The Bellin Story

Lillie Pope

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THE OLD YARDAssisted by Martin

We sit in the kitchen in our old house. It is more than 100years old. We have lived in it for more than 60 years, more than halfof its total age, so it could rightly be said that this is our house.We moved here in 1947, and since then very little in it has changed. Timehas stopped inside our house. The kitchen is pretty much the same.We've changed the refrigerator and the stove, but the layout is thesame. The cupboards are still too high for me to reach. One portion ofthe archway going into the kitchen has not been painted in perhaps 30years, advisedly so, because it contains the heights and ages of allthe children who have passed through these portals. They are greatlytreasured by these children as they grow older, and come in and lookat their childhood records on the wall.. Some of them have started wallsof their own.

The house is idiosyncratic. It reflects our interests. Children callit a museum. It has rocks, fossils, pictures all over the walls.

There is a comfortable chair for lying down. Our hi-fi system hasnot been working for many years, The kitchen linoleum flooring isimitation brick. It was laid down more than 40 years ago, and it isindestructible. I guess that they have forgotten how to make stufflike that. In the pine paneling in the kitchen wall, where I sit, isthe image of a monkey; near Martin, at the other end, is an image ofa Russian wolfhound, The shelf on which the radio sits is made from apiece of Emanuel's bed; it had been sitting in the basement for 40 years untilMartin took it up to make the shelf. The basement is a bottomlesssource of everything needed to run the house.

The first thing people notice when they enter the house is that theceilings are very high. This was typical in the late 19thcentury, when this house was built. One of the first things we did was to build a pantry to replace the ramshackle one that was originally behind the kitchen. Hidden behind a panel in the doorway to the pantry was a newspaper, dated 1898. It was aboutthe Spanish American war and the trouble with Cuba. At the time wefound it, the US was having the same amount of trouble with Cuba, sothe news was timely, though one century apart.

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This is our house. We have shaped it. It fits us. And the childrenwho come back here as adults love the fact that it has not changed.In the backyard, we have this little playhouse built by high schoolstudents in the vocational school in which I taught. They sold it to mefor ten dollars, because they no longer needed it. There it sits, complete, shingledroof, beautiful doors, windows, a giant playhouse for children. Wealways had tree houses. The yard looks empty without a tree house.That's our house.

A workman from Trinidad made some repairs for us, and asked a few questionsabout the house--its age and its history. He was very interested, andthen said, "We have homes like that. We call them THE OLD YARD.”Hence the name, THE OLD YARD.

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BLOG 101: WHY I BLOGPeople ask me what my blog is about. I can’t answer that. I am trying to figure out why I want to blog.

My earliest school memories are those of wanting to be a writer of books, but fiction was not for me. I matured into wanting to be a journalist—to see the world and write about what is happening everywhere. With this goal, I had minor success. I succeeded in becoming a high school reporter for the Coney Island Times (a local newspaper), and then joining the staff of school papers. I collected my thoughts on scraps of paper, hoping to publish them some day; this did not work out.

As I look back now, I realize that I probably wanted an audience. During my working years (described elsewhere), I got an audience, a large audience. In my role as a teacher-trainer, a teacher and a trainer of volunteers and parents in the battle against illiteracy, I became a much sought-after accomplished public speaker. I have made thousands of speeches. Now I had my audience—in person.

My audience wanted me to write for them the substance of my lectures. And so now I was and am a writer, as well.

My audience appreciates me, and I appreciate them.

The funny thing is that I do not write out my speeches. I know my subject; I present it extemporaneously, and with particular reference to the group I am addressing. I can honestly say that I never know exactly what I am going to say, and I am delighted when the audience laughs and is responsive. No one falls asleep, and I am invited for return engagements. So apparently I have achieved my goal.

What is my blog about? I’ll let you know after I’ve done it for a while.

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My nephew suggests that I tell you the story of my life, which he thinks you would find interesting. It is actually the story of the life of a first generation American in a changing world.

And I hope to share with you everyday experiences and thoughts that may even mirror those that you have.

We’ll see.

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We Have Survived!

”We have survived terrorism, wars and depressions, but also enjoyed good times with our families, friends and colleagues. We have survived.

Consider the changes we have witnessed—to name a few. We were born before television, before penicillin, before polio shots, frozen foods, Xerox, plastics (yea, plastics), contact lenses, Frisbees and the PILL. We were born before radar, even credit cards, split atoms, laser beams and the ever-popular ballpoint pens. We are pre-panty hose, dishwashers, clothes dryers, electric blankets, air conditioners, drip dry clothes—and before man walked on the moon. We have survived.”(From a Hunter College Alumnae letter).

Also: pre electric typewriter, pre-computer, pre-microwave oven, pre-cellular phone, air travel, freezer and Pampers. We lived with carbon paper, washboards, and clothes lines.

===============================4FOREWORD

I have here described some of the events in my life. Much has been omitted, though, if pressed, I could expand on every item mentioned. Please do not focus on the omissions. If you truly want to know more about any person, event, or the times of yesteryear, please ask me—while I am still around. I promise to tell all—or almost all.

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MY ANTECEDENTS

Let me tell you what I remember of my childhood, and of the families of my parents: these were my family when I was a child. I will tell you first about my father’s family.

My father reminded me many times that I must not forget my heritage. “Fargess nicht dein yiches! Du bist Yoinem dem Ruv’s Ihreinickel!” “Remember your origin! You are the great granddaughter of the Grand Rabbi Jonah!”. Pop had a great sense of humor, as well as a disrespect of hierarchy. But he was not given to fabricating. So there you have it: my heritage!

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Papa was the youngest sibling of between nine and eleven children born to Bayla and Leib Belitzky near Odessa. The oldest was Ida; then Eda; then Sam, who was the oldest male child, ten years older than Itzik, my father. Rose was somewhere in-between. The others did not come to this country; some perished as children.

Beila and Leib lived on the lower East Side when I was very little. I have almost no recollection of Leib, but I know that he was very scholarly; he died when I was very little. I knew my grandmother very well. She lived with us, sharing my bedroom. She liked the window closed; I liked it open. We did not get along well. Now I realize that she had no patience for children, and that she did not enjoy living with her daughter in law, who was an atheist (as was her son), and who was poor. Friday evenings she would light the candles, with lace over her head and the prayer book in her hand, rocking back and forth reciting the prayers. I was mean. Knowing that she could not read, I would stand next to her, urging her to read and explain the printed words to me. As I said, we did not get along well.

Ida and Rose were very comfortable economically—Itzik and Annie were poor. Ida and Rose refused to house Grandma; instead, they paid Mama and Papa ten dollars a month to keep Baba as a boarder. Mom, in addition to keeping house and cooking for all of us, worked full time during that period in our paint store so that Papa could go out to earn a living. Mom, managing all these things, was a marvelous cook and a relaxed housekeeper. Ida and Rose would come to visit Grandma regularly, but never offered to assist with her care.

When I was eight years old (1926), Baba died. That was the occasion of one of my special memories. We had a paint store on Stillwell Avenue at the time, and Pop wanted to put a sign in the window to signify our closing for the day of the funeral. I helped him with the spelling: “Closed on account of death in the family.” He did not trust my spelling of the word “death.” He stopped a stranger in the street, and asked him how to spell “dett”; the reply was “debt.” The sign in the window then read “Closed on account of debt in the family.”

