This is a general digression from the on-going tale on matters concerning
A) Family, House and Home
B) Jewish Community and Environment.
These factors were a pivot around which events took place.
I have made these notes from what I remembered, experienced and noticed in my growing years – till the age of 15 when World War II began in 1939 and on and off from then until my visits, when convalescing as a disabled soldier of 21 in 1945 – when my mother transferred our home elsewhere. Histories have been written of the Jewish Community (Hebrew Congregation) and of Middlesbrough at large, but I am not well acquainted with them.
The on-going chronological tale after Part I will be resumed later.
Part II (A) – Family
My Mother's Father Hyman (Chaim in Hebrew and Yiddish) Smollan came from the townlet of Lazdejai and her Mother Hannah (family name uncertain) from the town of Suwalki. Both these places were near today's borders of Lithuania Byelo-Russe and Poland. At the time they left for Britain sometime in the 1870's, the area was under the Russian Czar. My Mother, Fanny (Chyennah in Yiddish) Smollan, their eldest daughter was born in 1882 in London. My Father, Moshe Dov /Ber – Alter/Alfred came from the townlet of Goniadz, south of the above-mentioned places and near to the town of Bialystock. He was also born in 1882, the first child in the family who survived as an infant. His parents were Simchah and Rivkah Leah Gzovsky. Simchah was an itinerant tailor and died young in the snows when my Father was 12 years old, and he had a younger brother and sister. My Father's name at birth was Moshe Dov in Hebrew; Meshe Ber in Yiddish and was given an additional name in Yiddish – Alter, meaning "old" because of the children who had not lived before him, with the hope that he would live long. Once in England his name Alter became Alfred.
So at the age of 12 he started working in the tailoring trade. He mentioned that he would get so exhausted that, hiding behind a door, he could doze off standing up. Even as a child when I heard this I was skeptical until dozing off while standing on guard in the Army. Generally my Father was reticent about talking about the past and my Mother would recount to me things she had learnt from him. He did mention that it was the custom amongst the non-Jews that when a pogrom took place they would not harm their Jewish neighbours but would attack Jews elsewhere. By World War II things must have changed because at the neighbouring townlet of Jedwabne it was disclosed by a witness in 2001 that the 50% non-Jews in the town slaughtered their Jewish neighbours in June 1941 before the Germans arrived (Jerusalem Post April 20th, 2001).
About the time that my Grandmother Rivkah Leah was widowed, Simchah's brother Yisroel, set out for Britain and my Father's younger brother Sol went with him. I presume that the situation was so difficult at home what with pogroms, poverty, and sickness that my Grandmother sent Sol off to a better place at the tender age of 9; he never saw his Mother again. Sol (Zalman in Yiddish) was brought up in his uncle's home in Leeds (also in Yorkshire), married and had a big family. My Grandmother Rivkah Leah remarried. My Father, who it seems was due to be conscripted into the Czar's Army, set out for Britain, was caught on the way and thrown into prison. The family got to know and managed to find a rouble to bribe the guards and my Father eventually got to Britain. I didn't learn the facts about how he made his way to the German coast, who helped him, how he managed to pay for the journey and so-on. He arrived in Britain and went to his uncle who promptly told him to take the "English" name that he took "Greenberg", instead of Gzovsky. Eventually he got to Middlesbrough, worked for my Grandfather Chaim Smollan and married my Mother in 1905. Chaim Smollan had a son Yitzchak (Itchi) from a previous marriage and he grew up together with my Mother and when he came of age, left home and joined the Indian Army. My Mother had 5 brothers: Zelig, Barney, Benjy, Aishy and Nat, and five sisters: Betsy, Rae, Leah, Hindy and Blumey. In World War I Zelig was wounded in his head, Barney lost an eye (he was huge and served with Grenadier Guards) and Aishy and Benjy also served. Much has been researched on the Smollan Saga, going back to my Mother's Grandparents and siblings, by descendants world wide by Jeremy Hodes in Australia, and by the initiator of the "Kehilat Middlesbrough Newsletter" on the internet, Donald Wiseman. On my Father's side, his younger sister Bertha emigrated to New York and her married name was Atlas. Until WWII my Father used to write to his Mother's husband and presumably his half siblings – the family name of whom is not known to me. They must have perished in the Holocaust as there was no communication after the War.
My siblings were as follows:
Sam (Simchah) z"l, b. 1906
Rae (Rachel) z"l, b. 1908
Blanche z"l, b. 1910
Bertha z"l, b. 1912
Twins: { Phil (Shragai—Feivel) z"l, b. 1914
{ Dora z"l, b. 1914
Twins: {Sadye z"l, b. 1916
{Anne (Hannah) z"l, b. 1916
Linda z"l, b. 1918
Hymie (Hyman, Harvey, Chaim) z"l, 1927
My Father died in February 1948 and my Mother in February 1961. All my siblings died between the years 1983 – 2002. A very significant part of our lives pivoted round our home when we were all together. My Mother once said "I don't care what happens to me if I can only get to the street where my family live."
Following are very brief descriptions of my siblings and their place in the family circle: SAM
My eldest brother Sam (Simcha, named after my Father's Father) was born in 1906. As before mentioned we all started off at Marton Road Elementary School. Sam went from there to the Technical School which had just opened about 1922; he had a good head but a restless bottom. He did try to help my Father in his workshop. That didn't work either and he took a suitcase and went out "travelling" (as they called it) to the surrounding villages and townlets. There he peddled his wares from door to door on a credit basis, moved on to opening retail clothing shops (drapery) and had some of his siblings working for him at various times. His shop at 84 Newport Road was set out like a miniature self service walkaround and the joinery was done by Mick Solomon, later to become his uncle. Sam had an artistic hand and would write out ornate price tags and signs like
"Clothes make the man
We make the clothes
Be a man."
After the War when he served in the Fire Service, he went into other modest retail ventures. He was a 6 footer and with raven black hair, popular in the community where he served on synagogue committees and also the Burial Society. He sent me out on my bike collecting from synagogue members and I hated it, but the fee pushed me on. He was much sought after as a "first footer" on New Year's Eve, by his non-Jewish friends who thought him appropriate for bringing luck in the New Year. He used to act as a judge in resolving disputes between his siblings. In 1935 he married Rose Bergson of Sunderland.
