My brother’s family did well. He worked at the Lithuanian symphonic orchestra and his wife was a singer at the Opera and radio. My brother was afflicted with cancer and died at the age of sixty. His wife left for Israel. She never remarried.
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Displaying 31471 - 31500 of 50826 results
Liza Lukinskaya
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My father lived for 82 years and died in 1969. My mother invited an old Jew from the synagogue and he read a prayer for my dad. I couldn’t have my father buried in accordance with the Jewish tradition – without a coffin. I couldn’t picture that my father would be in the earth. Father’s funeral was secular. Мy mother died in 1986, she was buried next to my father at the Jewish cemetery of Vilnius.
Neither Jewish nor Christian Orthodox holidays were celebrated by us as Vladimir was a member of the Party. I often cooked Jewish dishes and laid a festive table on Pesach. While my parents were alive we went to see them on Jewish holidays. It was a family reunion: I with my husband and son, and my brother and his wife; they didn’t have children.
My husband and I had a wonderful life together. In 1973 we got a nice three-room apartment, where I am currently living. My mother-in-law lived with us. She was a second mother to me. Ekaterina Nikolaevna died in 1976. As for the material side, we lived pretty modestly, like most people during the Soviet regime. We owned neither a car nor a dacha. But we often attended concerts, theater performances, read a lot, went on vacation to Palanga and the Crimea. We liked the village of Rybachiy in the Crimea, not far from Alushta. We made friends with a local family and went there on vacation every year.
Ekaterina Nikolaevna did well raising my son. My parents were also helping. Every day my mother came over to spend time with her grandson, but Alexander was missing his parents. I insisted that my husband should be demobilized as we had to come back to Vilnius and raise our son. In 1957 Vladimir was demobilized for the second time and we came back home. I found a job in the book-keeping department at a tinned food plant. I was promoted to chief accountant and worked there until my retirement. I left work in 1987.
My husband left for Leningrad and I stayed with my son. It was January 1953, when the Doctors’ Plot [21] was in full swing and doctors-poisoners were the most topical issues in the papers and radio. There was tittle-tattle among Vilnius Jews that there was an order to deport all Jews to Birobidjan [22]. I called my husband in Leningrad and told him about these rumors and added that if I got deported, I would leave my son with my mother-in-law. It was a very hard time. I was calm only after Stalin’s death. My husband insisted on my moving to Leningrad. We decided to leave our son with my mother-in-law and I moved to my husband. We lived in Leningrad for three and a half years.
My husband was a member of the Communist Party. I didn’t join the Party as I had been in the occupation. At that time it was disgraceful. After my son was born, I kept working at the secret department for a while and in the early 1950s, when state anti-Semitism was rampant, I was told to quit my job because I wasn’t a Communist. I found a job as an HR inspector in the Lithuanian Consumers’ Council. At that time my husband was called to the military enlistment office and drafted into the army for the second time. He was to be sent to the border with China, but he was lucky. He met his friend from the army in the military enlistment office and he offered my husband to go to Leningrad to teach at some courses for officers.
, Lithuania
In 1948 I gave birth to a son and named him Alexander. For a while my son and I were living with my parents. When our son turned seven months my mother-in-law – my father-in-law had passed away by then – exchanged her apartment in Leningrad for an apartment in Vilnius and we moved in with her. Our apartment was in the heart of Vilnius, consisting of two rooms and a kitchen. One room was taken by my mother-in-law and the other by my husband, son and me. My mother-in-law was a wonderful, clever and kind woman. She accepted me and loved me like her own daughter, helping me in everything, especially in raising our son.
Leizer and Hana-Beila had ten children – four sons and six daughters. All of them got traditional Jewish education. The boys finished cheder, then lyceum. I don’t know anything about the education of the girls. Anyway, the children of Leizer and Hana-Beila were literate people. By the irony of fate none of the daughters had children, and the brothers had two or three children. All of my father’s siblings perished during the Fascist occupation. First Hana-Beila gave birth to daughters. Then the boys were born. The eldest sister Ida, born in the late 1870s, helped her mother raise the younger children, and rejected all her fiancés. Ida remained a spinster. She never worked and lived with grandmother Hana-Beila.
I heard that Grandfather was a religious person, but not a zealot. He observed Jewish traditions, celebrated holidays, went to the synagogue and had his own seat there. I remember grandmother Hana-Beila. When the family came back to Lithuania, on holidays she came from Kaunas to Siauliai, where one of her daughters lived. Grandmother seemed very old to me. I remember that she prayed in the mornings. On Fridays she and I lit the candles on the eve of Sabbath. Grandmother didn’t cover her head, but as for the rest she totally looked like a traditional Jewish woman. She died in the early 1930s in Kaunas and was buried at the Jewish cemetery there.
