Travel

Leon Kalaora
Sofia
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Patricia Nikolova
Date of interview: September 2004

Leon Kalaora is a pleasant and a dedicated person to talk with. The clarity with which he remembers small details from the past complements his skill to describe unique situations, images and faces. His precise language and insight into the events from the past show the delicate nature of Leon Avramov Kalaora. That is why the wealth of his humble home in the very center of Sofia – very close to the Bulgarian Parliament – is in the spiritual comfort of the books and the warmth of its inhabitants.

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

My family background

My ancestors came from Spain 1. They came from a village with the melodious name of Kalaora, which still exists today, but I do not know if its name is still the same. [Editor’s note: Calahorra is in La Rioja administrative division and Calahorra de Boedo is in Castilla y Leon.] In order to reach Bulgaria my ancestors firstly passed along the north coast of the Mediterranean Sea, then through Greece and Turkey. [Editor’s note: Greece, Turkey and Bulgaria were all parts of the Ottoman Empire during the Sephardi migration.]

They settled here, in Bulgaria, because they loved the nature and the people. They also liked one typical trait of Bulgarians – the tolerance towards every one regardless of their religion, language or ethnicity. Unfortunately, I cannot say what my ancestors did for a living, neither what clothes they wore, nor what habits they had.

What I know is mostly about the parents of my parents. But I never met my father’s parents and thus didn’t know them. The only thing I know about them is that they lived in Turkey, but without the father in the family, so my father had to work from an early age to support his mother, who could not earn any money.

My father, Avram Avramov Kalaora, came to Bulgaria with his mother Sara Avram Kalaora when he was 16-17 years old [1900/1901]. He was born in 1884 in Istanbul. I do not know why they moved to Bulgaria. He always lived in great misery. From an early age he had to be the head of the family. In northeast Bulgaria, Varna, he worked for merchants and craftsmen, but he earned only enough money to buy some bread.

I remember that my father was always very kind to people and liked to joke. He spoke Ladino 2 at home, but he also knew Turkish and Greek, and Bulgarian, of course. Besides, the Jewish religion was very dear to him – he observed the Jewish holidays and kashrut. He never ate pork. He observed the kashrut as best he could, because it was not always possible to find kosher food in northeast Bulgaria. He had a tallit and a kippah. He went regularly to the synagogue.

It is interesting that my father never said anything about doing any military service. So, I think that he never served in the army, neither in Bulgaria, nor in Turkey.

My mother, Donna Avramova Kalaora, nee Farhi, was born in 1888 in Shumen. When she was a child, my mother worked a lot as a maid in Jewish homes in order to earn some money. Gradually her brothers Avram and Isak overcame the financial crisis and they started living a little better. Avram was an anatomist pathologist and Isak was a driver.

My mother was very sociable and kind. She was the perfect example of how people should treat each other. What was most special about her, was her readiness to help people. For example, she visited sick people and did their laundry – and there were no washing machines at that time –, cooked them food, and if she could afford it, she brought them some food from home. I saw all that with my own eyes.

My father and mother met through friends when they had both lost their first wife and husband. My father’s first wife – unfortunately I do not know her name – died of some illness. And my mother’s first husband, Moshe Davidov, died in World War I 3.

The mother of the beautician Visa – the woman who told me how my parents met – now she lives in Israel and I know nothing else about her – once told her husband, ‘This woman is alone and has a son. She is a healthy, nice and honest woman and she is also hard working. Let’s arrange a meeting between her and bai [uncle] Avram – that’s how they called my father then!’

And so they invited them to their home together with other guests. They introduced my mother to my father and left them alone to talk in private. She could not tell me what they had talked about. But in the end, they gradually became friends and decided to marry. That happened most probably in 1917 or 1918, because I was born in 1919.

The most interesting family story which my parents have told me involves my father. I was still a child when he told me and my brothers about some murders which happened years ago. Today we link this story to the Armenians. I do not remember the concrete date, but it must have been before 1921. [The Armenian Genocide took place in 1915, during World War I.] When my father was a seven-year-old child in Turkey, he collected fezzes from murdered Armenians, which he sold to buy bread for his mother, who was alone and poor.

My father and my mother spoke Ladino to each other and to us, too. So, they did not speak much Bulgarian at home and we studied it at school. By the way, my parents spoke a kind of Bulgarian, which immediately showed that they were not native Bulgarians. They dressed very modestly.

My father worked all the time and cared a lot for the family. For example, one summer he worked in a grocery store and got up at 2am to go to the market in Varna and buy vegetables for the store. So, he did not sleep more than four to five hours a day. But he did not own the store. My father also liked to drink, but no more than 50 grams of rakia 4 and always at home – never in a tavern.

My parents got along very well with their neighbors. Their friends were Jews and the neighbors – both Bulgarians and Jews. Some of my father’s friends were Greeks and Turks. But I cannot remember any concrete names or people. I remember only that the relations between them were excellent. For example, we lived in a house with a yard, but neither the door of the yard or that of the house were ever locked. Such were the relations between the people – pure, peaceful and nice.

Growing up

I was born in 1919 in the Bulgarian seaside town of Varna. I have five brothers and one sister. They are Yosif Avramov Kalaora [1907-1953], Jacques Avramov Kalaora [1910-1974], David Avramov Kalaora [1911-2003], Izak Avramov Kalaora [1915-1966], Perets Avramov Kalaora [ 1915-1997], Sara Avramova Lazarova, nee Kalaora [1992-2001].

My family was very united. I remember that my brothers often read the Varna dailies at home, as well as the ‘Echo’ newspaper, which was progressive, that is, presenting left, communist ideas. I remember that when I was young, in order to make me go and buy them the newspaper one of my brothers would tell me, ‘I will spit right here on the pavement, let’s see if you can come back before it gets dry. Come on!’ And so I ran. I remember that my brother Perets read the works of Maxim Gorky 5, ‘Mother’ and others. Jacques and David read mostly ‘leftist’ books.

David worked very much. He gave all his salary to our mother. My other brothers would always find some work to do on Sundays. For example, people hired them to build the electrical installation in their houses. I also helped them when they laid the pipes in the walls.

David and I had the same mother, but different fathers. When the Law for the Protection of the Nation 6 was passed David changed his name. He adopted his father’s name, who was killed in World War I. His name was David Moshe Davidov. Also, during the time of the Law of Protection of the Nation my brother did not wear a yellow star 7 like all Jews in Bulgaria, but one yellow button. It showed that he was a war orphan, but did not entail any other rights.

I remember David Kalaora as a caring husband and brother.

The fate of my brother Perets Kalaora during World War II was very interesting. At first he studied industrial chemistry in Brno [Czechoslovakia]. But after the German invasion [cf. Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia] 8, he had to save himself. He went to study industrial chemistry in Paris. But the Germans showed up there, too. He went to finish his education in Bordeaux; Marshal Petain [1856-1951] governed this part of France, who was known to be a servant of Hitler’s. The French government did not shoot down Perets only because he was too young.

At the same time in Bulgaria King Boris III 9 issued a special decree and ordered his foreign minister to tell the German government that all Jewish Bulgarian citizens in the territories occupied by Germany and in the allied countries must be treated in the same way as the local Jews. That is, they could be arrested, harassed and, all in all, included in that group of six million killed Jews. At that time my brother was in Bordeaux.

One day, as usual, he studied for some exam with a fellow student in his rented apartment. It was a late, rainy and cold autumn day. The evening was drawing near. Perets went outside to see his friend off. They started talking at the front door when two Gestapo officials approached them and asked, ‘Sirs, do you know if Mr. Pierre Kalaora lives here? They meant Perets. And my brother obligingly informed them, ‘Yes, he lives here. Go to the third floor...’ and he showed them his door.

The moment the men entered the building, he and his friend ran away. He ran into one direction, and his friend in the opposite one. Naturally, my brother never passed through that street or that neighborhood again. I was told this story by fellow students of my brother, but I do not remember their names. He did not like to talk about it, even in front of his relatives.

A few months after that incident, he went to the city hall in Bordeaux to change some documents. The clerk there told him to come back after two or three hours and everything would be ready. But Perets started wondering whether the clerk wanted him to come back later so that he would have time to call the Gestapo, or he was just paranoid. So he stopped 100 meters from the building and looked around for any Gestapo officials or suspicious civilian people.

Then he went to the clerk, who, to his great surprise, gave him not one but two sets of documents. One of the sets contained the real documents, and the other – fake ones. And the clerk said, ‘Sir, I feel for you and I want to help you...’ It turned out he was a man from the Resistance. After 9th September 1944 10 Perets returned to Bulgaria for a short period to try to find and thank this man, but he could not find him.

All my brothers had interesting lives. Yosif moved to Argentina in 1930. He died in Buenos Aires in 1953. David emigrated to France in 1929 and lived in Paris. Perets also lived in France and died there in 1997. Jacques and Izak emigrated to Israel in 1948. My parents also moved there after 1953.

So, only my sister and I remained in Bulgaria. She died in Sofia in 2001. She worked in the trade business. She had two children: a son and a daughter. Her son is Yosif Eliyau Lazarov. Before 10th November 1989 11 he headed a department in a clothes manufacturing company. He died in 2002. Her daughter is Dolya Eliyau Doncheva, nee Lazarova.

Our home was in the old Varna district Kadar baba. It was not a Jewish neighborhood and its name is Turkish. I don’t know what it means exactly. We lived in a small old house with a little garden. Its floor was made of soil and covered with straw mattresses.

Everything was primitive, there was no running water, no electricity. We only had a big room and a kitchen, which was also very big. The toilet was made of ordinary boards and there was a hole in the middle of them. It was in the yard. I remember that we also had a small cellar with a wooden door, which opened inwards.

Despite all this misery, I keep very nice memories from my childhood. But I don’t remember my parents taking us to a resort or even to the sea; and Varna is a seaside town, after all.

Varna was the seaside center of Bulgaria. There were around 70,000 citizens in the town, of whom 2,500 were Jews. The Jews were mainly employed in trade or worked in private companies. For example, I remember very well the place where I lived at some point – a two-storey house right next to the synagogue, on 2 Prezviter Kozma Street. Two brothers, who worked as tinsmiths, let out the two floors. There were also rich Jews in the town, but not many. Most of them were craftsmen, workers or a few of them were merchants.

The typical market day in Varna was no different from the market days in the other Bulgarian towns. Villagers with donkey, horse or ox carts came carrying products. They were very poor, because the land they owned was parceled out in pieces of 10 decares, 20 decares, 30 decares. Villagers with larger parcels of land were rare. And if they had more land, they had to hire workers.

My friends Marin Bankiev – he became an ambassador to Cyprus – and Lasko Marinov and I went to work for the landowners so that we earned some money for the community home of the village. There I could see the complete misery of the villagers in the Varna region – people who were dressed and ate poorly. My friends and I worked for people who had 27 decares of land, but had a family of eight people and lived poorly.

Varna was a beautiful town, visited by many merchant and passenger ships, although its infrastructure was not as good as it is now. The most famous neighborhood was Kadar baba. A very well organized Jewish community lived there, though it wasn’t a specifically Jewish neighborhood. The district had a Turkish name like most of the districts in Varna at that time. Although it was a Bulgarian city, there were many Turkish people living in it and in fact almost all people in the city spoke Turkish.

We had various organizations: Maccabi 12, Hashomer Hatzair 13, Bikur Cholim 14, WIZO [Women’s International Zionist Organization] 15. Some of the organizations were political: left Zionists – Poalei Zion 16 and general [right] Zionists – Betar 17. There were differences between them. For example, the members of Betar were the richer Jews. Poalei Zion was considered more leftist, that is more communist and its members were people of the lower social strata.

I was a member of Maccabi first, then of Hashomer Hatzair, in which I was even in the leadership. In Maccabi we often did gymnastics. I was responsible for the technical matters related to the organization of the events, etc.

There was a nice synagogue in Varna. Our landlord was haribi [rabbi] Nissim; I cannot remember his family name. He had two sons. They both became chazzanim. One of them, his younger son, buried my mother while I was in Israel in 1965. Unfortunately we did not have the chance to meet again after that. I was devastated after my mother’s death and was not myself for ten days.

I remember that as a child my favorite holidays were Fruitas 18 and Pesach. I loved Fruitas, because of the nice fruit that we ate then. When I was a child, my father taught me and my brothers how to take part in the prayers when we went to the synagogue. He taught us what answer should be said and when; this is a tradition from antiquity and resembling very much classical Greek dramas, in which the choir is personified as a single entity and has its unique role. But our father did not make us always answer the chazzan.

I remember that I always stayed late for slichot. I remember that we all went to the synagogue with our fishing rods so that we would go fishing to the sea early the next morning. This had nothing to do with the religious holiday, we just used the occasion to do something we liked.

As a child I studied in the local Jewish school, which included a kindergarten, and the first four classes. The teachers there were very educated and excellent pedagogues. My favorite teacher was Formoza, but I do not remember her family name. She taught students from the first to the fourth class.

We had an interesting teacher, haribi Aron Dekalo, who taught us Ivrit. He was much respected and tried to teach us the literary Ivrit. When I was in Israel in 1965, I was asked in Ivrit, ‘Will you leave for Bulgaria this week?’ and I answered, ‘Eineni yodeah,’ while they say ‘Lo yodeah.’ And they would ask me right away, ‘How come you speak such a literary Ivrit?’ And I would say, ‘Haribi Aron taught me in this way.’ He was a very conscientious man.

Unfortunately, I felt anti-Semitic attitudes as early as high school. I studied in the 1st Men’s high school, where all boys from Varna went. But at the beginning of the 1940s the school was full of Branniks 19 and Ratniks 20. I had a classmate, his surname was Avdjiev, but I do not remember his first name. He always showed off his expensive and fashionable clothes – for example, broad trousers, and he boasted about his knowledge of Spanish. He got on my nerves.

In our class we were also separated into ‘we’ and ‘you.’ ‘Our’ group, that is, the group of students with communist beliefs included the majority of the students in the class, but I do not remember their names. I, for example, was the deputy chairman of the temperance society in the high school, and its members were mostly communists. Then I had to be appointed chairman, because the former one graduated from high school.

The Branniks and Ratniks came with sticks and leather belts, showing them off. Our teacher, also a communist, cancelled the meeting. We held it another time. They could have beaten us, although the director of the high school, Mister Arahchiev, was in constant contact with the police.

In contrast to the present Bulgarian high school, besides our classes at school our teachers insisted very much on extra-curriculum activities in the so-called ‘societies.’ The more popular societies were the temperance one, the history one, the geography one etc. We also had a literary society. I was a member of the history society and the temperance one. Every student was a member of such a society. In these societies we wrote papers of three to five pages on some issues and we had to make an effort to get higher marks at school.

We were teenagers at that time, so we were old enough to hold a political view. Those of us sharing the communist idea, had high marks and served as an example for the others. We even persuaded some of our classmates who previously held the opposite political view, to join us.

I will never forget a classmate of ours Petko Petkov, who was a member of Otets Paisii 21. One day in our last year at high school he suddenly disappeared. We looked for him along the sea beach, in case he had drowned, but we did not find any trace of him. After 9th September 1944 we found out that he had become a partisan and he survived.

The concrete story related to anti-Semitism in high school that I remember took place on the holiday of Slavic script and culture – 24th May 1936 22. At that time Hitler was already in power. The cruelties against the Jews in Europe had already started. The school building was decorated in green, with green twigs along the windows outside and inside. It was a real holiday, not like nowadays.

All the students and teachers gathered in the school yard. There were loudspeakers and the teacher of literature was standing in front of a microphone. I hated him because of the following reason. Once I had to be absent from school for ten months. I was down with some severe illness. There were not such good medicines at that time, which could cure you in five days.

When I came back to school, the teacher in literature decided to test me. He asked me to analyze a poem by Yavorov 23. I said, ‘Mr. Karagyozov, this is my first day at school, I haven’t been to school for ten months.’ ‘I'm giving you a poor mark,’ said he. That is why I hated him.

So, on this day, 24th May 1936 he had a report to read. He had a beard, he looked dignified. And he said, ‘In our country and in the countries of the Slavic people, we, the Slavs, will never become compost for the Aryan! What the West is speaking and dreaming about now!’ He did not mention Germany, but everybody knew that only Hitler spoke and thought like that.

Everybody cheered. Only the students from ‘Otets Paisii’ did not. And he continued, ‘No, we should not cheer, but act. Every one of us, Slavs, must act! We should stand up to prove that we, the Slavs, are people!’ And from this moment on he became my idol.

I came to Sofia for the first time on 1st August 1940. And naturally, I started to work straight away for my brothers Jacques and Izi [Izak], who had already settled in Sofia and had a shop for electric materials near Serdika Street. My wage was enough for me.

When my brothers left for Israel, I worked as a press operator on Karl Shvedski Street. At that time there were some very fashionable electric rings – the most modern and easy to use kind of electric stove at that time. I produced their metal part under a license. So, I worked there until 1941 when, as a Bulgarian Jew, I was forced to work in labor camps 24.

In fact, I had a double job, because I did not come from Varna to Sofia by accident. I was recommended by the Union of Young Workers 25 and I was involved in the illegal communist party. As a young man in Varna I had joined the Union of Young Workers. I was recommended by Zahari Donchov from Varna, a classmate of my brother Perets, and I had to contact Jacques Baruh, who was a student of medicine in Sofia. Zahari Donchov and he were colleagues at the university.

I arrived in August, but he had gone to his birthplace, the town of Kyustendil. In the autumn Jacques Baruh came back and we met in the Jewish community house on Lege Street in Sofia. I went to the community house every evening to check if he was there. I remember clearly my first visit to the Jewish community house. I was welcomed by the librarian – the famous writer and activist Haim Benadov. He was a librarian and kept the community house from outsiders not sharing our views.

I definitely looked like an outsider. The situation was quite funny. Haim Benadov was short-sighted and he came near me and pretended to read something. He did that for a while and then he asked me who I was looking for. I said, ‘Jacques Baruh.’ ‘And who are you?’ ‘Don’t you see me, here in front of you?’ And I explained to him that I was from Varna and I was sent to contact Jacques Baruh, but I did not tell him why.

He put me in touch with Jacques Baruh and I met him. He, in turn, put me in touch with Baruh Shamli and he – with Haim Oliver. We were a whole group of UYW members or a youth unit at the workers’ party. One of the activists was Haim Levi-Haimush, future husband of the actress Luna Davidova. I also worked actively, mostly as a campaigner.

The Jewish school was also important for me for another reason. There I met and befriended my future wife Berta. Jacques Baruh introduced us to each other. He told us that we were people from a similar kind, with the same views. At first she and I met mostly at the so-called ‘meetings of sympathizers.’ They included not only members of the WP [Workers’ Party] 26, but also of the youth movement of the party, sympathizers and people sharing the same beliefs. For example, Violeta Yakova came. Berta also came often.

The topics we discussed were on a variety of issues – political, economic, theoretical [philosophical], social and even military ones when World War II started. At these events which resembled a circle of people with similar interests we could see who from us were the best prepared ideologically. Those who were not so well-prepared, had to move to other groups discussing other issues.

After the meetings the whole group went for a walk and if it was Saturday or Sunday, we went to the opera or to a concert. Berta and I were always together. Even as early as then she created the impression of a humble and considerate person who really listened to what the other was talking about. And these qualities were very important for me.

My wife Berta Kalaora, nee Isakova, was born on 29th March 1920 in the town of Gorna Dzhumaya, present-day Blagoevgrad. After she finished high school in Gorna Dzhumaya on 24th May 1937 she went to Kyustendil to live with her sister Buka Haravon, nee Isakova, who was seven or eight years older than her. Buka was married to Samuel Haravon, who worked as a tinsmith.

Berta could not stay and live with her step-mother, whose name I do not remember, because they did not get along well. Her step-mother was also a Jew, but she treated her very badly. But Berta’s father, Yako Sabetay Isakov, was a very nice man. He made quilts at people’s houses. He could barely make ends meet.

In Kyustendil Berta lived only a couple of months, because the Haravon family was also very poor. Then she came to live in Sofia where she worked as a librarian in the Jewish community house at Lege Street [at the crossing between Stamboliiski Blvd and Odrin Street]. She lived at the place of Raina Mayer, who now lives in Shumen, since she married in Shumen during her internment there 27.

Berta lived miserably at that time. She weighed hardly 45-46 kilos. She ate lentils, rice and tomatoes in a restaurant. I also went with her to this restaurant on Tsar Kaloyan Street near Stamboliiski Blvd [near the place where the Jewish Home in Sofia is located now] to check if she was eating well. At that time I worked as a press operator, and I had no problems at my work place because of my origin neither before nor after the Holocaust.

During the War

I remember the date 6th April 1941 very well. There was a bombing over Sofia during the evening by Serbian planes which was Serbia’s answer after the Germans attacked the Serbs from Bulgaria. [Editor’s note: Germany, Italy, Hungary and Bulgaria jointly attacked Yugoslavia in April 1941.]

During the day forty of us were on an excursion in Vitosha Mountain. We came back late and Berta and I decided that she would stay at my place. She went to sleep in my sister’s room and the bombing happened during the night. Right behind our home – we lived in a rented apartment on 51 Benkovska Street – a bomb fell down and four people were killed. That made us even closer, although we were still only friends.

Berta worked in the library only for about a year and two months. After that she left, because she was paid very little there. But for her this year was very fruitful, because it coincided with the golden period of the Jewish community house in Sofia. There were different circles there led by the best artists in Bulgaria at that time: in choir art – the conductor was the famous Bulgarian artist of Jewish origin Tsadikov –, in dramatic art – the famous Bulgarian directors of Jewish origin Mois Beniesh and Boyan Danovski staged plays in the community house starring artists such as Luna Davidova, Leo Konforti, etc. 

After she left that job, Berta found another one, which allowed her to pay the rent to Raina Mayer where she lived for free up to then. She became a typist in a shop, whose owner was a Jew. I do not remember his name. It was on Banski Square. That happened in 1942 when the decree to dismiss Jews from their jobs came into force. Then Berta once again was left without a job, but this time for a longer period.

During the internment, after the Law for the Protection of the Nation came into force in 1941, I was sent to a number of labor camps. I had to work first in the labor camps in the village of Beli Izvor, Ardino region in 1941, and in the village of Klisura, Tran region, in 1942. I came back for a little while from the labor camp in the village of Beli Izvor in November 1941 and then I was sent to the next one.

At that time Berta was worried and visited my parents very often. They were still in Sofia. By the way, when the Law for the Protection of the Nation was passed, my parents who lived in the center of the capital, on 51 Benkovski Street, were forced to live in Iuchbunar 28, the poor Jewish neighborhood in Sofia. They rented an apartment on 31 Sredna Gora Street Berta lived near then, also in a rented apartment. Soon my parents were interned to Shumen and Berta to Kyustendil.

When in 1941 I was released for a while from the camp in Beli Izvor, I came back to Sofia and I wanted very much to find a contact and enter once again the illegal organization fighting against the fascist power in Bulgaria. I missed my former activities. So I contacted Haim Oliver and he became my contact. But everything happened very slowly, that is, I was not given a serious task for a long time, and I started to become nervous.

At that time the commander of the illegal combat special task groups, Slavcho Radomirski, who was famous as a great street fighter, set fire to a workshop with leather coats worth around 20 million levs. These were special leather coats designed for the German armies on the Eastern front. The action was organized as an attempt to sabotage the Bulgarian production for the German troops. The accomplices were Violeta Yakova, Ivan Burudjiev and others. That happened in 1942.

But this action was criticized by the leadership of the Trade Union Commission at the District Committee of the still illegal Communist Party. Some, however, applauded it. Thus, an illegal group was formed whose aim was to continue to organize acts similar to that one. I was also in that group and I took part in it in the breaks between the three camps that I was sent to, that is during the days when I was on leave.

The other members of the group were Slavcho Radomirski, Violeta Yakova, Velichko Nikolov, Ivan Burudjiev, Mitka Grabcheva, Miko Papo, Zdravka Kimileva and Danka Ganchovska. The group was divided into a number of sub-groups which consisted of two to three people and did not know the members of the other sub-groups. Metodi Shatorov was the leader of the whole group.

My sub-group included at first Mitka Grabcheva, Velichko Nikolov, Zdravka Kimileva and me. Its goal was to assassinate General Lukov, who was honorary chairman of the Legion in Bulgaria and Lieutenant Colonel Pantev, who was former director of the police. I hated Lieutenant Colonel Pantev the most, because it was known that he had killed honest people, democrats, who had taken part in the illegal fight against fascism in Bulgaria.

Moreover, General Lukov and Lieutenant Colonel Pantev insisted that the symbolic war declared by Bulgaria against the USA and England should become a real one. That meant that Bulgaria would be involved in a war against the democratic camp of England, the USA and the USSR.

In the end, General Lukov was assassinated by the group of Ivan Burudjiev and Violeta Yakova. My group was divided into two pairs. The first pair had to shoot Lieutenant Colonel Pantev and the second one, Violeta Yakova and I, had to watch their backs. We assassinated him on 3rd January 1943, at 1:23am.

Meanwhile, when the decree for the internment of the Sofia Jews to the countryside came into effect in 1942, Berta was arranged to be interned to Kyustendil and I was sent to my second labor camp [in Klisura, Tran region].

What do I mean by ‘was arranged’? In fact, in the beginning Berta had to be interned to Vratsa, but my brother David Kalaora contacted the commissar on Jewish issues in Sofia and in exchange for some money arranged for Berta to be interned to Kyustendil so that she would live with her relatives: her sister Buka  lived there with her husband Sami Haravon. So Berta lived again with her sister in Kyustendil until 1st March 1944 – the day of our wedding in Shumen.

I have various memories from the different labor camps I have been to. For example, my first camp in the village of Beli Izvor, Ardino region, was bearable. I worked there for six months. In 1941 when the war against the USSR started and there was the danger that Bulgaria could be involved in a war against England, the USA and the USSR, we in the camp managed to steal some stone-mason’s explosive and combat capsules. Our aim was to give them to the partisans with whom we kept in touch. In my second labor camp in Klisura, Tran region, I personally kept in touch with the Serbian partisans who fought against the Germans.

I remember that my stay and my work in the second labor camp were more unpleasant than those in the first one. I was there once again for six months. Everyone in the camp worked very hard and the food was complete rubbish. I remember the hunger. We were hungry all the time. The food was always bean soup with hardly any beans in it. So, we, the prisoners, made jokes over our plates, calling, ‘Hey, show up!’ to the little bean at the bottom of our plates…It was very miserable.

The first three months we wore clothes given to us by the state, but then they made us work with our own clothes, which turned to shreds right away. 42 people lived in one tent. It was raining often. And when it stopped raining outside, it rained for another hour inside our tent.

Despite all that, there were some nice people among the commanders, who were all Bulgarians. For example, the commander of our labor group in the second camp was a great lover of music. Unfortunately, I do not remember his name. Thanks to him we managed to arrange for the great violinist, pedagogue and future professor Leon Surojon to be exempt from work. We wanted to spare his hands.

He, in turn, became our courier. He went to the village of Klisura, Tran region, to get the mail and learned the political and military news there, which he informed us about. We passed them on to the other groups. Moreover, Surojon was the first to know if the commanders of the camp groups had received an order dangerous for us, he warned us and we were more careful.

In the evenings one could often see the following scene in the camp: the silhouette of Leon Surojon playing the violin on a hill bathed in moonlight. His favorite piece, which also became my favorite later, was ‘Funny Story’ by Dvorzak. The commander of our labor group also sat among us and listened to him. During that time we had complete access to his tent. So, one day we stole his weapon without him finding out.

In 1943, while Berta was still in Kyustendil, I worked in my third labor camp which was in the town of Lovech and later it was moved to a neighborhood 4 kilometers away from Lovech. There I kept in touch with villagers from the nearby villages, who had radios. I visited them to listen to the news from the front. I also kept in touch with some partisans. Some of the men in the camp bought cheese from the villagers. The great opera singer Bitush Davidov was also among them. I was released from that camp in November 1943.

When I left my third labor camp, I hurried to go to Kyustendil to see Berta instead of going to Shumen first to see my parents who were interned there a year earlier, in1942. I was traveling in the train with the husband of Buka, Berta’s sister, with who she lived there. His name is Sami Haravon. We were both in the same camp in Lovech.

I did not wear the obligatory yellow star at that time. I only had my mobilization documents which all people in the labor camps had. The conductors realized that my star was missing, but pretended they did not see that. I was very lucky that no policemen got on the train. I do not know what would have happened to me if they had arrested me.

When I went to Kyustendil, Berta told me that she could no longer remain in this town, because she was in danger. She had become a member of the illegal District committee of the Workers’ Party [after 9th September 1944 the Bulgarian Workers’ Party changed its name to Bulgarian Communist Party]

At that time the future professor Simcho Aladjem led the youth movement in the party; he educated the youth in the spirit of communism. His father was a glazier and he inherited his business. One day the police in Kyustendil asked him to come to repair some windows. At that time I was at a labor camp.

While he was placing the glass sheets, a policeman approached him and started asking him about Berta – who she was, why they met etc. He lied right away that they were close friends, because their meetings as members of the Workers’ Party were illegal at that time. Then he told everything to Berta and she told the party secretary Ivan Nidev. When I came back from my third camp, he advised me to do everything I can to get Berta secretly out of Kyustendil.

Berta and I discussed this complicated situation and decided that it was high time we married. And during those days one had to have a serious reason to leave a town with the permission of the authorities: a funeral, wedding or birth. And now we found a reason to leave the town. We went to Shumen where my parents were interned and married there on 1st March 1944.

After the wedding in Shumen Berta and I packed our rucksacks in order to escape to another place, but the illegal organization of the Workers’ Party in Shumen insisted that we stay. The reason was that they did not have any people, whom they could trust to hide them. So, Berta and I took that risk and remained in Shumen until the end of the Holocaust.

The deputy commander of the Shumen partisan squad, Stoian Radoslavov, speaking about his memories of the events before 9th September 1944 still adds, ‘Only three secure Jewish apartments had remained: that of the Kalaora family, of Albert Basat and of Baruh Grimberg.’ And it was true that there were only three apartments that could be used as hiding places, because all the others had been arrested and sent to the labor camp in Enikioy, Xanthi region [Bulgarian occupied Aegean Thrace].

In Shumen Berta and I lived in a room with no windows, three by three and a half meters. A small sagging Turkish house plastered up with mud on the outside. We did not have any money to rent another house and that one at least was in the Shumen Jewish neighborhood near Tumbul Mosque. [Editor’s note: Shumen is a city with a large Turkish population even today and it used to have a much stronger Turkish character in the 1940s.] 29

Despite the risk, the humiliation and the poverty, there were things that brought us much joy. Such an example was Kiril Angelov, my employer in Sofia. He owned the shop in which I worked as a press operator. He was a craftsman, a very humble man. He supported me from the day we met, especially during the Law for the Protection of the Nation. He did all he could to send us money, because he knew that we were starving. Even after I married, he came to Shumen to see me and brought some things I could sell and use the money.

At that time, in order to make ends meet, I dug hiding places in Shumen. The money I received was only enough to buy rice and yogurt. [Editor’s note: ‘Kiselo mlyako’, literally ‘sour milk’ is one of the cheapest and most common food in Bulgaria.]

After the War

After 9th September 1944 Berta and I came back to Sofia. At first, until 1947 we lived with my parents on the last floor of the ‘Shalom’ building [this building still stands today on Stamboliiski Blvd. and is known as Bet Am – the Jewish home, housing the Organization of Jews in Bulgaria ‘Shalom’ and the Jewish community house ‘Emil Shekerdjiiski’] 30. At that time this building was also used as a police hospital for people wounded or tortured by the police. They were treated only to have strength to endure torture again.

For a while after 1944 I worked as director of state trade companies such as ‘Stroymatmetiz’ – the name is an acronym of construction materials and metal products – ironware –, ‘Shoes and Clothes’ and ‘Home Appliances.’

Berta, who worked in the trade union commission before 9th September 1944, which was illegal then, continued to work at first in the City Council of Trade Unions and then in the Central Council. At first she worked in the human resources department and then she headed the organizational department. After 1949 she became editor-in-chief of the ‘Trud’ newspaper 31 which propagated the communist ideas. Berta died this spring after a long illness. She spent her last nine years bedridden and I still can’t get over her death.

My daughter Dolya Leon Andreeva, nee Kalaora, was born on 6th January 1948 in Sofia. She finished the Russian high school ‘A. S. Pushkin’ [communist elite high school before 1989.]. Once a classmate of hers in the elementary classes mentioned to her that she was a Jew. She returned home puzzled and asked us, ‘Mum, dad, are we ‘evreitsi’? [Editor’s note: The correct word for Jews in Bulgarian is ‘evrei’; hearing the word the first time she used a made-up incorrect version.]

Then she graduated from the Faculty of Architecture Institute of Sofia University. While she was a student there, she had the following experience. In the break between two lectures the students in the corridor were talking to each other divided into two groups. Dolya and her friends were in one of the groups and a Syrian student with his Bulgarian friends in the other. One of her colleagues from the other group said something insulting about the Jews and Dolya went to him and slapped his face.

Today Dolya is married and has a son and a daughter. Her husband is also an architect. My life as a pensioner in Bulgaria was so to say quite restricted, as in the course of ten years I took care of my wife Berta, who was bedridden because of an illness.

Meanwhile I didn’t lose my connections with both the Jewish and the Bulgarian communities. One of the main reasons for me to meet with different people was my devotedness to the communist idea – I communicated mostly with my party comrades. I am still a member of the BSP [Bulgarian Socialist Party, heir to the former Bulgarian Communist Party after 1989]. I spend my pension mostly on medications. Yet, I am not complaining.

My friends after 1989 are mostly Jews. Like most of them I have received aid from Switzerland, Germany and the Joint 32. We usually gather in the Jewish home. We eat together. Then we play cards and talk. To tell you the truth, I do not feel well, when I am isolated from the other people.

During the totalitarian period my relations with my relatives, that is my brothers, cousins, and friends, have always been strong and unhindered. I am aware of the fact that among Jews in Bulgaria there were ones, who complained from obstructed contacts with their relatives in Israel, but I was never among them. I can only feel sympathy for them, without actually knowing anything specific. 

Glossary

Naum Baru
Kiev
Ukraine
Bronia Borodianskaya
April 2002

I was born 15 January 1926 in the town of Bershad. I was named after my grandfather Nuhim Barats that had died a long time before I was born. My mother Anna Naumovna Baru (nee Barats) was born in the town of Bershad on 16 September 1899. This town belongs to Vinnitsa region nowadays, but at that time it belonged to Kamenets-Podolsk province. Isaak Semyonovich Baru, my father, was born in Olgopol, Vinnitsa region, in November 1897. 

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

My family background

My both grandfathers had died before I was born. My grandmother and especially my mother told me about the life of Nuhim Barats, my grandfather on my mother’s side. He was born in 1870s. My grandfather was a merchant selling fabrics, shoes and haberdashery. He was a well-off and respected man. He lived in Odessa (to do his job there) but he often came to Bershad. Nuhim Barats died in 1921 when my mother was 23.  

The name of my grandfather’s mother was Genendel Barats. I don’t know her nee name. She came from the village of Ternovka, Vinnitsa region. My great grandmother Genendel lived longer than her son Nuhim did. She died in Ternovka in 1927. She must have been about 90 yeas old when she died.

My grandfather Nuhim had a sister and a younger brother. I knew them. His brother’s name was Benchik (Bencion) and his sister’s name was Rieva. She took her husband’s last name: Furman.  Rieva was religious. She didn’t live with us in Kharkov, but she often came to visit us. She always brought my mother something delicious. I remember Bencion taking me out on my sledges in Monastyrskaya Street in Kharkov, when I was a child. He loved me a lot. Everybody was spoiling me.   I also remember Uncle Bencion giving me more money at Hanukkah than he gave to the others [according to the Jewish tradition all adults had to give some pocket allowances to the children]. He took much care about our family and me, in particular, because he had a son of my age.

Rachil Barats, Nuhim’s wife, nee Dovner, my grandmother on my mother’s side, was born in 1877 in Bershad, Vinnitsa region. My grandmother Rukha (Rachil) in 1933 in Kharkov where she was living with her son and she was buried there, too.

My grandmother had two brothers: Gersh Dovner and a younger brother Iosiph Dovner, and three sisters: Bella (Beila), Evgenia (Genia) and Donia, in marriage was Khazanova. Her husband Moisey Khazanov was a successful sugar dealer. All 3 sisters and their brother Gersh lived in Donetsk. Unfortunately, I never met them and have no more information about them.

My grandfather Nuhim and my grandmother Rachil had 3 children: my mother Anna (Hanna), born in 1899, her sister Sarah-Genia, born in 1897, and her brother Joseph (Yuzia) born in 1902. My grandfather Nuhim gave education to his children. Later I will tell you about each of his children.   

I remember Bershad of around 1929. I remember a narrow street, my grandmother Rachil and my old great grandmother Haya, her mother. There was a synagogue in Bershad. My grandmother told me that women were not allowed to come inside the synagogue and she came to the synagogue to meet her husband, my grandfather. I was a little boy then and I constantly asked “Where’s my Granny?” I loved her so much. As for my mother, she used to spank me, but I must have been about 3 years old.

Shymon Baru, my father’s father, born in 1870s, died in 1906 when my father was only 9 years old. My grandfather was involved in commerce in Vinnitsa and Olgopol. I believe he was involved in sugar manufacture that was just beginning to develop. After he died his father (my great grandfather) was taking care of the children: my father and his brothers. Their sisters stayed with their grandmother.

Bluma Baru, my father’s mother, nee Zilbermann, was born in 1870 in Vinnitsa region. My grandmother was a housewife and was raising the children. There were 5 of them in the family: 3 sons and 2 daughters. Adel, born in 1890 was the oldest, then came Michael, born in 1894, my father Isaak, born in 1897, and two younger children: daughter Sophia, born in 1900 and their son Emmanuil (Monia), born in 1902.   

My grandmother was religious. She went to the synagogue (women were praying on the 2nd floor of the synagogue) on holidays, observed traditions, honored Sabbath and celebrated the Jewish holidays. They spoke Yiddish in the family. After the children grew up, my grandmother went to live with her son Michael in Vinnitsa. He was a widower by that time. Later he got married for the 2nd time and my grandmother went to live with her daughter Adel in Novorossiysk. We visited them twice in Novorossiysk: in 1936 and in 1938. My grandmother Bluma died in Novorossiysk in 1941. 

My Grandparents spoke Yiddish in their families. When I was visiting them I heard them speaking Yiddish and I even understood it, but they spoke Russian to me. I learned quite a few words. It went just by itself, although sometimes I had to ask what this or that word meant.  My mother only spoke Russian to me. But when my parents wanted to talk about something that I was not supposed to hear they spoke Yiddish. 

My both grandmothers were strict. They had many children and they treated me strictly. They were housewives and were both religious, as far as I remember. Both families always celebrated Jewish holidays, although the authorities did not appreciate this at that time. However, there were candles and matsa and all kinds of Jewish dishes. I knew what kosher food was about. I remember my grandmother cooking tsymes. They were buying pumpkins, beans to boil and cook tsymes. I can’t remember the recipe in all detail, of course. They baked very delicious gomentash (this such triangular patty with poppy and nuts) and the traditional triangle little pies with poppy seed at Purim. I just loved them. As for my mother, I was her only son and she was very strict with me. My father was an atheist, but my mother was religious.  After my grandmother Rachil died in 1933 my mother took my grandfather’s thales. My mother put it in the farthest spot in the wardrobe where my father never even looked. It was a sacred thing for my mother, but my father wouldn’t understand it if he saw her hiding it. He was a convinced atheist. My mother was raised in a religious family and was a believer.

My mother didn’t go to the synagogue and didn’t have an opportunity to follow the kasruth. We lived in a communal apartment (sharing it with few other families), but my mother always celebrated Jewish holidays at whatever cost. My mother went to the synagogue to get some matsa and kept it a secret from my father. I knew there was a synagogue in Kharkov, but I didn’t know exactly where it was. We always had matsa in the house at Pesah.  My father ate it, too. My mother always cleaned the apartment thoroughly and cooked the traditional Easter food: stuffed fish, chicken clear soup with matsa, made strudel with nuts and raisins. I still remember the taste of this strudel.

There were many Jews in Bershad, as my mother told me. She corresponded with many of them and they even visited us in Kharkov.

Aunt Sarah, my mother’s sister, Wainshenker in marriage, finished a school in Odessa (with a gold medal for her successful studies) and Pediatrics Department of Odessa Medical Institute. She was pediatrician in Kiev before and after the war. She knew many famous families, as she was their children’s doctor. She started working in Zhytomir and later she and her 2nd husband Daniil Abramovich Wainshenker, a Jew, moved to Kiev. He was a surgeon ophthalmologist. When in the late 1920s Kiev became the capital of Ukraine they moved to Kiev. Many professionals were invited to work in Kiev then.  They lied in Kostyolnaya Street. Daniil Abramovich was a famous ophthalmologist. In the late 1920s he was sent to study at the school for ophthalmologists in America. He polished his English there. He was a well-known doctor in Kiev. My aunt even said that he was a member of European Ophthalmologist Association. He worked in a hospital. They didn’t have any children and they invited me to spend a summer with them. When the war began Daniil stayed in Kiev. He couldn’t leave, as he was working in hospital. He was a man of ideals and he believed that our army was not going to let Germans occupy Kiev. He put me on the train and went back home. Daniil Abramovich was an invalid and he was not to be recruited in the army. He had poliomyelitis when he was a child.  He walked with a stick, but he was a strong-willed and energetic man. He went to work in the hospital voluntarily. On 29 September he went to the Babiy Yar 1 with all other Jews following the order of the German commandment.  He was shot there on 29 September 1941.

Iosif Naumovich Barats, born in 1902, was the youngest child in the family. He studied in Kharkov technological institute and lived in a hostel. Later Iosif worked in the Design House in Kharkov, located in the central square of the city. Iosif must have been a very talented employee. During the war he worked in Berezniaki, near Sverdlovsk, and then he returned to Kharkov. He got a job offer in Kiev and he moved there.

At one time we lived with him in Kharkov. After my grandmother died in December 1933 he received an apartment and we all moved there. Iosif was 32 and he was not married, so my mother was taking care of him. He got married during the evacuation in Berezniaki, Sverdlovsk. His wife also came from Kharkov, but they met in Berezniaki. He was among the last people to evacuate. We left Kharkov on 9 August 1941 when it was bombed for the 1st time. We were on the train at that moment. Iosif left some time in September when Kiev was occupied already. He changed one train to another until he reached Russia. And there he stayed – In Berezniaki near Sverdlovsk. I guess he could have met some former colleague that offered him a job. Engineers were in demand then. He didn’t stay there long. He met Luba and they got married and moved to Alma-Ata. Iosif got a job offer from a construction institute. This was in 1942, the year of the Stalingrad battle. He wasn’t recruited to the army, as he had a spinal curvature. He fell when he was a child. He was among the first ones to return to Kharkov after the war.  He got a job offer in Kiev and moved there in 1945. He received an apartment in Bolshaya Zhytomirskaya. I visited him there in 1946. He became Chief engineer at GIPROGRAD (State Town Design Institute). They had a lot of design work. Kiev was to be restored after the war. Iosif was a well-known engineer. He often participated at different meetings; sometimes he even was invited to a meeting at the Communist Party Central Committee. He worked a lot all his life. Once he came home to change and sat in an armchair for a second while his wife was preparing his shirt and tie. His heart failed him and he died instantly. This happened in 1956.  

My father had two brothers and two sisters. Michael Semyonovich Baru, his older brother, lived in Vinnitsa and was involved in sugar manufacture. His younger brother Emmanuil (Monia) Semyonovich Baru, born in 1902, got educated at the Krasnodar Medical Institute. He lived with his older sister Adel Semyonovna. He worked in the towns of Russia. His last job was in Mytischi and he got married there. Then the war began. He was in medical units on the front and perished in the vicinity of Tula during the defense of Moscow. He was Director of a hospital.

Adel Semyonovna was the oldest in the family, I guess, she was born in 1890 in Vinnitsa region, I don’t know the town she was born in. She married Naum Abramovic Averbach, a Jew. He was an eye doctor. They moved to the Caucasus during WWI. They lived in Kutaissi and then in Novorossiysk. My father, my mother and I visited them in 1935 for the first time. Averbach was working as an eye doctor in the polyclinic at the cement factory. He was basically a good doctor and had his own practice. He had a sign with his name on his door and he received patients at home at the weekends, because there were not many eye doctors and there were many people having problems with their sight. I saw the line of people at his door at the weekends. His wife was a housewife. They had two children: daughter Susanna, born in 1912 and son Simon born in 1910. His wife was raising them. Simon wasn’t a very good pupil at school. After finishing school they both entered the Polytechnic Institute. Their daughter studied at the Krasnodar Medical Institute. Simon went to Perm and entered Architecture Department at the Construction Institute. He lived in a hostel. After finishing the Institute he returned to the Caucasus and later moved to Kharkov. Kharkov was the capital of Ukraine then. Simon stayed with us for a short period of time and then he rented a room and got married. After the war he moved to Kiev. He worked at a design institute for some time. I know that he made a design for a secondary school in Kiev. Simon died in 1995.

Adel’s daughter was my cousin Susanna Naumovna Averbach. Her name after her husband was Vinarskaya.  Her husband David Vinarskiy, a Jew, got educated in the Kharkov Institute of Transport and worked in Rostov and then in Kharkov. He was Deputy Chief of the Northern Caucasus and then South-Western Railroad. Regretfully, their marriage didn’t last long. In 1936 David Vinarskiy was arrested as the suspect for theft and shot. In 1950s he was completely rehabilitated. They had a daughter Nelly, born in 1934. Nelly’s last name was Averbach, her grandfather’s name, as it was not very safe to have the last name of the father, executed as a criminal. She got education at the Kharkov University, married a Czech and moved to Prague with him some time in the early 1960s. Nelly Poblavski is a well-known literature specialist. They have a daughter. Her name is Irena. Irena Poblavska was a famous film producer. She made eight films and quit this job. Her son Dodik, a Czech, studies in a Jewish school in Prague. I know from her letters and from our phone conversations that he speaks fluent Yiddish, English, Czech and Russian.

Aunt Sonia, Vetman by her husband, my father’s younger sister, died during the war. She had two sons. One of them (an English teacher) perished on the front in the vicinity of Kiev at the very beginning of the war in 1941. Her second son Boris Vetman, my cousin, (he comes from Kiev), also was at the front. He was severely wounded near Stalingrad and awarded the Order of Glory. He returned to Kiev. He and his wife worked in some shop.  Later he studied at the Department of Journalism (I don’t remember in what town) and became a journalist. Later he moved to Odessa. In Odessa he was a reporter for the “Selskaya Zhyzn” (Village life) in Odessa and covered the news for Ukraine and Moldavia. He was a recognized journalist in Odessa mass media spheres. He moved to Israel in the late 1970s. There he wrote a book “About the evident, incredible things and something else”. He described his life, the surrounding and his meeting famous people. The book was published in 1998.

After Shymon died my father lived with his grandfather in Bershad. I don’t remember my great grandfather’s name. My father told me that he had strict looks, although he was a kind man and he loved and cared for his orphaned grandchildren. My father studied in cheder. After cheder my father finished a commercial trade school in Balta. In 1918 the civil war began. Around 1920 almost at the end of the civil war he joined the red army. My father was in division 44 of Schors 2. He had a diploma issued by the commercial school and he served in the commercial department in the army. He even told us that Schors gave him a horse to ride on his trips. We had a picture of my father sitting on this horse.

After he was dismissed from the army my father returned to Bershad. There he met my mother. I don’t know how they met each other, but they got married soon. Both grandmothers were religious and my mother also wanted to have a traditional Jewish wedding with a huppah, However, my father was a red commander and an atheist and he insisted on the plain civil ceremony. After the wedding my father worked in an oil office in Bershad. This was the period of the NEP 3. My mother was a housewife. I was born on 15 January 1926. In 1929 the oil office was closed and our family moved to Kharkov. I was 4 years old. In Kharkov my father went to study. We were renting a room. My father worked at the Kharkov metallurgical plant as an accountant and my mother was raising me. After my grandmother Rachil died we moved to my mother’s brother Iosif where my grandmother had lived. Iosif was not married and couldn’t cope with the housework. He lived in a communal apartment with neighbors in Rymarskaya street. In 1933 (this is the year when my grandmother Rachil died) I went to school. I don’t know whether there was a Jewish school in Kiev then, but the nearest in our neighborhood was a Ukrainian school where I went.  I studied in it for two years.

Later Uncle Iosif received two rooms in a communal apartment, as he was in the construction business and was to be provided with a place to live. We all moved there, to Darvin Street. These were two big rooms (25 to 30m2). However, we installed partials in them to make a separate study for my uncle. He was a leading engineer. He received an award for the design of some pier in the Baltic republics. He had numerous professional books in Russian and English and he worked in the big room at nights. I got a separate room as well. They arranged it in the kitchen. And they rebuilt the bathroom into the kitchen for my mother to cook.

Growing up

I remember the interior of this apartment. There were wardrobes, and the ancient floor mirror that belonged to my grandmother and also her old clothes-box. We were sleeping on some kind of sofas that consisted of a wooden frame, manufactured as ordered by a client and on top there were mattresses with springs. My mother and father tried to bring good books into the house. We had a whole bookcase full of good books. We had classical and modern Soviet literature books. I loved books. Not litter was beside us then making the Jewish writers, expect that were.

There was a Russian school named after Lenin near our house and I went to study there. There were many Jewish children at this school. There were Jewish teachers, too, there was even one . He got arrested before the war. He was our teacher of physics. And all of a sudden he disappeared. Our class tutor was Vera Zvantseva (Russian) and then Sophia – a Jew. I don’t remember her last name. She was our Biology teacher. I met her later when I was in the army. I’ve also met her at the bazaar in Alma-Ata. She was in the evacuation in Alma-Ata and she stayed to work there. There were many Jews, Russian and Ukrainian children in our school. There was no nationality issue and we all were friends. We played volleyball, football and attended various clubs at the Palace of Pioneers. But there was something else that was disturbing – starvation 4. There were beggars in the streets that came from the neighboring villages; they came into the houses begging for some food. This famine was not so acutely felt in towns but it still touched upon our family.

My friends were my classmates: Misha Drein, Lucia Polskiy and Nina Kreiter. They were all Jews. I guess, it was a mere coincidence that they were all Jews. By the way, Lucia Polskiy became a famous pianist.

Horrific 1936 began bringing repression and arrests 5 that lasted up to the end of 1939. I felt and saw and knew it all. I saw it as it was. We lived in Darvin street. Nika Chervinskiy (we were sitting at the same desk at school with him) lived in the nearby house. Once Nika didn’t come to school. The following day before going to school I decided to call on Nika. When I came I saw that their house was a mess and their neighbor told me that Nika’s parents were arrested and that Nika was taken away.  David Vinarskiy, the husband of my cousin Susanna, was arrested too. Susanna was living with us, as her apartment was taken away by the authorities for the reason of their family being the enemy of the people. Susanna’s grandmother took Susanna’s daughter to Novosibirsk. Susanna lived with us and worked in a health center somewhere near Kharkov. It was far away from home but that was the only job she could get as a wife of an enemy of the people.  She took a tram and went down all the way and there a horse-driven cart was waiting to take her to this health center. 

My father and mother also were scared during these terrible years. I remember that our apartment was on the 1st floor in Darvin street. The windows had shutters on them. Only later I understood why we had those shutters. We got them all of a sudden, although we lived in the center of the city. My father ordered shutters at the factory where he worked. That was because people were peeping into the windows, eavesdropping and were becoming very much afraid of each other. I got up in the morning and heard that some of our neighbor was already missing. The “Black Marias” (black vehicles) were arriving at night to take somebody away.

Darvin street was the House of Officers. The authorities began arresting commanding officers. Kharkov was the capital of Ukraine and there were many military institutions in it. There were many high rank officers. The ranks were different then: kombrig (Russian: brigade commander), komcor (Russian: corps commander). I saw them. My father showed me komcor Dubovoi – he knew him. After Schors died Dubovoy took his division under commandment. Dubovoy lived near our school and we, boys always watched him, a Red army officer, getting into his car to go to work. He was also arrested and shot after.

I went to the food market with my mother as her assistant. I remember this Blagoveschenskiy market in Kharkov. It seemed to me a huge, almost endless row of sellers. They were shouting for their products. The sellers were farmers selling their own products: vegetables, fruit, greenery, milk, cottage cheese and cream. My mother usually bought some vegetables, meat and milk. She couldn’t afford to buy more, considering her salary. I usually begged her into buying some sweets, although I don’t think there was anything but loll-pops. I also remember the stores that were called Torgsin. My grandmother left my mother few golden rubles when she died. My mother bought me boots made in Leningrad in this Torgsin 6 store and she paid these few rubles for them. I was very proud of my shoes. These were my school years and my mother was constantly telling me off for wearing off my shoes like all other boys, because we all played football. But she still took me to the Torgsin because this was the place where one could buy good shoes. My grandmother Rachil also left me a china table set with the coat of arms of the tsar manufactured at the famous Russian china factory named after Kuznetsov. It was only used on holidays: revolutionary, Jewish holidays or birthdays. We didn’t have a big family and we celebrated my mother’s, my father’s, my mother’s sisters’ and brothers’ birthdays and of course, my birthday.

At school we celebrated the revolutionary holidays, went to parades and sang patriotic songs. I went to the theater or Cinema. My father used to bring tickets to the theater and as a rule I went to performances every Sunday. I don’t remember Jewish theaters. I also remember that my father and I liked to sing Jewish songs and my mother joined in with our singing. She was still young at that time. However, my father didn’t remember a song from beginning to end, he only knew some phrases. We sometimes sang Ukrainian songs that were often on the radio.

I spent my summer and sometimes my winter vacations in Kiev. Aunt Sarah and Uncle Daniil invited me. I saw a refrigerator for the first time in my life at their home. My uncle brought it from America. He also brought a motor cycle from the US, this was also new to us. When I grew up he gave this motor cycle as a gift and I remember how fascinated I was.  My aunt and my uncle spoke Russian. Although Aunt Sarah grew up in a religious family, like my mother, she absolutely gave up following the Jewish religion or traditions. They had friends among cinematographers from Kiev film studio. They often got together at my aunt and uncle’s place with their families. I enjoyed listening to their sties about the film making process.

At school I was fond of chess. Also the 1st Palace of Pioneers in Ukraine was built in Kharkov. It was a big structure.  We were told that it was a gift given to the children by the Soviet power. There were no extracurricular activities at school and we attended all kinds of clubs at the Palace of Pioneers.  I also attended a course of streetcar drivers. I was fond of physics. My teacher of physics told me to take a course of streetcar drivers. She said it would help me to gain a better understanding of streetcar operation principles, why it needs an arch and rails, etc. It was all very interesting to me. I attended this course with my friends Misha Drein and Lyucia Polskiy at first. But later Lyucia took to music classes and Misha went in for boxing. I also liked skating. My friends and I went to the skating rink at the Dynamo stadium. 

During the War

I remember well Hitler coming to power and invasion of Poland. My father was a reserve officer and was recruited to the army in 1939 for half a year service term. He worked as an accountant, business manager and lieutenant-technician at a military institution in Kharkov. He was wearing a military uniform. He lived at home, but due to his mobilization to the army he spent a lot of time in service. I hardly ever saw him. He returned home very late. We were actually preparing for the war. Nobody knew how it would start but everybody knew that it was inevitable.

When working at the plant he was leaving home at eight in the morning to return at 10 in the evening. I was already asleep at this time, as far as I had to get up early in the morning to go to school. It was basically my mother that I spent most of my time with.

I knew who Hitler and Mussolini were. We had political information classes at school. I was one of the leading speakers at these classes. I also knew what a ghetto was. They showed anti-fascist films at school. One of them was “Professor Mumlock”7. We used to exchange opinions on such subjects in our family. We had a radio receiver CI-25 or CI-225, I can’t remember exactly. We listened to the programs and reacted to the subjects very acutely.

I remember 22 June 19418, beginning of the war. I finished the 9th form. My uncle’s son Semyon (on my grandfather’s side) came to see me. We studied at the same school, only he was one year younger. When the war was declared he ran to me and we went around the city. We even saw a German plane and our antiaircraft guns shooting. Our whole family got together on this day. We felt patriotic about our country. My father and my cousin Susanna went to the recruitment office just by themselves. Susanna was a surgeon. They received uniforms on 15 June and left somewhere. The military units were formed in Kharkov. My father was sent to a mobile artillery shop at the Lozovaya station near Kharkov. My mother and I visited him several times. I even remember the soldiers’ borsch that we had there.

Later evacuation began. My father obtained permission to evacuate his family from the commandant of Kharkov on 9 August 1941. We were taken to the freight yard, and they showed our railcar to us. Each was allowed to have two suitcases at the most. We stayed several days at this station. We got into a bombing on some day in August. This freight yard was bombed. My mother and her sister Sarah, uncle Bencion’s wife, Fania and her son Semyon and I went to Chkalov region. This was an officer’s train to take the officers’ families away.  My uncle Iosif and my mother’s uncle Benchik got evacuated at the last moment. We were constantly changing trains heading for Donbass. We all met at Mayachnoye in the vicinity of Chkalov.

At Mayachnoye our family (including my aunt) and few other families got accommodated at the water pump station. However, later we were told that this pump station was a military facility, although it was located far from the town, and that it would be better for us to move out.  We had to move to the village from where my mother called her friends and that were evacuated to Omsk and we moved there. 

My father was on the front all this time. From Kharkov he moved to Balaklea. A famous artillery plant “Garroz’ was located there. It manufactured and assembled mobile artillery shops for maintenance and repair of artillery systems. In September they relocated to Kiev. He became a Party member in the army. He was a technical commissary in the rank of lieutenant. He was promoted to captain. Mobile artillery shop #5 (where my father was in service) moved to the front to support maintenance of various artillery systems. It was following the front repairing artillery to be reused at the front. My father was Chief of the financial sector. They were retreating from Kiev to Voronezh. The army stopped at the Voronezh front was holding the defense line for some time there. In 1943 passed to the offensive.

My mother and I were on our way to Omsk. My mother received a certificate as an officer’s wife and received regular allowances from the military office. There were trains to Omsk, but one needed either a ticket or one had to pay to get on the train. We got to the village of Tekulbas in Kazakhstan and then arrived in Omsk. My mother wanted to get to Omsk because the Laitmans, our closest friends, were in the evacuation there. We stayed with them for a few days and then rented a room. I missed one academic year at school. I resumed my studies in the following year. I finished my 10th year of school in the evacuation. My mother was a housewife and we lived on the allowances that we received from the military office for my father’s service in the army. There were some Jews in Omsk, but there were more Polish people that were running away from Hitler. We received rationed food packages at the military office (again, for our father’s service). Besides, people received bread by cards and could buy milk or cream at the market. There was very little meat. We also ate semolina and potatoes, always potatoes. There were not enough clothes. I was wearing what we had taken with us from home. And I was growing out of all these clothes. The only thing my mother bought me there was a pair of winter boots, because it was extremely cold in Omsk.

In spring 1943 my mother’s brother Iosif moved from Berezniaki, Sverdlovsk region, to Alma-Ata and wrote us to join him there.  He lived there with his wife and daughter. My mother and her sister Sarah rented a room in Alma-Ata and I stayed in Omsk to finish the academic year at school.

In 1943 I left for Alma-Ata after finishing school. I passed one entrance exam in physics and was admitted to the Alma-Ata metallurgical institute. I lived in the hostel, located at the outskirts of the town. There were six of us in one room. I was the only Jew. We were constantly hungry and were stealing apples. There were beautiful orchards in Alma-Ata. We also made some kind of soup with a little bit of flour and salt. We worked at the bread delivery service. Each of us received a cart with 100 loaves of bread, 1 kilogram each. When bread was hot it weighed more and we had 1 loaf of bread for ourselves from each delivery of 100 loaves. They weighed this bread at the delivery point and when it was hot it weighed 101 kg. We were given money for this 1 kg loaf and went to the market to buy some sour milk and flour for our soup. Sometimes I visited my aunt Sarah (she was working at the kindergarten) and she gave me a glass of cocoa. My father was sending his certificate to my mother for additional provisions from the military office. And every now and then my mother sold either my father’s shirt or her dress at the flea market. The Kazakh people paid more for bed linen. So, we were selling gradually things that we had with us to keep living.

I didn’t feel any national segregation at the institute. The Bekkers (two sisters – Jews) were my friends. I paid visits to them. My Uncle Iosif was called to Kiev in January 1944 to work on restoration of the city. He left with his wife and then called my mother and her sister to Kiev. My mother left in March and I stayed to finish my studies.          

My mother sent me an invitation form from Kiev (it was necessary to have an official invitation request to return to Kiev). I was going to continue my studies in Kiev. This resulted in my mobilization to the army. I was off the military records while I was a student. But when I came to the Dean’s office to get my ticket there was a military registration officer there and he asked me to come to his office. He gave instructions to his secretary to get my documentation package together to enlist me to the army. I argued with him telling him that I was not subject to recruitment to the army as a student. But his argumentation to me was that as far as I was no longer the student of their institute I should go to the army. This happened in September 1944. In two days I was mobilized to the army and sent to Samarkand artillery school. I studied one year and then the school was converted into a tank school. My profession was commanding officer of a tank platoon. Commander of our battalion was lieutenant-colonel Raperman, a Jew. There were other cadets that were Jews: Isaak Pismenniy, Grishka Seriy, and Iosif Tallis.

After the War

My father was in Poland at the time heading towards Germany. My farther served in the army of Marshal Konev. Then my father called my mother to Sandomir bridgehead and she followed him as far as Vienna. This was at the end of the war: October 1944 through May 1945. My mother worked as an orderly in the officer’s dining room. And my father was Head of financial department of these mobile artillery shops. He remained a professional military until 1947 when he retired. However, he remained in the status of civilian in the Central Group of the Armies. In Austria he worked in Blumau and Baden-Baden, in the vicinity of Vienna. They lived there and were going to return to Kiev. 

My father knew that the attitude towards the Jews had changed. But he was a member of the Communist Party and there was no anti-Semitism shown openly at their meetings, etc. He used to tell me then that nothing changed. But things did change. If we take my father as an example – he had orders and medals at the front, besides, he was a participant of the civil war but he left the army in the rank of captain. He was never promoted further on. My father had the Red Star Order, the Order of the Patriotic War and medals “For Combat Merits”, “For Vienna”, etc. (he was awarded orders for the towns that he had liberated.

My parents returned to Kiev in 1951. My Aunt was living in a two-room apartment in Vladimirskaya Street. My father received this apartment during the advancement of our army. But later the owner of this apartment returned and occupied a bigger room. He left the smaller one to my mother. As my mother had left to join my father she left this room for my Aunt. After my parents returned they lived in this apartment until 1963. But my Aunt didn’t have a place to live. At that time my Uncle Iosif got a plot of land and began construction of the house, but then he died. My Aunt went to live there and all relatives were helping her to finish the construction.

My mother went to work, and she also participated in the restoration of Kreschatik9. My Aunt also took part in these activities. We had a picture of them sitting in special coats and gloves to clean out the ruins and put away the debris.

My tank school moved to the town of Cherchik (the suburb of Tashkent in 1946). The school was reformed and we were to go through medical check up. And all of a sudden, that medical commission did not approve me as fit for military service due to my poor sight. They expelled me from the school in the rank of 1st sergeant. But my sight is still all right. This was the first case of anti-Semitism that I faced. I didn’t understand this at that time, of course. They didn’t let me quit the school, because the term of service was 7 years at that time. This was in1947. I was authorized to be kaptenarmus?? at the battalion of cadets.  There were 200 cadets in the battalion, and I was to take care of their uniforms, take cadets to the sauna and keep records of all property in the battalion. I was an intelligent guy and the battalion commander made me a document control assistant. I was responsible for all files, reports and other documentation. I only felt sorry that all my former co-students finished the school and became lieutenants and I was still a 1st sergeant.

I met my future wife in Cherchik when I was still a student. In 1947 there was a big parade on Victory Day in Tashkent. They invited cadets and young people from Cherchik to take part in this parade. My distant relative Fiera (she was of the same age with me) lived in Tashkent. She had her birthday on 9 May. She invited me to her birthday party where I met her friend Zhenia Zats. I gave her the address of my school and we wrote letters for some time. Then at some time she came to visit me. That was how we got to know each other. Zhenia finished pharmaceutics school at the Tashkent Medical Institute. We got married in 1949. She was born in 1927 and both of us had birthdays in January. Zhenia was Jewish, Sheso they  was born in the village of Miastkivka, Kryzhopolskiy district, Vinnitsa region, Ukraine. In the early 1930s her parents left for Tashkent running away from the famine. They rented a clay hut in the Old Town. Zhenia’s 3 brothers and 2 sisters were born there. Now they live all around the world: in Israel, the US and Germany. Zhenia’s father was a driver. But his salary in Tashkent was not enough to make ends meet and he got a job in commerce. Her mother was a housewife. Zhenia’s parents sometimes communicated in Yiddish. But their children didn’t know Yiddish. They spoke Russian and Uzbek. But they all celebrated Purim, Roshso they  Hashanah and Pesah. They ate matsa, but they didn’t go to the synagogue. We didn’t have a wedding party. It was a civil registration ceremony and Zhenia’s mother cooked a family dinner.