RAE
Rae wanted to be a pianist and I would stand beside her as she played and sang all sorts of songs and some in Yiddish, like "Eli, Eli, Lama Azavtani". But she had to go and help Sam and she looked after the "Stocking Shop" at 171 Newport Road. I went there as well and helped her a bit. Pocket money was always welcome. In 1938 she married Bernard Green from Manchester and moved to there.
BLANCHE
Blanche studied to be a teacher in Sheffield and taught at the Fleetham Street Elementary School in Middlesbrough. She was very active in the community and was the leader of the Jewish Girl Guides Troop. On occasion the Troop would make a ceremonial entrance into the Shool (Synagogue) with the pennant flying. She chose to try and take me in hand but I wasn’t very cooperative except for receiving pocket-money. In 1938-9 she became very friendly with a non-Jew and despite all the efforts of the Rabbi and his wife, who were her close friends, she went off and married him in a registry office. In those days marrying out was looked upon as an act of deserting the family and community. I took it very badly and would send back the letters from her with pocket money unopened until after some years my Mother insisted that I give up.
BERTHA
Bertha was the tomboy of the girls. My Mother used to say that they found her on the door-step, because she was different from her elder sisters. She worked in the shop in South Bank. In 1933 she married Leslie Simon of Manchester: this was the first wedding in the family and there was a big splash. My Aunty Anne from Newcastle made all the dresses for Bertha and her 6 sisters who were bridesmaids. The dresses were all of different colours, and it was called the Rainbow Wedding. [Ed note: clickhereto see photo]. Hymie was a page boy and cousin Babsy a page girl. My brothers were groomsmen and I was peeved because I was the only one left without a job. Bertha and husband went to live in West Hartlepool and I used to visit, volunteering to work in the garden, helping in grocery and sweet shop – on the sweets side – and taking the kids out of the way to the pictures – with a big bag of sweets. The marriage dissolved after the war and she remarried.
PHIL
Phil was Dora’s twin and they were poles apart in appearance and character. Phil had poor eye-sight and not being a good student, used his head in other directions. He finished Elementary School owning a huge sack of marbles that he had won. I started school as he left and I must have lost the whole lot. He went to work for Sam, “travelling” and selling at markets in the district and then tried his hand independently. As soon as possible he learnt to drive. The eye-test in those days was identifying the number of the car travelling in front and his friend saw to it that there was a “friendly” car in front at the time of the test: He was an outstanding driver despite all. He always had a second-hand car which he could take to pieces himself and repair. He was not only a very hard worker but devoted to ballroom dancing and the girls who were part and parcel of the picture. After nearly marrying one of them, Dora got him to take an interest in a distant relative of ours, a civil-servant, sweet, kind, thoughtful, well-mannered – in short, the complete opposite of what he was – and lo and behold, he became the same! So he and Miriam Winer married in 1942. He also served in the Fire Service during the war and they later went off to Australia.
DORA
When Dora was coming into her teens it seems that my Mother needed more help with the house and family and a live-in maid was not enough: so Dora had to skip school now and again, which wasn’t easy because the school “bobby” had to follow up absenteeism from school. So Dora used to keep the house in tip-top shape and give her sisters hell if they didn’t knuckle-under and help in their free time. She served as an auxiliary nurse during the War and in 1941 she married Hymie Bernstein, then a soldier from Leeds. When Dora’s Hymie came into the family, we decided to call our Hymie “Chaim”.
SADYE
Sadye and Anne were twins and as unidentical as could possibly be. Sadye had black curly hair and was a firebrand with an electrically charged atmosphere around her. She tried working in Father’s workshop but said that Father sent her packing because she couldn’t bite the thread. She also worked with Sam in his shop and then went to Leeds to work as a tailoress. There she met her future husband Joe Ochberg and they were married when he was in the army. They changed their name to Hepburn. The family emigrated to Israel in 1949 with an organized group from Leeds and changed their name again to Ramati. In hospital just before she died she was typically giving out instructions right left and center.
ANNE
Anne had straightish hair and much less darker than Sadye. She also had strong views about anybody and everything, like Sadye, but her views came over more subtly. She excelled at making the peace between her siblings. She worked with Father in his workshop contentedly for quite a time and then went with Sadye to work as a tailoress in Leeds. There she met and married Ben Zion Maskill who was soon conscripted in 1938 and did all his service overseas till the end of the war. She and her family emigrated to Israel in 1949 with Sadye and family.
LINDA
Linda was 5 years older than me so I knew her a bit better than the others in the family. She had very strong views about everything and was fiercely independent. On leaving school and after working with Sam for a while she insisted on going to a nurses training school at Leytonstone down south. She qualified and after nursing during the war, she became Matron on the sick wards at the Manchester Jewish Home for the Aged. In 1948 she volunteered for the Israel Army service as a lieutenant in the Medical Corps and was invalided out with sickness. Her independent spirit was weakened. She married, had children, separated and unfortunately died before her time.
TERRY
I was number 10 in the family, and my story goes on.
HYMIE (CHAIM)
Hymie was 4 years younger than me. My first memory of him was seeing a quiet chubby infant contentedly sitting on Mother’s lap. Once he was at school we grew up together but it must have been hard for him trotting after his more active brother who looked after him, but I think bullied him a bit. The rest of the family classified us as “spoilt” because we were the youngest and got more attention from Mother than they thought they had had. Scholastically we did go further but Mother’s participation was such that she expected us to be top of the class and become doctors or barristers at that time. I didn’t quite understand that one of the options was to become a "”bannister”! Hymie also won a scholarship to the Middlesbrough High School, so went thought the same school, same Jewish Youth Group (Habonim) and so on. When I went to a Jewish Student Summer Camp in 1942 (of the Bachad Movement) he tagged along, at least 4 years younger than all the students there, but gave his age as 16 and so joined the work group. We were evacuated from Middlesbrough together in September 1939 on the outbreak of war when the school was set up first in the coastal resort of Scarborough, and then in 1940, after returning to Middlesbrough for a few months, we were evacuated again to a rural area along the upper river Tees near Barnard Castle. There he had to suffer as the younger brother of the Senior Prefect responsible to the Head Master for discipline in and out of school. We started studying together at Manchester University in October 1945, after the war, living first with Rae and Bernard in Manchester for a couple of years, and then with our Mother (my Father had died in February 1945) when we moved to own house. Chaim took studying in his stride. It was a common sight to see him stretched out on an armchair sleeping with a big tome open on his chest. He couldn’t understand how – when we were at school and billeted in the same house at one time, and later at University, -- I would still be busy studying in the early morning hours if he should chance to wake up. So he imbibed knowledge while dozing and I during sleepless nights. Chaim qualified as a doctor, married a fellow student, June Lewis, from London, served in the army Medical Corps for 3 years, and then he and June and the children moved to Canada. He unfortunately died before his time.
