke out, Moshe Koussevitzky
was invited to officiate in various Polish cities. In January of 1939 and again
in March, he and his pianist daughter, Sophia, traveled to London for benefit
concerts on behalf of refugee children in Zbunshin, a border town between
Poland and Germany. Thousands of Polish Jews living in Germany had been
forcefully expatriated there, and the Polish government refused to renew
their passports. There the Jewish families remained, without worldly goods,
a roof over their heads or official status. The Joint Distribution Committee
sent food, and Moshe was asked to help raise money. Shortly thereafter, he
led his final pre-War service as a guest-hazzan, in Bialystok.

In Warsaw, collections were taken to strengthen the Polish Army and Air
Force. Moshe and the Tlomackie choir led by David Ayzenstadt were recruited
in this effort. In Philharmonic Hall they gave a benefit concert to fortify the

135

city, and establish a Civil Defense in the event of air raids. The hall was filled to
capacity and people were unreservedly appreciative of the music. Dr. Felicjan
Slawoj-Skladkowski, Prime Minister of the Second Polish Republic, greeted
the audience and — uncharacteristically — thanked the Jewish population for
its contributions to the state. When Poland fell, he fled to Vilna, where he
would remain for the next seven years.

In her book, When the Curtain Fell (1987), Lilly Goldenberg— daughter of
the Tlomackie's secretary, David Pulman — tells of the last days before hostili-
ties officially erupted, and of the prayer services in the bombed synagogue. At
summer's end, as her father sat in his office finalizing seating arrangements
for members, Cantor Koussevitzky and Choir Director Ayzenstadt held re-
hearsals in preparation for Yamim nora'im. One morning a siren sounded,
the ceiling shook and everyone ran down to the basement under the Library
of the National Jewish Institute that adjoined the synagogue building. War-
saw was being bombed, and the radio announced that German troops were
advancing deep into Polish territory. Parliament had met and its members
declared, "Poland would fight on to victory... " The men of the congregation
helped reinforce the building, and women enlisted to administer First Aid.
It was the eve of Rosh Hashanah. The explosions grew more frequent and
powerful. Lilly Goldenberg would later write:

The sight that I witnessed last night I don't believe could have occurred
even during the Spanish Inquisition. In the basements of the Hebrew
Library which served as a shelter for us, by the light of a single menorah
stood hundreds of people crowded together. By the prayer stand stood
the hazzan dressed in a black coat instead of the white kitl he normally
wore on Rosh Hashanah. The prayers were recited in a depressingly low
voice. In a corner, women wailed openly. When the blessing "Who has
kept us alive, sustained us and enabled us to reach this season" was said,
I thought: what significance does it have in these circumstances?... [On
Yom Kippur] the images of subterranean services recurred along with
the awful crying out for mercy. All at once the lights went out and a
bombardment began that continued non-stop all night.

Thus passed the High Holidays of 1939 — in basements. Hunger was per-
vasive. No roundups as yet, no ghetto, but signs of an impending catastrophe
everywhere. Moshe Koussevitzky tells of his last service in Warsaw.

It was on Shabbat b'reishit, October 7, 1939, still held in the basement.
One of the choir boys, Yitzhak Eisner, celebrated his Bar Mitzvah. We
blessed the coming month of Heshvan for good. But the "good" was far
away, and no one knew what would happen in the next hour, let alone the
next month... Among those attending was a Gestapo officer. After the

davening he approached me and I thought: this is the end. To my surprise
he said, Giben zie mir das Telefon Buck ("give me the telephone book").
After flipping through its pages and jotting down several numbers he
said, Herr Oberkantor, trinken zie nichts kaltes wasser (Mr. Chief Cantor,
do not drink cold water").
If nothing else, that brief encounter convinced Moshe to try and escape
from Warsaw, come what may. With God's help he managed to get to Bialy-
stok, which had been captured by the Russians early on. From there, he and
the family were taken into the Soviet Union where they would remain for the
duration of the war. He had tried to convince David Ayzenstadt to flee with
him, to no avail. Ayzenstadt, his wife, and daughter Miriam who was called
the "Singer of the Ghetto," died in the Shoah. So, too, did almost the entire
Tlomackie choir; among the few who survived was the Bar-Mitzvah boy of
that final Shabbat service, Jack Eisner, who lives in the United States.

Russia

The war burst upon Poland like thunder on a clear day. Thousands of refugees
met their death on the roads leading out of Warsaw. Lines of communication
were severed and rumors spread concerning the fate of those who had fled.
From the newspaper Haboker of December 14, 1939:
Koussevitzky's Voice
Returnees from Poland report that the famous Hazzan Koussevitzky
has escaped from Warsaw and attempted to cross over the border into
Russian-occupied territory. He was captured, Nazi border guards stripped
him naked and left him with nothing. After much suffering he managed
to cross the border, find clothing in a nearby town and head for Bialystok.
At a railway station he came upon a group of Soviet officers, who invited
him to join them in a drink. The great hazzan, wrapped in rags, agreed
to sing for them. When he began a familiar operatic aria they marveled
that here before them stood an unforgettable artist. Koussevitzky asked if
they would permit him to bring his family and belongings from Warsaw
to Bialystok. The Russians— whose Foreign Minister Molotov had just
signed a pact with his German counterpart, Von Ribbentrop— gave him
a laisse-passer letter to the Nazi occupying forces, requesting that they
assist the bearer in anyway they can. And thus did Koussevitzky's mighty
voice save his family and his property from the Nazi inferno.
The reporter added a disclaimer: "This story, while moving, may not stand
up under close scrutiny in all its details." Sure enough, on December 31, 1939
the front page of Hatsofeh carried a follow-up item:

The mother of Hazzan Moshe Koussevitzky of Warsaw, who resides in
London, received word from her son that he is alive and well. He escaped
from Poland to Bucharest, Roumania.

This story was equally incorrect, since Moshe had fled not to Bucharest but
to Bialystok. In "Moshe Koussevitzky, A Reminiscence" (Die Presse, Buenos
Aires, July 26, 1958), Yitzhok Yanusevitz writes about a concert of Moshe's in
Bialystok, given shortly after his escape. There wasn't an empty seat or even
room to stand in the concert hall, so people stood outside. Koussevitzky sang
a full and varied program, plus encores. Several voices from the audience
called out loudly for "Kol Nidre" and other Jewish pieces. Moshe could not
comply because the authorities forbade it, yet the atmosphere than night
was reminiscent of Yom Kippur Eve at the time of the Inquisition. The writer
Yosef Shimon Goldstein, known as "the happy pessimist," verifies that the
Russians prohibited Koussevitzky from singing cantorial prayers, but asserts
that Moshe sneaked the song Dos yiddishe lied — words by Anshel Schorr
(including prayer snippets), music by Sholom Secunda— into his programs.

It came about because Lithuania was still independent and unoccupied,
and could be used as a roundabout route to the Russian capitol — a cultural
hub where Moshe might be able to do some good for the war effort. He trav-
eled to Vilna, from where it took him several weeks to reach Moscow. There,
concert selections were immediately organized for him — on condition that he
sing no cantorials. Ephraim Auerbach, the official in charge of these concerts,
was himself a lover of hazzanut and a fan of Koussevitzky 's. Together they
devised a clever ruse. Whenever Moshe was about to recite a prayer, he'd
introduce it in Russian: "I come from Fascist Poland where they used to sing
this way," and he'd then demonstrate by chanting a prayer or a Psalm. After
the "demonstration" he would add: "Now I've been lucky enough to reach
free Russia where they sing songs of labor and heroism," and he'd perform
something from the Russian repertoire favored by the Soviet authorities.

Over time, recalled Moshe, even the Russians enjoyed his "Fascist Poland"
examples. It was an audience unlike any he'd ever had before. He inserted
every ounce of Jewish angst that he possibly could into these "demonstrations."
After every concert he'd return to his room despondent and broken-hearted.

In 1941 a Moscow gathering was held in honor of Polish Jewish writers
who'd escaped to Russia. The master of ceremonies was the actor Shlomo
Mikhoels (1890-1948), one of many Jewish artists whom Stalin would purge
after the war. When Koussevitzky entered the room, Mikhoels noticed and
asked him from the podium whether he'd favor those present with his sing-
ing — not operatic arias but alte lieder "old songs" — meaning prayers. Moshe

138

caught the innuendo and replied that he, too, loved to hear "old songs." He
chanted Kol Nidre and Un'taneh tokefdl this "Communist" gathering in the
Godless Soviet Union's epicenter. That same year he appeared at a concert
organized by the Central Arts Committee, with tremendous success. After-
wards, his accompanist, the pianist Kapochinsky, sent him a photo with the
inscription: "To an artist on the highest level that I've ever been privileged
to appear with."

When Germany attacked the Soviet Union in June 1941, Moshe began
traveling from one military base to another, cheering the troops. Occasion-
ally some Russian officer would request that he sing Kol Nidre. Whenever
that happened his listeners would invariably end up weeping. The Soviet au-
thorities valued the treasure that Moshe's voice represented. When German
forces neared Moscow and it was feared that the city would fall into their
hands, the government was moved to Kovishev — and Moshe along with it.
His name was officially Russified to Mikhael Viktoriyevich (his late father
Avigdor posthumously becoming Viktor). He sang in the most far-flung
bases, and the soldiers— entranced by his Slavic-sounding lyrico-dramatic
tenor — couldn't applaud him enough.

A concert of his in September 1943 rated mentioning Tsayt of London:
Khazn Koussevitzky's "Kol Nidre" in Moscow: A
Huge Concert Sponsored by the State Musical Academy
The article went on to describe the event's considerable success, name the
accompanist, Jacob Kletzky, and list the full program. Koussevitzky sang in
Yiddish, Russian, Polish, Italian and Spanish, the highlight of the evening be-
ingKol Nidre. Attending were Jews and non-Jews, among them several senior
officers of the Red Army. The artist was obliged to repeat the Kol Nidre several
times, and tears glistened in the eyes of many. New York's Morning Journal
also gave the concert full coverage, adding that Koussevitzky sang Kol Nidre
at all his concerts for the troops, and that hardened fighters often burst into
tears upon hearing the prayer.

In 1944 Moshe was sent to Tiflis, the capitol of Gruzia, and was immedi-
ately made leading tenor of the local opera company. Among other roles he
appeared as Eleazar in Lajuive, Cavaradossi in Tosca, Alfredo in La Traviata
and Prince Shouisky in Boris Goudonov. He also appeared as a guest artist
with the opera companies of Moscow, Leningrad, Kiev and Odessa. He and
his family were finally reunited and they remained in Tiflis for a year. It was
not an easyyear. His success aroused jealousy, and more than once he spotted

an automobile closely following his, apparently bent on causing an accident
that would remove him as a competitor onstage.

The European phase of World War II ended with Nazi Germany's uncon-
ditional surrender to the Allied forces under General Dwight Eisenhower
on May 8, 1945. In Gruzia, Moshe Koussevitzky learned that the Soviet gov-
ernment had signed a treaty that allowed Polish citizens residing in Russia
to return home. In Moscow, a rapidly set up Polish Jewish Committee was
aiding the returning refugees, and Moshe went there to avail himself of their
help. He didn't dare attempt to contact them from Tiflis, for fear that the local
opera company wouldn't release him. Rabbi Elhanan Surotzkin advised him
to approach Chief Rabbi Schleifer of Moscow, and through him, the Central
Synagogue's gabba'im. The latter arranged for him to officiate there for the
Yamim nora'im of 1945, as well as for Pesah of 1946. For Yamim nora'im of 1946
he officiated in Bournemouth, England, "through the generosity of Reuben
Marriott of the famed Green Park Hotel and a few of his friends," according to
the Centennial Commemorative publication of the Bournemouth Synagogue.

Still others helped him to obtain a release from the Tiflis Opera and bring
his family to Moscow. In 1946, a conference for the purpose of repatriating
all Jews living in the Soviet Union took place in Moscow. The actress Ida Ka-
minska spoke, along with the poet Elkhanan Indelman and Professor Berel
Mark. Among the guests were Russo-Jewish writers Peretz Markish, Itzik
Pfeffer, Der Nistor, Dovid Bergelson, Dovid Hofstein, and the actor Shlomo
Mikhoels. Moshe Koussevitzky was asked to recite a memorial prayer for
those who were murdered in the Holocaust. When he uttered the words Eil
malei rahamim... the entire assemblage broke into tears. According to eye-
witness Yosef Shimon Goldstein, it took several hours until the proceedings
could continue.

Before his return to Poland in June 1946, Moshe participated in a memo-
rial service for Mikhael Kalinin, the Soviet President who had been a friend
to the Jews. As for returning to Moscow, Moshe told friends that, were he
to receive a formal invitation to visit the Soviet Union, as had Jan Peerce, he
would like nothing better than to officiate again at the Central Synagogue as
he had in 1945 and 1946.

Moshe emigrated to America in 1947, still using the Russified name Mikhael.
The New York Post was so intrigued that it ran a full-page feature on him.
Along with his amazing wartime story, it quoted a few of the 1938 reviews,
including the critics' marveling at his ability to execute a perfect trill — full
voice — on high B-flat. The article also mentioned — in passing — that Kous-

sevitzky's daily breakfast consisted of seven oranges. That day, grocery stores
in every Jewish neighborhood of the city sold out their stock of citrus fruit.

A much sought-after author, lecturer and journalist, Akiva Zimmermann has published
over 4, 000 articles, reviews, essays and books on the history and performance of Jewish
sacred music, for numerous publishing houses, journals and periodicals, in several
languages. This chronicle of Moshe Koussevitzky's career in Vilna, Warsaw and Russia
between the Wars is excerpted from Zakhor ezk'renu od — I Remember Him Still-
commemorating the centennial of the great cantor's birth (Tel Aviv: Sha'arei ron, 1999)
and is reprinted here in translation, with permission. Akiva Zimmermann's article,
"R'shuyotfor the sh'liah tsibbur" appeared in the Fall 2008 Journal. His seventh book,
devoted to the cantor and scholar Pinchas Minkowsky, was released earlier this year.

In America as in Europe, Moshe Koussevitzky's dramatic interpretations of others'
compositions proved to be the vehicles that people most closely associated with him.
A typical example is Moshe's recording of his friend Israel Alter's Akavya ("The son
of Mahalalel taught that awareness of our beginning, our end, and before Whom we
shall one day have to account for our lives, will keep us from wrongdoing") has in-
fluenced two generations of performers as well as appreciators of enduring hazzanic
chant. Israeli music critic Menachem Kipnis characterized that recording as being
duly produced k'-dat moshe v'yisrael ("according to the law of Moses and Israel";
Akiva Zimmermann, "They Were Four" Journal of Synagogue Music, vol. XI, no. 2,
December 1981: 34). [J Ah]

Akavya ben mahalaleil omeir

Text: Pirke Avot, 3.1

Music: Israel Alter, 1930
Piano: J. Mandelbrod

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The Cantor of Czyzewo 1

By Gerszon Gora, translated by ] err old Landau

Cantorial issues never affected the town. There was never any need to advertise
prior to the High Holy Days that they were searching for a qualified cantor
for the Musaf services, as was the case in many other towns where the issues
surrounding cantors took a very important place.

Reb Eliezer, the cantor of the town, was a "Cantor" in the full sense of the
word. He served as the prayer leader in the Great beis medrash and was the
cantor of the masses of people in the town, of all of the artisans, merchants,
and workshop owners who were not of Hasidic extraction and who had
worshipped for generations in the Great beis medrash in accordance with
the Ashkenazic prayer rite. He was especially the cantor of hundreds of pi-
ous women who on the High Holy Days all looked similar to each other, like
cherubs with their white, shiny, clear clothing. These were pure and sincere
women, who never turned their attention to differences of opinions and the
opposing views of Hasidim and Misnagdim, or between the Ashkenazic,
Sephardic, Habad and Arizal prayer rites. It was the woven prayer of a Jewish
woman coming from her heart.

In the women's balcony, which was like a large gallery of pillars that occupied
half of the space of the Beis Midrash, all of the women of the town gathered
together in one unit, or more accurately — with one heart. There worshipped
the wives of the Hasidim and Misnagdim, of the Zionists and Agudists, of
the Aleksander and Gur Hasidim. When on occasion the modern elements
recommended bringing a modern cantor for the High Holy Days, a cantor
who knew how to sing with a choir, who wore a tall, velvet hat and held a
tuning fork in his hands — the gabba'im (trustees) of the synagogue would
push aside this suggestion immediately, without bringing it to deliberation.
For it was sufficient for these gabba'im to hear the enthusiastic opinion of
these women about the prayers of Reb Eliezer, which they found to grow
more meaningful and sweeter every year, in order to push aside any recom-
mendation of this nature.

The songs and melodies of Reb Eliezer the Cantor were the topic of the day
among all that came to the Great Synagogue on the days of Rosh Hashanah
and Yom Kippur.

Reb Eliezer was not a ba'al t'fillah (lay prayer leader) like Reb Shaul Tzvi
in the synagogue of the Gur Hasidim, Reb Yeshaya of the synagogue of the

1 (Yiddish: Tshizev), in the Lomza district of Poland, near Bialystok.

Aleksander Hassidim, Reb Barukh the teacher in the synagogue of the Sokolow
Hasidim, Reb Yankel Vibitker in "Khevra Mishnayos" or the other volunteer
leaders of the Hasidic prayer halls of the town. He was called "Reb Eliezer the
Cantor," and that was fitting for him. His manner of standing at the prayer
podium, his motions and enthusiastic melodies, as well as his clear, fine voice-
all of these gave him the character of an experienced, professional cantor. I
can still remember the unique image of his face, as if he stands alive before
my eyes: He was of average height. He had a dark beard that was divided
into two sections. The edges of the sections had turned silver, as if they were
singed by the flame of advancing age. His cheeks were thin and sunken, which
made his high, wide forehead stand out even further. His eyes were always
raised upward, so that your gaze would never meet his. He could chat with
you for hours without gazing directly at you with his eyes. He always made
the impression on everyone that he had a special relationship with Heaven,
a certain soulful attraction.

He occupied himself with his profession all the days of the year — or to be
more specific, his wife and daughters worked at their profession— the baking
of black rye. This bakery was called by his name: the Bakery of Reb Eliezer,
even though he himself did not know how to place dough into a bucket.

His only occupation was to assist from time to time in some sort of good
deed in order to ease the burden upon some person. He spent the rest of his
time in the Hasidic synagogue or in the Beis Midrash in front of an open book,
as he silently hummed heartwarming melodies. He was always engrossed in
thought. When he walked along the way, when he was standing, when he
was sitting with a book, his thoughts always enveloped him completely. He
always seemed like one who was caught in a place that was not his own, as if
he was a wanderer in a strange place. For what was the purpose of all of the
days and nights of the year, when it was impossible to pour himself out before
the podium with prayers and supplications to the Holy One Blessed Be He,
and to express the feelings of the heart and soul with such heartwarming and
awe-inspiring hymns?

Indeed, this was the nature of Reb Eliezer the Cantor. It was as if his soul
was created on the six days of creation for the sole purpose of the prayers
on the High Holy Days, and the purpose of his life was only for those pleas-
ant Musaf services that he performed with his voice, in the town of Tshizev.
Therefore, his life throughout the year was like a life lacking in content. Only
as the High Holy Days neared, when Aharon the shammash announced on
Friday night his traditional announcement that on Saturday night at midnight,

the S'lihot service would take place, did the fire of life burn in the eyes of Reb
Eliezer. His eyes appeared as burning coals.

To what is this similar? It is like a fish that is taken out of water, that flutters
about and struggles bitterly as it does not have a drop of water to breathe. At
the moment that it is returned to the water, it turns immediately into a new
creature, influenced with pleasant, effervescent life.

Those days, the days of Selichot and the Ten Days of Penitence, were to
him like the source of living waters, clear, fresh water, which restored his soul
to its full life. Then, all of the melodies and tunes that were hidden away all
year in the recesses of his heart were reawakened, and began to break out.
During those days, when he sat in his home, when he ate his meals, when
he walked around the streets looking for a good deed to perform, one could
hear from his mouth the pleasant melody of a hymn or a prayer. This was a
sort of practice, a preparation for the High Holy Days, when the tune would
break out with its full strength and sweetness.

Reb Eliezer did not conduct himself like other cantors, who would practice
for many weeks with a choir prior to the High Holy Days, in order that the
prayers should sound "just so." He did not follow this pattern. He would say,
"A cantor does not perform tricks. He has to prepare his heart, and the tunes
and melodies will come out properly."

The impression of those High Holy Days is still etched deep inside of me.
The synagogue was filled to the brim, especially on Yom Kippur when even
the "barber," the only Sabbath desecrator in the city, was not missing. All
of the worshippers were dressed in festive clothing. Meir and Binyumkhe,
the two well-known "drawers of water" whose characteristic pictures were
publicized by the American gazettes, were seated next to the western table.
Behind them were the porters and wagon drivers who used to worship at the
early Minyan, before sunrise, throughout the year. The women of the town
peered through the windows of the women's gallery at the large congregation
and the cantor standing next to the podium like a conductor. The cantor stood
there, his face like an angel, covered in his white kitl and over that, his tallis,
decorated with a filigreed silver atarah. He was assisted by his two sons. He
supplicated, sang endearing melodies and poured out his prayers as a trusted
emissary of the congregation, standing before the Holy One Blessed Be He.
Reb Eliezer composed new, original tunes for K'vakarat ("as a shepherd tends
his flock)" zn&Heyeih im pifiyot ("Be our advocate"), etc. The congregation
of worshippers reached the peak of emotion as he recited the hymn Eileh
ezkerah v'nafshi alai eshpekhah, whose theme is the Ten Sages Martyred by
the Romans. His voice was soft or was weeping as he poured out his heart

150

to all of the themes described in the moving words. The men and women of
the congregation wept together with him.

Reb Eliezer was weak by nature. His shriveled and lean body always suf-
fered from various ailments. Nevertheless, despite the fact that he expended
his entire essence in his prayers, the High Holy Days were to him a source of
health and strength. It was as if he could not live throughout the year were it
not for the merit of these days.

Reb Eliezer 's tenure lasted for many decades without interruption. Through-
out those years, he bestowed the best of his melodies, enchanting tunes and
heartwarming singing upon the townsfolk, until that bitter and violent day
when they were all brought to slaughter and buried in a large communal
grave. Then Reb Eliezer the Cantor perished as well — may God avenge his
death — and his voice was silenced forever.

This memoir appears in The Czyzewo [Poland] Memorial Book, translation of
Sefer Zikaron Czyzewo, Szymon Kand, ed. (Tel-Aviv: Its Former Residents), 1961.
http://www.jewishgen.org/yizkor/Czyzew/czy0781.html

E. M. Lilien, "Ghetto Synagogue," Juda, 1902

(reminiscent of the Great beis medrash where

the Cantor or Czyzewo officiated)

152

Ishei yisrael u-t'fillatam

(Compiled by Joseph Levine
and Solomon Mendelson)

For this ongoing project to document the hazzanim of Europe whose bodies along
with their prayers rose as smoke through the air during the Shoah; additional infor-
mation from Journal readers would be appreciated. The phrase ishei yisrael originally
described the intensity of religious fervor required for true prayer, as if to say: "May
our words have the same meaning and effect as burnt offerings once did for our an-
cestors." It is used here to indicate that in the death camps, our fellow sh'lihei tsibbur
and their prayers themselves became the "fiery offerings" of their era.

Associate Editor's Note: For the first time, 1 feel the need to comment publicly.
Halfway through the list of names, 1 had to write for no other reason than being
overwhelmed. To no other article in the years that 1 have formatted theJSM, have
I had such an emotional response. With each keystroke, with each name, city and
camp, my heart ached. I thought of the hands that first recorded each name, of the
people who recovered those lists, and of those who promulgated them for us so that
we may never forget. We know every one these people listed, for they are us. Please
study them with reverence, as I did and continue to do so. [RMB]

s of October 18, 2010

LAST & FIRST NAME

BORN

SERVED IN

WHERE & WHEN DIED

A

Aardewerk, Shmuel

Alpen Rijn, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Abkiewicz, Yaakov Leib

1864

Zagorow, Poland

Zagorow, Poland, 1941

Abram, Heiman

1914

Amsterdam, Holland

Fiirstengrube, Poland 1943

Abramis, Abram

1871

Gorodok, Russia

Riga, Latvia, 1941

Abramowitz, Yehuda

1895

Stoklishok, Lithuania

Stoklishok, Lithuania

Abramowitz, Yitzkhak Benzi<

m 1889

Jassy, Romania

Jassy, Romania, 1941

Abramson, Moshe

1884

Riga, Latvia

Riga, Latvia

Acco, Marco

1880

Trieste, Italy

Germany

Adler, Bernhard

1869

Schweinfurt, Bavaria

Theresienstadt, Cz., 1943

Adler, Josef

1921

Frankfurt/Main, Germ

i. Bergen-Belsen, Germ. 1945

Aikhenbaum, Mordekhai

1870

DnepoPetrovsky, Ukr.

Alma-Ata, Kazakhstan, 1944

Aizental, Haim Avraham

Dorohoi, Romania

Kapustyani, Ukraine

Akerman, Yosef

1875

Kurow, Poland

Kurow, Poland

Albala, Benvenisti

1876

Kastoria, Macedonia

Birkenau, Poland, 1944

Alkabez, Eli

1920

Dimotika, Greece

Auschwitz, Poland

Alkalai, Juda Leon

1878

Sarajevo, Bosnia

Alkalai, Mordekhai Jehuda

1877

Sarajevo, Bosnia

Alkalai, Rakhamim

Beograd, Serbia

Allegro, Jacob

1920

Amsterdam, Holland

Alpern, Avraham

1864

Pozecze, Poland

Alperovitz, Yitzkhak David

1853

Yurburg, Lithuania

Altarac, Izidor

1912

Bucharest, Romania

Altarac, Isidor

1912

Sarajevo, Bosnia

Altaratz, Aharon

1899

Bijelina, Bosnia

Andriesse, Andre

1915

Enschede, Holland

Angress, Leopold

Berlin, Germany

Anisman, Avraham

1887

Sosnowiec, Poland

Antman, Faivel

Przemsyl, Poland

Anzel, Moshe

1911

Lelow, Poland

Arnstein, Yitzkhak

1877

Galanta, Slovakia

Aronovitz, Azriel

1890

Mihaileni, Romania

Aryluk, Aron

1895

Astrakhan, Russia

As, Hersh-Tzvi

1870

Wilno, Poland

Asaf, Moshe

Dereczyn, Poland

Atijas, David

Zagreb, Croatia

Auchhiesiger, Eliezer

1887

Chrzanow, Poland

Averbukh, Hersh

1864

Kamenetz, Ukraine

:, Yugoslavia, 1942
Jasenovac, Yugoslavia
Beograd, Serbia
Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
1942
Yurburg, Lithuania, 1941
Smederevo.Yugos., 1942
Beograd, Serbia, 1941
Jasenovac, Yugoslavia, 1941
Mathausen, Austria, 1941

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Lvov, Poland
Skarzisk, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Podul, Moldavia, 1941
Stalingrad, Russia, 1942
Wilno, Poland, 1943
Dereczyn, Poland, 1942
Zagreb, Croatia, 1941
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942
1941

Babushkin, Aron

Sosnitsa, Ukraine

Bachrach, Israel

1918

Gravenhage, Holland

Badmann, Hans

1923

Frankfurt/Main, Germ.

Bakin, Yisrael

Krakow, Poland

Bakon, Khaim

1878

Berlin, Germany

Bakon, Srulik

1910

Berlin, Germany

Balaban, David Otto

1913

Vienna, Austria

Balaban, Mod

1896

Ismail, Romania

Balaban, Natan

1872

Radziwillow, Poland

Balaban, Natan

1905

Rowne, Poland

Balibar, Mikhael

Yaroslow, Poland

Baran, Boris

1897

Frankfurt/Main, Germ.

Barkan, Yaakov Benzion

1900

Gargzdai, Lithuania

Barnbojm, Lippe

1885

Lutzk, Poland

Bas, Yosef

1911

Lodz, Poland

Bass, Moshe

Bialystok, Poland

Basch, Arnold

1913

Zagreb, Croatia

Baum, Max Elimelekh

1894

Cologne, Germany

Baum, Shalom

1900

Komorow, Poland

Bay, Salomon

Lodz, Poland

Beem, David

1925

Leeuwarden, Holland

Beilin, Yakov

1878

Minsk, Belorus

Vyunische, Ukraine, 1941
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Auschwitz, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Ismail, Romania, 1941
Radziwillow, Poland, 1942
1942

Kowno, Lithuania
Lutzk, Poland, 1942
Lodz, Poland, 1942
Poland, 1943
Jasenovac, Croatia, 1945
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Belzyce, Poland, 1942
Lodz, Poland, 1940
Central Europe, 1945
Minsk, Belorus, 1941

Bejarano,

Saarbruecken, Germ.

Auschwitz, Poland

Bekerman, Eliezer Lipkin

1890

Koluszki, Poland

Koluszki, Poland, 1942

Belferman, Avraham

1898

Briceva, Romania

Obodovka, Ukraine, 1941

Belkin, Lazar Moshe

1870

Rechitsa, Belorus

Uzbekistan Russia, 1942

Belogorsky, Gershko

1892

Sremska, Yugoslavia

Sremska, Yugoslavia

Ben Aizik, Moshe

1900

Pozarski, Poland

Pozarski, Poland, 1942

Bendzel, Michael David

1896

Bydguscz, Poland

Steineck, Poland, 1942

Benis, Wolf

1898

Lukow, Poland

Szumsk, Poland

Ben Mordekhai, Yankel

1890

Pozarski, Poland

Pozarski, Poland, 1942

Ben Mordekhai, Yoineh

1900

Pozarski, Poland

Pozarski, Poland, 1942

Ben Tzion, Yitzkhak

1872

Bitola, Yugoslavia

Treblinka, Poland, 1943

Ber, Avraham Yehoshua

1879

Trisk, Poland

Trisk, Poland, 1943

Berakha, Moshe

1871

Yugoslavia

Nish, Serbia

Berger,

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Berger, Karlo

1902

Sombor, Yugoslavia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Berger, Lajos

1886

Bercel, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Berger, Meir

1872

Rawa, Poland

Belzyce, Poland, 1943

Berger, Moshe Yehuda

1901

Tyszowce, Poland

Lvov, Poland

Berger, Shlomo

1870

Pozarski, Poland

Pozarski, Poland, 1942

Berger, Yehuda Moshe

1904

Ukraine

Berglas, Tzvi

1885

Dombrowa, Poland

Beringoltz, Khaim

Kiev, Ukraine

Babi Yar, Ukraine, 1941

Berinhalt, Avraham Yitzkhak

1887

Lutzk, Poland

Lutzk, Poland, 1944

Berkman, Shmuel

1891

Starobin, Belorus

Starobin, Belorus, 1941

Berkovitz, Leib

1895

Belgium

Berkovitz, Moshe Aharon

1896

Cardo, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Berlinger, Arthur

1889

Schweinfurt, Bavaria

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Berman, Pinkhas Meir

1868

Wielun, Poland

Wielun, Poland, 1941

Berman, Volf

1896

Zgurita, Bessarabia

Bacseni, Bessarabia, 1941

Berman, Yeshayahu

1905

Bereza, Poland

Bronogura, Poland

Bernath, Avraham

1883

Nagy Banya, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland

Bernshtein, Asher

Tarnopol, Poland

Tarnopol, Poland, 1941

Bernstein, Yaakov Yitzkhak

1887

Kasha, Czechoslovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Bess, Yehoshua Hershel

Lublin, Poland

Bialy, Eliyahu

1902

Wlodawa, Poland

Sobibor, Poland, 1942

Bikhstein, Yitzkhak

1870

Rowne, Poland

Rowne, Poland, 1942

Bilitzer, Amram

1912

Hungary

Bilitzer, Erno-Amram Yishai

1904

Budapest, Hungary

Ukraine, 1943

Bilitzer, Jeno

1903

Budapest, Hungary

Russia

Bilitzer, Jeno Yoav

1870

Debrecen, Hungary

Hillersleben, Germany, 1945

Bilitzer, Mor

1890

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Bilitzer, Moshe David

1876

Eger, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Bindefeld, Nachman Nathan

1906

Paris, France

1944

Birman, Shalom

1898

Kishinev, Bessarabia

Birnbaum, Moshe

1888

Sombor, Yugoslavia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Birnbaum, Mordekhai

1886

Riga, Latvia

Riga, Latvia, 1942

Birnbaum, Samuel

1920

Berlin, Germany

Sobibor, Poland, 1945

Bitenski, Josef Gershon

Chomsk, Poland

Bitenski, Sender Yaakov

Chomsk, Poland

Blan, Gustav

1883

Jihlava, Czech.

