My children know very well that they are Jewish and don’t turn away from their Jewish roots. Marina, of course, is much more interested in her background. My son is more neutral. Marina’s children study at a Jewish school and my son’s children, although they finished a Russian school, still consider themselves Jews.
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Displaying 43771 - 43800 of 50826 results
Elina Falkenshtein
My husband and I try to keep Jewish traditions in our household, remembering and celebrating every Jewish holiday.
As to my father’s views on Orthodoxy: he was a secular man, but he knew and understood everything. When we returned from evacuation, from Tovda in Sverdlovsk region, my father set me on his knee and told me all about Jewish holidays, traditions and history. These were something like my father’s fairytales for me.
Papa, when the war started, probably expected someone to come for him. But in our courtyard in Riga lived a captain or a major, a pilot who had a son that was friends with my brother. This pilot ran up to us and shouted, ‘Get in here!’ He threw us in a truck and took us to some unknown place. After, I remember, we were walking and Papa held me under his arm. We went on foot towards Sebezha [a city on the border of Latvia and Russia], while many people passed us heading in the opposite direction, saying that behind them were Germans and we should go to Riga. Grandmother said, ‘We will only move forward!’ From those who returned to Riga, nothing has ever been heard of again.
My parents got married in 1929. When I was born, they already lived in Riga, on 14, Shkolnoi Street. We were lucky enough to return to this very same apartment after our evacuation to Sverdlovsk region. After our return my father found, in different apartments, the remains of the wonderful furniture made from Karelian birch and redwood that had been in our apartment before the war. The story of how we left during the evacuation I only know from the memories of my mother and grandmother. That summer we were at the dacha [cottage] in Yurmala with my grandmother. Papa stormed in and cried, ‘Anna Abramovna! War!
Papa, while he studied at university, taught Hebrew, the history of the Jewish people, mathematics, electro-technology and physics at a Jewish gymnasium in Riga. Until 1940, my father worked as an engineer in the factories of a paper and veneer company. He held a high-ranking post. As far as my father’s biography is concerned, I would like to add that Papa served in the Latvian army. When his tour of duty was finished, he resigned his post, probably sometime in the 1920s.
My granddad, Ilija Aron Moyshevich Falkov, was born in Ludza in 1867. [Ludza: a town that belonged to the province of Vitebsk until 1917, now it belongs to Latvia]. He completed two grades of a provincial elementary school. He knew ancient Hebrew, Ivrit, the Talmud, Jewish history and Russian literature well, or so my father told me.
My grandfather dealt with timber processing, first for private owners, and then for the management of the Moscow-Vindava [today Ventspils] railroad. It appears that he then peddled metalwork, traveling from village to village, selling his hardware to peasants.
My children know very well that they are Jewish and don’t turn away from their Jewish roots. Marina, of course, is much more interested in her background. My son is more neutral. Marina’s children study at a Jewish school and my son’s children, although they finished a Russian school, still consider themselves Jews.
To be honest, I did well in all subjects. I was the best student in our school. I chose mathematics, not literature, for which I had a gift. The same gift, in fact, that my mother had. I graduated from the Latvian University in physics and mathematics. My mother tongue is Russian but I also speak Latvian and English. I have a PhD in pedagogical sciences.
I was born in Riga in November 1938. We had a loving and happy family. In the summers we would rent a dacha in Yurmala as was proper in the years before the war. I devoted my entire life to pedagogy, and worked in many schools in Riga as well as at the Institute for Teacher Training. For the last ten years, however, I’ve been working in Riga’s Jewish school. I was this school’s vice-principal, in charge of academics, and the deputy director. Now I teach mathematics. To be honest, I’ve always been more interested in the work of a pedagogue than mathematics.
I finished school in 1954, right after the dethroning of Stalin’s cult of personality [see Twentieth Party Congress] [8], when we were all in a very strange state of mind. I finished secondary school at the age of 16, and I had enough time for serious thought. I already knew that I would go work in a school; there were no other thoughts in my mind. I began to add everything up: first, there was no place in Riga to obtain a qualification in elementary school education. Secondly, I was always adept at learning history and literature, but I decided it wasn’t possible for me to associate myself with history or literature. Because, what was I to tell children in three or four years? Chemistry and physics, I felt, should only be taught by men. All that was left to me was mathematics because, no matter what happens, 2 times 2 is 4.
I finished school in 1954, right after the dethroning of Stalin’s cult of personality [see Twentieth Party Congress] [8], when we were all in a very strange state of mind. I finished secondary school at the age of 16, and I had enough time for serious thought. I already knew that I would go work in a school; there were no other thoughts in my mind. I began to add everything up: first, there was no place in Riga to obtain a qualification in elementary school education. Secondly, I was always adept at learning history and literature, but I decided it wasn’t possible for me to associate myself with history or literature. Because, what was I to tell children in three or four years? Chemistry and physics, I felt, should only be taught by men. All that was left to me was mathematics because, no matter what happens, 2 times 2 is 4.