Part II (A)
House and Home
Except for my younger brother Chaim (Hymie-Hyman), we were all born in 75 Marton Road (or in a house previous to this) – a three storey house without an internal bathroom and toilet. Hymie was born in 133 Southfield Road in 1927. This house also had three stories with a bathroom and toilet inside the house. Every corner of that house interested me, maybe it was an indication that I was to become an architect. At the entrance level on Southfield Road there was a front garden with a decorative cast-iron fence to the road; the fence was taken down without ceremony in World War II, to provide steel for arms. Coming into the house was a heavy wooden door which was nearly always open and behind it we stored the deckchairs for sitting in the garden which was a doubtful pleasure because of the "midgies" in summer. Beyond the vestibule was a glass door and surround with a fashioned pattern in the glass and this led into the entrance hall. On the left side was a hall-stand for clothes, brushes and umbrellas, and stairs going up to the first level. On the right, there was the guest room (parlour) with a fireplace and easy couch and chairs, sideboard, and the bay window looking out on the front garden. When my grown up siblings had a friend then it wasn't proper to barge in. Further on the right was the dining room, a bigger room with a fireplace and a paved terrace which had been enclosed with glass in wood frames and looked out onto the back "garden" and yard. This had a small bookcase in the corner with some books of Jewish interest. This room had a big pullout table of solid mahogany with eight heavy legs on wheels – it was always pulled out to what I thought was its full length, about the size of a table-tennis table – and we actually played table-tennis (ping-pong) on it, but too many balls went sizzling into the fire if it had been lit. I found more sections for extending the table in the attic. There was also a heavily mirrored ornamental sideboard, fitted cupboards round the fireplace, a couch, easy chairs and the radio was placed there with its heavy chargeable accumulators. The hand-operated gramophone also used to be set up there. The dining room was used mainly for dining on Shabbat and festivals and on Seder nights, when it became the focus of the special festival meals. Parallel to the steps up there was a narrow corridor leading to the living kitchen. Under the stairs were cupboards, one where I used to throw my football togs, which I never put in the washing and a big cupboard for storage, things like cups, salt, potatoes, in quantities. The living kitchen had a big window looking onto the back yard and "garden". There was a huge black iron fireplace and fitted cupboards on one side. The open fire was nearly always alight, except on hot summer days, which were not many. This fireplace was a very efficient unit with a permanently heated oven on its right side and arrangements for heating water up to the boiler in the bathroom on the left side. The open fire was used for heating the irons for ironing which was done on the kitchen table on one corner if no-one was eating there. My sister Dora would also heat her curling tongs for her straight hair – her twin Phil had curly Zulu hair. In winter whoever was in the kitchen would line up with their backs to the fire, pushing for a place, the girls discreetly lifting their skirts for more warmth. Hymie, at the age of about 5, knocked a kettle full of boiling water over his leg while stoking the fire, like his elders. Around was all the paraphernalia, mantelpiece with trimmings and the household brassware above, and near the fire all the rakes and irons for arranging the fire. There was another elaborate sideboard, a big table around which all the family could sit and easy chairs and bookshelves with some of the popular books of the time, like Edgar Rice Burroughs, Rudyard Kipling, Sir Walter Scott (which I couldn't stomach) and later more up-to-date authors. One of the family had been even bold enough to put a book there on he and she. Except for very scholarly people with means, most homes had few books because the free library system was so good and if novels were in great demand, there were shops for lending books for payment.
There was an awkward step coming down from the corridor into the living kitchen with air holes in the riser -- through which the mice would come out to play if you were sitting quietly late at night. Above the door was an electric signal board which showed if someone was pressing a bell in the main rooms, so that the servant could be called, but the family used the living kitchen and the bells were used – if they worked – only when special guests were entertained – on which occasion the maid got all dolled up with hat and apron for the performance. On the other side of the living kitchen was the scullery. The scullery had on one side a small sink and side surface and a table on which I used to do my woodwork—it was more used for working kitchen activities -- and there was a window looking onto the yard and "garden". On the other side was a concrete built tub for washing, probably gas-heated, and next to it a huge gas stove – a high oven on the left side and burners on the side with shelves for pans above and below. When I was twelve, on this stove I would open a gas connection and fit the tube of my Bunsen burner when no-one was there, and one time, having learnt about distilling water, I made an apparatus of test tubes and glass tubes all fashioned as I had learnt in the lab at school. The result was it blew up in my hand and miraculously neither I or my cousin Alan who was watching the experiment, was hurt by the shattered glass. On these gas burners my mother would make "mead", a drink made from hops for use on Pesach (Passover). This was a well known procedure amongst the women of the community with one of the experts starting the fermenting process from eggs and supplying the other women. The result was a powerful highly effervescent drink. I was the odd-job man deluxe in the house and I would be sent with bottles in a basket to deliver to friends and family – if I went on the bus or tram, the movement would cause the corks to pop out and I just didn't know where to put myself. I was also embarrassed when I had to take a hen to the slaughterer – also in a basket, and the unfortunate bird would stick its head up high out of the basket and crow away. These things definitely did not happen to non-Jews as far as I remember.
In the corner of the scullery on the left side of the door going out to the yard was a walk-in pantry with a window – here cooking supplies were kept and also cooked food. My brother Phil on coming home from work would often stand there knocking back a few pieces of gefilte fish and a bottle of lemonade to keep body and soul together while a meal came up. The menfolk kept themselves away from the mysteries of cooking; my father knew how to fry an egg and make tea and I, having seen someone making Welsh Rarebit, tried my hand at it and nearly poisoned Phil. One day Phil came home from work and asked Dora, his twin sister, whose work was at home helping my Mother, to make him a drink of tea – she kept putting it off because she was busy and then Phil exploded and actually threatened if she didn't make him a cup of tea he would make it himself! In later years we also had one the first models of a washing machine in the scullery. A bucket was placed under it to collect the used water and was invariably forgotten while the scullery was flooded.
