MEMOIRS OF
SHERESHEV
By MOISHE
KANTOROWITZ
After the “Sukkoth”
(Tabernacle holidays), which brings with it the inevitable frost, my father
took with him an expert on trees by the name of Benjamin GOLDBERG and together
with a government agent from the forestry department, they left to pick out the
right trees which had to be cut for building our house. To build our house, the expert had to pick
the right trees from which 12 meter long and 6 by 12 inch beams had to be cut
for the walls of the house. The forester
marked them down, then they all left for the forestry
department to settle on the price. This
process took several days. Shortly after, peasants from the surrounding
villages and some local ones, began hauling in the
huge pine trunks, unloading them on our newly bought building lot, and on the
adjoining yard of the big synagogue, after an agreement was made with the
president of the synagogue. Specially
hired men began to peel the bark of the tree trunks marking them with straight
lines by placing a thin soot covered cord at both ends
of the log tautly, then lifting the middle of the cord and letting it snap
along the tree trunk. Each log to be
used needed to be hoisted onto two sawhorses on either side. One man stood on
top of the log and two below lifting and pulling a long saw up and down thus
cutting the log into the needed building material. A couple of crews worked at it continuously
throughout the entire winter. For me it
was a new and interesting experience.
There was no shortage of spectators, children and grown-ups. My friends
used to like going with me to watch, as with me they would not be chased by the
workers.
My circle of friends
became larger during that time, with the addition of the two brothers Lazar and
Litek ROTENBERG, Kalman
KALBKOIF, Itzik MALETZKY and Meir
KALBKOIF. Our group numbered 11
boys. The two brothers ROTENBERG lived
on the west side of
the “Mark” (town square). Kalman KALBKOIF on the south side, and Itzik MALETZKY in the southeastern side, right at the start
of
In early spring of 1932, hired men
started to get the foundation for the house ready. For this purpose, the large stones of the
previous foundation were used with the addition of more brought in from the
outlying farms. The stones were cemented
together forming a stone and cement quadrangle, giving the appearance of a
meter high fortress. On this foundation
the builders lay the first row of timber, which consisted of heavy beams, 10 by
10 inches thick. They were locked
together in the corners by cut outs (niches) in them. For good luck in the bottom beam, a little
hole was drilled into which an old coin was deposited plus a piece of bread and
salt as an omen for the residence for long and plentiful life. Who could have imagined then that only 7 short years later, the Bolsheviks would not only
take away from us our new home without compensation, but tell my father to be
thankful that we are not being sent to
The building of the house
took most of the summer, and I spent a lot of time watching the progress. Never the less, I did not forget to visit my
maternal grandparents, the AUERBACHs. From early spring, my grandfather, Lazar-Bear
used to bring to me at school different dishes or treats that my grandmother Freida-Leah or my mother used to make for me. At
That summer during my
many visits to my grandparents, I noticed my grandmother Freida-Leah
changing dressings on my grandfather’s neck, just at the base of his head. It looked like a fair sized ulcer. Over the summer I even noticed that it got
bigger. It seemed to me that they
intended to cure it without a doctor’s help, as it did not interfere in his
daily movements or activities.
The building of the house
progressed nicely. The house ran
parallel to the square. To the back part
of the house was added an extension under which a large cellar was built. In these cement walls of the cellar were niches in which
shelves were inserted, that could hold all kinds of jars, pots, etc. In the roof of the extension a “Fligl” (a movable part of the roof), was built in so it can
be opened over a “Sukkah”(Tabernacle),
which could be erected under it. To do
the carpenter work 2 brothers were hired.
One, Chaim TENENBAUM with his 2 sons “Itche” and “Berl”, and, the
second, David TENENBAUM, with his son “Berl”. They made the windows, doors and 2 porches
for the 2 front doors. One of those
entrances, the Bolsheviks closed in, after they took our house away from us. Our house was the only one in Shereshev that had a double floor. There was a space of 20 centimeters between
the two, which was filled in with charcoal.