My grandmother, Hannah Abramova, had three children according to the documents – Yasha, Moisey and my mother. I knew Moisey Borovik. He was a furrier. His wife was from a wealthy Jewish family. When the war began, they were transported to a transit camp and he never saw his wife again. He went through many camps. He didn’t like to talk about his experiences. When the first film about Auschwitz was shown, he didn’t want to see it, but eventually he went to see it. He came back and said, ‘What they showed there was paradise. But to us, it was horrible.’ Uncle Moisey was an educated man, or more precisely, a self-educated man. My mother’s other brother, Yasha, went to try his luck in Brazil.
Latvia
My mother graduated from a teacher training course in Orsha [until 1917 it belonged to the Province of Vitebsk, now it belongs to Belarus]. She was small with long braids. My mother’s class-mates told me about her first teaching practice – the school-inspector looked into the class-room and went to the principal in indignation. ‘Why do you leave a class without a teacher?!’, he said. In that class, my mother was the teacher. My mother was more of a teacher than a mathematician. She transmitted a love of her subject to the children. She nurtured the human side of the children. After the war my mother worked in regular and evening schools and gave lectures at the Teacher Training Institute. She was elected – with no scientific degrees – an associate member of the Academy of Pedagogical Sciences of the Soviet Union.
On Pesach 1955, while my grandmother got special dishes and spoons, I went to our acquaintances to buy a kosher chicken and I cooked meat soup with dumplings on the stove in her room. Once, at Jewish New Year, when my grandmother was still able to walk, we went to the synagogue together. I know the synagogue because I remember it from that time. At the time the balcony was still screened, there were some small holes, and women weren’t allowed to go downstairs. The synagogue is different now.
Despite her religious upbringing she was a progressive woman. She kept telling me, ‘Why does the whole town have to know when I sleep with my husband and when I don’t’. That was in Ludza. And then she stopped going to the mikveh. ‘If you go there, it will be clear to everyone why you are going there’, she explained.
Latvia
My grandmother was a tailor. She had her own tailor school. Not in the traditional sense, but a school where she was teaching. My grandmother invented her own curved ruler. She was able to teach anyone any kind of tailoring in two or three lessons.
I was lucky that she lived for so long. I learned much from her. The most important thing is sobriety. Sobriety with respect to origin. At the time she said to me, ‘All right! You may marry a Russian. But don’t forget, it may happen that one day, when you need help most, you will be reproached for being a Jew.’ I wrote down the story of her life but unfortunately I don’t have that book anymore.
I was lucky that she lived for so long. I learned much from her. The most important thing is sobriety. Sobriety with respect to origin. At the time she said to me, ‘All right! You may marry a Russian. But don’t forget, it may happen that one day, when you need help most, you will be reproached for being a Jew.’ I wrote down the story of her life but unfortunately I don’t have that book anymore.
Latvia
My maternal grandmother, Hannah Abramova Borovika, was born in Lithuania in 1873 and died in Riga in 1958. She was probably the main carrier of tradition in our family. She was a very interesting woman. She was really raised in the Jewish tradition. She was permeated with it through and through. I remember her explaining that eating pork was forbidden because it is written in the Torah, and because pigs eat their piglets. My grandmother was a unique personality. It is maybe thanks to her that we survived the war.
Latvia
My maternal grandfather was Isidor or Israel Borovik. He died around 1924. He was from Vilnius [capital of Lithuania]. He was sent to be a teacher in Ludza. I don’t know whether there was a Jewish or a Russian school there. He was even a rabbi in Ludza for a while.
One of my father’s sister was called Raisa, Rasel or Raisa Ilyichna as was the proper way of saying it in Russia. She was born in 1895. She graduated from the Institute for Foreign Languages in Moscow, and she taught English in technical schools in Moscow. She spent all her life in Russia, and she died there, too.
My father’s second sister, Mina, was born in 1897. She was a very impressive personality. During one of her marriages she even managed to live in the Kremlin. Aunt Mina’s son, Mihail Falkov, lives in Riga.
My father’s third sister, Ljuba, was born in 1898. After the war she ended up in Ukraine and worked in a textile workshop in Kiev for a very long time. She didn’t have a family.
My father’s youngest sister, Polina, born in 1906, was the most active, most combative woman. She lived in Moscow. But then the end of the 1930s came, when everybody who was from Latvia began to be looked at as a spy. She was accused of spying for Japan and was sent to a camp in Kolyma [region in the Northern part of Russia where the infamous Gulag [6] camps were located]. After the camp she ended up in Udmurtia, next to Izhevsk, where my father’s youngest brother, Uncle Yasha, served his sentence. While in the camp, Uncle Yasha was saved by a simple woman, whom he later married and had children with. That’s where our Udmurtian line of relatives comes from.
My father’s second sister, Mina, was born in 1897. She was a very impressive personality. During one of her marriages she even managed to live in the Kremlin. Aunt Mina’s son, Mihail Falkov, lives in Riga.
My father’s third sister, Ljuba, was born in 1898. After the war she ended up in Ukraine and worked in a textile workshop in Kiev for a very long time. She didn’t have a family.