My paternal grandfather, Leizer Abramson, was born in the middle of the 19th century in Kaunas. He was a merchant. He owned a small furniture store in the center of the city. His business was rather lucrative. Grandfather’s family was rich and they had their own house in Kaunas. Grandmother Hana-Beila was eight years younger than him. In accordance with the Jewish tradition she got married at a young age and became a housewife, taking care of their home and raising the children. I didn’t know Grandfather Leizer. I didn’t live to see him as I was born in 1920. At that time the whole family – grandparents, their adult children and their families, young single children – were exiled from Lithuania. When World War I started, the tsarist government exiled Jews from frontier territories. My grandfather’s family happened to be in Ukraine, but I don’t know where exactly. Grandfather died there in either 1916 or 1917.
Lazar Abuaf
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It was a period where antisemitism was prevalent as it was in the whole world, I did not hear about any nonMuslim being tortured in the army. They put the nonMuslims to do the hard work, they made them carry loads, break stones.
In winter we took our baths in our room that was heated by a large brazier made of copper. We took our baths especially on the Sabbath day, that day we would remove the rug of our livingroom to a corner, my mother would bathe us first since we were little, then my older sisters would bathe, and herself last. This was the system: We would carry the water that we heated up in large pots in the kitchen to the pan we had in our livingroom and cooled it down with the addition of a little cold water, (we would either sit in this pan or stand up), the rest of the cooled water we would keep in another pan next to us, as we soaped down, we would use a cup to rinse ourselves with this water, after the supplies were gathered, the floor would be dried and the rug replaced. My mother would finish the housework with the help of my older sisters, prepare the food for the Sabbath, set the table and light our Sabbath candles. Then we would be ready to greet the Sabbath and we would wait for the hour of my father’s return from work (even though he was very religious, after he opened the winestore, he could only get home at 8:30). We would pull the table to one corner so my father could bathe, remove the rug again, pour the hot water in the pan, of course because it was the only warm room in the house, we would be in the room too. We would chat while my father bathed in his underwear, when he said to us “Ari ari arsh”, we would turn our backs to him, in this way he would finish his bath, put his towel around himself and dry up, we would wait until he dressed up in a corner and said “Ari ari arsh” to us and us boys would put the rug, table and chairs back to their places, and my older sisters would bring our food. Of course it saddened my father a lot to greet the Sabbath late like this, what a pity that he could not manage otherwise, he could not close up his store earlier, he had developed a certain clientele and he had to respond to them. Because my father missed the prayer in the synagogue being late from work, he would recite the evening service after he finished his bath, we would listen to him, following him taking his seat at the head of the table, we would recite the Kiddush, and eat our meal. When my father had only one hardware store, everything was more in order, for example on Fridays we would take our baths, wear our clean beautiful clothes and go to the synagogue with my father, on our return, my mother would have prepared our table, we would bless the Sabbath with songs and eat our meal. On Sabbath evenings, before we went to bed, we would call in any neighbor passing by who was not Jewish and ask him to turn off our lights.
On Saturday mornings, we would wear our clean, beautiful clothes again and go to the synagogue with my father. Leaving the synagogue, my father would invite his closest friends home, and we would eat our meal all together. My mother would have prepared things like borekitas [similar to empanadas, crescents of cheese or eggplant filled dough], boyikos [baked round cheese pastries], bulemikas [curled phyllo dough pastries filled with cheese and vegetables], there was no need to warm them up, we would not light a fire that day anyway. After the breakfast, accompanying people who played the lute (because all my family had beautiful voices and because they knew how to enjoy life) we would sing either religious Hebrew songs or songs from Turkish Art music.
On Saturday mornings, we would wear our clean, beautiful clothes again and go to the synagogue with my father. Leaving the synagogue, my father would invite his closest friends home, and we would eat our meal all together. My mother would have prepared things like borekitas [similar to empanadas, crescents of cheese or eggplant filled dough], boyikos [baked round cheese pastries], bulemikas [curled phyllo dough pastries filled with cheese and vegetables], there was no need to warm them up, we would not light a fire that day anyway. After the breakfast, accompanying people who played the lute (because all my family had beautiful voices and because they knew how to enjoy life) we would sing either religious Hebrew songs or songs from Turkish Art music.