I attended a course of officers and received the lieutenant’s rank in April 1951. I was also the Battalion Komsomol unit leader and had the privilege to choose the location of my assignment. I selected Kiev regiment. But I was told that there were no vacancies in Kiev. However, later I found out that they sent few people to Kiev. I got an assignment in the town of Bendery, Odessa regiment. How I became the Battalion Komsomol unit leader was as follows. Rybkin, a 1st sergeant arrived at our school from the front. And he was outraged that a platoon was under the command of a Jew. I was blamed of abuse, of ill performance of my duties, etc. None of it was true, but I was dismissed from my position. But I was immediately elected the Komsomol unit leader. Of course, never again did I speak to that man Rybkin. This was the 1st time when I understood that I was discriminated because I was a Jew, and that they could blame of the things that were not true. In1952 I went to take a course of political officers in Lvov.

On 1 October 1951 Our son was born. We called him Emmanuil in honor of my father’s brother.

I kept in touch with my parents. We often talked on the phone, wrote them letters and spent few days with them during our vacation.

I remember the “Kremlin doctors’ case”10. None of our loved ones suffered then, because all doctors in our family were on the front. There were mainly Jewish names in newspapers and on the radio. The authorities were saying that these doctors formed a group that intended to finish with Stalin. (It was a very serious accusation, considering that Stalin was called “the father of all people, the Great leader, etc.” and millions believed that he was leading the country to its happy future). This was hard to believe. Everybody knew this was nonsense but people pretended that they believed it. I remember Stalin’s death in March 1953. I was studying in Lvov. We were given black armbands and went to the park. There was a stand for speakers there and loud speakers on the posts. We listened to Molotov’s speech 11 and then Lvov Party and military leaders made speeches. Then we returned to our school. There were no classes on this day. Many people felt the death of Stalin as their own tragedy. We didn’t know all truth about what was going on in the country. Later I got to know that they were planning to move Jews from Ukraine and Russia to Birobijan 12 and only Stalin’s death terminated this process.

I finished my course successfully and wanted to get a job assignment in Kiev. The commission didn’t issue me an assignment to Kiev. I was assigned to return to Odessa region, only to a different town - the town of Bolgrad.

Some time later I was transferred to Balta. My wife didn’t work. She was raising our son. Of course, we didn’t observe any Jewish traditions then. It was out of the question for a Soviet officer and in particular, political officer. Besides, many years of military service made an atheist of me. In Balta we rented an apartment. In 1956 the Hungarian campaign 13 began and we were transferred to Bolgrad. We rented an apartment from a Bulgarian woman. Our task was to force the Hungarians to build a happy communist life. We were using military methods. The Hungarians subsided, but they were very much afraid of us and hated us ferociously. The military learn to follow orders. Besides, few generations of people in the Soviet Union learnt to keep in themselves what they were thinking. Many believed in the idea of communism and that all decisions of the Communist Party were right and just. Besides, spreading the idea of communism all over the world was declared to be the course of the Party from the very beginning. This was the time of dictatorship of the Communist Party.

Upon completion of the Hungarian campaign in the late 1960s I insisted on promoting me to the next rank. The higher officials told me that they could promote me to the rank of captain but that would mean that I would end in Vesyoliy Kut, a distant village in Ukraine. People called it Paris, as the nearest railroad station was Parizhskaya. It got its name in the 19th century when Empress Yekaterina was granting the military with lands in the vicinity of Odessa after the victory over the Napoleon’s army. There were stations called Leipzig, Magdeburg and Paris in this area. I stayed 7 years in “Paris” (except for one year when I attended the course of the highest military officials in Moscow). From Moscow I returned to “Paris”. I served as a tank man for 20 years and then I was given an assignment as a political officer. Then my promotion went easier. In 1951 I was promoted to a lieutenant and in 1964 I became a major, and was a major until 1971. In January 1967 I was assigned to serve in Birobijan. They needed skilled, experienced and reliable officers. By the way, there were many Jewish officers in the Far East. The attitude towards Jews was different. I liked Birobijan. From there I was assigned to go back to Odessa region.  I arrived at Birobidjan in the late 1960s. It was a big and bright town. No ruins, no damages caused by the war, like I saw in Ukraine. There was no unemployment due to a number of big plants. Everybody that moved there got a job and an apartment almost immediately. It was the capital of the Jewish autonomous region. People of different nationalities lived there. There were not so many Jews and there was no prominent anti-Semitism. However, there were anti-Semitic demonstrations in everyday life like anywhere else. Not many of thwe Jews moved there for several reasons: severe climate (minus 30 in winter), winters last almost 9 months, summers are short and hot (up to plus 45). Secondly, manual workers were in big demand (builders, carpenters, etc.), and the Jews had non-manual professions (lawyers, engineers) so they could hardly find a job.   Besides, it’s always hard to leave a home place that one is used to. There are very few Jewish families left in Birobidjan. Many moved to Israel, USA, etc. This means their life was not so easy in Birobidjan.

So, I got promotions at work to the Corps Headquarters and became a propagandist, but I still had the same rank, although my direct management solicited for my promotions. At that time a good assignment was service in Germany, in the Western Group of Armies. But Jews could not get an assignment in Germany. Anti-Semitism was on the state level. They thought that Jews were to keep quiet where they were. Not all military commanders were anti-Semitic. Many of them valued Jews and understood them but at the same time promotions were delayed more often than not. If they missed the term of next promotion their explanation was something like “You are still young. We’ll wait until next year” and then “Get out. You’re too old now”. I understood that the real reason was my nationality and submitted my retirement letter when I reached 45.

At 46 (military retire after they serve a certain number of years) I arrived in Kiev. I was a young pensioner. It was difficult to find a job. Wherever I came they told me to come again the following day and when I did their answer was they had no more vacancies. How many humiliations I went through. It was practically impossible for a Jew to find a job. Even an experienced professional that I was could hardly hope to find a decent position. I’ve always suffered due to my nationality. When the others took no effort to get things, I always had to prove that being a Jew didn’t make me worse than the others. Where anybody else took things for granted and got what one wanted I had to beg and bow. In 1972 they introduced a military science class in schools all over the country. I was offered a job of a military teacher and I accepted it. I worked at a secondary school from 1974 till 1997. I taught military science and History of the USSR to senior students. I still keep in touch with many of my students. Many of my Jewish students left for Israel or the United States when they grew up. I knew why they were leaving, I because I knew what anti-Semitism was like. And I always wished peace and happiness to every person that was leaving. My school colleagues remember me and offer me to work a little. But it’s hard to work at my age.

In Kiev I often visited my parents. My father worked after returning from Austria. He was Senior Auditor at the Consumers’ Union. My mother was at home. She had asthma. In 1970 my parents received a room in the communal apartment at the 5-storied apartment building. The authorities installed a telephone in their apartment, as my father was a veteran of the war. This was the only telephone in their building. Neighbors also used their phone to make phone calls. My father retired at 65, but he continued working 2 months in a year. My mother tried to observe Jewish traditions until the last days of her life. She prayed quietly and lit candles at Sabbath and fasted at yom-Kippur.  I always supported my parents. Before we came to Kiev Zhenia had been sending my parents 30 rubles monthly. My mother died in 1980 and my father lived 3 years longer and died in 1983.

My son finished school in 1969 and tried to enter Kiev Polytechnic Institute. He got a 4 at the exam in physics and was not admitted. I helped him to get a job of lab assistant at the plant. Next year he tried again and failed.  My wife and I understood that the real reason was his nationality. My son suffered from this failure. My wife took him to Komsomolsk-on-the Amur at the far East. He passed successfully entrance exams to Polytechnic Institute there and finished 3 years of studies in this town when he was sent to the Moscow aviation-technological institute to complete his studies and invited him to come back and lecture at the institute afterwards. He finished the Moscow Institute and was offered to stay as post-graduate student. He came to spend his vacations with us and stayed two weeks. Then he left and we received a call two days later. Emmanuil said that his place was no longer vacant. He was very upset and decided to go back to Komsomolsk-on-the Amur. His former teachers told him they understood what it was all about and promised to help him. The neighboring area was the Jewish autonomous republic and there were many Jewish students and teachers. He went to work there and in a year’s time he was offered a job at Leningrad Polytechnic Institute. He took a post-graduate course in Leningrad and later he returned to Komsomolsk-on-the Amur. He got a job as senior lecturer at the Polytechnic Institute. He worked as Dean and then Chief of Department. In 1991 my son decided to leave the Institute. He didn’t see any perspective in this small institute. He moved to Khabarovsk and took a course in management. After finishing this course he founded the Priminvest Company and became its General Director. The management of Amursteel plant (metallurgical plant) addressed him with the request to restore their plant back to the operational level. He managed to make this plant profitable within two years. He established contacts with English, Czeck and even Australian companies. 

When he was a student in Moscow Emmanuil met his future wife. Her name is Lubov Malenboim. She is a Jew. She was born in Slavuta, not far from Kiev. After school Luba entered the Moscow aviation technological institute. They got acquainted there and got married. She is a Scientific Secretary of the Institute in Khabarovsk.

Their children were growing up. Zhenia Baru, the oldest, was born in 1978. His parents gave him my wife’s first name. He went to study in Israel (after he finished 9 years of secondary school). My grandson finished school in Israel and came back to Khabarovsk. He got educated at the Khabarovsk Institute of Economy and Law and took a post-graduate course. Ilyusha and Igor, the younger twins, were born on 20 April 1984. They also entered this same Institute of Economy and Law, only they study at different departments. The twins are like two peas in a pod and they decided to choose different departments at the institute to avoid any confusion. Zhenia, the older one, was President of Khabarovsk Jewish Student Organization. The twins also attended all events there when they were still at school.  They even took an active part in these activities. Our daughter-in-law told me on the phone that they danced and sang and were awarded prizes. They do not know Yiddish or Hebrew. However, they have a deep knowledge of the traditions of their people. They like to study the Jewish history. They read a lot about it in Russian. They sometimes bring me books to read. They know traditional food, traditions and holidays. My grandchildren look forward when restoration of the synagogue in Khabarovsk shall be completed. There are not many Jews in Khabarovsk and there is no state anti-Semitism, although there are some expressions it in everyday life. There is a Jewish community and Hesed in Khabarovsk.

My wife and I celebrated the golden anniversary of our wedding in June 1999. Our son died earlier, on 26 February 1999 after heart surgery. He stayed 3 days in the reanimation ward but the doctors couldn’t bring him back to life. He was buried in Khabarovsk. The funeral was in accordance with Jewish traditions. The ritual was performed in an ordinary apartment, something like a meeting house for praying.  The children loved him so much and his death was hard to accept.

I am very concerned about what is happening in Israel, because I understand the history of this country and I know the price of freedom of the Jewish people and how much effort they put into building up their life there. I have many acquaintances in Israel, many of those that moved to Israel. I can understand the position of their Prime Minister, although some people may disagree with it. But it is the right of the people to defend their land and their families. I believe that this is Israel’s land historically. As for Jerusalem, it is the result of the effort of the people of Israel. I haven’t been in Israel, although I would love to visit this country.

Now I know all Jewish holidays and study the history and traditions. Hesed, the Jewish community, supports us. My wife and I often read newspapers and magazines. I am happy to live at the time when my grandson can say with pride “We are Jews!”

Glossary

Molka Mirskaya
Kishinev
Moldova
Interviewer: Zhanna Litinskaya
Date of interview: July 2004

Molka Mirskaya lives in one of the greenest and most beautiful parts of the Kishinev [Chisinau in Moldovan] city center. She resides in a ten-storied building, constructed in the 1970s. Molka and her husband live in a two-room apartment with all the modern conveniences. There are a lot of books on the bookshelves and in a bookcase. The walls are adorned with reproductions and engravings. Molka Mirskaya is a pretty fair-haired voluptuous woman with big gray eyes. She is still beautiful. She meets me affably and shows me into the drawing-room, where her pictures were laid out for me. The way Molka met me and started her story testifies to her keen interest in our work and the willingness to contribute to the revival of the Bessarabian 1 Jewish history.

My family backgrownd

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family backgrownd

I, Molka Mirskaya, nee Vaksman, come from a common family of Kishinev Jews. My paternal grandfather, Khuna Vaksman, born in Kishinev in the 1880s, finished cheder, which was traditional for poor Jewish families. He didn’t continue his education. Khuna started earning his bread and butter early in his adolescence. He was an apprentice at a bakery, and subsequently became a baker himself. Khuna never had his own business. No matter how hard he tried to tuck away a nest-egg to open-up his own business, it never went beyond his reveries. My grandfather always worked for a well-heeled Jewish bread chandler, Goldman.

My grandmother, Khuna’s wife Motl Vaksman – I don’t know her maiden name – was several years younger than my grandfather. Her name seemed to be odd, as usually this name was given to boys. Grandmother was a housewife. As far as I remember my grandparents used to rent an apartment on Keleyevskaya Street. It was a dark and indigent apartment, consisting of two rooms. However, Grandmother took pains to embellish the apartment for it not to look so poor. There were snow-white starched doilies on the table and sideboard. The oven was always impeccably cleaned and lime washed. Grandmother, wearing almost one and the same clothes – a long black skirt and a long blouse – used to scurry around the apartment taking off the inconspicuous dust. She wore a kerchief on her head so that one could see her ears. I thought she did that in order to hear better. Only now I found pictures in the magazines of Jewish photographs showing the same way of wearing a kerchief as my grandmother did. Grandfather also dressed the way other elderly Jews did – a long jacket suit and a black hat.

On Fridays Grandmother changed her attire. She would dress up in white instead of wearing a dark blouse. That was the way she dressed for the holidays, when she went to the synagogue with Grandfather. My grandparents were practically illiterate, though Grandmother knew how to put her signature in Yiddish. Grandfather couldn’t even do that. My grandfather’s family was religious, but they were no zealots. Khuna and Motl observed the kashrut, Jewish traditions, celebrated Jewish holidays and went to the synagogue. But I don’t remember them praying, and they never idled on Sabbath, they used to work about the house. Of course, they brought up children according to the religious traditions, but they failed to make them truly religious.

They had two children: my father Yoyl and his younger sister Rosa, born in 1908. Rosa got married early to a local Jew called Shepshel Khalfin, and bore three children in a row. But she was unhappy. Rosa’s husband died from tuberculosis, leaving three orphans. Rosa, who knew how to sew a little bit, became a seamstress. But she wasn’t able to keep her three children. That is why she gave the oldest son Vevl to a hospice. The other two, Avrum and Ruklya, who was called Raya, stayed with their mother. They were very poor, and my father always used to give some money to his younger sister from our pretty skimpy budget.

In 1941 Rosa was evacuated with her children and wasn’t in touch with us. Only after the Great Patriotic War 2 was over, my father found out that Rosa and Avrum were killed during the bombing of their echelon. He found his niece Ruklya in the Russian town of Ivanovo, where she lived in the orphanage and went to a weavers’ school. My father took her in and she stayed with us until she got married. Rosa’s elder son Velvl was drafted into the Soviet Army in 1941 and was reported missing in action during the first war months. No matter how we strove we didn’t manage to find out anything about him.

My father, Yoyl Vaksman, was born in Kishinev in 1906. After he finished cheder he was a cobbler’s apprentice, and then he became a cobbler himself. By the time of drafting into the Romanian Army he became a cobbler of the fifth grade and this was written in his military pass. I don’t know who nurtured Communist ideas in my father, and when, he always used to sympathize with the Communist Party, though he himself was not a member. He also used to call upon the Soviet mode of life, taking part in the strikes, and Romanian authorities were after him. He was frequently arrested for dissemination of Communist literature. He was put in jail, beaten up, but always released. Once the craftsmen, who were on a strike, were taken away and punished by having freezing water poured all over them in the cold. After that Father got ill rather often.

My father met his future wife at the birthday party of her friend, it happened in 1928. They liked each other at once and started dating. Then they understood that they would never part. It was the time when my father was drafted into the army. They arranged an engagement to be certain that they would stay together. My father was in the army for three years, and my mother was waiting for him. When Father was on leave in Kishinev, he decided not to go back to the army. My father was so head over heels in love with mother that he couldn’t part with her. He was found, arrested and returned to his military unit. They made him serve an extra year. Mother had to wait for my father for four years, and she was faithful to him.

My maternal grandfather Elek Alterman was a cobbler. He was born in Kishinev in 1870. Grandmother Charna was born in Orgeyev [Orhei in Moldovan] in the 1880s. As an adolescent girl, she was noticed by my grandfather, Elek Alterman, who came to a huge Jewish wedding in Orgeyev, being the groom’s distant relative from Kishinev. He saw Grandmother and fell in love. In several weeks he proposed to my grandmother. Their wedding was truly Jewish: with a chuppah, rabbi, klezmer musicians, numerous guests and scrumptious food. Charna left for Kishinev after the wedding. The firstborn came in a year. Elek and Charna had six children. Though one of them died as an infant. I don’t remember his name. All children went to cheder, and then their father gave them for apprenticeship to the craftsmen, for them to help out their parents with maintaining this big family.

The eldest was born in 1902 and given the rare Jewish name Nysl. He was also a cobbler, making uppers. He had a wife, Feiga, and two children. The elder, born in 1934, was named Ella after my grandfather Elek. And with the birth of a boу in 1937, their wealthy neighbor, the sponsor of the synagogue came. He had buried his father Hershl not long before that. Since the neighbor didn’t have his own children and didn’t hope to have any in the future, he offered them big money to sponsor the child under the condition that they give him the name of Hershl. I don’t know if the rich man kept his word, but my cousin was named Hershl. During the Great Patriotic War Nysl was evacuated with his wife and children to the town of Guryev [today Kazakhstan], not far from Astrakhan. He died in 1987. Now Hershl with his family have a happy life in Tel Aviv. We are in touch with Ella Sharf [her marital name], who lives with her family in Kishinev.

Then my mother was born, a boy, Shloime, followed her – a fly in the ointment – as they say. So in a common family of working people, Elek and Charna, a bad egg was born, who didn’t care for study nor work, he just took to the bottle, having fun and sometimes fights. Shloime wasn’t married. When the Great Patriotic War broke out, he went to the front as a volunteer, and we don’t know what happened to him. He could be living somewhere in Russia, or maybe he was killed in battle.

Mother’s younger sister Feiga, born in 1913, became a seamstress. She didn’t get married in Kishinev, besides there was nothing to do there, and she decided to leave for Bucharest. She rented an apartment there, and worked as a seamstress at a sort of factory. She married a Bucharest Jew. I don’t know his name, since she was married only for a couple of months. When in 1940 the Soviet regime was installed in Bessarabia 3, Feiga left everything and came back to Kishinev with her husband, as she was afraid to be separated from her relatives, when Fascism flourished in Bessarabia. During evacuation Feiga and her husband were reported missing. That is all we know about them. They must have died during the bombing of their echelon like my father’s sister.

The youngest in the family, Avrum, born in 1918, became a tailor. He evacuated with our family when the Great Patriotic War started and then at the beginning of the war went to the front as a volunteer. Avrum was severely wounded, and lost his arm. When he came back from the hospital, he settled in Kokand [today Uzbekistan] with me and my mother. We returned to Kishinev together. After that Avrum married a Jewish woman, Basya, and adopted three children: Charna, named after Grandmother, Tsilya and Molka. They all currently reside in Israel. Avrum’s daughters have their own families. His senile wife Basya is at a hospice, and Avrum stays with each of his daughters in turns.

My mother, Tsivia Alterman, was born in Kishinev in 1906. She went to a Russian school for a couple of years, and then she learnt to become a seamstress. Grandfather Elek bought her a ‘Singer’ sewing machine, which my mother took great care of. She lubricated and cleaned it.

The family of Elek and Charna was more religious than my father’s family. My grandfather Elek used to think that one could do without food for the entire week, but for Fridays and Saturdays there should have been a feast. He went to the synagogue on Fridays. The synagogue was located not very far from our house, at Asiatskaya Street. Grandmother laid a festive table, lit candles and the whole family got together to celebrate Sabbath. 

After getting acquainted with Father in 1928, my mother waited for him for four years. My father was supposed to return from the army in January of 1932. My mother was excited to see him. Things were ready for the wedding. But there was a tribulation on the eve of my father’s arrival. Grandfather Elek died and when Father arrived, he saw Mother and Grandmother Charna mourning. The wedding was put off for several weeks, then for some more time, as Grandmother Charna insisted. And when Grandmother broke the subject of shifting the date of the wedding for the third time, Father went to the rabbi for advice, and he said that the wedding couldn’t be postponed for a third time. Thus, my parents went to the synagogue under a chuppah. When I was a child, I enjoyed looking at a beautiful picture of my mother in her wedding dress and my father in the frock coat. Unfortunately this picture was burned during war times. According to the Jewish rites the wedding was modest, considering Grandmother was mourning.

After the wedding my parents moved in with Grandmother Charna. I was born on 19th January 1933, in the Jewish hospital, which was free for poor Jews. I was called Molka, but I don’t know whom I was named after. We lived in a small three-room apartment, rented from a Romanian, Domna. The house was one-storied, with a long veranda, with two apartments – the landlord’s and ours – facing each other. During the first months after the wedding our family lived modestly, not to say poorly. There was a cutting table and my mother’s sewing-machine, our bread-winner, in the first room. The second room was my parent’s bedroom. My grandmother and I stayed in the third room.

Growing up

I have memories of myself since the early age of three. My grandmother always stayed with me. My mother used to work hard. The problem was that even after getting married my father didn’t stop being overwhelmed with Communist ideas. He was an instigator, and participant of the strikes, that is why he often lost jobs. There were few owners of shoe workshops and factories in Kishinev, and soon they got to know my father very well. They didn’t want to employ him and would say: ‘You are a good worker, but a big mouth!’ Of course, Father was not a lazybones, but he never had a steady and well-paid job. My small, slender mother with strong hands and will was the bread-winner of our family. She said facetiously that Father was playing in revolution.

My mother sewed all ladies’ dresses, suits and even coats, as well as children’s clothes. She also mended and remade things, which was so important. Mother’s clients were common Jewish women, our neighbors, the same as my mother and grandmother. My mother, coming from a cobbler’s family, had an immaculate taste. Since my early childhood my mother dressed me up, and she dressed to the nines, too. When I was going outside, my mother would take a break from sewing to see how I was dressed. Sometimes she made me change my clothes, or use different ribbons to match my dress. They said I was a cute child with gray eyes and fair hair, braided in rolls. I wore a snood over my braids to keep my hair in. I was a poor trencherman, and my grandmother was following me with a plate in the yard to feed me, asking me in Yiddish, ‘What are you going to eat tomorrow?’ Tomorrow, or today, I didn’t want to eat anything but hominy [corn flour meal] with fried fish.

I had a wonderful childhood. My mother and grandmother loved me very much, and my dad just adored me. Every morning he used to kiss me while I was asleep and said that we would go for a walk in the evening if I ate well and behaved. I was looking forward to the evening. My father came back home, had lunch, and the three of us, dressed up – my dad in a suit, my mother in a frock, and I with the ribbons in my braids – used to go to an ice-cream café, owned by a Greek. There were tented tables in this Greek café. There were no less than 30 kinds of ice-cream, and my father bought me a new one each time. Then we walked along the thoroughfare and went to the park. Sometimes we went to the sausage store, which belonged to a Russian merchant, and bought tasty sausages, which were packaged in a parcel with a bow. I liked carrying that parcel home. However, my grandmother and I didn’t eat those sausages, as she observed the kashrut. My father wasn’t religious, he would even eat pork fat at work. Sometimes I used to eat a piece of tasty sausage from Father, if my grandmother Charna wasn’t close by.

Apart from the Greek owner of the café and the Russian ‘pork-butcher,’ Jews owned most of the stores, small shops and restaurants. The Jewish population made up 80 percent of the population in Kishinev and almost all of them lived in the central part of the city. Our family kept in touch only with Jews, and it seemed to me in childhood that there were no other people. Yiddish has always been my mother tongue. My parents, grandparents, relatives and my childhood friends spoke that language. Jewish families lived in our yard, a Jewish girl named Klara and I used to play with dolls and with paper wraps. I was worried about Klara’s fate after evacuation. I used to wonder where she was, and whether my blue dress, which I gave to her, had been kept. After the war there was neither Klara nor the dress. Probably her family just didn’t return to Kishinev.

I was friends with a boy called Izya. He was my age. His father was an accountant, which was associated with wealth, as compared to our families of common craftsmen. Izya’s mother Zhenya dressed to the nines, and usually hired a cab. Izya’s family was also famous for having a refrigerator – it was an unseen luxury back in those times. It was called ‘Glacier.’ Aunt Zhenya treated me very well, often asked me to come and visit them. Then my mother dressed me up even more meticulously. Izya’s mother gave me chocolate and the tastiest homemade cookies. She talked to me as she would to an adult, and it flattered me. When I caught scarlet fever, and my mother was with me in the quarantine, the so-called ‘contagious’ hospital, Aunt Zhenya and Izya came to my ward, all dressed up, and brought me oranges. It was very important for my mother. Years passed, and my mother still remembered about those oranges. Izya and his parents were reported missing during the Great Patriotic War.

There were no more friends but Klara, Izya and my cousin Ella, often brought by my Aunt Feiga. My grandmother was my greatest friend and confidante. She was always neat, in a snow-white kerchief. She used to have her hands full about the house – dusting, cleaning, washing and ironing and at the same time she was teaching me, perceiving my childish curiosity and worries. She scrubbed the apartment before Sabbath, even washed the walls. There were starched napkins on the table and on the chairs, old and darned, but clean. Grandmother lit candles, and there was freshly baked challah and wine on the table. My father was present, too. In spite of him not being religious, he respected Jewish traditions, and he let Mother and Grandmother observe them. On Saturday he usually went out, either to see relatives or acquaintances.

Jewish holidays were always celebrated in our family. There was a chest in the bedroom covered with a rug, containing paschal dishes. I was looking forward to Pesach, for the beautiful dishes to be removed from the chest along with the crockery and goblets, even my special little blue cup. When Grandmother kneeled by the chest, trying to unlock it, I asked to take out my blue cup in the first place. Before Pesach Mother even stopped working and helped Grandmother clean the apartment. Just before the holiday, matzah was brought from the synagogue. I don’t remember the rite of ousting chametz from the house, but I remember that there was no bread in the house during this holiday. During seder there was the most scrumptious Jewish food cooked by my grandmother: chicken stew, gefilte fish, casseroles, matzah dishes. My father didn’t observe seder the proper way. All of us just sat at the table, prayed and started eating. Sometimes my grandmother took me to Uncle Nysl for other seders. He was religious, and carried out seder sticking to the Haggadah. We went to Uncle Nysl during Chanukkah, too. I was given Chanukkah geld. Grandmother made delicious potato scones and doughnuts with jam.

Since my early childhood I remember Yom Kippur. I was astounded that my mother and grandmother were fasting. I recall how my mother took me to see my grandfather Khuna and grandmother Motl, for them to chat to me and get distracted from hunger. I didn’t know the reason for their fasting. During the Doomsday holiday my mother and grandmother went to the synagogue. I remember that they left me with the neighbor. I wanted her to take me there, and my mother said that during that day a special prayer was read, and those whose parents were alive were not supposed to listen to it. My mother promised to take me to the synagogue for other more festive occasions. She kept her word and took me there for Sukkot, Simchat Torah, Chanukkah and Pesach. There was a small one-storied synagogue not very far away from our house. But it seemed very beautiful to me. It was the place where the Fascists shot Jews later, during the occupation. The building of the synagogue was burned during the Great Patriotic War.

During Sukkot holidays they built a sukkah in the neighboring yard. My family had dinner with my neighbors over there. I was cold, and I even remembered a Russian saying: ‘As cold as in a sukkah, but I didn’t know that I had to dress warm for the sukkah; however, I liked it anyway. I liked the merry holiday of Purim, and especially how we got ready for it. My mother and grandmother would bake hamantashen with poppy, honey and nuts, fluden, waffles with honey and nuts, which were put in packages. In the morning, a mentally retarded lad came from the synagogue, running an errand. He took shelakhmones and gave it to relatives and acquaintances. Later on, there were presents from them. Later on my mother and grandmother used to discuss Aunt Feiga’s hamantashen, which were better than Aunt Basya’s. When I grew up a little bit, my mother took me to purimshpiels in the Jewish lyceum. 

There were female and male lyceums in Kishinev, as well as a Jewish hospital, health care community, orphanages and hospices for the children from poor families, almshouse, charity canteens, in a nutshell: a great network of ordinary and charitable institutions. Zionist ideas were very popular at that time 4, i.e. the idea to create the Jewish state. Zionists had their organizations, viz. professional schools and sports organizations – Maccabi World Union 5. I was not of age to be enrolled there, but I learnt from my parents that those organizations existed.

At the end of the 1930s, inter-community relations deteriorated with the foundation of the Fascist party of the Cuzists 6 and legionaries 7. They used racism and anti-Semitism in their rhetoric, but there were no open collisions and pogroms as there were in Germany. There were cases of moral anti-Semitism, and my mother had to go through that. There was one tram line in Kishinev along the lengthy Armyanskaya Street to the city cemetery. My mother was in the tram car, fashionably dressed in a coat, wearing a hat and gloves. There was a Romanian officer sitting close to her. An ill-kept and poorly dressed elderly Jew got on the tram at one of the stops. He took a seat next to the officer. Then the officer started demanding that the Jew should get up and leave. The old man didn’t get to say a word. Then my mother sat down between the officer and the old man. The officer took off his gloves, hit the old man with them and turned him out of the tram, telling my mother that the old man smelled. Who knows how the officer would have acted if he had found out that my mother was a Jew.

In 1939 mother gave birth to a son. My brother was named Shepshel after my Aunt Rosa’s husband. In June 1940 I joined a professional girls’ school, Tarbut 8. I was trained for a certain time, along with getting compulsory education. But I wasn’t able to study there. On June 28th 1940 the Soviet Army entered Bessarabia and the Soviet regime was established. My father was rejoicing. He put on a dressy suit and went out to the central street, where Soviet tanks were placed, with the soldiers communicating with people. He came back very happy, showing Mother a simple huge Soviet watch that he swapped with the Soviet soldier for an expensive Swiss watch given to him by Grandfather Khuna. When Mother dared to tell Father that the swap wasn’t fair and equal, he said that the most important thing was that the watch was Soviet. Then he went to the photo shop straight away to get a picture taken with his new watch.

Our Romanian landlord Domna escaped to Romania the same night, taking only precious things with her. Her well-furnished apartment was given to two Soviet officers and their wives. They became our neighbors. These officers’ wives, who had never seen beautiful clothes and lingerie in Russia, put on laced chemises of the Romanian lady, and wanted to go out in them, mistaking the underwear for evening gowns. They didn’t care and were walking in these chemises along the street. The officers and their wives were running amok with such an exuberance of grapes, wine, delicious products and fruit, sold dirt cheap by the peasants. They had never seen anything like that. Hardly had three days passed, everything vanished from the stores: caviar, tasty fish, smoked meat, cheese. Even bread became rare. Then repressions started. Many of those, who were connected with Zionist movements, as well as the remaining rich and well-off people were arrested and exiled. We were lucky to be beyond that. The Soviet authorities took no interest in us. My father was disillusioned. The Soviet regime didn’t meet his expectations. He even said in despair that they were not so-called brothers, but cousins.

During the war

In September 1940 I was supposed to go to a Russian school. But I caught measles, missed the beginning of the school year, and my mother decided that I should go to school the next year. My happy and carefree childhood lasted for another year: Father still went for a walk with us in the evenings – my parents paid a lot of attention to me, teaching me to read and count. I knew the Russian and Yiddish alphabet. And on 22nd June 1941 the Great Patriotic War broke out. My father was demobilized in several days. I remember seeing him off. Father kissed me saying that the war wouldn’t last long. The Red Army was very strong and would defeat the Fascists, so he would be back home in a couple of weeks. He was not the only one to believe that. Many people didn’t even think of evacuation. Grandfather Khuna said that he had lived with Russians, Romanians, and Communists and will be able to live with the Germans. He was flatly against evacuation. My grandparents stayed in Kishinev.

Kishinev was bombed real hard. Mother and Grandmother decided to leave. We left for the neighboring village on foot, holding my little brother in our arms. My parents had some Moldovan acquaintances there. We stayed there for two or three days, as the host told us that the Fascists had retreated and we could go home. Kishinev was on fire, before the Red Army retreated. Mother could hardly pack some things. My mother and grandmother left the city, holding me and Shepshel tight. I remember things burning and collapsing. It was hideous. My mother covered my eyes with her hand so I wouldn’t get scared. We met Uncle Avrum and Aunt Feiga on our way.

We were walking for several weeks. The bombing gradually weakened. It was hard to walk as it was stifling in the daytime, and cool at night. We were also caught in the rain a number of times. Mother went to some Ukrainian village to get a rest and get dry. A beautiful Ukrainian woman was very hospitable. She brought us some warm water and gave us food. It was so good and warm that we decided to stay. Then in a couple of days the scared neighbor rushed in and said, ‘Tsivia, leave. The Germans are ten kilometers away from the village!’ So we ran again. We walked on a road full of fugitives. Sometimes people were sorry for us and put us in a cart, then we went by a truck. Then we went by train a little bit. Mother washed at the railway stations using process hot water, coming from steam trains. We had nothing to eat, we just picked up ears of wheat roots, boiled maize, we ate seeds.

This way we reached Rostov-upon-Don. I was eight years old, and all those things are mixed up in my memory. I remember that we stayed in Rostov for some time and then in a Cossack village near Rostov. This is how we spent the first war winter, but I can’t recall everything clearly now. When the Fascists approached Rostov, we moved on. We reached Stalingrad [now Volgograd in Russia, 1200 km north-east of Kishinev], and came to the evacuation point. We stayed there no longer than a day, were given some sort of soup and dispatched to the railway station. The city was on fire and the fugitives were sent away immediately.

I remember how a soldier lifted me up and put me in the car, he did the same with my brother. They put us in the locomotive. After that my brother got ill and I had an outbreak of furunculosis. When we arrived in Astrakhan [today Russia], we were put in hospital, my brother was in the infectious department as he had measles, complicated by a cold, and I was in the surgery department. My brother died in the hospital. And I learned about it when I was discharged from the hospital. I don’t remember how we went across the Volga, and moved forward. We were brought to Tashkent [today Uzbekistan, 3500 km east of Kishinev], and from there we went to a collective farm 9 near Kokand [today Uzbekistan].

The evacuated were lodged in a club. There was nothing to sleep on, so my grandmother, mother and Feiga picked up grass, dried it and put it on the floor. In several days collective farmers brought some simple trestle beds that we used. We starved, the food provided by the collective farm was not enough. Other Jewish families were our neighbors. There was one family from Kharkov [today Ukraine], another family was from Poland. I went out with other children, looking for food in the collective farm. We managed to find apricots, carrots and beets. Uzbeks let us pick things up from the ground, without taking anything from the tree. Uncle Avrum walked to the military enlistment office, located in Kokand, to go to war and not to starve. My mother and Feiga worked in the collective farm, picking cotton. It was cold. The evacuees used an oven from the club for heating purposes. We filled it with cotton waste and started the fire with coal taken from Uzbeks, as we had no matches.

I remember how in 1942 Grandmother was asking me at night, ‘Feigele, I would like to have some tea to get warm. Take the coal and make me tea, I am so cold!’ My reply was that I was afraid to walk around at night and I asked Granny to wait until the morning. When I woke up, Granny still hadn’t got up. When Mother and Feiga came back from work I told them that Grandmother was still asleep. She died at night, and I being next to her, didn’t even notice it. Mother and Feiga buried Grandmother behind the cemetery fence. Uzbek Muslims didn’t let Grandmother be buried in their cemetery. Then Feiga left. She was told that her husband had been seen in some city, and she left there to look for him. She left and went missing. I never saw her again, and know nothing about her. She must have died in 1941, otherwise, she would have definitely come back to us or sent us a letter, but I don’t know how she perished.

My mother and I remained by ourselves. There was no news about my father and uncle Avrum, and our hope was forlorn to see them ever again. We had a hard life in the collective farm. Mother decided to move to the city. One early morning we packed our few things and walked away. It took us a day to reach Kokand. My mother asked for help in broken Russian. The policeman that we came across first took us to the railway station. That was the place where we could stay overnight. We went to the evacuation point in the morning. We were given food and taken to an apartment. The Uzbek owner of the apartment made our beds in the corridor between two rooms. We had to go to bed after everybody had fallen asleep, otherwise there was no way they could open the door. But it was a wonderful and warm lodging as compared to the collective farm. Mother went to work for the military plant, where valenki [warm Russian felt boots] were made for the front. She worked for two-three shifts without a break for me to survive and not die of hunger.

After a while we received a letter from my father. He found us through a notice he saw in Buguruslan. My mother and I cried from happiness. My father wrote that he didn’t go to the front; he was mobilized to do physical work for the army 10. He worked at the military plant in Ulyanovsk. He enclosed his picture in the letter – unfortunately, my mother didn’t keep the picture, she tore it up and threw it away after war. Father asked us to write and send him our pictures. We went to the central photo shop to have our picture taken. Both of us were unrecognizable, having swollen bellies from starvation and I, having a bald head. Those pictures were sent to my father together with the letter, where Mother wrote about our ordeals and losses – my brother’s and grandmother’s deaths. Father told us after the war that he couldn’t believe his eyes, when he was looking at our pictures, and his friends were laughing at him and telling him that he had lied to them when he said that his wife and daughter were beautiful. They also said that my mother was illegitimately pregnant. Certainly, my father didn’t believe the gossip. He used to write to us and even sent a package with provisions, containing sugar, rusks, canned meat. It was a real joy and treat. We exchanged canned meat for four loaves of bread.

I turned nine, and still hadn’t started school. I was ashamed of my illiteracy in front of my coevals. Our neighbor, a Jew from Kharkov, taught me the letters. I started writing. Then I went to school without feeling ashamed. I was accepted in the third grade. However, my name was changed. When my mother began to process my documents – my birthday certificate had been lost – she was told that the name of Molka didn’t exist and they suggested naming me Maya. There were many other problems, and my mother agreed to it even without arguing. At the end of the day it wasn’t important what was written in my documents. I became Maya then.

My life was getting better. I remember how we were exulting when we heard the news about the liberation of Bessarabia and Kishinev. We understood that the victory was coming, and soon we would be able to return. At the end of 1944 I caught dysentery. I wasn’t fed at the hospital, they decided not to waste precious food on such patients and I was on the brink of death. Uncle Avrum showed up in my ward like an apparition. It turned out that he was decommissioned for being wounded and sent to the hospital in Tashkent. Here he found my mother and me via an enquiry bureau. One of his arms was an amputation stump. He took me with his only hand as I was so feather-light and took me home. I was fed at home. Uncle brought food, and I was getting better. Avrum sold on rustic tobacco and rented a better room for us. Soon he was called to Kishinev. He had the right to come back there as he was at war, and he registered us as his family members. In April 1945 we went home. Of course, our way back home was much shorter as we took the train as passengers with tickets.

I couldn’t recognize my native city. It was devastated. The central part was in shambles. Our pre-war apartment was also destroyed. A Moldovan lady leased a small room to us, where the three of us stayed before my father’s arrival. During the first months after our arrival my mother and I went to the place, where my grandparents Khuna and Motl used to live before the war. Their Moldovan neighbors told us a terrible story about how they perished. After the Fascists occupied the city, they brought all Jews together out of town. They also came for my grandparents. Grandfather, being seriously sick, couldn’t walk and fell in the yard and Grandmother bent over him. Then a Fascist shot them at once. They died immediately without much agony. The neighbor said that they didn’t want to remove the corpses, and they stayed in the yard for a long time as a warning for those who wanted to help or hide Jews. When the bodies were taken away, the blood stains couldn’t be washed for a long time, and were removed later with snow. My mother couldn’t listen to the details of her parents’ death. So she left rapidly and never came back to that place again.

I remember how we rejoiced during the victory day in May 1945, one month after our arrival. Uncle Avrum went back to work, and my mother found clients and took up sewing again. Father wrote to us and even sent us money from Ulyanovsk. In fall I went to school, to the fifth grade. My life was getting much better. In the summer of 1946 Father came back, which made me really happy. We didn’t want to leave him for a minute. The three of us laughed and cried, clustered together. Father couldn’t get over my brother’s and his parents’ death for a long time. Uncle Nysl came back from evacuation with his family. He also became disabled. His leg was amputated after he was afflicted with diabetes. Father and my legless uncle found a small deserted house and began fixing it. They looked for old construction materials, ransacked the shambles and finally were able to fix two little rooms in the house. One of those rooms was taken by Nysl’s family, and the other by my family and Uncle Avrum.

After the war

Soon, our family got bigger. My mother got pregnant, and my parents decided that it was a godsend. They thought if this were a boy, they would stop mourning over Shepshel. But in 1948 a girl was born. They named her Musya. My parents and I loved her very much. In 1947 Father found his niece Raya [Ruklya], the daughter of his perished sister Rosa. He went to Ivanovo and took her from the orphanage. Raya settled in with us. So, there were six of us sharing one room. My parents and little Musya slept on a big bed bought at the market. Raya and I shared a trestle bed. Avrum slept on the floor. Soon Avrum got married and went to live with his wife. Raya, who was my close friend, got married at the age of 17 and left our house. She was always a dear friend to me, and a sister to my mother. Rayechka had a wonderful life with her husband. They had two sons. Unfortunately she died young from cancer. Her sons with their families moved to Israel in the late 1970s. I don’t keep in touch with Raya’s sons.

Father worked at a shoe factory as a shoemaker. He was well-respected and became a foreman. My mother spent the whole day sawing as she did before the war. I helped her about the house, looking after my little sister. I finished seven grades of school. I was a good student. I was keen on literature and was an avid reader. I went to the library every other day. They didn’t exchange books earlier than that. I was glued to books and ‘gulped them up.’ I read while walking, in a tram. They knew me and loved me in the library. My parents advised me to find a job after I had finished seven grades, as it was hard for them to keep me and my little sister. I talked about it in the library. The head of the library offered me a job there. First I was taught how to distribute books on shelves, hand out books, work with catalogues and soon I became a competent librarian. I finished evening school while I was working. The head of the library recommended me to enter a librarians’ school, located in the town of Soroki [Soroca in Moldovan], not far from Kishinev. I passed the entrance exams successfully and I was enrolled for the second year of the extramural department. I worked in my library, and still read books in bouts. I took exams twice a year. After obtaining a diploma, I was appointed the senior librarian.

I had many friends, but I was particularly close with Ella, my cousin. I remember how we were getting over Stalin’s death in the year of 1953. When his death was announced, thousands of Kishinev people rushed to his monument, depicting Stalin in a military coat with the stretched out hand, which was located by the Patria cinema on the central city square. There was a long line of people, who’d been waiting there for hours to bring flowers to the monument. We were also in the line, sobbing. There was mourning in our library. When at the 20th Communist Party Congress 11 Khrushchev 12 dispelled the myths behind Stalin’s personality cult, it was another blow, as our idol was crushed. We had worked for many hours in the library. We had to look through every book. If we came across the mention of Stalin’s name or his picture, we were supposed to mar those books by crossing out his name and tearing out his picture.

I kept in touch with my school friend Lusya Baum. She studied at the railway school, and invited me for a New Year’s party in 1957. There were a lot of boys in her company. There were few girls in that school. My mother made a new dress for me to celebrate the New Year. As always, she chose the fabric and the style. I asked her to make a detachable dress that was in fashion. But she didn’t listen. She sewed the way she found appropriate, being frugal and taking into account the eternal need of the Jews to remake and reuse things. And now she remade a dress by adding beautiful frilling at the bottom, making me the best-dressed girl there. It was ‘bring your own party,’ so everybody had to take a dish. My mother made potato patties, which everybody enjoyed. That was a Jewish company, and there I met a lad whom I liked. In spite of the fact that my boyfriend was in the army at the time, we started seeing each other. I had to listen to my mother’s stories about my mother’s and father’s love for each other, about how my mother waited for my dad for four years. They disapproved of my precipitancy, but my heart could not be forced.

My beloved, a Jewish guy called Aron Mirskiy, was born in Bucharest in 1932. His father Uscher was a locomotive mechanic and his mother Perl was a housewife. Aron was an only child. In 1940 his family moved to Kishinev like many other Jews. Uscher went to the front from here and perished during the Great Patriotic War. His single younger brother, who survived the war, married Perl when he got back. When I met Aron he was a student of the Lvov Polytechnic Institute. We got married after he graduated from university in 1957. Our marriage was registered on 24th December, and our modest wedding was held on the 31st. The celebration took place at home with rather modest food and with gramophone music. At that time Jewish traditions weren’t observed in our families, so nobody even mentioned the possibility of having a Jewish wedding. We moved to the house of Aron’s mother and his stepfather. Their house was built in the suburbs of Kishinev after the war.

In 1958 our son was born and we named him Alexander. I was a young mother and kept working, but my husband insisted that I should enter the institute. I went to Moscow to enter a Bibliographic Institute. I passed the entry exams and studied extramurally for three years. In 1963 I got very ill. I had a dreadful diagnosis – cancer. The doctor told me that I had only five years to live. I quit the institute, I couldn’t even think of studying. Then it turned out that they were mistaken with the diagnosis, I had no cancer. I don’t even want to recall that terrible year, thinking that I was lethally ill. My parents and husband helped me get over it. My colleagues, who treated me very well, were also very supportive at that time.

In 1970 we received a good apartment, where we are currently residing. We never came across anti-Semitism. I was promoted at work. After my husband graduated from university, he was offered a leading position in the Ministry of Automobile Transport. We were pretty well-off. We owned a car, though we didn’t have a country house. In the summer time we went to a wonderful facility of the Ministry of Automobile Transport for rest and recreation. Sometimes we went to the seaside. There was a pioneer 13 camp where Alexander spent the whole summer.

My son experienced explicit anti-Semitism, when he served in the Soviet Army in Odessa 14. My husband and I visited him rather often as Odessa was close by. Once I came to see my son in the summer. He was given a leave pass and went to the beach. My son didn’t want to undress, and I made him do that. Then I saw bruises all over his body. I took pains to make my son tell me the truth. It turned out that he stood up for a Jewish boy, who was circumcised during childhood. Other soldiers teased him. Then anti-Semites went after my son, beating him black and blue. No matter how Аlexander asked me not to leak a word of it, I went to the commander and told him everything. He promised to punish the offenders, but when I came back, nothing had changed. Then I wrote to the Ministry of Defense in Moscow. After that my son was transferred to another unit by Kherson, but the bullies weren’t even punished. My son entered the automobile vocational school and then started teaching driving in the training facility. There he met a wonderful Jewish girl. Her name was Tuba Nerdinskaya. They got married and they had two children in a row: Mikhail, born in 1985, and Irina, born in 1986.

In 1985 my father passed away without having a chance to rejoice in a great-grandchild. In 1994 my mother died. She had been afflicted with cancer for a while. When my mother got ill in 1990 I had to quit work to look after her. My husband and I didn’t observe religious traditions during the Soviet times. However, we went to my parents for Pesach. My mother always had matzah. My mother used to light candles on Fridays, and fasted during Yom Kippur. My parents always spoke Yiddish, so I know my mother tongue very well. I buried my parents at the Jewish cemetery according to the Jewish rite. An old Jew read a prayer.

I always wanted to be close to my kin. I knew that my true name was Molka. When in 1991 Moldova got its independence, and there was a passport exchange, I was given a certificate in an archive and changed my name from Maya to Molka. Now I am Molka again, both in my passport and in my other documents. I like my name Molka more than Maya, because it is connected to my people, my childhood and my parents.

I always took an interest in the fate of our people, Israel. During those years when Israel was spoken about as a hostile country, I got in touch with dissidents and read literature about Israel. I worshiped this country, and dreamt that one day we would live there. My husband was always against immigration. He loved Moldova and Kishinev, so I had to submit. However, my son’s family immigrated to Israel in the early 1990s. I often go there. My son works in the field hе is specialized in. His wife has also settled in.

Our grandson Mikhail serves in the Israeli fleet. When he was about to be drafted I told him to come to Ukraine to escape army service. Then my son had a talk with me and said that in Israel army service was honorable, and he was happy that Mikhail would serve Israel. He believed Israel needed them, and that was the reason for their immigration. My son is a real Israeli patriot. My granddaughter Irina entered the university this year. My sister Musya also lives in Israel. She didn’t go on with her higher education after finishing school. She got married, and then divorced. Her second marriage with a Moldovan Jew, Shunya Weinstein, turned out to be very happy. Musya and Shunya left Israel at the end of the 1970s. Musya has a daughter, Lilia, who works as a teacher.

Now we live in independent Moldova. Many people took the breakup of the Soviet Union very negatively. But I think there is something positive in it. After gaining independence, we have the conditions to develop our Jewish culture. We have Hesed 13, the association of the Jewish organizations, which unites all Jewish organizations. I also found my purpose there, working as a health visitor and a kindergartner. I liked my job. My deteriorating health made me leave it. Now I am a Hesed client. My husband still works. He is the head of the automobile department in a Polyclinic. We often attend Hesed’s events, celebrate holidays with our Jewish friends. Symbolic as it may be, after gaining independence and getting my original name back, I turned to the Jewish life and remembered my roots.

Glossary:

Tinka Kohen
Sofia
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Stephan Djambazov
Date of interview: September 2002

Now Tinka Kohen is 84 years old, but she is very energetic and vigorous. She lives very close to the Jewish cultural center, but she does not visit it, because she does not share the sentiment of the major part of the Jewish community in Bulgaria, who feel nostalgia for the socialist past. Tinka’s daughter Leah was one of the distinguished Bulgarian diplomats since 1989. She was ambassador to Brussels and Switzerland. She married in Switzerland and remained there to live. Tinka lives alone in a cozy, small apartment, but her son often visits her as well as Leah when she comes to Bulgaria. Tinka goes out with friends and loves walking to the Borisova park in Sofia, which is a good distance from her home. This keeps her in shape. She is slim and very agile. And now she took up the noble task to find money for the cleaning of the Jewish cemeteries in Sofia. She does not complain of any illnesses and does not remain indifferent to the events taking place around her.

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War

After 1989

Glossary         

My family background

My paternal grandparents come from Svishtov [a small Bulgarian town on the Danube] and later they moved to Pleven. My grandfather, Iakov Haimov Moyseev, was a corn dealer. He had grapevines and also produced wine. He fought in the Russian-Turkish war [1877-1878], which liberated the Bulgarian people and he took part in the defense of Pleven in 1877, and his name is even inscribed on a memorial plate in Pleven. I didn’t know Iakov very well. He lived in Pleven, and I lived in Sofia. I remember only two occasions when I visited his home. He lived in a nice house. Iakov wasn’t religious, but he probably observed the traditional religious holidays. He lived to 101 years of age, but unfortunately we didn’t get in touch very often. I have no memories of my grandmother.

Iakov’s eldest son was named Haim. His next child was a daughter, Bohora; my father, Mois, was the third child. The fourth one was Rica and the youngest was Mordo. From all the children, only Haim helped his father with the business. Almost all of them left town, only Haim, who had two children, remained in Pleven. We didn’t keep in touch with them.

Bohora had a son, Mayer Djine, and a daughter. The son joined the socialist movement very early and in 1925 after the bombing of the Sveta Nedelia Church in Sofia 1, Mayer Djine escaped to Turkey, afraid of repression. From there he went to France, where he married an Armenian. After Stalin’s address in the middle of the 1930s, in which he appealed to all Armenians to come back and help build socialism [the appeal was also addressed to all Soviet citizens living abroad], Mayer Djine and his wife went to Soviet Armenia.

I heard this story after 9th September 1944 2 when Mayer Djine came to Bulgaria. It impressed me quite a lot. He told us that he went to the USSR with his wife and another family, in which the husband was a dentist. But at the border, the dentist disappeared and he was never seen again. Probably, he was sent to a camp. Mayer Djine remained in Armenia during World War II, where he was drafted to the army. His wife died during the war of typhus, and when the war was over he came back to Bulgaria with his two children.

Even as early as 1945 we were shocked by the things he told us about the Soviet repressions, the dictatorship and Stalinism. At that time my husband, Pepo, and I, believed strongly in the new order. So we regarded Mayer Djine as a Trotskyite and we avoided contact with him. When Djine decided to move to Israel in 1949, he suggested that my husband should go to see him off at the railway station to hear some more facts. But the real reason was that he was afraid of someone stopping him from leaving. However, my husband didn’t go to the station, because he didn’t trust Djine. Later, when we went to Israel for the first time in the middle of the 1960s, we met with Djine and Pepo apologized to him for not meeting him.

My maternal grandfather Avramov died very young. I don’t remember him at all, I don’t even know his first name. I only remember others speaking about him as someone who had recently died. Even my elder sisters remember him only vaguely as an old man sitting quietly. My mother used to tell us that he read the Kabbala all the time; he seems to have been very religious. And from all this reading and mystery solving, he went insane and died – that’s how they explained his death. I suppose he died of some kind of mental illness or sclerosis. My grandmother, Amada Avramova, became a widow very young. She lived with her son Marko, who supported the family. Amada was a housewife and she never worked outside the home. Later I visited her more or less often. She was very friendly, she smoked cigarettes and we played cards. She wasn’t very religious: she observed the high holidays – Pesach, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, but she didn’t observe Sabbath.

Marko was the leader in the family. He was a very enterprising man and took us all to live in Sofia, including my mother. But, while he was still young he got tuberculosis and spent one year in Switzerland - at that time people with tuberculosis were sent there for treatment. Marko was well off financially and probably he himself paid for his treatment, which at that time wasn’t as expensive as it is now. When he returned, he started a textile factory. At first we all lived in the same house, later, after Marko’s death the families separated. I haven’t kept in touch with Marko’s other brothers and sisters. Gavriel left for Israel a long time ago [1935] and I seldom heard from him or from Rebecca, who left later.

My mother, Matilda Mois Iakova, nee Avramova, was born in 1880 in Samokov [a town south of Sofia]. I never spent any time in Samokov, because my mother came to Sofia when she was very young. She was very intelligent for her time – she studied in the French College 3 and knew French very well.

My paternal grandmother was from Solun [today Thessaloniki, Greece] and she didn’t know Bulgarian. My paternal grandparents were modern people, with no prejudices and they didn’t wear typical Jewish clothes. I spent some time in Pleven as a child, but I only remember that they lived in a beautiful house with beds, servants and everything was in the style of the times. Everybody apart from my grandmother spoke Bulgarian perfectly, which shows that they came to Bulgaria a long time ago. They exchanged a word in Ladino only when they didn’t want the children to understand what they were speaking about and so we never learned the language.

My father, Mois Iakov Moyseev, was born in Pleven in 1877. He graduated from high school there and around 1900 he came to Sofia, where he was a soldier and met my mother - I don’t know where and how they met. They had a religious wedding around 1900. My father worked as a clerk in the municipality in the beginning. When my uncle Marco Avramo built a factory in Troyan and then a textile factory in Sliven, he hired my father as an accountant. Before that Marco Avramov bought a house in Sofia and gathered the whole family there. Unfortunately, he died in 1932 and his wife sold the house. In 1940 she emigrated with her children to the USA and the factory was expropriated twice – the first time under the anti-Jewish laws, the second time during the communist rule in 1944 when it was nationalized.

We were never deprived of anything, although we never had our own house. We lived in a rented house after my uncle died and his wife sold the house. We had four rooms, but when the factory was expropriated in 1940, my father was fired and our troubles began. The general impression that all Jews were rich then is not true. I come from the middle class and I lived in the center, but there were also poor Jews, who lived in Iuchbunar 4.

My parents dressed fashionably. At that time hats and long dresses were very fashionable. We had servants, we went to resorts. My mother liked Bankya most [a town close to Sofia, famous for its mineral water]. We also went to Vurshets and Kostenets [also famous balneological centers]. My first holiday on the seaside was in Varna in 1934-35.

We had a lot of books – Bulgarian and French, because my sisters read a lot and they, especially my sister Milka, had writer friends, such as Nikolay Liliev, Nikolay Hrelkov, D.B. Mitov and others. But eventually Milka married a lower-class Jew in Sliven, whose name was Shmil. My mother also read and loved to sing. She went deaf very early and spent her days reading and looking after her daughters. I was brought up mostly by my sisters, who helped my mother a lot. My mother also looked after us, but our age difference was very big. I was the youngest and my sisters loved me so much that they were all very keen to look after me. They regarded me as their little doll.

Our maids were usually young girls from the villages near Sofia, who lived with us. They used to spend about a year or two with us. I don’t remember any particular maid very well. Their tasks were mainly to clean the house and do the washing. My mother was the one who did the shopping and the cooking, but they also helped her by carrying the products that were bought, washing them, bringing in coal and wood, cleaning and firing the stoves. Mother and the maid went shopping on Thursday to prepare meals on Friday for the weekend. We went to the Tsentralni Hali [the central covered market in Sofia], which was near the Central Synagogue. I don’t remember my mother buying live hens to take them to the synagogue to be killed in accordance with the religious law. But I have some vague memories of hens being killed there. We bought meat many times, even pork steaks – my father lied to my mother saying that they were veal. Monday we ate beans and did the washing.

My father fought in World War I and they told us that the soldiers wanted to go home to their families so much that they drank from the same water that the buffaloes drank from in order to catch dysentery and be sent home on leave. My father was Bohemian in nature – he loved life, and he loved gambling, so my mother was very happy when gambling was banned after 9th September 1944. He never lost much money, he did it because of the thrill the game gave him. We were not part of the Jewish community, although we kept in touch with some of our relatives. My mother had some socialist leanings, but my father didn’t. They mixed with intelligent people – Jews and Bulgarians. They visited each other, but not very often. Usually my father went around the cafés to gamble while my mother stayed at home. I remember more clearly the friends of my sisters, with whom they went to the theatre, the cinema and to restaurants.

My sisters and I were born in Sofia. I am the youngest and I have four sisters. Sophie was born in 1902, Milka in 1904, Liza two years later and Stela in 1908. My uncle Marco, who was a very enterprising man, took care of all of us. He sent one of my sisters, Lisa, to Paris to study French at the Sorbonne. He sent my other sister Stela, who graduated from a sewing school, to study design in France for one year. She was ‘progressive’ [i.e. of left-wing convictions] and instead of studying, she took part in protests – the trial against Georgi Dimitrov 5 was taking place in Berlin then [in the 1930s] and there were protests of left-wing parties throughout Europe. Before that [in the 1920s], my uncle sent my third sister, Milka, to Germany for one year to study dentistry. But then came the time of Rosa Luxemburg 6, the country fell into a deep economic crisis and Milka couldn’t finish her studies. My sisters Sophie and Milka were accountants, Lisa became a teacher and Stela a designer and artist.  

Growing up

I was born in 1918. From my childhood I remember most clearly the bombing of the Sveta Nedelia Church in Sofia. I was seven years old then, the whole city was blocked off and nobody was allowed be on the streets. Only the children were allowed to go and buy bread, nothing else. I was also sent for bread and I saw carriages with wounded people speeding along the streets. I also saw a young man going out of his house when a mounted policeman came down on him and started beating him with a club for violating the ban. Dead silence reigned throughout the whole city. I was so afraid that I stumbled and fell and I remember having both my knees bandaged like the wounded. This is all I remember.

I studied in a state high school. My favorite subjects were French, Latin and physics. My favorite teachers were Mrs. Taseva, who taught physics and Mrs. Arabadjieva, who taught literature. I also liked the teacher in Latin. I took private lessons in French and I learned enough to be able to communicate with my son-in-law, the husband of Leah, who is Swiss. Of the official holidays I remember 1st May – May Day, which for me was the Day of the Flowers. I most loved 24th May7, the day of St. Cyril and Methodius 8, the creators of the Slavic alphabet.

During my childhood all of my friends were Bulgarians, I didn’t have any Jewish friends. We lived very happily. When I was six years old, I became friends with a Bulgarian girl and we were inseparable until just two years ago when she died. We went to parties with my friends, in the summer I went to the seaside in Varna, sometimes with my sister, sometimes in organized school camps. My classmates and I went on excursions to the Vitosha Mountain. I seldom went out with my parents, because I was the youngest child and we didn’t have much in common. Ever since I was 12 years old, at the end of each school year, they used to put me on the train and send me to spend the summer with my sister Sophie in Sliven. I loved her as if she were my mother and so did she. We went to Karandila [a region in the Balkan Mountains of Sliven] or to Varna. If I didn’t go to Sliven, I went with my mother to Bankya. But when I grew older, I preferred to spend the whole summer with my sister in Sliven.

As a child, I never experienced any anti-Semitic attitudes directed towards me. But I remember an incident that made a great impression on me. As a student during religion class, since I was the only Jew there I had nothing to do, as class wasn’t mandatory for me. So instead of wandering around, I asked if I could stay in class and listen. The teacher, Mrs. Kovacheva, refused squarely, “You cannot stay. You are a Jew and you cannot stay.” I was so shocked, I went home and told my father about that. He was a militant man and we went straight to the headmaster’s office. The headmaster said that I could visit those classes if I wanted to and that the teacher was in the wrong. After many years we became neighbors of that teacher, but I’ve never reminded her of that although it hurt me a lot.

My parents didn’t know Hebrew and they weren’t religious. We celebrated Pesach, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, but we didn’t observe Sabbath. My sisters joined the socialist movement from an early age and we were atheists. The holidays bored us. Our father took the book [the Haggadah on seder]; it was written in Bulgarian, or maybe in Ladino, I don’t remember. He read out of it for a while, as my mother prepared the dinner. Since I was the youngest child, they gave me a bag with small loaves of bread to carry, like those made during the escape from Egypt, but different from the matzah. They were very hard and we could hardly eat them. During the evening my sisters read books and nobody paid attention to what our father was reading. My sisters and I didn’t go to the synagogue, later I started going there, but only to meet with boys in the courtyard. We didn’t eat kosher food. My mother didn’t go the synagogue either, probably because she was deaf.

I graduated from high school in 1937, when, unluckily, Simeon [Saxe-Coburg-Gotha] 9 was born and then I don’t know why, all graduation balls were banned and they raised all students’ marks. That was the generous gesture of King Boris III 10 so that no student would have to repeat a grade the year that his son was born. To fill up the university with even more incompetent students! And since we didn’t have a graduation ball, the following year we gathered in the BIAD Restaurant in Sofia. I had a Bulgarian boyfriend, with whom I was platonically, but beautifully in love. But he graduated in law and went to Plovdiv, and so I was free. I don’t know if I was very pretty that evening in BIAD, but I was constantly invited to dance. We danced the waltz and tango. I received notes, flowers, and when I went back home – a serenade. My future husband was at that dinner with a cousin of mine. Josif Menahem Kohen – his nickname was Pepo –  was born in Skopje [today Macedonia] on 11th June  1911. While they were talking with each other, Pepo asked my cousin to introduce him to me. I married him in 1939, but not because he was Jewish. If my former friend, the Bulgarian, hadn’t been so prejudiced, maybe I would have married him.

During the War

Then in 1939 Branniks 11 and Ratniks 12 appeared, but what bothered me the most was that a cousin of mine kept his Jewish origin secret. He was an international crook, and remained such until the end of his life. At that time he mixed only with Bulgarians, he concealed the fact that he was a Jew and claimed that he was an engineer, although he had graduated from an ordinary technical school. One night he took me to Bulgaria Restaurant which was frequented only by officers. And when he was about to go inside, one of his friends, an officer, said, ‘Forget it; it is full of chifuti here [derogatory nickname for Jews in Bulgarian].’ I was shocked and I asked my cousin, ‘Don’t they know that you are a Jew?’ and he mumbled something in response. So, I went away.

I started studying law at Sofia University. My husband and I lived in a rented onebedroom apartment. But then from 1939-1941 anti-Jewish laws and the Law for the Protection of the Nation 13 were passed in Bulgaria, which led to many Jews being laid off of work and the men were sent to labor camps. I studied only two years, because I had to start work in 1941 as a spinner in a factory. My husband was sent to a labor camp, and my father was laid off. I got pregnant, but it was a stillbirth after the first bombing by the English of Sofia in 1941. There was a song at that time: ‘We will fly against England’ portraying the war as something abstract and far away. But the bombings were real enough and during one of them, after we went down to the basement, my mother went up to go to the toilet and forgot to switch the lamp off. The following day my father was arrested for ostensibly making signs to the English for where to bomb. He was later released, but because of the anxiety and the bombings, I had a stillbirth.

I gave birth to Leah in June 1942. Pepo was in a labor camp again [see forced labor camps in Bulgaria] 14. I don’t remember how much time he spent at home – it was only a few months. In May 1943 we were interned to Vratsa and in April 1944 we moved to Sliven to live with my sister. My name was changed to Ruth, but it didn’t figure in any documents later on. [In order to distinguish the Jews from the Bulgarians, the names of the Jews were changed only to Biblical ones – so that there would be no doubt that they were Jews. But this change of names was done a bit clumsily. So, it happened that in some documents the Jews received their new names and in others they still kept their old ones. And not all names were changed, only those that were also used by Bulgarians and were ambiguous.]