6. Sam worked through all the years for Meyer in the glass and mirror business. He worked steadily and for low wages, yet enough to support his large family on a low economic level. They lived in Brownsville, not far from the Loew’s Pitkin Theatre. Despite his small wages, they saved at the U. S. Savings Bank, and when the bank collapsed at the outset of the Great Depression, they stood outside the bank, as did thousands of others—watching all their dreams collapse.

Edis and Sam brought European culture and expectations to our land: the girls had to meet good, solid men who could support them, and marry. Education was not essential. The men should seek education, since that would help them move forward.

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Brom and Sydelle had two boys, Lowell and Eugene., who both became physicians. Lowell recalled that his mother used to point to me as a model for him: finish college and rise. Interestingly, she did not mention the Dubin girls as models. Rise he did: he became the head of HIP in Springfield, MA, and then moved on to head the NYC Health Department. Lowell married a social worker, and they lived in Flatbush, around E. 22 St and Avenue J. They practiced orthodoxy, and we had little social interaction with them, but much good feeling. =================

Whom did I leave out? Papa was the mezinick in the family (the youngest). Deborah wrote up Pop’s story, and with her permission, it will be inserted here. Itzik was quite different from the rest: he was a free thinker, an independent thinker, a socialist. He depended on Mom to keep the family bonds working—which she did. In those days, family was so important—for bonding, for survival, for support, for culture. It seems to have worked, even when individuals differed in their values.

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BACKGROUND: The Chusid Story--IMMIGRANTS IN AMERICA

Papa came to this country around 1908 to escape the police and a bleak future in Russia. He had been a member of the Bund, a forbidden socialist group, and he and his friends were betrayed by an informer. He landed at Ellis Island, where, when he told them his name was “Belitsky”, they shortened it to “Bellin”. In Europe, he had been a bookbinder. Here, he rented a room on Chrystie Street in lower Manhattan, and looked for work as a paperhanger. In this trade, he could use the skills he had gained as a bookbinder. He looked for ”landsleit”, and met Annie Chusid,. whom he had known casually in Odessa, Russia.

Annie was a dental mechanic in Odessa. She was the oldest daughter (and the second oldest child) of Mollie and Sam Chusid

In Odessa, the Chusid family had a wholesale potato business; they had a potato cellar, and delivered sacks of potatoes to greengrocers and other vendors. The business was run by Mollie; Sam was a scholar, and read and studied. As far as I know, they were nevertheless not religious. They had great respect for learning, but they were secular Jews; they certainly were tolerant of and accepting of atheism in their offspring, of whom they had many: Moissaye, Annie, Mendel, Nathan, Sonia, Paul, Reva, Luba, Joe, and two others who perished as children.

Nathan was the first to venture to America, which was then a Goldene Medina. He emigrated with his wife Sonia. Annie followed them a year or two later, and they were a great help to her. Annie also came in steerage class; for the rest of her life she would be nauseated by hot dogs, because she had been seasick on the ship where apparently hot dogs had been served.

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Moissaye never came to America; he preferred to stay in the homeland. Annie became a shop steward here in the women’s garment industry. She was a capable and hard worker, and saved most of her earnings in order to bring the rest of the family to America. Finally, Nathan and Annie were able to send tickets for their parents and siblings to come here. The family business was sold; the home was closed, and the family started on their journey to the promised land. As they reached the Russian border, in 1914, the shots in Sarajevo marked the opening of the first World War. War was declared, and they were refused exit from Russia.

Back to Odessa, back to the potato cellar. One year later, Annie and Nathan sent tickets again, and this time the family was able to come. The immigrant familyrented two apartments on East 13 Street between First and Second Avenues-both on parlor floors of brownstone houses. The one closer to First Avenue was a place of business, a home restaurant run by Mollie, with the assistance of her unmarried daughters and a lady named Feigie. The other apartment, a few doors down towards Second Avenue, was their living quarters. The restaurant was in the front large room, with small tables. Dadya (Uncle) would sit at the center table at the back of the room, with his back to the windows, drinking a glass of tea. He would pour it from the glass into a deep saucer (which we called a “shulele”, and suck it through a lump of sweet sugar between his teeth. The restaurant catered to landsleit from our grandparents’ area, the Podolska Gubernia. (Bratslav?). Grandma would cook, and Sonia, Reva and Luba would serve, clean the dishes, mop the floors, and quarrel about who should do what and who was working the hardest. Reva would offer her arm to her sisters, and say, “What more do you want? Take a bite of me!”

Zayda (Grandpa), still the scholar, now had to pitch in to support the family and to pay the rent. In the front parlor of the apartment that they lived in, he had many books; he also had empty notebooks in which one could write in Yiddish. The writing lines were parallel pairs of lines to support the Yiddish script. It was wondrous when he would give those books to us as gifts; he gave them to me and probably to Murray as well. The others were too young. As an applied scholar, he had a newspaper, magazine and candy stand at the corner of 13 Street and First Avenue—the northwest corner. It was the kind of stand we see in NYC now from time to time.

Zayda was a quiet, nice man. He gave us a love of books and Chanukah gelt—real money

Nathan was the first to venture to America, which was then a Goldene Medina. He emigrated with his wife Sonia. Annie followed them a year or two later, and they were a great help to her. Annie also came in steerage class; for the rest of her life she would be nauseated by hot dogs, because she had been seasick on the ship where apparently hot dogs had been served.

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6AIda (Chaika) was the oldest of the siblings to immigrate to the states, I believe. Here

she married Gedalya (Joseph) Dubin, who had had a previous marriage, and already had childrenIn their earliest years here, Ida and Joseph literally pushed a

pushcart selling candies in the lower East Side of Manhattan. The pushcart vending was so successful that uncle Dubin opened a candy factory, which was indeed very successful. Ida, and Joseph had two daughters: Mildred and Beatrice. They lived

in a fine brownstone house on the parlor floor in Madison Street, near Gates Avenue in Bushwick. This is now Bedford-Stuyvesant. They had beautiful

furniture, and had already absorbed the standards and values of American culture. Mildred and Beatrice both went to college, an unheard of goal at that time. They were kind, genteel, gracious and very American. Ida was a good mother to all of

them,

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Mendel came to America with the family. He was an adventurer, and he liked the military. America was at war, and Mendel joined the army. After joining the military, he was disillusioned by it, and wanted “out”. He called his family from Ft. Schuyler (he was stationed near NYC) and asked them to buy him out. At that time, one could be discharged for the price of two hundred dollars. Luba and Annie pooled their funds, and got Mendel out of the army. He then chose to return to Russia, which by now was on the eve of the revolution. There he also joined the army, one of the few Jews to do so. In addition to his military bent, he was also politically connected, and he was dispatched by Russia to be the Russian consul or to work in the Russian consulate in Canton, China. By now he had married, and in Canton, he and his wife had their first child, our cousin Kant (named after Canton). Shortly after Kant’s birth, they returned to their homeland. Kant’s birth certificate, issued in China, gave Kant many problems during his lifetime. Mendel remained associated with the military, and during the second World War, was the first (and only?) Jewish Russian general. He did not return from the war.

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Murray, as he grew older, trained for teaching music in the NYC schools. In the meantime, during the depression, he gave music lessons, and also worked in bands on cruise ships. He tried to teach me to play the piano, at fifty cents a lesson, to no avail.

He was finally appointed to teach in the city schools at Stuyvesant High School, but I doubt that he enjoyed it.

Murray explored the world culturally, technically and in every way. He would learn of new things before they were introduced to the rest of the world: he

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introduced us to the Federal Theatre (Hallie Flanagan’s) and the Living Newspaper (he worked there); he brought home the first crystal radio, an unbelievable object; and he took me to a restaurant to sample a real Italian peasant food unknown to America: a pizza! He was our link to the future.