My father’s youngest sister, Polina, born in 1906, was the most active, most combative woman. She lived in Moscow. But then the end of the 1930s came, when everybody who was from Latvia began to be looked at as a spy. She was accused of spying for Japan and was sent to a camp in Kolyma [region in the Northern part of Russia where the infamous Gulag [6] camps were located]. After the camp she ended up in Udmurtia, next to Izhevsk, where my father’s youngest brother, Uncle Yasha, served his sentence. While in the camp, Uncle Yasha was saved by a simple woman, whom he later married and had children with. That’s where our Udmurtian line of relatives comes from.
When the Doctors’ Plot had calmed down, Papa worked at the ministry and then, in 1955, he began to work at a timber processing plant in Elgava. He went to work there in order to receive a pension. He was the head engineer. He retired about six months before the official retirement age because he had heart problems. This was about 1959, when I finished university.
Morris Schiff
When we came in Tashkent, mother put our clothes and footwear aside. We put local ‘rags’ on. It we were really starving, mother took some of our clothes and sold on the market, to buy some food with that money. There were a lot of paupers by the market. Nobody gave them arms, some people even teased them. I saw somebody putting a stone in the box of the blind lady. There was only one time when I saw people give somebody to the pauper. It was an amazing case. When I was on my way to the market, I saw a person without two legs who was at the patched mat. There were a lot of cripples during the war, and people remained indifferent. The pauper was with his back turned to the passersby and it was amazing, but in that position one could tell that he was a decent man, whose life made him ask for alms. There was a hat by his mat and people came up and put money there. The pauper did not even take it right away. The hat happened to be full of money. I saw that pauper only once.
There was another case in Tashkent, which I will always remember. I was on my water to the water pump and saw a four-wheeler (something like we had in Tallinn, though it was covered with the yellowing Tashkent dust. I stopped and started looking. The horse looked terrible it was so meager that its bones were protruding like spears. That ‘skeleton with the skin’ was hardly moving. The top of the four-wheeler was open and there was a lady there with her arms flung open. It was sultry and the son was shining directly at her. The coachman was sleeping. The horse reached water pump and stopped. The coachman woke up, took the bucket and gave water to the horse. I think water was all that horse could get. Having been watered, the horse moved on. I looked at it with my mouth open. The horsy reached the next water pump and stopped, the coachman watered it once again. I asked passersby what it was and I was explained that it was the “ambulance” !
There was another case in Tashkent, which I will always remember. I was on my water to the water pump and saw a four-wheeler (something like we had in Tallinn, though it was covered with the yellowing Tashkent dust. I stopped and started looking. The horse looked terrible it was so meager that its bones were protruding like spears. That ‘skeleton with the skin’ was hardly moving. The top of the four-wheeler was open and there was a lady there with her arms flung open. It was sultry and the son was shining directly at her. The coachman was sleeping. The horse reached water pump and stopped. The coachman woke up, took the bucket and gave water to the horse. I think water was all that horse could get. Having been watered, the horse moved on. I looked at it with my mouth open. The horsy reached the next water pump and stopped, the coachman watered it once again. I asked passersby what it was and I was explained that it was the “ambulance” !
When we were leaving Tallinn, it was still calm in the city, no shooting. Evacuation was well organized, the echelons were at the stations. I remember that the train was moving very slowly as there were long stops at the stations. Besides, there were unplanned stops. During evacuation each person was allowed to carry 15 kilos of luggage. We had not got used to the Soviet union style and to break the rules without being punished. Mother weighed the luggage very scrupulously when packing our things, but in actually we could take more as long as we could carry it. Those, who took more things, lived more or less comfortably as compared with us. They could sell their things or exchange them for products, but we had to starve a bit. We came in Nizhnyaya Uvelka not far from Krasnoyarsk [Russia, about 3000 km from Moscow], where most of Estonian citizens were evacuated. I do not remember exactly how long it took us to get there, but it was definitely more than a month. Nizhnyaya Uvelka was a settlement in Taiga, consisting of one long street. We were temporarily housed in the building of local school. In a while, all evacuees were housed in with the locals. We got some food cards [18], but it was impossible to get by with that ration. Grandmother and other ladies went to the forest to pickup mushrooms, berries and some roots. Mother worked in the field. I had to go to school. I finished 3 classes of Estonian school but I had to go to the first grade of Russian school in Nizhnyaya Uvelka. I was about 11 years old. Children always easily learn foreign language and by the time I started school. Mother and grandmother spoke better Russian than Estonian as they used to live in Narva, which was a Russian spoken town.