The back yard with its bit of a garden, was a fascinating place for me. In this space was the vegetable garden which I worked when I was about fourteen and fifteen, trying to grow vegetables from seed and producing potato plants with only flowers and no potatoes, and miniscule carrots which I implored my mother to add to the cooking. (see photo) Occasionally I would collect horse-manure, which was plentiful, for the garden, but I got neither good crops and fortunately not tetanus. The yard stretched up beside the "garden" to the back of the dining room – sometimes a sunny spot where I used to take snaps. In this area the lines were put up for the washing. The lines had to stretch from hooks in the party wall to hooks on the side of the house. They had to be set out every wash day and any vegetable garden got in the way a bit. To get the washing dry and not dirty from the soot laden air was a feat in itself. There were mad rushes to bring in the washing as it started to rain and the ditto to hang it up again. The big tablecloths were sent to the laundry. In the yard, a small wooden outhouse was built to give more space for the washing operation. When it came to washing I was there again, and used to "poss" the washing in a "poss-tub" with a posser. The posser was a heavy fashioned piece of wood with two handles sticking out and had a cross cut in the wider base for passing the clothes. I would lift the heavy posser and wallop it down on the washing in the barrel after the washing has been scrubbed. Materials were strong in those days. There was also a "wringer" in the yard. That was a heavy metal contraption with two big wooden rollers. The strong springs, similar to the old style car chassis springs would clamp two rollers very efficiently – it was operated with a circular arm and squeezed the washing almost dry – it was also used to dry-press washing which didn't need ironing. All this was good muscle developing exercise. The possing and the wringing were done under a covered part of the yard which was covered with corrugated sheeting well rusted and cracked. At one side of the covered area was the big double door leading out to the back alley. On the other side was the big "coal-house". There was an outside toilet in the yard next to the coal-house. Outside, there was also a "shafky" a Yiddish word for a wooden shelved box with a metal net door to keep the flies out. There was a mistaken idea that cooked food would keep better outside – maybe it was a bit cooler than the scullery, but if the door was left open the cats would take care of my Mother's inimitable gefilte fish. It was protected from the rain by a little pitched cover in which space there was a some junk and an axe which I would use for chopping packing cases for making the coal fire start. The nails were kept but never used. I still keep nails as a matter of habit. All sorts of treasures collected under this little pitched cover, such as a couple of long bayonets in scabbards from about the Crimean War period. Our bicycles were parked under this shed cover and my brother Phil used to manage to maneuver his car from the back alley through the big back yard door into this shed. From an early age he would buy second hand cars at a very low price (Morris Oxford, Cowley etc.) and take them to pieces and repair them. One of them had a "dickey-diver", an opening seat on the back of the car, open to the air. If I helped to clean a car on Sunday, he would give me sixpence. As far as cars were concerned her was auto-didactic. He would use a car for his travels round the neighbouring villages to sell wares. If a car was parked on the road at night the small lights had to be left on. In the small space of yard that was left, I and my older brothers could dribble a ball around. In those days when a bi-plane appeared overhead, there was time to take a ladder, stand on top of the pantry wall and wave to the pilot. The back alley, though unevenly cobbled, was a good place to have running competitions.
For us today a remarkable feature of town life was the activities that went on round the front and back door. This could only happen when there was normally always someone at home and for mothers to work outside the home was unusual. To the front door came Cyril, the milkman, with his horse-driven cart. The milk was measured out at the door – my mother would order in advance skimmed milk for making white cheese. When Cyril's horse heard his footsteps coming back down the path he would move on to the next house. Newspapers and weeklies were delivered to the door, my mother was an avid reader of the "Woman's World". Once a week the man came from the paper shop to collect payment. The same was with the doctor's man. Our family belonged to a Dr. Levy's "panel" (a Jewish name, but he wasn't Jewish). He wore a waistcoat with 4 pockets, with different small change in each pocket. I would stand gawking at the wonderful arrangement. For a ridiculous small fee Dr. Levy would come in his car to visit whoever in the family was sick, and could not get to his "surgery"; he would come straight into the house without ceremony and march straight to the bedroom where the sick lay. He knew the house well. My Mother gave birth to all her children at home and stories were told of the dashes that were made to bring him when my Mother's time came. I held the record for beating the doctor to the occasion when I was born. I was reportedly almost blue when he finally came. Dr. Levy had his "surgeries": one at the corner of Linthorpe Road and Park Road (a short distance away from where the tank from the Great War stood) and one near the old Market Place. Part of the surgery was a small pharmacy where one came up to the small aperture to pass the prescription over to the "chemist" and make a peep at the mysterious array of bottles and jars behind him. All "medicines" were mixed on the spot and we had to take a bottle previously received from him for refilling – or pay for a new one. There were no pills, and ointments were put into round matchwood containers. We often heard the expression "to get a good bottle of medicine". We used to have certain staples at home like "Milk of Magnesia", "Cod Liver Oil and Malt", and "Californian Syrup of Figs". "Epsom Salts" and senna pods were also in use. Dr. Levy’s waiting room used to strike terror into me. Everyone sat round the wall in absolute silence until they were called by a lamp lighting up above the doctor’s door. The huge table in the middle of the room had journals on it and to disturb the peace by reaching for one seemed to be an act of great valour.
There were popular “Grandmother remedies” for various complaints:
- mustard smeared on brown paper and stuck on the cheek to reduce toothache
- massaging a knock on the head with a silver spoon
- a lady’s stocking filled with hot sand and wrapped round the neck was used to relieve pains in the throat
- a bandage dipped in vinegar would be tied round the head to relieve headache
- goose fat spread would be spread over the skin to relieve the “itch”, which must have been “scabies”
- “Bitter Aloes” smeared on children’s fingernails would make nail biting distasteful. In this respect my cousin Babsy claimed in later years that she hadn’t suffered from infectious diseases thanks to the immunization she got as a child from biting her nails, the nails possibly having collected small doses of the diseases!
- something cold was shipped down a bare back to stop nose-bleeding
- boiling hot poultices on anything which looked septic
- There was one remedy which really didn’t work: I gave my Mother to understand that I would have preferred a shorter nose so she said I should massage it upwards every day. I gave up. However, it didn’t bother me like it seemed to bother the American singer Jimmy Durante, who made a story about his misfortunate stemming from his long nose, which physically, was always getting in the way.