As for the Bulgarian people, only a few of them were fascists, mainly among the politicians and leaders. There was no anti-Semitism among the common people. It was artificially instilled. When we were interned to Vratsa [see Internment of Jews in Bulgaria] 15 and we arrived at the railway station, one of the railway officials told us, ‘We hear that you are going to be deported. When you arrive during the night, go to this address of a colleague and a friend of mine. He will put you up for the night. The next day he will check what the situation is. If you are going to be deported, he will put you in touch with the partisan squad so that you can escape. If he sees that you are being accommodated in the town, then there won’t be any deportation and you can go and settle in your house.’ And he told us the truth. When we arrived at half past two in the morning, we went to the address he had given us and the people welcomed us very warmly. In the morning the man checked and saw that there were no signs of deportation, and we went to receive accommodation. But I really regret not looking for those people afterwards to thank them. We didn’t receive any call-up orders for deportations, as other Jews from southern Bulgaria did. The reason was that they were afraid to deport Sofia citizens.

The people at whose place we lived were very hospitable. They helped us as much as they could with food and with their kind attitude. We had some saved money, but we didn’t have to spend much of it, because we didn’t have to pay any rent. That’s why I regret now that due to being absorbed in our everyday worries, we didn’t look for those people later on to thank them for their hospitality.

After the War

Later we moved to Sliven and we celebrated 9th September 1944 there. We remained in Sliven and my husband took part in the social activities in the town. He established a Jewish Fatherland Front 16. We signed up in the Bulgarian Communist Party. He was also offered the position of an examining magistrate, but he declined. The People’s Court was established and he was appointed chairman for the Sliven and Kotel region. Many fascists were sentenced at that time. After 1946 we went back to Sofia and my husband started working as a lawyer. I started to work as a librarian in the Slavyanska Beseda community center. I earned my living by distributing books in the library of the community center. Later I went to work in the State Insurance Institute and gave up studying.

We didn’t leave Bulgaria, because we put much hope in the USSR – we thought that this was the ideal legal system. But then we became disappointed, by the time the Doctor’s Plot 17 in Moscow took place; we knew that it was all a lie. News started coming in about repressions in the USSR. Mayer Djine returned to Bulgaria. At first, we didn’t believe him, but later we found out that he had told the truth. But once you become a party member, there is no turning back. We had to wait for 10th November  1989 18 in order to leave the party. Before that, we started to mix only with Jewish families, since we didn’t trust others much.

Our second child, Valeri, was born in 1947. We lived in a rented apartment, we were not well off, but we managed to educate our children. Leah graduated from the Academy of Music and became a music critic, and Valeri earned a university degree in engineering. We were never very religious so there was no conflict between our membership in the Bulgarian Communist Party and the Jewish traditions. And we didn’t observe all Jewish holidays – we only observed Pesach, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, but not Sabbath. And we did that not out of piety, but in order to keep the tradition alive. There isn’t such a big gap between the Jewish traditions and socialist ideas, because both of them value justice most of all. Reality, however, turned out to be quite different from our ideals. So the year 1989 had to come for us to get rid of our delusions.

All of our relatives left for Israel when the Jewish state was established in 1948. We met with them when we went to visit. Before democracy came in 1989, we went to Israel three times and after that three more times. When we were leaving for the first time, we went to get our passports at the police station. There they delicately hinted to us that if we saw or heard anything special, we should call them when we got back. But we told them that we were going on a friendly visit to see our relatives and friends and weren’t interested in anything else, so we wouldn’t be of use to them.

The wars in Israel in 1967 [see Six-Day-War] 19 and 1973 [see Yom Kippur War] 20 brought us to marry our son Valeri to a Jewish girl. At that time our daughter Leah was married to a Bulgarian from a family who didn’t have any feelings for the problems of the Jews. At this point I told my son that only a Jew who experienced and understood the problems of Israel, could understand the Jewish tragedy. And so if he would marry a Jew, I told him, she would have a different view on the events there. The breaking of diplomatic ties between Bulgaria and Israel also hurt me a lot – here the Jews were called aggressors and so we mixed only with Jewish friends so that we could talk and share our opinions more freely.

We kept a regular correspondence with our relatives. But I remember the following incident. My sister-in-law often went to the Israeli embassy before diplomatic ties were broken. And each holiday she received invitations for parties. One day there was a policeman waiting for her in front of her home and he took her to the station and asked her, ‘You often go to the Israeli embassy, why do you go there, what do you talk about inside?’ My father was also interrogated about his visits to the embassy. And they were made to sign a declaration stating that no political issues were discussed in the embassy.

Let me tell you a funny story: when I was in Israel around 1980, a friend of mine there called me and said, ‘Tinka, a friend of mine will come to see you in Bulgaria. Please, do her the favor that she will ask of you.’ But she told me nothing else on the phone. In a couple of days, a woman called, speaking in Russian and said, ‘I’m the friend of your friend Shelly and I want to see you.’ She came and told me that she had moved from Moscow to Israel seven years earlier. But she had relatives to whom she wrote letters and her sister went on an excursion to Bulgaria so that they could meet. She wanted me to help her find out in which hotel she was. When I checked all the big hotels, I remembered the Slavia Hotel. Indeed, it turned out that there was such a group of tourists there and I went to speak to the group leader. I made up the story that my daughter was a fellow student of that woman, that she heard that she was here and wanted to meet her. But he told me that there was no such person in his group.

We both went to the hotel and asked a Russian woman in the foyer. It turned out that not only was the woman I had been looking for there, but she was also in the same room as the woman we asked. So, both sisters started meeting in secret. The woman went out of the hotel, as if to go shopping and went to see her sister, who had rented a room in another hotel. After this she traveled throughout Bulgaria to all the same places the group went to, such as to Pleven and Varna, to be with her. She couldn’t even give her a little gift, because she was afraid that the Russian customs officials might confiscate it. So, such things happened then. Two sisters weren’t allowed to keep in touch properly!

After 1989

After 1989 democracy did a lot of good for me. You could breathe now, speak, tell jokes – but nowadays I don’t hear jokes any more. 10th November 1989 brought greater freedom, but I was in a way ostracized by the Jewish community in Sofia. They called me a traitor, because my daughter, Leah, signed up with the opposition party called Union of Democratic Forces. Once I met an acquaintance who was with another Jew and he asked me why I didn’t visit the Bet Am 21, just next door. I answered, ‘Why should I come, you’ve turned it into a branch of Pozitano? [The headquarters of the Bulgarian Socialist Party is located on Pozitano street] Why do you invite Aleksander Lilov [one of the ideologists of the Bulgarian Communist Party during the time of Todor Zhivkov] on your holidays and anniversaries?’ And the other man grabbed me and shouted, ‘You, fascist, do you know that my brother was killed by the fascists before 9th September?’ ‘But that was 60 years ago, even Israel and Germany have shaken hands since then’, I told him. ‘And your brother was revenged immediately after 9th September – the People’s Court and so on, so stop talking about this!’ And now when he sees me in the Jewish Center he tells me, ‘Every time I see you, my mood is spoiled!’ And I seldom go there. I find it boring. I prefer to take a walk in Borisova Gradina [the central park in Sofia] than listen to their silly conversations.

Now I have taken up the task to clean the Jewish cemeteries. Those from the Shalom organization 22 receive big sums from the Joint 23, and spend it on so many things, but they don’t spare any for the cemeteries. Because the Joint told them that they give money for the living, not for the dead. So, together with two other women I decided to gather the necessary sum to clean the cemeteries. Because they are all overgrown with weeds, the monuments cannot be seen well, and the cemetery is full of ticks and perhaps even snakes.

Glossary

Bertha Isayeva
Odessa
Ukraine
Interviewer: Alla Zhavoronkina
Date of interview: November 2003

Bertha Isayeva is a young looking lady of average height. She has preserved her slim figure.  One can tell that she takes good care of herself and doesn’t give in.  Bertha Isayeva is a lady with a big sense of dignity. She has a vivid mind and likes to discuss various subjects. She has her own point of view on any issue.  She lives with her son Edik in a comfortable three-bedroom apartment in a new district of Odessa. Her son made a lot of things in their apartment. He also had their furniture manufactured by his designs to create comfort for his mother. Painting is one of her son’s talents and hobbies. There are his works on the walls in their apartment.

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War

Glossary 

My family background

My mother’s father Zalman Blehman was born in Sloboda village, Lepel district, Vitebsk province. He is registered as a farmer in my mother’s birth certificate. I don’t know when my grandfather moved to Odessa, but his children were born in Odessa after 1895. My grandfather was very ill. He was bedridden 14 last years of his life. I was bout four years old when we came to see grandmother Dora and grandfather Zalman in 1926. My grandfather was in his bed. I remember that he had a big beard. I was afraid of my grandfather and was peeping through a chink. One had to cross my grandfather’s room to get into other rooms, but I never went there and cannot say how many rooms they had. There were many children in my mother’s family. It was a custom with Jewish families to have many children.  They weren’t a wealthy family. They lived in Lidersovskiy Boulevard, present Belinskogo Street.  My grandfather kept few cows in an annex facility. I think they fed cows with hay. My grandparents sold milk to buy everything the family needed.  I heard that my grandfather Zalman had a brother, who also kept cows. He lived in the very center of the town in Malaya Arnautskaya Street between Pushkinskaya and Richelieu  Streets. This is all I know about him I think that before my grandfather fell ill he looked after cows himself and my grandmother was helping him. They spoke Yiddish to one another. My grandfather died in 1927. He was buried in the Second Jewish cemetery in Vodoprovodnaya Street. This cemetery was removed in the 1960s. I don’t know whether my grandfather Zalman was buried in accordance with Jewish traditions. 
My mother mother’s name was Dvoira, but we called her Dora.  After my grandfather died my grandmother continued her cow keeping business. She didn’t have any help and did all work by herself. My grandmother died in 1931. She was only 54 years old, still young, and I think, she worked herself out and down. I only have dim memories about my grandmother. My grandmother was buried near my grandfather in Vodoprovodnaya Street. I believe they wee religious since my mother went to the synagogue later.  My grandmother and grandfather had eight children. 

One of my mother’s brothers Bencion perished in 1921.  There was famine 1 in the town then. People went to villages to exchange clothes for grain. Bencion and his friend went to a village and some bandits beat them to death throwing stones on them. Monia, the second brother, suffered from a heart disease. He died in the late 1920s. I remember a young man living in the house when we visited my grandmother. This was Monia.

I cannot remember my mother third brother’s name, but I just have to tell his story.  He, his wife Dusia and their children Pavlik and Grisha live in Kiev before the Great Patriotic War 2. When the war began they left Kiev by foot. German troops were advancing fast. My mother brother’s family stayed in a kolkhoz near Mozdok in the Northern Caucasus. Chairman of the kolkhoz wrote in my brother’s documents that he was Russian (he was fair-haired) and his beautiful wife Dusia Armenian.  When German troops came and lined up all Jews, chairman of the kolkhoz dragged them out of the line and explained ‘They are not Jews. She is Armenian and he is Russian!’ The German officer believed him. Their rescuer was surely a Righteous man of the world 3. However, I think that when Soviet troops came back they shot this man because he was chairman of the kolkhoz during German occupation. My mother’s brother worked as a stableman in the kolkhoz and Dusia was afraid of leaving their house. She stayed inside for nine months. She was in a state of shock after all of her relatives were shot. After they were liberated they had some problems with NKVD 4: ‘How did you, Jews, manage to survive, when the rest of Jews were shot? It means you cooperated with fascists’. After the war they lived in Central Asia. This is all I know about this brother and his family.

My mother’s older sister Tsylia was born in Odessa in  1895. My grandmother managed to give her a dowry, but other sisters got no dowry whatsoever.  Aunt Tsylia was a housewife before the Great Patriotic War. Before the war all women in our family were housewives tat was ordinary for the wives having decent husbands.  Their husbands provided for them. Tsylia’s husband Boris Gurovich  was a logistics supervisor in various organizations. Their family was always wealthy. They had two daughters: Olga and Rita. Rita finished 10 grades before the war. Olga, an older daughter, was a doctor. She went to the army and served in a front line hospital during the war. During the war aunt Tsylia, Boris and Rita were in evacuation in Tokmak [Kirghizia].  After the war aunt Tsylia and her family returned to Odessa. Olga worked as a rontgenologist after the war. She married her former co-student who worked as a throat doctor.  Her daughter Lina died in a car accident in 1980. Her daughter Yulia became an orphan at the age of one month. Olga grieved hard after her daughter. She became very ill.  Her husband looked after their granddaughter. Olga died in 1998. Her husband died in the end of 2000. Yulia studies in Medical Academy. Rita got married after the war and adopted her husband’s surname of Gorenshtein. She worked as a secretary. She has two sons. Her older son Mark was a talented boy. In the 1950s he studied playing the piano in the school named after Stolyarskiy [Stolyarskiy, Pyotr: violin teacher in Odessa and one of the founders of the Soviet Violin School]. he had an incident in the ninth grade. I don’t know whether it was anti-Semitism toward him. He had excellent marks in all special subjects, but he failed at his exam in the Ukrainian language and was to have another try in autumn. During his summer vacations Mark went on tour across the USSR with an orchestra of the town palace of students after obtaining permission of director of his school. He was late for his exam in autumn due to this tour and when he came to school he found out that he was expelled. Rita could not allow to let it happen. She went to Kiev and Moscow. A commission of higher authorities came to his school, but Mark was resumed. There were rumors that some ‘big shot’ wanted a place for his offspring in this school. Mark entered a music school in Kishinev. Later he finished Moscow Conservatory. He won competition for a job in the orchestra of Svetlanov [Svetlanov, Yevgeniy Fyodorovich (1928 – 2003), Soviet conductor and composer. In 1965 he became art director and chief conductor of the State Symphonic Orchestra of the USSR]. Mark was a concertmaster of the orchestra. Then he finished the Faculty of Conducting in the conservatory. Mark Gorenshtein is chief conductor of this orchestra now. Rita’s younger son Alexandr is an artist. He studied in Leningrad and now he lives in Moscow. Rita lives in Moscow raising her grandchildren. Aunt Tsylia died approximately in 1983. Boris died some time later, but I don’t remember the date. 

My mother’s sister Rosa married Solomon Vainshtein.  They didn’t have any children. Solomon was a woodworker and a nice specialist. During the Great Patriotic War  Rosa was in evacuation with us and Solomon was recruited to the army. Since he was over 50 years of age they demobilized him some time later. He joined his wife in Tokmak. After the war they returned to Odessa. Uncle Solomon died in the late 1970s. Rosa died in 1988.

My mother next sister’s name was Basia, but everybody called her Buzia. Buzia and her family lived in Odessa. Her husband Moisey Fafel was an accountant. Their only son Ilia was born in 1930. During the Great Patriotic War they evacuated to Tumen in Siberia.  They went to work there. Even Ilia worked at a military plant, though he was only 11-12 years old. He is a veteran of the war and has an appropriate certificate. They returned to Odessa after the war. Ilia finished Odessa Polytechnic College. He became an engineer. Aunt Buzia died shortly after my mother in 1973. Ilia is my only remaining relative in Odessa.   

My mother’s next sister Clara married Ghideon Vitorgan, my father sister Manya’s son. So it happened that Ghideon was my uncle and cousin brother at the same time.  He finished Odessa Flour Grinding College and was chief engineer of a flour grinding trust in Astrakhan. Aunt Clara was a housewife. They stayed in Astrakhan during the war. After the war Clara worked as a seamstress in a garment shop for some time. Their older son Vladimir is an engineer. Their younger son Emmanuil Vitorgan is a renowned actor. He works in a theater in Moscow.  Ghideon and Clara died in Astrakhan in the 1990s.

There is an interesting story about my mother younger sister Fania’s birth.  Nobody remembered her exact date of birth. They only remembered that it happened on Christian Easter.  Since it is celebrated on different dates each year we had to follow this holiday each year to greet her. I believe she was Feiga by her passport, but we called her Fania. Her husband Izia Balan was a shoe fitter.  Izia earned well and aunt Fania never had to work.  Aunt Fania was always concerned about her diseases. On 9 June 1941 her son Lyonia was born. He was under one month old when the war began. They evacuated to Mariupol by boat. We met there. Lyonia was all sun burnt. They were in evacuation in Tumen.  After the war they returned to Odessa. Lyonia finished Odessa Navy School and  sailed as radio operator. Then he got married and went to work at a plant.  Now Lyonia and his family live in Germany. [Bertha refused to tell us names of the towns where her relatives live abroad. For some reason she thinks that it is not safe to disclose this information]. Fania’s daughter Henrietta finished the Piano faculty in Odessa Conservatory.  She didn’t go to work being very ill. She died in 1993. Fania died in 1992.
My mother Anna Erlihman, nee Blehman, was born in Odessa on 9 January 1898. I don’t know how she was growing up or whether she got any education. I don’t know anything about her childhood or youth.  I don’t know how or where she met my father. My mother didn’t have any dowry: she came from a poor family.
I didn’t know my paternal grandfather Yoina  Erlihman. He died in 1902. In my father’s birth certificate my grandfather was called a townsman from Bendery. I read in my father’s autobiography that my grandfather was a loader. However, I doubt it since two older sons of my grandfather Yoina studied in Germany. Therefore, my grandfather was a wealthy man.   From what my father said my grandmother Doba owned a grocery store before the October revolution 5. I remember my grandmother a little. She rarely visited us. She was a gray-haired and an imposing lady with her hair popped up.  She wore a thin glaze cotton dress. It was an electric blue dress with slight white stripes. Wearing this dress and a hat, with her hair gray, she looked as proud as a queen. She never played with us, kids. She lived in an old house in Odessa in 114, Bazarnaya Street. There was a terrible staircase to her apartment on the second floor. I remember a common kitchen, therefore, it must have been a communal apartment 6. I don’t remember her furnishings: just a table, a chair, a bed and a cupboard. I only remember that it was a light room.  I don’t remember what my grandmother cooked: I really didn’t see her often. She died in 1938, when I was 16, a big girl. She was buried in the Jewish cemetery, but I don’t think there was a religious funeral. I think my grandmother and grandfather spoke Yiddish since my father knew Yiddish.  My grandparents had eight children.
My father’s older sister Tsypa moved to America before the revolution. I don’t know the exact date. The family kept it a secret and nobody was supposed to know about it. It goes without saying that we had no contacts with her. My grandparents managed to sent their older sons Naum and Solomon to study in Germany, before grandfather died. They received medical education there and returned to Russia with diplomas of doctors.  
Naum worked as a surgeon in Kronshtadt for a long time. Before the great patriotic war he moved to Odessa and worked as chief doctor of the town polyclinic. During the Great Patriotic War he was mobilized to the army. He was a military doctor of the 1st range, a surgeon. Naum perished during an air raid when he was in his surgery in Sevastopol.  A bomb  hit the surgery. They recognized him by his wristwatch. Uncle Naum had a son named Boris and two daughters: Lusia and Tatiana.  Boris was chief engineer at a big plant in Volzhskoye. Lusia finished a college before the war. She worked as a chemical engineer. Tatiana was a medical nurse. She lived in Odessa and died in 2001 .
Uncle Solomon was a therapist. Before the war he worked in Odessa town hospital. During the war he was in the hospital with Naum and also perished in Sevastopol. Uncle Solomon wife’s name was Betia. Solomon and Betia had two children. Their younger daughter Lena died in evacuation. I don’t know exactly where it happened. After the war Betia and her older daughter Klava returned to Odessa. After the war Klava finished Odessa Medical College and worked as a doctor in a recreation center. We still don’t know where Solomon and Naum were buried.  I went to Sevastopol with my children, but we couldn’t find any traces. Aunt Betia died in the 1970s. Klava lives with her son in America.  

My father’s third brother Rafail was born in 1894. He was called Fulia at home. Before the great Patriotic war he worked as chief engineer at the Marti shipyard. He was married and had three children: Volodia, Nelia and Lena. Uncle Rafail wife’s name was Fradia. They lived in an apartment on the 2nd floor in a new house in Preobrazhenskaya Street. During the great Patriotic war Rafail was summoned to the front. Fradia and her daughters were in evacuation in the Ural. Her younger daughter Lena died in the evacuation. After the war Rafail didn’t return to Odessa. He remarried. After the war he worked at a plant and lived in Sterlitamak. Some time later he moved to Voronezh where he died tragically. A motorcyclist hit him to death in the middle  1970s. His son Volodia was a Navy officer in Kronshtadt before the war. He was at the front.  In the late 1940s he perished in Sevastopol under unidentified circumstances. He was probably washed off his deck during a storm. Aunt Fradia died approximately in 1950. Rafail’s daughter Nelia graduated from the Odessa University and worked in a library. In 2002 she, her husband and their son moved to Germany.   

The fourth one was uncle Nulia – Nathan. I believe he lived in the same house with my grandmother.  Uncle Nulia worked at the plant named after Stalin where my father worked.  He was logistics manager. His wife was a housewife. Her name was Lisa. They had children: Rita, Yulia and David. They evacuated to Saratov with the plant. After the war they stayed to live in Saratov. This is all information I have about them.

My mother’s next sister Manya was our neighbor in Odessa. Aunt Manya was married to Abram Vitorgan. Abram Vitorgan worked as a turner at the dairy in Troitskaya Street. They had six children. Their older daughter Sopha was married to Yevsey Kanevskiy, a Jewish man, colonel.  He was a very nice and kind man. I remember that he always brought me books from his trips. They were colorful and nice.  Yevsey had a good education. I think he knew 7 languages. He even served as an interpreter at the meeting between Voroshilov 7 and a Turkish military leader. They were in Minsk when the Great Patriotic war began. Yevsey perished in Belostok on the first days of the war. Sopha and her three children where evacuated from Minsk that was already on fire. She escaped as she was. They reached Buzuluk town  near Orenburg. Then Sopha and her children moved to  Frunze [Kirghizia]. She worked as a typist in an organization. Sopha was a nice person.  She lived in a small room with her children Lilia, Tolia and Victor, but she managed to accommodate me and my co-student when we came to study there. After the war Sopha and her children returned to Odessa. Since she was an officer’s widow she received an apartment in Zhukovskogo Street. Her older daughter Lilia graduated from Odessa University.  Tolia finished Odessa Refrigeration College and moved to America in the 1970s. He has his own business there.  Vitia, the youngest son, and his sister Lilia are in Israel now.  
Manya’s next daughter Tatiana lives in Vladimir, one of the sons, died in infancy.   Then there were twin-boys Ghideon and Boris. Ghideon married Clara, my mother’s sister. Boris finished Flour Grinding College in 1938 and received an engineer diploma. He moved to Leningrad.   He worked as a turner at a plant. During the war he was recruited to the army and took part in the defense of Leningrad. After the war he worked as a turner in a scientific research institute. He was very handy and could fix the most complicated devices. Boris was married. He died in 2002. Aunt Manya died in the 1960s. Abram died in the 1980s at the age of 98. Manya’s younger daughter Beba was my age. She finished one year in a construction college before the war.  Then there was a war and front line. After the war Beba entered a flour grinding college where she met her husband-to-be Misha. After finishing the college they both received job assignments to work as engineers in Moldavia. After working in Moldavia for some time they moved to Stanislav town, present Ivano-Frankovsk. This was a nice town and they stayed there for a long time.  Beba and Misha worked in a design institute. In 1980s Beba, her husband and son moved to San Francisco to Beba’s sister Tatiana. 

My father had another sister. Her name was Brana and she died young.  I was named after her. I don’t know anything about her.

My father David  Erlihman was the fifth child in the family. He was born in Odessa on 18 June 1891. He was named Duvid at birth. I think he had a primary education. Since he didn’t have a secondary education he couldn’t enter a higher educational institution.  My father was a worker. At the age of 14 he was already an apprentice at the plant.  Later he became a turner (in due time he was awarded the highest grade). He served in the czarist army from 1913 till 1917. He was released due to an illness or injury. I don’t remember. After October revolution he worked at a plant. He finished a rabfak 8. He was promoted to foreman, and then shop superintendent at the mechanic assembly shop at the plant named after Stalin in Odessa. In 1937 my father joined the party.

I don’t know how my parents met.  Somehow, it never interested me! I even don’t know whether they had a wedding party: we never talked about it.

Growing up
 

I was born at home in 1922. My mother made an arrangement with a midwife, and by the way, she was a sister of Marshak [Samuel Marshak, a Soviet poet and translator], she was a good midwife. She lived in Moldavanka  [poor Jewish neighborhood on the outskirts of Odessa]. We lived in Richelieu Street. When my mother started labor my father went to call the midwife. It was February and it was freezing and windy. They said in our family that my father carried the midwife all the way to our home.

My brother Zachariy was born in a maternity hospital on 22 July 1930.  I remember this day well. My father sister Manya’s family live on the second floor of our house. I was staying with them when my mother was in the maternity hospital. There was a steel ladder to the second floor. I remember my father screaming ‘It’s a son! A son!’ when he opened the front door.  He had a daughter and now there was a son – it was such joy! My mother was a housewife.  I was eight years older than my brother. I helped my mother about the house. I also went to school, and I went to a gym and for walks. I remember once staying with my brother. We had a withe chaise longue. I put it in the sun on the balcony. My brother was lying in the chaise longue wrapped in cloth and I was embroidering. Suddenly somebody called me. I put down my embroidery and ran out when he began crying. I grabbed him and began to dandle him. Then I laid him on a needle unintentionally. How he was screaming, poor thing! Thank God, everything ended well.  This was a kind of nanny I made.

We lived in a miserable apartment in the basement, three stairs down: it was a former furniture store storeroom.  There were two rooms. There was a pump in the yard and there was also a toilet. There was no kitchen. We had two entrance doors there was space between them. There was a stool and a grets stove on it in this spot between the doors. Grets stove was a kerosene stove, only it made less noise.  It produced a lot of smoke, though, so it needed to be watched.  My mother always had a headache because of it. There was also a heating stove in one room. We used it for heating and cooking in winter. We stoked it with coal and wood. Since it was dark at all times we had electricity on in the morning during a day and in the evening.  My brother and I had iron beds, and my parents slept on a nice sofa. There was also a table with carved legs, few chairs around it and a very beautiful cupboard. 

I went to school at 8. Some parents sent their children to a Jewish school and some wanted to be no different from others and wanted their children to go to a Russian school. My cousin sister Beba and I went to a Russian school. There was an introduction interview at school where they asked various questions including what language our parents spoke at home. My parents told me to say that they only spoke Russian at home. I was admitted to this Russian school. This school #117 is still there in Zhukovskogo-Richelieu Streets.  Beba got confused and said her parents spoke Jewish at home. She was sent to a Jewish school. My parents didn’t speak Yiddish. Only rarely they spoke a word in Yiddish if they wanted to keep me unaware of their subject of discussion. I didn’t know Yiddish. I cannot say that we observed Jewish traditions at home. My parents went to the synagogue on holidays, but they could not pray. They prepared to such holidays. My mother did washing, ironing and cleaning. When I came home it smelled of clean bed sheets. I liked it. We, children, always knew there was a holiday. We didn’t follow kashrut and only after the war I got to know there was kosher food.  However, we identified ourselves as Jews.

I loved Pesach since this meant spring. My mother cooked something delicious. She made pastries and gefilte fish. My mother didn’t make matzah. I don’t remember having any matzah before the war.  My mother made pancakes to replace matzah. My parents dressed up before going to the synagogue in Pushkinskaya Street. It was small and it didn’t accommodate all willing to come inside. Once my parents took me with them. There were many joyful and nicely dressed people. There were so many of them that they even blocked the traffic. After the war the synagogue moved from Pushkinskaya to Peresyp.  We didn’t celebrate Sabbath. (Sabbath was a working day before the war.  I don’t remember whether my mother took her chickens to a shochet, but I remember that there was a shochet.  Almost all of our neighbors were Jews and there were few Russian families. We lived like one family. We knew all relatives and got along with our neighbors. There was no anti-Semitism before the war. 

1932-33 was a hard period of famine. There were Torgsin 9 stores where people could exchange gold or other valuables for food. People were willing to give away their valuables for bread. My classmates’ parents sold everything of value they had to get food. The only valuable we had was my mother’s wedding ring that she exchanged for food products. She brought home bread and some flat cookies. I remember my mother giving me and my brother Zachariy oval sugarplum candy with one pink and another yellow sides. My mother divide one candy in halves: one for me and another for my brother. I was 10 and my brother was 2 years old. We threw lots for which color we would get: it was important for us at that time. Everything was sold on coupons then. My father worked, but he didn’t earn enough. My mother always borrowed 150-200 rubles from my aunts, her sisters. She paid her debts on my father’s payday when he brought his salary home.  My aunts were better off. Aunt Rosa didn’t have children and her husband had a good job. 

In 1937 [Great Terror] 10 my father’s cousin brother Leonid Ledovskiy was arrested. His real surname was Krikshtein and Ledovskiy was his Party nickname. He and his wife were underground Bolsheviks. Her Party nickname was Krasnen’kova. They had two children. their son was born shortly after Dzerzhinskiy 11 died and was named Felix after him. They named their daughter Ivstalinka after Stalin and his initials I.V. In 1937 Leonid was arrested at night. We were horrified that he turned out to be an enemy of the people being an old underground Bolshevik. Could we talk or think about things? Well, we thought about those happenings, but we didn’t talk. Nobody heard from him for a long time. Later militia called his wife. They offered her to repudiate him as an enemy of the people. They threatened to arrest her and send to GULAG 12 and send their children to a children’s home for children of enemies of the people.  It was a tragedy for her to refuse from her husband, but to save her children she had to repudiate from her husband. Leonid was in exile at the construction of Belomor-Baltic channel [Editor’s note: Bertha must be wrong here since the Belomor-Baltic channel connecting the White Sea with the Onezhskoye Lake was inaugurated in 1933]. Prisoners worked on this channel manually with spades.  He came back home shortly before the war. He had lost his teeth having scurvy.  When the war began he went to the front where he perished. At the beginning of the war their son Felix also went to serve in the Navy. Leonid’s wife and their daughter evacuated. Ivstalinka died of typhus in evacuation. Leonid’s wife returned to Odessa after the war. Felix returned from the war and lived with his mother in a house on the corner of Zhukovskogo and Karl Marx Streets. Felix finished water Engineering College and worked in the navy design institute.  During Khrushchev 13 rule in the 1950s Leonid’s case was reconsidered and he was rehabilitated posthumously. Felix and his mother received a small amount of money as compensation for the loss of their breadwinner: such miserable peanuts. Felix’s mother died shortly afterward. Felix got married and I lost contact with them. He probably moved abroad.

I had all excellent marks at school. I liked geometry and algebra and I was fond of literature. We had a nice teacher of the Russian language. She came from an old family of intelligentsia. Unfortunately, I don’t remember her name. We listened to her with rapt attention. I liked Pushkin very much. We read a lot. We read newspapers and magazines at home. My friends were my classmates and my neighbor’s children. I didn’t care what nationality they were.  At home we didn’t celebrate Soviet holidays, though my father was a communist, but there were mandatory celebrations at school. We were raised patriotic. We celebrated October revolution anniversary 14. We went to parades. There was music and dancing in the streets. We were in high spirits and there was a holiday mood everywhere.
I was a pioneer and had all excellent marks and my portrait was on the board of honor in the children’s cinema theater named after Frunze 15. In 1938, when I was in the 8th grade, few of my classmates and I got recommendations to join Komsomol 16. We had to go to an interview in the district Komsomol committee. We were very excited. I can still remember this event: there was a commission in a room. We were asked questions. We had to know the names of all members of the Central Politbureau of the Communist Party. I cannot remember all details, but I remember that it was quite a ceremony. When we became Komsomol members we were to take an active part in public activities. I was a pioneer tutor in the 5th grade. We issued wallpaper and drew patriotic posters. We also arranged concerts and attended a physical culture club.

I spent a lot of time in the yard. It was a fenced yard with a gate. Our janitor closed the gate at midnight, I think. On hot summer days young people slept outside. There was a garden in the middle of the yard. There was a summer tent house, benches and a table in the corner. I used to play there with other girls. We played with dolls when we were small. When we grew up we knitted and made doll clothes and embroidered shirts. I still have some of our crafts.  I embroidered a pillowcase in a ‘richellite’ pattern: it’s very fine work. First you embroider a pattern with special stitches and then you cut it out. I still have a peacock that my mother started; she embroidered a contour and I completed the feathers. My friends and I went to the Lunnyi Park in Primorskiy Boulevard: we read, embroidered and crocheted. We sat in a circle embroidering and one girl used to read aloud. We also played ‘Baba, baba, give us fire’ running from one tree to another standing by a vacant tree. There is a similar game now when there are chairs in a circle, the music plays and participants have to sit down on vacant chairs. Boys played their own games.

In summer my parents sent me to a pioneer camp. My father made all necessary arrangements at his work for us to go to a camp.  I went to a different camp every year, but all of them were at the seashore.  Every summer I looked forward to going to a camp. There were children from Moscow and Leningrad. One year about thirty children came. We made friends and cried when time to say ‘good byes’ came. It was a full and interesting life. We had sports holidays. I was a lissome girl and they even called me a ‘girl without bones’. I actually folded in two reaching my heel with my head. I also went in for basketball in our palace of pioneers.  We trained in rented gyms in town schools. Our couch Lyonia Pilin was an experienced basketball player. He was a member of the town basketball team that won the first places in Ukraine.  We, girls, shouted for our town team because our couch played in it.  I knew all players. I remember Footerman, a tall Jewish player. He seemed older to us, young girls.  
When we grew older we used to go to the seashore, girls and boys, to bathe in the sea and play volleyball. We walked along Pushkinskaya Street and Primorskiy Boulevard. We sat on benches watching the sea. Or we got together at somebody’s home to dance. We always enjoyed ourselves and had lots of fun. I remember one of our classmates’ birthday when we got together and there were about thirty of us. We had one bottle of wine for all of us and we just had few drops of wine each of us, but we had so much fun. 

There was a Jewish theater in Grecheskaya Street Odessa. It’s where the Theater for young spectators is located. My parents often went to the theater, particularly they tried to attend first night performances. There were wonderful actors in the theater. I remember my father’s cousin brother Iohann Zeltser visiting from Leningrad. He was a journalist and wrote scripts to  the following movies: ‘Happiness hunters’ [(1936), about the establishment of the Birobidzhan 17 in the Far East], «Submarine Т-9», and others, only I don’t remember the names. He had a wife and three children. Regretfully, I don’t remember their names. We went to the theater during one of uncle Iohann’s visits. I admired this gathering of so many people enjoying themselves and nicely dressed. I can’t remember the performance, but I remember this festive atmosphere. During the war uncle Iohann was a military journalist. He perished on the battleship ‘Marat’. This battleship was near the shore defending Leningrad. It was partially destroyed during a batter. I had no contacts with his family after the war.  I went to the theater for the second time with my mother. I was about 16 and was a big girl, but I didn’t understand the language, but watching Bugova’s [Lia Bugova: famous Jewish actress in Odessa, after World War II she performed at the Russian theater in Odessa] acting I couldn’t help crying.   It was the ‘Overseas’ performance about people leaving or vice versa, coming back from there, I can’t remember exactly. We didn’t discuss this performance or the subject of departure at home. No, we didn’t.  We discussed beautiful acting.  At that time I was sure that I was lucky to be born in this country, at that place and at that time. There was a drama club in our school. It was headed by Basmanov, actor of the Jewish Theater. I was in the 10th grade then. We staged some plays, but they weren’t in the Jewish language, of course. I remember that he taught us acting and reciting. After I finished school this club was closed.

I finished school with a golden award: there were no medals at that time. I wanted to continue my studies in Leningrad. I was 17. My parents didn’t want to le me go to another town considering my age.  So I entered the Industrial College in Odessa. I had no problems with admission. I submitted my school certificate and they admitted me. I had a wonderful time being the first-year student. I had ideas and believed in the happy future like all young people at the time. I remember my first day in college. My friends and I came into a huge hall with a balcony and a staircase leading to the classrooms. There were boys on the balcony watching us. I made new friends in college. We used to go home together. I even had an admirer in college. He used to write me messages. He complained that I was always with my friends and he couldn’t talk to me alone. His name was Lyonia. He perished during the Great Patriotic War.

During the War

I remember the beginning of the Great Patriotic War. It was Sunday, 22 June 1941. Molotov 18 spoke on the black plate-shaped radio. He said that the war began. We didn’t believe that there could be a war. It was a shock for us. On 26 June I passed my exam in physics.  We didn’t consider evacuation at the beginning. We thought the war was to be over within two weeks. We believed that our troops would just defeat Germans and that was it.  However, when our government realized the war was going to last longer it took a decision for evacuation.  My father’s plant evacuated. They disassembled all equipment, loaded it on a train and shipped to Saratov.  My father was appointed supervisor of this shipment and went to Saratov. We went by boat.
My mother, my brother Zachariy, my mother’s sister Rosa and I evacuated on the ‘Tashkent’ boat on 2 August 1941. The street leading to Tamozhennaya Square in the port was overcrowded. We had to climb a ladder onto the boat. People were jumping onto the lower deck missing the ladder. We were all sent to the hold where adults, old people and children were lying side by side. The boat departed at night fearing air raids. When it got dark an air raid began. It was quiet in the hold at first until somebody started a song: ‘The sea stretched out wide and the waves are storming far away. My comrade, we are going far away, far from our land’.  It was a popular song. Then people began to cry and scream.  Everybody understood we were going to the unknown. The previous boat ‘Lenin’ bumped into a mine in the sea. It drowned. There were over ten thousand passengers on it. Only 419 survived. They were sent to Mariupol.  In Mariupol I met a girl from this boat. She was 20 and she was a brunette, but when I saw her, her hair was white. It was horrible what she went through! People were fighting for their life grabbing others by their feet pulling them down. Many of them drowned.  

We were accommodated in a school building in Mariupol. We slept on the floor on our luggage. We were there several days. Aunt Rosa went to Tokmak.  My mother, Zachariy and I went to Saratov by a freight train. I don’t remember how we managed to get food on the way, but we somehow survived.  It was a long trip and we arrived in Saratov in winter. It was December, minus 36 degrees.  We joined my father in Saratov. We lived  in a room and our landlady lived in another in her apartment. One railcar with the plant equipment got lost and some officers [from NKVD] came for my father. I don’t know by what miracle they didn’t shoot him at once, but he was taken to court.  We didn’t have anything to eat. My mother went to the evacuation agency at the railway station where she could get some bread.  My mother fell ill with typhus.  My father was in jail and my mother was ill. I don’t know how we managed. Besides, we became enemies of the people in our surrounding since my father was in jail.  Fortunately, everything turned out well. This ill-fated railcar arrived and my father was released.  Life was hard in Saratov and we went to my mother’s sisters Rosa and Tsylia in Tokmak [3. 625 km from Odessa in Kirghizia]. My father stayed to work at his plant in Saratov. They manufactured mines.
We were very poor and starved. My brother was just a boy of 11. There was anti-Semitism and it was very hard for him. He was often called: ‘zhyd – running on a rope’. I didn’t face any anti-Semitism. I was older and others didn’t dare to abuse me.  I worked at the motor repair plant. I was a turner apprentice. The plant repaired vehicles from the front. When my management heard that I studied in college they transferred me to work in the quality assurance department (OTK).  We rented a room in a house on the outskirts of Tokmak. We worked two shifts and in the evening I was afraid of going home in the dark.  I took off my shoes and walked barefooted.  My mother was a night watch in a watermelon plantation. In 1943 I went to study in Kharkov College of Housing Construction evacuated to Frunze. My mother and brother stayed in Tokmak.

After Ukraine was liberated teachers and students willing to go back to Ukraine were allowed to go home. My college returned to Kharkov in March 1944. I came back with my college. Kharkov was burnt to ashes. The power in the town switched from Germans to our troops and then back again four times. We were accommodated in a hostel with no glass in the windows.  We woke up covered with snow in the morning. It was terrible, but I still felt happy to be near Odessa. I remember this unspeakable joy when we heard that Odessa was liberated in April 1944. It’s hard to find words to describe what happened to us: we hugged, kissed and cried. Our dear Odessa was liberated! It was required to have a permit to go to Odessa. How was I to go back to Odessa? I went to the dean’s office before the academic year began and obtained a certificate for going home to Odessa to pick up warm clothes for winter. At that time my mother moved to my father in Saratov and there were no other relatives staying in Odessa. I was the first one to come to Odessa.

There were tenants in all apartments in our house. Jews were away: some didn’t return from the ghetto. There were only Russian neighbors living in their apartments. A postman and his invalid mother lived in our apartment. I asked our Russian neighbor Valia to let me stay overnight in her apartment.  Valia was one year younger than I. When the war began she placed a big cross on her door for Germans to know that there were Russians living in this apartment.  Few days later I went to my college and they gave a bed in the hostel. When my parents and my brother returned, I lived in the hostel and they stayed with our relatives or acquaintances. Actually, it seemed nobody expected to have us back in our town. Our belongings were stolen after we evacuated.  Only in 1948 we managed to get our apartment back through a court.

I remember Victory day very well. I was sleeping under the piano in my aunt Rosa’s apartment on 9 May. There were those black plate-shaped radios in apartments and they were always on.  At night the radio announced capitulation of Germany. We went mad of joy listening to each word of it. Then people began shooting. We didn’t go to sleep for the rest of the night and at dawn we ran to the town council. There were crowds of people there. They were crying and laughing and there was music playing.

After the War

I met my husband Georgiy Isayev in college. I studied at the Electric Engineering Faculty and he studied at another Faculty. He was born in Tbilisi in 1923. He was Russian. I didn’t care about his nationality. This is the way we were raised.  After finishing college in 1950 I followed my husband to Kaluga where he had his job assignment 19. I went to work in a design institute.  We designed hospitals, houses and telephone stations. I received  150 rubles per month. I sent my mother 80 rubles each month. My mother had to go to work after the war. She picked any work she could lay her hands on. After the war my brother Zachariy studied  in a food school and continued his studies in Odessa College of Food Industry.  

Fortunately, the period of ‘doctors’ plot’ 20 in 1952 didn’t affect my family, though my cousin Olga Gurovich and her husband were doctors. One distant relative worked as a doctor in the Jewish hospital. I remember Stalin’s death in 1953. I lived in Kaluga at that time. I remember that many people were crying and fainting. He was the father of all peoples. The only thing I knew was that there would be a replacement for him. I didn’t feel distressed. The regime remained the same and it was all right with me.  I don’t think there were any changes.  

In 1951 my father was very ill.  In early 1952 I came to Odessa to have my baby there. My father died few months before his grandson was born. My father was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Slobodka [neighborhood on the outskirts of Odessa ], and I don’t think there were any traditions observed. Shortly after he died my son Eduard was born. I was to go back to work and my mother went to Kaluga with me. Then my mother left home and I hired a baby sitter to look after my son while I went to work. Some time later I divorced my husband and returned to Odessa in 1955. My husband and I never resumed our relationships afterward. Eduard was two years and a half.  My mother helped me to raise Eduard. 

In Odessa I went to work at the Giprocommunstroy design institute. I worked there 35 years before I retired. When I returned from Kaluga I began to reconstruct our apartment. I had an annex constructed where we had a balcony. We put a stove in it and made there a kitchen.  I had water, gas and sewerage facilities installed. I had to borrow money from my relatives and then it took me some time to pay back my debts. Our apartment became more comfortable. About this time I bought a ‘Record’ TV set. It was a big TV with a small screen.  My relatives and neighbors came to watch TV with us.

My mother was a very nice and kind person. After my father died she dedicated her life to me and Eduard. I spent my vacations with colleagues. We traveled and went hiking. We bought tours through trade union committee at work and paid 30% of their cost. I traveled to various locations across the USSR. Eduard was with my mother at home when I traveled. My mother died in 1971. We buried her near my father in the Jewish cemetery in Slobodka.

My brother Zachariy finished Odessa College of Tinned Food Industry in the middle 1950s.  After finishing college he went to work at Giprocommunstroy where I was working at the time.  My brother and I got along well and always supported each other. Zachariy married Lisa, a Jewish girl. In 1968 his daughter Larisa was born. In the late 1990s they moved to Australia. We keep in touch calling each other on the phone. 

I started my career at the institute as an engineer. Then I became senior engineer and then team leader. I never faced any anti-Semitism at work. Over 50% of employees were Jews. Our director Konstantin was summoned to the regional party committee many times. They reprimanded him for the wrong national policy. They believed there were too many Jewish employees working in the institute. I think he had three reprimands, but he didn’t react to them. When Konstantin retired they began to replace Jewish chiefs of departments.

In 1968 our institute constructed a house and I received a two-bedroom apartment in Filatov Street. I bought new furniture and other necessities on installments. I bought a sofa for Eduard, a table, a wardrobe, bed sheets, crockery and a carpet. There was a so-called ‘black cash’ in our institute. Employees paid monthly ten rubles each and when the total amount reached about one hundred one of us could borrow it for his own needs. Therefore, an engineer, for example, could afford to buy expensive things: furniture or house appliances.

I didn’t raise Eduard Jewish. I was also raised Soviet: in the course of time we lost Jewish traditions. Eduard had a Russian father and Russian friends. Besides, there was a 2% quota for Jews in educational institutions. It was hard to demonstrate one’s Jewish identity under such circumstances. Eduard is Russian in his documents like his father. In 1959 Eduard went to school #49. After finishing the 8th grade he went to school #116.  It was a popular school and admission was based on lower secondary school certificates and interviews. There were special classes with prioritized studies of physics, mathematic and humanitarian subjects. Eduard was planning to go to a technical college and went to a mathematic class. Alevtina Ivanovna Kudinova, director of school #116 was an amazing person. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her school.  There were no obstacles for her. She loved her job. She introduced self-government at school: schoolchildren acted as deputy directors and directors. She hired best teachers. There were many talented children at school and there were many Jewish children. In the 1990s Alevtina Ivanovna arranged a meeting of her alumna that lasted few days. Alevtina Ivanovna died few months ago (2003).

Many Jews left the country in the 1970s and in the 1990s, but I never considered it; this was too serious a matter.  Society didn’t approve this at the time and these issues were discussed at work. Those who wanted to leave were considered to be traitors. Some of my colleagues also left. I’ve never traveled abroad, but I wrote letters. We met when they visited here. We wrote about routinely matters in our letters. We never discussed political subjects and there were no grounds for official authorities to interfere with our correspondence.

In 1970 Eduard entered the Electric Engineering Faculty in Odessa Polytechnic College. I hired private teachers for him and he had no problems with entrance exams. I wanted to be sure that he would be admitted since I didn’t want him to go to the army.  Eduard studied well in college. After finishing college he went to work at Giprocommunstroy where my brother and I were working. This was our dynasty in this institute. Eduard got married, but his marriage didn’t last.  His daughter Zoya lives in America now.  Eduard is fond of traveling. He used to guide hiking tours to the Crimea. Now he is a businessman. 

When perestroika 21 began I retired. Life became more difficult for older people, but in the latest years we learned many new things about our history and life abroad. We lived in the world of limited information before. As for me, I’ve never spoken my mind in public and I don’t feel any need in the freedom of speech really. 

I know that there is a Jewish community nowadays, but I do not take any active part in its life. However, I know more about Jewish life in our town. I receive two Jewish newspapers: ‘Or Sameach’ and ‘Shomrey Shabos’ and I know that we have a Jewish cultural Center. Recently I went to a concert of the children from the Jewish school ‘Or Sameach’ 22 in the Philharmonic Theater. They are such wonderful children: how they dance and sing! I am very glad that there are Jewish schools and kindergartens where they tell children the history of Jewish people and teach religion. I know that there is a Jewish library at school, but I do not use its services.  I receive packagers from Gemilut Hesed each month. They are very good packages. It is nice of tem to support old people and pay for medications. I am not religious, but I read in Jewish newspapers about what needs to be done on holidays. It is very interesting to know such things.  I am a Jew and I must follow our customs and traditions. I sympathize with Israel and I am very concerned that there is shooting and fighting there.

Glossary

Semyon Goldwar
Odessa
Ukraine
Natalia Fomina
Date of interview: December 2002

Semyon Mironovich Goldwar  is a thin and slim man. He is a wonderful storyteller. He is expressive and when he gets to emotional events his eyes fill with tears. Semyon Mironovich likes to recall the time when he was young. Semyon lives in a two-room apartment. He has a nicely furnished living room: there is a sofa, armchairs, a cupboard with china, bookshelves with art albums and few water colors on the walls.

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

My family background

My maternal great grandfather Simkha Rabinovich had died long before I was born. I was named after him. I don’t know what he did for a living. But I know that both of my great grandparents were born in Odessa. I remember my great grandmother Khona, the mother of my maternal grandfather Isaiya Rabinovich. My great grandmother didn’t wear a wig or a shawl from what I remember. On an old photograph she has a nice hairdo. She lived with her daughter Revekka Dvorkina in a two-storied building, their apartment was on the 2nd floor. My great grandmother loved me dearly and spoiled me a lot. She brought me candy when she was visiting us. During the Great Patriotic War 1 she was over 80 and couldn’t evacuate and was left in care of her neighbors and my grandmother Bertha. I don’t know how she perished.

My grandfather on my mother’s side Isay Rabinovich was born in Odessa in the 1860s. I don’t know what kind of education he got, but I am sure that he finished a grammar school. Before the revolution of 1917 my grandfather supplied leather to Odessa leather factory. He purchased leather in Nizhniy Novgorod, Leipzig and Dresden. My grandfather could speak foreign languages. He wore business suits and was very elegant. He had a beard and moustache. My grandfather died in 1929 when I was 5. He was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Odessa. In 1948 I found his gravestone – a flat marble slab heightened at the head.

My grandmother Bertha Rabinovich, nee Bronshtein, was born in Odessa in the late 1860s. She was a housewife. My mother told me that they had a cook, but my grandmother made delicious Jewish food by herself. My grandmother was an intelligent and educated woman. She finished grammar school and had fluent French. She held herself straight and always looked very elegant. She didn’t wear a wig or a shawl. My mother never told me whether they observed Jewish traditions in her family. They spoke Russian at home. After my grandfather died my grandmother lived in the family of her daughter Clara. She helped her daughter to raise her children. My grandmother had hypertension. There were no special medications at that time and she used leeches to reduce her blood pressure. During the Great Patriotic War my grandmother stayed in Odessa. She perished in the ghetto in 1942 along with her daughter Clara and her three grandchildren. I don’t know where they were buried, but in 1985 I placed a gravestone with their names beside the graves of my mother and father at the Jewish cemetery in Slobodka. [Slobodka is a neighborhood on the outskirts of Odessa.]

My grandparents had four children: two boys and two girls. They received a good education: they had music classes and private teachers at home. My mother’s older brother Grigoriy Rabinovich was born in Odessa around 1892. He was a brilliant and purposeful man. My mother recalled that he decided to learn to play the horn in his teens. It was too loud and all neighbors were unhappy about it, but he learned to play the horn. He finished grammar school in Odessa with honors and entered Physics and Mathematic Faculty at Moscow University before the revolution of 1917. After the revolution he lectured at the same university Uncle Grigoriy didn’t have children of his own. He was married for the second time. His wife Ania had two sons of 11 and 12 years of age. Later he divorced Ania and married again. He had a son - Alik. In 1937 2 uncle Grigoriy was arrested. He was accused of an attempted encroachment on Stalin. He went on hunger strike in jail of which he died.  We found out the details of Grigoriy’s death only after Stalin died.  His son Alik had a weird phobia – he went out only at nighttime and was afraid of people. I used to call Alik on the phone when I came to Moscow on business, but now I don’t keep in touch with him.  

Misha (Moisey) the other brother, one year younger than my father, was born in Odessa in 1898. Misha finished Realschule 3 at the same time as my father did. He was as talented as Grigoriy, but he had a different character – he liked entertainment and was easy-going. He played the piano and sang. He was very handsome. My father liked to tell me the story of how Misha introduced him in 1919 to Vera Kholodnaya, a Russian mute film star that lived in Odessa. My father was a provincial man and felt very shy in her presence while Misha was quite at ease. Misha invited my father to his house where he met his sister Raissa, my mother. After finishing school Misha entered a shipbuilding institute in Nikolaev. Upon finishing the institute he began to work at the shipyard in Nikolaev. Misha made a career – he became construction manager at the plant. This position was higher than the position of the director of the plant in a way. Construction manager could directly contact the minister of heavy machine building of the USSR. Uncle Misha had to be a party member to hold such high position. His older brother’s arrest didn’t have an impact on his career.  He must have been a highly valued employee at his work and nobody dared to do any harm to him. One of big torpedo boats made under his supervision was called the Tashkent – it became the best ship of the Black Sea Navy. I remember uncle Misha coming to Odessa to attend the testing of this ship. During the Great Patriotic War this torpedo boat participated in the defense of Sevastopol and Odessa.  It was destroyed by a German submarine and sank. During the Great Patriotic War uncle Misha and his family evacuated to the Urals where all defense enterprises were evacuated. After the war he continued his work at the defense plant. Uncle Misha died from stomach ulcer in 1962. His son Emmanuil  born in 1928 also graduated from the shipbuilding institute. In 1990 he moved to Israel with his children. 

My mother’s sister Clara, born in Odessa in 1911, was the youngest in the family and my favorite. She was only 13 years older than me. She was very pretty. Clara finished school and got married. Her husband was land surveyor and his last name was Elentukh. He used to work with my father and my father introduced him to Clara. In 1930 their twins Shura and Genia were born. In 1940 her daughter Jeanne was born. Before the war the family lived near the town park in the center of Odessa where they moved in 1935 from Slobodka. When the war began in 1941 Clara’s husband went to the front. Clara, her three children and her mother, my grandmother Bertha refused to evacuate. Clara believed that the Germans were harmless and were not to last over two or three months. She didn’t want to move with the children to strange places, so she stayed. She was last seen with her mother and children in the march of Jews along Koblevskaya Street to the ghetto in Slobodka in January 1942. We don’t know how they perished, but we know that it must have been an excruciatingly tormenting death.

My grandfather on my father’s side Avrum-Leizer Goldwarg was born in Berezovka town, Kherson province [90 km from Odessa] in 1845. At that time Berezovka had Jewish and German population. The Germans were called ‘dachi’ – probably a derivative of ‘deutsch‘. People communicated in German and Yiddish. At home my grandmother and grandfather spoke Yiddish, but they also knew Russian that they used with my mother and me. My grandfather was a religious man and attended the synagogue – he was a gabbai, a warden in the synagogue. [The interviewee means a shammash and not a community representative, what gabbai really means.] This was an elective position and the Jews usually elected the most decent and honest man. My grandfather was a horse dealer. He went to Odessa and other towns to buy the weakest and most miserable horses that he cured in his own stables and sold at a higher price. This was how he made a living. His family was wealthy for its time. They had a 3-hectare plot of land and two houses. They leased the smaller house and lived in the bigger two-storied house: my grandfather, grandmother and their younger son Isaac and his family. We also stayed there when we visited Berezovka They had a big orchard and a big barn with grain.

In the late 1920s my grandparents moved to Odessa to join their children there. They lived with their son Isaac’s family. I remember visiting my uncle. There was a mezzanine in their apartment where my grandfather used to pray and I peeped into the keyhole. He put leather cubes on his hands and forehead and put on a thallith and prayed swinging. He died from pneumonia in 1931 at the age of 87. He was buried according to the Jewish tradition. He was put on a white sheet on the floor and there were candles burning. Then he was taken to the main synagogue in Rishelievskaya street on the corner of the Jewish Street. This was my first time in synagogue. It was a beautiful building with columns of the Corinthian Order, benches for men in the lower tier and women’s area in the upper tier. My grandfather was covered with a black cloth with a hexahedral star on it. My grandfather was a very respectable man and he was carried by people in their hands from the synagogue to Jewish cemetery– the distance of about 3 km. Many people came to his funeral. I remember the ride in a horse-driven cart where elderly Jews were sitting, since they couldn’t walk such a long distance. The community installed a gravestone on my grandfather’s grave. I can’t remember where exactly his grave was. I tried to find his grave in 1948, but I failed. I found the grave of my other grandfather, though.

My grandmother on my father’s side Rivka Goldwarg, nee Grinshtein, was born in Berezovka in 1861. My grandmother was a housewife: she did everything about the house and kept livestock; chickens, ducks and a cow that she milked twice a day. She made traditional Jewish food: Gefilte fish, stew, sweet and sour meat, meat with prunes and stuffed chicken neck with chicken liver or semolina. She baked delicious pastries and made jam. There was a Russian stove in the kitchen and my grandmother baked bread once a week. She took some grain from the barn to the German baker to grind it to flour and made rich and big bread. This was the most delicious bread I ever had in my life. We lived in Berezovka when I was 4 and my mother watched my grandmother cooking to learn things from her. My grandmother wore dark skirts and a  kerchief on her head. She was religious and went to synagogue on Saturday and on holidays. A Ukrainian woman came to do the housework on Saturday. After my grandfather died my grandmother lived with her son Isaac and went to evacuation in Tashkent during the war. In 1944 they returned to Odessa. My grandmother died in Odessa in 1952

As far as I remember she had 5 children, they were born in Berezovka town, Kherson province. Lyova, the oldest in the family, was born in early 1880s. He died when he was two. The next one Matvey was born in1889. He was the fist one of my grandparents’ children to move to Odessa. He was a pharmacist at the Weinshtein pharmacy. My father told me that during the imperialist war Matvey was to be mobilized in the army. [By imperialist war the interviewee means WWI.] My grandmother took him to a doctor that made an injection and his forefinger stopped functioning. He wasn’t drafted , but his hand got inflamed after this injection and had to be amputated.  It resulted in a general inflammation of which he died in the 1920s. Sophia was the next child. All I know about her is that she died from tuberculosis when she was young. My father’s brother Isaac was born in 1900. He also moved to Odessa. He had lower secondary education. He was director of a food products storehouse. He was married. His daughter Raya was born in the 1930s. In the late 1920s my grandfather and grandmother moved to Isaac’s place. During the war he and his family evacuated to Taskent. After the war they came back to Odessa where they lived in their old apartment. Uncle Isaac died in the early 1970s. His daughter Raya lives in Germany. 

My father’s sister Etia (she was called Tyusha at home) was born in 1903. Etia finished a secondary school and studied in Odessa University. When she was a third year student she married her fellow student. Later she got ill. As a result of this illness she began to pull her leg. She turned into an invalid from a beautiful girl. She divorced her husband and quit the university. She became very nervous and closed. She finished an accounting school and learned typing. She often left Odessa for Soviet construction sites, but then she returned and her father or uncle Isaac helped her to find a job. In some time she left again. She was like a curse of our kinship. In late 1960s she moved to Israel. I don’t know anything else about her. 

My father Miron Goldwar was born in Berezovka, Kherson province, in 1897. He was not called Goldwarg because he asked the last letter to be deleted in his last name when he received his passport. He might have studied in cheder in Berezovka. He came to Odessa when he was a young boy. His older brother Matvey lived in Odessa. Matvey helped him to get an employment in the Yung’s pharmacy. My father was a courier – he delivered medications that he stored in a basket. He entered a Realschule. He studied well and was ambitious. He gained much from meeting the Rabinovich family – not just because he met my mother. My father was struck by their way of life. He came from a small and poor family in a village. And all of a sudden he joined the society of educated and wealthy people. He was planning to work hard to gain such way of life, but the total confusion in the country connected with the revolution of 1917 and Civil War broke his plans.

My mother Raissa Rabinovich was born in Odessa in 1900. She was a beautiful woman and always looked younger than her age and when she got her passport she changed her birth date to 1904. My mother enjoyed recalling her life in her father’s home. She was an only daughter in the family for a long time and her parents and brothers loved and petted her. My mother finished a grammar school. She enjoyed studying at school. She knew French and played the piano. She had many friends and admirers. After finishing grammar school in the age of 17 my mother lived with her parents and didn’t work. My mother met my father when she was rather young. My father was a classmate of Misha, my mother’s brother. My father often visited the Rabinovich family and fell in love with the young schoolgirl. 

My parents got married in the early 1920s. My father courted my mother for a long time before marrying her. I didn’t ask my parents about their wedding, I didn’t even know anything about a traditional Jewish wedding. At that time my father was taken by the authorities to do land surveying. My father was the supervisor of a team of land surveyors – they traveled across the south of Ukraine, measuring plots of land for farmers and later – for collective farms during the period of collectivization 4. My father didn’t quite enjoy traveling because he wanted to study. He was planning to continue his education. My mother followed him in his trips. My mother had asthma since childhood. She had attacks, especially at night. There were no medications and my mother inhaled some herbs to improve her breathing. She had a poor heart and my father sent her to the resort in Kislovodsk  once every second year during the 1930s. [Kislovodsk is a balneal resort in Stavropol region and it is located at the foothills of the Caucasus at the height of 720 -1060 meters.] He saved up money for my mother. When she went there for the first time she stayed in bed for two weeks – it took her this long to get adjusted to the new climatic conditions. She got much better – this resort was very good for her and improved her condition significantly every time she went there. She didn’t have any asthma attacks for a whole year.

Growing up

I was born in my grandmother’s house on 7 April 1924. But I don’t remember anything about the house. My grandmother Bertha insisted that my mother gave birth to her baby in Odessa. A midwife came to attend to my mother during her labor. I was the first grandson in the Rabinovich family. I was the only baby and everybody paid their attention to me, especially my mother’s 13-year-old sister Clara. We lived with my grandparents for about a year. Later we traveled all over Ukraine with my father. We lived in Proskurov and Berezovka and then with my grandfather Avrum-Leizer in Kherson. My mother was a housewife. I learned to read when I was 5. I remember that my mother was reading to me The White Poodle by Kuprin. [Kuprin was a Russian writer who emigrated to Paris in 1919 but returned to the Soviet Union in 1937.] I was so moved by the story of this dog that I even cried over the story. I learned letters from this book and my mother said to me once: ‘That’s it, now you read it by yourself.’ So, I began to read this book. This book inspired me to read books. We had many books. Most of them were fiction in Russian. I was especially fond of historical novels, such as Napoleon by Evgeny Tarle. [Tarle was a  Soviet historian and writer of Jewish origin.] My parents also read a lot.

In the summer of 1931 when I was 7 I went to Moscow with my grandmother Bertha. We went to see uncle Grigoriy. Grigoriy suggested that I stayed with him and went to the first form at school in Moscow, since my father had to travel and we usually followed him. We lived in my uncle’s summerhouse in Malakhovka near Moscow. My grandmother didn’t get along with Grigoriy’s wife. I was bored and I was a spoiled boy – I must have been tactless at times. Uncle Grigoriy had a crude character and he beat me few times. Basically, we didn’t get along and uncle Grigoriy sent me back to my parents

In 1931 or 1932 we moved from Kherson to Odessa. In 1932 my father quit his job and entered Odessa Construction Institute. We rented the 2nd floor of a small two-storied house near the market across the street from the church in Slobodka.  We lived in one room. I cannot remember how it was furnished. My mother’s sister Clara, her family and grandmother Bertha occupied two other rooms. We had a common kitchen and a toilet. There was running water and electricity in the house, but the stove was wood stake. I was allowed to play with the other children in the yard and to this day I do not know of what nationality they were; it was not important. We lived there for too short time and my parents did not make friends with anybody. There was plenty of snow in winter. My father made me wooden skates that I tied to my winter boots to skate. 

1932–1933 were years of famine 5. My father worked at a construction site in the daytime and studied at the Institute in the evening. My father took empty containers to the Institute where he received a free meal that he took home. There was some mixture for the first course called ‘green borsch’. My mother added some water and carrots to it to make it eatable. And there was some cereal for the second course. My mother worked at the Torgsin 6 at the New Market. My mother received her salary in rubles and a portion of it was calculated in hard currency, only they couldn’t have it, but could receive butter or sugar for it. My parents also received tram tickets at work – 30-60 tickets that I used to sell 15 kopecks each at a tram stop to make some money. My parents walked to work. Tram 15 that commuted from Slobodka to the center of the town stopped near the Duke’s Garden where all passengers got off the tram to walk uphill and the tram climbed the hill empty. The tram was not powerful enough to go up the hill with the passengers on. On top of the hill all passengers got in to continue on their way. I also remember when my father bought a box of cigarette paper he and my mother stuffed them with tobacco and I went to sell them at the market. I was selling them humming the tune: ‘Kupite, koyft di papirosn’. [This is the first line of a well-known Yiddish song.] My mother and I were trying to do our best to help my father provide for the family.

My father worked as foreman after he finished the Institute. He worked on a number of construction sites in Odessa and I often came to see him at work. He wanted me to become an architect and shared his experiences with me. He climbed the scaffold on the construction site of Pedagogical Institute where a 3rd floor was added to the first one to show me the way beams were installed.

I remember the Odessa of my childhood with paved street. There were several tram lines – one of them commuted to Luzanovka, a popular beach in the outskirts of Odessa, another 17 commuted to Arkadia [a beach in town]. Trams were always overcrowded and people were hanging from the doors. On Sunday my mother, father and I went to the beach in Luzanovka – our tickets cost 60 kopecks. We got on with a basket full of food for a day. We spent the whole day on the beach. In 1937 my father and a group of engineers from the construction department received a little plot of land near the sea. Six of them built three houses and each family received half a house into their disposal: two rooms, a small kitchen and a big verandah. There was a cellar under the kitchen. and a shower, electricity and running water in the house. We planted an orchard. Since 1937 we moved there in May after the school ended and staid till the fall when it got cold in this summerhouse. The father went to work from there. I used to walk barefoot there. I spent all my time on the beach. I swam and dived well.  