Soon mother’s elder brother Isaac accidentally found us. He left Russia for Tashkent before revolution of 1917. One of all USSR papers Izvestia [one of the most popular communistic papers in the USSR, issued in the period of 1917- 1980s, with the circulation exceeding eight million copies] the article about Lazar was published along with his picture. Isaac saw that paper and wrote to the publisher. In their reply to him it turned out that it really went about his brother. Isaac managed to find us via inquiry bureau for evacuees. He sent us the letter and asked to come. Mother’s sisters decided to leave later, but mother, grandmother and I headed there. It was a long way. There were no trains available at that time, only locomotives. We had to sleep on our suitcases. Then grandmother’s suitcase was stolen. Isaac met us in Tashkent. Mother was very little when he left, so it was as if they got acquainted once again. Isaac turned out to be a very good person. We moved in his place. He found a job for mother, and helped us with anything he could. Apart from money and food card mother was also fed at the canteen, which was very handy for us at that time. I cannоt say that we had enough food to eat, but we were not starving as hard as most evacuated people. Soon, mother stopped working there as the person in charge of the canteen started demanding that mother should become his lover. Mother turned him down and he fired her right away. Our family started having really hard times. Mother found a job, but it was not enough for us to get by. Mother and grandmother were practically starving trying to give extra piece of food to me. Isaac was drafted in the army at that time and the three of us stayed together. Then,
mother’s sister came. Eldest son of Esfir was drafted in the lines, when he was in Nizhnyaya Uvelka.. Esfir and Ida found lodging not far from our place.
Soon mother’s elder brother Isaac accidentally found us. He left Russia for Tashkent before revolution of 1917. One of all USSR papers Izvestia [one of the most popular communistic papers in the USSR, issued in the period of 1917- 1980s, with the circulation exceeding eight million copies] the article about Lazar was published along with his picture. Isaac saw that paper and wrote to the publisher. In their reply to him it turned out that it really went about his brother. Isaac managed to find us via inquiry bureau for evacuees. He sent us the letter and asked to come. Mother’s sisters decided to leave later, but mother, grandmother and I headed there. It was a long way. There were no trains available at that time, only locomotives. We had to sleep on our suitcases. Then grandmother’s suitcase was stolen. Isaac met us in Tashkent. Mother was very little when he left, so it was as if they got acquainted once again. Isaac turned out to be a very good person. We moved in his place. He found a job for mother, and helped us with anything he could. Apart from money and food card mother was also fed at the canteen, which was very handy for us at that time. I cannоt say that we had enough food to eat, but we were not starving as hard as most evacuated people. Soon, mother stopped working there as the person in charge of the canteen started demanding that mother should become his lover. Mother turned him down and he fired her right away. Our family started having really hard times. Mother found a job, but it was not enough for us to get by. Mother and grandmother were practically starving trying to give extra piece of food to me. Isaac was drafted in the army at that time and the three of us stayed together. Then,
mother’s sister came. Eldest son of Esfir was drafted in the lines, when he was in Nizhnyaya Uvelka.. Esfir and Ida found lodging not far from our place.
, Uzbekistan
In 1939 soviet military bases were constructed in Estonia [11]. It is accounted for the fact that Germany was getting ready for war, and the bases were needed for defense. Then the bases were all over the country. But it did not affect the life of our family as well as the lives of other people in Estonia. In 1940 when Estonia was annexed to Soviet Union, the life of Estonian population was changed considerably. I do not agree with those who call this annexation occupation − as Estonian citizens had equal rights with Russians. Estonians held the main posts in the country, classes were taught in Estonian at schools and universities – what kind of occupants would have allowed that?! As usual, the occupants do not provided the same rights to the people of the country they occupy. The difference is huge. Of course, soviet people started to bring the same rules in Estonia as anywhere else in the Soviet Union. People were arrested, the property of the rich was seized, and people were evicted from their own houses. Then there was deportation of Estonian population [12] − on 14 June 1941 before the outbreak of war, Several thousands of Estonian and Jewish people were deported. Men were sent to barb-wired camp Gulag [13], where the lethal rate was very high. There were very few survivors. I do not have exact information, without which the estimate is very superficial. The families of Gulag prisoners were exiled. Some of them also died, but there were not as many deaths as in the camp. Probably the actions would have taken place further on and the attack of Germany on USSR on 22 July 1941 [14] frustrated Stalin’s plans. He did not think of deportation at that moment. At that time we moved to from Nőmme and rented an apartment. Our family was lucky- we were rather well-off, but not rich as we had neither own house nor enterprise. Nobody was arrested nor exiled. They just took the money from paternal grandmother’s bank account. Maybe it was influenced by the fact that my uncle Lazar, mother’s brother, was the member of the banned communistic party in Estonian time. He was deputy commander of NKVD [15] of Estonia, the commander was Jakobson, also a Jew.
The family of mother’s elder sister Esfir also suffered from soviet regime. She was married to Abram Frank, whose family moved to Estonia from Latvia a long time ago. Fran’s eldest brother was wealthy. He owned textile factory in Tallinn. Two more brothers were very well-off. They had their own houses, only Abram worked hard to earn his bread and butter. He was a shoe-maker. He had his own workshop, so the family lived comfortably. Then he acted foolishly: moved to another district and lost his clients, and could get the new customers. The equipment and materials were purchased from loan. He failed to payoff the loan and went bust soon. He started working at a shoe factory and had to give his entire salary to the bank to payoff the loan, but still he could get out of that situation and early 1939 he managed to payoff all the debts and purchase workshop. Soon, the soviet regime cam to power and his workshop was sequestrated. He was lucky not to be sent in the camp. He went to work to the shoe factory.