The charcoal served a double purpose, to absorb the dampness and to keep
the warmth inside the house. In that
same summer of 1932, electricity was introduced in my shtetl. All summer long many of the townspeople
watched as workers were digging in tall wooden posts and copper wires were
being strung along their porcelain insulators.
In most houses a direct wire led to the single bulb in the house and the
proprietor paid a flat rate per bulb. We
must have been one in no more than a dozen households that had a meter, for we
had electric bulbs in every room .
Shereshev came into the modern
era, with lit streets, so that one could walk at night on the wooden sidewalk
without the danger of tripping over a protruding board. True, the lights or power used to come on at
sunset and go out at
The school year 1931-32
began and I found myself in grade 3. A
new principal by the name of Yaakov-Shaye PEKER took
over. The teacher Yoel
WALDSHAN became vice-principal. Another
local young man, just graduated from teacher’s seminar in Wilno
became a teacher too. His name was Yankl JUDELEWSKY.
There was another teacher by the name of NITZBERG from the neighboring
town of
Right after the start of
the school year, we moved into our new home.
Something strange or unusual happened to me, that I cannot explain even
today. A day or two, after we moved in I
began to get headaches. The worst used
to be as soon I got out of bed in the morning.
It used to ease up during the day, but the pain never left me
completely. To me it was unusual for I
never experienced headaches. A day
before Rosh Hashana (Jewish New Year), the Mezuzot arrived (a small tube containing an inscribed strip
of parchment attached to the doorpost of Jewish homes,) that my father ordered
in Brest-Litovsk some time earlier. Here
is the mystery. As soon as my father
affixed the Mezuzot to the doorposts, my headaches
disappeared for good. I leave it open
for the reader to come to any conclusion.
Through that summer and fall the sore on my
grandfather Lazer-Bear’s neck, despite my grandmother’s
attention, and the doctor’s ointment, got worse. Finally, the doctor suggested to take my grandfather to the Pruzany
hospital. As soon as the doctors took a
look at it, they told my mother to rush him immediately to Brest-Litovsk, where
there was a much bigger hospital and better qualified doctors. My mother took him to the hospital in
Brest-Litovsk, where he was operated on immediately. A couple days after the operation, the
surgeon told my mother to go home, as it is a long process and with her being
there, she will not help anybody, as my mother was pregnant then and had 2
little children at home, besides my sister Sheva and
me. My mother returned home for a few
days, leaving her father under the attention of the surgeon and some relatives
there. Two days after my mother returned
home, she received an urgent telegram from the hospital to come
immediately. In those days a trip from Shereshev to Brest-Litovsk was a matter of 24 hours. I
don’t know by what means of transportation she got there. I only know that she left immediately. When she got to the hospital there, the
surgeon informed her that it became necessary to operate on my grandfather
again and he could not wait any longer for my mother’s consent. He also told her that the operation took
place without an anesthesia because of his age and state of health. My mother was permitted to see him. He recognized her and asked if she heard his
screams during the operation. She
answered: “You know daddy I was then in Shereshev,”
to which he said “You could have heard it there.” My grandfather’s condition deteriorated very
fast. The doctor told my mother to take
him home, as they could do nothing for him.
He used those words and I am repeating the way my mother told us. “Only G-d in Heaven can help him now.”
How my mother brought him
back home I don’t remember. It had to be
by ambulance or taxi. He couldn’t have
withstood a train ride. When I saw my
grandfather the next evening, he seemed to be unconscious. The only word he was
continuously saying was “Water.”
Otherwise, he was oblivious to everything else. My mother and grandmother who were constantly
at his side, kept on wetting his lips, as the doctor ordered not to give him
anything to drink.
Right after school, my
sister Sheva and I used to run to our
grandparents. There were always people
in there, neighbours and members of the
synagogue. Maybe because of the many
people or maybe never having been confronted with a death in the family, I did
not realize the severity of the situation.