Before Passover arrived, the ladies in our house would clean our house and our kitchen together the way our religion dictates. We had special flatware and dishes that we used only for this holiday called “Loksa”(Judeo-Espagnol term). The pots, dishes, glasses etc. that were necessary for the holiday would be washed and put in their place. However, my mother had developed a system to kosher some of the pots that she needed. She would put water in these pots along with a few nails, a piece of iron, and a few other things that I can not remember and put it to boil. After rinsing the pots that were put to boil like this with lots of cold water, now we could use it for the holiday with peace of mind. During this period, we would eat our meals in our livingroom that was on the top floor, or in the garden if weather permitted, on the ground floor there should not have been pieces of bread on the floor anymore, likewise the night before Passover we would look for crumbs of bread at every corner of the house and in this way our house would be ready completely. Even though my family paid the necessary attention to our religion, we never had separate plates and flatware for meat and dairy dishes, or two sinks in our kitchen.
, Türkiye
That evening, I mean the evening of September 6, 1955, [14] I closed up the store around 7 p.m., we were supposed to meet with my older brother Kemal who worked in a store named Bakara, right across my store; we saw a tremendous crowd in the street. We tried to understand what was happening but could not pinpoint anything. A lot of looters were walking with sticks in their hands, shouting “Raise the Turkish flag”.
I separated from Kemal at Taksim, and walked toward Tunel to get to my house. The looters were breaking the windows of stores with sticks, and emptying the contents of the stores into the streets. They first broke the windows of my store that I doted on, they scattered the goods I had inside, they broke the huge crystal full-lengthed mirror at the entrance. I witnessed these events and could not do anything, these people were blind with rage. I stood and watched quietly and bawled. When the bums went away, I entered the store, pulled down the shutters and raised the flag. I entered the house crying. The disaster continued all night. That night I decided to leave Istanbul and settle in Israel. I had 3,000 liras in the bank, I gave half of this to my partner and decided to immigrate with my family. All through the night, we saw refrigerators thrown from windows, washing machines, radios, record players, mounds of fabric that were squeezed between cars and pulled and torn, the streets were full of knee-high fabrics. The events continued till 3 or 4 in the morning, and the military took charge of the situation, placed a curfew and things calmed down.
At 6 in the morning, I walked from Shishane towards Eminonu to better understand the destruction all around. All the stores were destroyed, the streets where the fabric stores were filled with heaps of rags, hundreds of broken appliances covering the streets. The three-story “Kadikoy Bonmarshesi” (Superstore of Kadikoy), that was considered the first giant store of its kind was gone. Of course most of the stores that were destroyed were ones that belonged to nonMuslims. Even though what I saw was scary, it was proof that it wasn’t just me that was targeted. I retraced my steps toward Tunel, the soldier there said “Sir, you cannot proceed from here, there is a ban”. When I said “My store is a little further down, it is destroyed, how can I not go and see, please use your conscience”, he let me. Even though I entered the street, there was nothing in place of my store, I could not locate it. Even though I finally found the place with difficulty, they had even tried to bring down the walls with axes. All my merchandise, my gloves, my scarves, the handbags made from genuine alligator skin, whatever I had, they tore with knives, and they stole a lot of my merchandise too. I found the cash register of the store, 50 meters away, next to the building that is Karaca Theater today. I calculated, my losses were exactly 70 thousand liras. The same day, the prime minister of the period, Adnan Menderes [15] and the mayor of Istanbul (unfortunately I do not remember his name), addressed the people from an open car and said “My dear citizens, may you all recover soon. We will determine your losses, please take in the merchandise that is undamaged and we will establish your losses”.
I gathered my merchandise, put the ones that were relatively in good condition inside a safe, and sat and cried and cried, and then went home. My decision to immigrate to Israel was strengthened.
I separated from Kemal at Taksim, and walked toward Tunel to get to my house. The looters were breaking the windows of stores with sticks, and emptying the contents of the stores into the streets. They first broke the windows of my store that I doted on, they scattered the goods I had inside, they broke the huge crystal full-lengthed mirror at the entrance. I witnessed these events and could not do anything, these people were blind with rage. I stood and watched quietly and bawled. When the bums went away, I entered the store, pulled down the shutters and raised the flag. I entered the house crying. The disaster continued all night. That night I decided to leave Istanbul and settle in Israel. I had 3,000 liras in the bank, I gave half of this to my partner and decided to immigrate with my family. All through the night, we saw refrigerators thrown from windows, washing machines, radios, record players, mounds of fabric that were squeezed between cars and pulled and torn, the streets were full of knee-high fabrics. The events continued till 3 or 4 in the morning, and the military took charge of the situation, placed a curfew and things calmed down.