Blanes, Jacob David Yaakov

1877

Amsterdam, Holland

Blass, Wolf

1889

Chzanow, Poland

Blasz, Bela-Baruch Avraham

1916

Tapolca, Slovakia

Blasz, Shmuel

Eger, Hungary

Blau, Shmuel

Gyergyoszentmiklos.Rom.

Blaufelder, Ignatz

1870

Banska, Czechoslovakia

Bloch, Abraham

Schmieheim, Germany

Bloch, Albert

1893

Muttershotz, France

Blumenfeld, Moshe

Krakow, Poland

Blumenfeld, Yosef

1910

Cluj, Romania

Borkhovich, Eliezer

1885

Ciechanow, Poland

Borenstein, Zvi

Warsaw, Poland

Bornstein, Yoel

1890

Paris, France

Bornsztain, Leib

1914

Lodz, Poland

Borodkin, Aharon Yehuda

1876

Berlin, Germany

Borstein, Chaim-Boruch

Proshnitz, Poland

Bram, Shlomo Barukh

1900

Poland

Bramson, Jacob

1915

Amsterdam, Holland

Brand, Zeev

1878

Otaci, Bessarabia

Brandsdorfer Visman, Yitzkhak 1898

Subotica, Yugoslavia

Braun, David

1910

Warsaw, Poland

Braun, Shmuel Pinchas

1874

Balagsaryamat, Hung.

Bravmann, Beniamin

1875

Bruchsal, Germany

Bril, Natan

1880

Brno, Moravia

Bronshtein, Mordekhai

1919

Pressburg, Slovakia

Bublik, Shmuel

1865

Grodno, Poland

Buchsbaum, Michael

Poland

Bukhshpan Keller, Khaim

1907

Rotterdam, Holland

Bueno, Yaakov

1890

Saloniki, Macedonia

Byzdrowski, Mordekhai

Warsaw, Poland

Lizmannstadt, Poland, 1942
Westerbrook, Holland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Debrecen, Hungary, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942
Bavaria

Auschwitz, Poland
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942
Warsaw, Poland

Poland, 1943
Lodz, Poland, 1942
Makov-Mazovietz, P., 1939
Kolo, Poland, 1942
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Otaci, Bessarabia, 1941
Hungary, 1944
Warsaw, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
1940

Treblinka, Poland, 1942
Grodno, Poland, 1942
Bergen-Belsen, Germany
1943

Warsaw, Poland, 1939

Cahn, Siegmund

Caler, Chuny

Cauveren, Jacob

Celadnitzki, Yekhiel

Cervinski, Aron- Josef

Chamenes, Khaim Yisrael

Charan, Yosef

Chasan Daum, Hermann

Chasanovich, Moshe

Chazan, Wolf

Cheifetz, Avraham Mikhael

1888 Hamburg, Germany

Pasechna, Poland
1919 Hasselt, Belgium
1896 Kaluszyn, Poland

Kishinev, Bessarabia
1884 Siedliszcze, Poland
1911 Lodz, Poland
1899 Miroslav, Moravia

Konstantinow, Poland
1890 Pozarsky, Poland

Sirvintai, Lithuania

Auschwitz, Poland
Nadworna, Poland
Mathausen, Austria, 1941
Treblinka, Poland, 1942
Transnistria, Roumania, 1941

1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Britany, Ukraine
Treblinka, Poland, 1943
Pozarsky, Poland, 1942
Vilna, Lithuania

Chibel, Benzion

1894

Wyszkow, Poland

Wyszkow, Poland

Cholawski, Shalom

1910

Nieswiez, Poland

Nieswiez, Poland, 1942

Chrzelitzer, Bernhard Ralph

1902

Berlin, Germany

Berlin, Germany, 1944

Citrinarz, Yehuda

1890

Lutzk, Poland

Lutzk, Poland, 1943

Colewa, Khaim

1907

Czestochow, Poland

Buchenwald, Germany, 1945

Coen, Eugenio

1880

Padova, Italy

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Cohen Isaac

1917

Watergraafsmeer, HoII

. Limburg, Holland, 1945

Cohen, Izak

1920

Leiden, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Cohen, Philip

1918

Amsterdam, Holland

1943

Cohen, Yosef

1893

Zutphen Holland

Poland, 1944

Cohn, Artur

1924

Krakow, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Cohn, Julius

1904

Hamburg, Germany

Lodz, Poland, 1942

Cuker, Symcha

1911

Tomaszow, Poland

Tomaszow, Poland, 1942

Cukier, Simcha

1891

Lodz, Poland

Treblinka, Poland,

Cwilich, Yosef Ber

1874

Rozprza, Poland

Piotrikow, Poland, 1942

Cymerman, Dr. Chaim

Lublin, Poland

Cypkus, Mordekhai Yehoshua

1892

Kishinev, Bessarabia

Kishinev, Bessarabia, 1942

Cytrinyarz, Yehuda

1897

Lutzk, Poland

Lutzk, Poland

D

Danhirsh, Morris

Daniel, Mikhael

Dankowski, Eliyahu Tzvi

Danziger, Samuel

Davidavitch, Morris

Davidson, David

Dawidowitz, Yitzkhak Shmuel

Dawidowicz, Avraham Tzvi

Dawidowski, Eliezer

De Goede, Abraham

De Haan, Abraham

De Hond, Aaron

De Jong, Gerardus

De Jong, Shlomo

De Leeuw, Arthur

De Lieme, Herman Isidor

De Lieme, Meijer

De Lieme, Mozes

De Metz, Moos

Denenberg, Moshe Barukh

Denneboom, Ezra

Deskal, Meir

Deskal, Menakhem

Deutsch, Eliezer Lajos

Deutsch, Voitech

De Vries, Max

Hrushowice, Poland
Schlochau, Germany
Gniezmo, Poland
Neustadt, Germany
Lodz, Poland
Zwolle, Holland
Lodz, Poland
Warsaw, Poland
Czartorysk, Poland
Amsterdam, Holland
Amsterdam, Holland
Amsterdam, Holland
Emmen, Holland
Amsterdam, Holland
Amsterdam, Holland
Hertogenbosch,HoIIand
Amsterdam, Holland
Amsterdam, Holland
Zutphen, Holland
Poland

Veendam, Holland
Satmar, Romania
Czenger, Hungary
Nancy, France
Nitra, Czechoslovakia
Amsterdam, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

1940

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Ludz, Poland, 1942
Warsaw, Poland
Czartorysk, Poland, 1942
Poland, 1944
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Sarny, Poland, 1942
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Auschwitz, Poland
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Sobibor, Poland, 1943

De Vries, Nico

1919

Amsterdam, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

De Wit, Herman

1928

Gravenhage, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

De Wolf, Avraham

1878

Alkmaar, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

De Zoete, Jacob

1923

Purmerend, Holland

Bergen-Belsen, Germ., 1945

Diamant, Yisrael

Lodz, Poland

Diner, Meir

1898

Kowel, Poland

Risha, Poland, 1945

Dligach, Yoel

1870

Trembowla, Poland

Belzec, Poland, 1942

Dobray, Zigmund

1900

Odessa, Ukraine

Kharkov, Ukraine, 1941

Dobrowska, Berl

1900

Grodno, Poland

Majdanek, Poland, 1941

Doft, Tzvi Hersh

Paris, France

Auschwitz, Poland

Doft, Yehoshua

1880

Bilke, Czechoslovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Doich, Hersh

1924

Ternovo, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Dolgopolak, Aizig

1891

Kowel, Poland

Kowel, Poland, 1942

Drukker, Joseph

1891

Amsterdam, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Dub, Shloima

1881

Odessa. Ukraine

Odessa, Ukraine, 1941

Duft, Herman

1905

Paris, France

Duitz, Herman

1913

Amsterdam, Holland

Central Europe,1944

Duizend, Gabriel

1925

Amsterdam, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Duizend, Joseph

1920

Amsterdam, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Dunaevsky, Aron

1884

Zvenigorodka, Ukraine

Durmashkin, Akiva

Vilna, Lithuania

Ponary, Lithuania, 1942

Durmashkin, Victor

1896

Radom, Poland

Dym, David

Antwerp, Belgium

Dzinkovitz, Aizek

1893

Dobeik, Lithuania

Dobeik, Lithuania, 1942

E

Edelstein, Barukh

1895

Krakow, Poland

Krakow, Poland

Einhorn, Moshe

Nagybarca, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Eisenberger, Benjamin

1891

Nyiregyhaza, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Eisenstadt, David

1890

Warsaw, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Eisikowitz, Isaac

Eizental, Avraham Khaim
Eliezer, Moshe
Eliezer the Cantor
Ellenbogen, Mor
Emanuel, Reuven
Engelberg, Aharon Adolph
Engelman, Volf
Engelshtein, Moshe Asher Zeli
Englander, Shmuel
Epshtein, Yisrael Ber
Ergas, Shabtai
Erlikh, Khaim Leib
Erlikhman, Moshe Velvel
Ernfeld, Yitzkhak

Britt, Czechoslovakia Austria, 1944
1903 Nyiregyhaza, Hungary Rus, Romania, 1943

Dorohoi, Romania Kapustyani, Ukraine

Nis, Yugoslavia

Czyzewo, Poland Schulzborge, Poland, 1941

1879 Gyoma, Hungary
1865 Veria, Macedonia
1868 Dunafoldvar, Hungary

Komiaty, Czech.
y 1903 Warsaw, Poland

Amsterdam, Holland

•itz

Poland,
Poland

I'M 1

/itz

Poland,

1945

Mathausen, Austria, 1945

1880

Zdzieciol, Poland

Zdzieciol, Poland

1861

Treblinka, Poland, 1943

1892

Myslowice, Poland

1872

Rowne, Poland

Rowne, Poland

1905

Trnava, Czechoslovakia

Eschwege, Natan
Eschwege, Simon

Ezrovitz, Shimon

1888 Malsch/Karlsruhe, Ger. Auschwitz, Poland
1879 Frankfurt, Germany Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Saloniki, Macedonia Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

1889 Nagysurany, Czech. Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Fainer, Benya

Tomashpol, Ukraine

Tomashpol, Ukraine, 1941

Farbstein, Bunim

1913

Budapest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Faibiscz, Yisrael

Lvov, Poland

Faintukh, Benzion

1895

Jassy, Moldavia

Jassy, Moldavia, 1941

Falperin, Tuvia

1890

Kossow, Poland

Farkash, Yitzkhak Hersh

1890

Urmin, Slovakia

Farbstein, Bunim

Bialystok, Poland

Fastag, Azriel David

Warsaw, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Fater, Shmuel Itzhak

1888

Mazowiecki, Poland

Warsaw, Poland, 1942

Feierman, Shmuel

Sosnowiec, Poland

Feigenbaum, Yekhiel

1908

Filesti, Moldavia

Transnistria, Ukraine, 1941

Fein, Yitzkhak Salomon

1885

Senta, Yugoslavia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Fein, Zeev

1880

Trnava, Slovakia

1942

Felberbaum, Yehoshua

1895

Nagachev, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland

Feldman, Mordekhai

1884

Pressburg, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Feldmann, Hugo Hirsch

1882

Munich, Bavaria

Lodz, Poland, 1942

Feldshtein, Matus

1879

Kiev, Ukraine

1942

Feldshtein, Shimon

1922

Bielsko, Poland

Lvov, Poland, 1942

Feliks, Mendel

Czechoslovakia

Felman, Khaim Leibish

Suchedniov, Poland

1043

Fershtendig, Zeev Volf

Brzozov, Poland

Fershtand, Moshe

Jano Lubelski, Poland

1942

Fidan, Yaakov

Kishinev, Bessarabia

Filipovitz, Shmuel

Szentes, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland

Filipovitz, Shmuel

1882

Suwalki, Poland

Lublin, Poland, 1942

Fingerhut, Khaim

1891

Budapest, Hungary

Mathausen, Austria

Fingerhut, Shlomo

1904

Ruma, Yugoslavia

Ruma, Yugoslavia

Finkelshtein, Eliezer

Riga, Latvia

Finkelstein, Moshe Meir

1865

Bukowskow, Poland

Belzec, Poland

Firanco, Shlomo

1885

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland, 1942

First, Moshe

1896

Tarnopol, Poland

Fischer, Lipot

1882

Pestszenter, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Fishbein, Meir

1890

Dabrowica, Poland

Sarny, Poland, 1942

Fishbein, Mordekhai Arie Leib 1895

Jassy, Moldavia

Fishel, Avraham

Czenstochov, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Fisher, Avraham

1871

Dobno, Poland

Dobno, Poland, 1941

Fisher, Shimon

1880

Krakow, Poland

Staszow, Poland, 1942

Fishgrund, Yaakov

1885

Krakow, Poland

Krakow, Poland

Fisman, Meir

1884

Turov, Belorus

Turov, Belorus, 1941

Fishman, Yehoshua

Cesky Tesin, Moravia

Fizler, Gideon

Budapest, Hungary

1944

Flaks, Yehoshua

1892

Tyszowce, Poland

Zamoshch, Poland, 1942

Fleischmann, Mihaily

1899

Brno, Moravia

Fleisher, Leib Hersh

1898

Kobryn, Poland

Slonim, Poland, 1943

Fleshner, Leibish

1885

Budzano, Poland

1942

Fleishmakher, Shaya

1894

Kiev, Ukraine

Babi Yar, Ukraine, 1941

Fleishman, Jonasz

1903

Auschwitz, Poland

Flonder, Moshe

1908

Wilno, Poland

Wolozin, Poland, 1942

Fogler, Mordekhai Yishai

1863

Kiskoros, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Fogler, Yehoshua Gimpel

1862

Kiskoros, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Franck, Jankele

1916

Crasna, Romania

Russia, 1942

Frantz, Mikhael

1901

Mezohuta, Czech.

Ukraine, 1944

Fredman, Henrich

1880

Ilk, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Freize, Khaim Yitzkhak

1868

Nowy Sacz, Poland

Nowy Sacz, Poland

Frenkel, Emanuel

1896

Vienna, Austria

Liepaja, Latvia, 1943

Frenkel, Shmuel

1910

Sopron, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1945

Frenkel, Zeev

Salva, Romania

Auschwiz, Poland

Fridja, Isaak

1915

Utrecht, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Fridman, Moshe

1903

Salgotarjan, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Fridman, Pinkhas Yaakov

1890

Bialystok, Poland

Bialystok, Poland, 1943

Fridman, Shlomo

1899

Brod, Czechoslovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Friedland, Hirsh

1905

Riga, Latvia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Friedman, Itche Yitzkhak

Ungvar, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland

Friedman, Moshe

1902

Satoralya Ujhely, Hung

. Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Friedman, Yaakov Yehuda

1893

Terscina, Czech.

Poland

Friedmann, Armin

1896

Kety, Yugoslavia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Friedman, Zalman

Huszt, Czechoslovakia

Auschwitz, poland, 1942

Friedmann, Hermann

Ada, Yugoslavia

Friedner, Barukh

1886

Frankfurt amMain, Ger.

Frimer, Yekutiel

1877

Laszczow, Poland

Laszczow, Poland, 1942

Frister, Moshe

1899

Jassy, Moldavia

Frohman, Mendel

Pilica, Poland

Pilica, Poland, 1942

Froind, Beniamin

1910

Breslau, Germany

Warsaw, Poland, 1942

Frukhter, Moshe

1898

Transylvania, Romania

Moldavia, Romania, 1941

Fuchs, Mordekhai Naftali

1887

Trnava, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland

Fuerst, Eliezer

Dukla, Poland

Belzec, Poland, 1942

Furman, Moshe

Krasnik, Poland

Fusman, Moshe

Czernowitz, Bukovina

Futerman, Avraham

Pinsk, Belorus

G

Galewski, Shaul

1913

Berlin, Germany

Warsaw, Poland, 1941

Galman, Rafael

Gluboki, Poland, 1942

Gamer, David

1902

Rowne, Poland

Rowne, Poland

Ganich, Moshe

Orla, Poland

Gans, Benjamin

1918

Amsterdam, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Gantz, Moshe

1900

Galati, Moldavia

Murafa, Ukraine, 1945

Gantz, Shmuel

1887

Tiacewo, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland

Ganz, Naftali

1912

Luky, Slovakia

Germany

Gatovski, Moishe

1865

Minsk, Belorus

Minsk, Belorus, 1942

Gazan, Jozef

1923

Amsterdam, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Gelbard, Arye Leib

1889

Mistelbach, Austria

Sabac, Yugoslavia, 1941

Gelbman, Yisrael

1860

Novi Knezevac, Yugos

Jabuka Pancevo, Yugos., 1941

Gelb trunk, Eliyahu Yitzkhak

Falenitsa, Poland

Warsaw, Poland, 1941

Geler, Aizik

Lipcani, Bessarabia

Transnistria, Ukraine

Geler, Mikhael

1918

Lipcani, Bessarabia

Transnistria, Ukraine

Genger, Moshe

Krakow, Poland

Krakow, Poland, 1942

Gershon, Yitzkhak

Ostrava, Moravia

Russia

Gershtein, Hersh

1883

Korosten, Ukraine

Korosten, Ukraine, 1941

Gerstein, Yaakov Yosef

Yedenitzy, Romania

Gevirtzman, Yefim

Kovel, Poland

Gildberg, Shlomo

1882

Biala Rawska, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Gildin, Efraim

Rowne, Poland

Rowne, Poland

Giniunski, Gidaliahu

1909

Ejsziszak, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Ginsburg, Aharon

1889

Vyazyn, Poland

Vyazyn, Poland, 1942

Gitman, Iosif

1875

Leningrad, Russia

Leningrad, Russia, 1942

Gladshtein, Elkuna

1865

Lipcani, Bessarabia

Glanz, Isser

1890

Budapest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Glatshtein, Yosef

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

Glatzer, Velvl

1868

Medzhibozh, Ukraine

Medzhibozh, Ukraine, 1942

Glazer, Josef

1906

Subotica, Yugoslavia

Russia

Glazer, Khanan

Vilna, Lithuania

Glazer, Khaim Shlomo

Borszczow, Poland

Glazer, Mordekhai Tzvi

Buchenwald, Germany, 1942

Glazman, Dovid

1901

Warsaw, Poland

Poland, 1942

Gleizer, Chaim

1886

Soroca, Bessarabia

Soroca, Bessarabia

Glik Avraham, Levi Yitzkhak

1916

Prague, Bohemia

Germany, 1944

Gliklikh, Shmuel David

1884

Hajdunasz, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Glutzksmann, Adolph

Wadowice, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland

Godinger, Yisrael

1914

Volove, Czechoslovakia

Gold, Nakhum Yisrael

1880

Hungary

Goldberg, Dov

1892

Mielnica, Poland

Mielnica, Poland, 1942

Goldberg, Moische

1895

Warsaw, Poland

Treblinka, Poland

Goldberg, Moshe

1887

Warsaw, Poland

Treblinka, Poland

Goldberg, Moshe Noakh

1888

Zirardow, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

Goldberg, Yitzkhak

1900

Wilejka, Poland

Wilejka, Poland, 1941

Goldberger, Khaim

1871

Tiszaroff, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Goldenberg, Kuna

Yurkovka, Ukraine

Yurkovka, Ukraine, 1941

Goldenberg, Pinkhas

1875

Zlatopol, Ukraine

1941

Goldenberg, Yaakov Yisrael

1882

Krakow, Poland

Poland

Goldman, Ignatz

Vienna, Austria

Goldman, Pinkhas

1907

Brilon, Germany

Warsaw, Poland, 1941

Goldman, Yaakov

1865

Brzezany, Poland

Brzezany, Poland, 1942

Goldring, Mor

Kecel, Hungary

Ukraine, 1945

Goldschlager, Beniamin

1883

Belzyce, Poland

Belzyce, Poland, 1942

Goldshmidt, Akhiezer

Uscilug, Poland

Uscilug, Poland

Goldstein, Adolf

1890

Berettyoujfalu, Hung.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Goldstein, Jakub

Warsaw, Poland

Goldwasser, Aharon

Lodz, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Goltzman, David

Warcovicze, Poland

Warcovicze, Poland, 1942

Gorokhovsky-Shneerson, Mei

Odessa, Ukraine

Odessa, Ukraine

Goss, Shaul

Warsaw, Poland

Gossmann, Ismar

1887

Gleiwitz, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Gotlib, Menahem Emanuel

Zalau, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Gotlib,

Gotlib, Moshe Efraim

1878

Lublin, Poland

Gotlib, Shlomo

1890

Lvov, Poland

Lvov, Poland, 1942

Gotlib, Yehoshua

1894

Banovce, Slovakia

1942

Gotlib, Yehoshua Eliezer

1882

Lublin, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Gotlieb, Moshe Efraim

1880

Nowy Sacz, Poland

Nowy Sacz, Poland, 1942

Gotloib, Moshe

1885

Odessa, Ukraine, 1942

Gotovizna, Mordekhai

Zwolen, Poland

Zwolen, Poland, 1942

Gotshal, Andor

1907

Banska, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Govetz, Michel

Amsterdam, Holland

Grabowski, Yosef

1914

Gleiwitz, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Grad, Yosef

1895

Drohobycz, Poland

Granat, Asher Tzvi

1879

Raciaz, Poland

Dratow, Poland, 1941

Grauer, Shlomo

1889

Warsaw, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Greis, Barukh

Drohobycz, Poland

Greiya, Moshe

Terebovlyz, Ukraine

Terebovlyz, Ukraine, 1941

Grin, Leib

1890

Stanislaw, Poland

Stanislaw, Poland, 1943

Grin, Zalman

1894

Krakow, Poland

Krakow, Poland

Grinbal, Elimelekh Shimon

Ludomir, Poland

Grinbaum, Avraham

1890

Banska, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Grinberg, Moshe

Balti, Romania

Grinberg, Natan

1880

Grojec, Poland

Grinblat, Benzion

1879

Falesi, Bessarabia

Bessarabia, Romania, 1941

Gringlas, Yoel

1875

Biala D'lita, Poland

Biala Podlaska, Poland

Grinhut, Tibor

Hungary

1944

Grinshtein, David

Tabor, Bohemia

Grinvald, Izidor

1904

Soroksar, Hungary

Gros, Khaim

1885

Moraska Ostrava, Cz.

Theresienstadt, Czech., 1943

Gosman, Khaim

1880

Trencin, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Grobsztein, Yaakov

1895

Lutzk, Poland

Groenstad, Eleazar

1925

Amsterdam, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Groisman, Shaye

Kishinev, Bessarabia

Grosman, Yosef

1909

Felsobisztra, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Gros,

Uhlja, Czechoslovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Gros, Hersh

1896

Notkanizan, Hungary

Notkanizan, Hungary, 1943

Grosman, Bunem Simkha

Lipno, Poland

Treblinka, Poland

Grosman, Khaim

1880

Trencin, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Grosman, Yosef

1909

Felsobisztra, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Gross, Izidor
Gross, Khaim
Gross, Khaim Yehuda
Gross, Sigi
Grosser, Shmuel
Gross Taub, Shimshon
Grosz, Aleksander Sandor
Grosz, Vilmosh Zev
Grosz, Zeev Beniamin
Grubin, Aharon
Gruen, Lipa
Gruenfeld, Yekutiel
Gruenwald, Arthur
Gruenwald, Izidor
Grubin, Aharon
Grun, Faivel
Grun, Reuven
Grunberger, Barukh
Gugik.VolfLeib
Gurevitz, Avraham
Gurfinkel, Avraham
Gurfinkel, Levi
Gurfinkel, Moshe
Gurman, Gedalyah
Gutman, Mendel
Gutverk, Moshe
Gutvirt, Pinkhas
Gwillmann, Hermann

H

Haas, Avraham
Haas, Moshe
Haber, Yaakov
Hafner, Luzer
Hafner, Yitzkhak
Haaker, Isak
Halbershtat, Tzvi
Halmos, Mor
Halperin, Yitzkhak
Halpern, Meir
Halpern, Shalom
Halpern, Yitzkhak
Harar, Zisha

Harendorf, Moshe Pinkhas
Hartman, Khaim Zev
Hashochet, Yoel
Hechter, Shmuel

1884
1896
1895
1912

Karlovac, Yugoslavia
5 Moravska Ostrava, Cz.

Aszod, Hungary
9

Tarnow, Poland
8 Zadne, Czechoslovakia

5 Vac, Hungary
Paks, Hungary

Puck, Poland

1 Kerch, Russia

Neresnica, Czech.

6 Sobrance, Czech.

2 Vienna, Austria

4 Koka, Hungary

1 Kerch, Russia

5 Ujhely, Slovakia

1 Bitola, Yugoslavia

Budszent Mihaly, Hung

Czechoslovakia

4

7 Secureni, Bessarabia

8 Briceni, Bessarabia

6 NovogradVolynski,Ukr
Czernowitz, Bukovina
Zakopane, Poland
Warsaw, Poland
Lvov, Poland

Rymanow, Poland
Jaroslow, Poland
Budapest, Hungary
Zwolin, Poland
Warsaw, Poland
Amsterdam, Holland
Zaklikow, Poland
Dresden, Germany

Yugoslavia, 1942
Theresienstadt, Czech., 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Tarnow, Poland, 1941
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Valdager, Bavaria, 1945
Germany, 1945
Kerch, Russia, 1941
Mathausen, Austria
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Auschwitz, Poland

1944
Kerch, Russia, 1941
Lublin, Polnad, 1942

1943
Ukraine, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Riga, Latvia, 1941
Secureni, Bessarabia, 1942
Ataki, Bessarabia, 1941
NovogradVolynski, Ukr., 1941
Czernowitz, Bukovina, 1941

Warsaw, Poland

Dachau, Germany, 1939

Rymanow, Poland
Jaroslaw, Poland, 1942

Warsaw, Poland
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Belzec, Poland, 1942
Poland, 1944

Lvov, Poland 1942

Konstanz, Germany Auschwitz, Poland
Zamosc, Poland
Lvov, Poland

Vienna, Austria Auschwitz, Poland

Mezobereny, Hungary Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Stepan, Poland Karatchobye, Poland, 1942

Pomorzany, Poland

163

Heertjes, Simon

1919

Amsterdam, Holland

Heida, Yehuda

1893

Bedzin, Poland

Heidenfeld, Yisaskhar Dov

1876

Rybnick, Germany

Heijmans, David

1923

Groenlo, Holland

Heilbraun, Moritz Moshe

Cadca, Slovakia

Heilbraun, Samuel

1885

Leva, Slovakia

Heilbrun, Moshe

1882

Levice, Czech.

Heilbrun, Shmuel

1887

Catcau, Romania

Hekker, Aharon

Kowno, Lithuania

Helfgott, Kalman

Beodra, Yugoslavia

Helfman, Yosef

1873

Oswiecim, Poland

Helman, Avraham

1900

Berdichev, Ukraine

Helman, Yitzkhak

1871

Prievidza, Slovakia

Helmann, Abram

1892

Nikolsburg, Moravia

Hendel,

1883

Zagreb, Yugoslavia

Herczl, Moshe Khaim

1895

Uszod, Hungary

Herer, Mendel Menakhem

Sighet, Romania

Herer, Zishe

1885

Lvov, Poland

Herman, Yosef

1910

Brno, Moravia

Hershaft, Hillel

Tarnopol, Poland

Hershenfus, Shimon

Warsaw, Poland

Hershkovitz, Izidor

Vinkovci, Yugoslavia

Hershkovitz, Moshe

Stara Pazova, Yugos.

Hershkovitz, Yitzkhak

1870

Romania

Hershman, Zakharia

1900

Lublin, Poland

Herskovitz, David

1880

Dombovar, Hungary

Herskovitz, Samuel

1883

Hannover, Germany

Herskovitz, Shlomo Shabtai

1882

Kezmerok, Slovakia

Hertzberg, Yosef Hillel

Dresden, Germany

Hertzman, Yisrael

Palanga, Lithuania

Herzl, Yosef Hersh

Tarnobrzeg, Poland

Herzler, Josef

1859

Djakovo, Yugoslavia

Herzstein, Herbert

1923

Nuttlar, Germany

Herzog, Asher

1892

Rzesow, Poland

Hirsch, Isidor

Maerkisch, Germany

Hochman, Hershel

1885

Stepan, Poland

Hofman, Azriel

Szmulewizna, Poland

Hofman, David

1917

Nagyszolos, Romania

Hoiker, Ziskind Alexander

Wloclawek, Poland

Holtzman, Beniamin

1887

Fuerth, Bavaria

Horer, Mendel

1877

Hornshtein, Yaakov Dov-Ber

1905

Budapest, Hungary

Horovitz, Berisch

1870

Visau, Romania

Horovitz, Leiser

1867

Buczacz, Poland

Horovitz, Noakh

1907

Budapest, Hungary

Horovitz, Yosef

1890

Sighet, Romania

Hosberg, Izyk

1873

Bolechow, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Zaglebie, Poland , 1942
Theresienstadt, Czech., 1942
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1941
Auschwitz, Poland
Auschwitz, Poland

Belgrade, Yugoslavia, 1941
Auschwitz, Poland
Berdichev, Ukraine, 1942
1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Birkenau, Poland, 1944
Auschwitz, 1944
Lvov, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Tarnopol, Poland
Poland

Jasenovac, Yugoslavia, 1942
, Yugos., 1942

Treblinka, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Birkenau, Poland, 1944
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Lublin, Poland
Linkova, Lithuania, 1941
Siberia, Russia, 1943

Mathausen, Austria, 1941

Belzec, Poland, 1942

Poland

Karatchobye, Poland, 1942

Warsaw, Poland, 1942

Budapest, Hungary, 1943

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, 1941
Germany, 1945
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Sobibor, Poland
Nagycenk, Hungary, 1945
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Bolechov, Poland, 1942

Hutt, Abraham

Wielun, Poland

Iamnik, Shmuel

1872

Pszeczek, Poland

Chelmno, Poland, 1942

Idelsohn, Koifman Yidel

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

Idesis, Levi

1885

Rowne, Poland

Rowne, Poland, 1941

IeIinek,Gustav

1880

Lodz, Poland

Iliard, Meir

1924

Raciaz, Poland

Plonsk, Poland, 1942

Ilovitz, Eliyahu

1907

Berettyoujfalu, Hung.