I went to the first class of the Ukrainian higher secondary school near our house in 1932. Our first teacher was a fat rough woman. She slapped us on our cheeks. I was a naughty and lively boy and suffered the most. Once I gathered together a group of my classmates and led them to director’s office to complain. The situation was scandalous and the teacher was hfired.  We liked a lot our next teacher Vera Ivanovna. I don’t know what nationalities were in my class. We didn’t focus on the issue of any national origin. I got along well with all children. At Christmas our teacher staged an anti-religious play  The Pope and the Barometer. It was about a draught when farmers asked a priest to pray for rain. The priest said that they were sinners and didn’t deserve to be prayed for. But then one day he said to the farmers: ‘All right, I don’t want your children to be hungry – let’s go to the field and I shall pray.’ They went into the field and the moment the priest began to say his prayer it began to rain. However, the reason was that the priest had a barometer at home and knew when it would rain. I read the author’s lines – and our performance deserved a storm of applause. But when I came out of the school some boys in the street called me ‘zhyd’ [Jew]. I heard the word zhyd for the first time. When I came home I began to ask my parents what the word zhyd meant and they had to calm me down. 

When I finished the second class in 1934 year we moved to the center of the town. My mother had a friend, Sopha Pekelis, who lived on the second floor of a house in the very best part of Odessa. The 1st floor of their house was a confectionery store that belonged to her father during the NEP 7 and later was confiscated by the Soviet power. The Pekelis family moved to Kislovodsk in 1934 and we moved into their apartment. I went to a Russian secondary school. Before we moved I gave my photograph to my favorite teacher Vera Ivanovna to show my love. We had very good teachers at the new school. I studied successfully and was fond of geography, natural history and anatomy.  Elizabeth Grigorievna Garun, our teacher of natural sciences, gave me a 5+ for my knowledge of natural sciences. [The highest grade is 5.] I went to the municipal public library to read books on anatomy and made reports on the circulation of blood and the nervous system in class and made presentation materials for her. I also remember the Russian teacher. I read a lot and she advised me on the books to read. As for Ukrainian language and literature, our teacher Olga Moiseevna Khmelnitskaya made us learn many Ukrainian poems by heart and taught us Ukrainian traditions and rituals. I can still remember many Ukrainian poems. She spoke only Ukrainian to us. I remember visiting the school after the war, still wearing my military uniform – how happy I was to see my old teachers! I asked where Olga Moiseevna was and our teacher of physics, said: ‘Don’t you know? She perished in the ghetto.’ So, she was a Jew – it really never occurred to me. I believed she was Ukrainian. Her husband and son perished along with her.

At 15 I joined the Komsomol 8 league. I looked forward to this day. I believed in all the communist ideas. The first step was the School Komsomol Committee. The final decision was taken by the District Committee. There you solemnly received your Komsomol card. I took an active part in public life: I was the editor of our wall newspaper. I liked all Soviet holidays: the October Revolution Day 9 and the 1st of May. On these days we went in a march with red flags and communist slogans on banners. I had many friends and never thought about their nationality. My father didn’t share my enthusiasm and was hostile to the Soviet regime, especially when the arrests began in 1937. My mother always tried to smoothen down my father’s moods. They began to be particularly concerned after uncle Grigoriy was arrested in Moscow in 1937. My father never wanted to join the Communist Party, but he never interfered in my Komsomol activities. Our family was entirely secular and had nothing to do with Jewish tradition.

During the War

I remember the beginning of the Great Patriotic War.  It was Sunday and I was going on a visit to my favorite aunt Clara. I went across the town park when I saw a group of people listening to Molotov’s 10 speech. He announced that the night before Hitler attacked the USSR without declaration of the war. On the first days of the war the young people were full of enthusiasm to win a victory within about a month.

My father was mobilized to the army on the first days of the war. He was on a construction site in Novosibirsk [3,700 km from Odessa] to construct facilities for the factories evacuated from Ukraine. Later he was sent to the Leningrad front where he was throughout the period of the blockade 11. After Leningrad was liberated he worked at the restoration of ruined buildings in Leningrad and was demobilized in 1945.

Odessa was bombed for the first time on 22 July – a month after the war began. The first bomb was dropped in Gogol Street. The house was destroyed and for a long time there was a piano half-hanging on the third floor. My friend Tamara Agalarova perished during one of the first bombings. Our enthusiasm was over and was replaced by fear. My mother and I moved to our summer house where it seemed to be safer. I insisted that we evacuated. I didn’t believe that Germans were cultured people. We needed a special permit for evacuation. The logistics department of the army occupied one of our two rooms for some time. After the evacuation began one of the officers named Gankevich obtained a permit for my mother – he told the authorities that she was his wife and I was his son, and we managed to leave Odessa.

On 8 October 1941 we boarded a ship called Armenia and on 16 October Odessa was left to the Germans. Near the cape Tarkhankut [south-east of the Crimean peninsula] the boat was stranded in the night. The boat was overcrowded – there were over 3 thousand people including wounded military. In the morning two trawlers pulled us off the strand. My mother and I got off in Tuapse [port on the Black Sea shore]. My mother’s friend Sopha Pikelis lived in Kislovodsk [1,200 km from Odessa]. We got to Kislovodsk by train. I entered an artillery school there. We studied general subjects and some artillery subjects. I lived in a barrack.

In 1942 the front was close to Kislovodsk and I convinced my mother to go on to Djambul, Kazakhstan [3,200 km from Odessa]. I was to enter the army in August 1942. After my mother left and till the end of the war my mother and I corresponded. My mother has kept my letters. In the summer of 1942 I was transferred to the Rostov Artillery College. The Germans were near Bataysk, Rostov region, the tank army of Kleist was proceeding to the East. Our College was retreating together with the Red Army and had no provisions and very few weapons. I had a bottle of kerosene with a match and fuse sticking out of it. I was supposed to strike a match, throw the bottle on a tank and run away. But I had no opportunity to carry this out, thanks God. We were retreating through the Salskiye steppes near Stalingrad covered with fine dust few dozen centimeters deep. We had this dust in the mouth in the hair – everywhere. We were black covered with this dust, hungry and thirsty. We caught stray sheep, slaughtered them and I made borsch for the whole battery. We reached Ordjonikidze [Vladikavkaz at present] and moved along the Military Georgian Road 12, across the Caucasus mountains to Tbilissi. I remember a Chechen settlement Lars. The Chechens didn’t give us water. We came to the Krestovy pass when a snowstorm began. We crossed the pass and began our descent. There was a beautiful view in front of us - the blooming valley of the Aragvi River in Georgia. The Georgians were happy to help us: they gave us food and water and shared their clothing with us. In Tbilissi I got to the artillery school where I studied for 8 months. I was a success with my studies and helped other cadets – my group mates came from villages for a most part. I didn’t face any anti-Semitism. In May 1943 I finished the school in the rank of lieutenant. I was sent to the First Ukrainian front. My first big action that I took part in was liberation of Kiev in November 1943. Our battery was taken to the right bank of the Dnieper River and we were to distract attention of the enemy. It was a miracle that we survived. I was commanding officer of a howitzer battery. My howitzer cannon weighed 3 tons and was pulled by ten horses. I remember battle near Proskurov [town in Ukraine]. We didn’t have enough shells. A Churchill tank (an assistance from Great Britain) was near my battery and I begged him to pull my howitzer, since my horses were killed. Later I participated in the battles near the Dnestr. I was only twenty years old, but I was already a first lieutenant. I was wounded in the autumn 1944 in Germany, where I went with the offensive army, shell-shocked. One splinter injured my eye and another one hit my right side where it got stuck in my bag with papers. The bag saved my life. I kept that splinter for memory for a long time. I was put in the front hospital till the end of 1944. My eye injury resulted in blindness. I was hysterical being afraid of life-long blindness. The doctor assured me that I would see in two months. When a nurse removed my bandage I screamed ‘Light!’

At the end of 1944 I returned to my regiment. At first I was deputy regiment commander for reconnaissance. Then I became commanding officer of a battery. At the beginning of 1945 in Germany I became a member of the party. It was quite a natural step for me, a Komsomol member. I made a little pocket on the inner side of my shirt to keep my party membership card. We were heading for Berlin, but later we were ordered to turn to Prague, where an uprising 13 began. We covered 90 km per day. We sat on the cannons which were drawn by horses, this is how we traveled. We reached Prague after our tanks entered it – it happened on 9 May – Victory Day 14. We were so happy and rejoiced in our happiness. We laid a table – about one hundred meters long. Commander of our regiment appointed me to be on duty to take care of drunken officers just in case, since I didn’t drink. I returned home from Prague in 1945. I served in Berdichev [Zhytomir region, 500 km from Odessa] where I was Chief of headquarters of anti-tank.

After the War

My mother returned from evacuation in 1945. She found our apartment occupied by a militiaman – major Urbanskiy. She even went to see the commandant of the town, but it didn’t work. Then I came to Odessa for ten days. I gathered my friends and we came to my home. I told him to move out before the following day or, I said, I would throw him out of the window. The major moved out and I helped my mother to move in. My father was reconstructing a big plant in Leningrad where he was deputy director and returned home. When he returned home, my father went to work as foreman at a construction site. By the way, he participated in reconstruction of Annunciation cathedral. Since my father was a Jew from the point of ethical standards it was awkward for him to be working there since it was a Russian Orthodox church. Formally the Ukrainian Vassily Filippenko, father’s close friend was on the lists of the staff there and my father did the work. Vassily Filippenko lived in the Moldavanka 15 neighborhood, he spoke fluent Yiddish from his childhood. He was a nice man. I don’t remember my father ever going on vacation. He stayed at work and received compensation for his vacation period. My father retired in the early 1960s.

I demobilized from the army on 26 August 1946. I returned to Odessa and went to see the rector of the Construction Institute – he was also a war veteran. He ordered his subordinate to enroll me on the lists of students. That was how I became a student of the faculty of architecture at the Construction Institute. There were 11 veterans of war at my institute. We had wonderful lecturers. Many of them were Jews: professor Zeiliger, director of the Museum of Western and Oriental Art, Zametchik – correspondent member of the Academy of Science, and Gotlib, graduate of the Academy of Architecture in Paris. When we were 3rd year students the campaign of the struggle against cosmopolitism 16 began. I remember a meeting of our faculty attended by second secretary of the town committee of the Communist Party. Galia Golota that was at the front near Sevastopol took the floor and said: ‘Bortnik has just told me to vote for the resolution of the Party or I would be expelled from the Institute.’ We, veterans of the war did speak our mind regardless of the party politics. At the meeting we argued and talked a lot, but, alas, professors Zeiliger and Zametchik were fired from the Institute. 

I graduated from the Institute in 1951. I got a job assignment at the design department in Nikolaev. I went there with my friend Grinberg that lives in Los Angeles now. There was another architect from Kiev working there and the three of us received a 3-room apartment in the main street of the town. I was among developers of the design for the Palace of Shipbuilders, a cinema theater and few residential buildings. I traveled to Odessa every weekend. I was married at that time and had a son.

I met my wife at a friend’s party when I came on leave to Odessa to help my mother get back our apartment in 1945. There were dressed up young people at the party and I felt out of place in my military uniform. I was sitting in a corner of the room when I noticed a nice lovely girl. Her name was Musia Dalskaya. I took her home and when we were saying good bye to one another she said: ‘Senia, I feel shy, but I can’t help telling you that I like you much. I am telling you this, because that’s the way I feel.’ Well, it was almost a declaration of love. It was a surprise. I told her that I liked her and she was a nice girl, but that I had to leave. I went back to Berdichev. When I demobilized she was already married and had a son. When her son Robert turned 6 months old she divorced her husband. We began to see each other. My family was against our meetings – they thought I was too good for Musia, a divorced woman with a child. However, we got married. I did not care about her nationality, just as it is not an important issue for me today.

My wife’s father Motele Dalskiy came from Bobruysk in Byelorussia [750 km from Odessa]. He didn’t know his father or mother or date of birth. His parents must have perished during the Civil War. When Motele showed up at the market in Bobruysk all vendors tried to hide their goods, he was a notorious thief. He was imprisoned in a camp for underage criminals. He finished secondary school in this camp. When he was in the camp he took the last name of a popular Russian actor Mamont Dalskiy. My father-in-law was a very handsome man. Before the Great Patriotic War he was director of the film studio in Odessa. He was a member of the Communist Party. During the war he was at the front in the Crimea where he was head of the political department of a division. He was wounded. After the war he established a network of photo shops in Odessa called the Ukrphoto. Later he was Chairman of the Regional Council of trade unions of milk and meat industry. He died in the 1970s. My wife’s mother Anna Solomonovna was a housewife. She died in 1983. As far as I know they never kept any Jewish traditions.

My wife was born in Odessa in 1925. She graduated from secondary school. She was a photographer when we met, but later I helped her to get a job at a design institute where she was a registrar. She worked there until she retired. After the wedding I went to see Robert’s father that lived in Moscow. I told him that I wanted to adopt the boy and that he couldn’t have two fathers – one that lives with him and one that comes to see him every now and then. We went to the district municipal agency to have the adoption processed. Robert got to know that I was his adoptive father when he turned twenty. Or neighbor told him after she had an argument with us. Robert came to ask me whether it was true and I told him. I also said that he could call me by my first and patronymic names if he thought it necessary. My son hugged me saying ‘father, how can you think so?’ In 1952 our second son Alexandr was born. Our sons got along well. Robert felt responsible for Alexandr.

Both of our sons were raised the way all Soviet children were at the time. We taught them to love their family, and to be honest and industrious people. They got their share of the communist ideas in school. There was no religious influence from their grandparents on any side. They had both Jewish and non-Jewish friends and they never noticed any difference. I do not recall that they ever experiences any anti-Semitism in school. New Year’s Eve was the common and much loved family holiday in those times. Of course, we celebrated everybody’s birthday in the family -- with holiday pie and nice gifts.

Robert finished Navy School and sailed on ships as electrician. He was married to a Jew, but they had no children. Robert died of a heart attack at the age of 36, in 1982. Alexandr entered the Faculty of Sanitary Engineering at the Odessa Construction Institute. He studied 3 years there and then worked as a foreman at a construction site. He got married to a Jew also, but he divorced his wife and emigrated to the US in 1989. He lives in Los Angeles and works in the service sector. He calls us from time to time but we have not seen each other since he left.

In 1952 during the period of the Doctors’ Plot 17 I didn’t believe the official propaganda any longer. I had become disillusioned back when I saw the struggle against the cosmopolites in my own institute. I don’t think many people believed Stalin during that period. Persecutions didn’t touch our family – there were no doctors, but this was an anti-Semitic campaign that made establishment of the Jewish state in 1948 even more important. During the war I was aware of the anti-Semitic attitude towards the Jews both within the USSR and in other countries. So, when the country that defeated fascism declared anti-Semitism as its state policy it was like a blow for me. Israel is like the promised land for me. This is the land of Jews. I am an atheist and I wasn’t raised religious, but I’ve read the Bible. During the Soviet period I took an interest in the history of Judaism since I wished I could understand where the roots of anti-Semitism grew from. I took Stalin’s death in 1953 easy. I don’t wish evil to anyone, but here I was glad that he died. All I was concerned about was what was going to happen next. But I was fully engaged in my professional activities and had nothing to do with politics.

In the summer of 1953 I returned to Odessa and got a job at Giprograd [State Institute of Town Planning]. I was an architect and then chief project architect. On 17 August 2003 it will be 50th anniversary of my work at this organization. Forty five years I was Chief architect of the project. I’ve designed many buildings in Odessa. I worked at the department of industrial planning for ten years. I designed hydrolysis factories in Belgorod-Dnestrovsk, Svaliava [Zakarpathiye region], Zaporozhiye, tyre repair plant in Odessa. I also designed residential buildings. I worked with nice intellectual people. There were a number of Jews among us but there was no ‘Jewish question’, we valued each other for their professional qualities. Somewhere in 1960 I took part in development of design for a school building in Illichevsk. [Illichevsk is a port on the Black Sea in 25 km from Odessa, which became a town in 1973.] This school was a beginning of my career as chief of general development of Illichevsk. A town with about 70 thousand inhabitants was built within 40 years. It’s a beautiful modern town with schools, shops and gyms. I developed a design for the Palace of Sports. I like Illichevsk a lot. When I travel there I gain energy for the rest of the year. 

In 1969 my mother died in pain. Her asthma was getting worse and my mother was afraid that with age it would become even worse. We kept an oxygen pillow at home. My father watched my mother very closely. Once my father went to the pharmacy and wasn’t home for 20 minutes. When he returned my mother had a dark blue color and was on the floor trying to reach to the oxygen pillow. She died and we buried her at the Jewish cemetery in Slobodka. My father didn’t remarry, although there were candidates to become his wife. He kept saying ‘I loved my wife’. He cooked for himself and went to the town beach in Langeron every day. He lived in my family in his last years and died in 1983. He was buried at the Jewish cemetery beside my mother’s grave.

My wife Musia died on 12 January 1992. In 1996 I married Lidia Musatova. I met her during a cruise on the Volga River in 1980s. She visited us in Odessa several times. Lidia lectured on the Russian literature at the pedagogical Institute in Nikolaev. When Musia died she supported and helped me. Then it took me 3 years to convince her to get married. We lived together seven happy years. She died of cancer six months ago.

In 2000 the director of Giprograd called me for a meeting with the representatives of the association of the former inmates of concentration camps and the ghettos of the Odessa region. He was not Jewish but he knew that I was and realized that the subject was a concern to me. They offered me to take part in a very interesting project: the development of the design for a memorial complex dedicated to the Jews who perished in Odessa in the course of its history: the victims of pogroms and the victims of the Holocaust. It was to be installed in the former place of the 2nd Jewish cemetery, which was removed back in the 1960s. I gave my consent and began to work. There already was a memorial to victims of 1905 pogroms at the cemetery when about 400 Jews perished: women, elderly people and children. 14 granite slabs were on this common grave. There were names of over thirty people on each slab. There are missing names as well.  When the cemetery was to be removed the town architect inscribed numbers on these slabs and they were transported to Jewish cemetery in Slobodka. They are still there – many of them were stolen or decayed, but there are quite a few left. I did my land survey and did some additional work about granite. The memorial based on my projects shall be erected in its place. Minkus, a well-known architect from Odessa, developed a project for this memorial and I took part in the development. We followed the design of Minkus for two portals and the temple wall and my design was based on an old photograph. During the Great Patriotic War about two hundred thousand Jews perished in Odessa and Odessa region. The second memorial of the Memorial Complex shall be dedicated to the victims of Holocaust. There will be the monument called ‘The Righteous Woman Among the Nations’ holding a Jewish baby in the kippah. [The Righteous Among the Nations were the non-Jews who rescued Jews during the Holocaust.] I spend all my time doing this very interesting work. Public Jewish organizations and mayor’s office provide all necessary assistance to us. My work with the Jewish Memorial is very important for the Jewish community in Odessa.

Glossary

Albert Arditi
Istanbul
Turkey
Interviewer:  Feride Petilon
Date of Interview: May 2005

I am honored to have met with Albert Arditi, an architect who spent most of his life in the Kadikoy district. I had the chance to get together with a man who is always so witty as to say “Not you again?” when he sees me, so honest as to wholeheartedly convey to me his religious and political perspectives, and so knowledgeable and honest as to narrate to me what his life has been all about. Albert Arditi has a true passion for nature, and as such, owns a house with a great view of the sea. What he loves most is to have a cup of coffee in front of that view, sitting across the seat from his wife. His wife is a woman who deeply cares for Jewish traditions. She always offers me some of the wonderful delights she cooks for Shabbat [Sabbath]. It seemed to me that every corner of Mr. Arditi’s house was filled with pictures of his children and grandchildren. In addition, many of their friends’ gifts were placed in their cupboard. Mr. Arditi is very proud of talking about his life because its pages are clean. On each encounter of ours, he tells me a different story, and then gives me his perspectives on that story. Sharing these with you is truly a pleasure for me... The Nina-Albert Arditi couple and I have become very close over time. “We still have so much to tell you; come back and see us again sometime.” they say to me when it is time for me to leave – “You enliven our life.”

Family background

Growing Up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

Family Background

My paternal grandfather’s name was Avram Arditi. I do not know his date of birth, but I believe he must have been born around the 1800s in Balat [it is a county in Istanbul situated around the Golden Horn shore. This county had a significant Jewish population, and as such, many synagogues. In time, most of the Jews there ended up moving to the area around the Galata Tower] because he died around the 1900s. I do not have any information on his educational and military background or what he did for a living. All I know is that he was an only child.

My father’s mother, Viktorya Arditi [birth date unknown] was also born in Balat. She passed away in 1908. She went to a district school [this term does not represent an Alliance school in the district, but it rather stands for a school where children living in the district went to]. She was a house-wife, and she unfortunately passed away at a very young age.

Back then, the causes of death were not investigated much. The general belief among people was that some bug bites caused diseases such as measles, which was deadly. The use of antibiotics in response to infections was not common. As such, many would say “tuvo una kayntura i se muryo” [Ladino for “he/she caught a fever and died”]. Sometimes, death would be attributed to epidemic diseases such as tuberculosis, typhoid and cholera. In the end though, even the closest relatives of a deceased person would not always know why he/she had died.

My father became an orphan at a very young age…

My mother’s father, Aron Saranga, was born in Edirne [a city in the Thrace region], in Gumulcine [a village near Edirne]. The family moved to Edirne after the Bulgarians had captured Gumulcine during the Balkan Wars. Aron Saranga’s sister, “La Tia Sihula” [Ladino for “aunt Sihula”] remained in Gumulcine because of her husband. She died there… [Back then, the Balkan Peninsula and Thrace were part of the Ottoman Empire. After the Balkan Wars, Edirne became part of Turkish soil, and Gumulcine became part of Greece’s. As a result, the family was dispersed into the soils of two different countries] 1 2

I met La Tia Sihula only once in my life. I was young, but I was very impressed. I was around 6 or 7, and she was 60 years old. She had come over to our house to visit. I remember her playing the lute, and singing to us songs of Rumelia. She had a very nice voice. I specifically remember this song “Alisimin Gozleri Kari.” She had said “kari,” using the Rumelia tongue, but she had meant to say “kara,” which means black. She had black hair. She was an unforgettable woman… [‘Tia’ stands for ‘aunt’ in Ladino. It can also be used to denote the elder female persons in a family. ‘Onkli’ carries the same meaning for the males (uncle), and is used to denote the respected, elderly men in a family]

Aron Saranga subsequently moved from Edirne to Istanbul. He moved to Ortakoy [a district on the European coast of the Bosphorus]. He started out as a livestock dealer [someone who buys and sells livestock]. After he ran into some financial difficulties, he began earning his living as a butcher. He was a tense and irritable man, but he was also a very honest man, who always stood by his word. He apparently had an argument once with the chief rabbi at the time (I do not remember the rabbi’s name). Since kosher meat was taxed at very high rates, and was therefore very difficult for the poor to afford, they were forced to eat regular, non-kosher meat. The Jews who deeply cared for the tradition, and wanted to eat kosher meat, had a difficult time in doing so. Hoping to make a difference, Aron Saranga had a heated argument with the chief rabbi. Many, including some members of his family, thought he disrespected the chief rabbi by bringing this issue up. His argument did not yield any positive results.

Mr. Saranga had four siblings. His brother, Dr. Ruben Saranga had attended the military academy, and was a respected man in Edirne. His sister, La Tia Dudu was married to El Tio Isak Eskenazi, and they lived in Ortakoy. El Tio Isak was an insurance underwriter as part of the Sark Insurance Company, and a volunteer rabbi at the Yenimahalle County within Ortakoy. He did not receive any financial remuneration for his work as a rabbi. The couple had lost a daughter at a very young age. The cause of death in this instance was also unknown. It is possible that it was because of an epidemic disease. Their daughter was around 16-17 years of age, and was engaged to a doctor. Her sudden death shook her entire family. She was the couple’s only child. She apparently was a very beautiful girl. I remember that we mourned for days; everyone sat on the floor… [old tradition of mourning during the 7 days following the burial of a parent, or first degree relative].

As for his other siblings, there was an Ester Saranga, who was married to a Behar. His other sister, La Tia Sihula, lived in Gumulcine. I do not know who she married.

Dr. Saranga and his wife’s marriage account is very interesting. Dr. Saranga had studied at the military academy. During the war, he was appointed major, and was stationed at Necef [a village in Anatolia]. There were not many educated people at Necef at the time. This allowed him to become both the village’s governor and notary public. Because of this military appointment, he had to leave his 17-year old fiancée, Ester Saranga, back in Edirne. At that time, La Tia Dudu was already married to El Tio Isak. Dr. Saranga asked El Tio Isak to come to Necef, and asked him to do something for him. He gave Isak power of attorney, requested him to take the letter of attorney back to Edirne, and complete all the necessary steps so that Dr. Saranga could officially be married to the woman he loved. Isak did as he was told, and completed all requirements so that Dr. Saranga and Ester could be declared husband and wife. He took Ester back to Necef, and delivered her to Dr. Saranga. He even had to sign a document stating that he delivered Ester to Necef – safe and sound, and took the document back to Edirne with him for the chief rabbi’s confirmation. After the War, Ester and Ruben Saranga moved back to Edirne. They then had two children named Sonya and Leon.

Aron Saranga died at a young age. He had a livestock trading business. My maternal grandmother had become a widower when my mother was only 12. He might have died because of a heart attack; he was a tense, edgy man. He spoke Judeo-Espanyol. He was not too religious, but he did practice Shabbat [Shabbat]. He passed away in 1916.

My maternal grandmother’s name was Suzan Sultana Saranga. I do not know her maiden name. She was born in Kurucesme [a district in Istanbul, near the Bosphorus], and lived in Ortakoy. She knew the Rashi alphabet (Back then, this language was taught by rabbis) 3. She knew tatting. She was a brunette, and she always preferred darker clothing because she was in mourning. My grandmother was a calm woman; she did not raise her voice too much. She was a calm person. She did not directly manage the housework or cooking in the house, but she had overall supervision.

Whenever I think about my grandmother’s house, I cannot help but remember the days I was sick… I was in seventh grade, and my parents and I were invited to a wedding. On our way there, I became feverish and my temperature became unmanageable, so my parents took me to my grandmother’s house in Ortakoy. It was a two-storey, wooden building. They prepared a bed for me on the ground floor so I could rest. I was confined to bed there for a long time because of typhoid. I had a very high temperature.

My grandmother’s house was one that had constant running water, electricity and a coal furnace. She did not have attendants, cooks or maids, who helped her with housework. There was a laundry woman though, and she was Jewish.

I was sick during my entire stay there, so I do not have very detailed memories about my grandmother’s house. Despite this, I do remember that Jewish holidays were celebrated as family meetings. My grandmother had wonderful relations with her neighbors. Both Muslim and Jewish neighbors there got along perfectly well. When I was sick, I remember that they all came by to check on my health, and brought food. There was a doctor named Dr. Aser. He was the most famous doctor in the Ortakoy area. In reality, he was a gynecologist, but it seemed that he could heal all kinds of diseases – no matter what the patient was suffering from [Ortakoy is a district in Istanbul, situated along the Bosphorus. It is an area in which all three religions intersect. The Etz Ha Hayim Synagogue, Ortaköy Mosque and the Ortakoy Church are all within the same area. The proximity of these places of worship for different religions also manifests itself in districts such as Balat, Kuzguncuk, etc… As a result, the solidarity among the Jews, Muslims and Christians is quite strong].

My father’s name was Nesim Bensiyon Arditi. He became an orphan at a very young age. It is interesting; back then, his mother’s other children got sick after birth and passed away, or she miscarried. No one really knew why this happened. In those years, no one sought to investigate the cause. When my father was born, they named him Nesim (‘Nes’ in Hebrew), which stands for ‘miracle.’

A tradition that follows a similar situation was called Marko Merkada. Whenever a child recovered from a very serious illness, he was symbolically sold to another family. In this way, the child became ‘sold’ or ‘merkada.’ It was thought that this symbolic process would change the child’s destiny. Yet another tradition was name altering (called ‘mesallayim’ in old Hebrew). According to this tradition, if a person survived an epidemic disease that would normally result in death, that person’s name was changed in the hopes that his destiny also would. The person was usually given a new name from the Torah.

Nesim Arditi was born in Balat in 1898. He lived in Ortakoy for a while, and then he moved to the Kadikoy area. He studied at an Alliance School 4. Since he was an orphan, his aunts took care of him, and supported his educational and other needs. He did not want to be too much of a burden to them, so he joined the military by misrepresenting his age.

He served in the military for a long time. First, he actively took part in an operation to free the Suez Canal from English occupation. This was in 1915. Sometimes by walking barefoot in the cold and sometimes using the rail, his platoon arrived at the Syrian border. Passing Jerusalem, the men arrived at the Suez Canal. Cemal Pasa was the commander of the Turkish army. My father was a corporal at the time. The Turkish military lost the fight, and was forced to surrender. This was a very difficult time for all the men as living conditions were very poor, and the lack of proper clothing and adequate food only made the situation harder. The Arabs had rebelled against the Ottoman Empire.

While the army was going to Sivas [a city in Anatolia] though Aleppo, my father froze from the dead-cold in Kangal [a town near Sivas. The name was later given to a breed of dog]. His corporal just left him there to die. One of the villagers pitied him and said to my father “Look, you are at a deadlock and you have only one option to survive. We will bury you in a pile of fertilizer. Otherwise, your legs will become gangrenous and you will die. With the fertilizer method, the freezing will slowly disappear, but there is a risk. Your veins can burst. The choice is yours.” Deciding that each option was as dangerous and deadly as the other one, my father had no choice but to accept the villager’s offer. His legs healed in time, and he went on the road again. This time, he caught measles, and then typhoid. When he finally arrived in Istanbul, he was very tired and beaten.

When the war was over in 1922, his military unit dissolved. Later on, during the 1940s, he was called on to serve in the 20 military classes. 5 In this respect, I can say that my father took active duty in both World Wars.

My father was a respected man. He was not very talkative. He always dressed in suits, and Bossalino hats [an Italian trademark hat company]. Whenever he traveled abroad, he always brought back these hats as presents for his friends and relatives. My dad owned a store called the Kooperatif. Before he become the owner, he had worked there as a regular employee for a long time. The store was in Moda; a modern county back then on the Asian side of Istanbul in which many residents spoke both English and French. My father was considered one of the good, successful workers there because he spoke French [this store was one of the oldest within the Kadikoy area. It was located across from the Armenian Church, and was founded in 1892 by a number of Englishmen. Its ownership was transferred later on]. The store was owned by Englishmen prior to 1924. It provided customers with a variety of products ranging from everyday needs to souvenirs. In 1924, a number of new laws were established by Ataturk 6 in order to protect domestic investment, and so it was no longer possible for the English to own the store. They summoned my father, told him he was an honest man and asked him to take over the ownership in return for a small pay-out fee. They also told him not to damage the reputation of their brand and their store. My father accepted these terms, and took over the ownership of the store with a number of Greek-Turk associates.

Back then, Moda County was home to a number of elite Levantine and English families. 7 As such, the stores had to provide luxury goods. The goods sold in this area were of the highest quality. When Inonu 8 became the President of the Turkish Republic, for example, he once visited his sister in Moda, and had the opportunity to taste some cheese from our store. He liked it so much that he wanted to find out where he could find more of this cheese. From that point on, kilos of cheese began to be transported to Cankaya [the name of the presidential palace where Presidents of the Turkish Republic reside throughout their term] by rail. Being the son of the store’s owner, my father began giving me the responsibility - since I was 16 - of managing all food preparation for the parties we attended.

My mother Fortune Saranga was a serious and trustworthy woman. She managed our home affairs, and was our family’s permanent counsel. She was the first person whose advice everyone in the family requested. Not only did she observe events with an objective perspective, but she also had the ability to reconcile people’s differences with her compromising tone. She could always get others to do what she wanted, and she was the one who got the family together.

During holiday celebrations, we had many visitors in our house. My mother was a very elegant woman; she went grocery shopping in elegant shoes and clothing. She had her clothes tailor-made. These tailors generally happened to be non-Muslims. My mother had her hair cut when she was a teenager, but after a certain age, I never remember her with short hair. She would always wear her hair in a bun.

She had a beautiful collection of jewelry. Back then, Russian merchants sold Russian-style jewelry, and my father bought these for my mother. She later on gave her jewelry to my sister as a gift.

My mother went grocery shopping every morning, because my father ate lunch at home. Lunch was considered the most important meal in our family. My mother had a very good eye for meat and poultry because of her father; who had owned a butcher shop. I remember going to the butcher’s with my mother once to buy some meat. The butcher placed a piece of meat on the counter, but immediately rescinded after seeing the look on my mother’s face.

My mother was a helper, but she did this confidentially. I remember going to a government office once after she died. One of the ladies who worked there asked me if I knew my mother. I responded “Of course, I do.” But, she said “Not only you, but people like us who received so much support from her know your mother too, and we will always remember her.” I never found out what kind of support my mother had provided to this lady.

Although she had a tranquil-natured personality, my mother was still a ‘Saranga.’ Like every Saranga, she occasionally flared up in anger. But, she never yelled at her children. In any case, my sister, Viki, was the mascot or the princess of our house.

My mother usually directed her anger at my father because he did not always take the best care of his health. The religious holidays were also a problematic subject between them. Since my mother was the elder of her family, she usually invited everyone else over. However, she would drive herself to exhaustion during the first night of the Holidays because she did not have support staff that helped her with grocery shopping or cooking. We would always tell her that we did not want this much food and in this variety, and that all we wanted was to see her at the dinner table on the first night of the celebrations. She would not understand though. Holidays meant food, and that equaled my mother being sick – and, of course, crowded dinner tables. Her tapadas were the best [this is a dish from Edirne, its cooking instructions are provided at the end].

My mother had five siblings. Yuda Leon Saranga immigrated to the United States in 1912, when he was 14. He started working in a factory there. He later became a trade-union chief, and married his wife Suzan. They had a son named Aron. In 1953, Yuda Leon Saranga and his family came back to Istanbul by ship. His wife was originally from Canakkale. [the Dardanelles] On the night the ship passed through the Bosphorus, they did not sleep all night long because they were so excited to see the city of their ancestors even if it was from a distance.

When my grandmother Sultana Suzan Saranga saw her son after all this time, she raised her hands towards the sky and cried “Atyo Santo” [Ladino exclamation for “my dear God”]. It must have been extremely unnerving and exciting for her to see her son at 40 years of age because he was only 14 when he left the country.

The ship they traveled on was an Italian vessel. Yuda did not eat much at the beginning of the journey because he thought there might be pork in the food served on the ship. Later on, he became very close to the entire crew, and had them cook him a nice, hearty dish of pasta. When the journey ended, he and the chief police officer left the ship arm in arm.

My mother’s sister, Sara Saranga, later changed her last name to ‘Kohen.’ She gave birth to two children named Besim and Erol. Both of them are living in Israel today. For the longest time, they operated a toy business. Erol’s wife’s name is Teri Adut, and Besim’s is Zizi.

Her other brother, Salamon Saranga married Simbul Mizrahi, and they lived in Balat for a long time. They never had children. Beki Saranga married Izak Argun. They had two children named Rozi and Albert. Rozi is living in Israel today, and Albert is in Istanbul. 

How my parents first met could be considered romantic. My father had a walking stick; it was fashionable to use one then. Kooperatif had a franchise store on the European coast of Istanbul, where my father worked for a while. He used to take the tram to get to and from work, and would frequently see my mother in the tram. One day, soon after my mother got off the tram, he dropped his walking stick right in front of her, and that is how they first met.

In those years, the general convention in the society stipulated that dating was a serious matter, and others expected relationships to result in marriage after a short dating period. My mother’s father had already passed away. My father, also a kid at the time, had lost both of his parents. La Tia Dudu (Aron Saranga’s sister), who was taking care of my father at the time, was knowledgeable in matters of love and marriage. She asked him “Are you going to marry her?” “Yes, I will” my father replied. Not long after that, my parents got married at the Ortakoy Synagogue. Ortakoy was a very small district, where everyone knew each other, and so it was relatively easier to arrange for these things.

Fortune and Nesim Arditi preferred to live on the Asian coast. I, Albert Arditi, was born in Kadikoy, Yeldegirmeni in 1923 [Kadikoy is a district on the European coast. Yeldegirmeni is a county, whose gardens are full of ivy roses. The area also overlooks the Haydarpasa Bay, and contains many of the old windmills. As such, it is affected both by northeast and southwest winds].

The Kehribarci, Valpreda and Menase apartments built in Yeldegirmeni were generally occupied by Jewish residents. Overall though, I can say that there were an equal number of Turks and Jews living in Yeldegirmeni. There were not a lot of Armenians and Greeks. The pharmacist, tinsmith, fisherman and the glazier were Jewish. There were two butchers in the area that provided kosher meat. These were Bensal and Niyego butcheries. The pharmacies in Yeldegirmeni were also different. One could easily find ready-to-go medicines over the counters within the pharmacies, but made-to-order medicines were sold more frequently. Pharmacology, of course, was an important element of pharmacies, but so was psychology.

In summer time, children played in the streets, and women knitted and embroidered crochets.

Growing Up

When I was born, the street we lived on was called Piyasa Street. Later, when the famous Turkish writer Recaizade Ekrem passed away, the street was renamed after him. In Yeldegirmeni, there was a ‘Kucuk Paris’ (Small Paris) neighborhood, which was parallel to the railway that began at the ‘Ibrahimaga’ neighborhood. The fire of 1922 that erupted in Haydarpasa destroyed more than 400 homes. As a result, about 1000 families became homeless overnight. No synagogues or schools got caught in the fire, but the Jewish families did get their share of this disaster. By the 1980s, there were not a lot of Jewish families left in Yeldegirmeni.

When I think about our house in my younger days, I remember a wooden, three-story house – just like the house I live in today. In those years, my father had just bought the Kooperatif store, and so, most of the money he made provided for paying his debt. Therefore, we did not live in luxury – even though we had everything.

The houses in Yeldegirmeni at the time were similar to the townhouses today (there were no gardens or a family space in between houses). Because of this, my friends and I spent time in the streets, playing. Our toys and games were not luxurious, but we did have a lot of fun. We played marble games and leapfrog [The marble games consisted of the arranging of the marbles next to each other. The player tries to hit all the marbles with the one marble he has in hand, and the person who is able to hit the most marbles, wins the game and takes the marbles he won with him. So, when other children return home, they ask their parents for money so they can buy new marbles for next day’s game. These marbles had different names according to their shapes and colors. The models that had uncommon shapes and colors were in more demand, so they were more expensive. The children even exchanged their marbles] [Leapfrog is a game in which children try to jump over each other when the other person is slightly bended]. We did not have bicycles. The streets had paving stones. We were happy.

In 1926, my brother Henri Arditi was born. By disposition, Henri was a lot funnier than I was – full of jokes. He was a happy child and everyone loved him. When he finished middle school, he went to Palestina [today’s Israel before the republic was founded]. He began living in a kibbutz there, but I do not remember its name. He had good relations with everyone there. Unfortunately, he got injured there and stayed at the hospital for a while. Apparently, while playing with a donkey, the donkey hit Henri hard over his heart. Later on, he returned to Turkey and did not go back to Israel for a long time. When he returned, he immediately began working with our father. He married Lizet Haver. They had two children together, Bensiyon and Eli.

Henri passed away in Istanbul in 1987. Lizet remarried, but her second husband also passed away shortly afterwards. She was very different in character compared to my wife. For my wife, her home, husband and children are very important. If need be, she would not eat but ensure that we did – in the truest sense of the word. She had different perspectives on life in comparison to Lizet’s. They never really became close friends. But, family is family, so we try to see each other during the holidays because we believe that there should not be resentment among family members. For me, Henri had always been a lot more compromising and understanding. He always put helping family members first. He would wake up in the middle of the night, and prepare food for his babies. In the years that he worked for the Kooperatif, everyone was fond of him. Back then, Kooperatif was the shopping address for the elite families of Istanbul because it sold a lot of luxury items.

Bensiyon (Henri’s son) got married in the United States to a lady named Suzan. They had three children together. They later got divorced because of irreconcilable differences. When they got divorced though, Suzan was pregnant with their third child. Bensiyon later got married to a Christian lady. Eli, Henri’s other son, got married to a lady named Luna. They had three children named Aron, Esli and Alison.

Henri Arditi was a graduate of middle school, so he continued the family business at the Kooperatif store.

In 1932, my sister Viktorya was born. Viki (short for Viktorya) went to the St. Benoit Lycee [a high school in Istanbul founded and supported by the French]. Viki was considered the princess of our family. She was under the constant protection of my mother, and no one could touch her or say anything negative about her. Viki got married to one of Henri’s friends, Isak Levi. Isak Levi was also a well-liked, respected man in his community. Even though he joined our family later on as a ‘groom,’ his opinions and perspectives were considered to be important in our family. Viki and Isak immigrated to Israel in 1942. When Viki left for Israel, she took my mother’s sewing machine with her as a souvenir. The couple had two children named Lea and Hayim. Lea ended up getting married to Rafi Azuz, a man from Bursa [a city in the Marmara Region, Turkey].

Before I continue with the biography, I would like to share with you my views on the common names of my time. There have always been popular names such as Viktorya, Albert, Ojeni, etc… Whenever a name becomes popular, it is fashionable to give children these names in every family. This is because these popular names go all the way back to King Albert and his wife Viktorya as well as Queen Ojeni, the wife of the Napoleon III, and their visits to the Turkish soil. Queen Ojeni, for example, visited the Ottoman Empire during the reign of Sultan Aziz. By giving these names to their children, families believed that the children might acquire noble characteristics.

During my childhood years, Yeldegirmeni was a neighborhood that housed about twenty thousand Jews. When I think about these years, one of the first memories that come to my mind is that my mother went grocery shopping everyday. Every Friday, Leon the fishermen would stop by and tell my mom “This goby is just the right one for you,” referring to the fish he was holding in his hand. Once, the goby was so fresh that it actually jumped out of Leon’s hands! [Eating fish Friday evenings is an important tradition among the Jewish families of Turkey. Goby is generally the most consumed. It is cooked with plums; a recipe can be found at the end].

Going to the Turkish baths in our neighborhood was something else… I first went to one of these baths with all the women. It was one of those classic Turkish baths… It had a marble basin and a heated marble platform. The attendants in the baths would wash the women. The most important tradition about these baths was that they provided a place for single women to be displayed for possible arranged marriages. Whenever a single woman was ready for marriage, before her family began looking at potential grooms, she would be taken to these baths. In this way, others would be able to observe the woman in a very detailed manner in order to see whether she had any physical deformities. And of course, everyone in the baths would enjoy various delights of food (dolma, meatballs, quiches (borekitas) etc… while this ‘display’ was underway.

I remember always having support staff around the house. We refer to them as ‘femme de menage’ [French for “cleaning lady”] today. In those days, we viewed them as an integral part of our house. They would help my mother in cooking, cleaning and laundry. I specifically remember one of them, Nivart, whose husband had gone to fight the war. She had no place to stay, so my mother took her in. She ended up staying at our house until the war ended. We called her ‘tantika’ [Ladino for “aunt”]. After her husband came back, she still continued to come around the house to help my mother. She was scared that her husband would irresponsibly spend the money she made, so she would give all her earnings to my mother. My mother would watch over her money until she needed it. Her children got into good schools later on, and made something of themselves. Tantika occasionally came to visit us.

I cannot say there was a lot of anti-Semitism in our neighborhood. We all grew up together, like brothers and sisters, regardless of religion. In some cases, children from outside our neighborhood would come to ours to pick a fight – mostly with the Jewish children - but they would generally return disappointed. According to them, we were this neighborhood’s Jews. In this respect, we were part of our neighborhood, and we could not be touched by others. If kids from other neighborhoods ever made a pass to our girlfriends, we would strike back, hard. I think there was a stronger sense of solidarity among everyone back then. For example, the village headman for Yeldegirmeni was a Jew named Haribi Nesim. My point is that back then even Jews could govern neighborhoods, towns, etc…

I went to a school named Ecole Communale [this was an Alliance School. The school board and the Jewish community of Haydarpasa considered it an important responsibility to ensure that the school did as well as it possibly could, and so they put considerable time and funding into it. The Haydarpasa Community Student Teacher Regulations are provided at the end]. We considered Mme. Matalon and Mlle. Duba some of our most important teachers.

One of the most important memories in a man’s life is his bar-mitzvah. My father was not a religious man, but he knew both the Jewish religion and its traditions well, and added to them his own perspectives. We did not study the Torah in its entirety either, but we did read some of its prayers. My becoming a man at age 13 - my bar-mitzvah - was celebrated in a fairly traditional manner. People did not engage in exaggerations, or elegance races back then like we do in bar-mitzvah celebrations today. The only thing that did not change about the celebrations today is the bar-mitzvah speeches.

My father had taken me to the synagogue, and requested the help of our respected rabbis so that I could gain some religious insight into the process. The rabbi who tutored me told me that he would be the one to prepare my speech, but that I would address it to all my guests during the big night. At that point, my rebellious character came onto the scene. I told him “I want to be the one to prepare my own speech.” I figured “if the rabbi prepares the speech, then he should be the one to give it on the night of my bar-mitzvah because they will consist of his own thoughts. I can only promise to do what I can do.”  My parents did not let me. On top of this, one of my father’s friends gave him some very elegant piece of English made fabric so that I could use it for my suit. My father asked me to thank him, but I refused. I told him “You thank him. This present does no good for me, it was given to you.” My mother prepared a wonderful selection of recipes for the day of the ceremony (tefilim). She used the best products from the Kooperatif. My father got drunk, and as always, the entire family had a chance to get together.

I wanted to attend the St. Jozef Lycee [French Catholic school] after elementary school. In other words, my parents wanted me to attend St. Jozef because the brother of one his Greek business partners was a bishop at the school, and so could provide us with a significant discount in school tuition. The catch was that I had to take an exam and pass with a successful grade. I began taking private lessons from Mr. Kohen. For some reason, I was not successful in my efforts to convince my parents that my Math and French were sufficient. After a couple of tutoring sessions, I took the responsibility upon myself, and discontinued the lessons. I was quite successful in the exam. Based on my marks, I was given the opportunity to directly begin the sixth grade – without going through the preparatory year for middle school. When I got to the eighth grade, the school board wanted me to restart the seventh grade because they feared a government inspection during which officials could discover I was too young to be in eighth grade. They were not successful in their efforts though.

When I think about my time at St. Jozef, one of the first things that comes to my mind is the passing away of Ataturk. Everyone knew that he was very sick. I remember staring at the flags in the school with everyone. If one of the flags was ever hauled down, we would know that he had passed. The time came. We were all in the school yard. Our principal announced “Ataturk has passed away.” Everyone began staring at each other. I remember our English teacher asking us to all go back to our classrooms. He said “Please take out your books and notebooks, and continue to study. This is what Ataturk would have wanted from you.” I remember going to the Dolmabahce Palace. The Palace was extremely crowded. People were crying, moaning and staring with a bank expression on their faces. Our house had a view of the sea; I remember watching the people carrying Ataturk’s coffin. They carried the coffin by sea, and passed through Izmit on their way to Ankara. Ships from several different nationalities followed the one which was carrying his coffin. On the landside, people were walking in the streets in the hopes of glancing at the great man’s coffin one last time.

During the War

I graduated from St. Jozef with the highest honors (Prix d’honneur). In the 1940s, the government required Math teachers to attend the military, so our French teacher began to teach us Math. He was given two books. One contained the questions, and the other, called ‘livre de maitre,’ contained the answers to those questions. He would ask us a question, and give us a grade by comparing the student’s answer to the answer key. I remember what happened when it was my turn to answer a question. I solved the problem, and found the correct answer, but my solution did not follow what was in the answer key. Our teacher first did not know what to do, but he ended up giving me the full points for the question.

I also have fond memories about my Literature classes. We studied Divan Literature [there is an important movement within the Turkish Literature called the Divan Literature. The Sultan and other respected, elite persons in the Ottoman Empire placed significant importance on this type of literature, which was influenced by Arabic and Farsi. It is written using constant lines of poetry and form]. At the same time, I started learning Hebrew. When I received an extremely good grade from one of our Divan Literature exams (the language of the Divan Literature and Hebrew were very similar), my teacher was surprised. He summoned me to his office, and asked “How come even the best students in your class did not receive a grade close to what you received? How did you do this?” I told him that I was also learning Hebrew, and he was convinced. He gave me the highest grade that had ever been awarded to a student till that point.

When I was a senior in high school, World War II erupted. It was from that point on that I started observing signs of anti-Semitism…

Back then, every senior had to take a ‘graduation exam’ [this exam was one that every student had to pass right after graduation from the high school. It was not administered by the school, but rather by the government. Even if a student graduated successfully from his/her high school, it was not possible to be considered a high school graduate without passing this exam]. This exam covered subjects such as Turkish, Mathematics, Science and Philosophy. I liked all of those subjects.

My Philosophy teacher had graduated from Sorbonne University. I remember that I was taking a Philosophy exam once; all of my friends had cheated from me. Realizing this, my Philosophy teacher had failed me…

Anyway, back to the exam… Every student also had to take what was called the university exams after graduation in order to be able to attend a university. Students who failed this exam had to enlist in the military. I wanted to attend ITU [Istanbul Technical University- it is the best engineering school in the country].  ITU accepted its students after only one test, but only the elite or really successful students, who came first, second or third in their class, generally made the cut. Because of the graduation exam, I forgot about ITU and began studying for this test. I received 8 out of 10, and finally graduated from high school.

As for the ITU exam, I was not sufficiently prepared, but I did take the test anyway. During the exam, I began to doze off. A person, whom I found out later to be a professor, told me “Do what you can, we will see what happens after the test.” What he told me made me realize the seriousness of the situation. I began answering the questions with all my power. The result was not too positive. I could not get into ITU, so I began attending another technical university that was recently founded.

One day, I read in the newspaper that ITU was currently accepting students that were previously waitlisted. And, my name was on that list. My mother wanted me to become a doctor because there were many doctors in our family, but I knew I wanted to be an engineer. Mathematics came easily to me… I was very happy while studying engineering, and I have always liked what I did for a living.
  
I had the opportunity to form wonderful friendships at ITU. Suleyman Demirel 9 and Necmettin Erbakan 10 were both my classmates there. An important feature of the educational program in those years was that our faculty contained both Architecture and Civil Engineering students. Today, both fields are distinct, but back then, we had the opportunity to graduate with two different degrees, as stated on our diplomas.

Students attending universities also had to take a mandatory course pertaining to the military. The Architecture and Civil Engineering faculty took this class together with the faculties of Literature and Fine Arts in an amphitheatre. An army officer taught this class. When I was a sophomore in college, the officer in question began teaching us the Wealth Tax. 11 What I remember was that he was not teaching the subject in an objective manner, but he rather added his own subjective views. He would say “The Wealth Tax had to be implemented to save us from the non-Muslims. They nearly robbed us of all our businesses. Now we will have a chance to see what they can do without any capital.” When they heard this, all of my classmates began looking at me – wondering if and how I would respond. I remember smiling back at them in extreme sorrow because my family had personally been affected by the taxes as well. But, I believe that if there is one thing a person should not lose - no matter what - that is his honor and dignity.

After the Wealth Tax had been implemented, my father’s capital drained. My family went through very tough times. But, amongst all of those tough times, we were still able to find hope. The tradesmen, from whom my father bought wholesale goods for his store, came to the rescue, and embraced my family. They told my father “Whatever you see in our stores is yours. Take whatever you want, and you can pay us back whenever you can. This is what we have to do for you.” They encouraged my father tremendously. It was as if life had restarted for us…

I, on the other hand, decided to drop out of college. I had lost all my hope. I was thinking to myself that one works, earns, and then the government confiscates. So, he begins again, earns only to have the government confiscate everything again… I decided that I would not accept this. I stopped attending my classes, and received failing grades [in those years, students who did not receiving passing grades from a course had to take a completion exam during the subsequent semester].

I took the completion exam without having studied at all. All 10 of us entered the classroom, where the exam was taking place. The professors were going to ask each one of us a question. After the first question, I began observing my classmates. Seeing that no one was going to answer, I called out “I am ready,” and responded to the question. The professor screamed “Get out!” I did not understand. Even if I got the answer wrong, I still had two more tries. Of course, in those years, vindication was unheard of. I left the classroom, and told my friends that I did not understand what had just happened. 10 days later, our grades were posted. I had received 20 out of 20!

I went to the professor’s office to thank him for the grade, but I could not help but ask him “If you were going to give me a full mark for the question, why did you ask me to leave the classroom?” He responded “You are as lazy as they get, but you are smart, and this is why you were able to figure out the answer to the question. Not only that, but you managed to come up with a simpler explanation than the one I had provided before. No professor would want to cheat from one of his students.”

That was how I decided to continue my education. By the time I was a senior, however, anti-Semitic events at school had significantly increased. That year, all seniors had to participate in a graduation project called the diploma project. For this purpose, a German professor was brought to ITU to help the students. His name was Kohl Bonatz, and his son was an SS Officer. After the War ended, his son was arrested, and it was a matter of time before they arrested him as well. One of the professors in Turkey, Emin Onat Bey, who at the same time was the Rector of our university, thought it would be more beneficial for both parties if Mr. Bonatz was brought to Turkey to teach instead of languishing in prison. Mr. Bonatz was a very educated, knowledgeable man. I remember being extremely afraid when I first saw him. At that time, my psychological wounds from the War were still fresh. The interesting thing about those times was that - contrary to what I had expected - I did not see gentlemanly behavior from my Turkish professors. It was instead Professor Bonatz, whose demeanor towards me was decent. When I look back on the anti-Semitic experiences I went through during the diploma project, I see that the Turkish professors were the ones who exhibited those types of behaviors, not Professor Bonatz.

For the diploma project, the students were given a task to come up with a plan to build a hotel (its interior, exterior - the works…). The project was expected to be beneficial to passengers arriving to and leaving from the Yesilkoy airport. After I completed a 3-4 page paper, I presented it to my professors. They looked through everyone’s project, and separated mine from the others. One of them told me “If you would, can we please put your project up on the board so that your classmates could benefit from your insights?” I was extremely happy, but later on, I found that I had failed. The professors had failed two more students like me; one of them was Russian, and the other was a Jew living in Izmir. We all wanted to resubmit our project, but the situation was getting worse. We realized the professors were determined to fail us. Therefore, we decided to take the problem as far as the Minister of Education at the time, Hasan Ali Yucel. He was both a customer and a good friend of my father’s. After hearing us out, he had to put in a good word on behalf of us to the university professors. Only then, were we allowed to graduate.

In order to start working, I had to go back to ITU first to get a certified document stating that I had graduated from the university. I went to see the Rector for this purpose. When he saw me, he asked “Where are you going tonight?” I responded “To celebrate my graduation.” [Back then, whenever one bought something new of importance or succeeded at a difficult task, friends, family and relatives got together to celebrate. This celebration is called watering the diploma]. The rector told me I could not go to the celebrations, and I asked “Why not?” He said “You have to be in Ankara by tomorrow morning. I found you a job there. I promised people that you are going to help build the Anitkabir” [the mausoleum dedicated to Ataturk. His coffin lies there]. I asked him “Can I leave tomorrow morning instead of tonight?” He responded “I think you did not quite understand. You are starting your new job tomorrow morning.”  I could not disagree with him. I went to Ankara by train [it is the capital of Turkey. It is approximately 500 km. away from Istanbul. In those days, it took about a 12-hour train ride to get to Ankara from Istanbul]. I was on the train all night.

In Ankara, I worked both as an architect and civil engineer for the building of Anitkabir. Most of my other colleagues worked either as an architect or an engineer. Helping in the construction of Anitkabir is my proudest work of all. For the construction, I had the opportunity to work with one of my university professors such as Emin Onat. He and I worked in the area where Ataturk’s tomb resided. This area does not have a lot of decorations; it is mostly made up of soil samples taken from the 67 cities in Turkey.

Ataturk’s tomb is built towards the south in accordance with Islamic traditions. However, his mausoleum is built towards the Ankara Castle. Anitkabir has a beautiful flagpole, which was constructed by an American-Turkish gentleman. Special transportation arrangements had been made so that it could be carried from Istanbul to Ankara. I was the one who was given this wonderful opportunity to prepare and install this flagpole, which was 33 meters in height.

One of the most important amongst my later projects has been the construction of the Hirfanli Dam [this dam is one of the most important river dams built in Turkey. It is situated along the Kizilirmak River. Kizilirmak rises from Middle Anatolia, and flows into the Black Sea. It is the longest river within Turkey]. I had seen an ad in the newspaper by the George Wilton Company, which was looking for a civil engineer. I applied for the job, and was called in for an interview shortly. During the interview, they asked me what I did for a living. I responded “I am an engineer.” The company executive asked me “What does that mean?” When I said “What do you mean what does that mean?” he began counting to me all of the subgroups under engineering such as mechanical engineering, mathematical engineering, etc… He wanted to know which one I was. I told him that I could do them all.

I was accepted to work on the project for a trial period of one month. They wanted to see what I could do first. My first assignment there was to build the wooden model and maquette of a tunnel that was 9 meters in diameter. After a few prototypes, I realized that some of the calculations for the maquette were not entirely accurate. I had the prototype model remade a few days before the groundbreaking ceremony. We were able to keep our noses clean; we presented an accurately made model there. Two days after the ceremony, the executive officer gave me the keys to one of the buildings, and told me that I was officially hired as a chief construction engineer.

Since I had to relocate for my work on the dam, I took my wife and daughter with me. Those were difficult days. We were living in an area of lower socio-economic status that also lacked a strong infrastructure. The engineers’ first responsibility was to construct the dam, and then work on the implementation of a stronger, environmental infrastructure. I remember my daughter getting very sick with a high temperature. I remember being extremely worried.

Another one of my strongest memories from those days is celebrating Passover [Pesach] across from the beautiful Kizilirmak view. We prepared the Seder, and celebrated Passover with another Jewish family residing on the construction site. Mr. Danon was also an engineer for the Dam project. I was already acquainted with the Danon family back from Yeldegirmeni. The family had relocated to Zonguldak for a project before moving onto the Kizilirmak Hirfanli Dam project. Mr. Danon and his wife, Julia, had a daughter named Nora. This was a wonderful coincidence, because there were now two Nora babies residing on the construction site for the Hirfanli Dam. I learned that Mr. Danon later ran into difficulties in finding work. He even offered me to be his partner for some new work, but I did not accept. I heard they later immigrated to Israel.

Suleyman Demirel [one of the most important politicians in Turkish history. He held many political offices; the most important being the President of the Turkish Republic] and Necmeddin Erbakan [also an important politician, he held the office of Prime Minister] were my classmates from college. When Suleyman Demirel was an executive in the Water and Sanitation Ministry, he came to visit the Hirfanli construction site. When my company’s executive director introduced us, Demirel said “How are you Arditi?” He used to always say that to me when we were going to school together. The executive director was shocked. He asked me why I never told him I knew Demirel. I responded “You never asked.”

I had the opportunity to meet with Demirel on a number of different occasions after that. When he was elected President, he threw an elegant dinner party in honor of his university classmates from ITU. We all wanted to go to Ankara to congratulate him anyway. He invited us and our wives to a beautiful reception at the Presidential Palace.

Back to the Hirfanli project… I had taken my annual leave in Istanbul that year. When I returned back to Ankara, a big surprise was waiting for me. The Company had hired a new foreman [a graduate of an engineering lycee. Foremans did not have engineering degrees from universities], and I was to work under him. I told my superiors I could not do that. When I submitted them my resignation, I was told “We realize you are the one with the degree, but this is how it works around here.” In the meantime, the Turkish Executive Director of the Company had called me in and told me he gave me a raise. I told him “I did not resign because of money. If I had, you would have known.” I asked him to kindly accept my resignation, and provide me with a letter of recommendation. I unfortunately had to send the letter back once it arrived. I instead contacted the Company’s arm in London to provide me with the kind of recommendation that I was looking for. The Board of Directors there gave me a very strong letter. When I was packing my belongings, the Executive Director told me “This Company has never provided an employee with as strong a recommendation as you were given. This document will take you far anywhere you want to go in Europe.”

After the Hirfanli Dam project, we relocated back to Moda. Since we did not have a house there, we stayed at my parents’ place. My brother, his wife Lizet and their son Bensiyon were already living there as well. In some ways, the family had all come back together again. My parents owned another apartment in the same building they lived; when the lessee decided to vacate the apartment, it was the perfect opportunity for us to move in. Although my mother preferred that I live with my brother and his family that was not possible because Nina and Lizet did not get along very well. Both families also had children. I had all my belongings in storage; I had put them there before I relocated to the Hirfanli area. Moving into the new apartment made sense for us, we were still going to live in the same apartment building with my parents and my brother. We saw each other frequently, and my mother, as always continued to handle our sometimes difficult behavior.

I have very interesting memories about my term in the military. After my training, I was given a diploma that stated my graduation status as a reserve officer. It also says “very good,” referring to the degree with which I finished my term.

After the War

I was enlisted in the military in 1950 as a reserve officer. I actually was enlisted before my mandatory military attendance date. I tried to network as much as I could so that I could finish my military term as quickly as possible. I began my military duties as a naval officer first (assigned to me by lottery). There were not any ranks in the naval forces in regards to architectural engineering, so I was ordered to wear the uniform of ground forces. I worked in the construction of a building in Heybeliada that is currently used as a military school. My commanding officers really liked my work, so they asked me what I wanted in return. One of my painter friends was also in the military at the time. I asked my officers if it was possible to station my friend to my unit so that he could help me with the drawings for the construction. In this respect, I was able to facilitate the relocation of one of my friends, and have him work with me. I knew he was having a very difficult time at his previous location.

On Election Day, which resulted in a victory for the Democrats, a curfew was enacted for military officers. We could not go out on the streets, so I was sitting at the military headquarters. My commanding officer, who was residing at a nearby building close to sea level, summoned me to his quarters. I received permission to leave, and went to see him. I remember seeing a high-rank officer sitting across from my commander. My commander asked the officer to leave, so I could sit down. Rank is a very important concept in the military. To be honest, I was scared because I did not know what to expect. In the meantime, the soldiers in the streets were busy with preparation efforts for the 19 May national holiday. They were performing acrobatic dances on a large, iron construction. My commander asked me whether I thought the construction was strong. I told him that I did not think the construction was sufficiently solid, and that there was a very good chance it could cave in. I also walked him through the steps that should be taken in order to make it stronger and more durable. In this way, I was able to correct some of the construction mistakes, and prevent a possible disaster from ever happening. My observation on this matter was very well received by my commander. From that point on, I can say that I had a comfortable military term. As an engineer, I was given the responsibility to supervise the construction of a railway system.

Back then, there was an exam called the platoon exam. The exam consisted of questions for the purpose of testing what kinds of strategies an officer would implement given a particular situation. I was asked a difficult question. Hypothetically, if I had not ordered my men to withdraw, my platoon would have suffered tremendous losses. But, I was not sure if I was brave enough to say this out loud. In the end, I did, and suggested to my commanders that maybe we should consider a voluntary attempt to withdraw rather than shooting blind at the enemy. I thought that human loss could be minimized this way. I believe that by offering this scenario, I was able to cause a change of mentality in the military. I was able to emphasize the importance of a voluntary and conscious attempt to withdraw. I was rewarded by full marks on my diploma.

My wife, Nina Silton, was born in Beyoglu in 1932. She graduated from the St. Benoit Lycee. She has a brother and a sister. Her older brother, Salamon Silton was born in 1928. He and his wife, Luna Barokas, have two children named Robert and Nora, who both live in Israel. My wife’s sister, Selma Silton, was born in 1940. She has two children named Davit and Sila. She lives in Istanbul.

I met my wife at a restaurant in Yesilkoy [a county close to the Ataturk Airport. It is a luxury neighborhood known for its greenery and one-story houses] through one of my cousins. My cousin had seen my wife making home-made tomato sauce. He said it was very good tomato sauce [Back then, during the summer, people used to make lots of tomato sauce in preparation for the winter. Tomatoes were scarce during wintertime. One was considered to be a very good house-wife if she knew how to cook tomato sauce, because this was a very rough task, and one had to know the ropes if she were to prepare it well]. My cousin believed that my wife could be a very good house-wife, and so he wanted to arrange a proposition meeting between me and her [proposition stands for the arranging of a meeting between a woman and a man by a third party for the sole purpose of marriage. Back then, women and men, who had met by proposition, generally ended up marrying each other shortly after].

After my wife and I went out a couple of times, we decided to take our relationship to the next step, and began discussing our engagement. This, of course, marked the beginning of the dowry discussions between our families.

[At this point, Mr. Arditi’s wife, Nina, begins to reiterate those discussions.]
At first, our families could not find a compromise. My brother wanted to cancel the engagement. We had a summer house in Yesilkoy, and we used to go there a lot. Just as  we were leaving for Yesilkoy, Albert’s mother called. She asked my mother if she would accept the following terms for our marriage: Albert’s family would agree to the dowry, but my family would first have to agree on what was called a ‘mezafranka’ [the term is used for a son-in-law, who lives with the family of his wife after the couple gets married. The duration of the stay is predetermined before marriage takes place. During this period, the wife’s parents support the newly married couple financially. In this way, the couple gets a chance to save money. This process often became a subject of discussion during dowry talks]. Other dowry items (las kamas) such as bedding and pillow sets were to be provided by the bride’s family.