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When the twins were nine or ten, Martin and I were married. Martin was a chemist, also very bright, and also very knowledgeable. Luba took me under her wing and advised me on the little things that are important: the only tuna worth buying was Chicken of the Sea, and always use Uncle Ben’s long grain rice. To this day I follow that advice.====================================

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THE BEGINNING OF MY STORY

I was born in Manhattan. That has become a measure of status. I was born in East Harlem, at 110 East 98 Street, on June 22, 1918. On the day I was born, my father was working at a job in Poughkeepsie, and Mama went to Sonia/Nathan’s home to give birth. A midwife assisted at the birth. Some days later, when the doctor had to fill out a birth certificate, he wrote “Libby” as my name, though Mama said my name should be Lillie. When Pop came home the next day, and he looked at the new arrival, he exclaimed, “That is a Tootsie.” Tootsie rolls were very popular at the time. And Tootsie became my familiar name until I disowned it at the age of 18 because some people used it disrespectfully. Some people still know me as Tootsie.

I was a nice-looking baby, and the family admired me a lot. One day, as they held me under the gas lamp to enjoy the looks of me, the gas lamp exploded, and pieces of glass hit me. One piece pierced my thigh; I still bear a scar from that incident.

During her pregnancy, Mama went frequently to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, convinced that prenatal cultural exposure would have an impact on me. After I was born, it was clear that Pop’s painting work was insufficient to support us. He and Mom then opened a Drygoods store on Third Avenue in the neighborhood where Sonia/Nathan and Mom and Pop lived. Mom tended the store; Pop tended the store with her when he was not out on a paint job. They tell two sweet stories. I used to wander in and out of the store when I was very little—perhaps two years old. A lady, walking down Third Avenue, saw me and thought I was a lost child. She took my hand and led me to the police station. After a while, my parents missed me. Pop went out hunting for me, and finally went to ask the police for assistance. As he entered the police station, he saw all the policemen clustered around a high post, on which sat Lillie. They were all having a great time, enjoying me! In the second story, I was a bit older, and could express myself quite well. I sat on the counter in the store, and Pop came in and asked, “Is gevein parnusse?” “Has there been any business?” Obviously he was asking Mom, but I answered, in Yiddish, “They came, they looked, and they left.” “Men is gekommen, gekucked, und aveck gegangen.”

The revenue at the dry goods shop was insufficient. In addition, Pop’s sisters had established themselves in Brooklyn, and he and Mom thought Brooklyn might be better. At first they moved to Stone Avenue in Brownsville. I remember none of that. Then they relocated to Bensonhurst, near Aunt Rose.

Our first home in Brooklyn was a corner apartment in a Bensonhurst tenement on the corner of Bay 38 Street and 86 Street. I was not yet of school age, and we had no clock in the house. When Mom needed to know the time, I would go down to look at a distant street clock, and I would call up to her, “The big hand is on 5, and the little hand is on 6.” Papa would buy the Journal, the best newspaper for the listing of jobs. He would get up before dawn, and walk to Manhattan to get

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a day job, always hoping that the job would still be available when he got there. Not only did he paint, but he also did small contracting jobs. And of course he was also a skillful paperhanger.

From there, we moved to 110 Bay 38 Street: a semi-detached two family brick house, where we occupied the upper floor. We moved many times after that, so I must explain what rental practices were at the time. Times were very bad, and rentals were a buyer’s market. Landlords lured tenants with low rentals, poor service, and offers of concession: several months of free rental upon moving in. No matter how good a deal an unemployed or underpaid tenant worked out, another landlord might offer a better deal. Poor families moved frequently. Their furniture and belongings were few. Two barrels could hold the breakables, so moving was easy. Only paying the rent was difficult.

Bay 38 Street was occupied by Jews and Italians. When a new kid moved onto the block, we surrounded him and asked which of those two categories fit him. He said, no, he was Spanish. “But are you Jewish or Italian?” we insisted. The Jewish families were religious, and we were not. On Friday nights and Saturdays, we drew the curtains so that they could not observe our ungodly ways. We lived directly across the street from P.S. 101—an old schoolhouse with no indoor toilet, but with a wealth of love and kindness. Mama saw no need for me to go to Kindergarten. I started in the first grade with Miss Murphy. She loved all the children, and I loved her. I still have a photograph of the first grade class. Leo Auerbach was in that class with me. In the picture I sat with my legs spread wide apart, wearing a middy blouse and a blue skirt, the uniform of the day. Eugene went to Kindergarten, and then he had Miss Murphy after me. At that house on Bay 38 Street, I sat on the front steps as children came to Eugene’s birthday party, and reminded them, “Don’t forget your presents!”

Our home on Bay 38th Street was near the ocean, still a countrified part of the city, though it was near the elevated train that carried people to Coney Island at one end (not far from us), and to Manhattan at the other end. Ulmer Park, a private bathing community, was one block from us; Aunt Rose used to take us there on occasion. There was much empty space in the area: lots without buildings, but with lots of weeds, grass and wild flowers. One of our favorite occupations was to pick daisies and black-eyed susans—and make daisy chains for necklaces and headdresses. We would hold buttercups to our throats; if they reflected yellow, “she loved me”, if not, “she loved me not.” We would throw stickers at each other. And one of my favorite flowers were the “four o’clocks.” It was many years afterwards when I saw four o’clocks again; that was in China in 1978. For some reason, they had disappeared in the Brooklyn communities that I was familiar with. And we would tell time by blowing on the dandelion blossoms. This we still do. The Italian ladies picked dandelion greens to cook. The dandelions grew wild in these lots. Cattails too. There were as many beautiful butterflies as there were children. On occasion, we improvised nets to catch them.

All of these lots have since been “developed.” Built up. There is not an empty lot or wild flowers anywhere in these areas.

On weekends, we would sometimes have outings to Coney Island with the whole extended family. The elevated train would carry us to the Stillwell Avenue

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station, and then the Norton Point trolley car would take us to the Bay 30’s, toward the western end of Coney Island. We would carry blankets to designate our turf, towels and bathing suits, dry clothes to change into, toy pails to play with in the sand—and tons of picnic food. When we could afford to, we would rent a large umbrella to provide some shade. This was very seldom. We never rented deck chairs that were available for relaxing, nor did we rent the lockers that were available for changing. We had a wonderful time at these outings. We also got beautiful sunburns every season.

Though every penny was difficult to earn, and had to be accounted for, Pop was a hard-working adventurer, and was ahead of his time. He needed a vehicle for his work, and also to be in tune with the times: he bought a Gardner Touring Convertible! It was the first car experienced by the whole family, as well as the whole community. It was very second-hand; be bought it for a few dollars, and eventually sold it to Murray for ten dollars. It was a thrilling buy. Pop loaded all the kids in the neighborhood into that convertible, with the hood down, and took us all for our first joy ride. He drove up Bath Avenue and down Benson Avenue (with no other vehicles around) at the incredible rate of twenty miles an hour! It was more exciting than the Cyclone in Coney Island! When, on hot summer evenings, we sat out in front of the house to cool off, Pop would sometimes take us on an outing: driving to Coney Island, down Surf Avenue and back home. This was our touring to see the sights—and it created a slight breeze to cool us off. We would also take very long trips in the car, to visit Grandma’s restaurant in Manhattan. And to visit Uncle Sam and Aunt Edis in Brownsville: driving through the country farms up Kings Highway to Howard Avenue to Pitkin Avenue.