Kiev, Ukraine, 1943

Ilovitz, Eliyahu Alia

1909

Kunmadaras, Hungary

Mathausen, Austria, 1944

Ilovitz, Zvi Meir

1886

Miskolc, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Ilyovitz, Erno Eli

1908

Kundamaras, Hungary

Ilyovitz, Hersh Mayer

1878

Berettyoujfallu, Hung.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Iordan, Pesakh

Germany

Theresienstadt, Cz., 1941

Ioskovitz, Shlomo Menakhem

1885

Wilno, Poland

Wilno, Poland

Ires, David

1906

Koeln, Germany

Litzmannstadt, Poland, 1941

Irespira, David Anschel

1890

Koeln, Germany

Lodz, Poland

Iritzer, David

1890

Vienna, Austria

Maidanek, Poland

Iritzer, Isidor

Vienna, Austria

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Iritzer, Shlomo

1901

Zilina, Slovakia

Auschwitz, 1944

Isak, Ezra

Belgium

1942

Itkovitz, Shaia Pesakh

Itzkovitz, Slomo Tzvi Hirsh

1890

Jassi, Romania

Iuftaru, Yosef Efraim

1925

Dorohoi, Moldavia

Dorohoi, Moldavia, 1940

Izbitzki Avraham Lemel

1902

Janowiec, Poland

Chelmno, Poland

jackel, Siegmund

1877

Kassel, Germany

Theresienstadt, Cz.

, 1943

Jacob, Joseph

1868

Ludwigshafen, Bavaria

1942

Jacobowitz, Menachem

Antwerp, Belgium

1942

Jacobs, Frits

1917

Zandvoort, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland,

1943

Jacobs, Uri

1922

Hengelo, Holland

Mathausen, Austria, 1941

Jaffe, Max Mordekhai

1885

Leipzig, Germany

Poland, 1942

Jeger, Natan

Radom, Poland

Jellinek, Siegmund

1857

Oberhallabrunn, Aust.

Theresienstadt, Cz.

, 1943

Joffe, Yaakov

1904

Riga, Latvia

Riga, Latvia, 1941

Jospe, Georg

1885

Berlin, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland,

1943

Just, Joshua

1880

Brzozow, Poland

1942

K

Kabili, Avraham
Kachka, Gershon
Kaczka, Gerszon
Kaczka, Josef

Kabala, Macedonia Danube River, 1943

Zemun, Yugoslavia Jasenovac, Yugoslavia

Kalisz, Poland Czechoslovakia

Kalisz, Poland Debrecen, Hungary

Kagan, Shimon

1882

Krzemieniec, Poland

1942

Kagan, Yitzkhak

1890

Zdzieciol, Poland

Zdzieciol, Poland, 1941

Kahana, Herman

1888

Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Kahn, Karl

1890

Heilbronn, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland

Kahn, Lavoslav

Zagreb, Croatia

Zagreb, Croatia, 1941

Kalinski, Yitzkhak

1870

Orgeyev, Bessarabia

Orgeyev, Bessarabia, 1941

Kaller, Yitzkhak Peretz

1894

Tarnow, Poland

Tarnow, Poland, 1943

Kallmann, Max

1896

Berlin, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Kalmanovitz, Betzalel

Krakiai, Lithuania

Kamin, Menashe

1905

Rozyszcze, Poland

Rozyszcze, Poland

Kaminski, Khanina

Naszelsk, Poland

Majdanek, Poland

Kamirunski, Yitzkhak

1899

Ponevezh, Lithuania

Ponevezh, Lithuania, 1941

Katchener, Yossele

Ger, Poland

Poland, 1942

Kanterovitz, Yitzkhak

1880

Danzig, Poland

Danzig, Poland, 1939

Kantor, Shmuel

1896

Czernowitz, Bukovina

Transnistria, Ukraine

Kantorovitz, Zalman

1883

Suwalki, Poland

Dereczyn, Poland, 1942

Kaplan, Beniamin

Bereznik, Russia

Kaplan, Shimon

Piesk, Poland

Piesk, Poland

Kaplan, Tzvi Hirsh

1870

Radviliskis, Lithuania

1942

Kaplun, Aizik Khaim

1880

Khmelnik, Ukraine

Khmelnik, Ukraine, 1941

Kaprow, Yaakov

Sokolovka, Ukraine

Sokolovka, Ukraine

Karocher, Yehezkel

Sucha Wola, Poland

Karpel, Mordekhai

1876

Rowne, Poland

Rowne, Poland

Karpfen, Khaim Yaakov

1895

Patohaza, Romania

Germany, 1945

Karpnik, Yosef

1887

Szedlec, Poland

Szedlec, Poland, 1939

Kasorla, Salamon

1879

Bitolj, Serbia

Treblinka, Poland, 1943

Kater, Jacob

1919

Hilversum, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Kats, Barukh

Czernowitz, Bukovina

Transnistria, Ukraine, 1941

Katz, Barukh

1915

1945

Katz, Emil

Dunavecse, Hungary

1944

Katz, Leopold

Cerevic, Yugoslavia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Katz, Mordechai Markos

Kriszemieniec, Poland

Riga, Latvia, 1941

Katz, Shaul

1893

Napkor, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Katz, Shmuel Shaia

1877

Odessa, Ukraine

Odessa, Ukraine, 1942

Katz, Yitzkhak Yehuda Leib

1881

Siauliai, Lithuania

Telz, Lithuania

Katz, Yosef

1893

Visznice, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland

Katzberg, Moshe Khil

1915

Lodz, Poland

Lodz, Poland, 1942

Katzev,

1895

Riga, Latvia

Katzev, Yakov Tzemakh

1892

Druya, Poland

Druya, Poland, 1942

Katzman, David

Lvov, Poland

Kaufman, Shmuel

1890

Budapest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Kaufman, Shmuel Arie

1892

Krakow, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Kaufman, Yisrael Shmuel

1892

Vrable, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Kaufmann, Fernand

Strasbourg, France

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Kaver,

1909

Wolomin, Poland

Kavnatski, Hillel

1869

Kalinindorf, Ukraine

Kalinindorf, Ukraine, 1941

Keidansky, Khaim Shimshon

1885

Kolno, Poland

Kolno, Poland, 1941

Keller, Hirsh Yaakov

1894

Leipzig, Germany

Auschwitz, 1943

Kellerman, Jakob

1894

Duisburg, Germany

1941

Kemelmakher,

Koryc, Poland

Kozak, Poland, 1942

Kemin, Khaim Shlomo

1876

Lubicz, Poland

Kertesz, Yosef

Sepsiszentgyorgy, Rom

Khaleva, H. Y.

Czenstochov, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland

Khalfon, Yisrael

1867

Marculesti, Bessarabia

Marculesti, Bessarabia

Khason, Avraham

1883

Bitolj, Yugoslavia

Kheim, Shmuel

1914

Corfu, Greece

Khimovitz, Khaim

Rishkan, Bessarabia

Khudin, Yaakov Eliezer

Bialystok, Poland, 1942

Khusid, Moisha

Dyatlovo, Poland

Grodno, Poland, 1942

Kidanski, Zeev

1900

Butrimonys, Lithuania

Alitus, Lithuania, 1941

Kimelman, Hirsh Meir

1904

Mannheim, Germany

Fuenfteichen, Germany, 1944

Kinstler, Betsalel

Lvov, Poland

Kiperman, Avraham

Mizocz, Poland

Kipnis, Khaim Leib

Ushomir, Ukraine

Korosten, Ukraine, 1941

Kipnis, Menakhem

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

Kirschner, Avraham

1870

Berlin, Germany

Kirschner, Emanuel

1857

Munich, Bavaria

Munich, Bavaria, 1938

Kirzhner, Aharon

1897

Kamin Kashirsky, Pol.

Kishiniovski, Khaim

1900

Kishinev, Bessarabia

1941

Kiv, Moshe

1865

Voznesensk, Ukraine

Klagswald, Moshe

1906

Bedzin, Poland

Bedzin, Poland, 1942

Klar, Chamal

1895

Lodz, Poland

Lodz, Poland, 1942

Kle, Yitzkhak

Poprad, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Kleerekoper, Baruch

1912

Harlingen, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Kief, Moshe

Yugoslavia

Klein, Beniamin Zeev

1920

Ungvar, Czech.

Bory, Moravia

Klein, David

1900

Ungvar, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Klein, David

1888

Vienna, Austria

Klein, Eliyahu Natan

Ujpest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Klein, Marcus

1873

Amsterdam, Holland

Groningen, Holland, 1942

Klein, Meinhert

1882

Pancevo, Yugoslavia

Hungary, 1944

Klein, Moshe

1898

Tokaj, Hungary

1944

Klein, Moshe Leib

1882

Topocani, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Klein, Moshe Leib

1902

Poland, 1942

Klein, Moshe Tzvi

1886

Ungvar, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland 1944

Klein, Munis

1890

Majdanka, Czech.

Ungvar, Czech., 1945

Klein, Shimon

Senica, Slovakia

Kleiner, Pinkhas

1868

Akerman, Bessarabia

Bessarabia, Romania, 1942

Kleinfeld, Yaakov Tuvia

1875

Sosnowiec, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Kleinman, Dov

1870

Miedzyrzec, Poland

Miedzyrzec, Poland

Kleinstein Khaim

1893

Szumsk, Poland

Szumsk, Poland, 1941

Kliger, David

Wlodimierz, Poland

Kliger, Josef

1880

Lutzk, Poland

Lutzk, Poland, 1942

Kliger, Yosef

1908

Lutzk, Poland

Lutzk, Poland, 1941

Kligman, Meir

Dunayevtsy, Ukraine

Solonynchik, 1942

Kleinshtern, Menashe

1890

Wlodzimierz, Poland

Wlodzimierz, Poland, 1942

Klinkovstein, Jakov

Sisak, Croatia

Sisak, Croatia, 1941

Klishevan, Nahum

Calarasi Targ, Romania 1941

Knopf, Sinai

1890

Antwerp, Belgium

Antwerp, Belgium, 1942

Knopf, Yitzkhak Sinai

1902

Antwerp, Belgium

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Kober, Moshe

1898

Dortmund, Germany

Dortmund, Germany, 1941

Kober, Shmuel

1865

Lissa, Poland

Kodriansky, Zeydl Leyb Yosif

Kiev, Ukraine

Babi Yar, Ukraine, 1941

Kofman, Khaim Yitzkhak

Budapest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Kogan, Avraham

Kraysk, Belorus

Borisov, Belorus, 1941

Kohen, Yaakov

1880

Varazdin, Yugoslavia

Kohen, Yaakov Moshe

Tiktin, Poland

Lopuchowo, Poland, 1941

Kohen, Yitzkhak

1868

Bitola, Yugoslavia

Treblinka, Poland, 1943

Kohen, Yosef

1876

Sarajevo, Bosnia

Jasenovac, Yugoslavia, 1941

Kohn, Jakob

Varazdin, Crotia

Varazdin, Croatia, 1941

Kohn, Lajosz

1916

Soltvadkerz, Hungary

Kohn, Leib Lipot

1906

Budapest, Hungary

Ukraine, 1942

Kohn, Mano

1904

Mezokovesd, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Kohn, N.

Banja Luka, Croatia

Banja Luka, Croatia, 1941

Kohn, Shmuel

Budapest, Hungary

Kojler, Berko Dov

Krzemieniec, Poland

Kolb,

Pesterzsebet, Hungary

1944

Kolker, Filip

Czechoslovakia

Poland

Komoroski, Rhinehart

Minsk, Belorus

Auschwitz, Poland

Kontzentz, Meir Khil

1900

Konviseris, Khaim Zeev

1890

Mariampole, Poland

Mariampole, Poland, 1943

Kordonski, Shlomo Yitzkhak

1870

Romanovca, Romania

Romanovca, Romania, 1941

Koretzki, Yaakov

1912

Korzce, Poland

Korzce, Poland

Korman, Pinkhas

Poland

Korner, Faiwisch

1886

Czernowitz, Bukovina

Mogilev, Belorus, 1941

Kosover, Yosef

1895

Wilno, Poland

Wilno, Poland, 1942

Kotler, Yitzkhak

Yedenitz, Romania

Ukraine, 1941

Kovilia, Henrick

1876

Turzovka, Slovakia

1940

Koviliak, Khanokh

1876

Halic, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland

Kowalski, Leib

1888

Grodno, Poland

Kozlowsky, Hillel

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland, 1942

Kozminski, Yehuda

1893

Hildesheim, Germany

Warsaw, Poland

Kramer, Ovadia

1908

Lutzk, Poland

Krammwer, David,

1862

Coevorden, Holland

Krankurs, Eliyahu Eli

1888

Kishinev, Bessarabia

Transnistria, Ukraine, 1941

Krapiwski, Yisrael

1871

Odessa, Ukraine

Transnistria, Ukraine

Krasniansky, Mordekhai

1868

Nitra, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Kratka, Yekhiel Meir

1896

Warsaw, Poland

Lublin, Poland, 1943

Kraus, Jeno Yehuda

1913

Novi Sad, Yugoslavia

Russia, 1943

Kraus, Moshe Moiz

Kloczew, Poland

1945

Krausz, Jakob

1869

Budapest, Hungary

1945

Crausz, Yaakov Eugen

1910

Czechoslovakia

Buchenwald, Germany,

Creizer, Levi Yitzkhak

1880

Stepan, Poland

Karatchobye, Poland, 1942

Cremen, Solomon

1878

Yevpatoriya, Russia

Yevpatoriya, Russia, 1943

Cremer, Ovadia

1908

Lukow, Poland

Crivoj, Hennakh

Kowno, Lithuania

Dachau, Germany

Crois, Jakob Eliezer

1869

Budapest

Budapest, 1945

Crupnik, Moshe

1877

Lutzk, Poland

Lutzk, Poland, 1941

Crupnik, Moshe

1882

Lutzk, Poland

Lutzk, Poland, 1943

Cshepitzki, Moshe

1892

Zarki, Poland

Cukiolka, Moshe

1895

Jendzejow, Poland

Poland, 1943

Cul, Nekhemia

1914

Ukraine, 1942

Cula, Yisrael Yehuda

1883

Kobrin, Poland

Kobrin, 1943

Cun, Beno

Bekescsaba, Hungary

Budapest, Hungary

Cunda, Beinish

1866

Kursk, Russia

Kursk, Russia, 1941

Cunstadt, Yosef

1887

Vienna, Austria

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Cuperman, Dov

1890

Mogilev, Ukraine

Beltz, Bessarabia

oipershmid, Shmuel

1881

Male Sdliszcze, Polanc

oipershtok, Gershon

1885

Michaliszki, Poland

Janischki, Lithuania

Curzweil, Moshe

1874

Treutchtlingen, Bavaria Theresienstadt, Czech., 1942

Cutzik, Mordechai

Kowel, Poland

Kowel, Poland, 1941

Cuzminski, Leo Yehuda

1893

Hildesheim, Germany

Warsaw, Poland

L

achotzki, Herbert

1920

Berlin, Germany

Kowno, Lithuania

ahis, Barukh Mordekhai

1870

Budapest, Hungary

Budapest, Hungary

ahis, Haim Manish

1863

Czortkow, Poland

Czortkow, Poland, 1941

akser, Nakhman

1890

Czernowitz, Romania

Obodovka, Ukraine, 1941

am, Menakhem

1880

Jaroslaw, Poland

Jaroslaw, Poland, 1942

am, Meshulam

1890

Jaroslaw, Poland

Jaroslaw, Poland, 1942

amm, Yulius

Frankfurt amMain, Ger. Treblinka, Poland, 1939

ampin, Simcha Binim

1868

Krynica, Poland

Krynica, Poland

andau, Benjamin

1873

Gablonz, Bohemia

Birkenau, Poland, 1943

andau, Hertz

1892

Amsterdam, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland

andau, Hertz

Klodawa, Poland

Chelmno, Poland, 1942

andau, Khaim Shmuel

1901

Slovakia

1943

andau, Menakhem Mendel

1861

Klodawa, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1941

andau, Moshe Naftali Herzke 1893

Amsterdam, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

anski, Avraham

Marijampole, Lithuania Marijampole, Lith., 1941

ansky, Shmaryahu

1870

Mozyr, Belorus

Daeidgrodek, Poland, 1941

aub, Eliezer

Vienna, Austria

Yugoslavia, 1942

azar, Aharon

1891

Czechoslovakia

Auschwitz, Poland

azarus, Toni

1893

Kottbus, Germany

Litzmannstadt, Poland

azovsky, Shmuel

1874

Hamburg, Germany

Riga, Latvia, 1941

eboerchen, Bernard

1925

Amsterdam, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

ebovitz, Natan

1911

Ocsa, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

ebovitz, Yosef

1904

Iza, Czechoslovakia

Birkenau, Poland

Lederberg,

Antwerp, Belgium

Leefsma, Khaim

1885

Hengelo, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland

Lefkowitz, Avraham

1885

Nadudvar, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Lefkovitz, Erno

1912

Csorna, Hungary

Mathausen, Austria, 1944

Lefkovitz, Ilan

1906

Kralovsky, Czech.

Poland, 1944

Lehmann, Theodor

Reichshoffen, France

Auschwitz, Poland

Leib, Shmuel Dov

1898

Cluj, Romania

1944

Leibel, Jonah

1903

Brussels, Belgium

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Leibovitz, Beniamin

1904

Borsa, Romania

Targu, Moldavia, 1944

Leibovitz, Yosef

Horincovo, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Leibwohl, Yehuda

1902

Chirow, Poland

Leikhter, Yitzkhak

1886

Sosnowic, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Leimsider, Geza

1895

Nagyvarad, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Leiter, Zeev

1907

Trembowla, Poland

Lvov, Poland, 1942

Lejbyszes, Tuvia

1907

Wlodzimierz, Poland

Lelgant, Khaim

1886

Odessa, Ukraine

Odessa, Ukraine, 1941

Lemberger, Yosef

1895

Chrzanow, Poland

1943

Lemky, Yehoshua

1853

Courland, Latvia

Berlin, Germany, 1942

Lemler, Bernhard

1890

Vienna, Austria

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Len, Khaim

Slabodka, Poland

Slabodka, Poland, 1940

Lerner, Khayim

Bukovina, Romania

Lerner, Khaim

1882

Storozenice, Bukovina

Bershad, Ukraine, 1941

Lesch, Avraham

1884

Taurage, Lithuania

Savli, Lithuania, 1941

Lev, David

1896

TG Mures, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Lever, Benedictus

1923

Amsterdam, Holland

Amsterdam, Holland, 1943

Levi, Avraam

Thessaloniki, Macedor

Levi, Beniamino Ugo

1895

Venice, Italy

Germany

Levi, Moshe

1890

Corfu, Greece

Levi, Salomon

1874

Vienna, Austria

Riga, Latvia, 1942

Levi, Yehuda Leib

1905

Pressburg, Slovakia

Germany

Levin, Alter

Luniniec, Poland

Luniniec, Poland, 1942

Levin Hersh

1912

Pabjanice, Poland

1940

Levin, Volf

1870

Lugansk, Ukraine

1942

Levin, Yehezkel

1895

Vilnius, Lithuania

Ponary, Lithuania, 1943

Levinson, Beinish

1901

Jurburg, Lithaunia

Lazdai, Lithuania, 1941

Levovitz, Dov

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

Lewenkopf, Felix

1885

Paris, France

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Libeskind, Avraham

1900

Przedborz, Poland

Libovitz, Yehuda Arie

1880

Jassy, Romania

Mircesti, Romania, 1944

Libshon, Yaakov

1898

Koziany, Poland

Koziany, Poland, 1942

Licht, Baruch Schaul

Plaszow, Poland, 1943

Lichtenstein, Arthur

1882

Breslav, Poland

Theresienstadt, Cz., 1942

Lichtenstein, Leib

Groningen, Holland

Lichtensztein, Mordechai Eli

1870

Cemernik, Poland

Cemernik, Poland, 1943

Lichterman, Jakub

Warsaw, Poland

Lieberman, Wolf

Drohobych, Ukraine

Drohobych, Ukraine, 1941

Liebermensch, Samuel

1886

Mannheim, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Liebeskind, Abram

1907

Przedborz, Poland

Liemde, Herman Isidor

1905

Hertogenbosch,HolIand Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Lifshitz, Yaakov

1897

Lodz, Poland

Likhtenshtein, Artur Yisrael

1886

Breslau, Germany

Likhtenshtein, Yerakhmiel

Likhter, Yitzkhak

Sosnowice, Poland

Sauschwitz, Poland

Likhtman, Dov

1870

Ostrog, Poland

Ostrog, Poland, 1941

Liling, Shimon

1872

Sahy, Czechoslovakia

1944

Linden,

1882

Radomsko, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Linkovski, Yaakov

1886

Bielsko, Poland

Tarnow, Poland, 1942

Lisauer, David

1894

Michalovce, Czech.

Loewy, Moritz

1881

Ostrava, Moravia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

London, Emil

1909

Hejocsaba, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Lorjan, Armin

Rakosliget, Hungary

Morshansk, Russia, 1943

Lotringer, Nachmin

1854

Lvov, Poland

Kamionka, Poland, 1942

Luftshein, Shlomo

1908

Stanislaw, Poland

Stanislaw, Poland, 1941

Lurie, David

Kowno, Lithuania

Lutzki, Mikhael

1888

Lomza, Poland

Czerwony, Poland, 1941

Lvovitz, Berele

Lvov, Poland

M

Magid, Yaakov

1889

Yablonna, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Maharshak, Yisrael

1873

Riga, Latvia

Riga, Latvia, 1943

Mamlok, Shimon

Bad Karlsruhe,Ger.

Mandel, Eugen

Zagreb, Croatia

Zagreb, Croatia, 1941

Mandel, Herman Tzvi

1893

Kisvarda, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Mandelbaum, Markus Hirsh

1893

Vienna, Austria

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Mandelbaum, Mordekhai

1904

Vienna, Austria

Theresienstadt, Czech.

Mandelblat, Tzalik

1893

Chilia, Romania

1943

Manukowski, Emil

1929

Amsterdam, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Margolis, Shlomo

1887

Janova, Lithuania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Marcus, Shlomo

1873

Hamburg, Germany

Litzmannstadt, Poland

Margolis, Gerhon

Vienna, Austria

Margolis, Shlomo

1887

Janova, Lithuania

Janova, Lithuania, 1942

Margulit, Avraham

1892

Bukovina, Romania

Czernowitz, Bukovina, 1941

Mark, Abraham

Czernowitz, Bukovina

Czernowitz, Bukovina, 1941

Markeninya, Shmuel

Lubavichi, Russia

Lyubavichi, Russia, 1942

Markman, Elchanan

1893

Parafinov, Poland

Parafinov, Poland, 1942

Markovitz, Benzion

1912

Beclean, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Marmorstein, Arpad

1906

Prostejov, Moravia

Baranovich, Poland, 1942

Marmorstein, Avraham

1908

Zilina, Slovakia

Maroko, Yisrael Eliyahu

1896

Amsterdam, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Mathias, Mathias

Vienna, Austria

Auschwitz, Poland,

Matushek, Hersh Leib

1920

Kalisz, Poland

Treblinka, Poland

Matzger,

1871

Kamienic, Ukraine

Kamienic, Ukraine, 1942

Medowski, Moshe

1923

Kosow, Poland

Kosow, Poland, 1942

Medwed, Yitzkhak
Meisl, Walter
Meizler, Shlomo
Melamdow, Leon
Melamed, Avraham
Melamed, Meir
Melamud, Moisei
Melkhior, Avraham
Meltzer, Isaac
Mendels, Shmuel
Merling, Meshulam
Mermelstein, Farkash
Mermelstein, Izidor
Merzel, Moshe
Messing, Majir
Mikhalowski, Jakub
Milikovsky, Lippe
Mintz, Monya
Mintzeles,
Mirwis, Leo
Misonzhnik, Pinkhas
Mitelberg, Avigdor
Mizan, Reuven
Molkho, Yaakov
Mops, Natan
Mordushenko,
Morel, David Meir
Mosel, Yaakov Itzkhak
Moses, Jacques
Moskovitz, Moshe
Moskovitz, Koppel
Mostovoi, Avram Ber
Motian, Shlomo
Mozes, Armin
Mozes, Nieweg
Mozes, Noakh
Mudrik, Khaim David
Mueller,

Mueller, Abraham
Mug, Jacob
Munk, Gabriel
Musafia, Yitzkhak
Muszkes, Abraham Moshe

1901 Dubno, Poland

Czestochowa, Poland
Warsaw, Poland
Bialystok, Poland
Rotterdam, Holland
Samgorodok, Ukraine
Warsaw, Poland
Horodenka, Ukraine
Leeuwarden, Holland
Gura Humora, Bukov.
Slovakia, Czech.
Budapest, Hungary
Tiszafured, Hungary
Warsaw, Poland
Holesov, Moravia
Osmiany, Poland
Riga, Latvia

Eichstetten, Germany
Bendery, Romania
Lodz, Poland
Corfu, Greece
Saloniki, Macedonia
Rowne, Poland
Kiev, Ukraine
Riki, Poland
Gravenhege, Holland
Antwerp, Belgium
Polana, Czech.
Michalovce, Slovakia
Priluki, Ukraine
Cremenetz, Poland
Mindszent, Hungary
Groningen, Holland
Senta, Yugoslavia
Panemune, Lithuania
Sahy, Slovakia
Munich, Bavaria
Amsterdam, Holland
Modra, Slovakia
Zemun, Yugoslavia
Opatow, Poland

Dachau, Bavaria, 1945
Treblinka, Poland, 1943

Treblinka, Poland
Poland, 1943

Samgorodok, Ukraine, 1942
Bergen-Belsen, Germany ,1942
Horodenka, Ukraine, 1944
Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Gura Humora, Bukovina, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 194x
Kassa, Czechoslovakia, 1944
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Warsaw, Poland
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Osmiany, Poland, 1942
Riga, Latvia, 1941
Lvov, Poland, 1943
Gurs, France
Odessa, Ukraine, 1941
Auschwitz, Poland

Poland, 1941
Rowne, Poland, 1941
Babi Yar, Ukraine, 1941
Treblinka, Poland, 1942
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Riesa, Germany, 1945
Germany, 1945

Austria, 1944
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Kaunas, Lithuania
Poland

Dachau, Bavaria, 1938
Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Jasenovac, Yugoslavia

N

igel, Yosef

1914

Suchedniow, Poland

igelberg, Shmuel

Vienna, Austria

Vienna, Austria

ijovitz, Khaim

1879

Sahy, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

ikhshon, Mordekhai Marko

1902

Corfu, Greece

Birkenau, Poland

ithan, Alois

Krupina, Slovakia

Poland, 1942

itt, Willy

1913

Giessen, Germany

Poland, 1942

Mman, Miksha

Sighet, Romania

^mesh, Bernat

1890

Kispest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

'met, Yakow

1876

Nodz Warod, Romanic

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

^uhaus, Bela

1904

Poland

'umann, Max

Berlin, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

^ustadt,

Cracow, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

htburg, Emanuel

1904

Pancevo, Yugoslavia

Topovske, Yugoslavia, 1941

renberg, Abraham

1897

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

renburger, Yaakov Naftali

1888

Breslaw, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

udovsky, Moshe

1910

Kosow, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Diman, Shmuel Dov

1873

Pogranice, Czech.

1942

Diman, Tzvi

1890

Poroszlo, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Dkhimovitz, Yekl

1880

Riga, Latvia

Dwinsk, Latvia, 1945

Dkhimovitz, Zelik

1905

Riga, Latvia

Russia, 1941

Drden, Aleksander

1887

Hamburg, Germany

Dvitzky, Hillel

1878

Libau, Latvia

Libau, Latvia

Dwodzielski, Moshe

1909

Tomaszow, Poland

1942

irnberger, Josef

Prague, Bohemia

jssbaum, Benno

1880

Neuss, Germany

Riga, Latvia, 1944

o

Oberman, Aharon Meir
Obershmidt, Rafael
Ochrimsky, Moshe
Ogutsch, Wilhelm
Oikhiziger, Eliezer
Oliker, Menakhem
Olivenshtein, Yehoshua
Olshtein, Shaye
Oren, Avraham
Osakovski, Pinkhas
Osiatinski, Leib
Osterweil-Strauss, Max
Ostreikher, Dezso

1902 Drohycsin, Poland

1902 Suwalki, Poland
Wegrow, Poland

1893 Essen, Germany

1887 Chrzanow, Poland

1880 Ostrozec, Poland
1882 Rembertow, Poland
1922 Warsaw, Poland
1900 Jassy, Romania

Slonim, Poland

1878 Lipovets, Ukraine

1881 Prague, Bohemia
1908 Kaposvar, Hungary

Lublin, Poland, 1942

Theresienstadt, Czech., 1944
Auschwitz, 1942

1942

Romania, 1941
Lipovets, Ukraine
Russia, 1943

P

Pagrach, Samuel
Pak, Wolf
Pakula, Ismar
Pakter, Mordechai

1912 Rijsen, Holland

Lvov, Poland
1903 Bernstadt, Germany
1924 Amsterdam, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

1942
Poland, 1943
Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Paneth,Moshe Menakhem

1883

Nagyatad, Hungary

Papenheim, Natan

1903

Berlin, Germany

Papo, Yaakov

1909

Sarajevo, Bosnia

Pardo, Bohor

1873

Bitola, Serbia

Paskus, Andras

1915

Dunapentele, Hungary

Pekelman, Eli

1889

Marculesti, Bessarabia

Pekhman, Mikhael

Buczacz, Poland

Perepyotchik, Aharon

Peretz, Moshe

1895

Darsuniskis, Lithuania

Perl, Moshe

1885

Budapest, Hungary

Perlman, Arnold Dov

1904

Budapest, Hungary

Perlman, Hersh Tzvi

1885

Stropko, Slovakia

Perlman, Menashe Yehezkel

1882

Brigel, Poland

Perlman, Moshe

1890

Krakow, Poland

Perlman, Yaakov

1893

Radzin, Poland

Perlman, Yosef

1880

Kiskunfelegyhaza,Hung.