My mother accepted these terms, but she did not initially tell my father about the mezafranka and the bedding sets, etc. when he came home from work. That night, Albert and his family came over to our house.

During this entire process, nobody asked what I had thought about marrying Albert. I actually had not made a final decision yet. I was not sure. I ended up being the silent party – if you will – in all this. That week, there was a bar-mitzvah at the Haydarpasa Synagogue. My parents sent me there as Albert’s date; they thought it would be good for me to go. After all, he was ijiko cudyo es [Ladino term for “Jewish boy”]. All the guests at the bar-mitzvah thought I was Albert’s fiancé. I remember one more thing. When I used to go to the summer cottage in Yesilkoy with my family, Albert would come, visit me there. I would expect to go and meet him at the train station, but he would ride a cab. When I asked him why he did not take the train, he would say to me “I could not wait for the train. There were 10 minutes left for departure.” Albert never did like to wait for anything for too long; he has always been a quick-to-act type of person. When he visited me, he would tell me that he wanted to be the one to take me out and show me around. This, of course, flattered my pride tremendously. In short, I “me topi espozada” [Ladino term for “I found myself engaged] to Albert, and “no me demandaron” [Ladino term for “they did not ask me”] – nobody asked me anything.

In the end, my mother did tell my father about the mezafranka, and she took care of the other dowry items herself, using the money she had saved up. Our witness at the wedding was Dr. Garti, who at the time was the president of the Jewish Community and a Mathematics professor. My family is really big; we had so many relatives that we did not want to cause any trouble in the family by choosing one relative as our witness. By choosing Dr. Garti, we had the opportunity to avoid breaking anyone’s heart, and to show our respects for the man.

[Mr. Arditi narrating]
My wife and I got married on the 24th of June, 1953, at the Hemdat Israel Synagogue in Yeldegirmeni [As the name implies, the Hemdat Israel Synagogue was opened with the permission of Sultan Albulhamit. 12 It was constructed in between two parallel streets; Uzunhafız and Izzettin Streets. The Chief Rabbi’s district chief, Moshe Ha Levi, made the official announcement on the 8th of April, 1899, that the construction of the synagogue had been completed, and that inauguration events were going to take place. It is known through the synagogue’s archives that Baron Edmund de Rochild had visited the synagogue on Yom Kippur day in 1899. Rabbi Yitzhak Saki is one of the most important personas of the synagogue. Other important persons, who are closely associated with the synagogue include Haim Nahum and Hayim Moshe Becerano].

The location of the wedding (on the Asian coast) put a lot of pressure on my wife because all of her family and relatives were living within the European side. Back then, there were no bridges connecting both sides of the city. All transportation consisted of cars and car-ferries. On top of all this, my mother-in-law was deadly scared of the water. It really became a huge burden for the Silton family to attend the wedding…

We did throw a beautiful dinner party. My wife had her wedding gown made at a dressmaker in Galatasaray [a district in Istanbul, where most of the luxury stores of the time were located. It is sometimes referred to as Pera. In addition to having stores which sold European goods, the district was known for its leading fashion houses and luxury restaurants. Galatasaray was the heart of night-life back then].

Before moving to our first house in Moda, my wife and I stayed at my mother-in-law’s house in Kuledibi for about a year and a half. I had a very difficult time living with my wife’s parents. There are many reasons for this. First, my mother-in-law’s cooking was entirely different than my mother’s. The second problem was that my office was located in Moda, and traffic to and from Kuledibi was a huge problem. Waiting for the tram, checking for ferry schedules was not for me.

I came home one day, and told my wife Nina “Look inside my pockets.” She asked “What is it?” I had a rent contract in my pocket. I had rented an apartment on the third floor of a building in Moda – without asking her. The apartment was overlooking the water. I knew that this was going to be a difficult step for Nina, because she was pregnant. On top of this, it was going to be her first time living on the Asian coast.

When we first moved into our new apartment, all we were able to manage was to complete the bedroom. The living room was empty. This was because there were not many furniture stores back then, and so furniture was made-to-order. The completion and delivery would usually take about 6 months. I remember going to the Kooperatif to get ourselves groceries and other kitchen necessities. We had everything set to start living in our new apartment.

We did not have continuous running water in the apartment; only at night would we have access to water. Back then, there were a lot of loaded water lines in Moda. I remember my wife waking up in the middle of the night so that she could fill up the water cans. Our baby would wake up because of the commotion, and she would feed her. My poor wife would stay awake all night taking care of the water issue and the baby’s needs.

I myself made it a point to come home for lunch. At this point, my daughter was already born, and my wife had a difficult time juggling everything. I remember her having to go down three floors just to get some bread. She did not have anyone to help her, but she still did not complain much. My wife believed that it was very important for the babies to go outside, and get some air. She would go outside with the baby everyday for two hours - once in the morning and once in the afternoon. She would go up and down those stairs all day long.

Our bedroom was very special in that its furniture and décor was made of rose leaves. Before my wife and I got married, we had wanted to order a bedroom set, but she could not decide on a model. She was very sad; she cried. I decided that – as an architect – I would draw a prototype bedroom set myself, and see if she liked it. She did, and so I had every detail of it made with extreme care. There still is not one blemish on the furniture. The carpenter I contracted gave me a special discount for the bedroom set. He later used my prototype model to construct two more bedroom sets of similar design and quality. He was able to sell them at very high prices. In this way, I can say that I not only worked as an architect in my life, but also as a decorator – even if it was just for my family.

My wife and I had two daughters together. Fortune Tuna was born in Istanbul in 1955. She studied architecture. Some of my old classmates became her university professors. But, Tuna never used this to her advantage. One of her professors even got suspicious once, when he heard the last name Arditi, and asked her “Are you in any way related to Albert Arditi?” She responded “He is actually my father.” Her professor then said “Alright then. Take this project back to your father, and ask him to help you on it.” He rejected her project submission.

When I completed my work on the Hirfanli Dam, my wife and I were asked to relocate to the United States so that I could work on the construction of a dam there. We thought of our family and children… We did not want our children to grow up in a foreign culture, so we decided not to leave. However, later when Tuna got engaged to Viktor Filiba, she and Viktor decided to relocate to the United States, and did not even ask for our permission. They just let us know that they had made a decision. We had no choice but to go along with it.

They moved to San Diego, and Tuna began working as a volunteer there for the Jewish Community. She still works as a volunteer at a synagogue. She gives several speeches in an effort to support child education. Among some of her interesting work, she conducted research regarding the Jewish Community of Turkey, and proposed that they were of a Spanish origin.

I remember her making a huge pandispanya [a type of cake], and handing it out to children there. She also has a box collection; she makes colored boxes that symbolize each Jewish holiday (the symbol for each holiday was carved on each box), and sells these at the synagogue. These boxes are made of a variety of materials such as porcelain, cardboard and ceramic.

Tuna changed her name to Mazal in San Diego [Fortune and Mazal carry the same meaning. Tuna is short for Fortune in the Turkish language]. Tuna gave birth to two daughters named Teri Ester and Michelle Nora [Giving a middle name to children is a tradition among the Jewish families of America. One of these names almost always is of Judaic origin].

My other daughter, Nur, was born in 1961 in Istanbul. She is an expert on Infectious Diseases. She married Ivo Benzonana, and they have a son together named Atay. Atay has grown up in our house because her mother has a full-time job. Just like her kids, my wife also took her grandson out everyday for two hours. She would even stay at Nur’s house sometimes so Atay could resume his order [Atay is short for Sabetay in the Turkish language]. My wife and I see Nur as our heavenly radiance, and Atay as our light…

Atay is currently 14 years old. He usually comes over to our house after school. My wife prepares quiches and cakes for him. They also come to our house every Friday night. To this date, we have continued to keep these Shabat [Shabbat] dinners as a tradition.

In our family, we have traditionally prepared a Seder table for Pesach. During these Seders celebrated in Arditi fashion, we ate, we drank, and we sometimes even got drunk. We would sing songs, and all members of the family would join in. We celebrated the holiday as a true celebration. But, the woman of the house would get very tired after the holidays. I also remember my mother getting sick after the holidays would end. I especially like celebrating Purim. It is a happy celebration for young people; costume parties are thrown, lots of jokes are made, and children play with rattle-toys. Children loved Purim because they would get lots and lots of candy.

After I got married to Nina, I continued living in Yeldegirmeni. There was an array of strong friendships there at the time. Restaurants, Taksim Public Casino [a famous casino of its time, where celebrities often performed. In some cases, internationally acclaimed artists would perform there as well], Club X were among the places we liked to go. I never liked going to the Prince’s islands, and I still don’t like it. The islands make me feel as if I am in a prison that is open on all four sides. I get anxious. You miss your ferry by a matter of three minutes, and you end up losing 2 hours of work. I believe that Kadikoy has a place that has all-things-island. I remember going frequently to Yakacik [a high hill situated near the Anadolu hillside. The hillside had a beautiful view, and was famous for its natural spring water]. We would go to Yakacik often for picnics, and eat a wide variety of different foods we had prepared earlier and Pendik [one would get to Pendik, which was famous for its fish restaurants by train].
   
I used to sell revenue stamps in my free time. One day, when I was out walking, I found an envelope in the street. My friend became very interested in this envelope, so I sold it to him. Later that day, when I was walking through the Yuksek Kaldirim area, I found some stamp catalogues, and I was intrigued. From then on, I continually bought and sold stamps. Sometimes I bought an Ottoman stamp from a person that was not interesting in having it, and then sold it to someone else. This became both a business and a hobby for me. By selling revenue stamps, I was able to gain an in-depth historical and geographical knowledge. There used be one of those contest shows on TV5; during one of those shows a woman who had responded correctly to a question, raised her hands in the air. She was doing the victory sign with her hands, and saying “A la filateli.” I think that selling stamps is something that truly enhances a person.

My thoughts on being a Shabbatai are that some of them are completely against Jews, and others behave as if they are Jewish. 13 I also have done some research on the Karaites. 14 I know there are two categories of Karaites. First, there are Karaites of Turkish and of Caspian origin. It is not entirely possible to know who among them are Turkish or Jewish. I am thinking that the Russian Jews in Kiev are possibly Karaite. Second, there are Karaites of Iranian origin; they are the sons of people who study the Bene-Mikva. They are not really open to change; they accept things as given, and are not open to different perspectives on the subject.

We, the people in Kadikoy, were not entirely affected by one of the important policies of the day ‘Citizens, Speak Turkish,’ 15 because we were already speaking Turkish among ourselves. No one really had to force us to speak Turkish, and they did not need to anyway.

We were affected by the anti-Semitism in Germany though; we often heard about these occurrences. I believe that these occurrences especially began to generate some heat among us after all of those awful events took place. Maybe, no one wanted to believe they were true. Maybe, there was fear. I remember following the War from a map. I knew that the snake had to be destroyed – no matter what. Everyone heard that Jews were being taken from their homes by force, but there was not much information as to what actually happened to them after they were taken. When things began to break the surface – if you will – it was over… Most of the damage had been done.

I remember that my father was called in to serve in the 20 military classes. He went to Sindirgi to fight. He was not a person to surrender really; he was a very hardworking person so he viewed the military as a sport in some respects. He was the eldest soldier within his unit, so he knew how to get everyone else’s respect.

During that period, I was running my father’s store, and my mother was helping me. I got along very well with Romanian immigrants because I spoke Hebrew. After the War ended, several groups of Romanians had immigrated to Turkey. They would first come to Istanbul, and wait for 7-10 days so that their immigration paperwork could be processed. I had met a young, Romanian woman, and we had spoken in Hebrew. Before she left Istanbul, she told me this “We are the happiest people on Earth. I have come here from Romania; I only know how to speak Romanian. You live in Istanbul, and speak Turkish. Our mutual language is Hebrew. I know that I now have a brother in Turkey.” I was really affected by what she said…

The establishment of the Jewish State, Israel, was an extremely inspiring event for the Turkish Jewry. We followed the happenings moment by moment. This made us feel complete in a way. We had heard the good news at 3:30 in the AM that evening; we were following what was going on through the New York radio. I got extremely excited when I heard Ben Gurion’s speech at the United Nations. What he said that day - “We have founded our Jewish State, and we have named it the Government of Israel” – still gives me goose-bumps.

The events of 6-7th September, 1955, 16 were felt in Moda in a significant manner.  I did not know what was going on, or what to do because I could not get myself to view this as an anti-Semitic event. This was truly a barbaric event for me. My daughter Tuna was only a month-old at the time. The insurgents trashed my father’s store. They turned that beautiful store into shambles. The store, which was known for selling the best of the best, and which was always fully stocked, had almost disappeared. Oil bottles were tumbling onto the streets. We were able to see from Moda what was happening on the other side of the sea. Our relatives had suffered insurmountable losses as well. The insurgents did not take the next step to their destruction; they only destroyed non-Muslims’ office buildings and businesses. Many Muslim landlords took their non-Muslim lessees under their wings. I remember my wife watching all the destruction from behind the window curtains, while holding her daughter in her arms. These events were extremely thought-provoking…

We had extremely strong friendships in the Yeldegirmeni neighborhood. Since we had all met each other when we were teenagers, the high level positions or protocols some of us have reached today, did not build a wall between us and our friendships. We discussed many subjects amongst each other. The subjects of religion and Israel were not taboo, but we still did not discuss them much.

I was not really an active participant within the Jewish Community, but I always made it a point to be readily available as an architect whenever I was needed. I personally participated in the construction of the Caddebostan Synagogue. I drew the prototype. I remember submitting the project’s details as if they were for the construction of a dance school, not a synagogue. I was called in, and asked “What kind of a dance school is this going to be?” I responded “This is my understanding of what a dance school should be like.” We had to request favors from some of our old friends in order to continue with the construction project.

I later worked on the air-conditioning installation and restoration projects for the synagogue. I actually remember calling into attention that the installation for some of the air-conditioning systems were not accurate. Later, there would be some collapsing in the exact installations I called into question. Rabbi Adoni, [the Rav haKal of the Caddebostan Synagogue.], did not get hurt because of the collapsing, because he was aware that I had foreseen these problems. Another project I worked on was the restoration of the Goztepe Kultur Organization (GKD) and construction of its ground floor. 17

I can describe my political affiliation as almost neutral. I tend to lean towards the left a little bit, but I cannot help but think that politicians will always have to lie. I remember asking a worker during the Hirfanli Dam construction project which political party he was going to vote for. It was national election days. He responded “I will not vote for Menderes.” 18 I asked him why that was, and he said “This is a predominantly Muslim country. He had wine factories built in this area. How can I vote for him after that?” I asked another worker, and he said he was not going to vote for Menderes as well. When I asked why, he responded “This area is filled with grape vines. Menderes only had one factory constructed in this entire area, but more factories mean more jobs.” What I am trying to say is that I don’t think it is possible to please all of your citizens. This means that politicians have to play for both sides as long as they are actively involved in politics.

I was extremely furious and saddened to hear about the Neve Salom massacre in 1986 19 as well as the attacks of 15th of November 2003. 20 For some reason though, I had received word that both of these attacks were going to take place; people were talking about preparation efforts for these kinds of attacks for a long time. I cannot do anything but condone terrorism.

I am currently spending my days with my wife. My daughter Nur, and my grandson Atay have become my biggest support system. Last month, we celebrated Atay’s bar-mitzvah. We had the ceremony at the Caddebostan Synagogue, and then threw him a dinner party at the Goztepe Kultur Organization. Celebrating my grandson’s bar-mitzvah in these venues, on which I have worked with tremendous pleasure, has been a truly exciting event full of pride for me. My wife Nina also shares my sentiments.

Haydarpasa Jewish Community Student Regulations

1. The school opens at 7:50 AM with a prayer ceremony, for which attendance by all Jewish students is mandatory.
2. Classes will be held between 8 AM-12 PM and 1-4 PM.
3. Students are required to come to school with appropriate uniforms and school supplies.
4. Students are required to leave their coats and umbrellas in the cloakroom before entering their classrooms.
5. It is forbidden to make noise when going up and down the stairs.
6. Older students are not permitted to leave the classroom during class sessions. Younger students are allowed to leave only with the permission of their teacher.
7. It is forbidden to make noise or yell in the classrooms.
8. It is not possible to leave the school premises before classes end. In cases of emergency, students can see the school Principal.
9. When class sessions end, students should wait for their teachers’ permission before leaving school.
10. After class sessions begin, it is only possible to enter a classroom with the teacher’s permission.
11. Students’ behavior while entering and exiting school premises should be in accordance with the behavior that fits a student.
12. Students who do not return home immediately after class sessions end will be punished.
13. It is forbidden to play in the streets surrounding the school.
14. It is a rule of respect, and therefore necessary for students to greet the teachers they are acquainted with.
15. Students are required to keep their books and notebooks well taken care of.
16. Students, who have behavioral problems, will be suspended.
17. Students, who engage in immoral behaviors, will be expelled.
18. Students who come to school with ripped clothing in spite of all warnings will be suspended.

Teacher Regulations

1. Teachers are required to observe all general rules and regulations of the school.
2. Teachers are required to sign the teacher’s book as soon as they arrive to school.
3. Teachers are required to observe students in a close manner during class breaks.
4. Teachers are required to ensure that entries and exits to and from the classrooms are in tandem with school regulations.
5. Teachers are required to ensure the cleanliness of classrooms before students come in.
6. Teachers need to completely follow the class curriculum.
7. Teachers are required to note the subject and content of each class in the appropriate place.
8. Teachers should not permit outsiders to disrupt a classroom while it is in session.
9. Teachers are not allowed to leave the classroom while classes are in session.
10. It is requested that teachers do not punish students in a physical manner.
11. Teachers cannot seek their students’ help for their private affairs or work.
12. The Principal will hold teachers responsible for ensuring that the class book is completed.

Recipe 1: Gaya Kon Avramila (Goby with Plums)

Ingredients:
1 kg. of goby, approximately 11-13 pieces
½ kg. sour plums
1 lemon
Salt and oil or margarine (amounts arbitrary)

Cooking Instructions:
Each goby piece is cleaned thoroughly. The fish’s gills are cut with a specific type of scissors. The fish is then washed thoroughly. The plums are also thoroughly washed, and boiled. After the plums are cooked, they are placed in a drainer, and crushed until the plum’s skin and kernel is left. In this way, the water of the plums is filtered. After the plums are mixed with oil and salt, fish is added, and cooked thoroughly to complete the process.
Have a great one! We wish you crowded Shabbat dinners.

Recipe 2: Tapada De Kezo (De Berendjena)

Ingredients:
-For the dough:
1 tea cup of water
1 tea cup of vegetable oil
1 tea cup of margarine (melted)
3 glasses of flour
1 spoonful of baking powder
Salt

-For the filling:
1 water glass of grated cheese
2 large potatoes (boiled)
2 eggs
Salt and pepper
If eggplants are preferred, two grounded and cooked eggplants can be used instead.

Cooking Instructions:

The dough ingredients are mixed until dough with a very soft consistency is obtained. If the dough does not stick to one’s hand, which means it is ready. Let the dough rest for about half an hour. Then, it is divided into two parts, and the first piece is rolled out onto a tray in a thin style. The mixture of ingredients are mixed, and added onto the dough. Then, the second piece of the dough is rolled out onto the tray – on top of the dough and the mixture. The grated cheese and the egg yolk are added on, and the tapadas are cooked in the oven for about 30-40 minutes. The approximate cooking time depends on the type of oven. Please don’t leave the kitchen, otherwise all your efforts might go in vain.

Note: Cutting the tapadas into small pieces before cooking ensures that they are cooked well and thoroughly. Also, please don’t forget to grease the cooking tray before preparing the tapadas.

Today, there are pre-oiled aluminum foils; many use these for cooking. Back in the old days, when we did not have ovens at our homes, we used to take the cooking trays to the bakery. This was generally the children’s responsibility. The children also had to take the trays back from the bakery once they were cooked. If the baker mistakenly overcooked the tapadas and burnt them, our mothers would say “You must have been distracted playing.” If instead, the baker undercooked them, our mothers would say “You must have gone to the bakery earlier to get the tapadas.” El ornero (the baker) had a big role in all this.

Every Friday morning, these types of pastries such as laz kozaz de orno, laz bulemaz, laz borekaz, la tapada, were exchanged among neighbors. Everyone would send her neighbors a piece of what she had cooked. This was called gostijo. The plate that was sent to the neighbor, was of course, returned in full with another pastry. There was almost a traffic of plates among all neighbors…

Glossary:

Lina Franko
Istanbul
Turkey
Date of Interview: August 2004
Interviewer: Feride Petilon

I started speaking to Lina Franko, on a hot August morning, in Burgazada. She didn’t need to hurry, but she wanted to meet her friends in the afternoon. It wouldn’t be that bad if she had time for swimming in between. Lina Franko is still full of life, in spite of the 20 years she has spent alone. She has become the favorite of both her family and friends, with the positive outlook she has. Both problems and happiness can be shared with Lina. The aim is to ease the problems while increasing happiness. When we had lunch together, she said “it’s not appropriate for the young ones to pay the bills, when they are with their elders”, and thus I was treated. The tape was recording, but I guess she told me most of it over the phone, as she remembered and remembered. I guess she had become pretty occupied with telling me her life’s documentary.

My family background

Growing up

My husband Isak

Family life

Recipes

Glossary

My family background

My paternal grandmother’s father, Haskiya Hatem, was undersecretary to a chief rabbi who had been awarded a medal by the sultan. The sultan used to reward those who proved themselves useful to him with a medal. The chief rabbi and his advisors ran the community. These advisors were called undersecretaries. I don’t remember anything much more.

My father’s side of the family was from Istanbul. My father’s father, Salamon Baruh, used to work at a glassware shop in Beyoglu [a fashionable district in Istanbul with the street named Pera running in the middle of it] named “Karako”. “Istiklal Caddesi” [this very fashionable street that ran from Taksim Square till Tunel was then called “Pera”], the trade center of Istanbul, where foreign firms and shops selling foreign goods were located, was the busiest street of the city. During those days, working at a big shop brought with it an organized life. Being in charge of a warehouse or working as a cashier at a big shop was regarded as a respected career and was enough to support the family. Not everyone needed to become a merchant. Salamon Baruh, by taking advantage of the privilege granted to non-muslims had not performed his military service. 1 Salamon Baruh, had two more sisters, named Rebeka and Lea. Rebeka married Hayim Musabak, and they never had any children. On the other hand, Lea married the son of a very wealthy family, named Bohoraci Ravuna.

My paternal grandmother, Rashel Baruh (née Hatem), was from Daghamam. Daghamam, was in the hilly part of Kuzguncuk. [a neighborhood on the Anatolian side. It is across Ortakoy, which is on the European side. Both of the neighborhoods lie along the Bosphorus]. The Jewish people living in Daghamam either moved to Haydarpasha [an important neighborhood of Istanbul. All the trains that go to Anatolia, depart from this centeral train station, located in the neighborhood.] or to Ortakoy, due to the fire which broke out in the neighborhood. According to the reports of the time, this fire, which broke out in the 1915’s, was a big disaster. The firebrigade was not able to arrive in time, and thus the wooden houses were burnt down like dominoes, thus leaving many families homeless. According to my grandmother; when everybody was trying to save something in panic, a woman was trying to save her iron. Who knows, the reaction of her husband to an unironed shirt, may have crossed her mind!

Rashel Baruh had two brothers, named Rafael Hatem and Albert Hatem, and two sisters, named Sara Aruete and Recina Kordovero. Sara Aruete died during a cholera epidemic.

Recina Kordovero, on the other hand, emigrated to Buenos Aires with her husband. After World War I 2, the Ottoman Empire of the time was regarded as a “sick man”. [Editor’s note: The Ottoman Empire was called ‚The sick man of Europe‘ much earlier, in the second half of the 19th Century. Due to Anglo-French efforts the great power status of the Empire was maintained up until WWI, although most of its European territories had already been lost to various countries (Russia, Austria-Hungary, Serbia, Greece, Romania, Bulgaria, Albania, etc.) prior to WWI. Hence the name.] The economy had collapsed, while the fall of the empire was about to be declared. Planning a future under these circumstances, in this country, had become a dream for some people. Under these conditions several families emigrated to many parts of the world. The continent of America became the main center of this emigration. The ties with the ones who emigrated to America were broken off in a short period of time.

Rashel Baruh was a well-respected and liked lady in spite of her minimal education. She had finished primary school, in the Jewish Primary School in Uskudar. There was hardly a person who didn’t know Rashel Baruh in Ortakoy.  She helped everyone. I remember her listening to many people’s problems patiently. Besides, she was the first to volunteer for duties which could be regarded as “mitzva” [mitzvah], like washing the dead or looking after sick people. She had an effective role in my life, too. They had asked me whom I would like to take with me to the hospital, for my first child’s delivery. I had said that I’d like to have my grandmother with me, of course. The one to hold my hand should be my grandmother. My mother could wait for the news at home.

Salamon Baruh, my father’s father, the husband of my grandmother Rashel Baruh, was a well-respected man. He also used to work at the Karako Shop, in Beyoglu. His father-in-law had probably employed him. But Salamon Baruh died of a sudden heart attack at a young age. He couldn’t see any of his children’s weddings. For this reason, my grandmother would only dress in dark colors. She didn’t wear a scarf or a “yemeni” [a turkish scarf with embroidered borders], and would comb her hair into a bun, which was called a “kurulika”. Rashel Baruh died in 1963. She stayed at the Or-Ahayim Hospital 3 for a year before she died. She had broken her hipbone and that was a common enough thing to happen to old people in those days.  I went to the hospital two or three times a week from the day she was hospitalized till the day she died. Sometimes, when I want to remember my mother, my grandmother comes to my mind, and this makes me get angry at myself.

One of the family members whom I remember well is my grandmother’s late sister, Rebeka Musabak’s husband, Hayimachi Musabak.  Hayimachi had refused to live with his own family and had chosen to live with his wife’s family for many years. We followed the Kasherut [kashrut] and the Shabat [shabbath] rules strictly in my childhood’s home in Ortakoy. I guess this made him take this decision. The religious rules were followed in the Hatem and Baruh families, and Judeo-Spanish was spoken as the mother-tongue. My grandmother’s late sister’s husband would wear a “kipa”, and put on his “tefillin” every morning, and sometimes put on an “entari”. [“entari” is the turkish word for “robe”.  These robes, worn by men, were long shirts reaching the knees. This was an Ottoman tradition.] We lived to the full but without haste, in love and peace in this house of my childhood in Ortakoy. I guess this atmosphere, which we had at home, accounted for the real reason behind this gentleman’s choice.

Rashel Baruh had four children. Belina Baruh died at the age of five from uremia. I was named after her.

My grandmother’s elder daughter Anet married Albert Uziyel. The Uziyel family, immigrated to Israel in 1935. The Uziyels had a liberal family outlook. They were conservative but not especially religious. Festivals were celebrated, and Shabat was respected. They went to Israel during its foundation years and faced many difficulties there. Albert Uziyel even opened up a kiosk but unfortunately, he couldn’t run it for a long time. Anet supported the family by taking on sewing work at home for a while. Anet Uziyel had three daughters named Sheli, Beki, Lili. Beki and Lili still live in Israel, while Sheli lives in Austria. My cousin Sheli had a stamp collection which belonged to her husband. This collection consisted of the stamps which had been attached to letters written by soldiers to their families during the war. My cousin, Beki made her first marriage to a gentleman she met in Israel. She sent her grandmother their wedding picture. This was a very traditional mode of behavior. But the gentleman she married had problems which created a lot of problems in the marriage.  (I suppose he had sexual problems). My cousin divorced that man.  Her maternal grandmother, Rashel Baruh, who is my paternal grandmother, cut the groom out of the wedding picture, when she heard the news. Beki, made her second marriage to a gentleman named Mishel Saul and found happiness. Beki and Mishel had two children named Edna and Beni. Beni worked as a manager at one of the branches of Bank Hapoalim in Israel. He had a son and a daughter. He got divorced after having been married for 28 years. On the other hand, Edna has an extraordinary life story. She didn’t get married till the age of 38. She became pregnant from her boyfriend at 38. Her boyfriend was against her giving birth to the baby. Edna thought that this was her last chance and though the boyfriend rejected the child, she gave birth to him. Today this boy, named Mishel is a 19-year-old young man, and though his father is still alive, he doesn’t know him. And the father doesn’t want to see him either.

Rashel Baruh’s middle son, Rafael Baruh, used to live in Ortakoy, and was educated in Bene Berit [Bnai Brith] [Jewish Lycee] 4. He met Viktorya Hodara in Ortakoy, and got married again in Ortakoy. Salti Franko, a businessman living in Ankara, offered a job for Rafael Baruh, at his textile shop. In this way, Rafael Baruh and Viktorya Baruh, moved to Ankara. I used to spend most of my summer holidays in Ankara, when I was a teenager. The life in Ortakoy, was like a village life for me. Everybody knew each other, and lived together like siblings whether they were Greek, Turkish, or Jewish. On the other hand, you could smell the city life in Ankara. Aunt Viktorya was such a lady, who dressed up in a very stylish manner, and who never removed her corset. Even the gatherings held in Ankara, were not like the ones in Ortakoy. There was much more protocol in Ankara. There was even a secret competition between my mother, and aunt Viktorya. I guess the difference between the husbands’ income levels, was the cause of this competition. My father worked at a bank, while his brother was among the prominent merchants of Ankara. Rafael-Viktorya Baruh had their first son in 1931. They named him Selim after Rafael Baruh’s father’s name, Salamon Baruh. And they had their second son whom they named Erol in 1937. Erol finished Saint Joseph [French catholic high school], while Selim finished Robert College 5, both in Istanbul. In 1956, the government declared that merchants’ accounts would be more stringently monitored.  Rafael Baruh, and his family, sensing this coming pressure on his business, emigrated to Paris, in the year of 1958. Selim and Erol completed their higher education in Paris. Erol became an electronics engineer, while Selim became a decorator. Erol married a French lady, named Nicole, and had a son named David. After getting divorced, he made his second marriage with a designer named Eti. Selim had two sons from his first marriage. After getting a divorce from his first wife, he had a long secret relation with a lady whom he met while decorating her house. He married her after a while and settled down. Everyone married a Jewish spouse in the Baruh family up till now. Rafael and Viktorya died in Paris. My cousins, Erol and Selim, still residein Paris.

When it comes to my mother’s side, I know that they are from Edirne.  My mother’s father David Mitrani, had a very humorous and a cheerful nature. He made his living from his winery. Judeo-Spanish was also the mother tongue of this family who were not very religious. My mother, Fortune Baruh, came from Edirne at the age of three. She didn’t tell me anything about her life in Edirne. The most important thing I know about this family who are of Thracian origin, is that they were highly cultured. At the same time, the Mitrani family was famous for their humorous nature. Even my cousin Josef Sarfati (the son of my mother’s sister Virjini Sarfati), was invited over to friends’ gatherings on Saturday evenings, just to entertain them. His wife, Rozet Sarfati, was not very happy about this stituation at all.

My mother’s mother Simbul was also a housewife and of Edirne origin. I don’t have much information about the grandmother. Simbul Mitrani’s sibling married someone, bearing the surname Seni, and became a teacher at a primary school.

My father Josef Baruh’s name was Yasef Mishon Baruh. [in his documents]  He was born in 1902, and died in 1982. He belonged to a part in the society of the time, which could have been regarded as being intellectual. He was educated in Saint Joseph. [A French catholic high school] My father worked at an Italian bank called Banco di Roma [Bank of Rome], and didn’t do any other work in his life. Josef Baruh would go to work carrying a walking stick, and wearing a derby on his head, and “getr” on his socks. [In Turkish this is an ornamental chain worn on the upper part of the socks]. My mother did not like him carrying the walking stick at all. She said that this made him look old. Josef Baruh paid and served in the military for a shorter period of time.  He worked as a cleaner at a Military Hospital during his military service. I remember my father as a literary man with a beautiful handwriting. There was also a book named “Bareme” [classification system], which my father had written. He had written this book which consisted of mathematical charts providing more convenient methods for the conversion of foreign currencies. He stayed awake late at night in order to complete the book. By the time the book was published, people had begun to use calculating machines, and did not find the book as helpful as expected. He was terribly disapointed that his efforts had been in vain. His sensitive nature couldn’t handle this, he got sick, and was diagnosed with the Parkinson disease in 1945. In those years, the Parkinson disease wasn’t that known. There was no treatment for the disease, and nothing to stop it from spreading. I felt very sad when this diagnosis was made.  It was very painful for me to think of such a well-spoken man with such beautiful handwriting, as my father losing his abilities. He would prepare all the billboards that hung on the walls in my class during the “Domestic Goods Week” [Entertaining events were prepared at schools to encourage the students to use Turkish products, and to prevent them from fancying European goods. Children were thought to eat fruits grown in Turkey.] In this way, I had become popular amongst my teachers. My father regularly read a lot of books. He used to put his initials on every book he read to prevent them from being read for the second time. The newspapers of the time, like Journal D’Orient 6 and Stamboul 7 were delivered till Ortakoy, just for my father and his few friends.

When he retired from the Banco di Roma, my father was given a medal, depicting Romulus and Remus, symbols of Rome. Only, my husband went to that ceremony. Neither the wives nor the daughters were invited to such ceremonies at that time. The women did not take part in the social life fully yet. They didn’t participate in business relations either. I have kept the medal for years and have given it to my son now for it to be passed on to future generations. My son placed it in a nice corner at his house. My father went to my husband’s office for long years after he retired. He took care of the correspondence work in my husband’s office. And my husband benefited from my father’s banking and foreign language knowledge. My father regularly took his lunch box with him. He never ate outside. Eating outside would be an unnecessary expense and also harm the stomach. When the meals were prepared the amount of food needed for the lunch boxes the next day was taken into consideration. Very rarely, when food was not available, then he would eat a rice pudding from the sweet shop

My mother Fortune Baruh (née Mitrani) had five siblings. Virjini Mitrani married Moiz Sarfati and had two children named Zelda and Josef.

Klara Mitrani married Moiz Habib, and had two children, named Viktor and Edit.

The two brothers, Salamon and Moris Mitrani immigrated to America. Establishing their future abroad in order to earn more money was a prevailing thought during those days. Actually it is always said “to America”, but one of the brothers first went to Cuba and then to Mexico. They never came back to Istanbul. In this sense, my mother was separated from her siblings at a very young age and never saw them again. Their father went to America only once to see his sons. We learned from the news seldom received that they were also married and had children. From time to time small presents came from these siblings. We were informed when Salamon and Moris died. My mother went to the synagogue and did kriah for her brothers whom she never remembered, and mourned for seven days [shivah, in Ladino siete] by dressing in black [contrary to the Muslim and the Ashkenazi tradition the Ottoman and Turkish Sephardim wear black for morning] . Their children, on the other hand, came to Istanbul and found us, in other words their cousins. Though the siblings hadn’t been in contact, the cousins met each other.

My mother Fortune Mazalto Baruh, was educated in Istanbul after finishing primary school in Edirne. She received her diploma, from Alliance Israelite Universelle 8, called “Grand Brevet” [the big diploma].  My father had a colleague named Monsieur Seni, at the bank. Monsiuer Seni thought my father Josef Baruh and my mother Fortune Mitrani would be well-suited for each other. My mother got married and settled down in Ortakoy, when the families consented to this marriage. My mother never flirted with my father. My mother felt very happy when my daughter had a son, and dedicated herself to him. She would express her love by saying “ I didn’t know what love meant until I fell in love with Meyir (the name of my daughter’s son).

The wedding took place in the synagogue in Ortakoy one Friday during the spring months of the year 1928. (my mother never knew the exact date, she would only say that the weather was warm). There was a special excitement about weddings on Fridays. Everything had to be finished before the Shabat [shabbath], and they had to be home on Friday evening. We didn’t have any photographs taken after the wedding, in order not to violate the Shabat. That is why my mother doesn’t have a picture of herself with her wedding gown on. According to what my mother says, they went to a hotel in Yenikoy to spend their honeymoon. They rented one room for themselves, and one room for my grandmother. My mother has never forgotten this event and she still hasn’t forgiven her mother-in-law for it. How funny it seems today, a mother-in-law going on the honeymoon with the newly-wed couple.

Actually, my mother spent very nice days in Ortakoy. But she was a woman who was never quite satisfied with her own circumstances. I guess she was a litle bit ambitious, while my father was a very calm man in return. Though my mother always says, that her mother-in-law had ordered her to work, I always remember my grandmother doing the work. My mother was a very affectionate person, but she showed her affection only to the ones whom she loved. She was cold towards the others. She didn’t like being friends with everyone. Those she loved, she loved with all her heart, and wouldn’t hesitate to make any sacrifices for them. She was never able to get over my father being diagnosed with the Parkinson disease, and said that this disease affected her life very much. She was very skilled at cooking. But she wasn’t open to innovations. For this reason, in a good menu, there had to be “borekas” [Sephardic pastry filled with different kinds of fillings, either sweet or salty, like cheese, eggplants, potatoes or walnuts], not crepe. But in return she was very open-minded. She had both welcomed my son’s and my daughter’s flirts very nicely and provided them with comfort at home so that they would come and go without any hesitation. She said that she did this in the name of getting to know them better. But she couldn’t keep herself from asking each time “de quelle famille il/ elle est” meaning “which family is she/he from”. She liked getting dressed very much. She dyed her hair till six months before her death. She always had her manicure and pedicure done. She died in the year of 1992. 

Growing up

I was born in a neighborhood of Istanbul, called Ortakoy in 1929. I wasn’t named after my paternal grandmother as was the tradition, but was named after my father’s sister who had died at a very young age. [In the Sephardic tradition, the first girl born in the family is named after her father’s mother, the first boy after his father’s father, the second girl after her mother’s mother, and the second boy after her mother’s father] I’m the only daughter of this family. When I asked my mother about why I didn’t have any siblings, she used to reply: “la situation ke ofre la Banco di Roma no permetiya de azer otra kreyatura” meaning “the financial rewards which Banco di Roma offered did not permit us to have another child”. In the beginning I accepted this answer, but later on as I thought of even poorer families who had more children but who never starved and even went onto higher education, I decided that my mother was a little bit unfair. I even found my mother more unfair when I saw that my life style wasn’t even close to being poor. My father, from time to time, received some bonus or shopping tickets from the bank. He brought home food which was called delicacy with these tickets. Some examples of the delicacy are: Likorinos, lakerda [salted fish varieties], Gruyere [yellow French cheese] and Roquefort cheese, kalamata olives, and canned sardines. But within the years, I sometimes thought “I’m lucky to have no siblings, taking care of this mother and father is my duty.”

The house I grew up in is the same house my mother came to as a bride in Ortakoy. It was three-storeyed, and we always had electricity and running water. This house and the three other similar ones, were bought by selling a very valuable diamond bracelet of Rasel Baruh. While the Baruh family lived in one of them, in the three others lived some Muslim tenants. The relations with these neighbors were very good. But once when one of these neighbors said: “Of all the Jews I like you the best”, I felt uneasy. I took this to mean that “if he liked us more, he must like the others less”. From then on, I felt little bit heart-broken towards those neighbors.

I had a childhood full of quite nice memories. We would gather in the gardens, and play games. At night girls and boys, Muslim or not, would gather and play hide-and-seek with a piece of wood. We would spin a big piece of wood in the middle, and try to hide ourselves till it stopped spinning, then the “it” [the one to close his eyes] would open his eyes, and start searching for us. Throughout Ramadan [Muslim month of fasting] we would gather around the mosque and sing all together during Iftar [the end of Ramadan], when all the lights were on. These songs were children songs at first, then became the popular songs of the time.

During the summer months, my mother would take me to the place of today’s Cıragan Palace to swim. She couldn’t swim, but I learned how to swim in the Bosphorus.

Not every household had radios in those times. Our neighbors had one in their house, and we would listen to the “children’s hour” on Saturday mornings over at their house.

I was a well-liked student in the 29th Primary School in Ortakoy. One of my teachers who liked me very much wanted to call me by her own name, Yıldız. The name “Kemal” was given to Mustafa Kemal Ataturk 9 also by his teacher. My teacher must have been inspired by this event. My father didn’t favor this situation much, but for a while I was called Yıldız at school. My teacher would invite me to her house and treat me as if I was her own daughter. My father wasn’t very happy about this intimacy. He would politely turn down my teacher’s offers to have me over at her summer house. I often took part in the plays at school, and was found to be succesful. Today, if they ask me what I would like to be if I could be born again I would say “an announcer”. This is probably due to my memories from my school years. My Muslim friends’ mothers used wear a black scarf first when I was in the primary school. Later on, they started using colored ones. And most of them uncovered their heads as a result of the Ataturk reforms. 10 For this reason, I have a big love for Ataturk and secularity.

Ataturk’s death holds a special place in my memories. That morning, on the 10th of November in 1938, we saw the teachers running all of a sudden. They gathered us in the garden. The eyes of the teachers were swollen from crying. First, they told us to take out our white collars and then they sent us home. A mourning atmosphere was also prevailing at home. I remember all the students having been taken to Dolmabahce Palace [Ataturk’s residence at the time], and everybody crying. I also remember memorizing Ataturk poems. We were all crying as we passed in front of his body.

During our childhood, respect and love in our relations with our neighbors was important. We would all dine together under the pergola in the gardens during the summer months.

During my childhood, a washerwoman [a woman to do the washing only at a time when there were no washing machines] came to our house regularly. The name of this woman was Simbul, and she was Jewish. I have two memories related to this issue. I was the only daughter of the family who didn’t eat much food. My father would find and bring home the best of everything. The washerwoman had a daughter with red cheeks.  My mother asked her enviously what she gave her daughter to eat. She replied that she dipped bread into the coffee grounds which she had drunk before and gave this to her in the morning, and she shared with her daughter the food she was given at the houses where she worked.  In this way, they felt very sad, because I was very thin, though they were all paying very much attention to me.

This woman also worked at the community affairs. My grandmother was a very understanding woman. One day, while the woman was washing the laundry, news came that a corpse had to be washed. The woman left her work and started to prepare to go. As she was about to leave, my grandmother asked her whether she would also wash her nicely when she died. The washing maid said: “Si, a si biva la madam, de alma i de korason” meaning of “course madam, I’ll do it with all my heart.”

My father wasn’t religious. He would only go to the synagogue during the festivals and would not especially chant morning or Shabat prayers. The religious one was my grandmother Rashel Baruh. The festival she liked most was Pesah. Loksa was taken out during the Pesah Festival. I was asked to prepare the sugar, the salt, and the meat. The meat mills came out and all this was a very hard job. (These were hand grinders. The sugar and salt came as blocks, while meat came in large pieces. We crushed the salt and the sugar separately with knives. And we minced the meat. This process was done during Pesah time so that the salt, sugar and meat would be kosher). Anyways, I used to spend all my time with my mother and grandmother. Besides, I also believed that this was the way to be, as if there was no other way to be. We would knit and do embroidery together, and often welcome guests. Our house was located at a corner, which made everyone drop by. We had guests almost everyday. The guests who came in the afternoons would play card games with the family members. “Pastra”, a kind of “Pishti”, “Kunkam”, and “7.5” were among the card games which were played. There used to be three jars at home filled with 3 different types of cookies: cheese, vanilla, and blackpepper. When they were finished, my grandmother would make new ones. I still have this tradition going on at my home. When my daughter was young, her friends who came to visit would go after the jars and eat the cookies which my mother had made as “ke se tope” [a term in Ladino meaning “to have something at home to offer/ to eat”] I was glad to see the children happy. My friends like the blackpepper cookies, which I make quite often.

The sweaters which we knitted one winter were quite liked, and then we received orders from our neighbors. The three of us got together and completed the orders. And of course, we were paid in return. My mother was not happy about taking money and she distributed all of it to the poor.  At that time, knitting for money wasn’t acceptable behavior.

Our Turkish bath sessions were another story. We went to the “hamam” [turkish bath] once a month, for sure. But we never carried the hamam bag ourselves. The hamam bag was sent to the hamam the day before and was brought home by the “tellaks”, [bath attendants] afterwards. I have a memory related to this issue. One day, they took my cousin Erol, who had come from Ankara, to the hamam. My cousin looked at the hamam with eyes full of surprise and said:“How big my grandmother’s bathroom is!”

We would go out into the garden from the ground floor of the house we lived in.  My father, Josef Baruh took care of the soil, and planted flowers and vegetables. My father used to hoe the soil in order to receive better output, with the climate changing every season. He had to use mattock and shovel during his military service in the 20 military reserve classes 11. I can’t forget the words he said during the night he was called drafted, which were “I don’t want to see this night end”. My father did his military service in a district of Balıkesir, named Sındırgı. Sındırgı is sorrounded with mountains, and a dry, land climate prevails there. I wanted to give him a hug when he came back after eight months, but Iwasn’t allowed. First, he had to take off all of his clothes, and go to the hamam, because he had got infested with lice in that place he was doing his military service.

Speaking of the garden, I can also say that my friends also used to come to spend time in this small garden. We would water the pots and feel happy as shoots appeared through the soil. On the other hand, my daughter has two memories in relation to this. When my daughter got married, we wanted a flower called the “bride flower” for her, which was a special aromatic kind of flower. My father had found the name of the flowers immediately. He said: “ce sont de tubereuses” meaning “they are tuberoses”.  Indeed, the tuberose wasn’t the kind of flower that was known very much, but my father had known it at once. Our second memory is related to my father’s death. My father died in the middle of winter, and flowers appeared on one of the plants in the garden, which hadn’t flowered for two years!

I remember the bread given out by ration, duringWorld War II. The ration was a document given out by the headman during World War II. Due to scarcity, main items like sugar, salt, bread, oil, and rice were given in amounts allocated to each family. And getting these items was only possible by showing the documents, called ration. We used up all our coupons. I was always the one to get into line to receive our share, because my grandmother was too old, and my mother a little too proud to line up. We used to save the bread which we got during Pesah, too. We would place it out on the balcony, because keeping it at home wasn’t the right thing to do. We were afraid that we wouldn’t be able to find bread afterwards, so we saved it in as religious a way as we could.  I also remember that some of the very poor families would sell their rations or goods in the blackmarket to earn some money.

My family didn’t travel much. We would go to the cinema once a week, and visit my mother’s sisters, who lived in Tunel, once every 15 days. [a popular neighborhood in which the Jews lived] The way back home from Tunel was like a journey, during those days. Because my father liked walking very much, we would walk the distance between Tunel and Taksim [a central neighborhood], and Taksim and Dolmabahce [a neighborhood along the European side of the Bosphorus], and reach Ortakoy, by tram or bus.The distance between Tunel and Taksim, was the region where the most glamorous shops, the best restaurants, the passegeways, and the cinemas were located. The most luxurious goods were sold at the shops in these passegeways. Most of the shop owners were Levantines.12 The ladies would definitely go around wearing a hat in this region called Pera. We wore special hats when we went to the cinemas. We used them as accessories, not for keeping our heads warm. One of the most famous restaurants of Pera was “Regence”, which was run by Russian ladies. The most famous dish of the restaurant was Borscht. The women who did the service would carry on with their own traditions by wearing long, and embroidered dresses. The most famous “patisseries” [bakery] of Pera, were the “Markiz” and “Lebon”.  Also, the “Inci patisserie”, was famous for its “profiterol”.  As Dolmabahce was situated by the sea it was a pleasure to walk down the slope from Taksim to Dolmabahce and enjoy the sea view.

During the summer days, I would go on a ferry with my mother from Ortakoy. The ferries were the most important means of transportation, which were in use between the two sides of the Bosphorus. We would go to Bebek [a neighborhood on the European side, near Ortakoy] to meet my father, who would be coming home from work. Sometimes we ate a sandwich in the tea garden, and sometimes fish at the fish restaurant. It always gave me pain to witness my father’s movements getting restricted after he was diagnosed with the Parkinson disease.

I first rode in a taxi on a rainy day and told this to my friends immediately the following day. Rain meant mud during those days, because the roads were in quite a poor condition. At that time we couldn’t imagine the asphalt roads of the later years. Some of the house fronts are being cobbled today in order to give them a nostalgic look. Getting on a train was a totally different story. It seemed like a very long journey, when we got on the road to go to Yakacık. [a neighborhood on the hilly parts of the Asian side]. We would first go from Ortakoy to Besiktas [a neighborhood on the European side], than from Besiktas to Uskudar [a neighborhood on the Asian side in Istanbul], and than from Uskudar to Haydarpasha. There, we would get on the train, heading to Kartal [a suburb on the Asian side], and finally reach Yakacık. We would go to Yakacık to spend the weekend. Yakacık was famous for its tea gardens, fresh air, and spring water. People would go there with big jars, fill them with spring water, and take them to their homes. Swings were already set up in these vast green fields by the time we reached there, and whistles made of ceramic, called “kantariko” were sold. I would buy from these ceramic whistles every time we went there, and break it the following day. Yakacık’s paper kebab was famous. Paper Kebab is a kind of dish where the food, basically meat, is cooked either in greaseproof paper or in terracotta pots. Small pieces of meat and various vegetables, made up this kebab. There was also a sanatorium which we prefered to stay away from.  The sanatorium was a hospital in which patients with tuberculosis were treated. It was thought, because tuberculosis was an infectious disease, germs would be found near the hospital. Sterilization was far from today’s standards. In the following years, as the roads were constructed we started going to Yakacık in the mornings and returning home in the evenings. We would take stuffed peppers, meat balls, and boreks [pastry filled with either cheese or ground meat] from home to the picnics. We would divide the work to be done among the friends. Everybody would cook something, and large tables were laden and set. “Raki keyfi” was the name given to eating and having nice conversations at these laden tables. [Turkish term meaning relaxing meal with raki and mezes that usually goes on for hours.] 

My husband Franko

Who is my husband, in other words, Isak Franko? How did we meet, get married and live? Isak Franko, was born in Kırklareli in 1919. [Thrace, European Turkey] His mother, Franka Franko wasn’t a well-educated lady. She could even have been considered as semi-literate. Though she herself claimed to know how to read and write, I never remember her reading a newspaper. His father, Yomtov Franko, on the other hand was engaged in the leather trade. They were a family who had been affected by the events which took place in 1934 in Thrace. Jewish families’ houses and work places were looted during these Thrace events 13. They moved to Istanbul overnight leaving all of their possesions behind. The Jews, who had come to Istanbul the night the Thrace events took place were either placed at a hotel by the community, or they stayed over at their relatives’ homes. They went back to Kırklareli to close up their homes and work places after the events had cooled down. But of course, they experienced great financial loss during these times.

My husband Isak Franko had two siblings. Roza was born in the year of 1922. She was very fond of reading. She started going to English High School for Girls 14, after coming from Kırklareli. Her mother Franka Franko would turn off the light in her bedroom at night and say “Ogretmena te vas azer, kualo es” meaning “are you going to become a teacher or what?”. She was a very bright girl. Her first marriage was to Shapat Ozcakır at the age of 18, and had two children, Fifi and Baruh. Fifi lives in Istanbul, while Baruh “Otzkın” in Israel. The surname “Ozcakır” became modified to Otzkin to conform with the rules of grammar and pronunciation in Israel. Fifi Ozcakır, my husband’s niece reached marriageable age 8 years after losing her father, Shapat Ozcakır from kidney failure in 1955. The responsibility for “Tallet” [In  Sephardi tradition chuppah is actually a tallit held at each corner by one of the four parents of the bride and the groom over their heads.] was given to my husband, who was the eldest sibling. And I went to one of the most famous dressmakers of the time and had an embroidered brocade dress made. This dressmaker was our neighbor, and was the mother of Filiz Akın, who was one of the most famous actresses of the time. Six months before the wedding, someone also wanted to marry to Fifi’s mother, my husband’s sister. Bohor Alev was a well-liked merchant. I entered the synagogue on my son’s arm, Fifi on my husband’s, and Roza, on her new husband’s. Roza’s husband wasn’t present at the tallet ceremony, but joined us later on for the congratulations. Roza was married to Bohor Alev for 36 years, and my niece always felt guilty for not having given the responsibility for the tallet to Bohor Alev. He was engaged in the stationary business. He brought packages of notebooks to my daughter, when he came to us the first time for dinner. My daughter was very young then, and felt very happy to get so many notebooks.

My husband’s brother, Hayim Franko was a reckless young man. He was late to his military class one day during his last year at the Austrian High School [an Austrian missionary school subsidized by the Austrian government]. When his teacher asked him to salute, he refused. His teacher told him, that he would register his behavior into his records. Hayim Franko later on started studying medicine after graduating from high school. Later on, he decided to use his right to serve in the military as an officer, and therefore postponed his education. This right was given to high school graduates only. But his military teacher had done what he told him and marked his childish behavior in his records. Hayim Franko had to serve as a soldier, which was longer in his military service. In this way, he failed to complete his medical studies, and went into business with his elder brother and father. Later on he married Viktuar Abeni. Their first child, Frida died from leukemia at the age of 6, and said farewell to life in a short period of time. We learned about her disease after a continuous sore throat which wouldn’t heal. It was a kind of cancer which spread very fast, and the little girl died within a period like 11 months. My sister-in-law, Viktuar Franko, never pronouncedher daughter’s name again throughout her life. She only went to the cemetry with me once a year. She would cry that day there and would carry her sadness only in her heart the other 364 days. There is still a porcelain trinket of a girl over Viktuar Franko’s bed. One must know my sister-in-law very well to interpret this. If she wants definitely to indicate a date or an event, then she would say “el anyo del malor” meaning the “year of the disaster”. The couple, Hayim and Viktuar, later on had two sons named Tovi and Cuda.

My husband, Isak Franko, started his business life by doing the work he took over from his father. Isak Franko acted in an amateur theatre group which he and his friends had formed at the age of 18, on Heybeliada [one of the islands in the Marmara Sea, which are called The Princess Islands.] I was 8 years old then and would sing songs during the intervals, or between acts to enable the actors to change their costumes. After seeing each other for the first time, my husband always joked saying “I picked you up the first time I saw you, but waited for you to grow up”. Only, after 8 years from this first meeting, Heskiya Hatem and Soli Hatem, [my husband’s friends and at the same time distant relatives of my grandmother from her father’s side] introduced us to each other again. We came together one New Year’s Eve and went to the cinema the following day. Isak Franko announced his intention of marrying me through our common friends. When my family told me that there was someone who wanted to marry me, I said if it was Isak Franko, then I would agree. The news spread out fast in Ortakoy. Isak Franko came to us with his mother and brought us a box of candies. The permission for my marriage was given in the month of June of the year 1947. During those days the man’s family would bring candies in a silver bowl to the girl’s family when they went to visit them for the first time for the engagement. This was the custom, then. The size of the silver bowl, its hallmark and ornamentation and its karats (800 or 900 for silver) would indicate the refinement and wealth of the family who had brought it.  That day they didn’t bring me a silver bowl. They brought us a box of candies from an ordinary pastry shop. I joked about this ironically for many years. Later on, I bought a lot of silverware for my house. I felt happy with the box of candies because his mother was unfashionable, and uneducated, and there was no one to show her the way to behave. I feel angry today when I see the young girls and boys who want everything complete from the first day. I try to explain that things earned slowly give much more pleasure.

I remember a very happy atmosphere when it comes to my wedding memories. We got married at the Zulfaris Synagogue, which is used as a museum today, 15 on the 6th of June in 1948. This synagogue had a positive feature for the wedding ceremonies. It was regarded as good luck for the brides to climb up the stairs till they reached the tevah. There is a staircase with 15-20 steps at the entrance of the Zulfaris Synagogue. All the girls who were single at that moment, my cousins, my friends from the neighborhood, all wrote their names on the soles of my shoes. [There was a belief that to write one’s name on the sole of a bride’s shoe would cause a single girl to get married] My friends refreshed my make-up. (In those times there were no professional make-up people to come and make up the bride and her fiamily like ther is today.)  Actually, they were watching me with a little bit of envy. Though I was the youngest one among the cousins I was the one who got married the earliest. I was 18 years old. I had rented both my wedding dress and the veil, but I had had my veil made according to my taste. Our wedding was quite a modest ceremony, but all of our crowded family members, and all of Ortakoy was there. After all the bride was from Ortakoy. My bridal veil got ripped by a cat the day following the wedding. Consequently, we had to buy it. We went to Yalova [a city near Istanbul, which is famous for its spas] for our honeymoon. We shared the first house we rented with my mother-in-law. But I would always go to my mother’s house, which was in Ortakoy. My husband would also feel happier there. So he would escape from his mother’s authority and ignorance a little bit. My brother-in-law, Hayim, was faced with the same problem of finding a house for rent when he got married. We started living in the same house with my sister-in-law, Viktuar. We got along like sisters. We would play bezique, after having finished our household chores. Our most favorite dish, was a kind of salted fish called “liparidas” then. My sister-in-law would go out to buy liparidas, while I would stay at home. Then we would eat them. One day we must have eaten too much, because we both got urticaria. My sister-in-law, who had a more allergic constitution, couldn’t stop itching for a long time. We both didn’t eat liparidas again. My mother-in-law, on the other hand, died in Septemper 1952.

My mother and father did not want to live in Ortakoy anymore. Ortakoy had started to become an outmoded neighborhood. The rich families had started moving to Sisli, and Nisantas. The year was 1953.  My mother and father sold the three houses which they owned. The shares of the siblings who lived in Paris and Israel were sent to them, because the house actually belonged to my grandmother. My husband proposed to rent a house in Nisantas with my mother and father. Everybody was pleased with this situation. Living in a single house would actually be more economical. My mother helped me with the raising of my children. My mother and I would put the money needed for the kitchen expenses in a purse. Everybody who bought something for the house would get his allowance from my mother. My mother was in charge of this purse, from which all the expenses were paid. My husband wouldn’t take extra money for the things he bought for the house, since we had children, and the old people did not eat so much. He would bring fruit home everynight from the street fruitsellers. He sometimes brought home ‚kasher‘ cheese, which was sold by the merchants coming from Anatolia. [‚Kasher‘ meaning Kosher, it refers to a specific brand of yellow cheese, produced by the Sephardim and was popular among both Jews and non-Jews.] My mother would immediately make borekas [Sephardic pastry filled with different kinds of fillings, either sweet or salty, like cheese, eggplants, potatoes or walnuts] and boyos [Sephardic pastry made of flour, oil and cheese] from that “kasher” cheese. My father on the other hand, would also sometimes want to buy things from the stallholders, but would usually get cheated because he was sick. And my mother would get angry at my father. I was very upset by these scenes. It was obvious that my father’s intention was good.

I would go to Beyoglu with my mother to buy the glassware we needed at home when some money was left in the purse from which our monthly expenses were paid. We especially couldn’t resist the crystal items. We would also go into the cloth shops to buy cloth to be made up by our dressmaker Diamante, who came to our house each season for a whole day of sewing. The day our dressmaker came was almost like a party day. Our neighbors would also come and help, and we would prepare special menus for that day. If the dressmaker was skilled enough, she would even sew more than the number of dresses she first promised. My mother would always keep extra material for a skirt at hand.  “Diamante me vas a kuzir i una fustika”[Ladino for “Diamante, you will sew me sew one more skirt, OK?”] “Si madam Fortune, si me ayudash un poko, deke no” [“Of course madam Fortune, why not if you help me a little bit”]. We would understand that the dressmaker needed little bit help from these conversations. We had neighbors who were like siblings. They would come to help. We felt more close to our neighbors than our siblings.

The couple, Yair and Mari Mizrahi, had only one child, whose name was Lina Mizrahi. She was the young Lina, and I was the older one when we talked among ourselves. The Mizrahi family was a quiet family.  We, on the other hand, were crowded. Young Lina would always come over to our house. She would also get my father to do her homework as I did during my childhood years. We would dine together during the Jewish festivals, and go out together during the Muslim festivals. My husband first invited the Mizrahi family out when he bought his car. Owning a car was a privilege then. The ones who bought a car would invite the family members out one by one. There was also an excitement in our family when Lina Mizrahi got married. After all, we were from the same apartment. Lina Mizrahi married a lawyer, named Salamon Kaneti. Yair and Mari Mizrahi, who were left alone in the house, came over to us right after the day she got married. They started crying and said “ No teniya un bokado para darle, ke la enbiyi de kaza ?” [“Why did we have to send her away? Didn’t we have a piece of bread to feed her with?” ] We calmed them down with a smile. Salamon Kaneti, who was a calm, quiet man later progressed in his career very much. He first became an associate professor and then a professor. Mari Mizrahi who was very proud of her son-in-law, would start her sentences by saying “mi yerno el avokato” [“my son-in-law the lawyer”] or “mi yerno el profesor” [“my son-in-law the professor]. My mother and I would always smile very much at these comments because she didn’t have any other son-in-laws. Her only son-in-law was a lawyer and a professor. When Lina and I meet, we still hug each other lovingly.

Our house was not that hot, because it was heated with a stove. We had to keep an eye on the stove. We would only use the big living room when we had guests, and sit in the smaller living room otherwise. Once I told to my son to keep an eye on the stove, because we were expecting guests. He put a lot of wood into the stove. When we arrived home, we saw that we were lucky not to have had a fire. We had great difficulty in putting out the stove. My husband took the ashes out. The house became both cold and dirty. This was extra work for us. In the following years, we moved into a flat with central heating in Nishantash.

My husband’s family, was affected by the Wealth Tax 16, as much as they were affected by the 1934 events. Yomtov Franko, my father-in-law, paid his Wealth Tax with a lot of hardships. After the financial blow during the Thrace events, he experienced another financial blow. He paid a fortune in order not to go to Askale. [a small town in the north-east of Turkey, where the forced labor camps were for people who did not/could not pay the wealth tax] On the other hand, my father had the advantage of working at a bank, and so he got away with a much lower Wealth Tax. The bank undertook to pay the amount for which he was liable.

My husband and I made our first trip to Israel in 1955, because going to Israel was my husband’s greatest dream. We spent very nice days with my cousin Beki there. That trip was like an adaptation of Ortakoy life in Israel to me. My cousin Beki went on with her knitting. But this time it was really to support the family budget. Beki would usually make borekas and cakes at home, because the pastry business wasn’t that advanced during those years in Israel, and she also wanted to earn some extra money. Her husband Mishel and my husband got along very well. They introduced us to their friends. We witnessed for the first time how the soil was made fertile.

My husband went into business with his father in the leather trade. They would buy leather from Anatolia and sell it. My mother would say “it smells bad, but it makes money” about this business. Later on my husband and his brother started to export leather abroad. Merchants used to come often from abroad. But for some reason, not my husband but his brother would take care of these guests. My husband was engaged in the leather export business for long years. Our life was changed by some news we read in the newspaper one morning. I can’t remember the exact date of this event, but it must have been around 1970’s.  A quota had been placed on the leather export. This time, he and his brother founded a tannery, that is a leather factory. My husband didn’t like the factory business that much. He would often have disputes with his brother. For some reason, they had different ideas about business. We, the two sister-in-laws were careful not to get involved in these disputes. In-laws don’t usually see eye to eye, so they say, but we are still closer than two sisters.

We made our first trip to Europe both for business and pleasure. We went till Marseilles by ship. My husband had some business to attend to in Toulouse, so I stayed over at my cousins in Paris. Upon my husband’s return from Toulouse, my cousins didn’t let us leave and we stayed over at their house. My husband wanted to take a bath immediately when he came over to my cousins. My cousin’s wife, who had a very good sense of humor said: “comment tu veux te laver? Il n’ya que les gens sales qui se lavent. Les gens propres ne se lavent pas!” [French for “What? You want to take a bath? Only dirty people take baths, not clean ones!”.] I always remember this joke. Later on we did many trips with my husband together. In the past, we used to return with a lot of suitcases which were filled with all the things we had bought. In those times, import items were very scarce in Turkey. Even a little thing we bought from Europe was very important. Nevertheless, when it came to shopping, my husband and I wouldn’t get along. I liked to buy presents both for myself and for my mother, for my children, and for my friends.  He didn’t agree.

My summer memories are colored mostly by the days spent in Caddebostan [a neighborhood on the Asian side]. Caddebostan was full of two storeyed houses, convenient to buy because they were offered by the bank at a reduced credit rate. Each house had a very big garden. There were fruit trees in these gardens. We would make jam from the fruit of these trees. In one of our summer houses, there were 8 different kinds of plum trees. Our landlords would divide the trees among the tenants. Mulberries were sold to the mulberry sellers. If there were two trees from the same kind, then one would belong to the landlord, and the other to the tenants. We knew about these trees and didn’t touch them. We would gather wallnuts when we were about to return to our winter houses. The hands of the those who peeled the wallnuts without a glove would get all black. During those days it was still possible to swim in the Marmara Sea. My husband would rent a boat for me seasonly, so that we didn’t have to line up each time we wanted to go swimming. There used to be long queues in front of the boat renters on the weekends. We didn’t have to wait in line because we had our own boat. The ones in line would scream and yell while we felt like as if we owned a big yacht. On the other hand, we would eat ice cream on Bagdat Street on hot summer nights. Each night we would go over to a friend’s house and entertain ourselves by telling jokes. If we stayed home one night, my father would ask “Isako esta hazino u keyfsiz?” [“Is Isak sick or not feeling well?”] During those days my father’s sickness had advanced quite much. He couldn’t take his wife around, and expected me to take my mother out. My husband wouldn’t say anything about my mother joining us.