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I was recently introduced to the autobiography of Dr. Oliver Sacks. I was impressed by the similarities between Dr. Sacks as a child and Martin. There was one major difference, however. Dr. Sacks was surrounded by scientists in a middle class environment; his family urged him to l explore. They set up a laboratory for him. In Martin’s case, the streets and the kitchen were his laboratory. Whatever he did was on is own. He made his own tools, and the local pharmacy was the source of his chemicals. His family tolerated his scientific drive. His heritage was the book and “learning”.

Our old house photo on p. 82 of book.

At NYU he has made discoveries that have resonated all over during world, especially during the critical period of climate change. They are now accruing millions of dollars for industry, and he was invited all over the world to share his knowledge and wisdom

--to Puerto Ricco to help establish a center for study and research in Physics;--to China to train their top scientists in the field (this I will describe

elsewhere)To Israel,--to Egypt--to Latvia--to Poland

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--to Kiev and Moscow--to JapanAnd to many other countries whose invitations he could not accept because

he could not spare the time.I accompanied him on most of his trips. In China I kept a log because so

little was known about China at the time.;

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Can You Really Help? What Do These Students Need? On the simplest and most compelling level, children, adolescents and adults who have failed to learn need to know someone who listens to them, has confidence in them, and treats them with courtesy, respect, and appreciation. They need to know someone who understands that a thirst for knowledge, the ability to work in order to learn, and, in many cases, the ability to control oneself are more immediately important than getting regular haircuts or dressing in a suit and tie. They need an instructor who has the time to focus on them. They need encouragement to develop skills and inspiration to use them. To build a positive relationship with the student, the instructor needs to be respectful, kind, consistent and honest. His time and his undivided attention whenever possible, are precious gifts to the student. By offering solid support in the areas in which the student lacks skills, the instructor can build a firm foundation for the student’s success. Rather than saying that he will “teach the student to read”, it is more helpful for the instructor to say “he will try to help her learn”. In this way, the student can take full credit for her accomplishment.

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BACKGROUND: THE BELLIN FAMILY


I have almost no recollection of Leib, but I know that he was very scholarly; he died when I was very little. I knew my grandmother very well. She lived with us, sharing my bedroom. She liked the window closed; I liked it open. We did not get along well. Now I realize that she had no patience for children, and that she did not enjoy living with her daughter in law, who was an atheist (as was her son), and who was poor. Friday evenings she would light the candles, with lace over her head and the prayer book in her hand, rocking back and forth reciting the prayers. I was mean. Knowing that she could not read, I would stand next to her, urging her to read and explain the printed words to me. As I said, we did not get along well.

Ida and Rose were very comfortable economically—Itzik and Annie were poor. Ida and Rose refused to house Grandma; instead, they paid Mama and Papa ten dollars a month to keep Baba as a boarder. Mom, in addition to keeping house and cooking for all of us, worked full time during that period in our paint store so that Papa could go out to earn a living. Mom, managing all these things, was a marvelous cook and a relaxed housekeeper. Ida and Rose would come to visit Grandma regularly, but never offered to assist with her physical care.

Sam (and his wife Edis) were poor as well, and were beset by their own problems, so they could not help either. Eventually, the sisters arranged for Grandma to go to the Hebrew Home for the Aged on Howard Avenue. Now I could keep the window openDespite Grandma and the difference in economic levels, there was good family bonding, and we would all get together regularly, though most often when they came to see Grandma at our house. Their stories are typical of the immigrants of that time.

-0-0-0-Aunt Eda came after Ida did, and she met and married Cohon (that is how

the name was pronounced). I think it was Harry Cohen. They too peddled a pushcart, this time with Halvah. And they too were very successful, finally establishing the Joyva Halvah Company: “It’s good for you if you want to lose weight, or to gain weight. If you want to lose weight, eat it instead of a meal. If you want to gain weight, eat it as dessert.” Harry was a big man, not too verbal. It was the greatest thing to visit them on their home on President Street near Utica Avenue: Uncle Harry would give us a box of chocolate covered halvah to take home. And on birthdays and special celebrations, he would give us a five dollar gold piece! That was worth a million dollars to us!.

Aunt Eda was a loving aunt, but inhibited in expressing her love. They were unable to have children, and so they adopted through a Jewish agency. They selected Ruth, a warm, outgoing and lovable three year old who is now our dear cousin. When we went to visit them for the first time after Ruth’s arrival, we took

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with us a gift of a ton of swatches cut from Mom’s sewing bin: I found these exciting for making doll clothes; Ruth found the gift equally exciting.

Eda wanted to be nearer to family, and she wanted Ruth to be nearer her cousins. They moved from President Street to Ditmas Avenue and East 3rd Street, one block from our store at the time. This was Boro Park bordering on Bensonhurst. Ruth was outgoing and made lots of friends there, and finally met Joe, the prize of Boro Park, whom she married.

Ruth was warmly welcomed by Joe’s family, and bonded with all of them.. Joe was a wonderful husband and father to their daughter. He formed a close friendship with Martin: he was extremely bright, curious, and interested in science, technology, and human relations. And he had golden hands, as does Martin. Their great regret was that the trip from W. Hempstead, where they lived, to Midwood was a long trip. They would have liked to spend a lot more time with us.

Harry Cohen worked many evenings, and also went to the Schvitzbood very often. Harry and Eda had a falling out, and they separated. Business had already gotten bad, and he did not do well after that. He was reported to have been buried in Chicago.

Eda now had no income. The wealth was gone. And no income. So she moved in with us. We now lived on Elmwood Avenue. Papa privatized one large front room for her

Aunt Rose. Aunt Rose married Meyer Melnick, (somehow I think his American name was Abe) and he built a glass and mirror business a 212 Lafayette Street in Manhattan, near Kenmare. He also sold framed reproductions of paintings for the home. They lived on Bay Parkway, near Bath Avenue, in one of the apartment houses that is still standing there, and then later moved to an apartment house on Bay 29 Street. When we moved to Brooklyn, we moved near to Aunt Rose. That was the custom at that time: stay near family in this new world.

Aunt Rose would take us to the private beach at Ulmer Park, which was at 25 Avenue near Cropsey. They charged admission for the use of the “changing lockers.” To save money, we would wear our bathing suits under our outer clothing, and slip off the outer clothing when no one was looking. We’d swim in this private beach, and get dressed again as stealthily as possible to go home, one block away. Aunt Rose would ask me to sleep with her when uncle Meyer had to go away overnight on some business trips.

.Whom did I leave out? Papa was the mezinick in the family (the youngest).

Deborah wrote up Pop’s story, and with her permission, it will be inserted here. Itzik was quite different from the rest: he was a free thinker, an independent thinker, a socialist. He depended on Mom to keep the family bonds working—which she did. In those days, family was so important—for bonding, for survival, for support, for culture. It seems to have worked, even when individuals differed in their values.

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10 Compare to earlier description)BACKGROUND: The Chusid Story--IMMIGRANTS IN

AMERICA

Annie was a dental mechanic in Odessa. She was the oldest daughter (and the second oldest child) of Mollie and Sam Chusid He would give me a quarter, and he’d give Murray a half dollar. I never reached the half dollar level.

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Luba (at the time we called her Libby, until she rebelled and enforced the name Luba) enrolled at Washington Irving High School, and enjoyed her schooling there. She then found employment at Amtorg and Amderutra, both Russian-American trading companies, where she was comfortable, earned good American dollars, and was highly respected. There she had discounts on beautiful things imported from Russia, and access to language classes. She made it possible for me to attend classes there to learn the Russian language; I had to drop out because I did not do well. But what a privilege it was! So Luba was earning and saving money. Annie was working in a dress shop, and earning and saving money. But this section is about Mendel; I will return to Luba and Annie later.