Persky, Aharon Yaakov

1891

Ozmiana, Poland

Pesakh, Shlomo Tzvi Hersh

1890

Jassy, Romania

Philipson, Isaac

1902

Hoogeveen, Holland

Piatetzky, Tevye

1891

Pikar, Yisrael

Vizhon, Lithuania

Pikholtz, Moshe

Zurawno, Poland

Pikel, Berl

1911

Chust, Czechoslovakia

Pilovnik, Noah

1890

Wilno, Poland

Pinczewski,Yeshaya Emanuel

Lodz, Poland

Pine, Shalom Yitzkhak

1885

Senta, Yugoslavia

Pinter, Moshe

Rymanov, Poland

Pinter Rokakh, Mendl

Amsterdam, Holland

Pitkis, Godl

Odessa, Ukraine

Pitkovitz, Khaim

1882

Sobin, Poland

Plachtinski, Gutman

1875

Buchen, Germany

Pochimak, Mordekhai

1877

Warsaw, Poland

Polacco, Abramo

1870

Genova, Italy

Polak, Albert

1923

Amsterdam, Holland

Polak, Levi

1924

Gavenhage, Holland

Pomerantz, Khanokh

1890

Wloclawek, Poland

Poper,

1873

Klatovy, Bohemia

Popper, Shmuel

1886

Celldomolk, Hungary

Potimik, Mordekhai

1887

Warsaw, Poland

Potsomok, Mordekhai

1878

Skidl, Poland

Prager, Meir Yitzkhak

1875

Poland

Prager, Yaakov

Aleksandrow, Poland

Premitke, Mendel

1875

Prague, Bohemia

Pres, Yosef

1884

Hoszcza, Poland

Pressman, Avraham

1875

Telenesty, Bessarabia

Prizament,

1880

Rowne, Poland

Przibielski, Gad

1913

Zgerzh, Poland

Reteg, Hungary, 1944

Yugoslavia, 1941
Treblinka, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Namangan, Uzbekistan, 1942

1942
Melitopol, Ukraine
Darsuniskis, Lithuania, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Don River, 1943

Treblinka, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Dachau, Bavaria, 1945
Romania, 1941
Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Vizhon, Lithuania, 1941
Zurawno, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Wilno, Poland, 1940
Lodz, Poland
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Rymanov, Poland, 1942
Amsterdam, Holland
Odessa, Ukraine, 1941
Sobin, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Treblinka, Poland, 1942
1943
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Warsaw, Poland, 1943
Skidl, Poland, 1942

Poland, 1943
Treblinka, Poland, 1942
Hoszcza, Poland, 1942
Telenesty, Bessarabia, 1941
Kostopol, Poland, 1942
Lodz, Poland

Ptashnik, Khaim Sholom

Podbrodz, Poland Podbrodz, Poland, 1941

Rabi, Yosef
Rabin, Uziel
Rabinovitz, Avraham
Rabinowitz, Moshe yakov
Rabinovitz, Zalman
Kaunas, Lithuania
Rachelsohn, Eliezer Mozes
Radomski, Yitzkhak
Radzichovski, Shmuel
Rafael, Samuel
Rapoport, Kushel
Rapoport, Yankel
Rapoport, Yekhiel
Ratzimor, Mordekhai
Rauch, Baruch

Rechtgeshafiner, Avraham
Reibel, Yehuda
Reichik, Yaakov David
Reif, Leibisz
Reikhman, Herman
Reiner, Yosef
Reinhartz, David
Reinitz, Adolf
Reinitz, Avraham Tzvi
Reinhold, Miki
Reisel, Pinchas Volf
Resnick, Shlomo Chaim
Reznik, Yosef
Ribka, Alter Benzion
Riev, Mendel
Rima, Sender
Rinhartz, David
Ritmeester, Jacob
Rizel, Eliahu

Amsterdam, Holland

Lenowiec, Poland Lenowiec, Poland, 1942

Lublin, Poland Lublin, Poland

>, Poland

Kowno, Lithuania

Roiti

1, Aba

Rokeach, Mendel
Rontal, Moshe
Rosenberg, Avrum Ber
Rosenberg, Herszl
Rosenberg, Rafael
Rosenblatt, Levi Yitzkhak
Rosenfeld, Andor Yosef

Remiremont, France
Bruxelles, Belgium
Berestechko, Poland
Becej, Yugoslavia
Minsk, Belorus
Kamenetz, Ukraine
Warsaw, Poland
Tomaszow, Poland
Lesko, Poland
Cluj, Romania
Poryck, Poland
Satmar, Romania
Zuromin, Poland
Dubno, Poland
Hegyes, Hungary
Prague, Bohemia
Tornalya, Czech.
Budapest, Hungary
Parkan, Slovakia
Kiskunhalas, Hungary
Amsterdam, Holland
Grajewo, Poland
Krasnystaw, Ukraine
Bedzin, Poland
Grosvardein, Romania
Damachava, Poland
Tornala, Slovakia
Amsterdam, Holland
Dorohoi, Moldavia
Proskurov, Ukraine
Lvov, Poland
Wilno, Poland
Davideni, Bukovina
Warsaw, Poland
Joniskis, Lithuania
Tarnow, Poland
Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Bruxelles, Belgium

1942
Becej, Yugoslavia, 1942
Minsk, Belorus, 1941
Kamenetz, Ukraine, 1941
Warsaw, Poland, 1942
Belzec, Poland

Poryck, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland

Dubno, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland
Theresienstadt, Czech.
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Auschwitz, Poland
Ukraine, 1943
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Grajewo, Poland, 1941
Krasnystaw, Ukraine, 1941
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Brzesc, Poland, 1942
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Buchenwald, Germany, 1941
Dorohoi, Moldavia, 1942
Proskurov, Ukraine, 1941
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Wilno, Poland
Transnistria, Uk., 1942

Joniskis, Lith., 1941
Tarnow, Poland, 1942
Hidegseg, Hungary, 1944

Rosenfeld, Lipot

1900

Tiszaigar, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Rosner, Mordekhai Shlomo

1901

Kiskunfelegyhaza,Hung. Dachau, Germany, 1945

Rostovski, Gedalia

1878

Lodz, Poland

Lodz, Poland, 1941

Roter, Wolf

1900

Pozarski, Poland

Pozarski, Poland, 1942

Roth, Alexander

Losice, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Roth, David

1882

Piestany, Slovakia

Opole, Poland

Roth, Eliyahu Shmuel

Vienna, Austria

France

Roth, Etya

Krakow, Poland

Tarnow, Poland

Rothfeld, Chaim Shlomo

1885

Hlohovec, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Rotman, Aharon

Koeln, Germany

Rotman, Moshe Nekhemia

Krzywice, Poland

Krzywice, Poland

Rovenski, Yaakov

Slovakia, Czech.

Poland, 1944

Roz, Mikhael Zev

Vaiguva, Lithuania

Kelm, Lithuania, 1941

Rozenbaum, Yitzkhak

1908

Krakow, Poland

Rozenberg, Moshe

1910

Namestovo, Slovakia

Lublin, Poland, 1942

Rozengerg, Reuven Khaim

1881

Nod Selez, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Rozenberg, Shalom

1870

Rjapid, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Rozenberg, Yirmiyahu

Kunow, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Rozenblum, Eliezer

1913

Sosnowic, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Rozenboim, Gabriel

Stanislaw, Poland

Germany

Rozenfeld, Abrahm-Mendel

Rozenfrukht, Khaim Shmuel

1877

Slomniki, Poland

Belzec, Poland, 1942

Rozenshtraukh,

1914

Brody, Poland

Brody, Poland, 1942

Rozentzweig, Refael

Krasnostaw, Poland

Krasnostaw, Poland, 1943

Rozmarin,

Lutsk, Poland

Lutsk, Poland, 1942

Rozner, Yehoshua

Znojmo, Czech.

Rubel, Yehuda

1889

Satmar, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Rubin,

Bedzin, Poland

Rubin, Moshe

1890

Lowicz, Poland

Warsaw, Poland, 1943

Rubinshtein, Gedaliahu

1884

Warsaw, Poland

Rubinstein, Mordekhai Shalom

1896

Wloclawek, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1943

Rubinstein, Yehuda

Riga, Latvia

Riga, latvia

Rubinstein, Yosef Shlomo

Riga, Latvia

Riga, Latvia

Rubinsky, Yisrael Moshe

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

Ruda, Mendel

1875

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

Rudeski,

Poland

Rudnitzk, Yisrael Moshe

1901

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

Rudoler, Avraham

Sosnowiec, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland

Rup, Isak

Vrbove, Czech.

Rup, Yitzkhak Aizik

1912

Maehrisch Ostrau, Cz.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Rup, Yosef

1880

Munkacs, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Rut, David

1885

Nyirabrany, Hungary

1944

Rut, Shimon

1871

Kamionka, Poland

Kamionka, Poland

Rot, Tzvi

Debeljaca, Yugoslavia

Sajmiste, Croatia

Ryf, Emanuel

1876

Grosvardein, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Ryf, Yitzkhak

1900

Grosvardein, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Sabur, Menachem
Sacerdoti Coen, Eugenio
Safian, Josef
Safir, Gustav
Salomons, Alexander
Salzmann, Yitzkhak Eduard
Samarian, Nakhum
Samolski, Yitzkhak
Samuel, Izidor
Sandler, Shaul
Sapir, Aron
Sapozhnik, Mikhal
Savranski, Mikhail
Schacher, Georg Hermann
Schachter, Zeev Mordechai
Schaefer, Georg
Schapira, Chune
Schapiro, Yehuda Leib
Scharf, Isidor
Scharf, Lajos
Scheikes, Daniel
Schlafit, Hrsz Tzvi
Schlesinger, Elias
Schlesinger, Shalom Hersh
Schmalzbach, Leon
Schmidt, Joseph
Schmidt, Khaim
Schmidt, Yitzkhak
Schmidt, Yoseph
Schneider, Meir
Schoenfeld, Yeshiahu Khaim
Schor, Wolf Mordekhai
Schreiber, Akiva
Schreiber, Yisrael Zeev
Schwartz, Aron Moshe
Schwartz, Boruch Mordechai
Schwartz, Yosef Hersh
Schwartz, Lipot
Schwartz, Sandor
Schwartz, Yaakov Sandor
Schwarzchild, Yitzkhak Yisrael
Seckbach, Simon
Segal, Aharon
Seidenfeld-Singer, Josef
Seife, Boris

1892

Sighet, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1880

Padova, Italy

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1868

Krzemieniec, Poland

1891

Haigerloch, Germany

Riga, Latvia

1892

Nymegen, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland

1878

Dresden, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Bendery, Romania

1944

Danzig, Poland

Majdanek, Poland

1883

Szarvas, Hungary

Austria, 1945

1861

Polona, Ukraine

Polona, Ukraine, 1941

1912

Warsaw, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1943

1880

Golovanivsk, Ukraine

Golovanivsk, Ukraine, 1941

Erfurt, Germany

Theresienstadt, Czech., 1941

1888

Krakow, Poland

1870

Berlin, Germany

1897

Wisznewe, Poland

Wisznewe, Poland, 1942

1882

Przasnyz, Poland

Anikst, Lithuania, 1942

1910

Sopron, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

1889

Mezokovesd, Hung.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1875

Sierpc, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

1916

Lvov, Poland

1879

Pered, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland

1890

Telegd, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1882

Hechingen, Germany

Riga, Latvia, 1942

1902

Berlin, Germany

Gyrenbad, Switz., 1942

1888

1884

Prague, Bohemia
Chernovitzy, Rom.
Bircza, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1913

Ruthenia, Czech.

Kamionka, Poland

1866

Lvov, Poland

Lvov, Poland

1884

Berlin, Germany

Pszemesz, Poland

1889

Hlohovec, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1870

Sered, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Miskolc, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1872

Szamosujvar, Rom.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1894

Baja, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1924

Budapest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1945

1893

Albertirsa, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

1896

Lithuania, 1941

1877

Berlin, Germany

1910

Poland

Grodno, Poland

1888

Przemsyl, Poland

Przemsyl, Poland, 1943

Berlin, Germany

Jasenovac, Yugoslavia, 1942

Seyffers,

Apeldoorn, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland

Shachnovitz, Shlomo

Yurburg, Lithuania

Yurburg, Lithuania, 1941

Shafir, Herman

1899

Hildesheim, Germany

Treblinka, Poland, 1943

Shafran, Shlomo Zalman

1902

Balasagyarmat, Hung.

Auschwitz, Poland

Shalit, Hershel

1882

Kishinev, Bessarabia

1941

Shames, Itchie

Bobowa, Poland

Shames, Motyl

1900

Sokoly, Poland

Sokoly, Poland, 1942

Shapira, Shimon Meir

1878

Prague, Bohemia

Poland, 1942

Shapiro, Hirsch Tzvi

Rakow, Poland

Rakow, Poland

Shapiro, Yitzkhak

1879

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Shargorodski, David

1893

Kirovograd, Ukraine

Kirovograd, Ukraine, 1941

Shatz, David Leibusz

1900

France

Shatz, Karpul

Lazdei, Lithuania, 1941

Shaulski, Leib

Gaysin, Ukraine

Gaysin, Ukraine, 1941

Shchekach, Eliezer

1929

Lodz, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Shchekach, Hersh Khanokh

1897

Lodz, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Sheftelovitz, Yisrael

Breslau, Germany

Shein, Yosef

1882

Lvov, Poland

1942

Shekhor, Yoel

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland

Shekhter,

Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Shekhter, Mordekhai

Bircza, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland

Shakhter, Nakhum

1875

Korzec, Poland

Korzec, Poland, 1942

Shekhter, Tzvi

1896

Skalat, Poland

Belzec, Poland, 1943

Shekhtman, Moshe

1890

Odessa, Ukraine

Odessa, Ukraine

Shenker, David

1884

Kowel, Poland

Kowel, Poland, 1941

Shenker, Volf Zeev

1881

Kowel, Poland

Kowel, Poland, 1941

Sher, Yehuda Leib

1903

Sherman, Pinkhas

1887

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland, 1942

Shertz, Shlomo

Wilno, Poland

Shifer, Pinkhas

1900

Krakow, Poland

Lodz, Poland, 1942

Shifman, Shlomo

Buczacz, Poland

Buczacz, Poland

Shilder, Pinkhas

1900

Rowne, Poland

Rowne, Poland, 1941

Shinkman, Eliezer

1903

Vilkomir, Lithuania

Shirman, Moisei

1875

Makeyevka, Ukraine

Stalino, Ukraine, 1941

Shlag, Shabtai

Lodz, Poland

Krakow, Poland

Shlezinger, Joseph

Hungary

Shlezinger, Shmuel

1900

Transnistria, Ukraine, 1944

Shlomovitz, Eliezer Mordekhai 1896

Zvolen, Slovakia

Theresienstadt, Czec h., 1941

Shlomovitz, Moshe

1878

Szabadhidveg, Hung.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Shmaia, Yehuda Leib

1889

Bielsko, Poland

Bochnia, PolandShmeltzer,

Yaakov

1880

Nasice, Yugoslavia

Jasenovac, Croatia

Shmid,

1885

Pinsk, Poland

Pinsk, Poland

Shomri, Aharon

1914

Ozarkov, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Shpasser, Hermann

1887

Sombor, Yugoslavia

Bavaria, Germany, 1945

Shpasser, Yaakov

1893

Sombor, Yugoslavia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Shpiegel, Mikhael

Budapest, Hungary

Shpigel, Herman

1902

Sid, Yugoslavia

Shpindel, Pinchas

1867

Grudek, Poland

Grudek, Poland, 1942

Shpitz, David

1891

Berlin, Germany

Budapest, Hungary, 1944

Shreiber, Yosef

Kassa, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Shtark, Avraham

1906

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Shtarkman, Benzion

Kamenetz, Ukraine

Kamenetz, Ukraine, 1943

Shtein, Bernat

Isaszeg, Hungary

Ukraine

Shtein, Dodek Geza

Shtein, Dov Berele

1903

1942

Shtein, Yehuda

Transylvania, Romania

. Auschwitz, Poland

Shteinberger, Yisrael Moshe

1902

Bezi, Hungary

Shteinbok, Ignaz

1868

Burgkunstadt, Ger.

Belzec, Poland, 1942

Shteiner, Avraham

1900

Papa, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Shteinmetz, Meir

1886

Rakamaz, Hungary

Birkenau, Poland, 1944

Shteinmetz, Yekhiel

Transyvania, Romania

Shtekel, Beniamin

Gura Humora, Rom.

Murafa, Ukraine, 1942

Shternberg, Mordekhai

1881

Orkeny, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Shternberg, Moshe

1894

Lublin, Poland

Shtro, Avraham Dov

1942

Shub, Mikhael

Utena, Lithuania

Lithuania, 1941

Shubovitz, Avraham

1900

Simnas, Lithuania

Alytus, Lithuania, 1941

Shufftan, Leopold

Gdansk, Poland

Shtutthof, Polans, 1940

Shuldiner, Meir

1908

Strojinetz, Romania

Transnistria, Ukr., 1942

Shulerer, Moshe

Tarnow, Poland

Shulhof, Moshe Yaakov

1880

Budapest, Hungary

Budapest, Hungary

Shulman, Nakhum

1885

Shulman, Shlomo

Lukow, Poland

Shur, Volf

Miculiczyn, Poland

Miculikzyn, Poland, 1942

Shushan, David

1905

Pruzana, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Shuster, Khanania

1890

Wisznewe, Poland

Wisznewe, Poland, 1942

Shuster, Moshe

1899

Bijelina, Yugoslavia

Jasenovac, Yugos., 1941

Shuster, Moshe

Libovne, Poland

Libovne, Poland

Shvalb,

1885

Apatin, Yugoslavia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Shvartz, Ignatz

Botinac, Yugoslavia

Shvartz, Khaim Benzion

1896

Minsk, Belorus

Minsk, Belorus, 1942

Shvartz, Yaakov Shmuel

1893

Albertirsa, Hungary

1944

Shvartz, Yosef

1913

Jasina, Czechoslovakia

Auschwitz, Poland

Shwidler, David

1904

Daugieliszki, Poland

Polygon, Poland, 1942

Simiryan, Nakhum

1901

Bendery, Romania

Sin Caiman, Josub

1874

Herta, Romania

Edineti, Romania

Singer, Abraham

1902

Krosno, Poland

Belzec, Poland

Singer, Eliezer

1914

Nitra, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Singer, Kurt

Nordhausen, Germany

■ Sachsenhausen, Germ., 1938

Singer, Martin

1906

Prievidza, Slovakia

1942

Singer, Samuel

Zagreb, Croatia

Zagreb, Croatia, 1941

Singer, Yakow

1898

Lublin, Poland

Kowel, Poland

Sirota, Gershon

1874

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland, 1943

Sirota, Lejb Yehuda

Koritz, Poland

Koritz, Poland

Sirota, Yisrael

1895

Hotin, Romania

1942

Skorokhod, Meir

Lubny, Ukraine

Skreikus, Pinkhas

1886

Novy Bohumin, Czech

. Poland, 1942

Slager, David

1871

Middelharnes, Holland Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Slavni, Eliezer

1899

Sosnowiec, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Slep, Avraham

Wilno, Poland

Slobodiansky, Ber

Rowne, Poland

Slovak, Hilel

1908

Sabatko, Yugoslavia

Ukraine

Smilovitz, Mordekhai Shmuel

1893

Munkacz, Hungary

Buchenwald, Germany, 1945

Smolyar, Kiva

1881

1941

Snarski, Avraham

Bialystok, Poland

Solnik, Moshe Aharon

Nowogrod, Poland

Lomza, Poland

Soloveichik,

Kelm, Lithuania

Kelm, Lithuania, 1941

Soloveichik, Yitzkhak

1894

Lodz, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

Sosnowsky, Makhel Douvid

Lodz, Poland

Spasser, Jakob

1893

Sombor, Yugoslavia

1945

Spigl, Herman

1902

Sid, Yugoslavia

Spiegel, Mihaly

1913

Satmar, Romania

Mathausen, Austria, 1944

Spiegel, Tzvi Elimelekh

Fokto, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Spiewak, Moshe

1904

Dzaloshitz, Poland

Dzaloshitz, Poland

Spier, Hermann

1899

Hildesheim, Germany

Treblinka, Poland, 1943

Spira, Yehuda Leib

1895

Kowno, Lithuania

Wilno, Poland, 1943

Spitzer, Herman Chaim

Kormend, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Spitzer, Isidore

Kolbsheim, France

Spivak, Hamber

Vrsac, Yugoslavia

Topovske, Yugos., 1941

Springer, Adolph

Virivotica, Croatia

Virivotica, Croatia, 1941

Starozinsky, Khaim Aharon

1885

Nemaksciai, Lith.

Nemaksciai, Lith., 1941

Stashevski, Shmuel

1912

Frankfurt amMain, Ge

Stavorovski, Yaakov

1907

Bieniakonie, Poland

Woronowo, Poland, 1942

Stawiski, Hanoch

1895

Lidzbark, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland

Stegman-Shvartz, Shaul

Recklinghausen, Ger.

Lvov, Poland

Stein, Joseph

1914

Gravenhage, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

Stein, Leo

1929

Amsterdam, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Steinbock, Ignaz

1880

Burgkunstatdt, Bav.

Belzec, Poland, 1942

Steiner, Abraham

1900

Papa, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Steiner, Asher Yisrael

1885

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Steinfeld, Lev Bertalan

1898

Budapest, Hungary

Hungary, 1945

Steinmetz, Yechiel

1907

Grosvardein, Romania

Ukraine, 1944

Stern, David

Vakfarkasd, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Stern, Herman

Auschwitz, Poland

Stern, Ichezkel

1879

Hrusov, Moravia

Stern, Jeno Yaakov

1909

Stern, Shmuel

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Stern, Yitzkhak

1870

Somorja, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Stern-Gans, Naftali

1906

Luki, Slovakia

Lublin, Poland, 1941

Sternberg, Yechiel

1897

Leszno, Poland

Rawicz, Poland, 1941

Sternfeld, Ephraim

1877

Berlin, Germany

Theresienstadt, Czech.

Stiller, Rakhmiel

1887

Khislavichi, Russia

Khislavichi, Russia, 1941

Stockhamer, Abraham

Tlumacz, Poland

Stanislaw, Poland, 1942

Stoessler, Arnold

1886

Olmutz, Moravia

Auschwitz, Poland

Stranders, Emil

1917

Amsterdam, Holland

Buchenwald, Germany, 1945

Strassfeld, Moshe

Stanislaw, Poland

Stanislaw, Poland, 1941

Stroh, Abraham

1942

Stupelman, Avrom

Mogilev, Belorus

Mogilev, Belorus, 1942

Sungolovski, Borukh Yitzkhak

1875

Slupca, Poland

Poland, 1943

Sungolovski, Heshil Yehoshua

1906

Slupca, Poland

Tallinn, Estonia, 1943

Sungolovski, Lipman

1912

Slupca, Poland

Poland, 1943

Suss, Beni

St. Poelten, Austria

Sussmann, Gustav Barukh

1892

Elberfeld, Germany

Elberfeld, Germany, 1937

Svartz, Copel

1892

Dorohoi, Moldavia

1942

Szemel, Dawid

1860

Kalisz, Poland

Kalisz, Poland

Szewcynski, Yosef

Riga, Latvia

Szklar, Zeev

Mir, Poland

Mir, Poland, 1940

Szklarz, Isaac

1892

Lodz, Poland

Chelmno, Poland, 1942

Szlajcher, David

1924

Keulen, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Szlingenbaum, Shlima

1900

Inowroclaw, Poland

Sompolno, Poland, 1942

T

Tabak, Levi

1896

Rosavlia, Romania

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Taksar, Sendor

1865

Volochisk, Ukraine

Volochisk, Ukraine, 1941

Tashlitzki, Shlomo

Budapest, Hungary

Budapest, Hungary

Taub, Eliezer Yoseph

1901

Moseu, Romania

Taub, Jecheskel Schrage

Senica, Slovakia

Poland, 1942

Teblowicz,

Liegnitz, Germany

Tedeschi, Gino

Firenze, Italy

Auschwitz, Poland, 1945

Teichman, Moshe

1890

Krakow, Poland

Poland, 1942

Teikhman, Moshe

Radom, Poland

Radom, Poland, 1944

Tenenbaum, Yisaskhar

Radomsko, Poland

1942

Tennen, Victor Chaim

1880

Budapest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Teper, Moshe

1895

Odessa, Ukraine

Odessa, Ukraine, 1942

Tirer, Aharon Zelig

Dorohoi, Romania

Dorohoi, Romania

Tirer, Haim

Darabani, Romania

Tropova, Ukraine

Tkatsch, Yisrael

Budapest

Tobolski, Moshe

1910

Skidel, Poland

Tobovitz, Eliezer Liber

Topolcany, Slovakia

1944

Topper, Tzvi Hersh

Novy Sacz, Poland

1943

Topper, Yaakov

Breslau, Germany

Poland

Traub, Ladislav Mordekhai

1911

Pressburg, Slovakia

Majdanek, Poland, 1943

Triger, Yoel Leib

1900

Sharlerau, Belgium

Tropper, Salomon

1863

Berlin, Germany

Tsipris, Yefim Khaim

Kishinev, Bessarabia

Bessarabia, Romania

Tsitrinesh,

Lukow, Poland

Tugendhaft, Asher

1887

Duesseldorf, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland

Turk, Hersh Tzvi
Tuvshtein, Yosef
Tzeikhner, Aharon
Tzibul, Beniamin
Tzim, David Elimelekh
Tzipris, Yankel
Tzitrinash, Yehuda
Tzukerman, David
Tzukerman, Kalman

Treblinka, Poland, 1942
Czernowitz, Bukovenia
1896 Breb, Romania Breb, Romania, 1944

Auschwitz, Poland
1890 Kishinev, Bessarabia Kishinev, Bessarabia, 1941
1874 Lutzk, Poland Lutzk, Poland

1874 Sanok, Poland
Uscziki, Poland

u

Umedman, Moshe
Unger, Shmuel
Unger, Yosef
Unger, Yosef
Urbakh, Herschel
Usiatinski, Leib
Uvich, Mod

Ataki, Bessarabia

Ukraine

1908

Wierzbnik, Poland

Treblinka, Poland, 1942

1895

Stopnica, Poland

1900

Zawercie, Poland

Bergen, Germany, 1944

Lutotow, Poland

Lodz, Poland, 1941

1878

Lipovets, Ukraine

Lipovets, Ukraine

1893

Szeged, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Vainberger, Shmuel Tzvi

Vais, Yitzkhak

Vaisleder, Shlomo

Vaisleder, Yomen

Vaks, Shaul

Valetzky, Shmuel

Van Amerongen, Samuel

Van der Horst, Michael

Van Frank, Amman

Van Weerden, Paul

Van Zwaanenburgh, Natan

Vaze, Misa

Vedro, Berl

Veg, Izidor

Veiner, Peter

Veinfeld, Khaim Shmuel

Veis, Herman

Veis, Shimon Ozer

Veksler, Kupul

Veksler, Moshe

Velichkin, Abram

Vider, Yecheskel

Vigdorovich, Yakov

Vigman, Abram

Vilkanski, Shaul Yehuda

Vilner, Zelik

1880
1870
1923
1922
1922
1910
1913
1880
1883
1913
1887

Gyula, Hungary
Lublin, Poland
Lublin, Poland
Mala Bagachivka, Ukr. Korchovla, Poland, 1942

Zuromin, Poland
Naarden, Holland
Gravenhage, Holland
Haarlem, Holland
Antwerp, Belgium
Amsterdam, Holland
Druzhkopol, Poland
Vakhnovka, Ukraine
Antwerp, Belgium
Odessa, Ukraine
Wlodawa, Poland
Sombor, Yugoslavia
Czechoslovakia
Minsk, Belorus
Czernowitz, Bukovenif
Leningrad, Russia
rda, Hungary

1942

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942
Central Europe, 1943
Siegburg, Germany, 1943
Sobibor, Poland, 1943
Druzhkopol, Poland
Vakhnovka, Ukraine, 1943
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942
Odessa, Ukraine
Rowna, Poland
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944
Germany, 1945

i, Ukr.,

a Transnistria, Ukr., 1943
Leningrad, Russia
Poland
Vilkovishki, Lithuania Vilkovishki, Lithuania, 1941
Korzec, Poland Korzec, Poland

Czechanowiec, Poland Treblinka, Poland
Koszylowce, Poland Koszylowce, Poland, 1941

182

Vinkler, Pinkhas
Vital, Meir
Vgel, Dragutin
Vogel, Karoly
Vogel, Leopold
Voiczik, Mane Eliezer
Volf, Khaim Barukh
Volner, Aharon
Volovski, Noakh

r, Hungary
Corfu, Greece
Zagreb, Croatia
Ujpest, Hungary
Duesseldorf, Germany
1894 Ponevezh, Lithuania
1892 Nowy Sacz, Poland
1913 Warsaw, Poland
1890 Poland

1915

1901

Bergen-Belsen, Germany

Zagreb, Croatia, 1941

Minsk, Belorus
Ponevezh, Lithuania, 1941
Auschwitz, Poland, 1942
Treblinka, Poland
Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

w

linfeld, Khaim

1940

linriber, Moshe

1886

Markuszow, Poland

Alempin, Poland, 1942

linshtein, Avraham Yitzkhak 1914

Gluboka, Czech.

Gluboka, Czech., 1942

lisbort, Moshe

1891

Wisokie, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

lis, Abram Isachar

1887

Katowice, Poland

Rzeszow, Poland, 1943

1895

Nowy Targ, Poland

liser, David

Balta, Ukraine

1940

lizer, Pinkhas

1878

Budapest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

ild, David

1895

Marosvasarhely, Rom.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

ild, Yosef

1909

Szatmarnemeti, Rom.

1945

ildmann, Aron

1905

Berlin, Germany

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

ilecki, Shmuel

1889

Zuromin, Poland

Treblinka, Poland

iller, Barukh Khaim

1900

lit, Abram

1926

Warsaw, Poland

Warsaw, Poland, 1941

liter, Moshe

1900

Grosvardein, Romania

Grosvardein, Romania

mschow, Mozes

1920

Amsterdam, Holland

Grosvardein, Poland, 1943

;ber, Eliyahu

1879

Budapest, Hungary

;berman, Avraham

1918

Chodel, Poland

Warsaw, Poland, 1943

;chsler, Jakob

1890

Karlsruhe, Germany

Les Milles, France

;chselman, Erhard E.

Vienna, Austria

Auschwitz, Poland

;ijl, Juda

1920

Rotterdam, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

;inberg, Yosef

1914

;inberger, Gershon Meir

1900

Ungvar, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

;ineger, Meier

1929

Gravenhage, Holland

Sobibor, Poland, 1943

jinreb, Heinrich

1927

Amsterdam, Holland

Buchenwald, Germany, 1945

;instein,

David-Horodok, Pol.

David-Horodok, Pol, 1941

;instein, Berl

1906

Galanta, Slovakia

Poland

;instein, Yitzkhak

Lvov, Poland

;is, Avraham Simkha

1907

Munkacs, Czech.

;is, Isakhar Ber-Dov

1913

Grosvardein, Rom.

1895

Povazska Bystrica, Cz.

Auschwitz, Poland

;is, Samuel

1880

Debrecen, Hungary

1945

;iser, Mordechai Chaim

1906

Munkacs, Czech.

Ukraine, 1942

;isman, David

1895

1944

;isman, Josip

Zagreb, Croatia

Zagreb, Croatia, 1941

Weiss, Alexander

Yugoslavia

1941

Weiss, Leo

1906

Slovakia, Czech.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Weiss, Pinkhas

1906

Liepaja, Latvia

Belzec, Poland

Weiss, Shmuel

Debrecen, Hungary

Austria, 1945

Weiss, Yaakov

1888

Sarajevo, Bosnia

Yugoslavia, 1941

Weissmann, David

Vienna, Austria

Weisz, Haim Yisrael

Janoshaza, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Weisz, Hilel

1896

Miszkolc, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Weisz, Natan

1910

Mezokovesd, Hungary

Mathausen, Austria, 1945

Weisz, Sandor

1883

Arad, Romania

Arad, Romania, 1944

Weitzman, Israelke

1870

Staszow, Poland

Staszow, Poland, 1942

Weiz, Lipot

Cluj, Romania

Wider, Adolf

1890

Dachau, Bavaria, 1944

Wider, Avraham

1912

Hajdananasz, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Wider, Bubi

1907

Wagehei, Hungary

Yugoslavia, 1944

Wider, Moshe Shalom

1916

Hajdananasz, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Wieder, Asher

Hajdananasz, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Wieder, Avraham

1885

Nove Mesto Nad, Cz.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Wieder, Yekutiel

1890

Michalovce, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland

Wieder, Zalman Leib

Michalovce, Slovakia

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Wiener, Avraham Dov

1902

Dobra, Poland

Lodz, Poland,

Wiener, Yeruchim

1879

Tarnow, Poland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Wiesel, Mordekhai Tzvi

1889

Debrecen, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Wiesner, Shlomo

Ujhely, Hungary

Winer, Shlomo

1903

Winik, Shlomo

1906

Bekas, Romania

Kishinev, Bessarabia, 1941

Winkler, Pinkhas

1885

Sarvar, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland

Winkler, Yekhezkel

1902

Alsozsolca, Hungary

1944

Winograd, Eizer

1889

Lodz, Poland

Lodz, Poland

Winzelberg, Alter

Ciezkowice, Poland

1941

Witteboon, Samuel

1914

Amsterdam, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Witenek, Yoel

Bucharest, Romania

Bucharest, Romania, 1941

Wittenberg, Alter

1903

Augustow, Poland

Woletzki, Shmuel

1870

Zuromin, Poland

1942

Wolf, Avraham

1920

Warsaw, Poland

Majdanek, Poland, 1942

Wolff, Ahron

1893

Brieg, Germany

Wolff, Georg

Hamburg, Germany

Riga, Latvia, 1941

Wolfson, David Beni

1893

Fuerstenfeldbruck, Ger., 1945

Wolkenfeld, Ignatz

Emden, Germany

Warsaw, Poland, 1942

Wolocki, Eliyahu

1880

Bialystok, Poland

Workum, Henri

1922

Amsterdam, Holland

Germany, 1945

Wulfovitz, Eliezer

1904

Wilkowyszky, Lith.