Tradesmen would come to the door to take "orders", some even from Leeds. The local postman would come twice a day. To the front door would come gypsies selling beautiful "Spanish onions" on a string. From poor Jewish communities in Eastern Europe would come emissaries who obtained the addresses of Jewish homes in the town to collect for various causes. They spoke only Yiddish and their aggressive tactic of first putting their foot in the door didn't make them very popular: they were also heavily bearded and for some strange reason we kids called them "beavers".
Relatives and friends would call in without ceremony and were immediately plied with a cup of tea. Sometimes lone relatives who found themselves in difficult family circumstances would stay over. My parents and siblings family and friends would also arrive as guests for various periods. Sometimes it was overdone such as when a friend of the family was organizing a boxing event in the town and he brought his boxers in to stay over at our home, probably to save on hotel expenses.
Along the back alley to the back door the fishmonger would come. He had a small barrow and my Mother and her sisters seemed to be his best customers. He could also appear on the road sometimes. The coalman with his huge cart drawn by a couple of heavy Belgian horses with shaggy legs would deliver a ton of coal in bags of 1 cwt. on his back to the coal house in the yard. His khaki jacket must have been from the Great War. Through the back door the "dust-man" or "muck-man" would come to take the "dust-bin" to empty into his cart. Refuse was mainly "dust" because all burnable rubbish was thrown on to the open fire and the dust was cleared from the grate every morning. The back yard was sometimes home to a few hens and they wandered around at will dirtying the place: there was one that managed to spread his wings and disappear into some other abode. Their fate was sealed. Either the Shochet (ritual slaughterer) came to do his job in the back yard or as I mentioned the hen was taken to him in the public slaughter house – not a place for a young lad to visit.
In short, the ground floor of our home was an unforgettable back-drop to all the parts that were played out then and there was no lack of diverse characters.
Up the first flight of stairs was one bedroom, facing west, the bathroom and W.C., then up another few stairs was a big double size bedroom facing south and my parents room, which faced Southfield Road to the north and another small bedroom, the only room in the house that didn't have a fireplace. Up another flight of stairs was the attic with two bedrooms, one facing Southfield Road which had a fireplace and the other looking over the back alley and neighbouring back yards. There was also a boxroom with a sky light. The attic floor was fine for playing hide and seek. These rooms interested me a lot. For an inquisitive lad the boxroom was a treasure trove of interesting discarded objects (this must have started off my unfortunate penchant for hanging on to things and re-cycling them). The attic rooms had dormer windows: there was plenty of light but there was a cleaning problem because of difficult access. The front attic facing Southfield Road over towards the docks and the back attic faced block after block of masses of dull bricks without any greenery to relieve them. It was from here that I waited for and saw the Graf Zepplin airship coming from Germany on its way across England to America; this must have been in the early thirties. The attic rooms were so cold in winter that my Mother used to take a hot iron shelf from the oven, wrap it in a cloth and put it between the sheets. When first being sent to sleep in the attic as a young child I remember standing at the top of the stairs and shouting down for attention on any conceivable matter.
Such a house and family couldn't be managed easily. The needs were as today but the means to do them were very different. My Mother, sister Dora and the live-in-maid worked very hard. My other sisters were conscripted by Dora on their half day off work to help clean and I used to volunteer to get my hand in at anything going and the same went for Chaim: we helped with the washing, shopping, grinding salt from a block, grinding horse radish (chreyn in Yiddish), starting a fire in the grate, cleaning the yard, gardening, feeding chickens if we kept some in the yard, cleaning Phil's car and what not. My Father used to bring home cloth clippings and on a winter's night some of the family would sit down to making a cloth rug in a canvas base. Maintenance of the house, including cleaning windows from the outside, was done by tradesmen. My Father was out of the house working for very long hours. With every one of the family being an individualist there were some very lively encounters. Disputes were settled by Sam acting as the judge and Anne as the peace-maker. But there were plenty of light moments: a part time maid might be sent to shop for some elbow-grease; April 1st (Fools Day) was a time for pranks – changing the sugar and salt round – raising the alarm on something that wasn't and so on. When Chaim was a little boy one of his elders maliciously told him to go to the dairy round the corner and buy a 1/2 pint of pidgeon's milk. It seems that the dairy-man helped him out by saying that he had none at the moment. From time to time I would be sent to the local cooperative store, where we used to buy some things, to ask for the Persia Worran or the Divi Worran – in later years I learnt the proper words:-- Purchase Warrant and Dividend Warrant. I was once sent by my Mother to a green-grocers near the Gaumont Palace Cinema on Linthorpe Road to buy "knobble". I was almost in the shop before I realized that this was a Yiddish word and I couldn't remember the word in English, but just as the bell tinkled as I opened the door of the shop (shop owners used to live behind their shops in those days), I remembered the word "garlic". 133 Southfield Road is still standing but changes have taken place in and around.
Part II (B)
A. The Jewish Community and Environment
1. The Jewish Community
The point in time when I realized I belonged to the community must have been when I started school. The family circle was known and I didn't go beyond that. It was the Jewish Mother (the Yiddishe Mama) who in those days took it upon herself to guide the young in the difficult paths they had to take so their "tribal" identity would hold firm against the dominant outside non-Jewish way of living. One learned to recognize and keep close to other Jewish children not so much out of choice for who they were as for the need to keep together. My Mother laid down the rules of conduct. I was expected to participate fully in all school activities, make friends and behave myself with the extra provisor that because I had some sort of responsibility to the tribe I shouldn't let the side down. There were all sorts of provisors in relation to non-Jews which I seemed to take in my stride but they must have been difficult for me. I was not to eat their food or play in the street with them. I was not to go to school on Jewish Festivals. There was no school on our Sabbath Day (from Friday sunset to Saturday sunset), but with the Sabbath starting early on Friday afternoon in winter I came home early through an arrangement the Rabbi made with the school. Wearing a cap in class was forbidden so that the Jewish custom of covering the head was waived. The result for me was a juggling between sitting bare-headed in class and head -- covered in Cheder (Hebrew Evening School), Synagogue, and ambivalently at home. Someone in the family teased me that I used to go to bed with my cap on. I could be present at scripture lessons at school but ask for permission to sit outside when there were lessons in the New Testament. But all the same I seemed to do very well at absorbing Christmas carols and hymns (the hymns were in the main translations from the Hebrew psalms). All this bred in us a feeling of difference bringing with it a feeling that we were on a high behavioural and moral level, and because Jewish tradition prized scholastic achievement – mainly in Jewish Studies, we had what we thought were higher aspirations. But as against all this we sort of hit a brick wall. By and large my non-Jewish school-mates were very easy to get on with and I had some bosom friends amongst them; but here and there were indications in words and action that some of them thought of us as well beneath their level and were to be derided and ridiculed and accused of goodness knows what, no matter if we were poor or rich, stupid or clever, swindler or saint, crippled or athletic. So I know that I developed the complex of walking around with a chip on my shoulder as regards my environment.