The events of September the 6th and the 7th  17 suddenly shadowed these nice memories. We heard noises that night but didn’t pay much attention. My husband was shocked when he went to work the next morning and saw what had been done. At the time, we were living in Tukenmez Yuva, in Caddebostan. Eveyrwhere was looted. The refrigerators in the houses were lying in the streets. All the consumer goods had been thrown out onto the streets. They claimed that this was done by a few looters. The government said that they couldn’t stop these looters. I think being unable to stop them was also a failure. According to the rumors, this was done against the Greeks, and they say that even some Greek girls were raped. For them the term “non-muslim” meant, Jew, Armenian or Greek. The headman in Burgazada prevented the looters who came in barges from stepping onto the island and was able to protect the citizens living there. The damage both in Beyoglu and Buyukada was big. Our landlords kept us in their houses till morning. They tried to calm us down by saying “as long as we are here, they can’t harm you”. Of course, there were also some robberies, and a big financial damage occurred.

Cinemas and theatres were a big part of our social life. We would buy season tickets for the cinema, as this was the fashion then. On Saturday nights, some singers would sometimes take the stage before the film started. I remember some singers who are very famous today taking the stage at the Konak Cinema before the film started for PR reasons. Ilham Gencer and Ajda Pekkan are examples of such singers. [Ilham Gencer was a famous pop musician and Ajda Pekkan was a celebrated diva] Felt hats, leather gloves, and coats sewn by the best dressmakers had become outmoded and members of the Jewish community had started following the day’s fashion step by step. Especially wearing the clothes bought from the journeys abroad to the cinema evenings had become a symbol of wealth and the jet set. The tables prepared at the friends’ gatherings played an important role. In these gatherings, which were described as “fikso” [meaning, “a fixed day or night”], besides playing cards, many viscera, fried and sweet dishes were prepared which are out of favor today. Such big tables are not prepared any more, because we all have cholesterol or high blood pressure. In other words, we have gotten old.

I did not work. My house, family relations, neighbors, and “fikso”s, like many other women of my age, played an important role in my social life. [fikso is a day when people gather to socialize with each other. The most important thing was that these gatherings were held on the same day, and people came and went at a fixed time.] On the 22nd of December in 1989, I had just come back home from a fikso, and was waiting for my husband to come from work. The door rang. I said: “yaa hoo”, I’m coming. It was not my husband but my son. I immediately asked: “Your father ?”. He said: “At the hospital”. I said: “Take me over there at once”. He replied: “Tomorrow morning”. Then I screamed: “He is dead”. I had understood that there was to be no tomorrow. He had died suddenly in his beloved factory while taking a nap which he frequently took on his couch. From time to time, I wish that he had become sick first so that I could have looked after him. Then I stop this line of thought immediately. God takes his beloved ones without making them suffer. My husband was a very well-liked person. My friends never left me alone after his death. Nothing was same any more, but life went on.

The slogan, “Citizen speak Turkish”, 18 is a positive event on my mind. I don’t find it right, when people born in one country, and having equal rights with all the other citizens don’t speak the language of that country. My mother spoke almost no Turkish. She never made an effort to speak or learn the language either. According to her there was no need to be proficient in Turkish in order to shop from the street sellers. She would sing lullabies to her children in Ladino. Television hadn’t been invented yet, and all her friends spoke either French or Ladino. I, on the other hand believe in speaking the language of a country in order to belong there. Our children started speaking better Turkish. According to me this helped them to establish better relations and to present themselves better.

We heard the news about the World War II first on the radio and then from the newspapers. Actually, if we are to tell the truth, we learned about the terrible events in 1944, when the war was over. Maybe because we didn’t want to believe what was happening, we couldn’t see everything clearly. I start shaking when this brutality comes to my mind. I couldn’t come to myself for a long time after seeing the Holocaust Museum in Yad Vashem 19.

As for the Struma, 20 I had thought the Struma event would end in a different way, and Turkish hospitality would save the ship.

I don’t have much information about the Salonikans [donme] 21. As far as I know, they are either anti-semitic, or very “croyant” [religious]. And they hide themselves, in other words they do not expose themselves. It is said that the Tesvikiye Mosque [a mosque in the neighborhood of Nisantası] belongs to these donmes, but there isn’t any proof or sign of this. In the same way, the Sisli Terakki High School, [a high school in Nisantas] and Isik High School [another high school in Nisantas] are said to belong to the Salonikans. But again, there is no document or sign showing that this is
so.

On the other hand, the Karaites 22, are no different for me. I have Karaite friends, and yet I don’t see any difference between us. It is as if my friend is telling about my own religion when she speaks. My friend’s daughter got married in Israel. (the Bet-Din here didn’t allow a Karaite to marry a Jew here) but I know marrying a Karaite is forbidden. I even remember that there is a saying that “if you want to marry a Karaite, first make him an Armenian, then marry him”.

Politics wasn’t a subject in which either the Baruh or the Franko family showed an interest. We didn’t favor a particular party either. But both my family and my husband’s family were supporters of Ataturk. And we were raised with his reforms and principles. We also taught this to our children. I’m not happy with the situation today where the leading party is a conservative one. I didn’t sleep till the morning the night the results of the last elections were announced. My son said: “We don’t worry about this so much. What is happening to you?”. Some bad experiences which we witnessed in the past have made us pessimists. 

Family life

My husband and I had two children. Our son is Tovi Franko and our daughter is Feride Petilon (née Franko). Tovi was born in 1950 and Feride in 1957. We followed the Jewish traditions throghout our lives. My husband would always feel proud to say that he was Jewish wherever he was. On the other hand, our son’s circumcision ceremony was quite a modest one. Lemonade, biscuits, and as was the fashion of the time, in a small bag, candied almonds and pastry, and a piece of sponge cake was offered to the guests. My son’s bar mitzvah ceremony was done on a Saturday morning in the Caddebostan Synagogue [synagogue on the Asian side of Istanbul], and later on a coctail was given in the Suadiye Hotel [a hotel on the Asian shores of Istanbul]. The synagogue was crowded. I had bought a blue suit from Paris for this occasion, and my shoes and hat were white. It was August and very hot. We had guests coming from Burgazada. I had prepared lunch for them at my house, so that they didn’t have to go and come back from the island. I had a tablecloth which I had embroidered for the Bar mitzvah, but I was afraid to use it in case it got dirty. I then placed it in my daughter’s bottom drawer. In those days, the tefillin ceremony wasn’t ostentatious. My husband and our son went on a Thursday morning, two days before the Bar mitzvah ceremony, and had the tefillin ceremony and came back home. Then we gave out candies. That was it. Tovi Franko grew up according to the Jewish traditions. He even became the president of Amikal, which was one of the popular Jewish youth clubs of the time. Tovi started his business life with his father, and like most other young men didn’t like working with his father very much. He founded his own business after a short period of time. Nevertheless, he couldn’t part from the family business, which was the leather trade. He exported ready-made leather. His father helped him with the supply of raw materials.  My husband was a well-respected personality in Kazlıcesme. [the center of leather trade in old times in Istanbul. Later on all the leather factories and tanneries were moved to Tuzla, a suburb of Istanbul.] His nickname was “corbaci” [soup maker] meant a non-muslim boss, and his every word was attended.

While I was pregnant to my daughter, we experienced a big panic. I had German measles during my pregnancy. This illness is totally harmless in children. But in pregnant women it is the cause of a handicapped child. Blindness or the lack of an organ is an example of this. My doctor said that my baby was four months old and had completed all of her development when I got the illness. We believed him. We were very nervous after the birth. We went through a lot of distress till my daughter reached the age of one, and only then did we understand that all of her reflexes were healthy. We would always shake a rattle at her to see if she could hear or not. We would hold colorful objects in our hands and check to see if she could follow them or not. Actually, it was a risk which we shouldn’t have taken. Thank God though, my daughter started walking early, and was very succesful at school.

My daughter Feride Petilon entered the university exams two times, after finishing St. Benoit French School for Girls [French Catholic high school]. On her first try she gained a place in the French literature department of Istanbul University. 23 During those years, there was a lot of terrorism between the left and right in universities 24. She didn’t want to go on under those circumstances. As a very good student, she didn’t think French literature was a worthy subject for her. In her second try she gained a place in Business Studies. She was now married and living on the Asian side, and she was unable to complete her studies when she had a baby. She didn’t have an orderly working life. From time to time she did some private tutoring, and made costume jewelry.  She also worked for Assis. Prof. Sami Gulgoz at Koc University 25 on one of his experiments in psychology.  The experiment was researching the relationship of memory and language.  They used people who spoke Ladino and turkish in this experiment and their speech patterns were later scientifically analyzed. She made interviews and wrote articles for the Shalom newspaper 26. She participated in the Goztepe Cultural Association [Jewish youth club on the Asian side] at a managerial level.

I don’t see myself as a liberal. I like going to the synagogue. I’m moved when I attend the ceremonies and the festivals in the synagogue. I reach for God during each opening of Ehal. I don’t approve of going to the synagogue with revealing clothing. I don’t like getting into long conversations when I go to the synagogue, either.

My granddaughter Meyzi has an important part in my life. We are far beyond being a grandmother and a grandchild; we are like mother and daughter, with my daughter’s daughter Meyzi. She was born in 1979. Her father hadn’t done his military service yet when she was born. She and her mother lived at our house during her father’s military service. This may be the reason for our close relation. I got very excited during her wedding. Meyzi grew up like my daughter.

They wanted me present in the cortege when my son’s son was getting married. I was moved very much. These weddings which took place at the Neve Salom synagogue 27, are exciting moments of my life.

I first heard about the 1986 Neve Salom massacre 28 from my daughter. My daughter’s facehad gone deathly pale when she came home. I thought something had happened to her father. I felt very sad when I heard the news. We were invited to a wedding the following day.  They couldn’t postpone the wedding [it’s bad luck to postpone a wedding in the Sephardi tradition], so this wedding which started with such a dreadful event continued in the same way and ended in divorce.

I heard the news of the 2003 bombings 29 from my son. My son went to the Sisli Synagogue 30 immediately because some of our relatives were at the scene of the explosion. He called me and informed about the Neve Salom bombing immediately which had taken place simultaneously.

I am now living alone. I have 5 grandchildren and a very young great-grandchild. The second great-grandchild is on the way already. I have always tried to look at life from a positive point of view. I have tried to follow my traditions like my husband and father, and be modern like my grandmother and my mother. I think only in this way can I take my place among the young people. 

Recipes

Boyikos de pimyenta (biscuits with blackpepper)
Ingredients:

1 coffee cup of oil
1 coffee cup of water
1 coffee cup of melted margarine
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of blackpepper
1 teaspoon of cinnamon
3 tablespoons of sugar
as much flour as it takes to make a soft dough

How to prepare:

Oil, water, and the melted margarin is mixed together. Then, the other ingredients are added in order to this mixture. Flour is added finally, to make a dough. The dough is rolled thinly and cooked in the oven. Bonne apetit.

Biscuit:
Ingredients

1 coffee cup of oil
1 cofee cup of melted margarine
1 package of vanilla
3 tablespoons of sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon of lemon juice
1 teaspoon of milk
1 teaspoon of baking powder
as much flour as it takes to make a soft dough

How to prepare:

Oil, and melted margarine is mixed with vanilla, sugar, egg, lemon juice, and milk. Flour is added last, and the dough is rolled out thinly. Jam could be added on the top, if wanted, and cooked in the oven. Bonne apetit.

Boyikos with kasher [yellow cheese]
Ingredients

1 coffee cup of oil
1 coffee cup of melted margarine
1 coffee cup of water
1 glass of water old kasher [yellow cheese]
a pinch of salt
as much flour as it takes to make a soft dough

How to prepare:

Oil, margarine, and water are mixed together, and flour is added to make a dough. Kasher [yellow cheese] is also added, and the dough is rolled out. Cooked in the oven. Bonne apetit. 

Glossary

Efim Geifman
Kiev
Ukraine
Interviewer: Elena Tsarovskaya
Date of Interview: December 2001

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War

Glossary    

My family background

I was born on 8 August 1923 in the small town of Novograd-Volysk in Zhytomir region.  My ancestors must have come from Belarus. I had many relatives there. My grandfather, my father’s father, Elia Berko Geifman lived in Novograd-Volynskiy. He had a small house there. There were three rooms and a carpenter’s shop in this house. My grandfather was a carpenter. Perhaps, somebody still has those solid pieces of furniture that he made. There was always a lot of freshly cut shavings in his shop. This smell has become the smell of childhood to me. There was a small vegetable garden and an orchard near the house, but no cattle. My grandfather and grandmother were living in one room. There was a second little room with a small window in it that was meant to be mine later. My grandfather died in the early 30s. I remember him well saying his evening prayer wearing his tahles He was prayed each day, often went in the synagogue, but me this not much interested. Clothing he was either as all handicraftsman, usually, only on the head always was hat. My mother called him and her own parents orthodox believers (orthodox here – extreme believers). I have no idea what was the name of Elia Berko’s wife and my grandmother. She was just a Granny, wearing her shawl tied under her chin, and an apron (there were always dried pumpkinseeds in its pocket that she readily treated me with). In third room of this building live Israel, the only brother of my father, his wife Feiga and their many children (Grisha and Fania – the children of his first wife that died; Raya, Abrasha, Bella, Petia, Sonia, Rosochka and Fierochka were born in his 2nd marriage). I was very close with Fania (1907–1983). After their wedding my parents took her to their family. Father much liked Fania, and she was to him clinging. Feiga was not Faina’s mother, and her was difficult to contain such greater family. She looked after me and loved me very much. Later she married my father’s colleague Boris and moved to Kiev. Uncle Israel, Fania’s father, had no education or profession. His 2nd wife Feiga was the breadwinner in the family. She was very handy. She did this and that, made little pancakes and sold them, sold something at the market and did whatever she could to support the family. Three of her children Grisha, Raya, Petia and became typesetters in a printing house. Raya was in evacuations in Chkalovsk. Her son become to the scientist, physicist, he after the war has left to work in Leningrad. Presently it lives in Sankt-Peterburg, brings up grandsons. Petia waged war the whole war with 1941 before 1945 ordinary soldier, has finished a war in Berlin. Married, live in Belorussia, worked on post. Died In 1970s. He's son and daughter live in USA. Bella live in Ovruch, dide before the war from some diseases. Abrasha studied in the Leningrad Aeronautical Institute (after finishing Jewish school in Novograd-Volynskiy). He was a pilot during the war. He died in the rank of lieutenant colonel in Kiev some time in the 1980. He’s daughter Ella lives in USA in Baltimor. Firochka was the most small, she brought up Abrasha, as he’s native daughter. After,  she has married and has left in Belorussia. In Minsk she worked a master at the factory beside it three sons. In 1979 they have left with USA. Relationships with they are broken.

I not litter in the house of grandparent of religious holidays. Anyway, I not know that anyone from he’s families kept traditions.

Lashanovskiys, my mother’s parents, had a house in a different part of Novograd-Volynskiy. It was located not far from my Granny Geifman’s house. Their house was different from the house of my grandfather Geifman. Theirs was a big house with big rooms. There was a kitchen, a bedroom and a living room in the house. My mother and I lived in this house for a very short time. I remember my grandmother wearing a wig. Their last name Lashanovskiys derives from the name of a little town Loshanka or Lashenka somewhere in Poland. My mother’s grandfather came from this town. He was a cattle dealer. My grandfather Berko Lashanovskiy was his son and was involved in the same business. So was my mother’s brother Petia. But this business didn’t bring them any riches. My grandfather Berko Lashanovskiy had died some time before my birth. My mother told me that his last wish was to have the ritual of circumcision performed if they gave birth to a boy. They had a different opinion on this subject but dared not to disobey. I don’t remember the name of Berko’s wife, my mother’s mother. She died from cancer in 1928 or 1929. Besides my mother, the Lashanoskiys had three sons and a daughter. Yakov, the oldest, was good at playing chess. He moved to the United States in 1905. He was single. After the revolution the family heard that he died. Aron (Arun), another brother, also died very young, but I don’t know the reason why. His sister Sarah (Surah) married somebody by the name of Gorodetskiy in 1915 and moved to Alexandria (near the town of Rovno) where he lived. Gorodetskiy was a very well to do man. He owned a mill. After the revolution the Rovno region belonged to Poland. This was so until 1939. We were separated with our relatives by the borders.  My mother’s brother Petia, his wife Luba and daughter Golda (they called her Galia) lived in the village of Rykhalskoye in the vicinity of Novograd-Volynskiy. I spent almost every summer in my uncle’s family when I was a child. He had a house and kept poultry and cattle. His wife Luba was a plain Jewish housewife. But my uncle was very religious and prayed every day, although he didn’t understand a word in Yiddish. However, he knew his prayers and knew how to observe the rules. There were kosher dishes and kitchenware in the house. But when I was visiting them Luba used to fry eggs on pork fat, and my uncle was naïve enough to think that it was done on a different frying pan. However, he allowed himself some violation of the rules. On Friday night he used to secretly smoke a cigarette that he rolled for himself after a substantial supper. My uncle had a horse. He said that one had to treat her with the utmost respect considering her age. Once this horse got loose and broke into somebody’s vegetable garden. This happened on a Friday night, when my uncle was praying. I ran to him to tell him to get the horse out of that garden, but he just showed by the intonation to leave him alone, murmuring his prayer. So Luba and I had to go after this runaway horse and take her back to where she belonged. Here’s another story. Once uncle Petia and another farmer bought a haystack (the two of them were going to share this one haystack). This farmer insisted on delivering this hay on Saturday. It looked like a storm and my uncle agreed. I put harness on the horse under my uncle’s supervision. My uncle was walking beside the wagon (he walked with a stick, as he had a broken his leg). I had the reins. We came to the spot where some guys loaded our and that farmer’s wagon with hay for a pack of makhorka (cheap tobacco).  They put a long beam on the hay and tied it, and I sat on top of it holding the reins. The horse knew her way home well; therefore, my involvement was minimal. My uncle’s house was on top of a hill. I was only 10 years old and knew little about reining horses. The wagon full of hay fell on its side on the ascent. I fell into that nicely smelling haystack. My uncle’s partner had left by then. I couldn’t possibly cope with that much hay alone. So, my uncle had to call his neighbors and they took all that hay to the attic of his house.

My uncle didn’t do any work on Saturday. Besides my uncle’s, there were five or six Jewish families in the village The rest of the population was Ukrainian or German. Families of Jews spoke on Yiddish, German - on Germanic language, Ukrainian - on Ukrainian. Uncle liberally spoke on Ukrainian and Germanic by languages, but its neighbors knew little Yiddish. All live much amicably, all each other understood, respected and helped. The German community was big. They were all very close and well off. My uncle had a German friend that was a forester. I also played with German children. That was where I heard German for the first time. There were horses, cows, bulls, pigs, turkey and ponds full of fish in every German farm. At the beginning of the war Luba and her children came to Kiev and then moved on to Luba’s sister in Dnepropetrovsk. Yasha Kotlar, her sister’s husband, was Chief of the police department at Sinelnikovo near Dnepropetrovsk. We couldn’t track them down after the war. They must have perished. Uncle Petia refused to give up his household and leave. Besides, his German friend promised to hide him in the woods. After the war people at Rykhalskoye told me that uncle Petia and other Jews were shot by the Germans.

The life of my mother’s sister Surah was also tragic. She had a daughter and four sons. We didn’t hear anything about their family until 1939. During the Stalin’s period it was very dangerous to have relatives abroad and my mother didn’t ever mention the fact that she had relatives. After the Western Ukraine joined the Soviet Union they found us. My mother went to visit them on 10 June 1941. The war began when my mother was there. However difficult it was she managed to return to Kiev on 23 June. My mother’s family stayed in Rovno region. When the Germans came my aunt’s family and another Jewish family went to the woods. The local people helped them to arrange a shelter in the woods. The local farmers provided them with food and everything else they needed to live there. Before leaving the Germans happened to discover their shelter. They were all exterminated. Only a girl from that other family and my cousin Yasha survived. Yasha went to the Polish army. After the war Yasha (Yankel) Gorodetskiy turned out to be in Israel. That’s all I know about him.

My father Ios-Haim Elia-Berkovich Geifman was born in 1891. He must have been born in Novograd-Volynskiy. I don’t have any information about his childhood or education. In one of pictures he’s wearing some kind of a uniform. He was literate and had beautiful handwriting. This shows that he must have studied somewhere. My mother told me that my father could sing and play the violin and flute.

During WWI my father was in the sharpshooter unit on the front. After one of combat actions there were only three of them alive. My father returned from the front with a gray strand of hair. During the civil war he struggled in a Red Partisan Unit. My mother and I had a certificate confirming this fact and we could have some privileges, like food ration, and later we received an apartment in Kiev.

After the civil war my father was Chairman of the United Consumers’ Community in Novograd-Volynskiy. Although he wasn’t a member of the Communist Party, he had an official position being an intelligent and honest man. Once he went on business to Zhytomir. He let his accountant take a seat in the cabin and he sat in the body of the truck. He was wearing shoes although the weather was cold. His employees told him to take warm boots from the storage facility but he refused, saying that warm boots were for the workers. He caught cold that resulted in the fulminate tuberculosis. His friends took him to a hospital in Kiev but they failed to stop the hemorrhage. He only lived three months. He was buried at the Jewish cemetery 1 in Kiev. My father died in 1926 when I was 3 years old.

My mother Reizia (Rosa) Berkovna Lashanovskaya was born in 1898 in Novograd-Volynskiy.  I don’t know anything about her life before the revolution. During the civil war she was in a partisan unit where she met my father. My mother told me what Petlura  2 soldiers were doing in their town, how one of the bandits ran after her sister, throwing his rifle with a bayonet in her direction but missed. My parents had a friend in the partisan unit. His name was Froim. He was a rabbi’s son and he left his family to take part in the revolution. He perished in 1919. His Party nickname was Efim. I was called after him. Children are usually named after their deceased relatives, but I was named by the Party nickname. The civil war left many children orphans. My mother and few other volunteers opened a Jewish orphanage in Novograd-Volynskiy. My mother was its director for some time, but then she was assigned to go to Kiev to continue her education. She finished the Jewish Pedagogical School 3. Then my mother returned to Novograd-Volynskiy and was director of a kindergarten. She worked in the institutions for children all her life as a tutor and music teacher. She had a beautiful soprano.

Growing up

When I was a child I was in the care of our housemaid. She milked the cow and gave me some milk. After my father’s death we moved to my grandmother Lashanovskaya. She also died and we moved my mother’s friend. She and her husband and her son (we were the same age) lived in the house of an Orthodox priest. His was a very big house. At that time people like him having bigger living quarters let other people get accommodation in their houses. Such was the rule at that time that did not allow people to own bigger living areas. There was a beautiful orchard near the house. We, kids, were allowed to eat whatever we wanted there and play with dogs. However, even this well off priest didn’t have power supply or running water in his house. The early 30s were the years of hunger in Ukraine. It was difficult for my mother to survive in that smaller town and we moved to Fania in Kiev. My cousin Fania worked as cashier at the railway station and her husband Boris was involved in commerce. Fania lived in a communal apartment with 18 neighbors and no water or toilet. We lived so for about two years. Then my mother received a small room as a widow of a red partisan.

I only visited my hometown Novograd-Volynskiy in summer. There is a very beautiful and picturesque river Sluch with the rocky steep banks and fast and clean water. There is a big park in the center of the town. The town was sinking in the green trees. There were big markets where farmers were selling their products. There was a big synagogue across the street from the house of my grandfather Geifman. We, kids, used to peep in there, but we were chased away. I think it functioned until the beginning of the war. The rabbi lived in a small house near the synagogue. There were many Jewish people living in this town. But the majority of the population were Ukrainian, of course.  But they all got along very well. I don’t know what Jewish people were doing for a living. I remember that Zukheli, our neighbor was dealing with salvage materials, and Pesia Harbat, our distant relative, was selling dried fruit at the market. I loved visiting her when I could eat dried apples from her bowls. Before Pesah people got together at Pesia’s place to bake matsa. There wasn’t much of it but it was fresh. Fried eggs with matsa were very delicious. They washed and cleaned all kitchenware and dishes before holidays.  Once there was a wedding at Pesia’s place, but I only remember the huppah, a very beautiful bride and a very beautiful ritual. There were about 150 people and there was a lot of noise and much fun. Pesia lived across the street from the market. Intelligentsia – dentists, attorneys, etc. – had their houses closer to the central part of the town.

I didn’t know any Yiddish. My grandparents spoke Yiddish, their Russian was poor, but they only spoke Russian with me. Although my mother worked in a Jewish kindergarten we didn’t have any Jewish books at home. We had many books by Russian classical writers. I learned a little Yiddish when I was visiting my uncle Petia in his village: they only spoke Yiddish in his family.

I went to school in Kiev. I went to a Ukrainian school (there were no Jewish schools at that time). My Ukrainian was so fluent that I even wrote poems in Ukrainian. I wrote a big poem dedicated to the anniversary of Taras Shevchenko (a famous Ukrainian poet) and recited it at a contest. I was awarded with an album and paints, although I couldn’t paint at all. There were about 30 pupils in our class. All boys (except 2 boys) were Jews, and only two of the girls were Jews: Ronia Lipshits and Olia Olgar. But we were all friends. We celebrated holidays together. Our school was located in the pre-revolution high school building. And our teachers were all former teachers in this school, all professionals, we learned a lot from them. There were no Jewish teachers among them. I was reading a lot at school. My mother and I shared one room. To be able to read at night I made a special lamp with a cap. I was also fond of photography. I also learned to play a piano for a year. She hired a teacher, but she couldn’t afford to buy a piano. I had classes at her kindergarten when the children were asleep, but it wasn’t very convenient and I gave up.

In this Jewish kindergarten where my mother worked, they taught children to read and write in Yiddish. I learned to write my name in Yiddish. I studied well at school and actively participated in the school life. I attended a history, drama and literature clubs and was head of the Kosomol unit of our class and a member of the Komsomol district committee that was great recognition for a schoolboy. I also edited our school newspaper and conducted political information sessions. In 1939 Western Ukraine joined the Soviet Ukraine and there was a parade in Kreschatik, the central street in Kiev. There were representatives of these regions wearing bright Ukrainian folk costumes.

In Fania’s family and in our family we only celebrated the Soviet holidays. However, my mother and Boris used to sing Jewish songs during these celebrations. The father of my best friend Misha Gorokhovskiy, was a carpenter. Hs Russian was very poor, but still, they didn’t have anything Jewish in their house.

In summer, besides visiting my uncle Petia, I went to pioneer camps in the outskirts of Kiev. Life was interesting there: contests and competitions, etc. We used to make a fire: it took a while to get prepared to make it high and remarkable. It happened in the evening when we all got together. Sitting around the fire we sang songs. 

In the higher secondary school my classmates and I got very fond of Western European dances. I went to a dancing club and learned to dance waltz, tango, rumba and foxtrot. My dream was to become a cameraman or producer. We were also fond of football. We went to the cinema.  “Chapaev” (a legendary Red Army commander, 1917-1923) was film #1 for us. We watched it for so many times and knew every word pronounced by our favorite characters. They also showed anti-fascist films. I remember the movie “Jew Zuss” (after a novel of the famous German writer Lion Feuchtwanger). But such films disappeared from the screens after execution of Non-aggression Pact with Hitler in 1940.

In 1940 our school was turned into a military hospital for the wounded from Finland, and we went to another school and had classes on the 2nd shift. My cousin Grisha, uncle Israel’s son, participated in the Finnish campaign. We held our patriotic spirits high, regardless of repression in the 30s. Fania’s husband Boris used to talk to me about the repression. He was critical and tried to explain things to me.  I don’t think I understood much about his stories.

My father’s comrades fell victims of repression. One of them, Anatoliy Illich Zamoschin ( his real name was Tulo Goldfarb) was like a father to me, he often visited us and helped my mother about the house and helped me with my classes. He was member of the Communist Party and held high official positions. His latest position was Executive director of the Communal Bank. Once he came late at night and told us that they were going to arrest him the next day. I pretended to be asleep but I heard the conversation. He was summoned to come to NKVD (People’s Commissariat of Internal Affairs) and offered him to write a report on his deputy. Zamoschin refused and was arrested at the following night. His wife Klara (the wife of the enemy of the people) was sent to Siberia for ten years. She never returned and we never heard from her. Zamoschin returned in the 50s after the general amnesty after Stalin’s death. He had two legs amputated in Kolyma. We didn’t communicate with him during his exile – it was dangerous. But after he returned I often visited him. He brought few note-books with his poems from exile. All his poems were extremely patriotic, with Stalin an idol and Khruschov too, after rehabilitation. He never talked about the horrors of his life in the camp. I don’t know whether it was because he didn’t want to influence me, or was it because he thought that everything was correct.  He received an apartment and was restored in his Party membership.  But he only enjoyed 3 or 4 years of freedom. He died from the infarction. I took the responsibility to bury him, and I washed his dead body. I lost a very close and devoted person who sincerely loved me. I would have considered him my godfather if we were of the Orthodox faith. But as we are not I don’t know who he was for me. He said on the grave of my father that my father’s son would always be his son. And he kept this promise. He didn’t have his own children.

Vornovitskiy, another friend of my father, a Jew, was arrested. He was Kiev NKVD Deputy Prosecutor. In 1937, long before his arrest he went on business trip to Zhytomir.  Among others, he happened to interrogate his comrade from their partisan unit, also an officer. They recognized each other. Vornovitskiy told my mother later that the only thing he could do for his combat comrade was to let him sleep right in the office where the interrogation was to take place.  He brought him some food and cigarettes on the next day. That was all he could do for him. This comrade of his was soon executed, and Vornovitskiy was arrested. Many people around were arrested and executed, but it had nothing to do with nationality. There was no anti-Semitism then, and one could hear the word “zhyd” only from a drunken man at the market.

During the War

Our attitude towards the Germans was negative. On 22 June 1941 there was to be the opening ceremony for a new stadium in Kiev for 50 000 seats. I had tickets to the opening ceremony. They had crossed out the name of Kossior 4 (he was one of organizers of this ceremony and his name had been printed at the invitation tickets before his arrest) on the tickets.

On 20 June (Saturday) we went to the Circus. Eddy Rozner jazz band gave a concert there. They came from western parts of the country. After the concert we walked a while, and early in the morning I was woken up by the sound of antiaircraft guns. At first we decided that this was some kind of training, but then we saw German airplanes. At 12 o’clock in the afternoon there was an announcement on the radio. Boris was mobilized immediately. Fania and her children evacuated in June. Her daughter left a little chocolate Bunny. I and  my relative Dina were in two minds whether we should eat it or not. Decided not to touch - after all soon all will be finished, and evacuated returned. That we will say Firochka? We left it there in the cupboard.

On 6 July (I hadn’t reached 18 then) I was summoned to the recruiting office. Soldiers were marching from Kiev. I had a small backpack and my mother put few cookies and a jar of jam into it. Neither of us cried – we were sure that this was going to end in a month or two and I would be back. We went to the left bank of the city where we were supposed to board a train.  But there were bombing and no trains. We walked another 150 km to the town of Yagotin. We didn’t receive any uniform and my shoes were all torn. I walked almost barefooted. We got meals on our way, but we also begged food from the local farmers, they felt sorry for us and gave us whatever they could. We got few spades on our way and tried to entrench ourselves during bombings. From Yagotin we went to Donbass by train. We were divided into small groups and sent to various areas. I came to the town of Khartsizsk. Being a big patriot I agreed to go to work in the mine at first, but then after my first try I refused to work there. It was too hard work for a town guy. We all went to work at a local collective farm. It was a former German colony. The Germans, being probable fascist accomplices, were removed to the Urals. We lived in their houses and harvested what they sowed. I received a letter from my mother. I assured her to stay in Kiev, as our army would never leave the city (although I didn’t even hold any weapons in my hands). My mother was evacuated as a widow of a red partisan in one of the last trains in September 1941 5. My mother was evacuated to the Northern Caucasus, to a collective farm. She was physically strong and worked at the poultry yard.

At the end of autumn we were dismissed, I obtained my documents and went to join my mother. Somehow I managed to reach the village where my mother lived. When I got to the village the first person I saw was my mother’s friend from Novograd-Volynskiy. She almost fainted when she saw me. I did look terrible – hungry, shabby and dirty. She only shouted “Rosa! Come here but stay calm!” And my mother cried out “Fimochka!” from her house, even not seeing me.

I stayed at this collective farm until February 1942, when the recruiting office sent me to the Makhackala Military Infantry College. It was located in 60 km from Tbilisi. Upon graduation from it 588 of 600 cadets finished it in the rank of junior lieutenant, and only 12, including me, finished it in the rank of lieutenant. I was sent to Tbilisi, to the Vinnitsa Military College that was in the evacuation there. I was to be a platoon leader. I was supposed to teach cadets all subjects except for political information.  I went to the General to introduce myself and when he saw me I could read in his eyes “Well, this must be the end of Russia”. I presented a poor sight: I was short and thin and looked pale… and the one to be a lecturer at their school. But in due time I managed to gain authority at their institution.

Before we finished the full course we were given automatic guns and sent to the 4th Guards Kuban Cavalry Corps. That’s how I, Efim Geifman, turned into a Kazak cavalryman (Kazak – people in the Southern part of Russia, bordering on Ukraine. They live in villages. Their men breed horses and master the art of cavalry. They make brave, courageous and masterful cavalrymen).    They recruited people from the surrounding Kazak villages in this area to form the Corps. There could be a father and a son or an uncle and his nephew in one and the same unit.  Their attitude towards me was good. Perhaps, my knowledge of the Ukrainian language helped me. I had problems with riding a horse. Once, at the very beginning of my service the commanding officer ordered me to deliver a package to the Division Headquarters, located in 30 kilometers from our place. A mature master Kazak was to accompany me. We started in a trot, the most difficult pace for the horse and the rider.  Trot is a specific running pace, where the rider has to rise in his saddle to ease the horse. On our way the Master Kazak was giving me instructions regarding the riding techniques. When I got off the horse my legs were a pair of compasses and I was all sore. Only then I realized that this ride was my horse riding lesson. After that trip I stayed in bed for a couple of days but I never had any riding problems any more. In total I rode four thousand kilometers from 1943 before 1945, from Mozdok to Hungary, we freed Europe from fascists. At the time of tanks and aircraft the cavalry existed for a break-through in the army. We broke into the rear of the enemy, participated in the raids in the vicinity of Odessa and Taganrog. We advanced for a 100 km into to the rear of the enemy.  

For the first time I read about the Babiy Yar 6 in newspapers at the front. In spring 1944 we were relocated from Odessa to Belarus. Fania was in Kiev then and my friend and I willfully ran away to Kiev. I met there my classmate Dunia Radchenko. Before the war she and a very pretty girl Ira Mikhailovskaya lived in the same apartment. Ira and her mother (an actress) went to the Babiy Yar and Dunia was seeing them off. Dunia and I went to the Babiy Yar. I saw its sands and ravines for the first time. I have been to this place many times after the war, but I’ve never participated in any meetings. I became a member of the Communist Party when I was 19, and I feel no regrets about it. I was not just a member of the Communist Party; I was a convinced and educated Communist. Only now I realize how powerful the propaganda was.

I was wounded for the first time in the vicinity of Slutsk. But that was a minor injury. I was wounded for the second time in Transylvania, in the vicinity of Debrezen on 10 October 1944. I was sent to a hospital in the rear with my wounded leg and discharged in April 1944. I was sent to Germany to finish my service term. I had restriction of grade I for military service. Restriction of grade I is the last stage before invalidity. I could only walk with a stick and stuttered for some time. My hearing hasn’t restored up to date. In Germany I served in Dresden commandant office for two years and a half. I learned conversational German soon. I was Head of Department in the Commandant’s office. My position was industrial engineer-controller. Each department was responsible for some industry. My responsibility was optics and fine mechanics. First came disassembly – they were transporting all equipment to the Soviet Union and then it was required to fix the production process. The manufactured product was part of the reparation (reimbursement of losses to the winners). The Germans were giving cameras, fabrics, typewriters, etc. The Soviet Union sent food products to Germany. In 1946 they had problems with food and we were supporting them.  

In Dresden I married Galina Karabanova, a Ukrainian girl from Kiev. She was given birth in 1923 in the village near the Kiev. Her parents worked in the agriculture. Galina and her senior sister Katerina have arrived before the war in the Kiev to learn. Katerina finished a financial institute before the war, married, in 1940 gave birth son Kolia. During the war they were in evacuations, are afterwards returned and live in the Kiev. Katerina worked an accountant at the factory, presently it housewife, brings up a grandson. My wife’s parents have outlived war and died in 1960s in village Brovary, near Kiev. Galina had finished a financial college before the war. She stayed in Kiev during occupation and was taken to Germany in 1942. She fell ill and was put in a civil hospital near Dresden. After she recovered she became a cleaning woman in this hospital. She met a German anti-fascist girl. They listened to the news from Moscow, and then Galina sent this information to Ukrainians in a work camp.  On the eve of 1943 she was arrested and sent to the prison in Dresden. They beat her demanding to tell the names of the people she was in touch with. They sentenced her to death, but instead they sent her to the penal block in Ravensbruck. Penal prisoners had a target painted on the chest and on the back. One step aside was punished by shooting. Galina read a lot before the war. And in the camp at the end of a hard work day she retold these novels to prisoners. She enjoyed doing it. Her Czech friends had access to the card-files. They replaced her card with a dead person’s card and sent her to work at the Wolfen factory under a different name. This was a large chemical enterprise, a department of the Buchenwald camp. On 17 April 1945 the camp was eliminated and the people sent for extermination. She ran away on the way there and happened to get into the disposition of the Soviet army. She went trough an appropriate check up procedure and got a job in this same commandant’s office where I was. She was an accountant. We made friends with her and then got married. We returned to Kiev together in 1946. 

After the War

My mother returned in 1944. She had problems with coming back as one needed an invitation to return from the evacuation. When she returned Fania was already in Kiev. My mother went to the Prosecution Office to get back our room in the communal apartment. We moved into this room. My mother treated her daughter-in-law (she was not Jewish) very well, especially when she got to know what she had еще go through in the camp. We lived together for few years until we received our own apartment. When my mother turned 78 we moved to live together again. We were all in good terms. My wife’s mother was very religious. When she met me and heard that I was a Jew she said that all human beings were equal in the face of God.  She had another son-in-law that was Ukrainian. She called him the devil.

Because there was a war I didn’t receive my secondary school certificate - the archives were destroyed. So, I had to finish the 10th form in an evening school to get the certificate. After finishing it I entered Polytechnic Institute, extramural Department of mechanic equipment for metallurgical plants. I chose this department because I had already found a job related to this profession. I only studied three years at this Institute. It had to do with my family responsibilities, living conditions and my wife’s diseases. However, I was Head of a shop at the plant. I worked at this plant 30 yeas and was one of the best specialists.

Galina couldn’t find a job for a long time for the reason that she had been in the camp. The authorities didn’t trust her. They thought she had cooperated with the fascists. She decided to omit this fact when filling up application forms. This resolved the problem and she found a job of an accountant at a factory. She worked there all her life. Although my wife was very ill she decided to have a baby. Our son was born in 1948. We gave him the name Zhenia. We gave him my wife’s last name. Although I never suffered from any anti-Semitism I wanted to protect my son from any possible complications. My son wasn’t raised a Jew. However, he has many Jewish friends. My son the whole life knew that his father a Jew, he never this was not restricted and did not hide. With us vein my ma, which we always reminded of our origin, it little remembered Yiddish and sometimes prepared Jewish meal, stuffed fish, hen with prune, salad with cheese and garlic. Zhenia much liked a grandmother. He participated in making a film about the Babiy Yar, made by a famous producer Shlaen. Nobody in our family died in the Babiy Yar, but many people that I knew and loved before the war had gone there.

My wife died n 1998. My son studied in Kiev Cinematography Academy. He works as sound producer. He travels a lot to wherever he can get a job. He married a very nice Russian girl Natasha. They have a lovely daughter Lerochka. 

My Jewish identity is associated now with the Hesed. We get food and medications there. We can also get Jewish newspapers. I not mark Jewish holidays, therefore that not knows as is necessary this do. If invite in synagogue on holiday, with pleasure and interest there go. Regretfully, I have never been in Israel. It was impossible in the past. And now it would be too big an effort. It’s a pity, as I would love to see this country.

I never thought that leaving this country was a reasonable thing to do. My opinion is that nobody is waiting for us there. My cousins live in the United States, but I believe that one has to live and die where one was born.

Glossary

Efim Finkel
Chernovtsy
Ukraine
Interviewer: Ella Levitskaya
Date of interview: November 2002

Efim Finkel and his second wife Galina Maslakova live in a two-room apartment in a new district in Chernovtsy. Efim was severely wounded WWII. He was giving this interview staying in bed. He has been very ill lately and is confined to bed. Although it’s difficult for him to talk he insisted that we met. He wanted his story to be the remembrance of his family that was shot at the very beginning of the war. Efim is a tall slim man with a thin face and a kind smile.  One can tell that he is a very kind and soft man.  добрый и мягкий человек. Their apartment is modestly furnished, but it is very tidy and cozy. Galina is very fond of room plants of which she has many. Galina takes good care of her husband and keeps a Jewish atmosphere in the house.  When I came she was reading a prayer book in Russian and had another one in Hebrew on her desk. She often reads to Efim.  They both believe that they were very lucky to meet each other, even though it happened at the end of life. One can feel a warm and loving atmosphere in the family. 

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War 

Glossary   

My family background

Both my mother’s and father’s families came from Razdelnaya village, Odessa region, [80 kms from Odessa]. When a part of Russian territories was given to Romania in 1918 1 Razdelnaya became a village on the very border with Romania. There were about 900 families in Razdelnaya. The majority of the population was Russian and Moldavian. Moldavians lived an isolated life and most of them were farmers: they had vineyards and kept sheep. All residents wore plain clothes. Moldavians looked different wearing sheepskin hats even when it was warm. The Jewish population constituted one third. Jewish families mainly resided in the central part of the village. Few Jewish families were involved in agriculture. They grew wheat for sale and kept livestock. Families of former soldiers of the tsarist army or their children had bigger plots of land. Service in the army lasted 25 years, but after it was over the tsarist government gave them lands and the right to sell alcohol or a tavern, etc. Other Jewish families owned small stores where they were selling essential goods, but the majority of Jewish population was involved in crafts: shoemakers, harness makers, tinsmiths and blacksmiths. They didn't have big earnings and lived in the central part in villages where they had little land near their houses. This was just sufficient to have a small kitchen garden to grow greeneries and some potatoes. Some families had a small chicken shed in their yard. They bought food products from Russians and Moldavians at the market. However, most families had food products delivered to their homes: dairies, chicken, eggs and vegetables. There was a shochet in Razdelnaya. When the shochet slaughtered  a calf or a cow he notified Jewish families in advance to to buy meat from him.  There were no conflicts of national character. There were no pogroms either 2. There was one big two-storied synagogue and cheder beside a Christian church in the central square in Razdelnaya. On Saturday and on holidays Jewish families dressed up and went to the synagogue. They took older children with them. Women prayed on the 2nd floor and men prayed on the 1st floor. There was no established Jewish community in Razdelnaya, but people were helping and supporting one another. Women volunteered to make the rounds of Jewish houses to collect money for a dowry for a poor Jewish girl or for a funeral. Wealthier families supported poor Jews giving them food and clothes on Sabbath and Jewish holidays and inviting them to have a meal in their houses. Lonely old people were also taken care of. This was done from desire to help the less fortunate.

My grandfather on my father’s side Lazar – he used this name Finkel was born in 1860s. His Jewish name was Leizer. I don’t know anything about his family. My grandmother Etia Finkel was born to a poor family with many children in 1865. My grandmother’s father was a craftsman, but all he earned was enough just to make ends meet.  Three of my grandmother’s brothers moved to the US in 1910s when they were in their teens. They didn’t correspond with the family. This is all I know about my grandmother’s family. I’ve never seen any of my grandmother or grandfather’s kinship.  I don’t know how my grandmother and grandfather met. I know that they had a traditional Jewish wedding.  My grandfather worked for landlords during sowing and harvesting seasons. During the rest of the year he repaired agricultural tools. My grandmother was a housewife. They lived in a small house made from shell rock, standard construction material of that period in Odessa region.  They rented this house with two rooms and a kitchen. They couldn’t afford to build a house of their own: land and construction materials were too expensive. Therefore, most of families rented houses. I don’t know how much they had to pay for rent.  There was a small backyard with a summer kitchen, a shed and a toilet in the far end of the yard. There was no kitchen garden or flower garden near the house, since there was very little space because the houses were closely built. They only had most necessary furniture. Grandfather made some pieces of furniture: stools, wooden beds and shelves. There were two stoves in the house: one in the kitchen and one in a room. They stoked stoves with wood since coal was expensive.

My grandparents spoke Yiddish at home and Russian – to their non-Jewish neighbors. They got along well with their neighbors. On Saturday their neighbors came to their house to help light alamp or stoke the stove. They had six children: three sons and three daughters. Benesh, the oldest, was born in 1888. The next one – Borukh was born in 1890. Then came two daughters: Khona - in 1892 and Reizl - in 1893. In 1896 my father David was born. His younger sister Khaya was born in 1899.

All boys studied at cheder in the synagogue. They went to cheder at 6. They studied Hebrew, Yiddish, Torah and Talmud. Girls had teachers at home from 7. I don’t know any details. My grandparents were religious. They went to synagogue on Saturday and Jewish holidays. On weekdays my grandfather prayed at home. My father told me that when grandfather left home for work for a longer time, some days, he took his tallit and tefillin and prayed every morning and evening. When he didn’t have an opportunity to come home on Sabbath he joined some Jewish family for celebration. Grandfather wore a kippah at home and a hat to go out. My grandmother wore a kerchief. I don’t know whether she had a wig. Both of them wore plain clothes. My grandmother always wore a long skirt and a long-sleeved blouse.My father’s parents celebrated Sabbath and all Jewish holidays at home. My grandmother had a bronze candle stand from her parents. She lit candles on Friday evening. My grandmother made challah  for Saturday even when they were sold in bakeries. They celebrated all holidays following all rules. At 13 my father had Barmitzva ritual as well as his older brothers. The family fasted at Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Children fasted from the age of 5 full day, ‘from the evening star to next one’. This is all my father told me about celebrating holidays in his family.

My father didn’t tell me much about his childhood. He was very busy at work and didn’t like to be distracted.
Boys studied crafts after finishing cheder. When sending their childrento study a profession their parents usually took their wishes and desires into consideration. My father’s older brother Benesh became an apprentice of a tinsmith. Borukh became an apprentice of a carpenter. My father became an apprentice of a blacksmith. All these craftsmen were Jewish.  Jew Moshe Perelman, a tinsmith, lived not far from my grandparents’ home. He was a big, tall and strong man. He owned a forge and his two sons were helping him with his work. He always had 2 or 3 apprentices. My father said that he admired his strength and skillfulness and wanted to be like Moshe. My father asked his parents to let him study this profession. My father was an apprentice for two years. His father didn’t pay for his studies, but my father didn’t receive any payment for his work either. He was provided with meals, though. The blacksmith’s wife cooked for all of them and apprentices had meals with Moshe’s family. On Saturday the forge was closed. Upon finishing his training my father stayed in the forge as an assistant. Only in four years’ time my father began to work independently, they worked parallel. Though he stayed at Moshe’s forge since his parents didn’t have enough money to open a forge for my father – Moshe paid him for his work. My father worked at Perelman’s forge his whole life. He was a skillful blacksmith and had many clients. At that time a blacksmith had to do many things: horseshoe or fix a broken axle in a cart and make all kinds of household things like a door catch or a plough or harrow. After the revolution in 1917 3 the forge was nationalized 4. Moshe, the owner of the forge died and my father and Moshe’s sons worked there and received wages that were lower than then in the past.

My father’s sisters Khona and Reizl got married before the revolution. They married Jewish men, of course that were proposed to them by matchmakers. Khona married Shwartzman, a miller from Belgorod-Dnestrovsky, 50 kms from Razdelnaya and moved to her husband’s home. They had two children, Moshe and David. Khona was a housewife. During the Great Patriotic War 5 Khona’s husband and older son perished at the front. Her younger son was very ill and didn’t go to the army. Khona and her younger son perished in summer 1941, during occupation of Belgorod-Dnestrovsky by Germans.
 
Reizl married a tailor from Belgorod-Dnestrovsky shortly after Khona’s marriage. Reizl got some training in sewing before she got married and assisted her husband. They didn’t have children of their own and adopted an orphan  – son of a distant relative of Reizl’s husband. Reizl and her husband loved their adoptive son dearly. During the war Reizl’s husband perished at the front. Reizl and their son was shot by fascists. Germans shot many Jews in Belgorod-Dnestrovsky.

All of my father’s brothers and sisters, but Haya had traditional Jewish weddings before the revolution of 1917. Haya had a secular wedding in the yard of their house. She invited all her village friends regardless of their nationality.
My father’s younger sister Khaya married a Jewish man from poor family from her village after the revolution. I don’t remember his name. Haya’s hsband wasn’t religious. Her family didn’t observe jewish traditions. He was an active Komsomol member 6, and Komosmol struggled against religion. Komsomol sent him to study in Belgorod-Dnestrovsky and then – at an institute in Odessa. Khaya and her husband lived in Odessa. Khaya finished an accounting school and worked as an accountant at a mechanic plant. Khaya and her husband had two children Aron and Rose.

During the Great Patriotic War Khaya’s husband was at the front. He was wounded several times and died shortly after he returned from the war – in 1946. Khaya and her children were in evacuation in the Ural where the plant she worked at was evacuated. Her son was recruited to the army in 1943. Later Khaya received a notification that her son was missing. After the war Khaya and her daughter returned to Odessa. I didn’t hear from them since then. Khaya died in 1979.

My father’s brothers also got married and had children. Benesh, his wife and their three children emigrated to Palestine in 1920s. My grandparents’ family didn’t keep in touch with them since it was not safe to correspond with relatives from abroad at that time 7. I have no information about them. Borukh, his wife Rakhil. and son Leib, that was a child then, moved to Limanskoye village not far from Razdelnaya. Borukh was a carpenter before the war. During the war he volunteered to the front where he was wounded. His wife and son were in evacuation in the Ural. After the war Borukh returned to Limanskoye, where his wife and son returned from evacuation. He was a mechanic in a tractor crew.  He died in Limanskoye in 1970s. I visited them only once after the war after I demobi8lized from the army. I never saw them again and all I know about their life is what they described in their brief letters.

My father’s brothers and sisters were enthusiastic about the revolution of 1917. They came from a poor family and believed that they would have a better life in a communist country. After leaving their parents’ home they stopped observing most Jewish traditions. But they kept celebrating Jewish holidays as tribute to the old rules. I know very little about their life before I was born and my father didn’t tell me much. 

My grandfather died in 1931. He was buried in accordance with the Jewish customs. My father read a kadesh on his grave. My father couldn’t observe the mourning for 7 days since he had to go to work. 7 Only my grandmother could perform this requirement. My grandmother was shot by Germans at the very beginning of the war in 1941 when Razdelnaya was occupied by Germans.
My mother’s parents also lived in Razdelnaya. My grandfather Aron Mishulis was born in 1870s. My grandmother Leya Mishulis was approximately the same age as my grandfather.  My grandfather told me that he grew up in the family with many children, but I can remember only his older sister Golda that died of tuberculosis in her teens. My mother was named after her. I don’t know any of my mother’s relatives My grandfather Aron was a tailor. My grandmother was a housewife. They had a house. The biggest room in the house was my grandfather’s shop. There were 3 more rooms: my grandparents’ bedroom and two children’s rooms – one for the sons and one of my mother’s. There were few fruit trees near the house. They fetched water from a well. I don’t remember any details of their life – it was so long ago. My grandparents had three children: their older son Velvl,  was born in 1894. During World War I Velvl volunteered to the tsarist army and died of typhoid in hospital in 1915. My mother Golda was born in 1897 and my mother’s younger brother Gersh was born in 1899. In 1917 Gersh emigrated to Argentina and we didn’t have any more information about him.

My mother’s parents spoke Yiddish in the family. They spoke fluent Russian with their non-Jewish neighbors. My mother’s parents went to synagogue on Saturday and on Jewish holidays. They celebrated Sabbath and Jewish holidays. My mother’s brothers went to cheder and my mother had a teacher at home to teach her to write and read in Yiddish and Hebrew. I know no details. My grandfather trained my mother to sew and she assisted him in his work after she turned 14. After training my mother worked with her father – he cut fabrics and she sewed clothes. My grandfather didn’t make much money and the family couldn’t afford much, but they had sufficient to make their living. I remember my grandmother and grandfather. My grandfather was a comely man of average height. He had a small well-groomed beard. My grandfather wore a kippah and a casual black hat when going out. My grandmother was a short and rather fat woman. She wore long dark gowns and a shawl. She was a very kind person and loved my brother and me dearly. She always had caramel candy for us in her pocket. 

My maternal grandmother and grandfather perished during the German occupation of Razdelnaya. Germans shot them along with other Jews of the town in August 1941.

My parents knew each other since childhood. They were neighbors. My father proposed to my mother in 1916 when he turned 20. He was a blacksmith at that time and could provide for the family. My parents got married in 1917. Their families were religious and my parents had a traditional Jewish wedding. My grandfather Aron made a wedding gown for my mother and a black suit for my father. The rabbi conducted the wedding ceremony. My father’s family from Belgorod-Dnestrovsky came to the wedding. They had a wedding in summer and there were tables for the party along the street – many Jewish and non-Jewish guests came to greet the newly weds. 

After the wedding my parents lived with my mother’s parents. Both families gave them some money as a wedding gift and my father bought a small shabby house for this money. My father and his brothers removed this house and built a new one from rock shell. My parents moved to their new house before I was born. I was born on 18 February 1920. My brother Boris which name was he called – Boria,  was born in 1922. His Jewish name is Borukh.

Growing up

We lived in our house until the war. There were 3 rooms and a kitchen in the house. My parents had a bedroom and my brother and I shared one room. One room served as a living room where the family got together to celebrate Sabbath and Jewish holidays. This was the biggest room. We had only the most necessary furniture in the house: a table, chairs, wardrobes and cupboards and steel beds.  The only books we had were my father’s religious ones. There was a stove to heat the rooms. Winters in Odessa are mild and rock shell kept the warmth in the house. There was a well and a shed in the backyard. My mother had flowers planted around the house. My parents didn’t have a kitchen garden or livestock. Razdelnaya was a big village and farmers grew everything necessary that was sold at quite affordable prices at the market. There also was a big market in the neighboring village of Limanskoye. There was fish sold there and my mother always bought fish for Sabbath or other Jewish holidays. There was a shochet in the village and my mother had chickens slaughtered by him.

My mother spoke Yiddish and Russian with us. I was a naughty child and my mother had to punish me every now and then: she would give me a spank or tell me to stand in a corner for misbehavior.. My brother was a quiet and obedient boy. Our father was always busy with his work and mother worked a lot about the house. They couldn’t spend much time with us and I often visited my father’s parents. My grandparents only spoke Yiddish I liked to spend time with my grandfather Lazar that taught me many things: he told me Biblical stories and about Jewish traditions. Our grandparents often took my brother and me to the synagogue with them. When I turned 5 my grandfather made an arrangement with the rabbi to teach me Torah at home. I stopped my studies with the rabbi when I was 8 years old. My brother didn’t study with the rabbi – I don’t remember why. My grandfather was very proud of my successes. He appreciated it very much that I asked traditional questions during seder in Hebrew.
I remember the period of struggle against religion 8, but that didn’t make our parents atheists.   They went to the synagogue on Jewish holidays. They didn’t always celebrate  Sabbath since Saturday was a working day during the Soviet period and there were no exceptions for Jews.  Sometimes our father had to stay longer at work on Friday and we waited for him to return to begin celebrating Sabbath. My mother bought challah for Saturday at a Jewish bakery. On Friday morning she started making food to last for two days. She made Gefilte fish and chicken broth with farfelekh: little dough balls. She also cooked cholent with bullhead fish, (a small fish in the Black Sea). Mother put bullheads at the bottom of a ceramic pot, added potatoes, onions and spices and put the pot in the oven where it remained until the next day. When mother took the pot out of the oven on Saturday afternoon the cholent was hot and we could eat fish with its bones since they became very soft.  On Friday evening mother covered the table with a white tablecloth. There was challah bread and a silver saltcellar on the table. My mother put on a fancy dress and a shawl. We said a prayer in Yiddish.  Mother lit candles and we prayed for health and wealth of our relatives. On death anniversary of our relatives we also said a remembrance prayer. After the prayer we pronounced ‘Sabbath Shalom!’ dipped a piece of challah in salt and ate it. Then we took to a festive dinner. My father was always so busy that he couldn’t afford time to teach us. Our maternal grandfather Lazar taught us things.

We celebrated Jewish holidays. Pesach was the main holiday, of course. We began preparations in advance. Our father brought big bags with matzah from the Jewish bakery.  There was a special kosher, wine for Pesach at the synagogue that was brought from Odessa. My mother bought chicken and fish at the market in Limanskoye. There was a woman in Razdelnaya that grew geese for Pesach. She sold geese and geese fat with cracklings. All Jews bought goose fat from her. We liked matzah fried with goose fat. Mother also made delicious flour balls with goose fat. The house was thoroughly cleaned before Pesach. My brother and I were looking for pieces of bread or breadcrumbs walking the house with a candle. Breadcrumbs if found were to be burned. My mother had two boxes with Pesach dishes and tableware and utensils. Everyday dishes and utensils were taken to the attic for the period of Pesach celebration.  Mother made Gefilte fish, chicken broth with matzah and matzah and potato puddings. She also baked strudels, honey cakes and sweet pies. On the first day of Pesach my parents went to synagogue in the morning. My father’s parents invited us for dinner in the evening. Grandfather Lazar conducted the seder. I asked him traditional questions in Hebrew that the rabbi taught me. Grandparents kept the front door open for Elijah the Prophet to come in 9. There was an extra glass of wine on the table for him. My mother sang Jewish songs in Yiddish. She had a very beautiful voice.

Purim was a festive and merry holiday. Young people went from one house to another greeting Jewish families with Purim. Children in Purimspiel costumes made small performances. I didn’t participate in any performances. They got some money or treatments in every house. As far as I remember Purim was the only holiday when men could drink as much as they wanted and this wasn’t considered a sin. Only at Purim one could see a drunk Jew. People danced, sang and enjoyed themselves. At Purim my mother made hamantashen – triangle pies stuffed with poppy seeds and nuts and hexagonal flat cakes of the David star shape stuffed with jam. It was a tradition to treat friends and acquaintances to sweets. Children ran from house to house with trays with treatments that were called shelakhmones. When I had to take shelakhmones to our relatives I couldn’t help picking on them.

At Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we fasted for 24 hours. Children fasted since they reached the age of 5. It wasn’t easy for us but we didn’t break it. I always remember the sound of shofar at the synagogue.

At Chanukah our mother lit candles. We had a big Chanukah candle stand and our mother lit one candle every day. My brother and I were given some money at Chanukah. I spent this money buying sweets and sunflower seeds.

In 1928 I went to Russian secondary school – there was no Jewish school in Razdelnaya. I stopped my studies with the rabbi.  It was a school for boys. There were many Jewish children and few teachers at school. There was no anti-Semitism and no conflicts of national character. We didn’t ever care about nationality at that time. I became a pioneer at school. We were proud to wear red neckties and pioneer caps. I believed in communist ideas and bright future of our country.

In 1931 grandfather Lazar died. This was the first time I was at a Jewish funeral. Grandfather was lying on straw in the room. All furniture was taken out of the room. Grandfather was wrapped in white cerement. There was a new ceramic pot broken and broken pieces were placed on grandfather’s closed eyes. Before entering the room people took off their shoes. They sat on the floor crying for several days. I don’t remember exactly what was happening at the cemetery, but at the egress from the cemetery an attendant poured water on the hands of everyone leaving the cemetery. 

In 1935 I finished lower secondary school – 7 years. I went to a mechanic school after finishing secondary school. I had a technical mind and wanted to continue my studies.   We studied general subjects like in secondary schools and had professional training. We were trained to operate and repair tractors and combine units. I liked what we were doing. I finished mechanic school in 1938 with honors for successes in my study and was sent to a higher mechanic school in Teplitsa village in about 30 kms from Razdelnaya where I was to study for 3 years and could come home on vacations and holidays.

During the War

In May 1941 after finishing my 2nd year at school I came home on vacation. My brother studied at the trade school of Odessa mechanic plant after finishing lower secondary school. He lived in a hostel for free since it belonged to the plant in Odessa and was planning to come home for vacation when the Great Patriotic War began.

In the afternoon of 22 June 1941 Razdelnaya was already bombed by German planes.  We knew from Molotov’s speech on the radio at noon 10 that Germany attacked the Soviet Union. We knew about the war in Europe, but it seemed to be so far away from us. The German invasion was a nightmare for us. I cannot understand how it happened that Germany was pulling its troops and armaments to the border of the Soviet Union and nobody paid any attention to this. This couldn’t have been completed in one night!  The war took us unaware. We didn’t know what to do. There was confusion in Razdelnaya on the first days of the war. In few days mobilization began. I received a subpoena from the military registry office. All draftees were sent to Bolgrad in 70 kms from Razdelnaya where military units for the front were formed. Before I joined the army I had only held a rifle few times at military training classes in lower secondary school. We had high patriotic spirit. We were sure that the Soviet army was undefeatable and that the war would soon be over and we would win the victory. Stalin’s spirit was with us as a leader and he would lead us to the victory.

My parents stayed in Razdelnaya. There was no organized evacuation. People had to take care of themselves if they wanted to evacuate. My parents, grandfather Aron and grandmother Leya and my grandmother Etia were not going to evacuate. They saw no threat and didn’t feel like leaving their homes. They were not young any longer. In few days Germans occupied Razdelnaya, but I didn’t know this at the time.

From Bolgrad we moved to the town of Renie near the Romanian border.  We arrived there in the morning and at night we participated in combat action. I was in an artillery regiment. I was a loader and learned from others looking how they were doing it.  At first I was assistant of loading soldier, but in 2 days I had to load cannons myself since my trainer was killed.

Our artillery regiment was a part of 25 division. We moved from one front to another. Our artillery unit was the first in attacks and infantry followed us. It may sound strange, but I didn’t feel any fear during the combat action. It came after it was over when we remembered our comrades that were killed. We lived in ground houses that we made by ourselves. There was a field kitchen that made meals.

I wrote home, but never received answers since field mail was not that reliable. I thought it was because we changed locations so often and field mail services didn’t know where we were. I had no information about my brother. After the war I found out that he was mobilized from Odessa and served in infantry on another front.

I was wounded in my arm for the first time near Odessa in 1942. Nurses couldn’t evacuate me from the battlefield before it got dark. I lost a lot of blood. I was sent to a hospital in the rear. I had my forearm bone splintered with a bullet. The wound healed in a short time, but I had to stay in hospital until the bone grew together. I corresponded with my fellow comrades and returned to my military unit as soon as I was released from hospital. The injury did not change my attitude, I wasn’t more afraid in combats. 

I never wanted to join the Communist Party. At the front it was customary to write application to the party before a battle. I avoided it every time. Our political officer asked me why I didn’t become member of the Party and I replied that it was a big honor, but that I didn’t quite deserve to join the rows of communists. Later he kept asking me just as a formality and left without hearing the answer that he already knew. I never cared about politics and must have contracted my father's negative attitude to  the Party. I never faced any anti-Semitism at the front and my combat awards are direct evidence of this statement of mine. People were valued for their human nature at the front and nobody cared about their nationality. Among my front friends there were people of different nationalities, including Jews. Certainly, to observe the Jewish traditions at the front it was impossible, it even in a head did not come. In 1943 I was awarded an Order of the Combat Red Banner for courage Stalingrad [present day Volgograd] battles, I was awarded several medals during the war. 

In 1944 there came a turning point in the war and it was clear that we were close to victory. In May 1944 I was wounded on my head. I had injury of my cranium and was taken to a hospital in Tashkent, Middle Asia, 2000 km to the southeast of Odessa. Hospitals for severely wounded patients were located in the rear for safety reasons. I stayed in hospital until January 1945. I was demobilized after such severe injury. The war wasn’t over yet, but Odessa region was free from Germans. I decided to go home. I received a pass from the military registry office to go to Odessa. I didn’t have to pay any fares as a military. I had to change trains to get to my destination.  In March 1945 I came home, but there was nobody there. Our house was occupied by some people whom I didn’t know. Our neighbor told me that Germans issued an order for all Jews in Razdelnaya to come to the central square with their documents and clothes.  Jewish families were certain that they were going to be accommodated at some place. All Jews were taken out of the village and told to leave their belongings in a heap. Jewish men were ordered to excavate a large pit. They probably understood then that they were making a grave for their families. Later all Jews were shot and thrown into the pit. Some of them were still alive when the pit was backfilled. Our neighbor told me that the soil was stirring for quite a while after the shooting he saw it. There were German guards with guns watching the area and nobody could approach this location.  My parents, my mother’s parents and my father’s mother are buried in this grave.  My friends and my dear ones were buried there. I also got to know that my father’s sister and her children were shot in Belgorod-Dnestrovsky. Germans exterminated all Jews in towns and villages of Odessa region.