Wilkowyszky, Lithuania, 1942

Wultz, Julius Yehuda

1883

Bekescsaba, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Wuerzburger, Siegfried

1877

Frankfurt amMain, Ger. Lodz, Poland, 1942

Wurdiger, Aharon

Budapest, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Y

Yakubovitz, Eliezer
Yakubovitz, Yaakov Ber
Yezerski, Zyama
YoIIes, Barukh

Petrovgrad, Yugoslavia Beckerek, Yugoslavia

Lutotow, Poland Poland

1865 Gomel, Belorus Gomel, Belorus, 1941

Sambor, Poland Belzec, Poland, 1943

Zaks, Hershel

1908

Tuchin, Poland

Tuchin, Poland, 1942

Zaks, Yitzkhak

Lodz, Poland

Zalberman, Simon

1862

Berlin, Germany

Zaltzman, Shmuel

1900

Krasznik, Poland

Krasznik, Poland

Zaretzki, Avraham

1883

Lachwa, Poland

Novigrod, Poland, 1942

Zdrojewicz, Leib Zelig

1870

Nowogrod, Poland

Bialystok, 1942

Zef, Aba

Lazdei, Lithuania

Lazdei, Lithuania, 1941

Zeisler, Mendel

Antwerp, Belgium

Zelazny, Binyamin

Bergen-Belsen, Ger., 1945

Zeldin, Avraham

1907

Marculesti, Bessarabia

Marculesti, Bessarabia, 1941

Zelewski, David

Kolo, Poland

Zeligman, Yosef

1902

Silale, Lithuania

Silale, Lithuania, 1941

Zelkovitz, Yitzkhak Mordekhai

Sulejow, Poland

Zeltzer, Max

1872

Hungary

Zeltzer, Meir

1890

Oszmiana, Poland,

Zeltser, Sandor

1910

Szombathely, Hungary

Russia, 1942

Zeltzer, Yitzkhak

1893

Soroksar, Hungary

Auschwitz, Poland, 1944

Ziegel, Pinkas

1888

Hamburg, Germany

Stanislaw, Poland, 1941

Zinger, Yaakov

1891

Lublin, Poland

Ziserman, Shmilek

1852

Slavuta, Ukraine

Slavuta, Ukraine, 1942

Zladukowski, Eliyahu

1888

1942

Zomer, Itzik

1880

Skole, Poland

Stanislaw, Poland, 1942

Zorman, Leib

1875

Kishinev, Bessarabia

Fergana, Uzbekistan, 1943

Zukerman, Zyshe

1880

Leczna, Poland

Majdanek, Poland, 1941

Zusman, Barukh Gustav

Wuppertal, Germany

Zwart, Juda

1928

Purmerend, Holland

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942

Zwerling, Dov Ber

1914

Auschwitz, Poland, 1943

Akhein atah eil mistateir
Meditation on the Shoah

Text: Isaiah 45: 15

With devotion

Music: Aaron Blumenfeld
Songs of Supplication, 2010, no. 11

Truly, you are a God Who hides Yourself

This selection is reprinted with permission. For information on the entire collec-
tion, contact the composer, Aaron Blumenfeld, at < < gilow(a)netzero.com > >—or
visit his website, aarons-world.com— to hear samples of his music.

A Mediterranean Touch at Mid-
Century: Berele Chagy (1892-1954)

Gleaned from many sources

When the State of Israel— first flowering of the
Jewish people's redemption — burst forth in May
of 1948, Hazzan Berele Chagy was nearing the age
of sixty and his once-bright tenor had lost its edge.
But the prevalent opinion among synagogue co-
gnoscenti was that he more than made up for it by
varying his vocal quality to suit any given mood. So
much so, that his rabbi at Temple Beth El of Borough
Park in New York, Israel Schorr, used to address
him with the blessing, Zokheir ha-b'rit — "Blessed
is the One Who remembers the Covenant" — the
variegated colors of Chagy 's heymishe daven'n resembled nothing so much
as those of a rainbow (another meaning of b'rit). Rabbi Schorr once char-
acterized Chagy 's successor in Borough Park — Moshe Koussevitzky — as
"demanding answers," whereas Berele "asked questions, he had a poignant
quality about him." Both of these legendary cantors took a Jovian stance that
typified mid-20th century hazzanut. The very best cantorial recitatives of this
period "expressed universal uncertainties," asserts Itzik Gottesman, Culture
critic for the Yiddish Forward. 1

Shortly after being appointed as Hazzan-designate of Temple Beth El,
Moshe Koussevitzky was invited to sing at Berele Chagy 's Retirement Dinner.
He performed Israel Schorr's She-yibaneh beit ha-mikdash ("May the Temple
be Rebuilt"), a composition that he had popularized through recordings and
countless performances in Europe, the United States and Israel. When the
applause died down, Chagy rose slowly from his seat. "Would it be alright if
I 'said' something, also?" he asked. The attendees, who knew how sick he was
at the time and were afraid that singing would aggravate his condition, tried

1 Itzik Gottesman, "Steven Gi
6-12, 2010.

; Devotional Creations," Forward, August

to dissuade him. Undeterred, Chagy proceeded to chant the fourth paragraph
from Grace after Meals, Raheim na ("Have mercy on Your People"), so mag-
nificently that it simply stunned the entire assemblage.

Chagy 's colleagues in the Khazonim farband (Jewish Ministers Cantors
Association of America) elected him Treasurer, as had the South African
Cantors' Association in 1937, while he held a position in Johannesburg.
They also instinctively turned to him when problems arose. Once, during
a Khazonim Farband concert at the old Metropolitan Opera House on 39 th
Street in Manhattan, a programming mix-up led to such raucous disagree-
ment backstage that proceedings ground to an embarrassing halt. After about
fifteen minutes of nothing happening, people in the audience were ready
to start a riot. The Farband's President at the time, Moshe Erstling, begged
Chagy to go out front and try to mitigate the damage. He did so, and with
his usual quiet reserve sang a Tikanta shabbat ("You Ordained the Sabbath")
that brought down the house. 2

The poet Chaim Nachman Bialik would have loved Chagy 's understated
Weekday Minhah, at which he excelled. In fact, his artistry first blossomed
in his later years when the voice darkened, and a simple trill in mid-range
achieved a greater effect than his brilliant youthful top notes ever had. When
davening he typically stood at the Amud closed-eyed and weeping. So did
those whom he led in prayer. His last compositions, narrower in compass
and shorter in length than earlier ones like Mi she-asah nisim ("The One
Who Wrought Miracles"), are eminently suitable for today's cantors and their
impatient congregants.

Although he never visited the State of Israel, as his career drew near its
close, Berele Chagy was increasingly influenced by the Middle Eastern turns
of phrase that were being adopted by Jewish composers of the so-called 'Medi-
terranean' School. The brief melodic refrains he began to sprinkle throughout
his habitual prayer at the Amud attested to this— V'eineinu tir'enah ("May
We Witness Your Kingdom") in the Shaharit Kedushah, and Hal'lu et adonai
("All Nations Praise God") in the Hallel exemplified the style. So, too, did the
wide-open tone devoid of vibrato that he used when singing them, evoca-
tive of a shepherd's call echoing through the Hills of Judah and Ephraim.
He included two selections based on Yemenite tunes in his retrospective 78
r.p.m. album for Stinson Records (1950), arranged by Julius Chajes: Yah adir
("Mighty God on High"), and Adarim ("Mountain Flocks").

2 The Journal is indebted to former CA president Chaim Najman for this anec-
dote, told to him by his father.

Back in 1918 when the British government had declared its intention of
allowing Jews to resettle and rebuild Palestine, Chagy had translated the He-
brew epic poem, Hatikvah ("The Hope"), into idiomatic Yiddish. Then, Great
Britain reneged on its promise and shut down all Jewish immigration. After
the Holocaust, Chagy relied no longer upon secular Zionist hymns. Instead,
he turned a prayer from Weekday Ma'ariv — Yir'u eineinu ("Let Our Eyes Be-
hold Your Return to Zion")— into a quasi-national anthem. So convincingly
Mediterranean-sounding is his recording of the piece and so imbued with a
feeling of national uplift that, according to cantorial chronicler Akiva Zim-
mermann, Israelis rise from their seats whenever they sing Chagy 's setting
of this prayer. Of particular note is the way Chagy tone-painted the words

be-emor I'-tsiyon, malakh elohayikh—

"Say unto Zion: "Your God truly reigns!"

Text: Daily Ma'ariv Liturgy

Yir'u eineinu

Music: Berele Chagy
Piano: Charles Heller

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"The Lion in the Pack": Israel Alter
(1901-1979)

Gleaned from many sources

Born in Lvov (Yiddish: Lemberg) in Western
Ukraine, Israel Alter studied with notable
teachers. He began his career at Vienna's
Brigittenauer Tempel-Verein when he was
twenty years old. In 1925 he moved to
Hannover, Germany, where he remained
for ten years before leaving during the Nazi
era to become cantor of the United Hebrew
Congregation in Johannesburg, South Africa.
He emigrated to the United States in 1961 and
was appointed to the faculty of the School
of Sacred Music at Hebrew Union College-
Jewish Institute of Religion, in New York City 1

By the time Israel Alter began teaching at the School of Sacred Music in
the early 1960s his vocally active years were as a vanished dream, the voice
itself but a passing shadow. Prior to that, the only recordings of Alter 's that
were available in the United States featured works mostly by Sulzer and
Lewandowski, stylistically a world apart from the emotional improvisatory
hazzanut in a minor mode that had wide appeal among a guilt-ridden North
American Jewry after the senseless destruction of its European counterpart. 2
Alter was born within two decades of Sulzer's and Lewandowski's deaths, in
their shadow, so to speak. He considered those two 19 th -century giants the
living proof of Noah's blessing to his sons in Genesis chapter 9: Yaft elohim
I'yefet v'-yishkon b'oholei shem ("Let the beauty of Aryan nations dwell in the
tents of Semitic peoples").

In pursuit of that goal, Alter extracted thematic inspiration from emotion-
ally-driven prayer— T'fillat ha-regesh— and reshaped it along lines that would
prove aesthetically acceptable in the temples of Vienna and Hannover. He
delved into the grammatical structure of liturgical poetry and analyzed prayer

1 After Velvel Pasternak & Noah Schall, The Golden Age of Cantors (New York:
Tara), 1991: 15; Biographical Sketches with Irene Heskes.

2 Joseph A. Levine, Rise and Be Seated (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson), 2001:
221f.

194

from a philosophical viewpoint until he could rationalize whatever musical
reference he might quote to better bring out the meaning of the words.

If that was not exactly T'fillat ha-seider— intellectually-driven prayer — it
should certainly qualify as yet a third category: T'fillat ha-seifer ("literarily-
driven prayer"). Alter was a yodei'a seifer, an extremely learned individual
from a truly scholarly rabbinic family. Due to his encyclopedic knowledge he
inevitably borrowed other people's ideas, often without realizing it. A case in
point: Dani'eil ish hamudot ("Your Greatly Beloved Daniel"), a text from the
S'lihot section of Yom Kippur Eve, whose published setting originated with
Alter 's revered teacher, Yehudah Leib Miller of Vienna and later of Haifa and
Jerusalem. No one who knew him would ever accuse Israel Alter of willful
plagiarism. Yet he sat on a committee that published Miller's composition
as part of a posthumous collection in Johannesburg, 1949. Three years later
he issued his own reworking of Miller's composition. In fact, the piece had
circulated orally, for years. As if to prove its widespread familiarity, in 1958
Sholom Katz recorded a third version using the same musical ideas, without
crediting Miller. 3

The reverse is true as well. In 1931 Israel Alter- then Chief Cantor of Han-
nover-embarked on a joint tour of Western European cities with Moshe
Koussevitzky, Chief Cantor of Warsaw, in which they officiated alternately
at services on Friday night and Shabbat morning. If Koussevitzky davened
Kabbalat Shabbat, Alter did the honors for Ma'ariv; the following morning
they would reverse the order for Shaharit and Musaf. Every weekend would
culminate in a shared Sunday Evening recital that left critics searching for
superlatives. One reviewer in Rotterdam wrote, "It is difficult to choose be-
tween them or to prefer one over the other; each has his own strengths and is
in every way infinitely superior to any other cantor now before the European
public." Another critic referred to Alter 's voice as "the roar of a lion," and to
Koussevitzky 's as "an eternally bubbling spring." 4

Koussevitzky 's strength lay in his soaring interpretations of others' musical
inspiration, Avraham Moshe Bernstein's Adonai adonai being one of his early
triumphs. Alter 's forte was in the shaping of hazzanic recitatives according
to theological ideas expressed in classical rabbinic prayer texts known as

3 KolNidreand Yom Kippur Service Highlights, Cantor Sholom Katz, Choir of
Chizuk Amuno Congregation, Baltimore, Conducted by Hugo Weisgall, Westminster
Hi-Fi LP XWN 18858, 1958: side 2, track 7

4 Translated from uncaptioned clippings in Dutch and Yiddish, from an Alter
family scrapbook in possession of Alters nephew, Cantor Benjamin Z. Maissner of
Holy Blossom Temple in Toronto, Canada.

195

ma'amareihd'zd'l (Sayings by Our Sages, of Blessed Memory). It was a match
made in cantorial heaven. Alter 's setting of the first Mishnah in chapter three
of tractate Avot-Akavya ben mahalal'eil omeir ("Akavya, son of Mahalaleil,
said: 'Consider three things and you will avoid sinning"')-became a calling
card of his friend and touring partner, Moshe Koussevitzky. So convincingly
does it conjure up the world of the East European belt medrash (study hall)
that people rarely associate it with its actual composer: Israel Alter — the great
Oberkantor of more westerly Jewish communities in Hannover, Germany and
Johannesburg, South Africa.

We know better. We also know that the setting oiSh'ma koleinu ("Hear Our
Cry") composed by Alter for a series of complete services for the annual litur-
gical cycle, commissioned and published by the Cantors Assembly between
1966 and 1971, is the product of his own musical and scholarly imagination.
His immensely powerful voice was a force of nature. His creative impulse was
best described by researcher and lecturer Akiva Zimmermann, paraphrasing
a verse from the Hoshanot section recited on Hoshana Rabbah:

Ha-m'lameid torah b'khol k'lei shir

Who taught Torah through every musical instrument. 5
Alters musical Torah she-bikhtav ("Written Law") consisted of his undy-
ing compositions; it is taught as Torah she-b'al-peh ("Oral Law") every time
a hazzan chants a masterful prayer-setting of his, such as Sh'ma koleinu:

Hashiveinu adonai eilekha v'nashuvah, hadeish yameinu k'kedem

Turn us unto You, O God, and we shall return,

Renew our days as of old.

5 Akiva Zimmermann, "The Life and Music of Israel Alter, Commemorating
the 100 th Anniversary of His Birth," Proceedings of the 54 th Annual Cantors Assembly
Convention, Ellenville, NY, 2001: 70.

Sh'ma koleinu

Music: After Israel Alter

The Selihot Service

(Cantors Assembly, 1966)

Centennial Memories of My Father,
Cantor David Kusevitsky
(1911-1985)

By Valerie Kusevitsky Leibler

Our story begins in the early years of the last cen-
tury in the small town of Smorgon, Lithuania, a
suburb of Vilna, where Avigdor and Alte Koussev-
itzky lived with their four sons: Moshe, the eldest,
followed by Jacob, Simcha, and the baby, my father
David. There are no Jews in Smorgon today, but up
until World War I, the vast majority of its inhabit-
ants were Jewish-8,000 out of a total population
of 10,000— and many noted Torah scholars, poets,
and writers were born there.

Music was a very important part of the Kous-
sevitzky heritage. Avigdor, my grandfather, was
an amateur violinist, and my grandmother, Alte, came from a family of can-
tors. The household was filled with musical instruments-from guitars to
mandolins— and each brother had his own violin. Their musical ability was
such that they could just pick up an instrument, and soon be playing it well.

Life in Smorgon was uneventful until the outbreak of World War I, when
Russian and German troops took turns ravaging the town and wreaking
havoc on its inhabitants. To escape the invaders, the family fled to Minsk,
from there to the borders of Siberia, and finally to Rostov-on-Don, where
they settled for the remainder of the war. My father told me of how the family
would arrive at a train station, and wait-sometimes for a day or two or even
three— drinking endless cups of tea, until a train would arrive to take them to
their next destination. It was the grave responsibility of my father, then three
years old, to hold onto the sugar bowl throughout their travels.

In Rostov, the family settled down. The three older brothers sang in syna-
gogue choirs, while David, at age six already a talented violinist, attended the
local Jewish school and music conservatory. Inl921, after the Russian Revolu-
tion, the family returned briefly to Smorgon, and then settled in Vilna.

How did the brothers become hazzanim? There were no cantorial schools,
no master classes in nusah and liturgy. They absorbed it because it was in
the air they breathed. It was all around them-whether praying in shul or

listening to itinerant hazzanim or to the 10-inch records then popular-they
were privy to a liturgy that passed from father to son, brother to brother.
Nowadays, singers with a voice quality comparable to those possessed by the
four Koussevitsky brothers would find a home at the Metropolitan Opera,
but in the Poland of their youth, the natural venue for their talent was the
rich tradition of the synagogue.

When oldest brother Moshe was engaged as a first tenor at the Tohoras
hakkodesh Synagogue in Vilna, he brought along his little brother David, age
twelve, to be the alto soloist. (In those days, of course, choirs were all male, as
they continue to be in Orthodox shuls today; the soprano and alto parts were
sung by young boys.) When Moshe was appointed Chief Cantor of Vilna's
Great Synagogue, again my father moved with him, and soon he found himself
conducting whenever its director — who was also Hazzan sheini — led services.

In the meantime, my father's skills as a musician were becoming well
known in the Vilna community. At thirteen he was transcribing music for
local hazzanim. Often there would be a knock at the door, where a hazzan
stood, asking diffidently: "Is Dovid there?" He'd pull out a piece of music, and
say to my father-"Please teach this to me," and my father would sit down and
patiently work with the individual until he knew the music.

My mother often said she would have loved to know my father as a young-
ster, because he seems to have been an unusually precocious child.

When brother Jacob became the hazzan of the synagogue in Krimenitz, he
sent for my father to conduct his choir and to coach him in the nuances of
nusah. And when brother Simcha became the hazzan of Rovno, he requested
that Jacob release my father, who then became choir leader for Simcha's
shul.

But all this was interrupted when at age nineteen my father was drafted
into the Polish army. His brothers, through various machinations and sub-
terfuges, had managed to avoid serving in the army, but my father had no
such options available.

However, where David went, music always followed. By chance, soon after
his conscription, a Polish lieutenant noticed in my father's papers that he was
a musician, and invited him to start a choir. My father jumped at the chance,
and formed a hundred-voice chorus-mostly Gentile, but including as many
Jews as he could find. The lieutenant introduced him to Church melodies,
which my father transcribed and arranged for male chorus. He also managed
to finagle a field trip to Warsaw, to buy the sheet music for Polish folk songs.

The Army chorus created a name for itself in the area, both for its extensive
repertoire and for its beautiful sound quality. And, more importantly, my
father made sure to schedule an important rehearsal whenever it was time
for a long march or other army maneuvers. By this ingenious ploy, he avoided
the worst aspects of army life.

His crowning moment came when, in front of the entire regiment, the
general appeared, and to the awe of everyone present, shook my father's
hand. This was apparently a monumental occurrence, given the usual distance
between governmental figures and the Jews. The physical recognition in the
form of a handshake by the general was a true measure of my father's worth.
At the end of a year, he was sent to officer's school, while continuing to lead
his chorus. He was discharged six months later as a lieutenant, despite never
having done anything remotely soldierly.

After his army experience, David joined his parents in Warsaw, where his
brother Moshe was now the hazzan at the aristocratic Tlomackie Synagogue,
one of the largest and most beautiful in the world. Tragically, it would be
bombed to the ground during World War II. In Warsaw, Moshe began to
recognize my father's vocal talent, and encouraged him to develop his voice
in order to pursue a career as a cantor instead of a choir leader; he told him:
"Your future lies in your throat, not in your hands."

Thus began my father's career as a cantor. At the age of 23 he was engaged
to daven for the High Holidays in Lemberg (today Lvov). The publicity was
tremendous, as the many Yiddish newspapers that circulated throughout
Poland carried news of the event. My father's cantorial debut took place in
the local Philharmonic Hall and was attended by 2,500 people. Afterwards,
invitations to daven came pouring in. He accepted a post in Rovno, officiat-
ing for the first time on Shabbat hag-gadol, 1935. He davened twice a month,
and tickets were sold for every Shabbat that he officiated. Word of the new
hazzan reached as far as London, where the Hendon Synagogue offered him
a position.

His brothers Jacob and Simcha, as well as his mother, had already migrated
to London, and with their encouragement, he left Poland without much regret,
arriving in London in 1937. Hindsight proved it to be a very wise decision-he
was saved from the fate of his fellow Jews in Poland. London was also where
he met and married my mother, Patricia, and where my younger sister Elaine
and I were born.

As it turned out, the only brother to remain in Poland on the eve of World
War II was my uncle Moshe. During the 1 930s his fame had spread throughout

the Jewish world, and he had sung to great acclaim throughout Europe, the
United States, and what was then known as Palestine

Although many opportunities occurred for him to leave his homeland
permanently, he decided to fulfill his contractual obligations. When the
Germans invaded Poland in September of 1939, Moshe and his wife and
children managed to escape the bombarded city of Warsaw right after the
High Holidays (whose services Moshe led in the darkened basement of the
Tlomackie complex) and ended up in Bialystok, then under Russian control.
Trapped in Russia, he was forced by the Soviets to spend the war years in
Tblisi, Georgia, entertaining the troops, singing opera and Russian folk songs.
Though a difficult time for him, it proved infinitely better than what might
have been.

Only after the war was he reunited with his wife and children, and slowly
they made their way back to Warsaw. When, with enormous relief, his broth-
ers finally heard that he was alive, they made arrangements to bring him and
his family to London. Although I was then a very small child, I still remem-
ber the great excitement of his arrival, and the great joy of his reunion with
his mother and brothers. They stayed with us in our apartment for several
months, holding court in our living room— which my mother, pregnant with
my sister, never let my father forget. Moshe had arrived without a single sheet
of music, and so my father sat day and night reconstructing Moshe's entire
synagogue and concert-stage repertoire from memory.

Six months later, after performing extensively all over the British Isles,
Moshe and family left for America, and a few years afterwards, it was our
turn. My father received an offer from Temple Emanu-El in the Borough Park
section of Brooklyn, NY after a congregant, the merchant Simon Ackerman,
heard him daven in London.

And so, after much soul-searching, and many tears on the part of my
English-born mother, we sailed into New York Harbor aboard the HMS Queen
Elizabeth to embark on a new stage in our lives in March of 1949.

Growing up in Borough Park in the 1950s, I caught a glimpse of what it
must have been like to live in a shtetl in pre- War Poland. In those days, by the
way, the neighborhood was not yet the bastion of Hasidism that it is today. I
would venture to guess that half the population consisted of Polish and Rus-
sian immigrants. There was also, of course, a smattering of American-born
Jews who had lived in Borough Park since the days when most of the area had
been farmland. But the overwhelming majority had one thing in common:

they were shul goers who had come from traditional backgrounds, and many
were surprisingly well- versed in the art of hazzanut.

Our synagogue, Temple Emanu-El, a magnificent edifice in Georgian style,
was Conservative. Around the corner stood the Young Israel, two blocks away
was Temple Beth-El — the major Orthodox shul in the neighborhood, where
my Uncle Moshe was cantor— and down 14 th Avenue the Sephardic shul was
situated a few blocks away. Surrounding them were many smaller shuls of
varying shapes and sizes.

Temple Emanu-El was very large, with a balcony that wrapped around
three sides-it held more people than most synagogues. When my father
davened, which was usually twice a month, the shul was always completely
full. Yet his voice, while sweet and lyrical, soared to the furthest reaches of the
shul and beyond. He always davened with a choir, composed of eight mixed
voices-augmented even more for the High Holidays. During my adolescence
it was led by Herman Zalis, who had been a student of Rimsky-Korsakoff
and supervised orchestrations for RCA. My father always said the davening
resembled what he had done in Poland, for he sang all the same classical
cantorial compositions. In England, however, the davening had been much
more restricted, limited to the tradition of Central Europe.

I have met so many people over the years who told me of walking many
miles on Shabbat morning so that they could hear my father daven, and
what they talked about was not only his beautiful voice, but about the depth
of feeling he expressed, and the great spiritual, almost divine inspiration he
evoked within his fellow daveners. For all who were present, especially on
the High Holidays, it was a deeply moving experience. His interpretation of
the familiar prayers bound together all the members of the congregation in a
soul-stirring catharsis of emotion. And while my father was singularly adept
at simple, straightforward davening, with keen awareness of articulation,
diction, and Hebrew grammar, he delighted in giving the congregation what
they really wanted-piece after piece of soaring liturgical music for cantor and
choir. Notwithstanding, there were never any theatrics or histrionics in his
prayer, which he always imbued with an innate sense of dignity and elegance.

Services on Shabbat of Rosh Hodesh could last until 1:30 or 2 o'clock with
no one looking impatiently at his or her watch; no one, except we children
(my sister, my two brothers and I), complaining about standing for half an
hour during his signature Kedushah. Rosh Hashanah services went on until
2 or 2:30. But we were luckier than those attending my uncle Moshe's shul,
where services ended after 3 RM.

Our shul had no air-conditioning, and so in the warmer months the windows
were always wide open, to the delight of those outside. Services at the adjoin-
ing Modern Orthodox Young Israel Synagogue ended at a more reasonable
hour, after which crowds of people would gather on the sidewalk along the
49 th Street side of Temple Emanuel to listen outside, while the more liberal
among them would actually come inside.

S'lihot night, tickets were sold, and hordes of people from all over the city
would throng to the shul, until they were practically hanging from the rafters.
Our service started at 10 P.M., and when it was over, many in the crowd would
walk the two blocks to my uncle's shul — where services started at midnight — so
that they could buy tickets to catch the second show.

At the conclusion of services on Shabbat, a crowd of neighborhood people
stood waiting for the opportunity to share a few words with the hazzan. Our
house was just a few blocks away, but it would take us anywhere from a half-
hour to 45 minutes to get home, because every few steps someone waited to
greet him. I've heard that some of the young women from the neighborhood
would get word that he was approaching, and rush outside their homes, hoping
for a smile or a quiet 'Good Shabbos' from the hazzan. Often people would
follow us all the way home, where my mother, always the gracious hostess,
would feel obliged to invite them in for Kiddush. Needless to say, lunch was
always a late one on Shabbos.

David and Moshe were well-known far beyond the borders of Borough
Park or even New York. They concertized across the United States, and in-
deed, throughout the world, traveling to distant places from South America
to South Africa, and both made many, many trips to sing in Israel. Always,
they were greeted with great acclaim, and none of the fans were more fervent
than their lantslayt from Poland.

When Jack and I were married, our wedding was the talk of the town for
months, but not for the usual reasons. True, the loving young couple was
adorable, the flowers beautiful, and the meal delicious. But what the guests
remembered most fondly was the magnificent ceremony performed by my
Uncle Moshe, complete with full choir. The piece de resistance was the exuber-
ant performance oiSheva b'rakhot at the conclusion of the reception, by my
father, ending with the two brothers singing and dancing upon the head table.

But perhaps my most poignant memory is of the time when all four broth-
ers appeared together at an historic concert at Carnegie Hall. My Uncle Jack
arrived from Winnipeg, and my Uncle Simcha journeyed all the way from
South Africa, and they got together for a performance that was the most

memorable of that era of hazzanut. (And if you believe all the people who
said they were there, more people saw this performance than saw Yankee
pitcher Don Larsen's perfect game and slugger Roger Maris' 61 st home run.)
In any case, the concert was thrilling beyond words.

In my mind's eye as I recall that magical time, I see myself as a child curled
up unobtrusively in a corner of the couch in our living room listening, as my
father sat at the piano, and the four brothers rehearsed one of the pieces they
would be singing together at the concert. The composition was Lewandowski's
Zakharti lakh hesed n'urayikh, translated as "I remember with favor, the
devotion of your youth."

The heavenly music— sung in harmony by those heavenly voices— is with
me still. And as that moment is illuminated in memory for me now, I realize
that I was afforded the rare opportunity to catch the merest glimpse of the
lives of four loving and devoted brothers as they recaptured their lives in the
Poland of their youth.

Valerie Kusevitsky Leibler is Vice President of Ritual at the Forest Hills Jewish
Center in Queens, New York, which ran a series of programs several years ago,
each focusing on Shabbat in a different European country before WWII. She was
asked to speak about her family heritage at the "Shabbat in Poland" program. This
article is adapted from that speech, with her kind permission.

[Editor's note:] David Kusevitsky was the most giving of artists. InEuropehe learned
that when people paid their admission, one had to deliver. He was extraordinary in
concert, able to singfull-tilt for hours, interacting with his audience all the while. On
stage, his exemplary Yiddish breathed an air of Eastern European gentility; on the
Bimah, his faultless Hebrew stirred memories of communities and ceremonies still
older. Even toward the end, witnesses to his enactment of the High Priest's kneeling
during the Avodah ofYom Kippur described it as "Princely" Noble of spirit and
upright in demeanor, he was the pride of his calling. At Cantors Assembly conven-
tions, no program of traditional hazzanut would have been complete without the
audience demanding that he come onstage-even though he wasn't scheduled as
a participant- and favor them with a selection. With a gracious smile he would
announce his favorite text from the Amidah: V'khol ha-hayyim yodukha selah
(May all the living praise Your name in truth, forever).

Text: the Amidah

V'khol ha-hayyim

Music: David Kusevitsky

after David Ayzenstadt

Piano: Charles Heller

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A Brand Plucked from the Holocaust:
SholomKatz (1915-1982)

Gleaned from many sources

The miraculous story of Sholom Katz's reprieve
from certain death recalls that of an earlier hazzan.
Through his emotional chanting of the Memorial
prayer Eil malei rahamim ("God Full of Mercy"),
Hirsch of Ziviotov (Poland) moved the Tartars to
save 3,000 Jews from the rampaging Cossack mob
of Bogdan Chmielnitzki in 1648. 1 Almost three
centuries later (in 1942), the 27-year-old Sholom
Katz might have had that miracle in mind when he
and 3,000 other Jews were about to be shot outside
the Nazi-occupied town of Brailov in the Ukranian
district east of the Dniester River, (now Brailiv).

On the 12 th of December the condemned Jews
were herded outside to dig their own mass grave.
As they stood beside the long trenches waiting for the machine guns to mow
them down, Katz asked for permission to sing a prayer. The officer in charge
said, "all right, Jew, die singing!" Katz chanted the Prayer for the Dead, inter-
rupted by gun bursts as the white snow turned red with Jewish blood. He
expected to die at any moment, but the Nazi commandant liked his voice and
spared him so he could sing for the officers in their quarters all that night.
The next morning he was allowed to escape.

His life was spared again when he sang for a group of Roumanian collabo-
rators who handed him over for imprisonment in a German concentration
camp until the Russian Army liberated him in 1 944 along with several hundred
other half-starved survivors. He continued to sing after that, at the Zionist
Congress held in Basel, Switzerland in December 1946, in Paris the following
year, and in Israel during the 1950s. Wherever he sang, people referred to him
as the Cantor from the Next World (ha-hazzan mei-olam ha-ba). 2 At its best,
his sizeable lyrico-spinto tenor combined throbbing warmth with a radiant
openness well suited to the liturgical chant of an enlightened Orthodoxy that
had nurtured him until the deportation of Hungarian Jewry.