This is to be seen against the statistics that Jews in Middlesbrough were less than 1% of the population. So I learnt to know who were the other families in my “tribe” (I use this expression to express the Jewish combination of race and religion which always went together) and how we were organized in the community. Historical surveys of the community have been written but I am describing what I grew up with. The people of the community were varied in their occupations. The ones who immigrated mostly in their youth from Eastern Europe were artisans (tailors, cabinet makers, dress-makers, cobblers, pedlars, retailers whose shops traded most wares, grocer, a butcher, a money-lender, etc.).
There were some who were employed to serve as officials and teachers in the religious requirements of the community and there were also others of this class who were invited to join the community from elsewhere. My connections within community institutions and activities were those that took place at the Synagogue (Schul) and Hebrew Evening and Sunday School classes.
The community had the following institutions:
In Hebrew In Yiddish
2 cemeteries Beth Olam Be-zelem
Beth Kvaroth - meaning place of everlasting abode
Synagogues Beth Knesset Schul
Hebrew School Beth Midrash Bismedras
Cheder
Talmud Torah
(The hall doubled as a general purpose hall for lectures, Purim parties, performances of our own and even Yiddish performances in which we participated as choirs and extras.
Ritual Bathhouse (Mikveh)
These premises were vacated in 1936 and there was temporary accommodation until 1938 when the new Synagogue was opened in Park Road South.
Activities
Organizations in and around the Synagogue were as follows:
Jewish Boy Scouts }
Jewish Girl Guides } For furthering good citizenship
Habonim Youth Movement (later to become Bnei Akivah Movement with the ideal of leading an agricultural life in Palestine)
Young Zionist Society (armchair Zionists)
Jewish Literary Society
Burial Society
Benevolent Society
and maybe more
An important unofficial institution was the Jewish Club in Grange Road – there the young bloods would meet on Sundays and sit round tables gambling to their heart's content. It was looked after by a be-hatted Moshe Yankel. One Sunday waiting for the family to collect for the midday meal my elder brother Phil was sent to bring home my eldest brother Sam from the Club. Time passed, then I was sent to bring them both home. I found them both thick in the middle of a card game. Looking back, what was missing as far as I could make out was an arrangement for adult Jewish Studies which had been the backbone of activities in Eastern Europe for observant Jews whose occupations and capabilities made this possible.
The Rabbi (Rav) Louis Miller, was employed by the community as spiritual leader, as head of the Hebrew School and as representative before the non-Jewish institutions and personalities. The Cantor (Chazan) led the prayers and read from the Torah (Penteteuch). He also performed circumcisions and acted as the slaughterer for cattle and fowls according to Jewish practice and ritual within the framework of the Municipal Slaughter House. I knew Rev. Silverstone as the Cantor until his death (about 1935) and the Rev. Wulwick, who trained me for my Bar-Mitzvah (Confirmation Ceremony) at the age of 13.
They both had good voices and the latter would subtly introduce opera melodies into the prayers.
The assistant Cantor Rev. Turtledove was a capable prayer leader but without the élan of a professional Chazan. He also taught in the Cheder and in the class before his I had his daughter Dinah as the teacher. I believe she married a French Jew, moved to Paris and perished in the Holocaust. All matters concerning prayer arrangements and appearances were in the hands of the Shamas (Shamash in Hebrew), who sort of paralleled the Sexton in churches. The President (Parnass) and the Treasurer (Gabbai) were elected yearly from the elected committee. Members of the congregation paid a yearly stipend and would secure their places in the synagogue prior to the High Festivals (New Year and Day of Atonement). In addition, members called up to the reading of the Torah were obliged to whisper to the Gabbai standing by how much he was paying for the honour, which the Gabbai then announced. This practice was not to my liking but the young and disadvantaged had a slim chance of being called up. The occasion of a birth, Bar-Mitzvah, marriage or death made it obligatory by custom.
So how did all this fit in with the double life the congregation was living in the dominant non-Jewish environment. I can only assume that the majority of immigrants coming in the latter years of the19th century as individuals knew that they were going to adjust their way of life from the closed ghetto-like communities to this open life in Britain. My Mother once told me that there were immigrants who arrived at their home, which was a sort of center for helping fellow Jews on their way, who took a good look at the non-Jewish scene and said that this was no place for an observant Jew – so they returned to their background of poverty, sickness, infant mortality, pogroms, occupation and educational discrimination so that they could live as observant Jews in their ghetto-like environment.
So the pattern of life in the community was by and large a juggling between Jewish custom and practice and everyday life in the non-Jewish environment. And this was how it worked more or less. The Yiddishe Mama kept a mostly kosher home (Kosher means in accordance with Jewish Dietary Laws). She would visit the Mikve (Ritual Baths), send her children to Hebrew School 5 days a week in the evening from 5:30 to 7:00 and on Sunday from 10:00 to 12:00, till their turn came for secondary education. This could only happen because after a long school day ending at 4:00 p.m. there was no homework for elementary schoolchildren and so we spent the evenings at the Cheder and usually stayed out playing with our friends. It was a long day. Came secondary school at the age of 12 with a schoolday ending at 4:30 p.m. and then homework. So just at the age that a boy would be starting to learn for his Bar Mitzvah (usually outside of Hebrew classes) he was making the choice of what to cut out and seeing that the general idea was to take your place in the non-Jewish environment – attendance at Hebrew classes dwindled down to Sunday morning. But on Saturday there was no school and the Yiddishe Mama sent her son to Schul. If he had the cheek to say that the rest of the family wasn't going he was told to pray for them all. And what was the rest of the family up to, which was the same for most families: their Father was working, the brothers were working, the sisters were working unless their occupations didn't function on Saturdays – namely teachers, some self employed, grocer and butcher. Saturday was the day for the shop-keeper and all that went with it. In the bigger towns observance of the Sabbath held out longer in specifically Jewish neighbourhoods. So you have the paradox of the community which painstakingly established and set up a Jewish framework which they brought with their vibrant Jewish background and adapting, almost to a man, a new life style. The Code of Jewish Law lays down very specifically the Jewish way of life; the community seemed to have written a new Code: viz.