The family of mother’s elder sister Esfir also suffered from soviet regime. She was married to Abram Frank, whose family moved to Estonia from Latvia a long time ago. Fran’s eldest brother was wealthy. He owned textile factory in Tallinn. Two more brothers were very well-off. They had their own houses, only Abram worked hard to earn his bread and butter. He was a shoe-maker. He had his own workshop, so the family lived comfortably. Then he acted foolishly: moved to another district and lost his clients, and could get the new customers. The equipment and materials were purchased from loan. He failed to payoff the loan and went bust soon. He started working at a shoe factory and had to give his entire salary to the bank to payoff the loan, but still he could get out of that situation and early 1939 he managed to payoff all the debts and purchase workshop. Soon, the soviet regime cam to power and his workshop was sequestrated. He was lucky not to be sent in the camp. He went to work to the shoe factory.
I cannot say that there was anti-Semitism in Estonia. There were Jewish schools and lyceum. There were no restrictions for young Jewish people to enter educational institutions. The government gave Jews the cultural autonomy [10], which guaranteed their rights and liberties. There were practically no restrictions in the profession- trading, craftsmanship, medicine,law. There were equal ownership rights for Estonian and Jews. But there were prejudices. Officially there were no bans for the military officers, but actually were was not a single Jewish army officer. There was a top –secret instruction not to let the Jews become the officers. There were not only Estonians among the officers of the Estonian army − there were Russians, Germans, but no Jews. It was also hard for a Jew to serve the state. Thus, there was no full equality in Estonian republic. There was an interesting story. One Jew wanted to marry the officer of Estonian army. The government could not ban it. If for example the officer married a fallen woman, the marriage could not be banned, but he was dismissed. If he married a Jew, who would be baptized, he could stay in the army. If she remained a Jews, he would be dismissed. Probably it was almost like marrying a fallen woman. So, one lady married Estonian officer and got baptized. After baptism other Jews looked at her like at a traitor. So, she had no ties with Jewish community. They had a son. Then during occupation, her husband was the officer of German army and she had to hide in his parent’s house with her son. As a result, she stayed with her son, but her husband perished.
There was anti-Semitism in everyday situations. I was teased by the boys : «small green kike is running on the rope ». Yes, I was tiny, but why green. I had a green suit. I could not understand those words. Those who teased me probably, could not understand that either. Well, children! Where could they hear that- they could not have come up with that! I also remember one case when I was playing with my friend, Estonian girl, in the yard of our house. The neighboring yard was fenced. A young guy jumped over than fence with a pole. He was a sportsman. I was standing with my back turned to the fence and the girl cried out : watch out! I turned back and felt a prod in my back. That guy did it. I could hardly stand on my feet, and then the sportsman told me with spite «bloody Jew!». I was looking at him and could not get what my fault was. I will always remember how I was hurt. From that moment I had identified myself as a Jew.
There was anti-Semitism in everyday situations. I was teased by the boys : «small green kike is running on the rope ». Yes, I was tiny, but why green. I had a green suit. I could not understand those words. Those who teased me probably, could not understand that either. Well, children! Where could they hear that- they could not have come up with that! I also remember one case when I was playing with my friend, Estonian girl, in the yard of our house. The neighboring yard was fenced. A young guy jumped over than fence with a pole. He was a sportsman. I was standing with my back turned to the fence and the girl cried out : watch out! I turned back and felt a prod in my back. That guy did it. I could hardly stand on my feet, and then the sportsman told me with spite «bloody Jew!». I was looking at him and could not get what my fault was. I will always remember how I was hurt. From that moment I had identified myself as a Jew.
We did not observe Jewish very strictly. Of course, on Sabbath mother lit candles and made a festive dinner. Jewish holidays were also marked in accordance with all traditions. Parents went to the synagogue on holidays. While we were in Nőmme, father did not take me with him. There was a synagogue in Tallinn, and parents thought it was too long of a trip to me. As soon as we moved in Tallinn in 1940 I began going to the synagogue with father. At times grandmother took me there. On holidays mother cooked traditional Jewish dishes. She had Pascal dishes, which were used once a year. In other times we did not observe kashrut. Of course, we did not eat pork, but we did not. have separate dishes for milk and meat. Mother said that rabbi came in our place one. He even did not want to have a cup of tea when he saw that mother did not have kosher dishes. She had to treat him to the cake that he brought to us as he refused from eating anything else.
When I reached school age, mother wanted me to go to the Jewish school. There was no such school in Nomme and we had to move to Tallinn. Father decided that I had to study in a state school, Estonian. Mother was not willing to argue with dad, and I went to Estonian school. I was fluent in Estonian and had no problem with that. I had another issue. I was a feeble child, which is apparently the reason for my small height. There were boys in my class, who teased, pushed me and hurt me when they had a chance. Other than that, I was treated fairly. The teachers liked me. I had two teachers- one taught compulsory subjects the other one –Bible. Being a Jew, I was not supposed to attend the latter. If it was the last class, I went home. If it was in the middle of the day, I gladly attended it. The things taught in that class I remember like engrossing fairy-tales.