Mendel came to America with the family. He was an adventurer, and he liked the military. America was at war, and Mendel joined the army. After joining the military, he was disillusioned by it, and wanted “out”. He called his family from Ft. Schuyler (he was stationed near NYC) and asked them to buy him out. At that time, one could be discharged for the price of two hundred dollars. Luba and Annie pooled their funds, and got Mendel out of the army. He then chose to return to Russia, which by now was on the eve of the revolution. There he also joined the army, one of the few Jews to do so. In addition to his military bent, he was also politically connected, and he was dispatched by Russia to be the Russian consul or to work in the Russian consulate in Canton, China. By now he had married, and in Canton, he and his wife had their first child, our cousin Kant (named after Canton). Shortly after Kant’s birth, they returned to their homeland. Kant’s birth certificate, issued in China, gave Kant many problems during his lifetime. Mendel remained associated with the military, and during the second World War, was the first (and only?) Jewish Russian general. He did not return from the warApparently the visits from his relatives in America posed great problems for Kant because of the cold war; cousins who visited, unaware of the problems caused by their visits, were puzzled by the cold reception they sometimes received.

What happened to the oldest sibling, Moissaye? He remained in Odessa, and seems to have had little contact with Mendel and Mendel’s family. He too did not survive Stalin.

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11

Ben Chusid was first cousin to Annie and her siblings. His father was Zayda’s brother. Ben was very family oriented and family bound. He married Esther, who was equally family bound, and family hospitable.* His children were Annette, whom most of you know because she is bonded to the family, and Fred, whom some of you remember.

Ben and Esther lived on Mermaid Avenue in Coney Island, not far from Sea Gate. Ben worked in the garment industry, as a shop manager. They moved to Boerum Street probably because the rent was lower. Times were very bad. Unions were growing. And many shops left the city to avoid the unions. Ben’s boss moved to Pennsylvania, and offered Ben a management job there. Ben accepted, and he and his family moved to Martindale, PA in the Mennonite country. Ben insisted that the extended family come to visit him and taste life outside the big city. When I was 18, we drove to Martindale, and it was for us a trip into a strange country. The Mennonite girls sewed on the second floor of a hot, hot shop for twenty-five cents an hour. Some fainted from the heat, but they liked this better than the farm work they had been accustomed to doing. They enjoyed talking to us city-folk, and we enjoyed the glimpse they gave us of another world. “Tillie the Mennonite Maid” was my favorite reading matter for some time after that. In Martindale, they invited us to church: a first (and last) time experience for us. Manny, Eugene and I went. The family went back after the weekend, but I visited for one week, and I never forgot that visit.

Ben and Esther then moved on to Lancaster, and finally to York in search of a community with which they could bond. They found a Jewish community in York, and Annette met Jules Bernstein, a lovely man whom she married. They had three girls: Elayne, Marcia, and Nan—all NYC type people. If there is time later, I will tell you about the girls and their families.

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Baba’s maiden name was Krasnostein. In America, it was shortened by most to Stein. Two of Annie’s cousins were close to our family; Aaron and Moishe were frequent visitors. Aaron was married to Celia (pronounced Tselia), a common-law marriage. They were anarchists of a sort, opposed to government intrusion into their personal livesTselia was a short, slight woman, with the strength of all fighters for a cause: she marched in every May Day parade until she was past ninety. Scottsboro Boys, Tom Mooney, Father Divine, on and on.

Moishe and his wife Sadie lived on Thirteenth Avenue, with their children Abe and Miriam, who were both close to my age. Sadie was a corsetiere of the traditional kind: stays and pulling of laces. She was “Madam Sadie” on the second floor, above a store on Thirteenth Avenue. Her workshop was in her apartment, and she was highly regarded, and did well. Moishe, long before it became popular,

19

was the cook, housekeeper, and child care person in that household. They were both gentle people, and found their niche in the world of that time.

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13

Nathan. Nathan and Sonia were married in Russia. They came here, and bore a son, Murray (Moses Chusid) in 1912. Murray was six years older than me; he was the first grandchild in the family, and I was the second. The family adored Murray; they idolized him; they doted on him. And he was talented; he was musical, and culture for this family was “all”. Nathan was artistically inclined, and he earned a living as a sign painter. He was imaginative, and was one of the earliest to work on neon lighting for signs. He once described to Martin the fantastic array of signs that he would like to mount on Niagara Falls, given the opportunity.

In 1918, Nathan and Sonia lived in East Harlem, 110 East 98 Street. There I was born, although we did not live there---we lived nearby. After we moved to Brooklyn (our peregrinations will come later), they moved to Brooklyn too, as did Reva and Irving. Then Nathan and Sonia made their major and most important move to Manhattan: to 199 Second Avenue, near the Jade Mountain Restaurant, which is still there. They lived on the top floor there, and this became Manhattan Central for the whole family, and all of us children. Our big outings would be to take the subway to Manhattan, walk down 14th St to Second Avenue past all the vendors and the witches with claws in glass cases, walk down Fourth Avenue, studying all the book stalls of the second hand bookshops, and picking up travel flyers from the travel agency stored on Fourth Avenue between 13 and 14 Streets (not far from the Strand Book Store), and then drop up to Sonia’s and Nathan’s for a brief visit and a bite. Many times we would nibble at the food she had prepared for family dinner—but she never complained. At the book stalls, we might splurge on a book for five or ten cents; I never could get over the fact that Murray could and did spend twenty-five cents at a throw!

Came the second WW, and Murray joined the army. He was in an artillery company in the European Theater, and fortunately came home. Sonia resisted having both of her sons in the army. Manny, who was very musical as well, was persuaded to apply to medical school, and off he went to become a doctor, an outstanding pediatrician. He met Alta in Honesdale (?) early in his practice, and they married. Interestingly, Alta resembled Sonia in many ways. They finally settled in Mt. Vernon, in a lovely home with a brook in the back yard, where Manny practiced, with Alta assisting; later Manny retired from private practice and did fine work at Valhalla, Cornell Medical Center (?). Their children are Michael, Barbara and Nancy.

0-0-0-14

Let me talk about Paul now. His story is more brief. Paul was independent, imaginative, and sought new worlds to conquer. He traveled all over the United States on his various projects; He fancied himself a “medicine man” . and he had

20

designed an apparatus that he claimed could detect the source of any illness in the body. This apparatus was an ordinary ohmmeter, used by electricians. He had the “patient” hold one of the terminals of the ohmmeter while he moved the other terminal over the body of the “patient”. When he touched a spot that was bothering the subject, the anxiety of the “patient” was supposed to effect a change in resistance, which Paul could detect. Then with a solemn voice, he would render the verdict. He gave this meter to Martin, a “fellow scientist”, who still uses it to make various electrical measurements. Paul would appear from time to time to visit the family. I still remember the horror of that ride. Paul had many woman friends, of whom the most constant was red-headed Bella, with whom he consorted at Followers of the Trail, an idealist camp near Buchanan for free-thinkers. Bella became part of our extended family. She was lovely and loving to all of us. But Paul never married Bella. She finally made peace with herself by marrying a good man, Schweitzer. She continued to be in contact with the family, and we all considered Bella Schweitzer to be our aunt. Paul finally developed cancer of the liver, and died in Bellevue Hospital

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Joe was the youngest, and was quite young when he came to America. He was Americanized more easily and quickly than the others. He became a paint salesman. For a while, he shared a parlor floor apartment with Luba on Washington Square North, perhaps the Henry James apartment, and definitely one of the homes now owned by New York University. From selling paints, he rose to owning a paint manufacturing plant with a partner: the Hub Paint Company, in Long Island City. He did well financially, but was badly hurt during the stock market crash in 1929. He never invested in stocks after that. Interestingly the rest of the family did not lose in the crash, because they had nothing to lose. Joe then took a vacation trip to Russia, and there on the upper deck of a bus, he met a beautiful young woman, Florence Ross, who was to become his wife. When Joe returned to the states, and walked up the steps to the top floor of Nathan and Sonia’s home on Second Avenue, he was shocked by how small and crowded it was; it had never seemed that way to him before the trip.