At 6 in the morning, I walked from Shishane towards Eminonu to better understand the destruction all around. All the stores were destroyed, the streets where the fabric stores were filled with heaps of rags, hundreds of broken appliances covering the streets. The three-story “Kadikoy Bonmarshesi” (Superstore of Kadikoy), that was considered the first giant store of its kind was gone. Of course most of the stores that were destroyed were ones that belonged to nonMuslims. Even though what I saw was scary, it was proof that it wasn’t just me that was targeted. I retraced my steps toward Tunel, the soldier there said “Sir, you cannot proceed from here, there is a ban”. When I said “My store is a little further down, it is destroyed, how can I not go and see, please use your conscience”, he let me. Even though I entered the street, there was nothing in place of my store, I could not locate it. Even though I finally found the place with difficulty, they had even tried to bring down the walls with axes. All my merchandise, my gloves, my scarves, the handbags made from genuine alligator skin, whatever I had, they tore with knives, and they stole a lot of my merchandise too. I found the cash register of the store, 50 meters away, next to the building that is Karaca Theater today. I calculated, my losses were exactly 70 thousand liras. The same day, the prime minister of the period, Adnan Menderes [15] and the mayor of Istanbul (unfortunately I do not remember his name), addressed the people from an open car and said “My dear citizens, may you all recover soon. We will determine your losses, please take in the merchandise that is undamaged and we will establish your losses”.
I gathered my merchandise, put the ones that were relatively in good condition inside a safe, and sat and cried and cried, and then went home. My decision to immigrate to Israel was strengthened.
Even though the military law stated: “In a family with more than one son, only one will be drafted to the army, the second son will be drafted after the first returns to the homestead”, while Kemal was still in the military, when I reached the age of drafting, I told my father: “My dear father, let me finish this military obligation so I can start my life properly”. As you know the mantra in the military is “learning the art of war”. The length of the service was 3-4 years then. My family did not reject my offer, and I applied to the military. In this way, we both became soldiers in the same period, I was a soldier for exactly 36 months (1947-1950). When my older brother Kemal started his military service in Ankara, he worked in granaries for a long time, then his commander who learned that he could type very well, transferred my brother to the offices of the Defense Ministry and made him a transcriber, after this he had a comfortable military experience.
I, on the other hand, drew Alemdag, here in Istanbul, out of the lottery. When I became a soldier, there were a few minor changes in military laws, such as: At the military headquarters they gave us our weapon, our rifle in our hands; my brother Kemal, on the other hand, never held a gun in his hand. The commander of our regiment examined each soldier and learned about his talents. When it was my turn, my commander asked: “Private, what do you know, what do you do?”. “Sir, I can do carpentry, and ironworking, I can even sew if necessary, I am very handy”, I replied. In this manner, they put me to work in the workshop at the Art House. 5-10 people, along with me, gained the right to work in the workshop. When our work in the shop was finished, we also went through the military drills, we learned how to hold a gun and shoot, we took part in the manouvers. Our main duty was the workshop. 15-20 days later, I had the “home papers”. Every Friday, I would leave the barracks at 5 p.m., and would go home, I would take off on Sundays at 6 p.m., and return to my troops around 8 p.m. Life went on this way, because I was working in the workshop, it would be a lie to say I did a military service.
I, on the other hand, drew Alemdag, here in Istanbul, out of the lottery. When I became a soldier, there were a few minor changes in military laws, such as: At the military headquarters they gave us our weapon, our rifle in our hands; my brother Kemal, on the other hand, never held a gun in his hand. The commander of our regiment examined each soldier and learned about his talents. When it was my turn, my commander asked: “Private, what do you know, what do you do?”. “Sir, I can do carpentry, and ironworking, I can even sew if necessary, I am very handy”, I replied. In this manner, they put me to work in the workshop at the Art House. 5-10 people, along with me, gained the right to work in the workshop. When our work in the shop was finished, we also went through the military drills, we learned how to hold a gun and shoot, we took part in the manouvers. Our main duty was the workshop. 15-20 days later, I had the “home papers”. Every Friday, I would leave the barracks at 5 p.m., and would go home, I would take off on Sundays at 6 p.m., and return to my troops around 8 p.m. Life went on this way, because I was working in the workshop, it would be a lie to say I did a military service.
While I was still in this school, the government of that period passed a new law named “Wealth Tax” [13] to improve the economy. They produced a number for every tax recipient, (but especially the nonMuslims), at their discretion and forced the individuals to pay it. This event was the cause of a lot of families’ downfall. Since my father had two stores they asked for a very high tax, of course my father could not pay it and one day the civil workers from the ministry of finance came to our stores and our home and confiscated everything against this debt.