When I reached school age, mother wanted me to go to the Jewish school. There was no such school in Nomme and we had to move to Tallinn. Father decided that I had to study in a state school, Estonian. Mother was not willing to argue with dad, and I went to Estonian school. I was fluent in Estonian and had no problem with that. I had another issue. I was a feeble child, which is apparently the reason for my small height. There were boys in my class, who teased, pushed me and hurt me when they had a chance. Other than that, I was treated fairly. The teachers liked me. I had two teachers- one taught compulsory subjects the other one –Bible. Being a Jew, I was not supposed to attend the latter. If it was the last class, I went home. If it was in the middle of the day, I gladly attended it. The things taught in that class I remember like engrossing fairy-tales.
My parents got married in 1930. The wedding was very modest, but in accordance with the Jewish right. Then father borrowed some money and had the ad printed in the paper that Max Schiff was married Rebecca Seviov. He did it because his brother spread the rumor in town that my mother was not the wife, but the lover of my father. Thus father decided to do away with that. After wedding the parents rented apartment Tallinn’s suburb Nőmme, as they did not have enough money to rent the apartment in Tallinn.
All children got religious education. Boys went to cheder and daughters were taught by. All children went to the elementary school only. Only Lazar got a secular education, whom grandfather sent to lyceum. Lazar was very gifted since childhood. Grandfather paid his son’s tuition, but there was no money for the books. Lazar managed to become the second top student in the lyceum without having his own books.
Shortly after WW1 elder son Isaac left for Russia to seek fortune. When revolution took place in Russia [8], Isaac happened to be on the soviet territory and was separated from his family. First he wrote letters to the family, especially to Esfir, as they were bonded. Then it became dangerous for the citizens of Soviet Union to keep in touch with the relatives abroad [9], and they stopped writing to each other. Esfir was very worried thinking that Isaac was dead., but there were other people in Estonia, whose relatives were living in the USSR, and they also got no letters. Suddenly, one letter came from Isaac. It resembled the headlines of the soviet newspaper- eulogy to the soviet regime. The last phrase was: a lot of food, full abundance, especially there is much kadoches [editor’s note: in Yiddish kadoches mean trouble]. The last phrase contained the main message in the letter. The censorship let the letter go. It was great that the censor was not a Jew. There were no other letters from Isaac and did not know what was happening with him.
Grandfather was very religious. Narva Jew respected him, listened to his words, though he was a simple man. He was considered almost a saint. He kept the door open for people and almost anybody could come to him for a support. If the new-comer did not have a place to stay, he went to grandpa. He was given food and a place to sleep. Of course, grandfather always tried helping people the best way he could. He was the only bread-winner in the family, though the family was large. If grandfather could not help anybody himself, he went to other Jews and said: «Need help!». If grandfather said it, noboby refused him. There was a trarist regiment in Narva and there were some Jewish soldiers. They were given absence without leave, where could they go in a strange? Grandpa always had a door open to them, especially in Sabbath or on the days of Jewish holidays. We had a lot of people in our house on Jewish people. Some people forgot about grandfather, but he was friends with some of them. Once, one Jew, whom grandfather helped, left for America. He got settled well there and started suggesting grandfather move to America with the family. He also offered his support. Grandfather started processing the documents for departure. It was the year of 1913. Pictures were needed for the documents to be processed, and grandfather went to rabbi to ask where he could take picture for the photograph. Of course, rabbi gave him permission. It was the only photograph of grandfather that I have. Grandfather was 46 in that picture. When grandfather got the documents, WW1 was unleashed and they could not leave. In 1920 grandfather Iosif Seviov died. He was buried according to the Jewish rite in the Jewish cemetery in Narva. All Narva Jews came to his funeral. According to the Jewish law, the defunct cannot be brought in the synagogue with the exception of the prophets. The Narva Jewish community, which was rather large, made grandfather equal to the prophet, and brought him in the synagogue. They say it was very rare. Then they carried his coffin in hands for about 5 or 7 kilometers to the grave. It was a big honor for my grandfather for his living like a saint and helping people, taking care of those who needed support. Nobody helped the orphaned family. Grandmother remained by herself with five children. She did not have any profession, and she started working as a seamstress. There was not enough money and soon family turned into very poor. The family starved, had no money for the rent. They had lived for three years without paying for the rent. The Estonian landlord helped them a lot. He had not asked them to pay for accommodation. The eldest sister Esfir was the first to leave for Tallinn. Soon the whole family went there. Children started working and save money. One day they came in Narva and paid off the debt to the landlord. He told them: «Children took after their father ».