Joe and Florence were married, and they gave birth to Linda (the same year the twins and Marlene were born), and Margo. Florence’s family was of German-Jewish stock*, and had emigrated earlier. Her father was a dentist. Joe and Florence remained in contact with the family through the years, but the bonds were not as close as those of Nathan and the sisters. When Pop closed his last paint store and sold its contents, Joe bought the brushes for far less than they had cost us. That was a lesson in entrepreneurial rules. One time, after a concert at Carnegie Hall, Joe invited me to join them for dinner at the Russian Tea Room. I could not enjoy the five dollar dinner, worrying about whether I was expected to pay that extravagant bill. Of course Joe paid.

Margo was incredibly lovable as a little child, and Linda was great as well. Joe was so proud of Linda’s intellect (she went to Sarah Lawrence College), and then Linda married Dan, who was in publishing. After three children, they

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separated. Linda then became interested in Iran, and married an Iranian, from whom she is now divorced. For a long time Linda lived in Hawaii; she is now in the Los Angeles area, teaching English to foreigners. I have not seen her in a long, long time. Margo married Tim Hayes, and they produced Rick Hayes, who is now a cardiologist at NYU Hospital. That marriage dissolved, and Margo now has a lovely shop in Sheffield, Massachusetts, where she restores and sells antique furniture, as well as beautiful handcrafts. She is still her lovely, loving self, and we see too little of her. She tells us that she is planning to leave the Berkshires, and settle in Sarasota.

Joe was most unhappy because his two daughters were estranged from each other. He retired from the paint factory to a place in Florida where Florence could indulge her artistic talent, and paint every day. This she did, and he played golf, golf, golf. When asked about the pleasures of retirement, he described his happy daily routine, and then advised, “DO NOT RETIRE.”

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As a child, I considered Luba to be a ravishing beauty. She was perfection, all that an aunt could be. She was single, and she had a job, so she did not have the economic worries that loomed over most of the family. But she cared about each one of us, she helped when she could, and she was always thoughtful. She brought me wonderful giftsShe moved in a world beyond ours: she took dance lessons (or a dance program) with Martha Graham, and introduced me to modern dance. Then she met Mac (Max), and spent some time with him at Followers of the Trail. We were all so happy for her. She and Mac married, and the wedding reception was a beautiful home-catered house party at Sonia/Nathan’s home on Second Avenue. All the sisters cooked; the food was delicious, plentiful and laid our beautifully. It was a lovely celebration, and it remained my ideal of a perfect wedding party.

Mac and Luba were very happy together. Mac was a college graduate! And furthermore, he was warm, friendly, and extremely intelligent. He was diligent, hard-working and extremely precise in his routines and his record-keeping. He worked at the post office, which was federal. Came the witchhunt, and Mac had to leave the post office. He was trained at college as a chemist, and, after the post office, worked for the city in the agency that set food-standards. He tested foods for the city,. For example, he sometimes tested “jello” powder that was submitted in gallon cans. These were ready for discard after a bit was examined; Mac brought home the discards, and we all had jello for years. Luba, in the meantime, relocated at work: she worked as a bookkeeper or clerk for the Board of Education at 110 Livingston Street. Mac/Luba continued to give me lovely gifts, particularly season tickets to the Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall, Saturday night series.

Mac’s mother, a sweet and kindly woman, stayed there too, with Manya. Mac’s mother was quite religious, and observed all the rituals, while Mac and Luba did not. Lenore and Shelly were thus exposed to religious practices at Shrub Oak.

Mac/Luba loved their place there. It needed a lot of work. The greater family was often invited to visit, and there would always be a schedule and tools for the work that needed doing by gracious guests. Mac/Luba tried for a long time to

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induce us to buy into the community. They assured us it was not expensive, and it was the way of the future. We never did get a country home there or elsewhere; it was not for our type of workaholics.

Shelly and Lenore were raised on schedule (not demand). They ate when the clock scheduled them to eat. Hanging in their room was a chart of each one’s toileting, eating, and what have you. Money was tight, and the budget had to be carefully laid out. Every evening, Mac would review the spending of the day, down to the last penny.

The girls grew to be bright and beautiful. Both of them earned Ph. D.’s. When she was in her mid-teens, Lenore had surgery (was it ear surgery or Bell’s Palsy?). She stayed with Martin and me to recuperate. Her parents did not have to take time off then. And then, at the age of 18, just before Jonah Salk produced his vaccine, Shelly contracted the worst kind of polio. It was hell for Shelly, hell for her parents, and hell for the whole family. I suppose there are different levels of hell, but this was unimaginable. Fortunately, Shelly survived.

When the twins were nine or ten, Martin and I were married. Martin was a chemist, also very bright, and also very knowledgeable. Luba took me under her wing and advised me on the little things that are important: the only tuna worth buying was Chicken of the Sea, and always use Uncle Ben’s long grain rice. To this day I follow that advice. Lenore married at quite a young age (a lovely wedding at a hotel—times had changed), and she bore a lovely daughter Laura. That marriage did not go well, and divorced ensued. Fortunately she met and married Bill Lloyd (Dr Bill) with whom she is now ensconced in that fabulous penthouse on Broadway and 107 Street. Lenore is a psychotherapist in private practice, teaches at the Gestalt school, and is now painting as a hobby. Laura is a writer.

Shelly is retiring from teaching and administration, and has made a notable contribution to teaching at the college level, as well as in basic education and working with the foreign born. In addition, she has published and edited publications in professional journals.

=0=0=0=

Sonia was ten years younger than Annie, but she did not like to discuss her age. She was forever young. She was proud of her dancing, of her singing, of her knowledge of French, and of her cultural pursuits in general. In addition, she was proud of her skill as a needleworker. She worked in an exclusive and costly dress factory, where her skill was valued, and where she was well paid. Sonia was a hard worker, and a perfectionist. She wanted everything to be just so. When we visited her in the Bronx in the apartment she and Luba shared for a short time, she made it very clear that the children were not to touch the walls, or the woodwork, or anything, because our hands were undoubtedly dirty. Sonia had a heart of gold, but she expressed her doubts, worries, concerns and complaints so openly and honestly that it was sometimes difficult to remember the heart of gold

After Luba was married, Sonia met Max Rosen, an active member of the Painter’s Union (Louis Weinstock was chief). Max, or Moissaye as we called him, was a self-taught and cultured man. Under different circumstances, he would have

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been a poet. A revolutionary poet. As it was, he was a revolutionary house painter, a great union man and labor leader. Moissaye had had a previous marriage, and had a daughter whom we never knew, but was and is known to Marlene. Moissaye and Sonia were married. The reception was held in Sonia/Nathan’s home, and was as lovely as Luba’s wedding reception had been.