We were about 1,400-1,500 students in this school, my ID number was 1453, there were no nonMuslims other than me and Izi (I don’t remember his last name). Our school would manufacture the orders it received from the outside and earn money this way. We, who worked in this department in the school were considered laborers and we would be fed a full and satisfying lunch at noon. However, one day when we went to the cafeteria, they did not allow us in. When we asked the reason, the janitor at the door said: “From now on, there won’t be food for you, I don’t know the reason”. We decided with Izi not to tell anything to our families for a while. We bought a sandwich or a “simit” [crisp, ring-shaped savory roll covered in sesame seeds] as lunch. This situation continued for a while.
Then one day, our math teacher gives an oral quiz, I studied very well, I know everything inside out, but for whatever reason, he does not call on me for the oral; I raised my hand and said “My teacher, you forgot about me”. He said to me: “Aren’t you Lazar? You passed, it is o.k.”. “My teacher, how come? You did not ask me anything yet”. “For Pete’s sake, aren’t you Jewish? This is enough for you” is what he says. I went directly to the prinipal, told him about the situation, he said: “What can I do, it is out of my hands, your teacher knows better than me”.
Another day, when our history teacher was lecturing to the class he said “These Jews latched on to our necks like parasites, Jews are like this, like that”, I felt devastated. During recess, I ran out of the school, went to my father and said: “my dear father, I will not attend school any more”. “My goodness, my child, why? What happened? You are a very good student, what happened to cause you to come to this decision?” When he learned everything from the beginning, he agreed with me and my school life came to an end in this way.
Then one day, our math teacher gives an oral quiz, I studied very well, I know everything inside out, but for whatever reason, he does not call on me for the oral; I raised my hand and said “My teacher, you forgot about me”. He said to me: “Aren’t you Lazar? You passed, it is o.k.”. “My teacher, how come? You did not ask me anything yet”. “For Pete’s sake, aren’t you Jewish? This is enough for you” is what he says. I went directly to the prinipal, told him about the situation, he said: “What can I do, it is out of my hands, your teacher knows better than me”.
Another day, when our history teacher was lecturing to the class he said “These Jews latched on to our necks like parasites, Jews are like this, like that”, I felt devastated. During recess, I ran out of the school, went to my father and said: “my dear father, I will not attend school any more”. “My goodness, my child, why? What happened? You are a very good student, what happened to cause you to come to this decision?” When he learned everything from the beginning, he agreed with me and my school life came to an end in this way.
Since the government declared the “Citizen, speak Turkish” [12] law that mandated the public to speak only Turkish, our family always spoke to us in Turkish and sent us to Turkish schools. As I said before, these events were only on the annoying level. For example, when we spoke Ladino (Judeo-Espanyol) in the street, there were people who were against it and would say “Pis Yahudi” [Turkish for “dirty Jew”] or “Chifit” [Turkish for “Jewish Gypsy”]. The Jewish school in our neighborhood was closed, reason unknown to me. I started my education in a public school “23rd Elementary School” (without tuition). My father enrolled me at the Art School in Sultanahmet after elementary school since I was artistically talented. I would go to school with the tram from my home. I learned ironworking there, that is to say, to manufacture tools and machine parts from iron.
Even though my mother was modern and loved to dress up, she would cover her head when she went out since she was religious like her own mother, but she uncovered her head at home, when she was with us. My mother was a typical Jewish woman, that means, both her kitchen and herself were kosher, when she prepared food in her kitchen, her head was always covered. She would go to the hamam in Ortakoy every Saturday. My father was as religious as my mother. He also observed his religion meticulously, he would daven every morning, observe the Sabbath, celebrate the holidays without exception, and teach them to us.
, Türkiye
The ones who lived in Daghamam were usually members of the Jewish community. Because it was a small neighborhood, everyone knew each other, all the young people chatted, played, and interacted with each other. Their biggest event was attending the ceremony in the synagogue on the Sabbath, sing in the choir, and then congregate at the “Dezayuno” (breakfast) that took place after the services and sing together.
, Türkiye
My father Salom Nesim Abuaf who was born in 1895, was born and raised in Kuzguncuk like his other siblings [A neighborhood on the Asian side where Jews settled]. Like all other Jewish families of the time, my grandfather provided my father’s education, along with his other children, in the neighborhood Jewish school. (Unfortunately I do not know what grade level he attended). Even though my father was a very successful student, the financial difficulties faced by his father caused him to start working at a very young age. My father was proficient in Hebrew due to the education he received in school. He learned Judeo-Spanish at home since his family spoke this language in the house. In addition, my father spoke Turkish very well because of the environment he was in.