Shortly after WW1 elder son Isaac left for Russia to seek fortune. When revolution took place in Russia [8], Isaac happened to be on the soviet territory and was separated from his family. First he wrote letters to the family, especially to Esfir, as they were bonded. Then it became dangerous for the citizens of Soviet Union to keep in touch with the relatives abroad [9], and they stopped writing to each other. Esfir was very worried thinking that Isaac was dead., but there were other people in Estonia, whose relatives were living in the USSR, and they also got no letters. Suddenly, one letter came from Isaac. It resembled the headlines of the soviet newspaper- eulogy to the soviet regime. The last phrase was: a lot of food, full abundance, especially there is much kadoches [editor’s note: in Yiddish kadoches mean trouble]. The last phrase contained the main message in the letter. The censorship let the letter go. It was great that the censor was not a Jew. There were no other letters from Isaac and did not know what was happening with him.
Grandfather was very religious. Narva Jew respected him, listened to his words, though he was a simple man. He was considered almost a saint. He kept the door open for people and almost anybody could come to him for a support. If the new-comer did not have a place to stay, he went to grandpa. He was given food and a place to sleep. Of course, grandfather always tried helping people the best way he could. He was the only bread-winner in the family, though the family was large. If grandfather could not help anybody himself, he went to other Jews and said: «Need help!». If grandfather said it, noboby refused him. There was a trarist regiment in Narva and there were some Jewish soldiers. They were given absence without leave, where could they go in a strange? Grandpa always had a door open to them, especially in Sabbath or on the days of Jewish holidays. We had a lot of people in our house on Jewish people. Some people forgot about grandfather, but he was friends with some of them. Once, one Jew, whom grandfather helped, left for America. He got settled well there and started suggesting grandfather move to America with the family. He also offered his support. Grandfather started processing the documents for departure. It was the year of 1913. Pictures were needed for the documents to be processed, and grandfather went to rabbi to ask where he could take picture for the photograph. Of course, rabbi gave him permission. It was the only photograph of grandfather that I have. Grandfather was 46 in that picture. When grandfather got the documents, WW1 was unleashed and they could not leave. In 1920 grandfather Iosif Seviov died. He was buried according to the Jewish rite in the Jewish cemetery in Narva. All Narva Jews came to his funeral. According to the Jewish law, the defunct cannot be brought in the synagogue with the exception of the prophets. The Narva Jewish community, which was rather large, made grandfather equal to the prophet, and brought him in the synagogue. They say it was very rare. Then they carried his coffin in hands for about 5 or 7 kilometers to the grave. It was a big honor for my grandfather for his living like a saint and helping people, taking care of those who needed support. Nobody helped the orphaned family. Grandmother remained by herself with five children. She did not have any profession, and she started working as a seamstress. There was not enough money and soon family turned into very poor. The family starved, had no money for the rent. They had lived for three years without paying for the rent. The Estonian landlord helped them a lot. He had not asked them to pay for accommodation. The eldest sister Esfir was the first to leave for Tallinn. Soon the whole family went there. Children started working and save money. One day they came in Narva and paid off the debt to the landlord. He told them: «Children took after their father ».
After sanatorium father had spent one year in Vienna as great grandmother insisted. He liked Vienna very much. Great grandmother was entrepreneurial. She was the only who made money and she enjoyed respect of businessmen. As for her agents, the Christians, she could enter their place only from the back door, because she was a Jew. These were such humiliating rules for the Jews and even money could not change it. A Jew had no right to go to the ball room. My father was baptized and those rules did not apply to him. He was a habitué of the dancing parties. He was often invited there as he was considered to be a rich heir. Great grandmother was cruel. He did not let father live in her apartment, she rented some lodging for him.. Father told me about one case, which characterized great grandmother. Once father came home and saw that the door was burgled in. He came in the room and saw that his desk was open and papers were all over the floor. Father could not get what was happening. The neighbors told him that some old lady came, rang the door and when nobody answered, she called the janitor, pointed at the door and said: «Break!». Great grandmother came to see what her grandson was doing. She had the toughest character.
Only in Vienna father found out that he came of Jewish family and that his great grandmother was a Jew and her son Morris was a Jew. Father did not know anything about his Jewish origin before that. It changed his life. Probably in Vienna he decided that he would marry only a Jew. At any rate when he was back home, he started looking for a bride among Jewish girls, without telling anything to his parents. Grandmother would definitely be against that marriage. My father met mother by chance. Mother told me that during the shopping father came up to her and asked her why she had such accent when speaking Estonian. Mother lied to dad saying that she was from Russia. In actuality she was born in Estonian town Narva [about 200 km from Tallinn], bordering on Russia. My mother really spoke bad Estonian and her Russian was no so good. Narva dialect differed from typical Russia. Somehow mother felt awkward to tell father the truth. This is how they met and started seeing each other.
Only in Vienna father found out that he came of Jewish family and that his great grandmother was a Jew and her son Morris was a Jew. Father did not know anything about his Jewish origin before that. It changed his life. Probably in Vienna he decided that he would marry only a Jew. At any rate when he was back home, he started looking for a bride among Jewish girls, without telling anything to his parents. Grandmother would definitely be against that marriage. My father met mother by chance. Mother told me that during the shopping father came up to her and asked her why she had such accent when speaking Estonian. Mother lied to dad saying that she was from Russia. In actuality she was born in Estonian town Narva [about 200 km from Tallinn], bordering on Russia. My mother really spoke bad Estonian and her Russian was no so good. Narva dialect differed from typical Russia. Somehow mother felt awkward to tell father the truth. This is how they met and started seeing each other.