Abraham Zvildelsohn, Jewish Music (New York: Henry Holt), 1929: 194; citing
Hanover, Yeven Metzula, Cracow, 1896: 9.
Yedi'ot aharonot, July 1950.

He had been considered a child prodigy in the town of his birth, Oradea
(Yiddish: Grosswardein), Western Romania, but a part of Hungary at the time.
The Jewish community there was culturally advanced, boasting established
synagogues of both the Orthodox and Neolog (Hungarian Reform) persua-
sions, each with its own High School. The town was also home to a Religious
Zionist weekly, Our People. 3 As a child Sholom Katz had thrived in this rich
cultural environment, and went on to study voice in Budapest and Vienna.
Then, though extremely young to hold such a position, he was appointed
Chief Cantor of Kishinev, Bessarabia just before World War II erupted. He
emigrated to the U.S. in 1947, where his recording of the Eil malei rahamim
set a new standard for foreign-language discs when its sales ran over 300,000
copies. It won the Grand Prix du Disque in 1950, and in 1970 was played
during the closing credits of an Italian film titled "The Garden of the Finzi-
Continis"— under an image of this prominent Jewish family's home after its
members were taken away by the Nazis. 4

Sholom Katz's 1958 LP for Westminster, Kol Nidre Highlights, accompa-
nied by Hugo Weisgall and the male choir of Chizuk Amuno Congregation
of Baltimore, is perhaps the last American cantorial recording of the 20 th
century that remained true to the spirit of the Eastern European synagogue's
Khorshul (chorally oriented) worship tradition, with fully developed cantorial
statements echoed by brief— but disciplined— choral commentary.

Katz served the Modern Orthodox Beth Sholom Congregation in Wash-
ington, DC for 10 years until retiring in order to devote himself full-time to
concert appearances. His personalization of material learned from cantorial
masters like Yehudah Leib Miller (1886-1947) and Israel Alter (1901-1979)
subtly altered the compositions, adding a lyricism and flow that is not ap-
parent in the written score. This is especially true oiHa-vein yakir li efrayim
("Do I not remember My precious son, Ephraim?") from the Zikhronot, or
"Remembrance" section of Rosh Hashanah Musaf, a hazzanic recitative that
Katz adapted from Cantor Moshe David Steinberg (1871-1941). Sholom
Katz gave the piece a personal touch, including the melodic stamp of his
own Postwar era, a dance-like interlude in Israeli-Horah rhythm just before
the climactic ending:

3 Yehouda Marton, s.v. "Oradea," Encyclopedia Judaica (Jerusalem: Keter).
1972, 12: 1437-1438.

4 The Journal is indebted to Simon Rutberg of Hatikvah Music in Los Angeles
for this particular observation, and to David R. Prager of London for many other
background details. Mr. Rutberg adds that, "whenever the film is played anywhere, we
get requests for this recording."

213

Ki midei dabri vo, zakhor ezk'renu od...raheim arahamenu...
"My heart still yearns whenever I speak of Ephraim...
I'll surely act mercifully towards him again," says God.

Text: Zikhronot Section of
Rosh Hashanah Musaf Amidah

Ha-vein yakkir li

Music: Sholom Katz

After David Moshe Steinberg

Tr. & arr: Joseph Levine

"The Cantors' Cantor"-
Moshe Ganchoff (1905-1997)

Gleaned from many sources

Until the very end of his long career, Moshe
Ganchoff represented our last connection to
the style that earned hazzanut of the early
20 th century the sobriquet: Golden Age. He
was born in Odessa and emigrated as a young
child with his parents to the United States. He
received his early hazzanic training in Toledo,
Ohio, to which several Odessa-trained cantors
had gravitated: Simon Zemachson, Mendel
Shapiro and Aryeh Leib Rutman, among them.
In his teens he moved to New York for the
purpose of studying with Joshua Lind, Jacob
Rapaport, and Mordechai Hershman. In 1944
he succeeded David Roitman as cantor at Man-
hattan's Shaare Zedek on West 93 rd Street. In
1957 he was engaged by Grossinger's Hotel in
the Catskill Mountains resort area of upstate New York for all major holidays.
This allowed him to guest-officiate and concertize widely, as well as to teach
and compose. Over a period of 25 years he was featured in a weekly radio
program on the Jewish Daily Forward's station, WEVD, and for each show he
wrote a new composition. The following appeared in his obituary:

If it seems strange that a cantor, even a lyric tenor known for his
breathtaking improvisations, would be a headline attraction at a Catskills
resort, it is at least partly because there has been a striking decline in
the everyday appreciation of the timeless subtleties of Jewish liturgical
music. There was a time when ordinary worshipers at a synagogue were
so passionately familiar with the underlying music and so attuned to
the styles, talents and limitations of the various cantors that they would
discuss them endlessly, like opera buffs weighing the appeal of a Caruso
or a Pavarotti. 1
Perhaps Ganchoff 's most enduring contribution to hazzanut in the 20 th cen-
tury and beyond was his teaching of succeeding generations for almost three
decades at the Hebrew Union College's School of Sacred Music in Manhattan.
One of the student he influenced is Jack Mendelson, a past president of the

1 Robert McG. Thomas Jr., "Moshe Ganchoff is Dead at 92; Cantor in the Odessa
Tradition," New York Times, August 18, 1997.

Cantors Assembly. Mendelson has, in turn, carried the torch of Ganchoff's
intellectual and musically intricate approach to hazzanim in both the Con-
servative and Reform movements through courses taught at his own alma
mater and at the Jewish Theological Seminary's H.L. Miller Cantorial School.

Ganchoff's durable tenor voice, silver-toned and broad-ranging, served as
an accessible model to Mendelson and numerous other disciples, well beyond
an age when most singers no longer even attempt to sustain a single phrase
worthy of emulation. His singing, available on recordings of single prayers
and entire sections of selected services, affords us a summary of what 20 th -
century hazzanut was all about. Most striking is the way he was able to break
through the stultifying inevitability of verses that were recited every day of his
listeners' lives-in some cases twice or three times daily. Somehow, he made
those verses leap off the page and come startlingly alive in the awareness of
those whom he led in prayer. That level oit'fillah exemplified the dictum of
Rabbi Isaac Avraham Kook, first Chief rabbi of British-Mandated Palestine:
Ha-yashan yit-hadeish v'he-hadash yit-kaddeish
The old will be made new and the new will be made holy.

Moshe Ganchoff achieved this renovation/sacralization through the
element of discovery. He revealed hidden meanings in the familiar words,
spinning musical Midrash through unexpected shifts of mode and nuanced
musical allusions to other times and events that our people has experienced
over the course of its history. His hazzanut recalled that of every outstanding
cantor of the past century. It rivaled, among others, the melodic inventive-
ness of Yossele Rosenblatt (1882-1933), the lyric vocalization of Mordechai
Hershman (1888-1940), the facile coloratura of Berele Chagy (1892-1954),
and the harmonic daring of David Kusevitsky (1911-1985).

When the text called for it, he would resort to dramatic breaks in the
recitation-line a la Leib Glantz (1898-1964) or Pierre Pinchik (1900-1971),
and his utilization of the mezza di voce reminded one of David Roitman (1884-
1943). His improvisatory forays could roam as far afield as those of Aryeh
Leib Rutman (1866-1935) or Alter Yehiel Karniol (1855-1928), constituting
mini-recitatives unto themselves. Moshe Ganchoff brought his mastery of
all these techniques to the compositions of his final years, the century's final
decade as well. His Hoshana even sh'tiyah ("O save the Foundation Stone —
site of Your Holy Temple"), recited on the Second Day of Sukkot, includes
a section that Ganchoff called a d'veikah ("closeness to the Divinity"). It is
a precious moment of going one-on-one with God, to the exclusion of all
profane thoughts or virtuostic showiness. It occurs right after he pleads for
return of the Sh'khinah (God's Presence) to Zion, the spot marked as linat
ha-tsedek, the lodging-place of righteousness in this world.

218

O save the place from which Your glory went forth,
the Tabernacle of Peace to which pilgrims came...

Hoshana even sh'tiyyah

Text: Sukkot Liturgy Music: Moshe Ganchoff

Arr: Joseph Ness
(Abridged Version, 8 min.)

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The Current State of Hazzanut in the UK

By Geoffrey L. Shisler

In 1968 I started my career as hazzan in a part-time post in a small shul,
and although the names of the hazzanim of London were familiar to me,
I did not know them personally. My first full-time position was in the
famous New Synagogue, Egerton Road, Stamford Hill, London where
years earlier, Jacob Goldstein and Ephraim (Fischel), (Rosenberg) had
successively occupied the Bimah. Needless-to-say, in 1970 when I became
hazzan there, the shul was past its prime (else I wouldn't have gotten the
position!), but it still had a very good regular choir, and many locals would
come specially for the S'firat Ha-omer and S'lihot services...

At this time I joined the Association of Ministers-Hazzanim of Great
Britain and got to know all the London cantors, and many of the Provincial
ones too. At that time practically every major congregation in the country
had a full-time hazzan (the United Synagogue, of whom the Chief Rabbi
is the titular head, used to call us 'Readers'), and there were some very
fine ones amongst them too. To mention just a few, there were Hazzanim
Pinchas Faigenblum, Charles Lowy, Moshe Korn, Simon Hass and Yehudah
Landenberg, each an outstanding exponent of hazzanic art.

The United Synagogue alone employed 42 hazzanim, and that's apart
from those employed by other synagogal bodies. Today it employs— one!
Cantor Moshe Haschel is now the only full-time bearer of the tradition of
hazzanut in London, besides a handful of part-timers who are business-
men, dentists and members of other professions. The stark truth is that,
while some lovers of hazzanut remain in this country, the majority of shul
goers no longer want to hear the kind of service that I was brought up on.
They have scant knowledge of nusah ha-t'fillah, and no interest in it. They
wouldn't care if the one who is conducting the service sang the Kedushah
to Auld Lang Syne (and I wouldn't be surprised if some of them do!), as
long as they get it over and done with quickly.

Sadly, the formal style of service that served Anglo-Jewry for so many
years has all but disappeared. Sadder still, precious few of our 300,000
Jews in Britain even care. There are various reasons for this, and I think
it's instructive to examine them.

First and foremost, in my view, is the influence of Israel. There are
only a few synagogues in Israel today where one can hear a fine hazzan
with a well-trained choir. All shuls start davening early in the morning
(certainly by comparison with shuls outside of Israel), and the intention
of the participants is get out as soon as possible. It almost seems that the
more observant a Jew is, the faster he wants to get his davening over and
done with!

This attitude has had a powerful influence on us. A generation ago,
youngsters went to Israel to discover that you don't need to have a pro-
fessionally trained hazzan to conduct the service. Any Jew who can read
Hebrew tolerably well (and sometimes even that's not a requirement)
might be permitted to do so. This is a far cry from the synagogue where
only the rabbi or hazzan ('Reader') was permitted, by the by-laws of the
United Synagogue, to act as sh'liah tsibbur. This laissez-faire stance found
favour with vast numbers of the youngsters, many of whom left from
middle-of-the-road Jewish homes, and came back unwilling to eat their
own mother's cooking any longer! It is now quite unusual to encounter
a regular shul-going young man or woman who will own up to a love of
hazzanut.

The second reason for the demise of hazzanut in the UK is the abysmal
ignorance of nusah ha-t'fillah amongst the new generation of rabbanim.
There is no institution training men for the Anglo-Jewish Ministry
in the UK any more. When I studied hazzanut at Jews' College with
Reverend Leo Bryll (z"l) in the mid 1960s, students in the Rabbinical
Training Programme had to attend a session in nusah ha-t'fillah every
week. This meant that, even if they couldn't sing, they were given a basic
grounding in our sacred traditional melodies and an appreciation of their
importance, and they would not allow someone to stand before the Amud
unless he was familiar with them.

Jews' College has long gone and there is not one single institution in the
UK that trains young men for the Anglo-Jewish rabbinate. Almost every
rabbi who has qualified in the past ten years and who occupies a British
pulpit has been trained in Israel or has a s'mikhah from Chabad. I hardly

230

have to add that, whatever melodies Chabad might claim as nusah are far
removed from the synagogal traditions of Anglo-Jewry.

When Rabbis are abysmally ignorant of our musical heritage and have
no interest in it and hence no desire to become familiar with it, they
could not care less what melodies are used in our services "as long as
the congregation likes them!" I have actually heard a prominent rabbi
in the UK state that it's more important that the people join in with the
singing than that the person who is leading the service sings the "correct"
tune. It has never occurred to this man that, if the correct tune was sung,
it would only be a few weeks before the congregation knew it and was
singing it!

The third reason for the demise of the full-time hazzan in the UK was,
sad to say, brought on by the hazzanim themselves. The fact is that they
never made themselves indispensable. Apart from the "Star" hazzanim
who, like all artistes at the top end of their profession can make all sorts
of demands of their star-struck employers, the ordinary hazzan is also
expected to function in a ministerial capacity for the six days of the week
when he's not "performing." Many cantors realized this in the U.S., but un-
fortunately, most in the UK did not. They would come to shul for the Shaharit
minyan — most days — and attend a funeral, shivah or stone setting ("unveiling"
in the U.S.) with the rabbi, and if they really had to, visit someone in hospital.
But by and large, that was it.

As it became harder and harder to raise funds from the membership to
support two full-time ministerial officials, in many synagogues the manage-
ment started to ask if they could actually cope without the hazzan. When
they looked very carefully, they realized that they could— and in most cases
quite easily.

Had these hazzanim immersed themselves totally in the life of their
congregation, teaching adults and children, running social and educational
programs and instigating initiatives to help move their community forward,
when they came to retire, their congregations would have seen how vital it
was to have a second minister to care for the people. This not being the case,
hardly any shul saw the need to replace their hazzan, and have now gone for
the popular "Assistant Rabbi" or even Youth Worker. If the hazzan had fulfilled
one of these roles, he— and his position— would have become indispensable.

The sad thing is that even the large communities have no regular hazzan.
Where not so long ago we had Hershtick in Finchley, Malovany in Edgware,

Hass in the Central and Korn in Hendon, not one of these communities has
a full-time hazzan any longer. Eikh naflu gibborim! ("How the mighty have
fallen"; Second Samuel 1).

And so we struggle on. I have recently become involved with an organization
called Tephilharmonic (www.Tephilharmonic.com) which was set up to try
and educate the shul-going public about the importance of nusahha-t'fillah.
It's very early days, but we can still work and hope that it may make some
impression, however small. In the meantime, those of us who truly love the
art of hazzanut have to be satisfied with the occasional visit to these shores
from one of the international super-stars.

Even that expedient yields mixed results. Where once Moshe Koussevitzky
could fill the Royal Albert Hall (capacity 7,000) for a concert, it is now a struggle
to half-fill a shul with a capacity of 1,200 for any cantorial concert whatsoever.
There is no hazzan in the world today— no matter how accomplished— who
could attract this number of people to a single appearance here.

I am sorry to say there is no sign that anything will improve significantly;
the simple truth is that hazzanut in Great Britain is rapidly becoming little
more than a subject for nostalgic reminiscence.

Geoffrey L. Shisler, who serves as Rabbi at the New West End Synagogue in Bayswater,
London, UK, is always eager to share hazzanic lore and information via email:
<< Rav&>shisler.com >>.

New West End Synagogus
Bayswater, London, UK

The Current State of Hazzanut in The Netherlands

By Jeffrey P. Lieuwen

I'm sorry to say that the "revival" of hazzanut hasn't really spread to this part
of the world. In my particular area, Rhenen, a small city in the heart of the
country, there isn't any hazzanut at all. That is because Rhenen has no Jewish
community, nor is there an active synagogue within approximately 20 miles.

There are only a few professional hazzanim in The Netherlands. The services
are led mainly by laymen and hardly anyone remembers traditional Dutch
nusah. An authority on the subject— and the most famous hazzan here— is
Dr. Hans (Yosefben mikhael) Bloemendal. He served as the Hazzan rishon
of the Orthodox community in Amsterdam for many years, and if he hasn't
already retired, he will probably be doing so very soon.

The only other professional hazzan whom I know is Ken Gould of the
Liberal Jewish community (you would call it Reform) in The Hague. Here we
use the terms Orthodox and Liberal. We don't have Reform or Conservative;
either you're [modern] Orthodox— the Orthodox community here can be
seen mainly as Conservative — or you're Liberal.

The Jewish community of The Netherlands is rather small (the majority
perished during the Shoah) and most people with a Jewish background are
not religious— most of the Dutch are secular. For many members of the Jewish
community, affiliation has nothing to do with religion. For them, being "Jewish"
is more a "traditional" thing. The main group of Dutch religious Jews live in
and around Amsterdam, with smaller communities in Zwolle and Enschede.

We do have a rich choral history and some good choirs still exist: hetAm-
sterdams Synagogaal Chor (the Amsterdam Synagogue Choir) and Santo
Servicio (the choir of the Sephardic community in Amsterdam). The latter,
inactive since the Shoah, was revived in 2003. JSM readers can find more
information at the following links: www.asl-choir.org ; www.santoservico.nl
(available only in Dutch, but worth a look).

Jeffrey P. Lieuwen has written extensively on the culminating phase of the European
cantorate in general and the development and growth of Yiddish Theatre in Poland
during the early 20th century. He can be contacted at < < ip821ieuwen(a>hetnet.nl >>.

Interior of the Portugal • > nagogue in Amsterdam,
oil painting by Emanuel de Witte, 1680

The State of Ashkenazic Liturgical Music in Israel Today

By Raymond G Goldstein

Various accounts of liturgical music-making in Israel have been written over
the years, the current author himself having contributed an essay on the subject
over a decade ago. 1 Since then many changes have occurred in the music that
Israelis hear in synagogue or concert hall. Among the chief determinants for
these changes is taste, a very individual thing, tempered by social and geo-
graphical situations. What is accepted by the Israeli religious establishment
is not necessarily in line with the taste of the secular Israeli Jew, which may
differ radically from that of his or her American or European counterpart.

As is well known, Orthodoxy here in Israel claims to represent the main-
stream of Judaism. Although some inroads have been made by the Conserva-
tive and Reform movements, this article will restrict itself to the worship rite
practiced by most shul-going Israelis.

I happen to be a former South African who grew up in the rich liturgical
tradition of European Jewry — east and west. Truth to tell, I still regard myself
as an outsider when approaching the various aspects of traditions adhered to
here in Israel. As is the case elsewhere in the Jewish world, the lack of avail-
able financial support or even interest from the general public here has not
exactly helped the perpetuation of traditional synagogue music as I knew it
in my youth.

At the time of this writing, the Feher Jewish Music Centre at the Diaspora
Museum in Tel Aviv has been closed down. In addition, the various folklore
departments of the Israeli Broadcasting Authority have cancelled their projects
of recording and preserving Yiddish, Ladino and cantorial music, and have
reduced the broadcasting of existing materials. Instead, they are relying on
replays of Golden Age hazzanut selections— by the original performers and
by an increasing number of modern imitators. And despite their continuing
popularity with listeners, gone are the days when the public could experience
complete broadcasts of cantorial concerts.

Thus we must be grateful to institutions like the Jewish Music Research
Center at Hebrew University and the Tel Aviv Cantorial Institute for their
ongoing promotion of all things liturgical-be it in publications, recordings
or live performances. Liturgical concerts are still supported by:

1 Raymond Goldstein, "Ashkenazi Liturgical Music in Israel Today," ThePerfor-
mance of Jewish and Arab Music in Israel Today, Part 1 , Amnon Shiloah, ed. (Harwood
Academic Publications, 1997).

1) large municipalities who have decent Tarbut-toranit ("Torah culture")
departments, in which case a lot depends on the personal invention of
the mayor or his municipal council;

2) liturgical male choirs and their conductors who often organize their own
concerts and sell tickets together with their municipalities;

3) cantorial schools who wish to promote their own students by inviting
famous "names" to appear as guest artists on their programs; and

4) commercial impresarios who will promote and present still-popular
cantorial programs on a for-profit basis.

The result of all this is that concerts of hazzanut are always well attended,
particularly when they are offered gratis or at relatively inexpensive prices.
Audiences may range anywhere from 200 to 3,000 people, a number which
the Classical-recital industry in this country can only envy.

Although keyboard remains the cheapest form of accompaniment for
cantorial music, a recent trend — considered misguided in some quarters —
has emerged for full orchestral backing at such events. This quasi-"operatic"
experience has apparently found favor among religiously minded folk, but
it has imposed certain musical restrictions upon the performing artists by
disrupting the momentum of a given recitative through the regular insertion
of instrumental interludes, besides adding enormously to the overall cost of
each concert.

The current author has sought to reconcile both worlds by arranging ac-
companiments for chamber-sized groups such as a quartet of flute, clarinet/
oboe, cello/bassoon and keyboard. This way, wherever necessary, the cantor
can enjoy a measure of improvisational freedom while the overall performance
still conveys a "symphonic" impression. And the cost is exponentially smaller
than it would be for a massive orchestra.

Viewed objectively, the hazzanic repertoire performed at concerts seems
trapped in some type of time warp. This is because of an overwhelming
popular demand for traditional skarboveh ("treasured") works deriving from
Eastern Europe. Western European compositions or modernistic harmonies
in concerts are frowned upon by a public that finds them too goyish ("non-
Jewish") in style. As a result, the most sought-after hazzanic concertizers have
become "Gramophone" cantors. This is due partially to their unfamiliarity
with more recent — and therefore not-yet-recorded — repertoire, and partially
to their unfamiliarity with the vast body of printed hazzanic material (inac-
cessible to them because they lack basic sight-reading skills). It's not as if the
latest material is not available — ironically, Israel has excellent institutional

and private libraries-it's more the hard fact that today's cantors can enjoy
considerable success by simply rote-learning and repeating what was done
by their antecedents!

The bottom line: a new form of cantorial composition-the recorded recita-
tive extended through choral/instrumental responses — has produced a "new
and improved" version of the Golden Age repertoire and obviated the need
or desire for original works.

As to the question of liturgical choirs, it is a touchy issue in Israel of the 21 st
century. There are the "Pirkhei" boy choirs and their commercialized brand
of Israeli Hasidut in unison or two-part harmony. Because of the problems
encountered in training often boisterous and undisciplined young boys— and
since Orthodox religious practice prohibits the sound of female voices in
public— choral synagogue repertoire for adults is limited to arrangements
for men alone. In the past, mixed arrangements for SATB were used verba-
tim — with Second tenor singing above the First tenor melody line — resulting
in a consistently muddy sound.

The standard of performance also varies considerably due to a lack of
genuine sight-reading abilities among the participants. In this regard, choral
singing of secular music is of a far higher quality; synagogue choral music
in Israel must often be simplified to the point where it can be performed in
some manner at all. Professional synagogue choirs are few and far between,
the choir of the Great Synagogue in Jerusalem being a significant exception.

A number of small itinerant choirs — usually consisting of quartets or octets,
together with the popular cantor(s) of the day — make the rounds throughout
the country in the style of "a khazn oyf shabbes" (as the old folk song has it).
They generally appear at the paid request of some benefactor who desires to
have a special event in his synagogue commemorated. In this fashion many
such chamber groups along with their itinerant cantors find work-just as their
forebears in Eastern Europe did more than a century earlier. Interestingly,
this revived folk custom is once again proving very popular not only in the
big cities but in smaller towns and kibbutzim as well.

Nonetheless, in most Israeli synagogues— particularly the small and infor-
mal one-room shtibelekh — the musical component of worship is unfortunately
at an all-time low. Most minyanim want the ba'al t'fillah to do the service at
a fast speed with the further stipulation: "no khazonus!" The excuse is that
the congregation has come to pray and not to attend a concert! Patience is
certainly not an Israeli virtue; so that for a dignified "musical" service the
average Jew must go to a larger synagogue, and even then it's a question of

luck. Adherence to traditional nusah also leaves a lot to be desired, through
sheer lack of interest— or knowledge— on the part of most worshipers.

For any hope of improving this lamentable situation we must look to the few
training schools for hazzanim that exist in this country. Leading the field is
the Tel Aviv Cantorial Institution under the caring guidance of Hazzan Naftali
Herstik. There, great emphasis is placed on correct usage of a prayer mode
appropriate to the occasion, accurate interpretation of the text, and proper
placement of word-stresses in both Ashkenazic and Sephardic pronuncia-
tions. To further complicate matters, there is currently a demand among the
ultra-Orthodox for Ashkenazic pronunciation, while the larger synagogues
still adhere to the Sephardic pronunciation. This factor in itself can play an
important role in the musical interpretation of a piece.

The Tel Aviv school also boasts an excellent choir, maintaining that any
qualified cantor should know how it is "to be on the other side of the fence"
when guest-officiating with an incumbent choir in their home synagogue.
Students are exposed to a wide repertoire of musical settings for the yearly
cycle of liturgy, which enables them to perform not only with chorus but also
with chamber or orchestral ensembles if the need should arise. It is therefore
not surprising that a majority of young Israeli cantors are among the leading
performers on stage not only in this country but also abroad.

In conclusion I must state that despite all the obstacles— when a "big
name" is officiating in a large synagogue or if a large Kiddush repast has been
announced for after the service— a large crowd will still flock to the particular
sanctuary. If that is what it takes to attain success, I'm all for it.

Capetown-born Raymond Goldstein joined the faculty of the Jerusalem Rubin
Academy of Music in 1 978, and was later appointed senior teacher at the Tel Aviv
Cantorial Institute. As a musical director/accompanist he appears frequently on
stage, radio and television, having collaborated in over 200 recordings with inter-
national cantors and singers. His oeuvre includes more than 1800 orchestrations of
sacred and secular works, and the composition of a chamber opera, two cantatas,
and a concert Kabbalat Shabbat service.

The Great Synagogue in Jerusalem

How Should We Train the Cantors of the Future?
Adapted from a CA Convention Symposium

Scott Sokoh

I began my career not as a cantor in professional life, but as a research psy-
chologist and a professor. Education has, therefore, always been central to
my own professional mission and, at this point, I've had a couple of decades'
experience teaching graduate level and professional schools. When tasked to
create a graduate cantorial program, I realized, as we all did, that the golden
age of the pulpit artist was likely behind us. I believe that never having ex-
perienced that golden age as a practitioner freed me somewhat from any
undue nostalgia, and by that I mean no disrespect, just in the sense of going
back to what no longer was. Instead, I took this reality as an opportunity.
If participation was to be the new name of the game, well, then, I figured
our students should be able to participate in a very high level and be able to
educate others to participate. And so I knew that education was going to be
an important part of what we did at Hebrew College. Of course, I knew that
most cantors are already Jewish educators, but I also knew that most played
that role more from gut instinct and effective improvisation than from actual
planning, training and teaching. I remembered the words often quoted to
me by Moreinu he-hazzan Max Wohlberg, zikhrono livrakhah, that the best
improvisation is a planned improvisation. So I decided that our graduates
would indulge in a lot of planning by actually training as educators.

We don't have all of the students doing this, but most of our students are in
what we call the cantor-educator track. The impetus for this idea oihazzan-
m'haneikh was basically that our graduates would receive their ordination,
but their Master's degree would not be in Sacred Music nor even in Jewish
Studies, but rather in Jewish Education. Moreover, they would take, in addi-
tion to general education courses, specific targeted courses at the intersection
of Jewish music and Jewish education: things like:"Teaching and Facilitating
T'fillah," "B'nei Mitzvah Pedagogy" and "Topics in Jewish Music Education."
Along with these we offer courses like "Keva vs. Kavannah: The Dialectic of
Prayer Leading."

The second trend that I saw was trans-denominationalism. Hebrew Col-
lege has been that from the beginning. The motivation behind such a school
is based on at least three intersecting goals. The first of these goals is simply
to serve trans-denominational or nondenominational congregations. There
is an ever-growing number of these congregations and communities, for

whatever reasons, that wants to be served by rabbis and cantors who have a
broad and unconstrained viewpoint on ritual practice.

Another reason for the trans-denominational approach is pedagogical.
Our students learn traditional nusah, cantorial recitative and cantillation, and
they also study contemporary repertoire. But more than the subject matter of
trans-denominational education, the pedagogy I refer to has to do with our
students who are, themselves, from different denominational backgrounds. In
the same classroom, we have Orthodox, Reform, Reconstructionist, Conser-
vative and a great number of the New Age or Renewal denominations. They
study in the same classes, they talk with each other about their backgrounds,
they force each other to unpack assumptions about their ritual practice and
their religious beliefs. In so doing, I really believe that they come away with
a richer perspective on their emerging worlds as cantors and rabbis.

The third reason for offering a trans-denominational program is a spiritual
one. Many of our students come not knowing what they are. They don't feel
like they can conform to the mold of a denomination, and part of why they're
in school is to figure out where they are and where they want to ultimately be.
Many will choose to affiliate themselves either with Reform or Conservative
congregations, but others will choose not to limit their personal identity or
the domains where they serve. They may serve a Reform congregation and a
Conservative congregation at the same time.

The final trend that really influences my thinking about this is that many
of us find ourselves in sole-practitioner situations, especially in smaller con-
gregations. And so, in addition to the cantor-educator program, from the
very beginning, I also wanted to start a dual (or hyphenated, if you prefer)
ordination track of rabbi-cantor. I'm hopeful that this year we finally will
actually be doing that. We've already started the process, offering it in a rea-
sonable frame of time — seven years. Our hope is that we will have students
who will complete it, as well as those who will not necessarily dually ordain,
but will study seriously enough so that we'll have rabbis who know nusah,
and hazzanim who know texts.

My hope for the future of this profession is that cantorial and rabbinical
education in this country will adopt a model more akin to other professions,
namely an unyoking of the professional school from the movement-centered
professional organization. After all, when you study to be a lawyer you go
to the law school that best meets your needs— whether it's geographical or
philosophical — and then you take the Bar exam where you want to practice
in law. Similarly in medical education, there was a time when the hospital
you studied in was the hospital you worked in. That is no longer the case. I

242

think there's no reason why our professions can't do that as well. Of course,
there will always be a closer and important relationship between the Miller
School and the Cantors Assembly and between HUC and the ACC. That's
natural and it should be expected. But I frankly think that if others who re-
ally are serious and have studied want to enter these professions, we should
let them do so in terms of the professional organizations, making sure they
know what we expect them to know for our particular organization. The
knowledge, the skills, the experiences need to be there, but frankly, the poli-
tics don't need to be there.
Nathan Lam;

Our post-denominational school started in 2001 with a heavy emphasis on
Jewish Renewal. We took the curricula from JTS and HUC, looked them over
and put together a curriculum that combined many of the similar ideas from
both schools. Ours is a five-year program: 210 units, a thesis and a recital
required at the end. We are affiliated with the Western Association of Colleges
and Schools, for accreditation purposes. That has actually helped me to focus
on an idea of how to change the curriculum. Why? Because we're looking at
every class in terms of: "what is the exit strategy?" We're looking at a learning
outcome: "what are we producing at the end of five years?"

I totally agree that the Assembly and the ACC need to look at these new
models instead of making it difficult for our graduates, because the big el-
ephant in both organizations is the lack of jobs. Yet, there are jobs available.
I'm looking at the fact that we are not providing people who can be cantors
for three-to-five-hundred family congregations. That's who we have to go
after, because more than half of the congregations in this country don't have
cantors. We have to find a way of providing cantors who serve their needs.
Instead of having them get an assistant rabbi, we should be ordaining cantors
who have been provided with enough text study and ability to teach many
different subjects. It's education, but education with a different spin.

Some of our students are right out of college, others are pursuing their
Master's degree in some related subject. We have other people who are
physicians, all types of second-career people, looking at the cantorate in a
much different way. The question is: "how do you make what we are teaching
relevant to the 21 st century?" One of the things our late and beloved execu-
tive vice-president Sam Rosenbaum said in one of his speeches was that the
cantorate was changing-in his day-every 20 years.