Two or three days later, coming into my classroom, a classmate of mine,
by the name of Abraham WINOGRAD, who lived 4 houses from my grandparents,
unceremoniously told me, that my grandfather died early that very morning. The teacher who came
into the class and heard the news, sent me home right away. From there I ran to my grandparents, where I
found the house full of people. My
grandfather was lying on the floor covered with a white sheet, two candles in
candlesticks, were burning on either side of his head. Bent over him, stood my mother and my
grandmother crying bitterly; the other women in the house, cried with
them. A few minutes later, a quiet
whispering took place between my mother, grandmother, and a few other
women. They put me down sitting on the
floor, with my back to my grandfather, my grandmother took his hand by the
wrist, rubbing his already rigid hand over my back, saying something so
quietly, that even I couldn’t hear what. The whole process took a minute or two. Today, I still don’t know what it meant or
what sort of a remedy or omen it was.
Nor do I know why they didn’t do it to my sister Sheva
or my almost 3 year old brother Liova (Leibl).
The “Chavrah-Kadisha”(voluntary burial society), started the “Thaharah”(purification of the body.) That is, to wash the
corpse and dress it in traditional “Takhrikhim”(Shrouds.) This is
done by men only, if the departed is a male, and by women if it is a
female. I stood by the entire procedure
and watched as they pulled out from the hole at the base of my grandfather’s
head, a cluster of dressings that left a space in which a man’s fist could
easily fit in. I looked at it in horror,
as a shudder went through me. In my 9
year old mind, I could not comprehend what they had done to my grandfather and
how cruel and merciless the doctors were to him. I was glad when they put the shrouds on him
and wrapped him in his “Tallith” (Prayer Shawl.), so
I wouldn’t have to look at the gaping hole in his head. When they finally put him on the “Mittah”(a stretcher on which the
corpse is placed and carried,) and carried him out of the house, I noticed that
my school and teachers were lined up in front of the house, waiting for the
funeral. As far as I remember or know,
this was the only time that the
Just like all other small shtetls
in
My grandmother Freida-Leah, did not remain long
in the house. She sold it and rented a
room at the house of an elderly widow by the name of Themma
KWELMAN. The house was on the same
street but closer to the centre, thus closer to us. That Themma KWELMAN
lived with a single son, Abraham, who was the assistant bookkeeper in the local
bank and with her 2 daughters. The name
of the older one was Feigl and the younger one Ghitl. The source of
that woman’s income was a store in the “Raad Kromen” (row of stores in the town square.)
It must have been
difficult for my grandmother to get used to her new life style, losing a
husband after 55 years of marriage, and having to leave the house in which she
was born and lived a life time. All she
had left in Shereshev, was her daughter, my mother and us, her grandchildren. My
grandmother corresponded with her son, our Uncle Shloime
(Salomon), since he left Shereshev and very little
with her other son, Philip, who used to write rarely, in contrast to his
brother Shloime, who used to be a prolific and
eloquent letter writer. Our grandmother,
Freida-Leah was a loving and wholly devoted person
and grandmother, and despite my sister Sheva’s and my
tender age, we understood and felt her love and devotion to us. Now, we felt came the time, although in a
small way, to reciprocate for all we owed her. There was not a day, that my
sister and I did not visit her and if, G-d forbid, it was getting dark, and we
had not seen her yet, our mother used to remind us.
Interesting
to note that my grandmother, Freida-Leah nee
GOLDFARB, could trace her ancestry in Shereshev back
many generations. I recall once, my grandfather, Laizer-Bear
took me with him to the cemetery on the anniversary day of the death of my
grandmother’s grandfather. How we struggled to get to the grave site in the old
part of the cemetery. The
fallen branches of the large trees, which my grandfather had to throw on the
side, so we could move ahead.
The moss on the grave-stone and barely legible inscription was all proof
of my grandmother’s roots in Shereshev. Yet my
grandmother had no relatives there in my time. All we knew is that she had a
brother, in Simforopol, in