The family moved to Estonia before my father was born. We settled in Valga, in the town bordering on Latvia. At that time all that territory, both Latvia and Estonia were part of Russian Empire. German and Russian were spoken there. German was a mother tongue for grandmother, but she did not know Russian at all, but in spite of her deafness she managed to learn the language. Grandmother was a housewife, which was customary for those times. My father Max Schiff was born in Valga on 30 November 1903. His full name was René-Maks-Aleksander-Johann. In 1910 father’s younger brother was born in Valga. I cannot recall his name. The matter is that we never talked about him in the family. Both of them were baptized when they were born.
Before the outbreak of World War One my grandfather kept a café at the train station in Valga. In 1914 World War One was unleashed. Neither grandfather no grandmother had Russian citizenship; both of them were the subjects of Austrian and Hungarian empire. They were not affected by that before the war and did not see the sense in getting Russian citizenship. During the war their family was deported to Irkutsk [far north of Russia, about 4500 km from Moscow] for the being the citizens of bellicose to Russia country. They stayed there during the war and then moved back to Estonia, but not in Valga, but Tallinn. It was the period of war for Estonian independence [2], and only during that time[3] grandmother and grandfather got Estonian citizenship. My father and his brother were subjects of Estonia, since there were born there.
I would not say that the family of father’s parents was rich, but they were well off rather. They did not have their own lodging in Tallinn, so they rented a big apartment in the center of Tallinn. In spite of the fact that grandmother had big hearing problems, they had two grand-pianos and she could play the piano very well. She took care children and of the household, while grandfather earned money. Grandfather kept had a small café in Tallinn in Chernogolov club (there was an aristocratic club). Grandparents were very different. Grandmother must have been like her mother- tightfisted, but grandfather knew how to maker money and how to spend them. He was a womanizer, he liked guests and feasts. It is strange that they had lived together for such a long time. It seems to me that in 1939 grandfather divorced grandmother, but he often called on her to have a cup of coffee. He lived with a lover, who was much younger than he was. She was about 30. Grandfather died in 1941 couple of weeks before Germans entered Tallinn. He had an easy death- his heart stopped beating. He was much luckier than many Tallinn Jews – he was not killed, but died at the eleventh hour, not to see the atrocity of German occupation.
Before the outbreak of World War One my grandfather kept a café at the train station in Valga. In 1914 World War One was unleashed. Neither grandfather no grandmother had Russian citizenship; both of them were the subjects of Austrian and Hungarian empire. They were not affected by that before the war and did not see the sense in getting Russian citizenship. During the war their family was deported to Irkutsk [far north of Russia, about 4500 km from Moscow] for the being the citizens of bellicose to Russia country. They stayed there during the war and then moved back to Estonia, but not in Valga, but Tallinn. It was the period of war for Estonian independence [2], and only during that time[3] grandmother and grandfather got Estonian citizenship. My father and his brother were subjects of Estonia, since there were born there.
I would not say that the family of father’s parents was rich, but they were well off rather. They did not have their own lodging in Tallinn, so they rented a big apartment in the center of Tallinn. In spite of the fact that grandmother had big hearing problems, they had two grand-pianos and she could play the piano very well. She took care children and of the household, while grandfather earned money. Grandfather kept had a small café in Tallinn in Chernogolov club (there was an aristocratic club). Grandparents were very different. Grandmother must have been like her mother- tightfisted, but grandfather knew how to maker money and how to spend them. He was a womanizer, he liked guests and feasts. It is strange that they had lived together for such a long time. It seems to me that in 1939 grandfather divorced grandmother, but he often called on her to have a cup of coffee. He lived with a lover, who was much younger than he was. She was about 30. Grandfather died in 1941 couple of weeks before Germans entered Tallinn. He had an easy death- his heart stopped beating. He was much luckier than many Tallinn Jews – he was not killed, but died at the eleventh hour, not to see the atrocity of German occupation.
My great grandmother was a real dictator and had her daughters get married without their accord. There was only one of her daughters who had love wedlock. I do not remember her name. Grandmother said about her sister that she hade mother’s character – was very decisive and tough. She refused from her dowry and inheritance, and married a poor man, whom she loved. She was the only one from the sisters who had a happy marriage. Great grandmother did not feel her fault for ruining her daughter’s life. She felt that she was guilty only because of one daughter. Great grandmother married one of her daughters off to a bankrupt aristocrat, who was allured by the dowry. Money even made him forget that his future wife was a baptized Jew. When he married her, he constantly reproached her for that, even beat. Once, he hit her head with a whip so hard that she became insane and had to stay in the mental asylum till the end of her days. Great grandmother tried to redress her wrong-doing and put her daughter in the best clinic, but still it was of no help.