My cousin Rafael married Klara, who was the cousin of his teacher Nisim Behar and who was the daughter of a rabbi around 1947 (unfortunately I do not have information about the family of Klara, I don’t remember). (I cannot remember when or where they were married either). They had two daughters from this marriage. Rafael opened a small store selling supplies for tailors in Pangalti named “Inci” (Pearl) during the hours he had when he wasn’t working as a cantor [A neighborhood on the European side that is part of Sisli].
During the events of Sept 6-7, 1955 [4], he ran from his home to his store to protect it and started sitting at the door. The looters were destroying everywhere. Rafael thought that his long beard, long black coat and black top-hat would be enough to protect him. He nevertheless had to show his circumcision to the looters who came to his store. In this way he saved both himself and his store.
During the events of Sept 6-7, 1955 [4], he ran from his home to his store to protect it and started sitting at the door. The looters were destroying everywhere. Rafael thought that his long beard, long black coat and black top-hat would be enough to protect him. He nevertheless had to show his circumcision to the looters who came to his store. In this way he saved both himself and his store.
From the marriage of my grandfather Davit and his wife Mazalto, my father Nesim, Rafael, Izak and my aunt Suzan were born. They were all born and raised in Kuzguncuk, Daghamam and attended the Jewish school in their neighborhood, they spoke Hebrew and Judeo-Spanish (I do not have more information about their education).
At the time Ortakoy was a real village (the name Ortakoy means Middle Village in Turkish) and it was densely populated with Jewish families. At the location where the synagogue stands now, there were three interspaced synagogues, one midrash (a smaller synagoge) and a beautiful big synagogue (where the breakfasts after Saturday mornings take place today). This synagogue was opened on Saturdays and holidays. We used the midrash during the week, in one of the interspaced ones, psalms would be recited. In today’s location, on the administrative section of the synagogue, oil would be burned then, on a Yom Kippur night, these candles caught fire and caused a large fire. As a result of the fire, this beautiful section of the synagogue completely burned down. My voice was very beautiful with the talent I had in my family’s genes and I was part of the synagogue’s chorus. I could recite the tones that our cantor Leon Levi did exactly, so much that even though all of us in the chorus (15-20 children) had black gowns and hats, my hat was the same as the grand rabbi’s gown. We could not continue with this chorus after the fire. Additionally we had a synagogue and two yeshivas in the neighborhood we called “the Armenian neighborhood”. These place would be filled every Saturday and on holidays.
, Türkiye
At the same time, we would build our succah here during Succot. We would place all kinds of grapes, fruits and greenery to the wooden latticework on top of our succah. All of our neighbors were Jewish more or less and we would celebrate especially this holiday all together under our succah. My mother would offer our guests bread and grapes. (I am sure she offered other stuff too, but these stayed in my mind) Since no one was afraid of theft at that time, everyone’s doors were open, we had wonderful relationships with our neighbors. Everyone shared in each others’ problems as well as happinesses.
My mother’s voice was beautiful in addition to being physically beautiful. So my father and mother met during choir practices that took place on Saturdays. My father was attracted to my mother immediately, and opened up to her a short while later, however my mother rejected him for a while, but could not resist my father who was so kind and well-known in our community and if I am not wrong, they were married in 1912.
As far as I can remember, there was a wine factory named “Lavrentoglu” belonging to a Greek citizen in Tophane [A neighborhood on the European side]. This gentleman approached my father with a proposition one day: “Sir, a good day to you, I have a proposition for you. Your store is on a very busy street, you can sell a lot of wine in this store”. My father said, “How can that be, sir? It is a subject I know nothing about, forget about us”; but the man continued: “Look Mr. Nesim, I will take care of all the arrangements, just hand me the store. We will establish a system. I will deliver the wine to you, and I will refill the barrels as they empty. You will sell wine by the glass. You will hand me the cost of the wine you sold, and keep the profit. What do you say? Think about it for a few days, and let’s talk again?”
My father came home that night and recounted Lavrentoglu’s proposition to us excitedly. He thought about it for a few days, and said to himself: “I have nothing to lose here, because I don’t need to invest, let me say yes to this venture”. In this way 6 wine barrels with a tab in front were placed in that tiny store, and two big barrels in the back. Wine was going to be produced in the barrels in the back and carried to the ones in the front and my father would sell wine by the kilo.