After the War

In few years after the war I began to work on having monuments installed in the areas of mass shooting. I wrote letters to the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Ukraine and to the Supreme Soviet. Most often I received indefinite answers – neither refusal, nor consent. I didn’t give up and there was a monument to the Jews exterminated in 1941 installed in Razdelnaya village of Odessa region in the middle of 1960th. There was an official unveiling of the monument, with official speech.

My family was gone and I didn’t hear from my brother. We met in 1946. He demobilized at the end of 1945. When my brother heard that our family had perished he took a warrant to Chernovtsy from a military registry office. His fellow comrade lived in this town and convinced my brother and his wife to go there with him. My brother got married before he demobilized from the army. His wife came from Russia. They met at the front. I have no information about her family. She worked as a shop assistant in Chernovtsy. My brother became a driver at a car pool office. Later he studied at the Road Vehicle Institute by correspondence and worked as production engineer at that same enterprise. He had a son Peter and a daughter, I forgot her name. His son and daughter graduated from institutes and became engineers. In 1990 my brother and his family emigrated to Israel. They like living there. Regretfully, my brother is very ill and needs a wheel chair to move – he has problems with his legs. We write letters occasionally. They have their own families and jobs and live separately. 

I couldn’t stay in Razdelnaya. I didn’t even try to take back our house – I knew that the sad memory of my parents would always be with me.  I went to Baku in 2500 kms from Odessa, the capital of Azerbaidjan where my fellow comrade lived. I couldn’t find a job in Baku. There were vacancies at oil deposits, but I couldn’t work there due to the injury of my cranium. I celebrated Victory Day on 9 May 1945 in Baku. This was the biggest holiday in my life. People laughed and cried, hugged and greeted each other. It was a happy sunny day. It seemed everything bad was behind us and there was nothing worse ahead of us. After Baku I went to Frunze in Middle Asia. I found the climate good and hoped to have more opportunities there.  I didn’t like it there and returned to Vinnitsa in Ukraine. I went to work as a mechanic at a car pool.

I met my future wife Olga Poliakova in Vinnitsa when visiting my acquaintances. We got married soon. She was Russian. Olga was born in Vinnitsa in 1916. Her parents were farmers. Olga finished Pedagogical Institute before the war. She worked as a primary school teacher. Teacher at primary school teaches all subjects but music and physical culture. During the war she was in evacuation in the Ural. Her parents died in evacuation. We had a civil ceremony and Olga took a double name of Poliakova-Finkel. In 1947 our only son Oleg was born.

In 1948 my brother wrote me that there was a vacancy at a car pool enterprise in Chernovtsy. I asked a job assignment to work there and got it.  We moved to Chernovtsy and I worked at the enterprise for 25 years before I retired. After we moved we lived with my brother and his wife in their small 2-room apartment. We stayed in one room and my brother and his wife lived in another. At leisure time we went to the cinema and theatre. My brother and I went to the Jewish theater. Sometimes our friends came to visit us.  In a year I received an apartment from the enterprise where I worked. My wife got a job at primary school. 

I liked Chernovtsy and its spiritual and cultural atmosphere. Jews had constituted half of population of Chernovtsy before the Great Patriotic War. I was told that there was a Jewish ghetto in the town during the war. Even after the war people that went through the horrors of the ghetto spoke Yiddish in the streets, went to synagogues and sent their children to the Jewish school. They were not afraid of showing their Jewish identity and found sympathy and understanding with people of other nationalities. Residents of Chernovtsy dressed in a nice fashionable manner. Men wore kippah at the synagogue only.  After the war there was one synagogue in Chernovtsy. There was a Jewish theater in the town attended by Jewish and non-Jewish intellectuals. 
There were no signs of anti-Semitism that was already felt in central parts of Ukraine. 

Unfortunately, I didn’t keep any Jewish way of life after I married a Russian woman that was also a convinced atheist. At first I attended the synagogue in Chernovtsy to have Kaddish said after my family, but gradually I began to get adjusted to my wife’s way of life. Jewish traditions were out of the question in our family. I am not a fighter, unfortunately. It was easier for me to give in than insist on my own ideas. I became a nobody – neither Jew nor Russian. Olga didn’t celebrate any religious holidays. Christian holidays were as far from her as Jewish. She was a typical Soviet person that was raised an atheist and I became like her. My brother didn’t keep any Jewish traditions. I don’t know whether it had to do with his wife or it was just the spirit of the time.

In 1948 struggle against cosmopolites 11 began. The Jewish school and theater were closed. All synagogues but one were closed. There were articles against cosmopolitans – traitors of their Motherland, published in newspapers. Many renowned Jews had pseudonyms and newspapers published their real Jewish names. There were anti-Semitic demonstrations in the streets in Chernovtsy - no, but there were newspaper publications about other places.  and accusations that Jews wanted the downfall of the USSR and betrayed their Motherland and its ideals.  Such things were said by those that moved to Chernovtsy after the war since native population was sympathetic with us. This was a fearful situation – the country that had suffered from fascism so hard came to fascist slogans said by its citizens. I was a worker and a very skilled one and this situation had no impact on me, but I thought that this was a preliminary stage before something much worse began – like an artillery preparation. 

The ‘doctors’ plot ‘12 at the beginning of 1953 proved my concerns to be true. It was directly said that Jews wanted to poison Stalin. Patients in clinics refused to accept medical services from Jewish doctors. I felt accumulating hatred to Jews with my skin. Stalin’s death on 5 March 1953 put an end to it. People were overwhelmed by a mass psychosis. They were crying and grieving after Stalin and called themselves orphaned. They couldn’t imagine life without Stalin. By that time my attitude towards Stalin changed. I understood that the war was so long and blood shedding because Stalin had exterminated so many military commanders in camps before the war and that we were duped by the Stalin’s propaganda convincing us that we were unconquerable. I had many other suspicions. ХХ Party Congress 13 changed my doubts into certainty. I believed that if Party leaders began to tell the truth from their high stand life might change to better. It took me few years to realize that I was wrong again. However, it seemed to me that anti-Semitism reduced in those years.  

We led a quiet life watching TV in the evenings. We bought our first TV in the 1960’s.  We only communicated  with my brother's family and our colleagues. It was not often. We invited them to our house or went to visit them. We celebrated birthdays in the family. My wife made a dinner and we had guests. We had a good time talking and singing Soviet songs. We didn’t celebrate Soviet or religious holidays at home and didn’t travel on vacations. We didn’t earn much and when we could buy our son  a vacation in a pioneer camp we were quite happy.

I think anti-Semitism grew stronger during the period when Jews began to move to Israel in 1967. Jews could hear people saying ‘Go to your Israel’ without any reason. It was a problem to enter a higher educational institution or find a job.

I didn’t think about emigration then, though I felt jealous about other families that were going there. At the beginning my wife took no interest in moving to another country. She was afraid of any changes and hardships of different life in another country. We were not wealthy, but we had everything we needed.

After perestroika began in 1980s our life became a lot worse, almost unbearable. Perestroika brought many positive changes: we understood that we could talk freely about what we were afraid even to think about – repression during the Stalin’s time, extermination of Jews and a lot more. There were books published and performances staged in theaters. Jewish life and culture were restored, but there were negative things, too. It became easier for young people to improve their life, but older people became impoverished. We were thinking of emigration in 1980s, but my wife became ill and we had to give up this idea. I didn’t feel strong enough to start life from anew. Besides, we didn’t have enough money to pay all expenses. And we stayed here.

I do not get along with my son. My wife decided that he would have his nationality written as Russian. She convinced me that in this way he would avoid many problems that Jews usually have. I agreed, but when my son grew older he began to demonstrate with his aloof attitude towards me, pretending that we were different people and that he only had his mother to rely on. I am afraid of saying this, but it seems to me he was ashamed of his Jewish father. Oleg had his mother’s last name: Poliakov. He finished a power college in Chernovtsy and went to work at the municipal power supply agency. When he began to work he married a Russian woman and went to live with her. He worked near our house, but he never dropped by when I was at home. I can remember only once that he came when I was here. He didn’t have hot water at home and came to take a bath.

In 1982 my granddaughter Elena was born. I was willing to spend more time with my granddaughter. My daughter-in-law brought her sometimes and called us every now and then. When Elena grew a little older she used to visit us. A couple of years ago when my son decided to go to Germany he took my last name and became a Jew in his documents. I do not understand Jews that move to Germany when Germans wanted to exterminate all Jews a short time ago, but I am afraid my son doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t care about the morals. All he wants is to have things to his benefit and easy life. My granddaughter didn’t want to go with her parents. She stayed in Chernovtsy. She will graduate from the university this year. I get along well with my granddaughter. She is not ashamed of having a Jewish grandfather.

I retired in 1983 when I reached the age of retirement. I was an invalid after my cranial injury and it was hard for me to work. My wife fell ill and was confined to bed. I looked after her. Olga died in 1991.

In 1992 when a Jewish community was established in Chernovtsy I met my second wife there. Galina Maslakova is Russian. She is very different from my first wife. She had a hard childhood. She was born in Ivanovo, an old Russian town, in 1936. Galina doesn’t remember her father. He went to the front in 1941 and perished at the very beginning of the war. Galina’s mother couldn’t provide for her daughter and gave the girl to a children’s home. After Galina finished a lower secondary school Galina’s grandmother on her father’s side took her to live with her. Galina didn’t have an opportunity to continue her studies.  She went to Donbass where she worked at a construction site and lived in a hostel. From there she moved to Chernovtsy.  She worked and studied at the housing services college in the evening. Galina got married in Chernovtsy. Her first husband Anchil Plunt was a Jew from Bukovina. He was 20 years older than Galina. They lived together for over 30 years. Her husband was very religious and observed all traditions. After they got married Galina learned all rules of the Jewish way of life and followed them willingly. She speaks fluent Yiddish. Galina’s husband died in 1970s, but Galina continued to observe Jewish traditions.  She celebrated Jewish holidays and Sabbath and studied Hebrew in Hesed. We got married in 1993. Thanks to Galina I returned to the Jewish way of life. We attend clubs and meetings and celebrations of Sabbath in Hesed. I am a member of the club of veterans of the Great Patriotic War in Hesed. We celebrate Jewish holidays at home. At Pesach Galina makes traditional Jewish food. She has special kitchen utensils for Pesach. Galina follows the kashrut. She and I fast at Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. When I was able to walk we used to celebrate Sabbath and Jewish holidays in Hesed and went to synagogue, but that’s not possible now. My wife and I often talk Yiddish, although I am more used to speaking Russian. Galina is a very kind and nice person. She takes care of me and I don’t feel old with her.  We live in Galina’s apartment. I gave my apartment to my granddaughter. I hope she will get married soon and I will see my great grandchild.  Hesed provides assistance to us. We receive food packages and medications and I have a doctor available at Hesed. My life is coming to an end and assistance from Hesed and my wife’s love and care make my life easier and nicer.

Glossary
1 During the Civil War in 1918-1920 there were all kinds of gangs in the Ukraine. Their members came from all the classes of former Russia, but most of them were peasants. Their leaders used political slogans to dress their criminal acts. These gangs were anti-Soviet and anti-Semitic. They killed Jews and burnt their houses, they robbed their houses, raped women and killed children.

Jak Rutli
Istanbul
Turkey
Interviewer:  Yusuf Sarhon
Date of Interview: May 2005

Jak Rutli is 86 years old, can be considered tall for his generation, has silver hair, is superior to Hollywood actors with his speaking manner and his good looks that have not lost anything with age, is a little firm-sweet in demeanor, and is an elder that I am very fond of.  He lives in Mecidiyeköy on a ground floor with his wife Ceni Rutli.  I have spent my childhood with him due to the fact that he is a friend of my parents.  This interview has provided me with the opportunity to see them again after long years and to rekindle my childhood memories.  Witnessing his humor and vigor despite his age and the illnesses resulting from his age also made me very happy.

My family background

Growing up

My wife Ceni Rutli

Family life

World War II and the Turkish Jews

Glossary

My family background

I do not know anything about my great grandparents, neither on my mother’s nor on my father’s side.  I don’t know what they did or what language they spoke.  I guess my father’s side spoke Yiddish, because my grandparents and parents spoke Yiddish.  My father spoke Russian and Arabic, too, so they might have spoken Russian too. 

My mother’s father was Sami Rozental.  His name in Yiddish was Zolmen but he was called Sami here.  He was from Romanian origins and he was very religious.  He lived 110 years and was very much respected by everyone.  According to what I was told by my mother, people would come to get his advice until his last days; in other words he was able to dole out sane advice even at the age of 110.  He was a very religious, honest and wise man.  Also as far as I know, my mother’s father emigrated to Egypt with my mother and the whole family, but that is all I know.  I don’t even know the name of my mother’s mother.  I have no information on that.

My father’s father was Yitzhak Rozental, and his roots are from Lithuania.  According to what I was told, he was born there, he lived there and he died there.  I was only 16 when my father died.  They must have lived through a lot but unfortunately I don’t know anything.  In our community [the Ashkenazi community] it was customary to name a child after a  dead person, they wouldn’t give a child the name of a person if that person was alive.  So if a grandfather is alive, the grandson is not named after him; only if he is dead.  So I got the name of my mother’s father.

They must have been working to earn a living but I have no idea what they were doing.  Maybe they were tailors.  I don’t know which languages they knew.  I think they spoke Yiddish.

I think my father’s father had a beard, I saw it once in a photo.  I don’t know in what kind of house they lived in or what kind of furniture they had.  What I do know is that my father’s father left their house in Lithuania and ran away.  Either when the Russians came or when communism came, in the 1875’s, I am not sure which, they left and ran away.  Before those years Lithuania was independent, but then the Russians came and they left.  My father went to Egypt but I don’t know if it was with his whole family or just him.  I don’t know what happened to his family.  I just know that my father went to Egypt, there he met my mother and they got married in Egypt.

My father’s mother’s name was Zelda.  My grandmother did not wear any wigs like the Orthodox ladies, she wore the clothes that were in fashion at the time.  They did wear hats though, they would never go out without a hat. 

My father told me that because the mothers were different, they had other daughters. My grandfather, my father’s father, lost his wife at a young age. She produced 2 children, my father and a sister, then she died young and he married another woman. I don’t remember the name.  And he arrived, Fritz arrived, a sister, I don’t remember the name, arrived. They all went to France, but they were cool in their relationship. The reason was probably because the mothers were different. 

We were closer with one because he was here, in Istanbul, Fritz Rozental.  He was born here, lived and died here. Fritz had two sons and one daughter.  Leon Rozenthal, Izi Rozenthal and Eni rozenthal. His wife was Klara, she was religious, she read books. She died too. Only Izi is left from his family and Leon’s son, Izel Rozental.

My mother stayed in Egypt for 10 years, they lived there, then they came here, later when my father died, and my older sister, having married a doctor, settled in Israel, she went with them and lived there.

My father was born in Lithuania. I don’t know but he probably went to highschool, he couldn’t do more because he ran away from Lithuania. My father spoke in Yiddish. He knew German and Arabic. My father spoke Yiddish in the family among themselves and their parents. They spoke in Arabic if they wanted to hide something from the children.
My father was a serious and hardworking person and a very, very good father.  He was especially very fond of his children. He was excessively fond of them. We, 5 kids, went to school at the same time. All the children attended school.  At the Saint-George school, and there was a Goldschmith school at the time. He educated all of us. He was so fond of us that, in summer we would go to the sea as a family. He would go into the sea, he would only allow us to go in until the water reached our knees, he would not allow us to go deeper, he was scared that we could drown. None of us learned how to swim because of this.  He did not allow us to eat green plums. If we drank water following that, we could get sick.

My father worked at Carlmann before he opened his own store. There was Sümerbank  in Beyoglu [the famous district in Istanbul, which used to be called Pera], a big building. That building was Carlmann’s. And 3 stories were ready-to-wear clothing. My father was a manager there. After that he opened his own store. He opened a female and male tailoring store. My father did tailoring to earn their living. My father earned well, he was a good tailor for women and men. During the war there was no sugar here, there wasn’t this or that but my father imported it from Russia in blocks. The ladies of the Pasha and his entourage brought it for him.

My father was tall. He had a bulging hat. At the time you had to pay a penny to cross Karakoy bridge [bridge across the Golden Horn]. They would stand at the ends of the bridge with coin boxes, they would charge one penny on one way and one penny on the way back. He sometimes took me too, we would cross the bridge walking. When he was paying the official, the other would say: “Can’t you see?  He is German”. That’s what he looked like, like a tall German.  He dressed well of course. Because he was a tailor, he dressed well, he did all the ironing. My father did not go into the military at first because he was a foreign national, a white Russian.  He became a Turk later on.

My mother was born in Romania. My mother went to Egypt when she was 2 years old, she must have gone to school there. My mother spoke Yiddish, she spoke German.  She knew Arabic too, she spoke Arabic with my father. I don’t know what she studied. She was married at 15.

The clothing of my mother was the modern clothing of the times. My mother was very good too, her only job was to raise the children. But she walked around with a whip in the house.  There was a pole, with leather strips on the end.  Because there were 6 boys, 2 boys in each room, the pillows would fly in the air. As if this were not enough, the 6 children of my father’s sister would also come to our house. My mother of course walked around with that whip and everyone was scared. But the house was always clean and my mother was always busy with cooking. She would cook for lunch in the morning, and for the evening in the afternoon. One meal would not be enough for both lunch and dinner. There were 8 people in the house, and Swartz, makes 9, you have to feed these.
In our family the one who went (shopping) to the bazaar was my mother, my mother did all the shopping. There weren’t any vendors or merchants that they especially bought from.

My mother and father met in Egypt, but how, I do not know.  My father had moved to Egypt, they met there and were married there. In Cairo. First my mom went there, she was 2 years old then.  She stayed there for 15 years.  Later my father came and stayed there for 10 more years. But I don’t know how they met.  Was it matchmaking, or was it not, I was not told. I only know that they were married in a synagogue in Egypt.
Our family’s financial situation wasn’t very wealthy, but it was good. He educated five children at the same time, a big house, plenty of good food, and going out, that means he earned well.

The house we lived in was big. It had 7-8 rooms. The children stayed two per room. There was no bathroom at the time. Houses with bathrooms were very rare, there weren’t any in Kuledibi.  The inside of the house isn’t like the ones today of course. There were sofas and armchairs, a china cabinet, the kitchen had a stove that worked with coal. The gas was coal gas piped into buildings then, there were no gas tubes. There were coal stoves for heating. We had continuous running water from the tabs. We did not have a garden, we lived in a flat. We had pets in the house, we had a cat, its name was Pamuk(Cotton).  It lived with us for 25 years. We did not have helpers like servants, maids, nannies, au paires or laundry women. We only had a woman who came once a week.

We always had books in our house.   My older brothers had books, magazines, for example, there was Stern. There were a few religious books but we did not read them, my father did. My parents liked reading, but my father read more.  My mother, even though she enjoyed it, did not have much time from struggling with the kids. A newspaper arrived to the house too. The French newspaper, Journal d’orient 1 would come. They did not have the habit of going to the library.

My father could be considered religious. He applied Passover, Purim, Rosh Ashana and Yom Kippur among the Jewish traditions. They observed kashrut.  Pork products, shrimp and such would not enter our house. He even had different tableware served during Passover.  There were special plates for Passover.  Also my father did not like small plates, he liked to eat in big plates. There would be holiday celebrations in the house. We would go to relatives, they would come to us. My father went to the synagogue every Friday and Saturday. My family was a member of the Jewish community. My father had active duties in the community. The tailors had built the Schneider Temple [the old tailors’ synagogue, which has now become an art gallery] at the time. Schneider means tailor. All the tailors built that synagogue and they were all members there.

My parents did not have political views, they were not involved with any party, or political, social or cultural organization.

When we lived in Kuledibi, we had Jewish neighbors. There was Cansberg, the  Deutchberg’s, there was one Matild Moskovic, she came every day to our house.  The women came. My father had friends too. There was Roustein, he was a watchmaker in Beyoglu. He was Russian too. They would go out together.

We did not go on trips much. But my father did not like to stay home.  He would go out in the evenings, on Friday and Saturdays. He even went out with so many children.

My mother stayed in Egypt for 10 years, they lived there, then they came here, later when my father died, and my older sister, having married a doctor, settled in Israel, she went with them and lived there.

My father is buried in the Jewish cemetery here, my mother’s is in Israel.
Of course there was a rabbi at the funeral, and he was buried with a religious ceremony, we recited the Kaddish. I do their yartzheits on the anniversary of their deaths. A letter comes from our community to remind us, even my older sister Zelda’s letter comes for reminder even though I did not even meet her. Our community sends out letters because we are few. 10-15 days before.

My mother’s sibling, I do not remember his name, he was a technical manager at the Rozental Bomonti beer factory.  I did not meet any other sibling, there probably was none.  This sibling had a son, Charles, and daughters, Fani and Rasel . Charles went to Buenos Aires with his father, later he went to Rio de Janerio. Fani married here with Albukrek. Rasel also married here with Jak Palombo and went to Israel.

My father’s sister was Ida. Her husband was Eliya Huves, he was a tailor too. We lived across from them in Kuledibi. They left for Israel too about 30-40 years ago.  They had 8 children, 5 boys and 3 girls.

He had one brother, Fritz. He also had siblings in France, his relationship was cool with them. I neither met them, nor do I have information about them.

We were 8 siblings. I do not know the birth year of Zelda.  When she died I was not born yet.  She died at 18 years of age.  When my mother came from Egypt, she came with 5 children. She rented a house here.  My father did not know about shopping, just like me.  My mother did it to the very end. One day my mother had to go out.  She had a neighbor who had a daughter. She said, leave,  I will take care of her.  My mother said, I will be back in 10-15 minutes, I am going to the grocer. My older sister was a baby then. Maybe one year old.  Apparently she sat her on a high stool, she fell from it, hit her head and was sick. She developed epilepsy. She would start trembling. My father and mother did not refrain from seeing every doctor.  There was no cure. She was fine then.  She was big then, she helped raise the children of all the friends. She was fine till 18 years of age, but she would be afflicted with this sickness from time to time with a doctor and she died at 18 years of age. When she died I was not born yet.

Robert, born in 1900.  When he was around 20-21 years old, there were Jews escaping Russia, most of them came here. A lot of Jews came at the time, Russians also came, even princes came, the princes of the czar and such would sell flowers in the streets. They escaped from Russia when communism came.  There was Hotel Gendermann in Kuledibi, Kücükhendek, the Russians settled there.  My older brother met a girl named Frima, Russian Jew, and he loved her very much and married. He was married in the hotel. I remember, there was music and I was 2 years old, they gave me a small chair and I played.  They left for the U.S.A. the next morning to live there.  He died there.  When he was here, he did brokerage.  He did commerce there too.  He had one son, I don’t remember the name. He divorced while he was there.

Moris Rozental, I don’t remember the date.  When his older brother left for the U.S.A. when he was 17, he said, why should I stay here, I will go to be with my older brother.  But they were not giving visas for the U.S.A. then. It was free until then.  You would buy a ticket and you would go.  He made an agreement with a man to go to U.S.A.  There were 8 more young people that this man made agreements with. They traveled by boat.  The trip probably took 15-20 days. Just when they arrived, they said you cannot go in.  He left all of them on an island there. They stayed there for 3 days, they ate bananas and so on there.  3 days later, when the checking was easier, he smuggled them into the U.S.A. illegally.  Later he went to my other older brother. He stayed there, he married there.  He had two sons, one daughter. Soli, Vili and Beti.  He stayed in New York for a while.  Later he found NewYork too noisy, he left and went to Los Angeles.  He stayed there. At one time he came here and I met Moris because I did not know him.  They came to our house in Caddebostan. With his wife and one son. 

Alberto Rozental said I will not stay here, either. I will go to Buenos Aires, to be with my uncle, he said.  Next to my mother’s brother. He went ahead and left.  I don’t know his birth date.  He registered my birth date as the 6th of May.  He stayed in Buenos Aires for 10 years then moved to Rio. He married in Rio with Bronya Rozental, he did not have children.  As far as I know, and from what my nephew in the United States tells me, he became very wealthy.  He would even tell in his letters “it is midnight, I am still working”.  He had a construction business and a factory for locks.  And he did constructions.  He worked very hard.  But when El-Al was newly founded, Motle Schneider was the first manager.  He was the best friend of my older brother Davit.  One day he left for Rio. He met with my older brother there.  On his return, he said “listen, I have seen a lot of houses but I haven’t seen one like your brother’s”.  He was that wealthy. Later on the letters ceased.  My nephew in the United States said that there was a rebellion.  The street where my older brother resided was the place for bigshots, rich people. They cleaned out everything.  I wrote to the community, I did not get any news.  His wife also did not answer.  Because they had nephews, it did not suit her, I was a brother.  She did not let me know so I would not inherit.  My nephew did not tell us anything, I think they killed him.  There was a riot against the rich, what they call a progrom in Rio. 

But when he was alive, the fourth son that is to say my fifth brother Charles who was here was dating a Catholic girl.  He was born in Egypt too.  He also said I will not stay, I will go to Rio too. He went ahead and left for Paris.  He did not have a visa for Rio. My older brother said you stay in Paris and wait, I will send you a visa.  Charles got a permit for 6 months, in the meantime, problems arose for the visa, he could not get it one way or the other.  Consequently he got engaged to a Jewish girl who was an acquaintance, he went to  the Prefecture de Police  (Police Station), saying we are engaged, we are getting married, and extended his permit for another 6 months. In this way he extended it for 3 years.  In the meantime he worked there, he did tailoring, ironing, he did commerce.  The purpose was to earn his living. 3 years later the French said you are not getting married and revoked his passport, took him to the embassy, and because he hadn’t done his military service, he became a fugitive soldier.  And they moved him out of border to Italy.  When he went to Italy, the visa for Brazil came to Paris in the end, but he couldn’t go and came back her with the police.  He disembarked  in Sirkeci with the police.   My father waited for him, gave the guy 10 bucks, and the police let him go.  He did not go to the military for 3 years. He stayed here.

Davit was born in Egypt in 1915.  He also studied here in Saint-George.  Later there was an important brokerage agent here, Davit Leon Farber, he worked there.  But then there was an even more important agent, Emu Mayer, who was one of the wealthiest in Istanbul.  This Emu Mayer was such a merchant that when he passed through  Aşirefendi with his horse-carriage, all the merchants stood up.  Because he was a good employee, he removed my brother out of his job and took him under his wing. He gave him double his salary.  It was a huge place, there were a lot of employees.  Later he also gave him his daughter. He married Berta Mayer.  He had one daughter, Nadya.  She died recently, she was in her 60’s maybe.  My older brother and his wife had previously died in Istanbul.  My brother died at 57 years of age.  He had a myocardial infarction, he died while he was on a trip to Germany. He traveled a lot.  He was here for one month, in Germany for one month, that is how his life was.  His grave is in Germany, we went to visit it previously.  The Jewish community there did not want to give him up.  The Grand Rabbi there did not want to give him up.  We talked on the phone, we will send him with cargo, we said, he did not give him up.  The Grand Rabbi was very powerful among the Jews after Hitler, the government did not get involved.  The Grand Rabbi said, according to our laws, we can only send him to Israel from here.  As you know, in our tradition, the funeral cannot wait too much, you have to bury within 24 hours.  At the time, Turkish citizens could not leave the country more than once a year. My older brother and I could not leave because our passports were not suitable.  The brother of Berta was an Italian national, we sent him to get the funeral and bring it, they did not give it up and he returned.  The Grand Rabbinate there sent pictures and this and that and placed the tombstone.  About 20 years ago we left and went to Munich and visited his gravesite.

Ida was born in 1917.  She also studied in Saint-George.  She grew up here.  Later we went to the military.  3 brothers, we were taken into the 20 military classes.2  My two older brothers and I.  They took my older brother Davit three times to the military.  We gave a petition saying my two older brothers are soldiers, I do not have a father, I take care of my mother and sister, allow me to stay till one of them comes back.  The answer arrived:  one of them is in the reserves, since it is not known when he will be released, we cannot allow it.  I did not go to the military but I was arrested in the street as a fugitive and went to the military. My mother and sister stayed alone. When they were left alone, my cousin Bernard, the one I said had made fruit leather, the son of my father’s sister, he owned a building in Kuledibi, he took in my mother and sister.  They stated there till my older brother came from the military. Later we came back too from the military, my sister was married. She married Sami Reytan.  They had one son and one daughter, they live in Israel. Hayim Reytan and Rita Reytan.  They each have two sons.  My older sister lives in a nice villa in Ramat Hasharon, only, her husband died.

Growing up
I was born on May 6th, 1919  in Kuledibi in Istanbul.  I was born on the street they called Kal de los Frankos (the synagogue of the Italians).  We lived in Kuledibi all through my childhood.

There were maybe 7-8 rooms in the house we lived in.  Stoves were used for heating and we had many stoves.  The name of our house was Kuledibi apartement.  There was the Levi apartement, Broth apartement.  There was electricity and running water.  There wasn’t a central heating system for staying warm then.

There was a hill down the street from our house. Today there is the Beyoglu hospital, before it was the British hospital.  Then there was Saint-George school and Saint-George hospital across it.  Behind it there was the Saint-George school for girls.

There was a coffeehouse around Kuledibi.  The manager there was a Jew named Menahem.  Every evening, the best known families of Kuledibi, there were the Broth’s, the Suraski’s, they would meet there with their families.  We would sit with my father and mother, my father enjoyed the suka.  We, the young children played together.  Every evening more or less.  Our neighborhood was very clean, there was everything but there wasn’t a hamam, there was one in the Persembe bazaar, one in Beyoglu, that’s where we would go.  I remember going to the hamam with my father, I was young.  My siblings would all go together, along with cousins, a lot of teasing went on.  There was a famous hamam in Sultanahmet, they would go there as a crowd and had wonderful fun.  I could not go because I was young.  The age difference was big.  I was two years old when my oldest brother got married.

My mother raised me, there was no preschool or such then, in addition, we did not have a nanny or an au paire.

I do not remember the period before school, we usually played at home.  My mother and father had close friends, the Frumkin’s and the Ruthstein’s.  We played at home with their children, child games probably.  They did not allow us to go out to the streets. I went to elementary school in Saint-George school.  This was an Austrian priests’ school.  It was with tuition.  My mother would prepare food for us for after school when we went to school, later we did our homework.  We even had a German teacher who came to tutor us, my older sister and me.  Later on, of course the siblings would come, my father would come.  There was the radio then, we would listen to the radio.  We would go to the coffeehouse in the evenings with my father after dinner.  Starting from the time of elementary school, we went to temple to take classes, together with the other children in the neighborhood, for 1-2 hours after school.  This went on till 13 years of age, after the bar-mitzvah, we quit.

When I was little, we would board the trolly with my mother, father and sister and go to Sisli. Last stop.  There we would go on a horse-carriage and go to Mecidiyekoy. At the time Mecidiyekoy was an orchard of mulberries.  You could rent a tree for 2.5 liras.  We would put a white sheet that we brought from home under it, shake the tree, the mulberies would fall and we would eat there till the evening.  There were Jewish families, Turkish families, they always came. Everywhere was an orchard of mulberries.  We would go to Altınkum again with my mother, father and sister, after Büyükdere.  There was a beach there and there were a lot of restaurants in front of the beach. We would eat in those restaurants, then swim in the sea and return in the evening.

Again when I was little, we would go to the movies on Sundays.  My father, mother, sister and I would go.  The other siblings were all much older than us.  They would go out with their friends, they were grown up.  There was Modern movie theater in Tepebasi.  There was a variety show before the movie here.  Singers would perform, there would be theatrical plays, there would be songs, short parodies.  Then the movies would start.  There would be movies like dramas, comedies, adventure movies and so on.  I have not retained any of the movies I watched in my mind.  There was Cumhuriyet casino in Tepebasi on Friday nights.  There were big stars, Turkish style and European style there.  I remember that cover charge was 11 kurus then.  Money was valuable then.  When the famous stars appeared, the red carpet would be rolled out on the floor.   I do not remember the names of the stars of the time now.

When we grew up a bit more we started going to the movies with friends. For example there was first class in the movie theaters in Beyoglu, this was 35 kurus.  We would go to the movie theater, then we would go the milk-pudding store, or there were bakeries, we would go there.  We could not spend one lira.  Sundays were spent like this.

I attended Saint-George school for junior high and highschool too after elementary school.  Among our friends in school, there were Turks, there were Jews, there were 1 or 2 Armenians, mostly there were Jews and Turks.

All my classes were fine, my favorites were math and about animas (naturekunder).  I did not have teachers that I especially loved or hated.  I had a good relationship with all the teachers.  I played basketball in school for a few months but I did not continue.  We had a teacher named Maya, he would teach us.  I took music classes in school.  I was playing harmonica then, the whole school took classes of harmonica.

I did not encounter any antisemitism from my teachers or classmates, only at the very end, when Hitler came to power.  There were no German students in our school.  There was one Armenian, Medovic.  He was the son of the owner of Tokatliyan hotel.  He was a German national,  the German flag would come out, the Nazi cross, and there would be tension.  But there were Turkish students, we got along well with them.  Later on we finished school.  After a period, our school also displayed the German flag, the swastika.  Because Austria was invaded by Hitler, that’s why.  Later on the Austrian hospital also displayed the German flag, swastika.

During school years there were girls in Kuledibi who we were friends with, they attended the Austrian girls’ highschool. There was a friend named Lora,  we would go on the balcony in their house, we would dance, and chat.  There was Caroline Markus.   She was our friend, we were together because we were from the same street.  There even was a girl, she was Chaldean, she was a pretty girl, I don’t remember her name.  One day she came to my home, rang the doorbell, my father answered.  I was not home, my father said “come in, my daughter”.  The girl said: “I love Jak a lot, but he does not love me”.  Look at the girl’s chutzpah.  My father answered “is that so, my child, I will speak to him”.  In the evening my father related this to me.  I was about 14-15 years old then, a child, as you can imagine.  My father took this event very calmly, he was a very modern man.  They even laughed about it at home with my older brother.  My father had even said “pretty girl” about her to me.  Whenever he saw a girl next to me in the street, he would remove his hat and greet her.

We would go out on Saturdays and holidays.  There was a colony of Eastern European Jews on the side of Uskudar [a district on the Anatolian side of Istanbul].  There were houses resembling a small village, you could eat and stay at houses like Polonezkoy [a village on the Anatolian side of Istanbul founded by the Polish and which therefore had the name “village of the Poles”], there even was a rabbi, but there was no synagogue there.  We stayed there for 15 days.  Sometimes we would only go for the weekends, Saturday and Sunday, and we would return.  There were always Ashkenazim there, we would go there mostly with Ashkenazim.  My older brothers would go more often.
The schools were separate.  We were separated from girls.  We could not go into their school.

My friends outside of school were Jewish.  There was also a British girl, she was not Jewish.  Her name was Eillen Castle.  There was a house belonging to the British embassy, because this girl’s father worked at the embassy, they stayed in this house.  That’s where I knew her from, we would just meet with her.  We would go out when we were free, we would go to the movies, meet with the girls every day after homework, have fun with them.  There was Benhabib in Kuledibi, Izak Benhabib, he had a very beautiful voice.  There was a tallish rock under the tower, he would sit there and sing.  There was a famous singer called Tina Rossi, he would sing her French songs.  All the girls would come out to the windows around him.  We would tease and have fun.  We had this friend, Benhabib. Peyse Levi, Yonas Kohen, Lazar Arovas and one unlucky guy who drowned in Florya, I don’t remember his name.  One day we were going to go to Moda.  He made us get out of the boat at the last minute so we could go to Florya.  So we went ahead and arrived to Florya.  The water in the beach came up to your knees.  There were a few more beaches adjacent to our beach.  He suddenly turned towards us and said “I am going to the beach next door, I have a friend that I know” and he left and did not come back.  We looked and saw it is already 4-5 p.m., we will return in the evening, he still has not come. We searched and searched and could not find him.  In the end they found him in the sea, he drowned.  But the water is up to your knees.  Someone told us that sometimes there are potholes in Florya, one appeared in front of him, he was afraid of falling down so he held on to a woman next to him.  The man next to the woman punched him for holding onto the woman, and he fainted and died, they said.  Later on the police arrived and told us to go and inform the family.  The poor guy was lost.

The Jews here had specific professions of course, usually they were all merchants.  The Suraski’s had a big store in Sultanhamam [industrial district in Istanbul], selling fabrics and ready-made clothing, the Broth’s had a big store again in Sultanhamam selling British fabrics for men and women. Then there was Inselberg, Reitz, Dr Markus, and Schnitter.  These were all merchants and 80% of the Eastern European Jews were agents, they had brokerages.

There were good families in Kuledibi. 80% of the Eastern European Jews lived in Kuledibi.  There were no Ashkenazi Jews living in places like Hasköy or Balat.  They were all at Kuledibi and Tunel.  Later they slowly left.  I was in Kuledibi until I was 16.  All my friends were from there.  There was Benhabib, there was Levi, Yonas Kohen, Lazar Arovas.  We all lived close to each other there.  There were all Jews.
I cannot say anything as far as numbers but Istanbul was close to 100,000 people but I cannot know about Kuledibi, it was crowded.  The Ashkenazim had 3 synagogues only.  An Ashkenazi synagogue at Yüksek Kaldirim (a hilly neighborhood on the European side where the Jews did commerce), Schneider Temple next to Saint-George hospital and one more behind Yüksek Kaldirim but the environment was bad, there were brothels, and it closed.

There was a rabbi, an usher, a cantor, there was everything.  There was mikveh, Talmud Torah, and Yeshiva.

There was one great rabbi, Rav Shapira.  Then there was the Ashkenazi colony.  There was the colony of Ashkenazi Jews on the other side, we would go there.  This is how we grew up.

Later when it was time for Purim, we all dressed in Purim clothing in Kuledibi.  I had one older brother. He was quite arrogant as he had studied a lot, he would become a prince.  He would go around in a horse-carriage,  the other 2 siblings would be his attendants.  He would go around the street like this in a horse-carriage.  I had another cousin, named Bernard Huves.  The son of my father’s sister, he was a jokester.  He was a hairdresser for women and men.  The wife of Inönü 3 would come to him, he was that good of a hairdresser.  But he liked jokes a lot.  One day he bought a potty for Purim, new, he washed it.  His mother made marmelade from fruit leather, he filled the potty with this marmelade, a little later he ate out of this potty with a spoon, and he made a little bit of a mess all around too.  Everyone who saw the potty thought it was something else, and he came to our house like this at Purim. He went to other houses like this too.  That’s how it was done, we had fun, there was this much freedom in the streets.

I did not encounter any kind of antisemitism when I was a child.  I remember the military parades, the independence day celebrations from my childhood.  I especially remember the 10th year.  In the 10th year, there was a crescent moon and star bulb at every window in every house.  There were 10-15 bulbs around the moon, like stars and the lights were on.  Not only at every house, almost at every floor in every window it was on.  It was like daytime.  Everyone took care of their own flat.  The crescent moon and star were sold ready and we put up the bulbs.  Then arches were placed on the streets all the way from Tepebaşı down till Karaköy, the Jewish community did it, lit by bulbs.  That night songs were sung, we had fun till the morning. Nothing like this ever happened again, it was not done. I was around 14-15 years old then.

Another event I remember was the death of Atatürk 4.  When Atatürk died in 1938, there was a ceremony in Dolmabahce Palace.  I was supposed to go somewhere in Besiktas for work, I passed by with the trolley.  As I was passing in front of it, let me get down and go too, I said.  When I was entering Dolmahçe, they said without a hat or coat, it was winter then, I did not understand it well and I thought that they would take the hat and the coat, I cannot find it again in this crowd, I thought.  I changed my mind and did not go in.  Apparently holding it in you hand was acceptable, I was mistaken.  But in the evening we went with my mother and older brother to Dolmahce.  It was very crowded and there were people who fell into the sea from the throngs.  An Ashkenazi girl fell into the sea with her mother. There were deaths. 6 people died that day from the crowds.  There were policemen on horses.  When we saw this crowd, we went back.  That is how much Atatürk was loved by everyone.  Atatürk was different, everyone loved him.
I have a few more memories involving Atatürk.  Atatürk danced with my cousin.  I had a cousin Rapaport, she was married to my cousin Charles Huves.  Charles Huves was my father’s sister’s son.  He lived in Bombay for 10 years, then came here.  He was the manager in the firm he worked and the firm had sent him to Bombay.  There was Rapaport, he was very wealthy, he imported tripps. He married his daughter. I do not remember her name.  They had a villa in Suadiye. In summer when they were in the casino of Suadiye hotel, Atatürk came from the sea by motorboat.  The wife of my cousin was a very beautiful woman. Atatürk came and asked permission from her husband to dance with her.  After the dance, Atatürk brought her to the table and thanked her.  This happened in Suadiye hotel. 

There is also a memory of  Atatürk in Park hotel.  There was lunch for 110 kurus at Park hotel every day, there were 3 courses for the meal.  Also 5 musicians, they were Ashkenazi and without passports.  These were the ones who escaped from Poland and Russia.  When Atatürk came to Istanbul, he used to eat there and enjoyed the music. These people  played classical music.  Every time Atatürk came to Istanbul, he came here.  In the meantime a law was passed.  Only Turkish citizens would be able to work in jobs like musicians and waiters.  Consequently they let these musicians go, because they were all foreign. Atatürk came and sat down to eat and asked where the musicians were.  They told him these were not Turks, so they could not work there. Atatürk  was angry, “what do you mean they cannot work, find them at their homes and bring them here one by one”, he said.  They brought all of them, in front of Atatürk. Atatürk asked: “what is your name?”  One of them said, “Goldenberg”.  Atatürk: “O.K., let your name be Altındağ (in Turkish it means Golden Hill), you have just became Turkish, write it down”, he said.  He gave all of them a Turkish name and made them Turkish citizens.  “Now go ahead and play music”, he said.

Atatürk’s dentist was Günsberg.  His place was in Beyoglu.  My wife used to wait at the dentist’s door to be able to see Atatürk, when he came there.  When Atatürk came to Istanbul, he would visit with Dr Marküs too.  The old president of B’nai Brith.   Dr Marküs was our Grand Rabbi.  He was a doctor of philosophy.  Atatürk enjoyed talking with him.  Let me also talk about this. Atatürk got in line for the subway going from Karakoy to Beyoglu and bought a 2nd class ticket, and of course passed, everyone got up but he acted like a regular citizen.  Of course there were policemen in civilian clothing for security.  There was Tokatliyan hotel in  Galatasaray.  He would sit there with his entourage.  Sometimes we would see, he would wear a dark-colored capelike thing, and tall boots, we would look with admiration, he had such eyes, you could not stare, they were piercing.

The Austrian captain that I remember.  At the end of World War I, when the foreign armies that were here were leaving, the Austrian army, I have no idea where they came from, stayed for 3 days and returned to Austria.  A soldier with a captain’s uniform missed the return date and stayed here in the streets with his cane.  Just as my father was crossing the street in Tünel, he looks and sees an  Austrian soldier.  My father knows that the Austrians have left.  This soldier, his cane in his hand is shouting.  “Achtung (attention), Fire”, he shouts.  My father called him.  He asked his name: “Schwartz”.  My father understood that he was Jewish, he also checked, he was circumcised, he was not mentally normal.  They tried to help him return and asked around at the embassies.  They could find no connection, his family probably died during the war.  They looked for his family to send him back but could not find them.  He had to stay here.  My father gave him civilian clothing, found him a place to sleep.  There was a grocer, Jewish, “come to me every day.  You can deliver the orders”, he said.  He came to us too every evening for dinner.  We were together every evening at the table.  This lasted 25 years.  During this time he never begged, he even gave money to beggars.  There was one thing he loved, he always said give me a tie.  When I was in the military, there was an epidemic of smallpox and he died, I heard about it when I was in the military.

My wife Ceni Rutli

My wife Ceni Rutli (nee Romi) was born in Istanbul at Altinci Daire [a district on the European side of Istanbul]. On August 15th, 1923.  She studied in junior high. Her mother tongue is Judeo Espanyol, she also knows French. She worked for a very short while after school.  The Berber store of Soryano Hanalel.  They sold things like shirts and pijamas.  She did not work after getting married.  She had 2 siblings.  The older one Jak Romi, the younger one Albert Romi. They both went to Israel.  Jak Romi opened a hardware store there.  He had one daughter and one son.  Mahir Romi and Estella Romi.  Albert Romi married a woman from Egypt there.  He did not have children.

This is how my wife and I met.  I had a friend, Izi Goldenberg who was the owner of Grundig radios and televisions.  He used to manufacture gloves before, gloves for men and women.  He was at Sultanhamam in the five fingers building.  We also founded Rutli-Goldenberg, an agency specializing in hardware but it did not work afterwards.  My current wife was working in a shirt store around there.  When Goldenberg was working on gloves, she came one day to buy a pair and we met there.  I helped her carry the package she bought, we took it to the store.  She was a beautiful woman, “would you date me?”, I said.  “Yes, I will date you”, she said, but not alone.  I had friends, we went out together.  We went out one or two times.  Later we continued.  After a while she started asking about marriage.  I said, “I cannot marry before my sister is married”.  She told this to her mother.  Her mother said, “ask if she has money”.  She came to me and asked, “does your sister have money?”.  I told her that the older brothers that are in the United States and the ones here, they will all give.  She then told me “I know a doctor.  If your sister gets engaged, I will enter your house too, I want to get engaged too”.  I said, “o.k.”   We made a date at a bakery in Beyoğlu, so they could meet.  My older sister came with my older brother, and I with Ceni, and doctor Sami Reytan came alone because he did not have a father or such.  He was a good man, later on he became an internist, they liked each other a lot.  They decided, came to our house, got engaged and later on married.  They got married and we got married.  Following us, my older brother Charles also married.  And my mother lived with my older sister and the doctor.  The Doctor opened a clinic. There was a famous professor Frank here, who ran away from Germany, he was his assistant.  He did his residency with him. He became an internist.  Then he received a very good offer from Israel and went to Israel.  There he became a doctor at Kupat holim (national/public healthcare centers in Israel).  They had children there.  He bought a villa, he bought two flats for his children. His financial situation was good.  My mother went to Israel to be with them.

We were married in Istanbul in the Ashkenazi synagogue at Yüksek Kaldirim with my wife in 1947.  My wife is Sephardic.  I registered her to our community with a paper I took from the Sephardic community to be able to get married.  They have an agreement among themselves, they do not compete.  There is a difference in the way we get married in the synagogue.  Now, when you go to the temple, the groom comes with his mother and father just like the Sephardim, with us, I came with my mother, because there was no father, my older brother took his place.  With us, when the bride comes, she does not enter the temple directly.  She goes up the stairs, there is the first gallery there, she waits.  The rabbi comes, takes me and my mother, we go upstairs.  We open the veil to see that it is my wife. We say “o.k.”.  I go down alone, my mother stays with the bride and they descend together.  And this is why, it is in our history, Rachel for Leah.  This is it.  Because the guy wanted Rachel, they gave him Leah. [Story from the Bible: Yaakov wanted to marry Rahel and had to work for his future father-in-law for seven years to have her hand in marriage. However, on the wedding day, instead of Rahel they put the ugly older sister under the veil and married her off to Yaakov!]

The wedding went very well.  There was no evening party.  We got married, we immediately went home, undressed, changed, took a small suitcase and went immediately to the hotel. We went to Heybeli ada [the third one of the Princess islands, on the Marmara sea, south of Istanbul] for our honeymoon.  We stayed at a hotel there, Halki Palas, it was a nice hotel, the food was very good.  I remember there was a dish where they placed an egg on toast.  An egg over a toast, the yolk in the middle, however they did it, it was fantastic.  We stayed for 3-4 days there.  We were married on August 31st.  Our friends came too.  We went out on a boat.

For the first 3 years of our marriage we lived with my wife’s mother in Altinci Daire. Then we moved to Elmadag.  And we started to live on our own.

Family life

We had two children.  I have a deceased son. Norbert Noah Rutli.  My father’s name.   He was born exactly 9 months after we were married in 1948.  She became pregnant from the first night. Later on we went to Israel because he was sick.  He had a debilitating illness.  We stayed there.  He had an infirmity in his spine, there was a germ.  At the time I contacted Switzerland and the U.S.A.  Switzerland asked for a lot of money then.  Finally I got in touch with the ambassador and took him to Israel.  There were the sons of my father’s sister there. We stayed at their house.  He stayed in the hospital for one year. I stayed here during that time, my wife stayed there with the cousins.  At the time, the biggest professor in the United States who happened to be Jewish, had come to Israel for a visit.  We wrote to him and I don’t know how many thousands of dollars he asked for. My son had to stay 6 more months in the hospital then.  The doctor saw my son, why should he stay, let me operate and you take him with you, he said.  And he died during the operation.  But I think it was a mistake, I was not there.  It was what they call a shock operation.  Now, they had to put him  under before entering the operating room.  They brought my son the operating room without putting him to sleep. When my son saw the operating room and the lights, he went into shock and died.  Before putting him under the knife.  He was 5.5 years old when he died.  This illness started when he was 3.

After my son’s incident, my wife could not get pregnant for a long time.  From stress and anxiety.  Then G-d granted it.  My daughter Stina Rutli was born in 1956 in Istanbul.
When Stina was little, she ate with so much difficulty, that we did not want to have any more children.  The same morsel in her mouth for hours, we would say a birdie is flying, she still would not swallow.

We spoke in French with Norbert. He was very smart.  While his mother read in French, he would memorize it. We spoke in Turkish with Stina.  She does not know Judeo Espanyol at all.  We could not send her to a Jewish school- she attended a private elementary school in Pangalti, I do not remember the name, that school doesn’t exist any more.  She attended junior high in Saint-Pulcherie [French Catholic school]. She learned French there.  My cousin Eli Rozental was a teacher there.  He was a French teacher.
We raised our child according to Jewish traditions.  Even today, we celebrate the first night of Passover in Stina’s house.

We developed a lot of great friendships during the years we lived in Elmadag.  Esti and Mordo Peres, Zelda and Yomtov Behar, and us, 3 families lived in Elmadag.  Also Süzi Izak Sarhon and Izi Süzet Levi would come.  We would meet every evening.  Esti could not sleep at nights, she went to bed late, so she invited us all the time.  The place we lived at was called Uftade sokak (street).  We would go to the movies.  We would have conversations, sing songs, play games, we had a lot of fun.  During summers, we would go, again all together, to Caddebostan for years.  Later on when Stina grew up, we went to Suadiye for summer. [Two neighborhoods on the Asian side, on the seashore].  We got a nice home, that is to say rented it for summer.  The landlady had a son.  One day she came home, I wasn’t there, “with the decree of G-d, and the power of the prophet, I want your daughter for my son”.  Stina was still 14-15 years old.  We stopped going to Suadiye after this and started going to Büyükada [the largest and last one of the Princess islands].  A few years late she married Yusuf Jojo Baruh at the age of 18.  On June 1st, 1974.  Yusuf has a store about electricity on Bannkalar caddesi(Banks street). She had a daughter named Selin and a son named Ediz. Ediz is 27 years old, Selin is 25.

We had beautiful friendships in Caddebostan where we spent our summers.  We would go with them to the sea as well as play games, and dance, we laughed a lot, our days passed wonderfully. I can tell you this, the friendships that I just mentioned with the friends from Elmadag, we never found again.  There was such an intimacy that, for example one day, our friend Esti’s son Ceki was sick, they were scared that their other son Moris might catch it, we left our home, Mordo and Ceki went to our house, we went to Esti’s home. All three of us would sleep in the same bed.  But I have to go to work in the morning, it is the middle of the night, 3 or 4 a.m., Esti is still talking.  That is how we passed the time.  We were very very close.  This illness lasted for one month. Mordo there, us here.  In the choice of friends of course being Jewish was important.  But we also had very good Turkish neighbors and friends apart from this.  There was one Sara Hanim (Mrs. Sara) and one general colonel.  We were so close that the general colonel would come to stay with his relative.  He had a bag of documents, he would come and leave his bag at my house, so we could play cards, hide the bag so the guests cannot see it, he would say, he had so much trust in us.  I would hide it in the closet.  Also we were very close with Sara hanim.  We lived in a bungalow in Caddebostan. Sara hanim came to visit us.  She used to stay with us.  There was a hall at the entrance, we gave her a metal bed, she laid on it.  We went to bed inside in the bedroom.  Morning came, I have to go to work, I have to go through the hall, I open the door and looked to see if I can get out, I saw Sara hanım has dropped her cover and is lying half naked with her underwear and such, if I open the door and go out, she will wake up and feel bad, so I gently closed the door and left through the window of my bedroom.  We had such nice times.

We traveled a lot but not with the children.  We went to England 4-5 times,  we stayed in Italy, in Milan for one month, we went to Germany, to Munich, we went to Paris and Israel.

We used to go to my wife’s father’s house on seder nights, later when they went to Israel, we would hold it in our house.  Now we go to our daughter’s house.

We observed all the holidays in  our family.  Kashrut was observed.  At that time, one cousin, Mose was a butcher.  The meat, poultry was kosher, it would come from there.  Lobster, shrimp, pork would not enter our house, we observed Passover.  On Saturdays, my mother would light two candles, and I saw this at the movies later on.  She said a prayer, the table would be set with a tablecloth, a tuile cloth.  When my father came from the synagogue, the cloth would come out, the candles would be lit.

I would go to the Ashkenazi synagogue in Yüksek Kaldirim when I was little.  I used to go to Heyder (after school Hebrew classes) for two years, after school.  They would give classes to prepare for bar-mitzvah every day in Yüksek Kaldirim.  There was the rabbi Segal, there was Rav Shapira.  Usually Yiddish was spoken, the reading was in Hebrew.  We translated the Hebrew we read to Yiddish.  When my father died, I went to temple every morning for 11 months.  Kaddish is very important for us.  When my father died, it wasn’t like it is now, a rug used to be placed on the floor and we would sit on the floor for 7 days, that is how it needed to be done for mourning.  I was working then, there was a boss, Hamburger, he was Ashkenazi too, he was on a trip.  I was alone in the office, I would sit on the floor.  But 2-3 days later, I had to go and see if there was mail or telegraphs, so they put ashes but thin ashes into my shoes so I could not walk comfortably, I had to be sitting for seven days.

Currently I still go to the synagogue on Rosh hashana, on Yom Kippur.  There are now only about 100 families left as Ashkenazim.

When my father went to the synagogue sometimes I accompanied him.  Again my father would pray on the day of the Sabbath at home with wine, and we would listen.
We had the bar-mitzvah in the synagogue, at the Schneider Temple.  There were no balls or such outside then, 80 years ago.  I remember reading a lecture, one rabbi even gave me a book, a bar-mitzvah book and shoes as a gift.  I don’t remember if we did anything at home.

When I was little, I liked Passover the most because my mother cooked delicious dishes, our foods. There was Lorkes, Kugels, Matzo balls, Gefilte fish.  Gefiltefish:  You buy one big striped mullet and one mackerel.  First you clean the scales, then you remove the skin especially from the mullet without tearing.  Then you remove the bones of the fish and the flesh of the fish is ground with a meat cleaver.  Then it is mixed with a sauce made from eggs, salt and pepper and refilled into the skin that was removed from the mullet and cooked.  After it is cooked, it is sliced.  The meat that does not fit into the skin is made into meatballs.  My father used to love Passover a lot, he did not want it to end.  He would say I wish it continued for another month.

There were no “donme”s 5 from Salonika among our friends and relatives, only an acquaintance where I worked was Karay 6,  Levi.  We worked together in Becker pharmacy.  When Becker imported drugs, we needed a pharmacist to import the drugs, and that was Levi.  I thought he was Spanish, but he was Karay.  He spoke Spanish better than me.  He later opened a pharmacy in Tophane. The Karays resemble our Sephardim, only they believe in the Torah, they do not believe in the additions of the rabbis.  I learned Spanish from my wife and my friends.

World War II and the Turkish Jews

I was a soldier when the Holocaust was taking place in Europe, from 1941-1944.  and Anatolia was in the dark.  The lights would be out in Kayseri, in Malatya [two cities in the central section of Turkey called Anatolia], there was no electricity at night.  We were 550 non-Muslims in the military, Greeks, Armenians and Jews, ten corporal sergeants and one officer.  They gave us blue uniforms for the airport, then an order came, they removed the Armenians, they gave them brown uniforms, to build roads.  We went from town to town and were discharged from Canakkale [the Dardanelles].   I did not encounter antisemitism during this time.  There wasn’t any in Istanbul either.

About the war, we were afraid in general during that period.  Stalingrad comes to Russia and what will happen and so on. We were in Bandırma then, we built 3 plazas on the hill and 2 Jewish soldiers had a fight between themselves for whatever reason.  One sergeant said the non-Muslims have rebelled.  When we were getting up in the morning, all of a sudden, don’t move, we are surrounded, a load of soldiers have circled us with machine guns.  Then they looked, nothing is happening, they retreated.

I remember the first time we heard about what was being done to the Jews in Europe.  Of course, now even today, I do not wish to see Germans because of this.  The Germans took and killed 3 siblings of my father-in-law.  One was in Lyon, the other in Marseille, and one more in Paris.  They took all of them, sent them to camps, which camp I do not know.  But one of them returned.  He returned to France weighing 40 kilos (88 lb.s).  They gave him food slowly, little by little, cookies and such, because the stomach became smaller.  He also had a large number on his arm.

During World War II, a boat full of Jews came to Istanbul, they had run away from the Germans.  They kept them here.  The community intervened, as far as I can remember, they took them to Barinyurt [old people’s home], it was Goldschmith school then.  And everyone went there to visit them.  But they did not allow meeting them.  There was the police.  But I gave a sweater to a child.

I don’t know if this boat was the Struma 7 or another boat.  Later they returned all of them to the boat, we heard later on that it went under while leaving Çanakkale.  But was it Struma, or another boat, I cannot know.
We were soldiers when the Wealth Tax 8 was implemented during wartime.  They did not impose it on me but they did to my older brother, the one who married Mayer.  We even went to the mayor, my older brother asked for time, he said let me finish my military service and then pay.  They did not accept it.  He had a big apartment in Beyoglu, on Sürterazi sokagı (street), Mayer Apartment.  At the time it was registered for 350,000 in the registrar’s office.  They sold it with foreclosure for 110,000.  A wealth tax of 256,000 liras came.  And they said, “thank your lucky stars that you are a soldier, otherwise you were going to go to the military”.  That is how he was saved.
Also about the 20 military classes 9, at the time they took the men into the military, there were no young men left.  The women had to go out to the streets and sell lemons and such in Kuledibi, in Şişhane, because there were no men.  I went as a bakaya [new conscript who, because they were not present at their first muster, are charged with desertion] to the 20 military classes because I did not go when I should have.  I did 3 years of military service.  But I was comfortable.  I was giving German lessons to the officer who I was an orderly for.  Later my older brother came.  He came the third time.  He stayed for 7 months because he was old.

We heard about the Thrace events 10 but I don’t remember much.  The ones from Edirne know about it.

We were delighted with the birth of the Israeli nation.  There was our rabbi in Taksim. 
Rabbi Saposnik. Saposnik was Austrian.  He was a cantor in reality.  When there was no loudspeaker in the synagogue in Yüksek Kaldirim, his voice reverberated there.  Later on he changed to Israeli citizenship.  When the first Israeli embassy opened in Taksim, I remember, the daughter of Saposnik, I don’t remember the name, had raised the flag.  The Jews all congregated there.  Later on the embassy moved.

We did not have the opportunity to do aliyah there.  I worked at Becker for 10 years.  It was a big firm based in London.  You know, Unilever, same firm, they are part of a group.  Becker decided to import and to work as representatives, they will close the other departments and they left.  They told me let’s place you in Unilever.  I said I don’t want to be in an office, I want to be out in the market.  I told the manager, you are leaving these firms, then put them in my name.  We were 3 employees who left Becker, we opened an office and became the representatives of these firms.  The ones I remember were British firms like Rank Taylor Hopson,Edwards High Vacuum, and Baird & Tatlock ltd.  They were big firms.  Becker did not work with little firms.  If it wasn’t for this job maybe I would have gone to Israel.  But I could not go after taking on this work.
But among our acquaintances, the older and younger brother of my wife left.  My mother and older sister left.

We would talk about the subjects of Judaism and Israel among our friends.  We talked a lot.  For example, I do not allow talk against Israel, I react.

Today our communication with the Jewish community hass lessened.  We are not members of any society or club, we cannot take part in any activity but we continue applying our religion as before.  We try to go to the synagogue on holidays but it is now difficult for us to go from here.

When we are alone with my wife, we sometimes talk in Judeo Espanyol, and sometimes in French.  We talk either Turkish or Spanish with our friends, and Turkish with our daughter.

We did not live through any disagreements with our children as far as raising our grandchildren according to Jewish traditions.  They know that they are Jewish.
We used to gather the family before and my wife would cook, but we cannot do this anymore, our daughter does it now.

From the beautiful friendships we had in the past, now we have one Zelda Behar, and one Fani Romi, we get together with them.  We play a card game named Burako.  It is a game like Canasta.  We see each other once a week.  A year ago, I had to sell my car.  I developed cataracts in my eyes, I couldn’t see well anymore.  I had surgery in one eye and sold the car.  When we had the car, we could go out, stroll, eat out.  But now it is difficult without a car.

We were living in Sisli when the massacre in Neve Shalom in 1986 11 happened and while we were shopping from the greengrocer, he told us that a massacre happened in the synagogue.  We were very worried, immediately we called the kids.  Telephone calls came from Israel, from France, asking if anything happened to us. One of my friends died there. At first I did not know who had died, then I looked at the names, I saw there is a Barokas there.  When I was working in Becker, he was working in our export department.  He retired, I now have a house too, I will be comfortable now, he was saying.  We felt very bad.  They interned him in our Ashkenazi cemetery.

We felt very bad when we heard about the bombings in November of 2003 too 12.  We heard about the sounds of the bomb all the way here.   Our daughter immediately informed us.

Glossary

Aron ANJEL  
Istanbul
Turkey
Date of Interview Febr/August 2006
Interviewer Naim Guleryuz

Aron Anjel, who is Turkey’s first city planner, is an affable 90-year-old young man. With his never-absent bowtie and a smile on his face, he is a person ready to find solutions to the leadership problems faced by his community, his nation or mankind in general. With his active childhood and youth, the fortunate coincidences that have shaped his life, and his colorful personality, he is an example of success. The sports sessions that he unfailingly continues daily, the lifestyle he maintains in Buyukada during the long summer that extends from spring till fall, getting up every morning with the excitement of starting a new day and going to his office regularly to solve professional issues, sharing his experiences and proposals with the new generation through the lectures he gives, these are the absolute musts of his life.
When I summarized the main parts of the topic on the telephone, he immediately answered positively with his usual pleasant demeanor and expressed he was ready to help. Our meetings always took place in Tesvikiye, on the top floor of the apartment he talks about in his memories, Ihlamur Palas Apartmani, in the office that he has set up and which he now shares with his son Albert. In the spacious office overlooking the Bosphorus and the hills of Camlica with a broad horizon, in the company of the tea-cups and cakes he offered, Aron Anjel looked as if he was re-living the periods of his life where he preserved the sweet and sometimes bitter memories while we delved into the yellowed photographs during our conversations that lasted for four sessions. In the meantime, we had countless telephone conversations to clear up some details. When the first stages of our meetings was over, we were faced with an unexpected event. His beloved wife who he had been married to for 56 years, passed away suddenly, while they were getting ready to go out to lunch on a Sunday. Despite the immeasurable trauma and great sorrow, he did not falter from continuing our conversations, answering our questions, providing some of the names or dates that he was not sure of, by calling France or the U.S.A. when necessary, and working on the subject with the discipline and sensitivity of an architect. He opened his files, displayed his photographs... he provided the opportunity to examine all of them. The memories and the topics bridged themselves to each other... His valuable professional experiences and accumulations are important enough for his colleagues and the society as a whole... I am eternally grateful for the values he shared with me and consequently with all of you.

My family background

Growing up

During the War 

After the War

Glossary

My family background
 

I do not know the root of the last name Anjel. But you can find this last name in different countries, for example Italy, Greece or Bulgaria. I tease the people asking my last name in English by saying “Angel, but without wings”.

Since I did not have the opportunity to meet my father and mother’s grandparents, unfortunately I do not have the slightest information about them.

My father’s father, Aron Anjel, who I was named after, was born in Salonica in 1863. The family came to Istanbul in 1898 all together. Two of his eleven children, whose names I cannot recall, died at an early age. In 1914, during World War I, they settled in Switzerland with his wife Gracia, and of the nine children who were alive, his daughters Rachel and Elisa (Alice), and his sons Michel, Samuel, Salamon and the youngest David. My father Albert and my aunt Luna stayed in Istanbul. I was not born yet. I learned from my father that my grandfather slipped in the bathroom and died from the blow he received to his head in 1924, I was 8 years old then. I do not know if my grandfather had siblings. But I have two memories, even if they are indirect, about him:

In 1952, when I was the head of the Istanbul Municipality City Planning Office, one day I met Cemil Topuzlu who was an honorary member and the old Istanbul Sehremini 1, who had come to a meeting of the development commission [The job of Sehremini: 1912-1919]. He was 84 years old then. When he heard my name, he asked “In the past, I had a beloved friend who carried the same name and last name. Do you know him?” He was delighted to hear I was the grandson. He talked about my grandfather who was a very good and loyal friend, who was also a musician, about them playing and composing music together, that they continually went to the palace to play Ottoman music and classical Turkish music together with his wife who was the daughter of a sultan.