If you feel inclined and your occupation and time permit, go to the everyday morning and evening service. Ditto for the Sabbath services. If you can pop out from your Sabbath occupations and spend a couple of hours in the synagogue so much the better – there the Rav will deliver his weekly sermon exorting you to do better. For those not fettered by work on the Sabbath the inclination determined attendance. The lay leaders had to fulfill their obligations on the Sabbath in their official capacity in the Sabbath rituals.
The 2 days of Rosh Hashanah (New Year) and the Fast of the Day of Atonement must be observed at all costs including attendance at the synagogue and not working. There were even overflow services and I was amazed to see once-a-yearers conducting the prayers as if they had never strayed from regular practice.
Homes have to be made kosher for Pesach (Passover) and every family must have its Seder for 2 nights (relating of the Exodus from Egypt about 4,300 years ago) even if, during the day, work, etc. took preference over synagogue attendance. No bread was to be eaten, only Matzah (unleavened Passover cake).
Women should use the Mikveh (Ritual Bath) if inclined.
Eating out is not so terrible but keep away from meat products.
Boys may consort with shiksas (non-Jewish girls) but not marry them.
Married men shouldn't stray from the home base but if they do, keep it quiet.
Girls should only look for Jewish husbands.
Be loyal citizens and do your duty and in so doing raise the standing of the community.
Be Zionists by supporting the ideal of the return to Zion, the land of Israel, after close on 2000 years being dispersed amongst the nations. Keep a white and blue alms box in the house specifically for coins for the Jewish National Fund to purchase land for Jewish agricultural settlement in Palestine under the British Mandate, to further a Jewish National home in Palestine. If you actually make the break and get to Palestine you'll be looked upon as a superman.
Adapt the customs relating to baring the head according to non-Jewish customs. At school no covering in class, obligatory hat wearing (at secondary school) outside uncover your head when a funeral passes. Cover your head only during prayers or when reciting a benediction usually only in the seclusion of your home or another Jewish home.
Be successful in every endeavour. Many of the children of immigrants became professionals in the framework of the then competitive British educational system. The Yiddishe Mama would introduce her 5 year old son as my son the Doctor. Even those on the borders of legitimate society excelled.
Some years ago the Jewish community in Middlesbrough ceased to exist. The only remaining evidence was the 2 cemeteries and they were afterwards desecrated by anti-Jewish hooligans. I think the seeds of the demise of the community were sown in its establishment which set the conditions for a Jewish tight-walk over its environment. There were those who cared about living some sort of a Jewish life, observant or less observant, and emigrated to Israel (about 40 such persons individually), other just left the town for all sorts of reasons, some moved to Jewish centers in the big towns. Others married out and whoever were left were not ready by and large to perpetuate a Jewish way of life and values.
2. The Environment
The environment in which the community developed was mainly the town itself. The nearby townlets and towns also had Jewish communities but I had hardly any contact with them. My acquaintaince with the areas near the town was mainly through cycling, hiking and family holidays at Redcar and faint memories of holidays with my Mother at Barnaby Moor above Eston Hills. Hiking and cycling was with the Cheder friends so we got to know the surrounding countryside and villages even as far as getting over the moors to Guisborough and Whitby.
Long journeys out of town were taken with family. If they were by train the journey took place on a Sunday when there was an "excursion" which was the name for a reduced rail fare. Sometimes our neighbour Ernie Hush would bundle us kids into his big car and take us out to Redcar or some place. A bus ride to Redcar was common but buses didn't seem to be popular for inter-urban travel, unless you were going on an organized trip – then there was what we called the "sharabang", the roofless bus – the name was Boro-ized from the French char-a-banc. As kids it was exciting to see that the world extended beyond Middlesbrough
My bike was the regular Bar Mitzvah present, a Hercules without a 3-speed, costing £2.19s.6d at Louis Bharier's shop in Newport Road. The town itself wasn't a place where I wandered around and I knew only the places which I wanted or had to go to: the swimming baths, scout meeting, the fairs and the circuses, the slaughter house, the Shul, Father's workshop, my brother’s and sisters' shops, the doctor's "surgery", the main shopping street Linthorpe Road, Newport Road, Corporation Road, the library, the picture houses (cinemas) and local shops . There were other landmarks like the Town Hall, which housed the Fire Brigade and the Police Station on Albert Road, Victoria Square with the bandstand and occasional brass band concerts.
There was the greyhound racing track, I think at Stockton, and my brother Phil took me with him once and we put a bet on a dog. When the greyhounds were let loose to chase the miserable mechanical rabbit I thought my heart was going to jump through my mouth at the excitement.
The town boasted the Italian Ice Cream parlour of the Pacitto family (the glass front was shattered at the outbreak of the 2nd World War) and some Chinese laundries (to which my Mother used to send the big white tablecloths which came back starched like glossy folded cardboard).
My Mother was once hospitalized in the Carter's Bequest Hospital and I in the awesome Fever Hospital.