When my father started this business I was around 8 or 9 years old and my older brother Kemal around 10 or 11. We were attending the Turkish elementary school in Ortakoy. My father would go to the hardware store in the morning, and we would open up the wine store when we got out of school, at 5 in the afternoon, we would sweep and clean the place, and my mother would come later to help. We would serve wine to the clients, my mother would take the money. My father, on the other hand, would close the hardware store around 7 in the evening, and when he came to the wine store, we would return home and do our homework. Some of the clients came here with their own bottles, and my father would ask questions like:
“Welcome. What color wine would you like? Do you want it strong, or mold?”. Some of the clients came with a glass, they would ask for a second after they finished the first. In this way we became familiar with wines, but the business did not go as well as we wished.
One day, my mother said to my father: “Nesim, how much do we make from this store? What are we aiming for?” In the old times, my father says x amount of money, and my mother suggests: “Look, if we take out the 6 barrels in the store, and in their place put a few small tables and chairs, this place is known as a wine place anyways, I will make a few appetizers, and we will have more business, I think. What do you say?” It took a while for my father to warm to this idea, and when he found it logical, went to meet Lavrentoglu, but he did not approve of it of course and took back the barrels right away.
Next to our store there was a restaurant owner Barbayanni who was a Greek citizen, he also convinced my father and said that if this store became a bar, it would do tremendous business. We bought tables and chairs for our store, my mother would give me the list of all the necessary supplies like liver which was not “kosher” that was going to be cooked in the store the next day. I would do the shopping immediately after school, open up the store, clean it up, then wash the tomatoes and cucumbers, cut up the liver in little squares the way my mother taught me, so it would be easy for her to cook them. My mother would bring the appetizers that she prepared at home like fried eggplant, or navy bean salad. Barbayanni also supported us, we started selling uzo along with wine, our wine store became a bar. Generally men came to the store, we did not have too many lady clients, therefore after my father arrived to the store, we would return home because my mother did not want to stay among so many men.
My father came home that night and recounted Lavrentoglu’s proposition to us excitedly. He thought about it for a few days, and said to himself: “I have nothing to lose here, because I don’t need to invest, let me say yes to this venture”. In this way 6 wine barrels with a tab in front were placed in that tiny store, and two big barrels in the back. Wine was going to be produced in the barrels in the back and carried to the ones in the front and my father would sell wine by the kilo.
When my father started this business I was around 8 or 9 years old and my older brother Kemal around 10 or 11. We were attending the Turkish elementary school in Ortakoy. My father would go to the hardware store in the morning, and we would open up the wine store when we got out of school, at 5 in the afternoon, we would sweep and clean the place, and my mother would come later to help. We would serve wine to the clients, my mother would take the money. My father, on the other hand, would close the hardware store around 7 in the evening, and when he came to the wine store, we would return home and do our homework. Some of the clients came here with their own bottles, and my father would ask questions like:
“Welcome. What color wine would you like? Do you want it strong, or mold?”. Some of the clients came with a glass, they would ask for a second after they finished the first. In this way we became familiar with wines, but the business did not go as well as we wished.
One day, my mother said to my father: “Nesim, how much do we make from this store? What are we aiming for?” In the old times, my father says x amount of money, and my mother suggests: “Look, if we take out the 6 barrels in the store, and in their place put a few small tables and chairs, this place is known as a wine place anyways, I will make a few appetizers, and we will have more business, I think. What do you say?” It took a while for my father to warm to this idea, and when he found it logical, went to meet Lavrentoglu, but he did not approve of it of course and took back the barrels right away.
Next to our store there was a restaurant owner Barbayanni who was a Greek citizen, he also convinced my father and said that if this store became a bar, it would do tremendous business. We bought tables and chairs for our store, my mother would give me the list of all the necessary supplies like liver which was not “kosher” that was going to be cooked in the store the next day. I would do the shopping immediately after school, open up the store, clean it up, then wash the tomatoes and cucumbers, cut up the liver in little squares the way my mother taught me, so it would be easy for her to cook them. My mother would bring the appetizers that she prepared at home like fried eggplant, or navy bean salad. Barbayanni also supported us, we started selling uzo along with wine, our wine store became a bar. Generally men came to the store, we did not have too many lady clients, therefore after my father arrived to the store, we would return home because my mother did not want to stay among so many men.