Here is a second memory: in 1998, we decided to renovate a building we owned that was very close to Galata Kulesi [This stone tower, The Galata Tower, that was built by Genovians in 1348 is still functional]. In the meantime, one of the professors from the Faculty of Architecture, Cevat Ender put a bid on the attic floor with the view of the Bosphorus. On one of the days following the sale, the professor showed me a list, showing item per item, the names, addresses and professions of the people who had lived around Galata Kulesi in 1909. I found the listing of both my grandfather and my father on a street very close to our building. Their addresses were written along with their names and professions. The profession of my grandfather was revealed to be a musician. When I learned this I remembered my musician grandson Uzay Hepari who became famous at a young age and who perished in a terrible motorcycle accident 2. 
 

Her name was Gracia, her maiden name Arditti. After leaving for Switzerland in 1914 with my grandfather and some of her children, she came to Istanbul once in 1930. However, I was on a trip and did not have the opportunity to see her, I did not meet her. The only thing I know is that she died in Switzerland.
 

His name was Moshe Levy. Because he died before my mother got married, I did not get to meet him and do not know much about him. However, I had heard from my mother that he was interested in antiques and had acquired the job of dealing in these.
 

I was 1.5 years old when my mother’s mother Bea Levy Bivas died in 1918 from an influenza epidemic. Consequently I did not get to know her. Avramo Bivas, who was the father of my mother’s maternal grandfather had come to Istanbul from Italy in the 1860’s. This event has a historical short story, let me elaborate.  The Sultan Abdulaziz  [1830-1876. The first Ottoman sultan to visit Europe] was invited to Italy by the Italian king Viktor Emanuel II in the 1860’s. One night, he wakes up with a horrible tooth pain in the palace he is being hosted. The king, having been appraised of the situation, immediately calls for his personal dentist Avramo Bivas who resides close to the palace. The dentist Bivas relieves the Sultan of his pain with his intervention. After visiting different cities in Italy, when the Sultan returns to Rome, he again seeks care with the dentist Bivas a couple of times to feel better. On the day of return, when King Viktor Emanuel, seeing off the Sultan, says: “I was very happy with your visit. If there is anything you saw or liked, I am ready to offer it to you from the heart”, the Sultan has only one answer: “Your dentist”. One month later, Avramo Bivas and his whole family are already in Istanbul, they are already settled in a magnificent villa that has been assigned to them close to the palace. The Bivas family who was part of the Sephardic Jews who had left Spain in 1492 when the Spanish rulers Ferdinand and Isabella decreed the imperial edict, was on Ottoman soil that was chosen by the ones who came before them, three and a half centuries after emigrating to Italy. The name Bivas stayed as a symbol in the family. When the girls got married, they kept the last name Bivas to carry on their father’s fame, and inscribed it in the public registration legers along with their husband’s last name and used it.
 

My father Albert Avram Anjel was born in 1881 in Salonica. He came to Istanbul with his family in 1889 and settled in Haydarpasa. He started his education in the Galata Jewish primary school and continued in Galatasaray Lisesi (highschool) 3 and obtained his baccalaureate from this school. He passed the test given by Duyun-u umumiye Idaresi, a government agency in the Ottoman empire, and started working as an assistant to the principal in the French department. The principal was continually making grammatical mistakes in French in the letters he wrote. When my father couldn’t restrain himself and warned him one day, the principal had him transferred to another department the following day. My father, since he did not like to work as a subordinate, resigned and founded a school with instructions in Turkish, French and German. I do not remember if the school had a name, he was known everywhere as “Professeur Anjel”. The graduates of this place were appointed to either the Senate or the directors’ board of various institutions.
In the meantime he tutored the daughter of Sultan Resat. As a coincidence, when Sultan Resat died the week I was born, they wanted to name me Resat, but my father preferred naming me after his father.

In the 50th year of his teaching career, he was given the honor of “Chevalier dans l’Ordre des Palmes Académiques” by France for his contributions to the French culture.

My father’s mother tongue was Turkish. He did not have the opportunity to go to the military because non-Muslims were not yet accepted in the military at that time.

My father who was slightly tall had a moustache smaller than medium. When he died at the age of 77, his moustache was still black as ever. The middle part of his hair had thinned out a bit, the sides were curly.

We had, in one word, a respect and esteem-based “father-son” relationship. During his entire life he never said a negative word to me. We were a perfect father-son symbol. He was always involved in my life. When I was going to France in 1937, my mother had died in 1932, he personally took care of everything concerning me.

We were not a religious family but we observed our traditions. My father would go to the synagogue on Saturdays, I would accompany him on some days. But we celebrated all the religious holidays as a family.

They were eleven siblings, him being the eldest and all were born in Istanbul except for my father and his sister named Luna. Two of them died at a young age. Two sisters and five brothers emigrated to Switzerland in 1914 with their father and mother. As far as I can remember, their names were: my aunts Rachel, Elisa (Alice), my uncles Michel, Samuel, Isaac, Salamon and David. Isaac later went to Canada. Michel’s daughter Gracia is currently 84 years old and lives in New York.
 

Isaac went from Switzerland to London, and from there to Canada and married an Ashkenazi lady named Sary. My uncle Isaac and his wife came to Istanbul a few times. Their son, my namesake, Henry,studied engineering in England and married a British girl. Henry who got his masters in engineering came to Istanbul at one time, he was on the directors’ board of a Canadian firm. He stayed about a week and suddenly went back. We did not see him again. Afterwards, we learned that he went to Japan for a job, married a Japanese girl there and had two children. A while ago, when my son Albert was searching for the name Aron Henry Anjel on the internet, he tracked his cousin in Japan. They established contact with my sister in Istanbul, Gracia,through the internet. Only, Henry has forgotten everything in his past because of an illness he went through. Currently he is a professor in Japan and his memory is completely wiped of his recollections,and fresh. We are sending each other messages to visit but let’s see... who knows if we will meet, G-d knows...
 

The other sister of my father who stayed in Istanbul, Luna, married Leon Salom, and settled in Israel in 1932 with the family. An interesting memory I have with them:  I had gone to Paris in 1957. From there I went directly to Israel, to Tel Aviv. It was my first visit. They took me around the city etc., then they took me to Tante Luna’s house. I asked where Oncle Leon was. “Don’t ask, forget about him” they said. When I insisted, they told me he was sick, he was lying in bed alone in a room, that he did not recognize anyone, and that they took care of his needs and his feeding. When I insisted on seeing him, they explained that they could not let me enter that room, that no matter how much they cleaned it, it smelled and so on. When I pressed on, “I will not go without seeing Leon when I have come all the way here”, they took me to the room. When Tante Luna said “Leon, look who came”, my uncle opened his eyes, looked at me and suddenly said “Avram’s (my father) son!” and everyone was dumbfounded.

My father was first married to an Ashkenazi piano player. Her name: Fortune Grunberg. He had a daughter named Gracia with her, my half-sister, she died in 1918 from influenza at the age of 9. I was only 2 years old then, I did not get to know her.
 

After the death of the aforementioned Ashkenazi lady in August of 1909, (I do not know where she is buried), my father married my mother Ester Levy Bivas in 1911. The tallit (prayer shawl) that is draped over the heads of the bride and groom in the synagogue as a religious tradition was covered by their family friend Dr. David Markus. Dr. Markus in a way was the Grand Rabbi of the Ashkenazim and the principal of the Jewish high school. Let me add this, every time Ataturk 4 came to Istanbul, he would seek Dr Markus to converse with him for an hour or two. My mother took little Gracia under her wing, she loved her as if it were her daughter. Gracia died at age 9 and was buried in Haydarpasa Mezarligi (cemetery). My father wrote a poem on the tombstone. Afterwards they gave her name to my sister who was born in 1919 and who is still alive.
 

Following my mother’s death in 1932, my father remarried a cousin of my mother named Ojeni (Eugenie) in 1933. I do not know the maiden name of this lady. Because I was against this marriage, I ran away to my aunts’ house in Haydarpasa. My relationship with my mother was different, we were never apart. I was 15 when my mother died. She would first run her decisions by me. She missed her younger brother Nesim a lot. She had told me that she had decided to go to France to see him. But it wasn’t meant to be, we lost her suddenly. And my mother dies, another woman comes home. In this mindset I could not except my father remarrying and took refuge with my aunts who lived in Haydarpasa, where one was the principal of and the other a math teacher in the Haydarpasa Jewish primary school. After staying there for a long time, I finished high school. And entered engineering school. When you grow up, you take account of your mistakes better. Then you get to think, how is my father supposed to live alone? I apologized to my father and again continued with a life full of love.

My father fell and hit his head in Buyuk Hendek Caddesi (street) where Knesset Israel synagogue was on October 14th, 1958 and passed on at the age of 77 at the Primary Care Hospital where he was taken. He was still teaching at the time.

My father is buried in Ulus (Arnavutkoy) cemetery. His grave was at the front row of the main street in the cemetery, both him and my mother. Then they came, they added a row in front, now I have to step on other graves to pass and jump over. It is a shame. They still bury this way. I provided a 30-acre cemetery in Kilyos from Istanbul Buyuksehir Belediyesi (Istanbul mayor’s office) for the Jewish community. When the Ahis [a religious sect] declined the place separated for them, they added it to us. I prepared such a project. I had it fenced all around by the city. I prepared the project in such a way that all the graves are pointed to Jerusalem. The year is 1992. Unfortunately they did not bury a single person there till now. They are resisting because it is far.
 

My mother Esther Levy Bivas was born in 1885 in Balat. From what my aunts told me she was always the top student in her class, and finished primary school, junior high and high school as valedictorian. My mother, who was known to be the most beautiful girl in Balat was of Italian descent.

My mother first started to work with the famous industrialist and merchant of the time Lazaro Franco, who was of Italian descent. In 1919, through the help of this same person, she was transferred from Salonica to Istanbul Bakirkoy [a neighborhood close to the Istanbul Ataturk airport. Previous name: Makrikoy] and was appointed as principal to Ittihad ve Terakki Lisesi (highschool) (Union et Progres) which provided education in French just like Galatasaray Sultanisi, and we moved in to a special flat that was designated for us in the school. 

Within less than two years, in 1921, when my father and mother were appointed gentleman and lady directors of the newly opened Jewish orphanage (Orphelinat) in Ortakoy [a neighborhood on the shores of the Bosphorus Rumeli], this time we moved to a flat that was designated for us in the orphanage and stayed there till 1928.

My mother died in 1932 at a very young age. When she was returning from an acquaintance’s house in Tunel, she fell and hit her head while trying to get away from dogs that were attacking her in the street and lost her battle in the Or Ahayim hospital that she was taken to three days later. I heard the news of her death from our family friend and the principal of the Jewish high school where I was attending, Dr. David Markus, who called me into his office removing me from class and delivering the news personally.
 

My mother was involved in my classes. She would have heart-to-heart talks with me. When she took a decision, she would tell me first. For a while, she missed her younger brother, Nesim a lot. She said she was going to go to France to see him, but she couldn’t, we lost her suddenly...

I know that my mother was part of 9 siblings, that four died when they were young, and that five were left. Their names: Estreya, Eugenie (Ceni), my mother Ester, Simantov and Nisim.

My mother’s younger brother Simantov, was the manager of the famous Salty-Franko stores. He is buried in Haydarpasa cemetery. His wife, an Italian Jew, was named Colomba and she is buried in the Italian cemetery in Sisli.
 

Her sister Estreya was the principal of Haydarpasa Jewish school, and her younger sister Eugenie was a teacher in the same school. Neither one of them married. Usually, the people who work with children do not get married. It seems to me like their longing for children is satisfied. They were both beautiful but they did not get married. Estreya was diagnosed with cancer, she died on July 21st, 1962. Eugenie  moved in with another friend. She also died in the 1970’s. Both my aunts are buried in the Haydarpasa Acibadem Mezarligi(cemetery).

My mother’s younger brother Nisim had left for Paris when he was 20 years old. Nesim was a self-learner, he raised himself, and became an author in Paris. He was a vegetarian and represented France in the European Vegetarian Organisation. He was the special envoy of the president of The World Vegetarian Organisation Jinarajadazo who lived in India.

Every year, when he gave his speech in the general assembly, the audience would tear his shirt to pieces and keep a piece of it as a fetish.  Nisim Levy Bivas who was born in 1900, died due to a brain tumor in 1945, despite all the efforts of my older sister who was his physician.
 

My older sister Bella was born in 1912 in Istanbul Haydarpasa. In 1930 she graduated from The Jewish High School 5 and after studying for one year in the Istanbul Medical School, was enrolled in the Lausanne Medical School. She obtained the specialty of cardiology from the Paris Medical school after graduation. She became an academic in the famous Cardiac specialty hospital, Hopital Brousset, was honored with the distinction of Legion d’Honneur. Bella who spoke French, English and Spanish as well as Turkish and who was a university professor, married Paul Latscha and had three daughters. She died in 1980 after a sudden cardiac infarction.

One of her daughters, Marie-Therese became a cardiac specialist like her mom. She is married to Bernard Guillaneuf and lives in Paris.

Another daughter, Beatrice also studied medicine and specialized in kidney diseases and became a researcher, she represented France in various international lectures for years. Dr. Beatrice Latscha-Descamps who lives in Paris,was honored with the Legion d’Honneur medal by the president of France because of her contributions to  medical research. In this way, mother and daughter, they both earned the Legion d’Honneur.

My sister’s third daughter Muriel is a graduate of the Paris University Economy Faculty and has been the head of the Charles de Gaulle airport’s economic department. She is married to Francois Signorino and also lives in Paris.
My second older sister Mireille (Meri) was born in 1914. After finishing Haydarpasa Jewish high school’s junior high department, she continued in the American Constantinople College (American Girls’ High School) and was married in the Zulfaris Synagogue to Robert Guzelbahar in 1933, she had two daughters. Ezel who we call Dolly, and Emel who we call Pupu. Both of them are graduates of the American College like their mother.

Ezel (Dolly)’s husband’s name is Morill Cole. He is an attorney in New York. His father David Cole has a 30-member law firm and was a legal consultant to President Nixon. We lost Ezel Dolly Cole in 2000 suddenly because of breast cancer. She was so vivacious yet she died within 1-2 months. When she died she was 65 years old. She was the mother of two, one girl and one boy.

Her other daughter, Emel Pupu, married a doctor, Paul Glicsman in New York. Her husband died, she continues her life in New York. Currently she is the mother of three daughters.

Mireille’s husband Robert Guzelbahar died in New York in 1965. Mireille later married Axel Axelrad in 1968 and currently lives in New York..

My sister Gracia was born in 1919 in Istanbul Haydarpasa. They gave her the name of my father’s daughter from his first wife who died at the age of 9. She is a graduate of the Jewish High School in1930 and Burgerschule (German High School) in 1937. She lived in Paris for a long time and in Milan in Italy. In 1939 she married Hayim Salmona, and in addition to Turkish, speaks Spanish, French, German and Italian, Gracia has a son named Guner Freddy and a daughter named Jessie.  Jessie lives in Istanbul with her mother. Freddy is married with a Jewish girl in Italy, he had two children. He separated from his wife and came to Turkey. His children stayed in Italy. He is now married to a Muslim lady. His new wife can be an example to all, she is a very good wife.

Growing up
 

I was born on June 6th, 1916 on the Asian side of Istanbul, in the Yeldegirmeni neighborhood that was between Haydarpasa and Kadikoy, in the famous Valpreda apartment  of the time, on the second or third floor [An apartment built in 1909 at the corner of Duz Sokak (street) and Akif Bey Sokak (street) by the famous architect Valpreda who also built Haydarpasa Gar (train station). According to a rumor, it was built with stones leftover from the construction of Haydarpasa Gari, and yet another rumor was that it probably was built with stones obtained from the stone mines behind Kinaliada [The island among the Princess islands that is closest to Istanbul port, it used to be known as Proti]]. My father was late in obtaining my identification card, therefore on my ID card and consequently on official papers my birthday shows as August 1st. But the year is the same: 1916. I am the third child in a four sibling family and the only son. I was given the name Aron which is my paternal grandfather’s name according to traditions and Henri was also added because of the effect of French culture. The family of my maternal grandmother gave me the nickname Nino because they are of Italian descent and called me like that. I started to use the name Aron only in 1934 after enrolling in the Engineering Faculty.

We would go to Moda [a neighborhood in Istanbul on the Anatolian side] in summers. There was a coffeehouse behind Saint Joseph French high school [French Catholic school founded in 1864 by the Freres des Ecoles Chretiennes, it still continues educating with a French curriculum] somewhere near the sea, the owner was a Frenchman named Mr. Jean. We were good friends. The lower part of the coffeehouse was open, it was a public beach. We would swim in the sea from there. Sometimes we would go in from Moda, swim all the way to Kalamis and return. The sea then was really the sea.

One of my childhood memories is about the time we lived in the orphanage. The year is 1924 (July 21st, 1924, Monday), I am 8 years old and was attending the Jewish high school. We were returning to Ortakoy with my mother in the trolley.  At the time the number 23 trolley would go to Ortakoy, number 22 to Bebek. The first train on the trolley which was red was for first class, the ones behind attached, the second and third trains which were green were second class. Just as we had passed Besiktas and come a little before the door of Ciragan Sarayi (palace), they said “There is a fire, we cannot go further” and stopped the trolley and evacuated the passengers. My mother asked: “Where is the fire?” The answer: “Don’t worry, it is only the orphanage burning!” Just think about the state of my mother and myself. The orphanage was completely burned down, but the kids were spared. No one was too concerned with the land. We had the deed, but however it happened, huge buildings were built there, we moved to the Armenian mansion after the fire. This place was called “el orfelinato de los rusos” in Spanish, meaning the Russian orphanage. Because the Jews that emigrated from Russia during the 1917 revolution took refuge in Turkey. They were accepted by the Sultan and their residence was this building. When the first orphanage in Ortakoy was burned down, part of this building was allotted to the orphanage. This wooden building burned down two years later. The orphanage then moved to a third building that was bought in Yildiz. The building that was later rented out to Liba Laboratories, but there are two buildings there, one is the one that was bought, the second one is bigger and built by the Jewish community. From what I have heard it was sold not very long ago. How can that be? ... If you want find a buyer for Liba yourselves, they said. Can a person sell his own child? Apparently it is dangerous because of terrorism. A community cannot live on money alone, it has to have an identity. I think that to sell a building a community owns is to obliterate its identity. This building has to exist. The building belonged to the daughter of the Sultan. My father enabled them to buy it cheap because he tutored. They bought it for 9500 gold coins then. You could see the whole Bosphorus from there. When Ataturk first came to Istanbul, I think with the Savarona, [this yacht/boat that was bought in 1938 from an American woman was repaired in Hamburg and given to the presidency. After Ataturk’s death, it did not sail until July of 1951 when it was transferred to the Navy following World War II. It was used as an educational boat and when in 1989 it was decided to scrap it, it was rented by Kahraman Sadikoglu for 49 years. The yacht that was renovated now sails on the open seas], all the students and teachers gathered in the garden of this building overlooking the Bosphorus and watched our president arrive to Istanbul for the first time with these credentials.

When my father started teaching in the Istanbul University Foreign Languages Department as a French, German and Turkish teacher in 1929, we left Ortakoy and moved into our building in Beyoglu [Pera]Tunel Meydani (plaza), Nerkis Sokagi (street). This building with 4 internal stairs was a four-story mansion where the banker of Sultan Abdulhamid II 6, Mavrogordato, had lived for years. While construction was going on to convert the building to apartments, we lived in Lemay apartment across the old Russian embassy on Istiklal Caddesi (street) [the previous names: Cadde-i Kebir, Grande Rue de Pera] for approximately two years. Now this Lemay apartment is demolished, in its place is a bank, I think Sekerbank, currently.  Lemay is the name of a French national. Male or female, I don’t know. It was a nice flat.. The teachers of my older sister from the Jewish high school, when I was 13 and she was 17, would come to this house to have tea. There was our French teacher Mr Montangerant among them. He had an ugly face but he was equally unbelievably pleasant. There was a ledge in the living room overlooking the street, you had to go up two steps to it. I liked it a lot.  I made a variation resembling this on a few projects in my professional life, I put the piano etc. there. And there is one more thing I do not forget. I had found a bicycle on the roof deck, I would ride it in circles.  Unforgettable stuff... 

I had my bar-mitzvah at the Kenesset Synagogue which was known as Kal de Apollon, while we lived in Lemay apartment [This synagogue was opened in 1923 by renting the building that was used as Apollon movie theater and converting it to a synagogue in 1923, it was closed in 1982].  As far as I can remember, I had given a short sermon after the prayers on Saturday. My family’s bar-mitzvah gift to me was a desk/workstation. I still keep it at home dismantled.
While we were in Lemay, the house on Nerkis sokak(street) was converted to an apartment and we moved in when construction was over.

My father died in 1958. I moved to Cimenzar apartment in Sakayik sokak(street) in Nisantasi [one of the trendiest residential centers of Istanbul] in 1959, and to Polat apartment that I built on Valikonagi Caddesi(street) again in Nisantas in 1965. Because I allotted different flats of this apartment to my family now we live under the same roof as my married children but in autonomous flats close to each other.

We also have a trunk left from my mother’s mother, we still keep it. From what they used to relate, my mother’s grandfather’s father, the dentist Dr. Bivas kept the gold coins given to him by Sultan Abdulaziz in this trunk. However, in the following years, his son Simantov squandered this money gambling. We were left with not the riches but the trunk as a souvenir.
 

Our mother tongues were French because my mother and father were French teachers, our traditional language Spanish, Italian because of my mother’s family, and naturally Turkish, in our family. 

I had a very active education period. I started primary school in Ortakoy Jewish primary school. A year later I was enrolled in the elementary school of the Jewish high school that was founded by Dr. David Markus [1870-1944] who was the principal and who my mother knew well and I got my elementary school diploma in June of 1926. I continued my education in middle school for seven years again in the Jewish high school. But the last year I also attended Galatasaray Lisesi (highschool) [founded by Sultan II.Bayezid in 1481 and still continues in the field of education successfully] and obtained my highschool diploma from the Jewish highschool and my baccalaureate from Galatasaray in 1932. I passed the entrance exam and enrolled in the Engineering Faculty and graduated in 1937.
 

I wanted to study architecture. We decided that I should go to France to be with my older sister Bella who was a physician. The famous and positive coincidences of my life started at this stage of my life. One day I came across Mr. Louat, a Frenchman who was my geography teacher in high school in front of the door of Galatasaray Lisesi(highschool) and told him about my decision. “What a nice coincidence! I met the world-famous city planner Prof. Henri Prost, who was invited by Ataturk to prepare Istanbul’s development plan, at the French embassy at an event honoring him a few days ago. If you want I can introduce you to him” he said. I gladly accepted his offer. The next day we met and went to his house on Lamartine street in Taksim [a modern and busy neighborhood of the city]. Prost 7 asked me about my goals, listened to me and advised me to contact and choose from four Architectural faculties in Paris whose names, addresses and telephone numbers he found from the yellow pages and wrote for me on a piece of paper. I sent the list to my older sister Bella who was a professor in the Paris Medical school. A week later she informed me that she talked with her professor friends and chose the best faculty and that she was waiting for me. I took off for Paris via Marseille at the end of the summer in 1937 on the ship Lamartine. On the opening day of Ecole Spéciale d’Architecture (The Special Architecture School), the garden was very crowded and noisy. A person who I later learned was assistant principal, Mr. Poulet shouted “Quiet please, the principal is coming." Who do you think the president that came was? Prof. Henri Prost! A week after classes started, Mr.Poulet told me the president was calling me. I immediately went to him. Prof. Prost expressed me he looked over my papers, that the physics, chemistry and math classes that I had taken in Istanbul Engineering faculty were the curriculum of the first two years in Paris, and if I wanted I could take the tests and I would be exempt from the first two years’ classes if I were successful in passing them. I immediately accepted and took the tests on the given dates, was successful and gained two years. A few days later, Prof. Prost called me again, seated me saying “Please sit down, our meeting can take a while” and asked if I wanted to study Urbanisme (Urban Studies). I said “Mr. President, in my family the love of education is infinite. But the classes in the faculty start at 8.30 in the morning, we eat in the cafeteria at lunch and leave at 5.30 in the evening.  How can I study in a university 20 km.s away?” “Look” he said, “here I am your president, there the principal teacher. There are fifteen minutes between classes. Both schools have a subway station in front of them and it takes approximately 8 minutes. You can continue in both departments as if you are on the same campus. I can rearrange the program accordingly. What do you think? I immediately accepted and enrolled in the University of Paris, Institut d’Urbanisme (Urban Institute), Sorbonne. I moved like a robot and finished both faculties together under the fire of World War II and got my diplomas in 1940 two days apart. 

During the War

I was lucky after I took the tests. In what sense...  Hitler was 1,5 km.s away from Paris. The Urban Institute, that is to say Institut d’Urbanisme was in Sorbonne and was very full. This class was given in France for the first time in the world. It was filled with people who came from surrounding countries. They separated us into two A-K and L-Z.  The second group was going to take the test 15 days later. I was in the first group of A as Aron Anjel. I took the test. The date is June 8th, 1940 Saturday. I took it, I was lucky there too. The jury consisted of 8 professors. I had prepared a thesis 3 months ago, each professor asks me a question. In the meantime there are those whose thesis is not accepted in 10-12 years. For example, the mayor of Saigon sat next to me in class. I really took advantage of him, he had great books. There are two things, I will never forget: Among the professors was Prof. Lavedan who had been in the position of ambassador in Istanbul before. He asked me information about foundations. Coincidentally my father had sent me a book published in Istanbul thinking I might be interested, I had read it like a novel. I gave him the answers he seeked. He was satisfied.

Other than the last test there was also an oral exam. The name of our dean was Mr. Oulid. He was of Arabic descent, it seemed, but he was Jewish. I didn’t know. When I went to the synagogue on Yom Kippur [the day of atonement, the day of fasting], he was sitting on the bimah [the prayer pulpit in the synagogue, Sephardim call it Teva]. Then I understood. He taught municipality classes then. There were 12 legal rules about this subject, and he asks me about those! The weather was hot, he was sitting in front of the window and the sun was on him. I have to explain 12 rules one by one. I started to answer. “Premierement ( = First of all)” – “oui (= yes)” “deuxiement (= second of all)” – “oui ( = yes)”... I noticed that his eyes were drooping, he dozed off, so I took a break after explaining the sixth, remembered the last one and said in a loud voice “et douziement (= and twelfth of all)”, he woke up and said “ca suffit (= enough)” and terminated the exam positively for me.

In this way I obtained my diploma from “Universite de Paris, Facultés de Droit et des Lettres Institut d’Urbanisme” (University of Paris, Faculty of Rules and Regulations, the Urban Institute) on June 8th,1940 Saturday, and my diploma from “Ecole Spéciale d’Architecture de Paris” (The Special Architecture School of Paris) as salutatorian on June 10th, 1940 Monday. Within two days of each other!... I still cannot believe it when I think about it. Let me also add this, I had prepared a three meter square scale model with my thesis. The year is 1940. It hung in the large living room of Sorbonne till 1957. When I went to Paris on Prost’s invitation at the end of 1957, it had been taken down a month before. I encountered a large, “white” stain in its place.
 

Even though Paris was designated as Ville Ouverte (Open City), it was constantly bombarded by the Germans.. When the sirens sounded everyone took refuge in the nearest subway. Once I had a T-ruler in my hand, when everyone squeezed into the subway, it broke into two because the roof was low. You cannot forget such things. When we came out, we say that a bomb had fallen close to the subway. A building had collapsed all the way from top to bottom, you should see bedrooms, living room and furniture. And on the very top floor a bird was singing in its cage.

In the meantime there is a phone call to the house. Our ambassador Behic Erkin called and invited all the Turkish students. We were about 100 students, from different faculties, there was only me from mine, we got together. He said: “The Germans are very close to Paris, they are getting closer and closer. In this morning’s newspaper I read that Turkey declared war on Germany in big print. Did you also read it?” he asked. “It is hard to investigate this. Hitler’s army is 1.5 - 2 km.s away from Paris.. If they get here, they can round you up, send you to camps. I will send you in groups of 12 with my limousine that holds 12 people to 40-50 km south of Paris. I will give you other opportunities, money etc., you will see”. The next day we met at 6.00 in the morning as if we were going strolling or shopping for bread, cheese etc. The limousine came, twelve people among us are pulled as if with a magnet, they jump in and go. These I think were the sons of higher level people. We wait for the limousine to return. The ambassador also waits.  It did not come back the whole day. The next day I put 20 small cans of sardines in my bag. We wait and we wait and we decide amongst ourselves that we will walk there. There are no vehicles or gasoline. We took off.. It was June 14th. We left in the morning. The same day Hitler entered Paris in the evening.  The Stukas (German attack planes) are bombing everywhere on the roads regardless if civilian or soldier so France will surrender quickly.  All of a sudden you see the one next to you, boom, goes down. The walk took 22 days. Everyone dispersed. I was left with a friend from law school. When we were in the middle of the walk, we learned that France surrendered. We were close to Bordeaux. We learned later that the fact that we declared war on Germany was made up to boost the morale of the French army that was experiencing a crushing defeat, but we were already on the road. Finally we reached Bordeaux and settled there. I remember sleeping on primitive plow some nights, one night a piece of iron pricked me in the neck even, I woke up not knowing what is happening. I was the only Jew among the Turkish students.

We stayed in Bordeaux for a while, then we went to Perigeux that was not under siege, I stayed there for 2 months. We stayed at the Paviyon Louis Mie. One-story additional sheds were constructed for the refugees. After staying there for two months like this, the train going to Paris and Alsace took off for the first time. There were a lot of Alsacians in Perigeux. Alsace was a city on the border between France and Germany. It had changed hands numerous times, the residents of this city were considered citizens of whichever nation conquered them. At the time it was under German rule. Because the Germans lost a lot of soldiers, they thought of a train going to Alsace via Paris to add the Alsacians who had emigrated to Perigeux to their army. They wanted them to return to their city so the Germans can take them into the army.

I had left my diplomas and my papers in Paris. I decided to go back and pick them up. I went despite everyone’s warning “I wouldn’t advise you to”. Zone non-occupée (The area that wasn’t occupied) ended at the station Charleroi. Everyone was taken down from the train and asked for identification. The Jews were separated to one side. There were about 100 people in front of me when the British planes arrived, sirens sounded, they put all of us on the train. After going for 2-3 kms we learned that the Charleroi station where we were a short while ago was demolished entirely. We entered Paris.
The husband of my older sister who was French was a soldier. She herself had gone to a suburb of Bordeaux, about 40 kms away, on the seashore, to a town called Arcachon with her two daughters, aged 4 and 2. When I was in Bordeaux, one day I went there, found them and we had spent one day together.

The last name of the doorman in the 16-flat apartment that belonged to my sister at Rue Tellier No.1, where I lived in Paris, was Labesse, we called her Madame Labesse. The flat at the entrance to the apartment was allotted to the doorman. When my older sister got married, they rented the flat on the fourth floor that we lived in. They had been living in this flat for four years before I came to Paris. This lady who was called a “Concierge’’ had known our family for seven years, but did not know our roots. At the time the doormen of Paris had the right to give identification cards, residential papers, documents to enter and leave the apartment etc. That is why, the Germans gave Madame Labesse a 50-question document and asked her to determine the Jewish families in the apartment. When she brought me food every evening according to our agreement, she would chat with me. When she showed these documents, first I was suspicious. But right away when she insulted the Germans saying: “Regardez Mr. Anjel ce que les boches m’ont fourré sous la main” (Look Mr. Anjel, what the bastard Germans jammed into my hands) I breathed easy, the next sentence: “Comme si moi je permetrai jamais a un Youpin d’habiter sous mon toit” (As if I would allow a Jew to live under my roof...) put me at ease, because I understood that she had no information about the roots of myself or my older sister.

Meanwhile a friend said “Do you want to see how they gather the Jews?”. We were in “16e arrondissement” (16th neighborhood) which was a trendy area. They were gathering them at the place called Parc de Princes. Trucks would come, they would separate men from women, old from young. Then more trucks would come, take the separated groups away.

One day I had dropped my identification card somewhere. I don’t know how the Germans managed it, but they found my address. They invited me to the police station and returned my card. My identification card had Jewish written on it, but because it was Turkish and because they were not used to religion being stated on an ID card, they did not understand what it was. That was a coincidence.

The name of the Turkish ambassador in Paris was Cevdet Dulger. Cevdet Bey was chief ambassador in Paris between 1939-1942. With his organisation, the Turkish students in Paris were sent to Istanbul by train in groups of ten without encountering any difficulties. We had a good relationship with the ambassador. In the list presented to the Germans he wrote my name as Harun instead of Aron. When I was being sent back to Turkey, he put a letter in my hand and cautioned me “you will bring it to Ankara”. He did not trust others.  On my return, I delivered it to Ankara, I did not learn the content. Both he and our Grand Ambassador Behic Erkin made history as symbols of humanity. [Detailed information about our diplomats can be obtained at www.muze500.com]. The Turkish students in Paris were being sent to Turkey in groups of ten according to the agreements that took place. After Paris we stayed in Switzerland for a month. Because we suffered so much on the roads, they let us stay in the best hotel in Geneva for free. The government paid the cost of the hotels and trains, everything. Two among us became ministers later on. In the meantime, there were Mehmet Ali Aybar and Cahit Sitki Taranci. Cahit Sitki became a poet, Mehmet Ali Aybar later formed a party, The Party of Workers. 

After the War

When I returned to Istanbul, I attended Fine Arts Academy and got my diploma for masters in architecture in 1942. In 1945 I studied Byzantology in the Archeology Ph.d department of Istanbul Literature Faculty. Because Lutfi Kirdar convinced me that it was absolutely necessary to do this doctorate to devise the Istanbul Development and Building Plan, I completed this doctorate when I was at the start of the Development Plan.
 

Ataturk had invited Henri Prost in 1934. He was planning the routes around Paris then, he had sent a message that he could not come before he finished. In the meantime professors like Lambert, Agache etc. came to Istanbul, and volunteered to do the Development Plan without payment. They prepared drawings but none of them were approved. Because everyone knew that Ataturk was waiting for Prost. Prost came to Istanbul in 1936 when he finished his job in Paris. But I have to confess that when Prost and I later took on the job, we took advantage of these people’s ideas.

Let me explain why Ataturk insisted on Prost. Prost planned and established countless cities, he was responsible for the development of close to thirty cities in North Africa. Generally in the cities he built, he would leave the old one and establish a new one very close by. Convenient for them and convenient for their new life style. He founded Rabat for example, from the ground up... Rabat now is the capital of Morocco. He stayed there for about 12 years, in Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia. He developed Algeria’s main large port. He conveyed a  very interesting experience to me when he was telling me about his life in Rabat. The king makes a request to him, “I am getting older, you made the project of Rabat, if you could only do the buildings of the center plaza” and so on, because he was designing the projects, he was both drawing the buildings and doing the application. “I want to see the buildings you drew for the official buildings at the center plaza” and so on.. And they decided, he draws the projects for the buildings and the facades in detail, they build the facades, but it is empty in the back. In this way a beautiful plaza is shaped and the king gets his wish. The back parts were filled later.

The characteristic of Prost is that he has previously worked in Muslim countries, that is to say in important countries like Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia and that he has accomplished a city plan in accordance with the history and traditions of these countries. Ataturk chose him among many world-famous city planners for this reason. Prost was expressing that the mosques represented the city’s silhouette and was preparing the whole plan with this fact in mind. When the Botanical Institute below Suleymaniye camii (mosque) was 5 stories, he cut off the top three floors. He passed a law for this. According to this law you could expropriate not only lands but also stories. He put a limit on three stories and 4.50 ms at the 40th elevation for buildings inside the city walls. In this way he saved Istanbul’s silhouette.

When I returned to Istanbul, the first thing I did was go to the home of Henri Prost to thank him for the kindness he showed me in Paris. He expressed that he followed my work closely and that he was happy with my accomplishments and when he asked “Would you work with me?”, you can imagine my delight. Immediately, we started working on Yalova Development Plan. Bursa plan followed this. We were working in the office of Prost who could not return to Paris because of the war and because France was under occupation. One day he asked me: “I met with the mayor and head of the municipality of Istanbul. I talked about you with praise and suggested that you work with me in the position of Istanbul Municipality City Consultant. He accepted. What would you say? I said “I work with you anyways, and this is a big compliment and honor for me." I started working officially on the Istanbul Development Plan with Prost with great pleasure. I worked with Prost for 16 years this way. In the meantime the Office of Technical Development was established in the Municipality and I obtained the honor of becoming the first city planner of Turkey. Everyone who worked in the office were architects and I was the only city planning expert. When the contract of Prost expired in 1952,  the agreement was not renewed with the difference of one vote by the Istanbul Municipality Council that was formed by the newly elected Democracy Party. I was assigned as the Head Consultant for the Development Plan Bureau instead of Henri Prost with the suggestion of the mayor and head of the municipality Dr. Lutfu Kirdar 8.

In the development plan for Beyoglu there was no area for greenery. The whole section that started from Taksim through Harbiye, Nisantas, Tesvikiye and all the way to the border of the sea was filled with small, ordinary buildings. It was decided to expropriate this area which was called Park No. 2 on the plan since the time of Lutfi Kirdar and we worked on this for 11-12 years... but at least we acquired a park to breathe in, in the middle of a district like Beyoglu. In the meantime Lutfi Kirdar had left, in his place a new head of municipality who was a doctor,  Fahrettin Kerim Gokay 9 was elected. He was both mayor and head of the municipality like Lutfi Kirdar. He calls me one time and says: ”Mr. Anjel, there is a delegation coming from the U.S. to build a hotel, the undersecretary informed me, we need to provide a space for them." I replied “Tell me when they are coming, I will do the preparations accordingly."

Of course Istanbul is a big city and when something like this is asked without specifying a neighborhood, I prepared a rough draft for a few places. I called them on the phone and said:  here, and there and so on”... One day I receive a call that says “They want it around Nisantas“  At the end of the conversation he says: “They came last year, there is a park that you and Prost built, they want a place in that park”.  I told him: ”Look, we prepared the Development Plan for Istanbul here.  We brought out a green area in a legal way, according to the Development Plan of Istanbul and we struggled hard for this, we managed to accomplish this even though the world was at war for long years. There cannot be a hotel in this green area.  And this is an ordinary hotel.  And this is a place designated for the public. Therefore I cannot give permission for this place." I receive another call: “They came last year and designated the area, they even brought a preliminary project”... “I wish you had told me before. I would not have worked this hard. The result is the same: there cannot be construction on the green area this way” I said. “They are coming tomorrow, please attend the meeting”. Because after Henri Prost left, they had selected me in his place when Lutfu Kirdar was head of the municipality. On account of deciding for this place, and because I worked as the first city planner of Turkey, and the Monuments Committee wasn’t basically established yet, but I was using some of the rights of the Monuments Committee. “I will not say OK for such a place, let’s look for another area, we can definitely find a place in Istanbul. I cannot give permission to put a building in a green area where we worked so hard in the middle of a war.” “Why don’t you think about it tonight, and let me know the result tomorrow... because we will meet them at 2.00 (on a Thursday)” he said. I thought about it all night without sleeping and formed my final decision. He himself had said to me: “Look, I can agree with you as head of the municipality, but I am connected to Ankara since I am mayor and I have to abide by their wishes”.  I said: “I am an expert on city planning, my work is about city planning.  That is my job and in this way I am not connected to anyone.  I cannot permit this”. Following this I brought him a resignation letter the next day. He took and read the letter. I had put this sentence at the very end: “I feel ashamed of working in an institution where personal benefits are preferred” and I signed it. He said to me:  “My professor, you are putting all of us under accusations, at least take this sentence out”.  I said: “Sir, I do not lick the spit I have put out” and I opened the door and left. But for 6 months he sent me my monthly paycheck. And I returned it on the same day as soon as it was sent. I had cut off my connections with the municipality completely... he still did not want to let go of me. 6 months later, the Democratic Party was established then, and there was also the CHP (Republic of People’s Party)... A young member from CHP gives a petition “Even though city planning expert Aron Anjel has given his resignation 6 months ago, why did you not accept this signature (resignation) until now” and he said at the meeting, the assembly met once every 3 months, “I am not aware of this”. In the meantime the father of Tansu Ciller 10  was in charge of the development division and was aware of all of this. He was a member of CHP (Republic of People Party) but he had crossed over to DP (Democratic Party). He got up and said: “Honorable leader, his open signature(resignation) is on your desk, on top of your desk pad”. He said “Go, get it”. Necati Ciller got up, took it and brought it right away and in this way it was signed, accepted. My involvement had been cut off long before anyways.

After I left, in 1953, I established the Bureau of City-Planning, Architecture and Construction in our apartment in Tunel Nergis sokak (street). I moved my office to Istiklal Caddesi (street) in 1959. In the meantime I bought the land on top of the three stories in Ihlamur Palas apartment which was on Sakayik Sokak (street), next to my previous residence Cimenzar apartment, that is to say I bought the rights to expand on the existing construction according to the new laws of the land, and I added three stories and in 1975 moved my office to the very top floor. In 1992, I arranged the balcony of the top floor and settled in my office overlooking the Bosphorus. I currently continue there.

After Prost left, we corresponded once almost every week, every fortnight. I would tell him about everything happening in Istanbul. He related to me every important thing that was happening in Paris. At one time he wrote: “You have not come to Paris for a long time. We would be so happy with your visit to Paris”. In the meantime, quite coincidentally my niece Marie Therese who was studying medicine in Paris was in Istanbul and she was returning. I had not seen my older sister for a long time. I decided to go to Paris both to see my older sister and to meet with the professor. It was the year 1957. It is one of my memories. Prost was then president of the Grand Monuments Council in France. The second day we were in Paris he invited me to a meeting of the council. There was an important issue on the itinerary of the meeting. A new building project that was proposed by an 8-member architecture group at the fantastic gardens of the terrific Unesco building and it was an honor for me to be invited to such an important meeting. When the meeting started in the large living room of Unesco, on one side where the 9 members of the council and the president Henri Prost, on the other a large scale model of the project and the architects that were proposing it. The moderator first gave the right to talk to the architects. And they explained why there was the need for such a building with great conviction. We returned to the livingroom after going out to the garden and investigating on the spot, to decide. After councilmembers stated their views one by one, the moderator gave the forum to president Prost. Prost gave a short answer: “I will let my esteemed colleague Aron Anjel take the stand”. I lived the shock of finding myself intervening unexpectedly in a high-level meeting where I had attended as a guest, but I gathered my senses and said: “In this gorgeous garden, no matter how beautiful this terrific building, it still would not be appropriate” and I stated my opinion with these words: “Si cette batisse existait je l’aurai detruite” (If this building existed, I would have demolished it). This was Prost’s answer: “Je suis tout a fait d’accord avec l’idée de Mr Anjel” (I am completely in accordance with Mr. Anjel’s idea) and the project was rejected.

Another memory. In the time of Adnan Menderes 11, a board of architects was established to start new projects among the projects done by Prost. But there wasn’t a single city-planner among them. As a result, Adnan Menderes, meeting with the Development director of the time, decided to invite Prost for a month to get some ideas, for the fundamental issues concerning city-planning  that were being undertaken in Istanbul. And inviting me, they said: “If you could get Prost to accept this invitation, we would be very happy”. In this way I got to meet Adnan Menderes too.  Because we were continually corresponding with Prost, I mentioned this invitation, he did not offend me, he accepted. When Prost came to Istanbul, he had consultations with Adnan Menderes about both Ankara and Bursa and Istanbul over city-planning and in this way delivered his ideas to Adnan Menderes with a report. Now here I have a memory. I had contacts with Adnan Menderes while coming from Ankara to Istanbul a few times by phone during this time. One day when we were passing in front of the Palace of Municipality in Sarachanebasi, I showed the palace and stopped the car. Next to Fatih camii(mosque), on one side the Palace of Municipality, on the other the mosque, I said while showing them: “This Palace of Municipality that you see has been constructed on about 8 floors including two basement floors and according to the decisions taken concerning buildings inside city walls, when buildings over elevations of 40 are not permitted to have more than three stories, this building has been constructed with three more floors. This characteristic affects both Fatih Camii and Sehzadebasi Camii in terms of silhouette”. He paused, thought, took my hand in both of his, and said “Mr. Anjel, I promise you, this is a new construction, in 2-3 years I will have the extra floors demolished... The year was 1959... Two years later we lost him.

In the meantime I attended a lot of conferences, symposiums, lectures, I received diplomas and declarations. For example this is what is written on this declaration: “Presented to the honorable Aron Anjel at the 22nd conference celebrating 100 years of city planning on this world city-planning day, for workshop participation, session leadership, debater and his valuable contributions with our thanks. TMMO City-Planning Room Nov. 5-7, 1998 DSI Conference Room Ankara”. They had invited me to this conference. A lady arrives at noon, I later learn that she is the head of the City-Planning Department of the ministry. She says: “The ministry has an exhibition, we want to show this exhibition to you”.  “I am here as the head of a department, everyone is asking questions, I cannot leave” I said. She replied: “We learned that you do not eat lunch, that is why we will take you and show you the exhibition”.  ‘If it is at lunchtime, with pleasure”. That lady was the head of the Development and Planning Department.  We left, and went there. She had an assistant, another lady. We walked around. I saw that they took me to a big project, an older project.  “What do you think of this?” I looked, “Not bad, it is pretty close to my ideas, because I can see that that there are separated arrangements everywhere, greenery and so on...” I said. They took me towards the end of the project... that is why they have taken me there... I looked: Drawn by Aron Anjel...

In reality Bagdat Caddesi (street) in Kadikoy was 10,5 ms. I wanted the new buildings to be constructed to be 10 ms back from the road on both the left and right sides. We took this 10 ms, added it to the road and it became a 30m wide road on the Bagdat caddesi of today... The year is around 1949-50. It is the period before the Democratic Party. Then you see, where ever you look, it is greenery. This is what I say: A city without greenery is a sick city. I give examples in  my speeches. I devised a plan where I envisioned all the area between Haydarpasa and  Bostanci as a separated arrangement expect for the existing arrangement and it has been applied in exactly the same way till today. But I regret to tell you this: generally when every building needs to be pulled back 3, 4 or 5 ms depending on the borders of the neighboring buildings, you can see that on the application these distances are 1, sometimes 1.5 ms less. Bagdat Caddesi is also part of this plan. Other than this, in general, the plan for regulating the city’s development consists of three parts: One of them is the historical peninsula encompassing the cities of Eminonu and Fatih, meaning inside city walls. The second part: The area encompassing the cities of Beyoglu, Sisli, Besiktas, and Sariyer. The third one is on the other side, the last area encompassing from Üskudar to Beykoz, from Kadikoy to Kartal and the Princess IslandsNow, among these, the famous one, the one you think about first when you say Prost is Talimhane, even if it isn’t only Talimhane, Taksim Inonu12 Gezisi, the location of the old barracks, which became a stadium later on, Gumussuyu caddesi (street), the arrangements of Harbiye, Osmanbey and Macka, Sishane Yokusu (hill), Ataturk Bulvari (boulevard), the arrangements of the Eminonu, Aksaray and  Beyazit plazas, are all things we have planned. Some of these were planned and executed, some of them unfortunately stayed in the project phase, they were not approved of. 

For example, there are pictures and plans where you see all the details of a subway in 1943, the proposal to place Istiklal caddesi (street) one street behind, crossing the Bosphorus with an underground tunnel, the proposal to turn the shore road between Eminonu and Yesilkoy into a pedestrian-only green corridor, the houses of Levent are all proposals that were planned but that stayed on paper. I did Yesilyurt. Bagdat Caddesi.. but two-story buildings, because I dug and dug underneath. At 12,5 m I hit water. What it was, there is a big lake underground there. And it is sweet water, exceptionally sweet. I have a villa there. The laundry you do with that water is the best laundry. It can even be drinkable... Now all this plumbing and so on has been placed, all of them became septic tanks. It was permitted to build basements without keeping this underground lake in consideration in Yesilyurt. A second basement was built underneath, the foundation was 5 ms away from the water. In addition, other than the ground floor, four stories, and in some places five stories were permitted. During the last earthquake (Aug. 17th, 1999 Kocaeli earthquake) most of the buildings were damaged. It is imperative to take up this matter urgently with the underground lake and earthquake factors in mind, and to specify the number of floors.
 

I did my military service for three years between June 1st 1945 and May 30th 1948. Six months was in Akhisar [a town in Anatolia], six months in Iskenderun  [A city close to the Syrian border on the Mediterranean coast in Turkey. Previous name Alexandrette], one year in Ankara at the Defense Ministry, and one year was spent in Istanbul.

The war that the French declared in 1939, and the British right following them against Hitler, wasn’t an ordinary war. It’s name says it all, it is called World War II. It was a matter of an instant for us to enter the war. Consequently we had to be on edge constantly. Our population wasn’t that much. They started calling some of the ones who did their military service in the 1940’s as reserves. And considering every possible outcome, military service was extended to three years. At that time, all non-Muslims, except medical doctors were enrolled as soldiers into the army. I was also taken as soldier despite so many diplomas. They put me in the Building Department in the General Staff. I was in civilian clothes at work to avoid the contrast with officers of higher rank.  A few months before my military service ended, the permission for non-Muslims who graduated university to become officers was put into effect. I gave a petition to the Pasha that I was assigned to in the General Staff to be able to use this right. He rejected my petition saying, you are fine here, your military service ends in a few months anyways. After that I worked under General Nuri Yamut Pasha in Istanbul, in the 1st Military Headquarters. In this way I was in every barrack in Istanbul.
 

I speak and write in French, English, Spanish and Greek in addition to Turkish.

I am a member of T.M.M.O (Chamber of Turkish Architects and Engineers), City-Planning Office, the Turkish-French Cultural Organisation and Italian Culture Organisation. I try and share my knowledge and experiences with others by the Institut Francais des Etudes Anatoliennes (The French Institute of Anatolian Studies), Observatoire Urbain d’Istanbul(The Urban Observatory of Istanbul), the Organisation for Preservation of Historical Turkish houses where I am a member and by the conferences I give in various places and by the discussion groups I attend, by my articles titled  L’Empire Ottoman (The Ottoman Empire), La République Turque et La France (The Turkish Republic and France), and the Italian Architects in Istanbul in the 19th and 20th Centuries.

In the Development Plan that we prepared with Henri Prost I had prepared the first project for the Sports and Exhibition Palace in Macka Parki that was Park no. 1 in the plan. In this building that was named Lutfi Kirdar, many years later when we organised a big exhibition with his son Guner Kirdar, more than a thousand guests attended including past mayors and heads of municipality. I took the stand with Guner Bey’s insistance and gave a speech lasting over an hour, talking about all the projects and applications we worked on livening up the exhibition and finished up with these words:  “Henri Prost, the world-famous French city-planner who was invited to Istanbul by Ataturk to prepare the development plan for Istanbul, the honorable acting mayor and head of municipality Lutfi Kirdar and myself, worked hand in hand for twelve years to turn Istanbul into a paradise. Afterwards, the leaders of Istanbul, whether it be the Mayor or the Head of the Municipality, together, turned this beautiful, unique city into  hell. The meeting ended with the applause that lasted for minutes. No sound came out of the mayors or heads of municipality from the past that were present in the room.

I was invited to a conference last month. 7 professors. They all talked for 3 hours and then the chairman of the conference, Professor Erder, asked me if I wanted to speak after the coffee break, Of course, I said. As you know, at this stage, a girl and a boy student walk amongst the audience with a microphone in hand to extend it to people who want to speak. I, on the other hand, was invited by the professor to the podium where he was sitting. I spoke for exactly 40 minutes. But during this time, this is how I spoke: “I would like to apologize, what I am going to say are my ideas that might seem contrary to Istanbul or the University. But I cannot refrain from telling them. City-planning is a law, without law you cannot have a Development Plan. The Development Plan of the city is like the constitution of a government. Laws follow up. Zoning comes after the development plan. Every zone is a law. You specify industrial areas, residential areas, commercial areas etc. You do not allow activity outside of these borders. It is forbidden to incorporate components of another area in a zone. First you determine what each zone is going to be appropriated for, that is to say you determine the identity of the zone. The plan is drawn up according to these facts. Before anything it is imperative to do the zoning with the development plan, that is how it is done in the United States, in France or Japan. Highrises in Istanbul? When you enter Istanbul that has existed for 2500 years, there is Gulhane Park on one side and the palace... and on the other side Haydarpasha is being used as an ordinary port, the cranes have lined up their mouths like wild animals... you cannot enter Istanbul like this. Consequently this is my point of view... Before anything Istanbul’s Development Plan has to be redone. In this plan you have to give an identity to Haydarpasha. Afterwards, depending on the identity, you can have as many project proposals as you wish. In one word, you cannot just make haphazard building plans without a development plan. I reiterate: Can you pass laws without a constitution? You have to study law first in universities for city-planning."

I was honored by many plaques because of my professional activities. For example, in 1971 I was given “30th year in the professional world” by the Turkish Architects Organisation, in 1992 “50th year in the profession” by the Chamber of Architects. In 1999 I was honored by a Gratitude Plaque from the Fatih Rotary club, in 2002 a thank you plaque from the Chamber of City-Planners thanking me “for my contributions to the development of the chamber and the formation of a professional group in city-planning, theoretical and practical operations in city and town-formations”. Among the many plaques and awards I received, I also have a title of privilege from the Chamber of Spanish Architects.
 

I have been trying to be useful to the community of which I am a part for long years, as a member of the Neve Shalom Synagogue 13 Foundation and Turkish Grand Rabbinate Law and Development Commission, as long as my health permits, I intend to keep working. I was honored in April of 1995 by the Board of Directors of Neve Shalom Foundation with a thank you and honor plaque.

I have served as the technical consultant of Neve Shalom Foundation Board of Directors from 1952 to 1992 voluntarily. I have overseen the restoration of all of the synagogues in Istanbul including the Ashkenazi and the Italian synagogues.  At the beginning of 1986, it was decided to renovate Neve Shalom Synagogue. During months-long construction, the whole room was renovated including the walls, decorations, the columns, the marbles of the bimah and the doors, the dome, windows, air conditioning and heating. The flooring of the main sanctuary was covered completely with marble.  The only thing left was the placement of the seating rows. It was a Friday and the next day, Saturday was the opening. I came for a last check-up and saw that the marbles that replaced the mosaic flooring were not mopped, they were full of stains. The opening ceremony could not take place in this situation. I called the Grand Rabbinate and the Board of Directors of Neve Shalom and I told them it was not possible to do the opening and proposed postponing it to a week later. It was accepted. I made the people who were inside the synagogue aware of the situation. But the next day, Saturday, even though the synagogue was closed, a group of close to twenty people including some tourists who entered without permission was formed. In the meantime, two foreign terrorists, unaware that the opening was postponed, entered the building and murdered the daveners spraying them with guns and exploding bombs.  Thank G-d the opening ceremony was postponed. This was a holy coincidence, but despite that, unfortunately we lost twenty-three of our co-religionists 14.

As far as the funeral was concerned; Neve Shalom was in ruins. The ribs of the terrorist were stuck to the dome. The iron inside the columns was out in the open. The surrounding area around the bimah and the room adjacent to it that belonged to the rabbis was completely burned down. Part of the balcony on the mezzanine that belonged to women had collapsed. While the building was in this state, the Board of Directors, city and municipality officials, and our Grand Rabbi David Asseo gathered to plan the funeral of the dead in the directors’ buildinging. Since the internment was going to be at the Ashkenazi cemetery, it was thought that the religious ceremony should take place there too. I took the stand and said that it would be more appropriate to hold this ceremony in the Neve Shalom Synagogue. I asked permission to investigate the final condition of the synagogue so we could come to a decision. I had investigated the place the day before. But I thought it was appropriate to look it over again to come to a final decision. I investigated the surroundings again and without any hesitation, I told them that I would take all the necessary precautions to be able to hold the funeral ceremony in Neve Shalom in two days. It was agreed upon. And I can proudly state that to hold such a ceremony at the place of the incident versus holding it in the cemetery was a tremendous example of a representation.

Let me also add this, at the entrance to the Ashkenazi cemetery, the right row from the entrance was starting to be allotted to Sephardic Jews gradually. The Ashkenazim appropriated the left side for themselves, because their population is low in numbers, the entrance to the cemetery was empty then. As you can see today, our veterans are interned there according to a project that I hastily drew.

I can say this with one word: G-d has protected us at the first and second bombings of Neve Shalom synagogue and the bombing of the Sisli synagogue 15-16].

After the first bombing of Neve Shalom, the construction and the iron we used to renovate the front doors were so strong that the effect of the second bomb was defused at the entrance. At the Sisli synagogue, as you know, the main synagogue and the entrance open up to the upper road. The building, of which I drew the project and oversaw construction, faces a second street on the lower side. There was davening in the main synagogue at the time of the bombing. Thank G-d, the terrorists were not aware of this arrangement. The building I built is basically the one that is appropriated for cultural meetings. The main rooms are not used for praying except for important holidays. Consequently, only the synagogue portion is used on Saturdays for davening. In this way, there was no loss of life inside.

No one can deny that a holy power has always protected us from the unbelievable dangers that we have encountered. Yes, so many governments, so many empires have turned to ashes, but we managed to stay standing.
Let’s come to the Wealth Tax affair 17. They imposed a tax on my father. The prime minister Sukru Saracoglu was my father’s student. My father went all the way to Ankara and met with him. Saracoglu said “my teacher, my teacher” but did not provide any help. Whereas my father was a professor of three languages. Even though he did not have a great wealth, they came to take our furniture. Before they took them, they had stored all our belongings, including a gramophone, in a room with a fireplace that looked to the front in the flat that we lived. My sister was sick and wanted to listen to music. I would go out on the ledge, where there were approximately two or three steps to the place where the gramophone was, move while holding on tight and we would use the gramophone. You cannot forget these things. The tax was gradually paid off, I do not remember how many liras it was, I had just returned from Paris in 1942. They imposed a tax on my spouse’s family too. He was a merchant of electrical installation, they took quite an amount of merchandise in place of money.

I welcomed the formation of the Israeli nation ecstatically. I, for one thing, am very attached to history from a historical point of view. So much that when I was in highschool there were the last world history exams. The history teacher liked me so much that look what happened. I, for one had memorized the books in such a manner that when I was talking about them, in my mind I was turning the pages... and my teacher when he was teasing about me to others, that is how he described me. I took the baccalaureate test in Galatasaray. I had an oral test rather than a written one for history. Our teacher was not in the panel that day. They awarded me 4.5 instead of 5. The next day my teacher turned everything upside down, “he is my best student, the one who knows history best. How dare you give him a 4.5”, he said and changed my grade to 5. Coincidentally I valued history a lot in my lifetime. After that, as you know, I studied archeology, Byzantology. I say it everywhere, city-planning is not only about the statistical survey of the stuff we see on top of the earth, no one should do a project without knowing what is under the ground especially in historical cities. I have a great example in my hand now. In Israel, a device has been invented where it can take the photographs of things 30-40 ms under the ground. A very very helpful and interesting phenomenon.
 

We met with my wife Eleni Langada, we called her Milena, in 1945, in Arnavutkoy [A district on the shores of Rumeli by the Bosphorus] at a gathering of friends. She had studied in Sainte Pulchérie’de [French all-girl junior high founded by the Filles de la Charité nuns in 1846. Today it has been converted to a coeducational high school] which was in Taksim. She was interested in the French book I held in my hand, our friendship that started on this pretext developed and we were married on February 3rd, 1950 at the Beyoglu Evlendirme Dairesi(Public Wedding Office). Our wedding witnesses were Prof. Henri Prost and the famous attorney Resat Saffet Atabinen who was a graduate of the Paris Sorbonne University, and the head clerk at the Lausanne agreements. All of my colleagues at the municipality of Istanbul where I worked honored our civil marriage with their presence. At the time the mayor and head of municipality was Dr Lutfi Kirdar.

My wife, being of Greek descent, was born on May 24th, 1924 in Bebek [A neighborhood on the shores of Rumeli on the Bosphorus]. Her father who was a merchant of electrical installation, was named Nikola, her mother Aleksandra, and she was the only child of the family since her sibling Francois had died at a very young age. She lived in Arnavutkoy, in Beyoglu and Nisantasi. I lost my wife, who had been involved in the leadership and public matters of the community, suddenly on April 23rd 2006. She had gone to Taksiyarhis church on Sunday morning for Easter service. We had decided to meet at lunch time, after the service to go eat together. An unexpected telephone call delivered the sad news. It seems she felt bad in the church, they sat her down on a chair and called a doctor, but she left for eternity before the doctor could make it. We said our final goodbyes to her on April 26th, Wednesday after the religious services in the same church. You can appreciate how hard and difficult it is for me to lose my life partner with whom I spent more than a half century in a happy partnership under these conditions. But I think this is how it always happens in our family, the family members, if I may use the expression, die “while still alive”.

There was no reaction from our families to our belonging to different religions. On my side even, while I was still hesitating whether to get married or not, how strange was it that it was Tante Eugenie who encouraged me. She said “This girl loves you, she is a good girl” and directed me towards taking a decision and within two weeks it was done and finished.  Everyone continued with their religion and their beliefs. All three of our children are married to Muslims. We did not have any problems since we embraced all religions. I hope no one is offended but what is important in this world are feelings and humanity. G-d is a force who oversees all the planets and stars in the universe, the movements of all creatures. But the result is that, it is a formidable force whose origins are not known... That is what I believe, it is a force we do not know, we cannot know... There was such an atmosphere, I will talk about it at a conference. As a result of a big coincidence we lived these 3 religions together and still do. Marrying someone from another religion is only possible with a strong love... it is not a necessity or occupation, it can only be done with love. What did this love accomplish? At the time this life starts, and I have lost one member, that is to say I have lost my wife, I felt the same thing... We celebrated all the holidays as a family together and we celebrated without any difference. Whatever holiday comes upon us, we would gather right away and we still do. We made all three of our beliefs the possession of our family.
I wish from G-d that our celebrating these three religions all together with conviction serves as an example.
 

I have three children, one boy and two girls.

My older daughter Ester Ethel was born on October 26th, 1950 in Beyoglu. She finished her education in Sisli Terakki lisesi (highschool) and Notre Dame de Sion and married Yayla Hepari who was both a musician and civil engineer. Her son Uzay who was a famous musician died in a motorcycle accident at a very young age. When Uzay died, his wife was pregnant. My great-grandson who was born five months after the accident finished fifth grade in elementary school this year and moved on to sixth grade. He is inclined towards music like his dad, takes piano lessons and attends the conservatory. In winter he lives in Nisantasi, and in summer in Bozcaada [on the Aegean sea, formerly known as Tenedos island].

My second daughter Brigitte was born on January 10th, 1956 in Beyoglu. After finishing Sisli Terakki Lisesi (high school), she graduated from the Interior Architectural Department of  Mimar Sinan University. She works at the workplace they started with her husband Engin Yaman who  is an architect as well as teaching interior decorating for long years. They live in Nisantasi in winter and in Buyukada (largest and fourth island on the Princess islands). Their son Cem also graduated from Mimar Sinan University. He left to serve his national service for twelve months while preparing for a masters in architecture. He prepared 24 projects during this time, and complete with a declaration of thanks from the army. He is planning on completing his masters in Architecture.

My son Albert Fransua Simon Nejat was born on April 17th, 1959 in Nisantasi. His real name is Albert which is my father’s name. The names of my uncle Simantov who died a week before his birth and the name of my wife’s younger brother Francois who died at a very young age have been added. There is no reason for Nejat. He finished Sisli Terakki Lisesi and graduated from Istanbul Technical University, Electrical Engineering Department. He is carrying out his profession in the office he founded named Bati Muhendislik(Western Engineering). His wife Tuna Alp is a graduate of Bosphorus University18. They met while working at Koc Bank and currently she organizes technical seminars about Bank Services and Management in various cities around the nation. They live in Nisantasi in winter and in Buyukada in summer, and they have a son who was born on January 18th, 1995. On his identification card the name is Roni Alp Anjel. He took the names Alp which is his mother’s father’s name and Aron, meaning Roni that is his father’s father’s name. Currently he moved on to sixth grade in elementary school.
 

I have been trying to be useful to the community of which I am a part for long years, as a member of the Neve Shalom Synagogue Foundation and Turkish Grand Rabbinate Law and Development Commission, as long as my health permits, I intend to keep working and sharing my knowledge and my experiences with anyone willing to listen to me. 
 

Glossary

1 Sehremini: in 1854, the municipality duties of Istanbul were transferred from the kadhis to the newly formed Sehremaneti. Sehremini is the person in charge of this organization that provides the security and the clean-up of the city, in a way, it is equivalent to the mayor’s job of today (1868-1958).