Since Sam's day the cantorate has morphed itself. We are now looking at
a cantorate that has changed every two or three years, out of necessity and
through self- awareness. Yes, we have to be ba'alei nusah. That means some of

243

the classes will be really specific. But that's not what our congregants are look-
ing for, and therefore, that's perhaps not what we want to teach our students.

Looking at nusah, I have to say that some of the piyyutim on Rosh Hashanah
may be not as important as others. Maybe we have to start looking at different
types of models even for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Yamim nora'im,
which were sacrosanct musically, are now being invaded by the repertoire of
Friday Night Live, by the Unplugged Friday night. Even Shabbat morning is
morphing itself into that. The High Holy Days were not — until now.

Looking at our nusah curriculum, I think we have to take a different tack
and say, "what is it that we want these people to go out with?" I think we want
them to be an educator, a facilitator, an expert and a producer-a producer
of events. Our event is called "Shabbat" — and unlike the Cineplex — we are
producers of sacred events. I hate the word Cineplex, which seems to turn
us into a mall-theater with ten different films. I don't like that. I think that
we are producers of sacred events.

Another consideration is that if you don't train students to be able to relate
to the people they're serving, they will not have jobs. I don't care how much
nusah they know. I don't care how musical they are. I don't care how great
their voice is. Relevancy means that if we train you to be a pulpit cantor, here
is what you need to know. You have to know how to give a speech. You have
to know how to look at texts. Text has to turn you on. Midrash has to turn
you on and you have to be able to turn people on with that.

And, I tell my students that along with learning all of the things that we
require of them, they have to know one additional subject that they will study
on their own. I don't care what the subject is. They have to know how to study
something on their own to become an expert at it — whether it's Jewish film,
whether it be Jewish music, whether it be a certain part of Jewish history,
Israeli music— something they can teach on their own that sets them apart
from all the rest of the people on their staff.

The last point is that we have to be the source people on the synagogue
staff so when they're considering cutting the liturgy and they say, "well, what
was this put in here for?"— "why Ohilah la-eil?" or "why that nusah?" — you
have to know the reason why, and if you don't know, at least you should know
where to find out why and how to answer. We just can't do it in 210 units and
five years. For me then, the goal is to say, "what is it that's going to make that
person successful, marketable and keep the job?"

Henry Rosenblum:

We are going through a time of enormous transition. The cantorates that we
are each engaged in are different one from the other, and therefore, at JTS we
have decided that the "hyphenated-cantorate" has become a reality. Whether
you are a cantor-educator, a cantor-executive director, a cantor-pastor or a
cantor- music director, each and every one of those is ultimately a valid way
of serving the needs of the Jewish community. Because we did not feel that
every student at JTS was necessarily cut out to be one particular type of
hybrid, we've tried to offer different courses that will give somebody a basic
skill-set in a lot of different areas, and if you choose to then study in greater
depth in one of those particular areas, that may be the way in which you are
most successful.

For example, every student in the Miller Cantorial School chooses between
three optional courses in Jewish education. If we felt that every student was
capable of being an educator in terms of heading a Hebrew school or running
a Hebrew high school program, then we would have made all three Education
courses a requirement. We chose not to. It's the hybrid we're after: the cantor
who is strong in synagogue skills in terms of reading Torah, teaching others
to read Torah, Haftarah, leading t'fillot and empowering others. If you are the
expert who can teach others, our feeling was that would make you the most
important contributor to the musical and ritual life of your congregation.

We are redoing a curriculum which has been pretty standard for almost
the 50 years of the school's history, and putting it aside in order to approach
the education of hazzanim as a blank slate. There's a natural inclination to
argue: "how can we not have this area of study?" Or, "how could we possibly
have a well-trained cantor who doesn't know this material?" So every time
we wipe the slate clean, we suddenly discover all sorts of new imprints on it.

On the one hand you have torah lishmah. There are people who want to
learn what our schools have to offer and I think it's incumbent upon us to
train such people. But we also have to consider: "when I accept students in
the school, am I guaranteeing them employability when they finish going to
school?" If somebody comes in with what I feel is a skill-set that could make
them employable, I'm prepared to train them. But we can't guarantee they're
going to get a job. Our hope is that the people who are educated well, the
ones who have a varied skill-set, can find employment somewhere. There
are places for cantors to be employed where we have just not scratched the
surface yet. There is no reason why roshei t'fillah in Jewish day schools must,
by definition, be rabbis. It makes no sense. It also makes no sense that syna-

gogues seek to hire an assistant rabbi instead of a cantor, when our product
can fill that additional spot within the synagogue hierarchy.

Nathan Lam:

On the other hand, there have been times when we had not enough cantors to
satisfy the job market. We trained cantors and they couldn't get jobs. But we
trained them anyway. You look at the Cantors Assembly and see how people
became members after passing the marathon tests we gave them over the
years; it was a Catch 22. People had to be a cantor for five or seven years before
they could take the test, but they got into the Cantors Assembly without that
education. They had to have a job and they had to take the test seven years
after they already had the job. It was an interesting model.

I totally agree with Henry; I think that the problem here is not necessarily
how many people we have been training, it's how we approach a changing
market. I see a future where there will be more cantors going back to rabbinic
school and getting a dual ordination. It makes totally no sense for a congre-
gation of 300-to-500 families to hire an assistant rabbi. But if he or she has
a guitar and they're playing and they're doing song leading, it looks like and
smells like it kind of has a feeling of what's going on. Jews in our day and age
see what other places do. If it looks successful, they want to copy that. The
best people, if they're trained well, will always get jobs.

The successful cantor is the eclectic person, the one who takes the best of
every model that is out there and finds a way of incorporating it. You cannot
close yourself off to any of the different styles and modes that are out there,
you must allow yourself to have another point of access to members of your
congregation. The more tools you have, the greater the likelihood is that you
will be relevant.

Stephen J. Stein:

Knowing that cantors of the future are being trained that way, if we're aware
that certain congregations are looking to hire an assistant rabbi, we try to
encourage them that the cantor would be a different, better path to follow.
We're out there talking to congregations all the time about exactly what's
been discussed here, especially in terms of the development of new posi-
tions. When we know a congregation is trying to decide whether they want
an assistant rabbi or a hazzan, of course we point out to them that if they
hire an invested hazzan, that person likely can do all the things an assistant
rabbi can do— in addition to singing the services and doing all the musical
and inspirational things a cantor does.

We had a situation in my neighboring Reform congregation, where the
hazzan was let go and they decided: "We don't need a cantor, we'll hire an
assistant rabbi." After four years they realized it had been a terrible mistake
to hire an assistant rabbi, because it forced them to also engage a cantorial
soloist. They have now hired a recent graduate from the cantorial school at
Hebrew Union College.
Henry Rosenblum:

One proof of the way in which cantorial students have risen in the eyes of
their rabbinic colleagues has to do with the presence of cantorial students
at minyan at JTS. The cantorial student who was a stranger to daily minyan,
no matter what that person could do or bring to the table, was not viewed
as someone who took yiddishkeyt seriously. As cantorial students over the
past few years assumed much more of a presence at daily minyan, they have
become true hevruta partners with their rabbinical school colleagues. The
graduating siyyum no longer has to be limited to a joint study of Talmudic
text. Rabbinical students who had been doing it for five years at least, and
cantorial students who are just beginners in text study are not on an equal
footing. In their hevruta study, the rabbinical student taught the cantorial
student and they'd present the text together at the siyyum. That relationship
was doomed from the beginning. There's been an initiative started for the
nature of the siyyum to be a different one. Students will be able to present
their own areas of expertise as valid study. It's just the beginning, but it's a
major change.

And, in an environment where a hazzan must be very careful not to in-
cur jealousy or resentment on the part of his rabbi, we are also taking into
consideration the fact that cantorial schools are now training the hazzan to
do things that rabbis do, such as giving a d'var torah or occasional sermon.

Stephen J. Stein:

There are two factors at play here. One is: an assistant rabbi is far more
threatening to the senior rabbi than the hazzan. So keep that in mind when
the shul is thinking about an assistant rabbi — the hazzan is not a threat. I
also found, in my congregation, that my rabbi is delighted by the fact that I
deliver eulogies, because when there is a death and he's on vacation, he doesn't
have to feel guilty for being gone. When there's a death in your congregation,
the family does not want some stranger giving the eulogy for their beloved
mother or their beloved spouse. They want somebody who knows the family.
I know, and I'm not the only one, that the rabbis I've worked with have been
thrilled that I can give a eulogy so they don't have to look over their shoulder
when they're out of town.

247

Scott Sokol:

I agree completely. Rabbis are really our most important advocates, both on
the congregational level and also in the school. When we've made progress
in my school, it's only been when the rabbinical students and faculty have
seen that the cantorial students and cantorial faculty have a lot to offer them.
When we do programs together, they see our perspective. We just recently did
a High Holiday mini-mester for a week with our two schools. The responses I
got were, "wow! I didn't know that," over something we were bringing to the
table about the High Holiday practice. Having the senior rabbi as an advocate
saying, "I want a cantor, I don't want an assistant rabbi," is really important.
Rabbis have been very quick, as they should be, to have music as part of
their portfolios, especially if they're musically talented. We really need to be
able to use text as part of our portfolio. We need to go where they are. They're
coming to where we are; we need to not see these things as territorial, but
to be really collaborative. We may approach music differently than they do,
we may approach text differently than they do. I give a different type oid'var
torah than my rabbi does. Both types are valid— but they're different. We
need to speak each other's languages but always bring our own nuance to it.
That's when our rabbinic colleagues will see that we offer something different
and complementary— the ability and expertise to infuse emotional life into
everything we do for the congregation.

Stephen J. Stein:

I believe all the points we have raised that would guide us in how best to train
future cantors can be boiled down to one question, the answers to which will
show us the path we should take: How can we as educators best meet the dif-
ferent set of demands that recent religious and cultural shifts have made for
and upon cantors 7 .

First, aside from the knowledge and skills they impart, our cantorial schools
must begin producing a generation of hazzanim who either innately possess
the charisma required for leadership or who can be nurtured to positively
impact upon others through their own personalities. Accomplishing that
alone should help considerably in bridging the gap between the way cantors
of the future view their own effectiveness and the way others currently view it.

Secondly, our cantorial schools as well as their students must immediately
address the issue of an increasing number of congregations with declining
memberships finding themselves unable to continue affording a full-time haz-
zan. Our schools must recognize that there are roles their graduates will have
to assume in order to secure jobs. Their students, long before they graduate,

will have to seriously consider earning a Masters degree in Jewish Education.
Clearly, other hybrid possibilities excist as well. But a Cantor /Educator seems
the most logical, because congregations that cannot afford a full-time cantor
alone, may be able to budget for a full-time Cantor/Educator.

Finally, we should remain hopeful — knowing that everyone in the Jewish
community is struggling to find a magic potion that will engage the young and
disinterested. In this struggle we have as much of an opportunity for finding
solutions as anyone else. That is because we as cantors have an amazing ve-
hicle for impacting upon others, young and old alike. It is the power of music!

Scott Sokol is the former Director of the Graduate Cantorial Program at Hebrew
College in Boston. Nathan Lam is Director of the Cantorial School at the Academy
for Jewish religion in California. Henry Rosenblum is the former Dean oftheH. L.
Miller Cantorial School at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. Stephen
J. Stein is Executive Vice President of the Cantors Assembly. This article is adapted
from a panel discussion on the same topic; Proceedings of the 61st Annual Cantors
Assembly Convention, Kerhonkson, NY, June 16, 2008.

How I Conducted 300 High Priests

by Joseph Rumshinsky (1881-1956)

This account ofRumshinsky's return to cantorial choir conducting after an absence of
nearly 30 years during which he had immersed himself in the world of Yiddish Theatre,
is excerpted from his 1944 autobiography, Klangenfun mayn lebn ("Sounds of my
Life"; New York: A. Y Biderman, pp. 721-724). It is translated from the original Yid-
dish by frequent Journal contributor David R. Prager, whose article,"The Hasidified
World ofHazzanut Seen through the Eyes of an Analytical Cantorholic," appeared
in the 2009 issue.

In the same era (mid- 1920s) that I undertook to lead choir rehearsals with
the Khazonim Farband (Jewish Ministers Cantors Association) for my new
composition "Oz Yoshir" and other works, I wrote an operetta, "Katinka," for
which I created sixteen musical numbers. Of them, the one with the leitmotif
'Khkenfargessen yeden, nur nit on dir ( "I can forget about everyone but not
about you") and a soldiers' song Marsh, marsh" ("March, March"), were the
most popular. In the song 'Khkenfargessen yeden, nor nit on dir, sung by Molly
Picon, was a phrase expressing the thought that she could forget even about
G-d but not about him-meaning her beloved. I received a deluge of protest
letters asking how the song could dare refer to forgetting about G-d. The most
notable fact was that many young people, American lads and lasses, com-
plained. As a result, I amended the song and removed the offending phrase.

In the evenings, I conducted reheasals with the Khazonim Farband choir
after almost a whole day's work with actors, chorus, individual chorus mem-
bers and dancers. Indeed, at one theatre rehearsal instead of saying, "Girls,
please now let's begin the rehearsal," I misspoke and said, "Khazntes ( female
cantors), please now let's begin the rehearsal."

However, the rehearsals with the Khazonim Farband were celebratory and
marvelous. They were not just rehearsals at which one learned items or got
to know a composition or two. Each and every rehearsal was truly a concert,
enjoyed by all participants-the cantors, the singers, the committee and me.
The level of enthusiasm rose with every rehearsal. As each day passed in the

count-down to the concert, so rose the levels of excitement and nervousness
as well as inter-cantorial competitiveness and professional rivalry.

The capable organizer Jacob Rapaport had already distributed the solos,
and the soloist cantors were happy. An episode underscored the difficulty of
programming zogakhtsn (cantorial prayer recitatives), which even the wis-
dom of Rapaport almost could not resolve. This was because in those days,
besides the great living stars, were other, lesser mortals-also in the heyday
of their careers-and each wanted to sing an item from the liturgy. Somehow,
the diplomatic Khazonim Farband president, Rapaport, arranged matters so
that that all the "high priests" (as I thought of them) were happy. Altogether, at
that concert on Sunday night February 21, 1926, almost three-hundred voices
(an army of generals, as I considered them) sang together with an orchestra
of fifty professional musicians, mainly from the New York Symphony.

In the front row of the three hundred cantors and singers stood Yos-
sele Rosenblatt, Mordechai Hershman, Israel Alter, Zavel Kwartin, Adolph
Katchko, David Roitman, Abraham Shapiro, Berele Chagy, Israel Breeh and
Jacob Jacobowitz. Zavel Zilberts and I would lead the ensembles in turn.

I had composed a musical fantasy for organ — based on prayer motifs — as an
overture for the concert which took place a little over a year after Manhattan's
Mecca Temple first opened. 1 For this event the auditorium was filled with the
greatest Jewish personalities of New York, press representatives, musicians,
rabbis, business leaders, artists, actors and government officials. When all
were in their seats, Jacob Rapaport appeared in front of the curtain. He an-
nounced in his strong, beautiful, resounding, baritone voice, Od yosef hail
("Joseph [meaning me] still lives!"). "Indeed this Joseph," he continued, "who
for the past thirty years had been in Egyptian exile [meaning away from the
cantorial world and deeply involved in Yiddish Theatre], has returned and is
tonight with us. Yosef hail..'.' and the curtain rose.

Upon that signal from their president, the three hundred massed singers
who led so much of American Jewry in musical prayer lined up to perform.
I came out. The wonderful concert began.

People generally like to speak with enthusiasm about the past and minimize
the present. I have to admit that when I conducted this wonderful cantorial

1 The Mecca Temple, at 55 th Street between 6 th and 7 th Avenues, was dedicated

in late December of 1924. It would later become the New York City Center, home to
the New York City Opera and New York City Ballet companies until they moved to
Lincoln Center in the mid-1960s..

concert, I experienced tremendous excitement coupled with a nervous in-
ner knowledge that such a musical force was meeting for the first time-and
I feared also for the last time. This was because man is mortal and such a
collection of cantorial artists will not emerge quickly again. Certainly, they
cannot grow upon American soil. These were exiled singers imbued with
European Jewish culture.

I harbor many pleasant memories from my long career. The cantorial
concert at the Mecca Temple is one of the most sparkling of those moments.

The following must be noted. The two great cantorial artists, Yossele
Rosenblatt and Mordechai Hershman, who sadly are no longer alive, bantered
together good-naturedly at that concert. After Hershman had completed
his intricate cantorial piece, there was, as usual, a good deal of applause; the
audience clapped loud and long. Yossele Rosenblatt stood in the wings and
waited, as he was scheduled to sing next. Coming offstage, Mordechai Her-
shman said to him, "You hear, Berdeleh ("Beardie"; referring to Yossele's full
beard and diminutive stature) how the public acclaims my singing!?"

Rosenblatt answered with a smile, "Beardie Yossele will now sing and de-
claim such that the public will forget Mordekhele ("Little Mordechai")! When
Rosenblatt ended his cantorial selection and the audience's enthusiasm was
phenomenal because his singing that night was extraordinarily virtuostic, Her-
shman came up to him and said, "Yasherkoyakh, berdeleh! (Congratulations,
Beardie!) You were true to your word. You made mincemeat of me. Excellent!"

It makes one's heart heavy to realize that such golden voices-Jewish sing-
ers and precentors, have become silent for eternity. As for those still among
the living, they have now become elderly. Regarding the new generation, I
scarcely believe that in present day Europe and America, similar stars can
again arise such as a Yossele Rosenblatt and a Mordechai Hershman...

The concert that Rumshinsky describes raised $10,000 to aid cantors in need.
Its Program appeared in The New York Times the Sunday morning of the
concert, February 21, 1926, in the "Amusements" section, p. x8:

Cantors Association, evening, at the Mecca Temple.

Conductors, Zavel Zilberts and Joseph Rumshinsky.

Overture, "Egmont" Beethoven

Heje Im Pifiyos Zilberts

Traditional airs, sung by Cantors J. Jacobowitz,
Moses Steinberg, Berele Chagy, A. Shapiro,
Adolph Katchko, Mordechai Hershman and Josef
Rosenblatt.

Al Naharos Bovel Zilberts

Havdolo Zilberts

Echoes of the Temple Rumshinsky

Air, "La Juive" Halevy

Oz Yoshir Rumshinsky

Yismach Moshe Rumshinsky

Katchko: Three Generations ofCantorialArt

Compiled by Deborah Katchko Gray

Edited and Produced by Velvel Pasternak

Tara Publications 2009, Companion CD included

Reviewed by Roberts. Scherr

What if you were able to sit at the side of a master hazzan, Adolph Katchko,
one oi the g'dolim of the twentieth century's Golden Age of hazzanut? While
we cannot have that opportunity literally in the twenty-first century, his
granddaughter, Hazzan Deborah Katchko Gray, brings us both the notes
and the ta'am of this great hazzan and teacher through the composite work
under review. Hazzan Gray has carefully transcribed original compositions
by Adolph Katchko, and interpretations thereof by his son— her father,
Theodore Katchko — so that generations oiohavei hazzanut can experience
their artistry. Adolph Katchko was a master ba'al nusah, a natural improviser
within the traditional prayer modes. Yet this book-and-CD should be valued
not just for its transcriptions-and-recordings of the musical notes; it offers a
family reunion as well as an important treasure of hazzanut.

The book's opening pages contain Hazzan Gray's personal reflections on
her father's and grandfather's hazzanut. She transports us back half a century
through Katchko's original writing along with many pages of accolades from
appreciative colleagues, through which we come to know both the heart and
mind of this revered hazzan and teacher. This section includes family pictures,
plus articles her grandfather wrote. There's even a priceless undated photo
of Adolph being mock-coached by Hazzan Zavel Kwartin atop a mountain
in White Sulphur Springs, New York (Figure 1, see next page).

Other remembrances give contemporary readers loving insights into the
meaning and impact of Adolph Katchko's art. In an introductory Apprecia-
tion, Hazzan Jack Mendelson recalls making a hospital visitation to someone
in quite frail condition who, when told "the cantor is here to see you," looked
up and said one word: "Katchko."

Adolph Katchko was a child prodigy as both a singer and conductor. He
studied in Berlin under Alexander Heinemann, and later in Vienna under
Adolph Robinson and Arthur Frank. He served as Chief Cantor at the No-
zyk Synagogue in Warsaw, and later— in the same capacity— for the Jewish

254

community of Stenamangor,
Hungary. He emigrated to New
York City in 1921, occupying
various pulpits until he was
called to the Conservative
Ansche Chesed Congrega-
tion in Manhattan, where he
served for 24 years until his
retirement.

One of the articles in this
volume, "Changing Concep-
tions of Hazzanut," originated
as an address delivered before
the Second Annual Conven-
tion of the Cantors Assembly
in 1949. It analyzes the evolu-
tion of hazzanut from the old-
fashioned zogakhts (meticu-
lous treatment of each word
as a separate musico-rhetorical
entity) to a more modern style
that features "the long singing
phrase" Yet he cautions that
as one sings longer and more
musically complex phrases,
one must carefully guard the
grammatical syntax of the prayer texts, lest a prayers' meaning be lost in the
quest for musical purpose alone:

)dern Conservative and Reform
effort to utilize the correct nusah
[particularly] in those synagogues where the service is largely a silent
one, where praying is done b'lahash. In such places of worship, where a
vociferous, ecstatic religious spirit is missing, it becomes the duty of the
hazzan to bring our nus'haot to light, otherwise there is the risk that many
of our most traditional melodies may be forgotten because of disuse.
Back in the mid-20th century, Adolph Katchko was thinking about the
same issues that concern hazzanim today. The book has included all of the
musical examples that he used to illustrate this lecture.

Figure 1. Adolph Katchko being "coached" by
Zavel Kwartin in White Sulphur Springs, NY.

A voice as fully resonant as Katchko's would normally not lend itself to
intricate coloratura. Its extraordinary flexibility, however, enabled him to
negotiate such passages flawlessly and tastefully. Katchko's virtuosity made
him comfortable in either the Orthodox or Reform style of service, and his
hazzanut was highly regarded in all the main branches of American Juda-
ism. His New York synagogue was among the ten percent of Conservative
congregations that employed an organ during regular worship and not just
at wedding services. With or without instrumental accompaniment, Adolph
Katchko was beloved by his students at Hebrew Union College's School for
Sacred Music, where he served as a founding faculty member. His congregants
revered him, as did countless visitors from afar who came to participate in
his dignified davening.

Deborah Katchko Gray has wisely set her grandfather's compositions in
lower keys, to make them more accessible for medium-range voices. Male
as well as female cantors will find this helpful, especially since the settings
include simple guitar chords. The author writes that she has found this kind
of accompaniment an effective way to demonstrate the modernity and ac-
cessibility of her grandfather's music for contemporary synagogue goers.

Some of the compositions transcribed in this book have never before been
published, among them: Psalm 23, Y'hi ratson for Rosh Hodesh, Kiddush
for Rosh Hashanah, and V'shamru for Shabbat. These prayer settings were
transmitted to Deborah through her father, Theodore Katchko, whose singing,
along with the author's, is also represented on the CD. That is what makes this
collection a representation of three generations of Katchko hazzanut, for it
includes the singing of Hazzanim Adolph Katchko from the 1940s, Theodore
Katchko — a bass-baritone like his father — during the 1980s-and-90s, and
mezzo-soprano Deborah Katchko Gray in the present day. Spanning seven
decades, the recordings will enable serious students and lovers of hazzanut
to discern echoes of the chant style that was imported from Eastern Europe,
along with adaptations to American congregations' preferences after WWII,
and amalgamation with the more rhythmic folk-ballad approach of today's
liturgical music.

Adolph Katchko had masterfully crafted a cantorial line that blended the
introspective zogakhts style with an outgoing long singing line, always in
service of the text. Take, for instance, the signature Psalm of Friday night,
Adonai Malakh ("God Reigns"; Example 1, next page).

The Psalm's opening (lines 1-2) consists of three short phrases containing
three words each. A subsequent single longer phrase of five words (line 2)
counterbalances the three initial shorter ones with a jubilant trumpet call
leading to the climactic word atah ("You"; referring to the Eternal One). Lines

256

Text: Friday Night Liturgy
Original Key— Capo 4
Recording— Capo 1

Adonai malakh

(Psalm 93)

Music: Adolph Katchko

Example 1. Adolph Katchkos combination of zogakhtsn with long singing phra
257

3-4 re-use the pattern: three short phrases of three words each. This time
they center around chromatically lowered 7th and 6th degrees (C, Bb), before
resolving in an extended cadence on the tonic (D). This opening section can
be seen as a modernization of the zogakhts approach; tone-painting short
phrases— rather than individual words— in sequence, while maintaining an
overarching form of antecedent-and-consequent half- verses.

Line 5 brings into play a long singing phrase. It visits the 4th degree (G).
Its six words are answered by a shorter phrase (line 6) whose three words
bloom melismatically to depict the awesome might of God on high (adir ba-
marom adonai). Line 8 returns to the original tonality (D) via a leap to the
octave (D) — Katchko's heroic upper-middle register — on the final word. The
composition ends in the welcoming calm of Kabbalat Shabbat nusah with
two so-called "Mi-Sinai Tunes." These pertain to sacred melodic fragments
so old that Ashkenazic synagogue tradition venerates them as if they were
given to Moses at Sinai, along with the other Commandments. The two cited
here appear on the words I'orekh yamim ("God is eternal"). They are the High
Holiday "Aleinu" motif, and the t'lishah g'dolah motif for cantillating Torah.
An Ossia option for higher voices also cites the latter motif at the octave.

Adolph Katchko's three-volume Thesaurus of Cantor ial Liturgy— Otsar
ha-hazzanut, published by the Sacred Music Press, continues to be avail-
able from Hebrew Union College. It remains a much-sought-after source of
material for younger hazzanim, essential to the effective fulfillment of their
sacred calling. Similarly indispensable should be this loving documentation
of the Master's tradition, brought to us by Deborah, the third generation of
Katchko hazzanim. Her name takes its root, d-b-r, from the verb "speak."
Like her namesake, the biblical prophetess who "arose to speak in song," she
has gifted her generation not only with a lasting model of sacred song, but
also with the manner in which two preceding generations— her father and
grandfather — sang it before God and Israel in prayer.

Robert S. Scherr is Hazzan Emeritus of Temple Israel in Natick, Massachusetts. He
currently serves as the Jewish Chaplain for Williams College in Williamstown, MA,
and as Chair of Placement and Human Resources for the Cantors Assembly. His
review of Charles Heller's book, What To Listen For In Jewish Music, appeared in
the Journal's 2008 issue.

Gilgl fun a nign— Cantor Arianne Brown's CD—

Eternal Flame: A Yiddish Love Story

A Review/Essay by Gershon Freidlin

Y. L. Peretz — turn-of-the-20 th century champion of modernist Yiddish think-
ing—wrote the story, "Transmigrations of a Tune." Perching on his shoulders,
I need not think myself a chaser after rainbows if I chase down a set of tunes
of my choice.

In the first half-century of Yiddish musical theater beginning in Roumania
in 1876, and soon branching out to New York, many melodies used in such
performances were based upon synagogue modes, and many of the personnel
hovering backstage — often on the sneak — were either cantors themselves or
their choristers, for all of whom the stage was off-limits.

Today we stand on the other side of a divide; cantors may comfortably im-
merse themselves in Yiddish theater without having to look over a shoulder.
This easing of social tension, I think, must affect the performance of such
repertoire by draining much of its life force. Analogously, what would major
gay theater lyricists — like Cole Porter or Larry Hart — have written had they
been able to reach their heights writing for their personal love preferences?
Would we still have known "Night and Day" or "Bewitched, Bothered and
Bewildered"? To satisfy their public, did they have to turn their own days into
night, or bewitch and bewilder their own souls?

By 1930, Yiddish theater compositions were no longer liturgy-based, but
were fed by theater conventions other than those of prayer and cantillation.
Even when prayer modes were used, the resulting tunes no longer sounded
as if derived from synagogue compositions. Thus from early in the decade,
"Joe and Paul," the radio jingle that became the signature song of the Barton
Brothers, and "Yidl Mitn Fidl" from later in the decade, were both composed
in Mi shebeirakh (aka Ukrainian-Dorian), but neither in anyway suggests the
introduction to the Sabbath musaf service where that mode gets its name.

Compare those tunes to a Mi shebeimkh-mode composition of a generation
earlier: the signature song of the musical comedy star, Ludwig Satz: "Attorney
Street." So khazonish is that number, that for a decade I've placed the melody
right back into the Mi shebeirakh prayer when leading services.

Incredulous? Start chanting at the words V'khol mi she-oskim and continue
to the end, following the Satz classic. As an added bonus, the final sentence-
beginning on V'yishlakh, makes for easy congregational singing and may be

repeated. Being able to shift the tune to-and-fro from the stage to the bimah
is the highest test of authenticity of a liturgy-based theater song.

An informant once told me how the Yiddish street used to explode when
the stage hit, "Attorney Street," was heard: the listeners were getting a dose
of the Supplementary Sabbath Soul.

Two more liturgy-based Yiddish songs are, "Eli Eli" and "Khosn Kalleh,
Mazltov," both from the 1890s; the former in Freygish (Ahavah Rabbah), the
latter in Mi shebeirakh. One became a Jewish-outpour standard that reached
all the way to Perry Como and Johnny Mathis; the latter, a wedding staple that
reached to Julie Andrews in the 1967 film, Thoroughly Modern Millie. Com-
pare their lasting presence to that of the later "Hava Nagilah" that stretched
from the prime of Idelsohn to Harry Belafonte to the public address system
at Yankee Stadium.

When I heard that a cantor, occupying a major pulpit, who immerses herself
in Yiddish — not only in theater, but also, in journalism (Arianne Brown writes
an advice column for the weekly Yiddish Forverts) has a CD to review — I
pounded my desk as I thought: here is a singer who might briefly bring back
to Yiddish theater, songs based upon the earlier liturgical base. Recalling the
Peretz story, "A gilglfun a nign" about transmigrating tunes, also fanned
my hopes that the encased CD sitting on my desk awaiting its turn on the
turntable — I wished — might give us a taste of transmigration.

It does, but not in the way I'd hoped for before listening. With Eternal
Flame, Cantor Brown does not revive liturgy-based Yiddish theater songs
but does show us a voice that could, if it so wished.

The icon of theater songs— oh so Yiddish, yet-non-liturgic based— that in
1932 broke the ground, is Sholom Secunda's, Bamir bistu sheyn (orthography
mine). Rather than perform it, Aaron Lebedev, comic dancer and singer, tried
to get it excised from the show. That may be worse than the composer's selling
it off for thirty pieces of silver (dollars) to a publisher. Later in the decade,
Sammy Cahn translated it into English for Decca Records; Benny Goodman
and the Andrew Sisters then sent it to the top of the charts. A good slice of
gilgl at work there: translation gave the song a life it otherwise would not have
had. Still up and running, it is included, in both Yiddish and English, on the
Brown CD— in a duet with Mike Burstyn.

The recording under discussion here— a sampler of Yiddish theater love
songs from the romantic to the nostalgic for home and mother— shows a
voice that sounds so authentic for Yiddish theater that, were I the impresario
Boris Thomashefsky (19th-century Khazn Nisse Belzer's onetime boy so-

prano), I'd cast her, sight unseen, in Yiddish musicals. Where Thomashefsky
treads, Ziegfeld from the Follies cannot be far behind. And, I'm not jiving
the onetime boy soprano from Berdichev. When push came to shove, Sir
Bores (tombstone spelling) was no better in holding onto his fortune than
America's greatest showman.