I remember how thrilled I was when my brother Sam took me into Jack Hatfields sports shop, he seemed to know him well. Jack had been an Olympic swimmer. I would go to the barracks of the Green Howards in Abingdon Road to see Territorials turning up before the War, to houses of relatives and some families sitting "Shivah" (7 days of mourning), the railway station – not so much to travel as to see the trains puffing in and out and all the bustle there. Someone once took me on a visit round the steel works when I collected iron filings for experiments with my magnet. I didn't find any ball bearings for playing marbles. I never knew the dock area – we must have been discouraged from going there, but I used to go on the Transporter Bridge often when cycling to West Hardlepool through the ICI works to visit my sister there. I would wander around the "allotments" outside the built up area where townspeople could use small fenced areas for growing vegetables and flowers and train homing pidgeons: this was a boon for people living in crowded areas with no green space. Albert Park was a regular must for me and my cousins on Saturdays and Sundays: The park was well fenced and closed at sunset and there were abundant signs stating that "Tresspassers will be prosecuted" with a maximum price of some sum, signed by the Town Clerk Stanley Moffet. These signs were also in streets, municipal areas, where you weren’t supposed to tread. There was a lake in the park for boating and sailing toy yachts, catching "tiddlers" in a net, a playground with what seemed then a huge slide, tall swings, roundabouts, horse-swings, etc. – if you weren't careful you came a cropper. There were green areas where you could play rounders and small ball games, usually with non-Jewish kids which we met there, there were tennis courts and bowling greens for adults. Sam (in his white flannels) used to play there and also Blanche – playing dressed in any other colour but white just wasn't done. In season you could find "conkers" under the horse-chestnut trees--throwing stones to encourage the "conkers" to drop was forbidden but it depended on whether the "parkie" (park attendant) was around. A wooden pavilion with paths radiating from it didn't seem so much as a resting spot for adults as for grafitti and ditties to interest adolescents. Overlooking a smallish artificial pond was a cannon which had probably seen service with Wellington against Napoleon. Near the main entrance was the meteorite rock which was supposed to have fallen in the district and the Dorman Museum with its exhibits of stuffed tropical animals and a fascinating common fly hive with dire warnings of the diseases which flies can carry. Outside the park were the long long lists of names on black stone slabs of those who fell in the Great War. My Mother's cousin David Smollan was inscribed there. Just nearby was the Cenotaph memorial. The number of fallen from Middlesbrough was appalling. Also outside the park at the junction of Park Road, Park Road North and Park Road South, was a tank from the Great War. The type of tank appeared as part of the insignia on my beret badge of the Royal Tank Regiment, in which I serviced later.
Stewarts Park was about 3 miles out of town and was a great place to walk or cycle to. The road went through green fields passing the mysterious grounds of St. Lukes mental home. There were school outings in this direction; families would make their walk together on Sundays and once in the park you could find wonderful "conkers" at the copse near the entrance and jumping over the fence you found better ones. There was a big rolling meadow leading to the old mansion where there was a tea house and on the grounds was a monument to Captain Cook, the discoverer of Australia, who was from our district. The rolling field looked like a sea of waves on the ground, and was much bigger than plough-made furrows. I never knew how and why this phenomenon was there. In summer it was covered with bluebells and buttercups which in those days we were allowed to pick and take bunches home (excepting dandelions which we were told caused bed wetting. I later learned that the dandelion has more positive medicinal qualities in that direction.) I remember that one day at school a boy came in with an antique powder pistol which he said he found deep in a sort of cave on the left hand side of the mansion. In sharp contrast we used to go to some really mucky ponds in built up areas and catch newts.
From time to time there were military parades through the town and somehow I was very impressed watching soldiers march in full battle gear – tin hats, fixed bayonets and back packs. Of course in going to places there were things that attracted me on the way. I would often stop to see the blacksmith shoeing horses. Special street scenes were the local bobby on his beat ready to lay the law down but also to help: I remember seeing a bobby sitting in his cubby hole without his helmet on and smoking a cigarette and being surprised that he looked like a normal mortal. A Salvation Army group would have its brass band going at a corner and would be inviting onlookers to see the light. Street vendors were out to attract customers to buy ice-cream, the latest North Eastern Gazette specials and have knives sharpened. A Scotsman would turn up in full regalia and play his bag-pipes in the hope of collecting a few pennies. Though living conditions were hard for some, there didn't seem to be beggars around. There was a mentally upset character whom we used to call "shell-shock", who would race round the streets with his long coat tails flying. The lamplighters kindled the gas lamps in the street in the evening and must have extinguished them at dawn but I never was around to see them.
On a cycling trip out of town I remember coming on a field of daffodils near a stream and picking a bunch to take home. I climbed Roseberry Topping and cut my name in the soft stone at the top. (I never returned to see if time had deleted it.) At Pesach (Passover) time my Mother wanted milk which hadn't been in contact with any leaven so she used to send me to find a farmer that was willing to milk his cow straight into my container. I always found a farmer who seemed to understand and obliged me, but every year I had to travel further as the town was encroaching on the open areas around it.
Tramcars rattled along the main streets until they were replaced by buses connected to the same electric cables above. They were called the "silent killers" because they did not make any noise. I think they carried the name TRTB (Teeside Rail-less Transport Board). On the road were motorized vehicles and horse-driven carts. It was more stylish for a funeral hearse to be drawn by horses. I never saw any floods in the town which was topographically flat. The thoroughfares had plenty of drainage outlets for surface water which interfered somewhat if you were playing marbles in the gutters. I wasn't usually around when men were being eased out of the pubs at 10:30 when the publican would declare "time gentlemen please". And the pubs of Middlesbrough were something to talk about: someone claimed that statistics showed that there was more beer drunk per head in the Boro than anywhere else in the country because of the enormous thirst that was built up amongst the men working in the blast furnaces of Dorman Longs. Besides the pubs the fish and chip shops did a roaring trade selling fried cod and chips in newspaper cones known as a "tuppeny one and a penneth" . Because of the limitations of the Jewish dietary laws I couldn't participate.
I was very much aware of all the non-Jewish specifically Christian events in the town even though the religious content wasn't as evident: one exception to this was the annual Corpus Christi procession of girls in white from the convent, which passed by our house in Southfield Road and my Mother would be waiting for them, to hand out drinks. The community was more or less geared up to Christmas and the New Year at school and in the shops and on a personal level I remember insisting that I hung my stocking up at the end of the bed for Santa Claus to fill. My intelligence efforts revealed that my brother Sam used to fill it. Chanukah, the Festival of Lights to commemorate the victory of the Jews led by the Hasmonaens over the Greek-led occupiers of Judah about 2300 years ago, often came out at Christmas time, and we lit candles for eight evenings – some say that the custom of lighting up the Christmas tree came from this previous Jewish custom. I would wake on Easter morning to hear the vendors singing out "Hot cross buns, hot cross buns, one a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns." Bonfire night on the 5th of November was a must with full participation in the street bonfires and firing off crackers. This was to commemorate the thwarting of Guy Fawkes to blow up Parliament in days of yore (maybe he was the first known modern terrorist). The people of Egerton Street would come out and we would have a wonderful time round the bonfire with the fireworks and crackers keeping everyone jumping around – there were no accidents as far as I knew.
So that’s how the community developed from life in Eastern Europe to the new British environment in the muggy, drabbish and heavy industrial and beer propelled Middlesbrough with its tolerant, chummy, yet stubbornly chauvinistic townspeople who had gathered from all sorts of places mainly in the British Isles, to make it the “Mushroom” town of the north. “Mushroom” because it grew from a village in middle 19th century to middle 20th century to a town of 140,000.