Unions and labor leaders were not popular at the time. Employers hired thugs to break attempts at unionizing; the police used their clubs to support the thugs. Read labor history to get a full and vivid description of the times. Moissaye’s union work kept him traveling all over the country, and made him the object of physical attack again and again. Sonia was steadfast in her support and defense of him. For example, she could be counted on to hide him from the police.

In later years, Sonia ran the East Hill Farm and Hotel in the Catskills. I imagine that she and Moissaye bought the property. Sonia was in charge: she cooked, cleaned, and did everything needed to make her guests comfortable. The hotel had a limited capacity. The food was exquisite. Martin and I never had the opportunity to visit there, but other members of the family reported that it was the best hotel in the Catskills. After several years, Sonia acknowledged that it was too much work for her, and she retired.

Marlene (Malinka as Moissaye called her) married early, and was divorced soon after. Her soul was dedicated to poetic expression, and she then went to the U. of Iowa to study writing. There she met Michael Fine. They clicked! They were married, and Michael is now a solid member of the clan. They set up in a beautiful apartment on West End Avenue, and later acquired a country home in the Catskills. Their country home is handsome and comfortable, and they are wonderful hosts, as most family members have discovered. In 2001, they announced that they are returning to Marlene’s roots: they have a condominium in Brighton Beach, a short distance from the home in which Marlene was born and raised.

Marlene is still a poet. During the years, she has also been a gifted teacher of young children. Now she is working with Michael, who has established and developed a successful publishing business, which is doing well even now during the depressed period following September 11.

Marlene and Michael have two children, Kaethe and Antony. Both of them work with Michael in publishing, but have independent ancillary careers as well. Katya works in various aspects of theatre; she lives in a brownstone apartment in Ft. Greene in Brooklyn. Antony is a musician. He composes and leads his own group. He lives in Brooklyn next to Peter Luger’s Restaurant, with his wife Yael.

-0-0-0-Reva was the queen. She was outgoing, lovable, charming, friendly, generous

and a delight to spend time with. She married Irving Diamond (lucky man) and incorporated his family into ours: Ada (Irving’s sister) and her husband Lou Bogach, who sold insurance from door to door, and their children Lenore and Kenneth; and cousin Ida, Irving’s cousin and her “boy-friend” Morty who lived with her as well as with his wife. There was an older sister Becky, who lived on 50th Street, and Sarah, a confirmed vegetarian at a time when that was an oddity.

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Irving was artistic, and he made his living as a sign painter. He drew charcoal portraits of movie stars, which endeared him to me—many of which he generously gave me. I treasured them for many years. He etched beautiful portraits of Paul Robeson, and he fashioned silver jewelry, giving pieces of jewelry as gifts to the women in the family. Best of all, he sang. He sang the Jewish and Russian folksongs that were sung at home in Russia and in the Ukraine. No family get-together lacked music: Irving sang the songs, and Joe or Nathan (and perhaps even Irving) plucked at the mandolin to accompany him. He would sing, and lead us in singing. These are some of the songs that still sing in my memory: Mein Yiddishe Mama; Shein Vi Di Levone; Mein Shtetele Belz; Vos Is Geven is Geven, is Nisht Du; Rozhinkelech Mit Mandlen; Der Rebbe Elemelech, Tum Balalaika, and lots more.

The Diamonds lived in the Bronx for a short time; they also lived on Audubon Avenue near City College. Then they joined the Brooklyn contingent. They moved to Dahill Road, near Avenue P. Finally, they moved to the top floor at 221 Elmwood Avenue, where Pop and Mom had acquired an old farm house, and lived on the ground floor.

Abby went off to war (WW II) in the 101st Airborne Division. Charlie, the mailman, would ring the bell loud and clear when there was a letter from Abby; when there was no letter, Charlie would sneak away. During the war, Reva developed breast cancer, which was successfully treated. It did not trouble her again for many years.

Reva was a true Chusid. She used “Half and Half ”for coffee. It was a luxury that tasted good. She then launched an inquiry into “Half of What? And Half of What Else?” She hounded the dairies and the packers, to no avail. She and we never found out what Half and Half is.

Reva recovered after a devastating automobile accident on the Gowanus Expressway, after much surgery, particularly on a crushed jaw. She did well. Then, one day, Irving could not remember where he had parked their car. After further memory loss, it was discovered that he had a brain tumor, and required immediate, expensive surgery. Eventually, we lost Irving. Then Reva had a recurrence of her cancer; it had metastasized. She and Irving had now taken an apartment in the Wabasse Houses very near to Coney Island Hospital, where I worked. I visited her frequently as she lay in bed there. We would have nostalgic talks about our memories of the family, and we would also have lots of humorous gossipy chats: whether you-know-who was dyeing her hair, and whether Reva and I should dye ours, and what color. She treasured these visits, and yet was understanding of those who did not dare to visit her. Mimi Diamond took great care of Reva during this time, and, after Reva died, she was most helpful in settling matters.

Both of Abby’s and Mimi’s children (Ruth and Joe) are artistically talented. Joe has married Cherry, a warm and friendly young woman, and he is now teaching English as a second language in San Francisco.

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Myra attended Montauk Junior High School on 16 Avenue. There her teacher was Miss Fink, who also lived at Shrub Oak and was a counselor at Pioneer Camp. I must ask Myra what she thought of her as a teacher; patience, kindness and empathy were not her good features. Eventually she met Murray Rosenberg, a case worker whose values matched hers—and those of the family. Myra became a social worker, and worked with the aged, both in a nursing home and in a social agency. Murray wrote copy for advertisements and for organizations. He did it well.

She and Murray have three wonderful boys, two of whom are musicians. The visual artistry passed them by, but the musical talent emerged here. Dan, the oldest, is a historian/philosopher, a wonderful teacher and an excellent administrator. He is on the staff of Adelphi College in Long Island. Nora, his wife, is a social worker, having inherited Myra’s job when Myra retired from the agency where she worked with the geriatric population. Dan and Nora’s children are Gabriel and Celina. Jesse is Professor of Music at Northwestern University in Evanston; his wife Allesandra sings here and in Italy, and also teaches Italian in Evanston; their two children are a delight, and also musical. Fred teaches music in the NYC junior high schools in District 20, Brooklyn. He likes it, likes the children, and likes the regular paycheck. He also freelances, playing in musicals on Broadway, such as Les Miserables.

Myra did a superhuman job last year, helping Abby through the medical and bureaucratic problems of getting the best treatment possible for Mimi in her most pressing time of need. Murray was very supportive as well, as were the cousins. But Myra was an angel.

--0—0-0-I’ve left out a lot. But now I’m going to move on to my own story.

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16

THE BEGINNING OF MY STORY

Our home on Bay 38th Street was near the ocean, still a countrified part of the city, though it was near the elevated train that carried people to Coney Island at one end (not far from us), and to Manhattan at the other end. Ulmer Park, a private bathing community, was one block from us; Aunt Rose used to take us there on occasion. There was much empty space in the area: lots without buildings, but with lots of weeds, grass and wild flowers. One of our favorite occupations was to pick daisies and black-eyed susans—and make daisy chains for necklaces and headdresses. We would hold buttercups to our throats; if they reflected yellow, “she loved me”, if not, “she loved me not.” We would throw stickers at each other. And one of my favorite flowers were the “four o’clocks.” It was many years afterwards when I saw four o’clocks again; that was in China in 1978. For some reason, they had disappeared in the Brooklyn communities that I was familiar with. And we would tell time by blowing on the dandelion blossoms. This we still do. The Italian ladies picked dandelion greens to cook. The dandelions grew wild in these lots. Cattails too. There were as many beautiful butterflies as there were children. On occasion, we improvised nets to catch them.