Even if the tunes on the CD are not transmigrating, the voice is. Not only
is Arianne Brown's vocal timbre authentic for Yiddish musical theater of a
few generations ago, it is also better trained than were the voices of the stars
there. No screeching or tremolos. The voice goes to the ranges the singer
wants it to; her cantorial coloratura — in a brief but forceful passage — flows
easily, leaving no doubt that at least some females do more than give credit
to what had been male repertoire.

Where is the cantor to go in thinned-out Yiddish musical theater with that
lyric-coloratura soprano? Current offerings — may their tribe increase — cater
to two groups. The first consists of those in whom a vein of nostalgia may be
reached. The second are those, like Russian immigrants, feeling for so long
deprived by Soviet captivity, who are open to any Yiddish sound, but it needs
be elementary. Sing for these two groups, of course, but also find a place in
the cosmos where Yiddish theater song may explode, or break through, if you
prefer a milder term.

My own breakthrough with Yiddish theater song came in 1978, when
Nahma Sandrow, author of Vagabond Stars — a history of international Yid-
dish theater— asked me to come on as a consultant to a play using the title of
her book on a show she was producing with the Berkshire Theater Festival
in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. Staged as a "documentary" on American
Yiddish musical theater, it would combine songs and skits, all in English. The
entire Yiddish theater repertoire was culled for the best that could work in
translation.

Speak of transmigration: Vagabond Stars showed what was both forceful
and entertaining in its area of focus. It suggested— as with Secunda's Bamir
bistu sheyn — that translation is more than a vital organ transplant, but rather,
the most appropriate incarnation for this time.

The translated material I heard in Vagabond Stars made its way inside my
brain and repeatedly sent me back to hear and learn the original. Two ex-
amples. In a movie, the aforementioned Ludwig Satz performed a lecherous
patter song, Gitte vaybele ("Accommodating Woman") — the lyrics of which,
in Vagabond Stars, were not among the most effective of the translations used
there. But the original, with my own English-language substitutions for the

bridge, did work— coming from the mouth of Haman as he mounted Esther's
couch to plead for his life.

Earlier in the Esther text, as women were vetted for the position of Queen,
we heard the Chief Eunuch, as he rejected candidates with, "She's Missing
the Cherry on the Top"— translated from the Yiddish, S'felt ir di rozhinke
(lit., she's missing the raisin). Years later, for my own pleasure, I learned the
original, sung by Molly Picon, music by Joseph Rumshinsky

This uniting theater song with sacred text soon led — with the help of a
major collaborator— to LivingMidrash ensembles. In these, interpolated song
and skits were joined to our holiday or seasonal recitation of Esther, Song of
Songs, Ruth, and Ecclesiastes, to create a theater presentation of sacred texts,
using both the original and the translation.

For me, both Vagabond Stars and Living Midrash showed theatrical ex-
plosiveness— or, what the 'twenties theater critic Gilbert Seldes called the
"demonic," a trait he applied to performers like Al Jolson, Eddie Cantor and
Fannie Brice. When commercial Yiddish theater existed here roughly between
1890 and 1950, it collectively showed an over-the-top intensity, which is what
we might expect. Given that those years covered East European Jewish (and
other) immigration, social restructuring on the grandest scale; our theater
reflected the energy of that era.

Thus, to portray that theater authentically, a demonic quality must be there;
toned down won't do. Cantor Arianne Brown has it in her to express that.

There is one transmigrating tune I'd like to have heard among the love
songs offered on the cantor's CD — one that for me provides a twist on Yiddish
tune transmigration. I'd like to have heard a peppy love duet unfortunately
named, "Yok Tshok Tshok," an expletive used by The Three Stooges. The
song was originally performed by sometime cantor/sometime musical show-
man, Moishe Oysher, with Florence Weiss (his paramour). It begins, Mayn
nekhomele; mayn harts, mayn neshomele (My solace; my heart and my soul).

Stop the music! Did Oysher not only abscond with Weiss's wife, but also
hit on the lyrics of Hoagy Carmichael's great hit? "Heart and Soul" — lyrics by
Frank Loesser— had appeared in the mid-1930s, shortly before the Oysher
song. Its piano version would have reached the ears of every first-generation
American Jew. Its sound, especially for the left hand, came to define pop,
hence, became an aid to assimilation.

(Could the alleged heist have come from the other direction? The Hoagster
might have heard at least a few words of Yiddish from his lyricist for "Stardust,"
Mitchell Parish, which he then handed over to Loesser.)

For me, Mayn nekhomele has a history, going back a dozen years, then on
to my childhood. In 1999 I was working as editor with Mike Burstyn and his
mother, Lillian Lux Burstein, on her English-language version of an autobiog-
raphy of their Yiddish musical theater family, What a Life! (Syracuse University
Press, 2003). While listening to about everything the family had recorded,
Oysher's "Mayn nekhomele" popped up, performed by the then-teenage
Burstyn twins — the she of whom performed with the family till she wed.

Overjoyed was I at hearing the song, I asked Mike to please re-record it. It
has charm when sung by adept teenagers, but it sounds best from the mouth
of a mature man with his Fedora cocked over one eye (Frank Sinatra, anyone?).

Mike answered with what I took for a "Yeah, yeah," for which I had no
rejoinder. After all, I'd not suggested a duet partner. Nor do I have to, now.
On her CD, Cantor Brown sings a few numbers with Mike. They don't need
me to introduce one to the other; they've taken care of that. Now he has the
right partner — and no excuse not to re-record Mayn nekhomele.

My own connection to the song: The only Yiddish song that I remember from
childhood, on a 78 rpm recording, is the Oysher /Weiss Mayn nekhomele. I had
listened to it repeatedly as a youngster and even made up my own scat lyrics
to it. In those days — before the Sexual Revolution — romance was the perfume
breathed and inhaled by every American. It included couple-dancing where
each half of the couple had easy hand/eye contact with the other; mouths
would seek to declare love overflowing; such was the privilege of Americans
of all races, creeds and colors. Each potential romancer rejoiced in the easy
access to soap, hot-and-cold running water and clothes that graced the body.
The romantic aura of the times was ascribed to the young — not what we would
associate with a mature Yiddish-speaking man, even if his Fedora was set at
the proper, raunchy angle. That Oysher made such a vital impression on one
who breathed the culture of the day was an achievement.

I believe there to have been for me zgilgl process at work that eased my ac-
ceptance of the singer's sentiments. A few years before I first heard the Oysher
song, another song was broadcast over the radio— beginning with the words,
"I've got spurs that jingle jangle jingle, as I go riding merrily along." They were
twanged by movie cowboy, Gene Autry, later known for his "Rudolph, the
Red-Nosed Reindeer." Radio was for me the real kol d'mamah dakkah, the
still, small [Heavenly] voice.

Then, a decade ago, in preparation for giving workshops on the crossover
of musical motifs from shul to stage, I listened repeatedly to both the Oysher
(the young Burstyn-twins' version) and Autry songs, and heard a strong me-

Iodic connection between them. When, in preparation for this review/essay
I listened to Arianne Brown sing with Mike Burstyn on her CD, I wished that
the duo had also re-recorded Oysher-and-Weiss's love chant from Brooklyn,
erevWWII.

Khazn Arianne Brown has a voice with k'fitses haderekh — it flies on air:
wherever she sends it, it goes. She is one to tastefully tackle musical migrations
across languages, eras and cultures. On Eternal Flame we hear that voice.

A frequent contributor, Rabbi Gershon Freidlin, Pittsburgh, serves on the Journal's
Editorial Board. In 1999, Freidlin developed a Jewish Community-sponsored lecture,
"Blues Scale and the Cantor's Wail" into a series of workshops at the Carnegie
Library of Pittsburgh. His most recent JSM article, "Som Fon Iz Shlekht?!—In Praise
of a Cutting-Edge Cat',' appeared in the Fall 2010 issue.

Ladislaw Moshe Blum's Double-CD Retrospective

Reviewed by Robert Brody

Ladislav Moshe Blum served as Chief Cantor at Prague's Jerusalem Syna-
gogue from 1961 to 1994 when, on his way to conduct a service at the age of
83, he was hit by a car and expired shortly afterwards. He had lived through
the difficult times of communism when those openly associating themselves
with religious practice could easily experience huge problems. Therefore, he
pursued a professional career as opera singer in order to gain an official and
obligatory "proof of employment."

He was born in 1911, his father a shopkeeper from an Orthodox family,
and his mother from a Neolog (Moderate Reform) background. The Neolog
movement tried to combine Traditional Judaism with Western European
philosophies. Many of the large European synagogues that survived the
second World War were associated with this movement. They generally
boasted a grand architectural design, often in Moorish style, and incor-
porated pipe organs that were routinely used in services.

From the first notes of these recordings Cantor Blum's voice shows a
distinctiveness that is reminiscent of an age long gone. Despite a large
tonal range, Blum featured a predominantly countertenor register. Only
a few cantors have used this style of Bel Canto head-voice reminiscent of
a female sound. That is because according to Orthodox ruling the female
voice cannot be heard during public prayer. Fortuitously, Blum's congre-
gation followed a more Liberal path.

The album provides an informative booklet containing background his-
tory of the recordings. It also includes a fascinating biography of Cantor
Blum — which lay dormant for many years until now — written by Veronika
Seidlova, who edited the recordings. There is also a detailed commen-
tary on the repertoire and performance written by Alexander Knapp, a
professor of Jewish Music at the School of Oriental and African Studies,
University of London.

CD 1 has 14 tracks totaling an hour's listening. They begin with Blum
singing Amar rabbi elazar by Yossele Rosenblatt ( 1882- 1933), in which he
demonstrates the flexibility and range of his voice, effortlessly touching top
D with a fluent coloratura. Three compositions recorded by Mordechai
Hershman (1888-1940) follow: Atah yatsarta and Mitratseh b'rahamim
(composers unattributed), and Sheva b'rakhot by Eliyahu Schnipelisky

265

(1879-1947). An array of other well-known cantors and composers are
represented: Birkhat kohanim and Adonoi malakh as recorded by Moshe
Koussevitzky (1899-1966), L'-eil barukh, Yir'u eineinu and R'tseih vimnu-
hateinu by Sholom Secunda (1894-1975), Sh'ma yisrael and K'dushah by
Leib Glantz (1898-1964). Three other liturgical selections of unknown origin
appear, including Kol Nidre.

It can only be due to the Neolog nature of the services at the Jerusalem
Synagogue that the second CD proves so very interesting, for it offers live
recordings of services on Erev Shabbat, Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah and Yom
Kippur. They document that a close adherence to Eastern European prayer
modes (nusah) existed even in the Neolog worship rite. The Rosh Hashanah
Eve paragraph-endings are in a style which is completely traditional and
similar to what is sung by Orthodox congregations in Great Britain, Canada
and the United States — minus the organ accompaniment.

Some may find aspects of the vocal quality disconcerting. There is frequent
variation from a pleasing mezza voce in the middle and lower ranges to a
falsetto quality in the upper register that might prove a bit wearing if listened
to all day on Yom Kippur. Nonetheless, the CD set's value lies specifically
in its revelation of the range of voices and styles that the art and practice of
hazzanut has encompassed.

The double-CD set is available through the e-shop of the Prague Jewish
Museum ( http://www.jewishmuseurn.czlshop/ashop.htm ).

When Dr. Robert Brody is not pursuing his career as a dentist he is likely to be
preparing for appearances as a tenor onstage, or to be leading services at his local
synagogue in Kenton, London or elsewhere. A graduate of both the Royal Academy
of Music and the Royal College of Music, Robert has sung as concert soloist and
hazzan in Roumania, Russia, Turkey, the Czech Republic and Israel. Several of
his recorded tracks can be heard on www.youtube.com and at the various on-line
Jewish Music collection websites.

Leo Zeitlin: Chamber Music
Edited by Paula Eisenstein Baker and Robert S. Nelson
A-R Editions, Inc., 2008, 199 pages
Reviewed by Charles Heller

In 1908, a group of Jewish musicians in St. Petersburg, led by Joel Engel and
others, and encouraged by Rimsky-Korsakov, got together to form the Society
for Jewish Folk Music. Their aim was to explore Jewish folk music and use
this material as a basis for the creation of original artistic works of the highest
quality. Although the Society only existed for about ten years, it produced an
astonishing repertoire that inspires artists to this very day, including works
by Achron, Krein and others.

The volume under review is an exhaustive collection of the chamber
works (scored for piano, strings and voice, including a cappella choir) of one
of these St. Petersburg composers, Leo Zeitlin (1884-1930). Zeitlin studied
with Rimsky-Korsakov and Glazunov. After holding positions in Russia and
Poland, settled in the United States in 1923, where he worked for radio and
theater orchestras. His biography gives a vivid picture of a musician's life at
that time: music was a ticket out of the ghetto, and emigration meant leav-
ing a land where there was no heat, no food and no paper — not to mention
the ever-present fear of conscription — for a two-story house in Queens, NY
and a regular paycheck.

Editors Baker and Nelson have gone to extraordinary lengths to collect
every stray manuscript of the composer, all neatly edited, organized and
typeset. There is a voluminous introduction, almost a dissertation in itself,
about the composer, the St. Petersburg Society for Jewish Folk Music, and the
nature of the compositions. Unfortunately, not all this scholarship is entirely
reliable — we might mention here the background notes to the setting of the
"Kaddish of Reb Levi Yitskhok," which completely misunderstand its liturgical
setting and meaning — and the analysis of the Ahavah rabbah mode, which
ignores the fact that it cannot be rendered as a single-octave scale but has
significantly altered pitches beyond either end of the mode's central octave.

The book comprises 27 selections, some in alternative settings. Here are
some of the highlights:

Eli tsiyon for cello and piano (based not on our familiar Western
Ashkenazic tune, but on a tune collected by Zisman Kiselgof ). The piece
was so admired that Joseph Achron published a version for virtuoso violin;

a fine setting oiZogzhe, rebenyu (a colorful folk song about the messianic

times);

re-arrangements of works by others, in particular Nowakowsky's beautiful

Shir ha-shirim {Koldodi).
There are also selections in a dramatic style known as melodeklamatsiia,
poetic declamations over a musical background. One selection is in Russian,
with some in Yiddish.

This collection will be of great value to artists planning concerts around the
incredible repertoire of the Society for Jewish Folk Music. I feel compelled,
however, to draw attention to an editorial quirk in this volume which will
annoy any singer who wants to perform these pieces. This is the use of sepa-
rate notes for separate syllables (the note-tails not being beamed together).
It is regrettable that the editors have adopted this archaic style as deliberate
policy (p. 188). Although often encountered in modern publications, it is one
of several impractical devices that were eliminated by Arnold Schoenberg
in his notational reforms. I took the trouble of contacting the editors to ask
why they had adopted this user- unfriendly style in a publication designed to
get the music out of the library and into the concert hall, but am still waiting
for an answer.

Charles Heller recently retired after 30 years as choir director at Beth Emeth Syna-
gogue, Toronto. His review of Cantor Louis Danto's 4-CD Retrospective Album and
Music Collection appeared in the Fall 2010 Journal; his most recent book is What
To Listen For in Jewish Music (www.ecanthuspress.com).

Subject: How I Discovered the Glory That Was Glantz

March 15, 2010

A year ago a close friend of mine lost her son, who also happened to be quite
close with my own son. It was a very painful period for me. Eleven months
later another friend and colleague, Cantor Susan Wehle, died in a tragic com-
muter plane crash near Buffalo. I was experiencing an existential crisis. Aware
that this crisis could become a serious distracting force, I determined not
to take my sacred calling for granted. Instead, I renewed my formal studies,
this time with a new mentor — Cantor Benjamin Maissner of Holy Blossom
Temple in Toronto. For seven months our study sessions revolved around
Jewish music history, Hebrew language, polishing nusah and above all, tales
about the Golden Age cantors who flourished from the teens through the
sixties of the past century.

Fortunately, my synagogue graciously allows me to take Shabbat Shuvah
off, and I availed myself of the opportunity to attend services at Toronto's
Holy Blossom Temple with my mother and my husband. After experiencing
the depth and variety of Beny's davening, we were invited to Shabbat lunch
at home with him and his lovely wife, Hope. As we sat around the Maissners'
dining room table, Beny began describing with incredible enthusiasm his
wonderful memories as a child often, listening to Leib Glantz daven his ac-
claimed (and since recorded) Midnight S'lihot service in Tel Aviv's Tiferet
tsvi Synagogue. I couldn't take my eyes off Beny as he described how Glantz
appeared to him larger than life. I was intrigued. Beny was speaking about
this Glantz person more fondly, fervently and intensely than I had ever heard
anyone describe another individual.

I wasted no time in ordering The Man Who Spoke To God, a substantial
book with two accompanying CDs edited and published by Leib Glantz's
son, Jerry. The morning after it arrived I loaded both compact disks into my
iPod, and began my morning jog. As I listened to the music, my stride became
faster and I could feel the pounding of my heart. I actually heard my pulse as I
ran on the asphalt. The composition L'khu n'ran'nah was playing, sung in the
most beautifully pure tenor I had ever heard. Suddenly, without warning, I
succumbed to what had been steadily building up inside me. Right there, on

269

the side of the road, I cried my heart out, shoulders heaving, unable to catch
my breath! I had an epiphany— a moment of sudden revelation. After what
had seemed like an eternity following the tragic losses of the past year, I once
again felt what I can only call God's Presence return within me. It took a long
time for me to pull myself together and continue on my run.

Since then I have been listening to Glantz every day — several times a day.
Every track presents a new gift waiting to be unwrapped. I still cannot fathom
how one human, one man, could produce such exquisite phrasing, such ten-
derness in his delivery, such vocal agility. He was evidently not a person to go
with the norms, and I've gotten to love the less "popular" of his pieces— the
ones just melting with Hasidic fervor. I want to fall to my knees and weep
when I hear Ki hineih ka-hpmer from Yom Kippur Eve. That one phrase— "Kein
anahnu, kein anahnu, anahnu, anahnu b'yodkha"— reconnects withHashem
in an instant. Above all, Glantz 's d'veikut, his unadulterated devotion to the
Divine, is the one aspect of his persona that I admire the most. Like many
hazzanim who are sucked into the banality of their congregation's agenda
and therefore unable to perform their davening as an authentic spiritual
experience, I have to constantly remind myself of Glantz 's eloquent words:
"I am more fearful of God than of my critics!" I think of Glantz every time I
approach the Amud to officiate; his presence is with me every time I open my
mouth to cue my congregation— and to be cued by them in return.

As my appreciation of Glantz grows, I have sadly come to recognize the
inevitable reality about my generation of hazzanim. I am troubled that the
cantorate's Golden Age is irrevocably over, never to return again. The only
way I can distantly connect to it is through written articles and remastered
recordings of those legendary Anshei emunah— "Men of Great Faith" — as the
old S'lihot liturgy has it. Luckily, my own mentor, Cantor Maissner, offers a
direct link back to at least one— perhaps the noblest— of those outstanding
Eastern European hazzanim. Moreover, he inspires me to feel that in my own
small way I must strive to help keep alive the spirit of that bygone era. I am
optimistic that it can be done if we continually revisit and try to incorporate
usable elements from the works of those immortal cantors and composers.
I am sure that new hazzanim with talent and kavvanah will emerge, not to
take the place of their matchless predecessors— but to keep alive into per-
petuity even an occasional glimpse of the Golden Age and the geniuses it
produced— like Leib Glantz.

Penny S. Myers
Buffalo, New York

Subject: Thoughts on Hearing the
CA's Emunat Abba CD
1) A Grandson's Response

April 5, 2009

I cannot tell how many times I've listened to the Jubilee recording of my
grandfather Abba Weisgal's davening... Last night I lay in bed for an hour, first
with chills from hearing Abba's voice and then with tears streaming down
my face... Hodu I'adonai, Hu eloheinu, even the Amidah repetition... And
my father Hugo in the background... even Abba's 30 seconds of urging a Bar
Mitzvah boy to "practice, practice, practice"... It's just wonderful-
Abba soaring above the choir and congregation in Ashamnu makes me
shiver... his voice must span three octaves. And of course, all that is mixed
with the image of my uncle Freddie taking the tzitzit of his tallit and beating
the breast of the bass next to him while we sang this... Hugo would have said
of the recording: "It's worth all of Freddie's bad jokes!"

Jonathan M. Weisgal, Esq.
Bethesda, MD

2) A Former CA President's Reaction

October 13, 2009

Abba Weisgal certainly knew his stuff — this recording is a revelation! If he
were a tenor — he would have been counted among the g'dolim — like Moishe
Oysher, with whom I sang as a boy all over New York. On the "Pesach" tracks
of this recording he packed more davening into the Amidah repetition — in
less time— than anyone I can think of. That includes the legendary Berele
Chagy, who was Senior Cantor during the eight years I served as alto soloist
in Ben Friedman's choir at Temple Beth El of Borough Park.

The only other person I can think of who davened in the same parlando
style was the dramatic tenor Avraham Shapiro of Newark, New Jersey. What
I notice above all with Weisgal is that he's extremely fluent, and doesn't let
the words get in the way of his vocal line. Yet, it's obvious from his singing
that he knows the meaning of every word. I'm a New Yorker who has heard

the best, but I'd never heard anyone who does what Weisgal did at the Amud
on this commemorative CD.
Sol Mendelson
Lido Beach, NY

3) Another Former CA President's Reaction

November 7, 2009

I just finished listening to the CD and feel compelled to write about this trea-
sure trove of masterful davening uncovered by the CA. The character of this
man's delivery of nusah is astonishing; it cannot be taught, it must be ingested.
I would recommend to anyone approaching this recorded collection for the
first time to open a siddur and listen to track 11 (Repetition of the Festival
Amidah). I did so, and I feel both transformed and liberated. Saying the words
with such speed and accuracy is a perfect answer to today's time constraints.
Then there are tracks 14 through 16 (Megillah Reading). Weisgal's amazing
declamatory rendition of the Esther story, I believe, gives us a glimpse into
a European experience that has been lost. Every time I listen to the various
tracks I learn something new.

Jack Mendelson
White Plains, NY

Subject: Setting the Record Straight on Pioneering Women
Conservative Cantors

January 16, 2011

This is a belated effort to rectify what I'm certain was an inadvertent omission
in JSM 2007, which told the story of how and when women were first engaged
as cantors in American Conservative synagogues. With all due modesty, I
believe that my career has played a significant part in that story, and I write
to ensure that it is preserved.

I was born in Los Angeles to Cantor Israel and Jeanne Reich, my father
then serving the Breed Street Shul (Orthodox) in Boyle Heights, now a Na-

tional Landmark site. He would later be engaged as cantor at two Conserva-
tive synagogues: Temple Emanuel in Miami Beach, and Temple Shalom in
San Francisco, where I grew up. After majoring in Music at California State
University, I applied to Temple Beth Zion in Los Angeles, a Conservative
congregation looking for a cantor. I was familiar with their liturgical repertoire
and customs, having already led services there on occasion. I applied on my
own, without any academic training in the profession, since women were not
yet accepted as cantorial candidates at JTS. I, along with my brothers Barry
and Brian, had sung in our father's choir, conducted it, and assisted him dur-
ing High Holidays. Our father was very supportive of my application for the
Beth Zion position, despite the negative advice of all our friends, because "I
was a woman."

I believed I had a calling and feel for this m'lekhet ha-kodesh, and went
through with the audition. In February of 1978 I was accepted as Cantor by
Rabbi Edward Tennenbaum (z"l), who also functioned as Executive Director
of the United Synagogue's Pacific Southwest Region. My hiring was considered
notable enough to make all the local newspapers, including the Los Angeles
Times, Daily News and Jewish Journal, as well as the nightly TV news. Rabbi
Tennenbaum told me later that he agreed to grant me an audition partly
because he had three daughters of his own. The Temple's Board decided to
engage me as Cantor because they evidently liked what they referred to as
my "authentic" style of davening.

That same spring I attended my first Cantors Assembly convention, at
Grossinger's Resort in the Catskills, with my Dad. When he introduced me
to his colleagues and I told them I held a cantorial pulpit, they assumed it
was Reform. They were understandably shocked when I explained that it
was a Conservative congregation; the only other two women I met there
that year were serving Reconstructionist and Reform synagogues. With the
foolhardy courage that Heaven seems to reserve for children, simpletons and
my generation of women cantors, I got up and sang at the late-evening "open
mike" sessions. Over the ensuing years many women cantors, one of whom
now teaches at JTS, have told me that they remembered my singing at those
impromptu convention sessions and that it had inspired them to persevere
in their own careers. I am most proud of having provided an accessible role
model for them— without even realizing it at the time.

It is also my privilege to represent the fifth consecutive generation of can-
tors in my family. During the 1980s and 1990s my father, my brothers (both
Reform cantors in the Bay Area) and I concertized extensively, and recorded
an album titled The Reich Family— Cantors Four. Now that our father is

273

gone, we still concertize — with the substitution of my daughter Rachel (who
possesses a beautiful operatic soprano voice)— calling ourselves "The Reich
Family, Cantors 3 Plus 1." Rachel became the sixth-generation cantor in our
family last year when she was engaged by Temple Rodeph Shalom in Redondo
Beach. She plans to pursue the full-time cantorate as a career after finishing
college, currently tutoring B'nei/B'not Mitzvah at Conservative Congregation
Adat Ari El of North Hollywood in her "spare" time.

To complete this brief biographical sketch of a colleague who was argu-
ably the first Woman Conservative Cantor (Elaine Shapiro, the first woman
graduate from JTS's College of Music, followed my example a year later — in
1979— at Temple Beth El in West Palm Beach, Florida). I'd also like to add the
following postscript: In 1996 1 was awarded the Diploma of Hazzan Minister
from JTS, having fulfilled the necessary requirements and passed a compre-
hensive examination. That same year I was accepted for membership in the
Cantors Assembly— almost two decades after assuming my first pulpit. Along
the way, I studied with these three hazzanic masters: My father Israel Reich,
Cantor Alan Michaelson (z"l), and Cantor William Sharlin, without whose
mentoring and support I could never have attained my lifelong goal. On the
personal level, I have been married to Philip Freed for 22 years. Besides my
daughter Rachel, I have four step-children and four step-grandchildren.

If asked to impart one lasting piece of advice to the next generation of
Women Conservative Cantors, I would tell them: while moving forward to
embrace the more 'modern' composers of Jewish music, never forget the
rich (no pun intended) tradition of the Great Ones who came before us. The
Golden Age of Hazzanut is to the cantorate what Mozart and Beethoven are
to secular music — its heart and soul — and must not be ignored. Listening to
the Masters of that era will only make us better at our profession.

Linda Rich, Cantor at
Temple Ner Maarav
Encino, CA

.;.:;"■'""

An exciting compilation of 25 new
selections wrtten for cantor and
layperson, two laypersons, and mu-
sical high school students. Hazzan
Kopmar has adhered to the proper
nusah throughout, while making
these concise pieces melodic to
appeal to modern congregations.
This is a work which has long been
needed and should be a staple in
the library of every Hazzan.

In his own inimitable style, Cantor
Finkelstein continues the Shabbat
M'Nucha series with 16 beautiful
selections from the Shabbat Morning
Service. Voicing is for Cantor, Cantor
and 4-part choir, with accompaniment
provided for many pieces. From Eil
Adon to Eln Kelloheinu, including a
majestic American-Israeli anthem in
English entitled "Bound By A Com-
mon Destiny," and a haunting prayer
for healing, R'faeinu Adonai, which
intersperses Hebrew and English. This
collection is a must for every Hazzan's
repertoire.

$39.95

Shabbat M'Nucha

Volume II

A Collection of

Original Settings

for the

Shabbat

Morning Service

By Ciinmr Mcir Finkelstein

tV

AR-Editions, Inc.

8551 Research Way, Suite 180
Middleton, WI 53562 USA
Customer Service 608-736-0070 (U.S. only)
Toll free: 800-831-8200

Recent Publications include:
Leo Zeitlin: Chamber Music

Edited by Paula Eisenstein Baker and Robert S.Nelson

N51(Full Score) $250.00

N51P1 Parts: Chamber Music with Strings $40.00

(vn. 1; vn. 2; va. 1; va., 2 vc; cb.)
N51P2 Parts: Khsidisher tants (cl.; vn. 1; vn. 2; va. 2 vc.) $10.00
N51P3 Parts: A nign (trgl.; bells; wd. bL; tamb.; cym.) $5.00
N51P4 Parts: Eli Zion (vc.) $2.00

Of Related Interest

Israeli Folk Music, Songs of the Early Pioneers

Edited by Nans Nathan, with a Forward and

Afterword by Phillip V.Bohlman

OT4 $36.00

The Folk Songs ofAshkenaz

Edited by Phillip V.Bohlman and Otto Holzabfel

$80.00

=^^:ourfml°J /^^ymgogue-Miisic

EDITOR: Joseph A. Levine
ASSOCIATE EDITOR: Richard Berlin

EDITORIAL BOARD

Rona Black, Shoshana Brown, Sanford Cohen, Gershon Freidlin, Geof-
frey Goldberg, Charles Heller, Kimberly Komrad, Sheldon Levin, Laurence
Loeb, Judy Meyersberg, Ruth Ross, Anita Schubert, Neil Schwartz, David
Sislen, Sam Weiss, Yossi Zucker

The Journal of Synagogue Music is published annually by the Cantors As-
sembly. It offers articles and music of broad interest to the hazzan and other
Jewish professionals. Submissions of any length from 1,000 to 10,000 words
will be considered.

GUIDELINES FOR SUBMITTING MATERIAL

All contributions and communications should be sent to the Editor,
Dr. Joseph A. Levine— jdlevine(S)comcast.net — as a Microsoft Word
document using footnotes rather than endnotes. Kindly include
a brief biography of the author. Musical and/or graphic material
should be formatted and inserted within the Word document. Links
to audio files may be inserted as well, along with a URL for each.

Footnotes are used rather than endnotes, and should conform to the fol-
lowing style:

A - Abraham Idelsohn, Jewish Liturgy (New York: Henry Holt), 1932: 244.

B - Samuel Rosenbaum, "Congregational Singing"; Proceedings of the

Cantors Assembly Convention (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary),

February 22, 1949:9-11.

Layout by Prose & Con Spirito, Inc., Design by Replica.

Copyright © 2011 by the Cantors Assembly. ISSN 0449-5128

\yitagogue:-Musk\

Our Fall 2012 issue will focus on

Sacred Space

with articles that explore how space depends on time, and time reveals
space:

How the Dura Europos Synagogue Functioned as a Holy Place
The Message of Design in Creating Sacred Space
Sanctifying Two-Dimensional Space: The Avodah of Art
Towards Understanding the Second Temple's Acoustics
Yofi u-k'dushah: The Visual Aspect of Sacralizing Space
Form and Symbolism in Synagogue Architecture
The "Spaciousness" of Synagogue Music
Clothes Make the Place
Tales from the Choir Loft

The Journal no longer charges for subscriptions — because its raison d'etre
has always been to elevate the standards of Jewish liturgical music and to aid
cantors and synagogue musicians in furthering that endeavor. By eliminating
cost as a factor, the Cantors Assembly hopes to put this scholarly publica-
tion into more hands individually, and collectively via institutional libraries.
Current and past issues from 1967-2003 are now accessible online through
a "Journal of Synagogue Music / Convention Proceedings" link on the
Cantors Assembly website (cantors.org ). Printed back-issues from 2005-
2010 may be ordered prepaid in minimum lots of five @ $25 a copy, includ-
ing postage, from the Cantors Assembly ( caoffice(fl>aol.com ), using VISA,
AMEX, DISCOVER or MASTER cards.

FALL 2011
VOLUME 36

JOURNA

OF

YNAGOGUE

MUSIC

hazzanut in the 20 th century and beyond