The municipality of Ortakoy used to extract sand from the sea, and sell it in sacks, before he partnered with my uncles, my father had those sacks brought to the store one way or another, with the help of porters. When my uncles came, a horse-carriage was rented along with a stableman. The expenses sky-rocketed. This is how; other than the livelihood of three families, there was the salary of the stableman along with the feeding and care of the horse, the store was trying to keep up with all of these necessities. My father not only had to work more than he used to, he also was struggling to pay the debt he owed from the loan. Intolerance and jealousy fits started amongst the wives of my uncles. As a result of the continuous nagging in the family, and the fact that there wasn’t enough income coming out of the store for three families, my father said to his older brothers:
“Unfortunately guys, this is not going to work, we tried to go over our heads, we have to part our ways”, and removed his older brothers from the business. Each brother worked in a business suited for himself. Despite everything, their unity remained intact.
After separating from his brothers, my father worked at the hardware business, and managed to pay off the interest on the loan he took out by working for long years. One day when I was either in second or third grade, my father said to me:
“Oh! Thank G-d Lazariko (little Lazar), I paid off my last debt, now I am at peace”.
“Unfortunately guys, this is not going to work, we tried to go over our heads, we have to part our ways”, and removed his older brothers from the business. Each brother worked in a business suited for himself. Despite everything, their unity remained intact.
After separating from his brothers, my father worked at the hardware business, and managed to pay off the interest on the loan he took out by working for long years. One day when I was either in second or third grade, my father said to me:
“Oh! Thank G-d Lazariko (little Lazar), I paid off my last debt, now I am at peace”.
Approximately a year after the Wealth Tax, my father was able to reopen the bar but not the hardware store (page 4). Everything was in shortage in our country during this period. The government stamped the backs of our identification cards with ration cards and in this way tried to prevent stocking up on food items and ensure equal distribution of basic necessities. We could buy anything you could think of by showing this ration card. Normally ¼ of a loaf of bread was given to each person, flour, oil, sugar was all distributed like this at a minimum. I was studying to become an ironworker in the Art School at the time (I could produce anything from iron using an iron file), because the products we manufactured in school were sold in the market, we were treated as laborers. I had a “hardworking laborer” ration card. The laborers had a right to ½ loaf of bread a day. Our family was large, my father was close friends with the baker who was our neighbor, and he liked and respected my father a lot, bless him, the baker would one way or another give my father extra breads.
One day there was a large bonito [a kind of fish] surge on to the beach, I gathered 6 of them that had beached themselves on the shore because of the winds and immediately brought them to my mother, we made fabulous lakerda [bonito preserved in salt] with these and ate them at every opportunity. We all developed scabies due to this salty fish and also because of the shortage of sugar at the time. Following this we had louse, and I contracted typhus on top of all of this. We overcame these days even if it was difficult. My family struggled to observe the Sabbath, the holidays as much as we could when everything was so hard, we tried to follow our religious obligations with the foods we prepared whether it was a little or a lot.
The Tax Assessors who read the sign outside my father’s older brother, my uncle Izak’s store that was in Sisane, as “Izak Abuaf Shirts” instead of “Izak Abuaf Pottery” [in Turkish the words for shirts and pottery are spelled the same way except for one different consonant, gomlek and comlek], came up with an impossibly high debt for my uncle who was a manufacturer of trunks. Because my uncle could not pay off this debt, he was deported to Ashkale along with the other nonMuslims who were not able to pay. People usually were made to work in building roads there, my uncle who was handy with everything and who was streetsmart told the official there that he could cook very well and became the cook for the camp. In this way he handled this period without being as challenged as the others. When he returned from Ashkale, he continued his work where he left off.
One day there was a large bonito [a kind of fish] surge on to the beach, I gathered 6 of them that had beached themselves on the shore because of the winds and immediately brought them to my mother, we made fabulous lakerda [bonito preserved in salt] with these and ate them at every opportunity. We all developed scabies due to this salty fish and also because of the shortage of sugar at the time. Following this we had louse, and I contracted typhus on top of all of this. We overcame these days even if it was difficult. My family struggled to observe the Sabbath, the holidays as much as we could when everything was so hard, we tried to follow our religious obligations with the foods we prepared whether it was a little or a lot.
The Tax Assessors who read the sign outside my father’s older brother, my uncle Izak’s store that was in Sisane, as “Izak Abuaf Shirts” instead of “Izak Abuaf Pottery” [in Turkish the words for shirts and pottery are spelled the same way except for one different consonant, gomlek and comlek], came up with an impossibly high debt for my uncle who was a manufacturer of trunks. Because my uncle could not pay off this debt, he was deported to Ashkale along with the other nonMuslims who were not able to pay. People usually were made to work in building roads there, my uncle who was handy with everything and who was streetsmart told the official there that he could cook very well and became the cook for the camp. In this way he handled this period without being as challenged as the others. When he returned from Ashkale, he continued his work where he left off.