On weekends, we would sometimes have outings to Coney Island with the whole extended family. The elevated train would carry us to the Stillwell Avenue station, and then the Norton Point trolley car would take us to the Bay 30’s, toward the western end of Coney Island. We would carry blankets to designate our turf, towels and bathing suits, dry clothes to change into, toy pails to play with in the sand—and tons of picnic food. When we could afford to, we would rent a large umbrella to provide some shade. This was very seldom. We never rented deck chairs that were available for relaxing, nor did we rent the lockers that were available for changing. We had a wonderful time at these outings. We also got beautiful sunburns every season.

Though every penny was difficult to earn, and had to be accounted for, Pop was a hard-working adventurer, and was ahead of his time. He needed a vehicle for his work, and also to be in tune with the times: he bought a Gardner Touring Convertible! It was the first car experienced by the whole family, as well as the whole community. It was very second-hand; be bought it for a few dollars, and eventually sold it to Murray for ten dollars. It was a thrilling buy. Pop loaded all the kids in the neighborhood into that convertible, with the hood down, and took us all for our first joy ride. He drove up Bath Avenue and down Benson Avenue (with no other vehicles around) at the incredible rate of twenty miles an hour! It was more exciting than the Cyclone in Coney Island! When, on hot summer evenings, we sat out in front of the house to cool off, Pop would sometimes take us on an outing: driving to Coney Island, down Surf Avenue and back home. This was our touring to see the sights—and it created a slight breeze to cool us off. We would also

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take very long trips in the car, to visit Grandma’s restaurant in Manhattan. And to visit Uncle Sam and Aunt Edis in Brownsville: driving through the country farms up Kings Highway to Howard Avenue to Pitkin Avenue.

17The Games We Played; How We Used Our Leisure Time

Let me take a detour at this point to tell you what games we played and how we passed our leisure time in those days.

There were fun things that we did out of doors, and others that we did indoors. There were few moving vehicles in the streets during our childhood, and so we could play in the streets. Furthermore, the summers were hot, and the coolest place to be was out of doors; our outdoor days were long.

Out of doors, we played stoop ball, and Ringalevio, and Red Rover, Red Rover, I Call Hymie Over! Hide and Seek was a popular game, though the hiding places were all well known. We played Potsie on the sidewalk, in several variations. We roamed the lots to pick the flowers and butterflies, and then made daisy chains. We helped Mom build a Maypole, and danced around it happily. That is how we celebrated May Day. At the beach, we built sand castles and dunked in the water. We played jacks on the stoop and indoors on the table.

When we were a bit older, we jumped rope. I never was well coordinated for rope jumping, and so it was an embarrassment to me. I would watch the other kids jump Double Dutch, and though they encouraged me to try it, I inevitably failed at the first jump.

Eugene got a used two-wheeled bike somewhere, and that was an enjoyable occupation for him. The Culver Theater opened at the corner of Gravesend Avenue and 18th, when we later moved to Gravesend Avenue. We could go to Saturday matinees there for 10 cents. Seldom could we afford that; but we could share the stories on endless walks around the block. Whoever went would tell the story, “And then.. and then.. and I forgot…” This was so much fun. The Perils of Pauline was one of the Saturday afternoon serial thrillers; we enjoyed sharing that as well. The afternoon admission price on weekdays was ten cents before five o’clock; after five, adult prices reigned. One day I got the bright idea of racing to the theatre, getting there by four-thirty, buying ten cent tickets for our gang, and then waiting for the rest of them to arrive. Their school schedules made it impossible to get there until five-fifteen. We then presented our tickets to the ticket-taker: it didn’t work!When we were grown, the movies needed patrons, and so on Tuesday nights they would give a dish to each patron. If one attended regularly, one could acquire a complete set of matching dishes! This was a valuable gift. Inevitably, at a tense or passionate moment in the film, someone in the audience would accidentally drop a dish, and everyone would shout “Bingo!”

Indoor activities were fun too. I embroidered; cross stitch embroidery was my forte—and I never left a piece unfinished. We played dominoes and we played cards: Rummy, Seven Up, Casino and even Poker, because Poker was the favorite of the adults.

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Mom helped us make dyes from beets (red), onions (yellow), and I don’t remember what gave us the other colors. With the dye, we dyed eggs. Newspaper folding was fun: we made hats and ships from newspaper. Mom sewed all our clothes, and she never threw out the remnants—the pieces she cut out and could not use. With those remnants I sewed doll clothes, though I had no doll until one day Pop brought home a broken doll that had been left in an apartment that he was painting. I waited, and am still waiting to this very day, for him to find another doll, perhaps not so broken with which I could play. He also brought home wallpaper books. We were proud to use them to cover our school books, while other kids had to use brown paper bags and newspapers. We also used the sample wallpaper for simple collage paste-ups. We made our own paste of starch and water.

Later, when we could read, reading was our favorite indoor activity, particularly on rainy days. We discovered the library and the St. Nicholas Magazine. That periodical had monthly contests for poetry, for puzzle solving, for whatever. One month, I won one of the prizes: five dollars. It was a windfall. From that day on, I never stopped nagging my two very capable brothers to help support the family by entering the contests and winning monies. I drove them crazy—and they stubbornly refused to participate in this method of family support! We read and read and read.

And we listened to the radio! By the time we lived on Gravesend Avenue, radio was a part of daily life. Remember that we had no television. John Gambling and the news on WOR helped start our day, as did Breakfast with the Fitzgeralds. And the evening serials kept us glued to the speaker: Witch’s Tale; The Spider Man, Mollie Goldberg, Amos and Andy, and that cafe Where the Elite Meet to Eat. We were there when Orson Welles announced that the men from Mars had landed in New York City; yet we were too stupid to attempt to run out of town.

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Our Cultural Life

Music was a big part of our family life. We owned a ”His Master’s Voice” Victrola (wind-up), with records of Enrico Caruso. We played them often. There was music at every family get-together, with Irving leading the singing, and uncle Joe playing the mandolin. We also had a piano. I could not conceive of a home without a piano; Murray tried his best to teach me how to play (50 cents a lesson), without success. We attended piano recitals, and music recitals—Murray’s and those of his friends, including Harvey Shapiro and Joe Goldberg. At all times, Sonia was ready to sing as well (Sonia Rosen, that is). As a matter of fact, when I was grown, Mac and Luba presented me with Saturday night series tickets to the NY Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall, several seasons in a row. I became familiar with the sleeping habits of some of my neighbors in the top balcony.

Our family friends (the Greenblatts) owned a candy store on Bay Parkway just east of 86th Street (near the subway station). Greenie (the husband) read poetry beautifully, and we attended many of his readings in his beautiful Jewish exposition. It was a pleasure to listen to him, young as we were.

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The Yiddish theatre was one of our great loves. On occasion, the family would visit one of the theaters on Second Avenue (the National, the Second Avenue Theatre, or one of the others), and suffer through a tear-jerker in which every move was obvious and good triumphed over evil. We saw Maurice Schwartz, and watched him grow old, and we enjoyed Molly Picon. We may have seen Paul Muni and Jules Garfield. I am not sure.

We graduated to theatre in English. First there was Walter Davenport’s Free Theater in a small house with a balcony in the East Twenties. The sets were primitive, and they trembled when an actor strode across the stage or shouted. Props were minimal as well, as were the costumes. Davenport wore a toga. The acting was glorious, and the audience’s imagination filled in the sets, props and costumes. Davenport led an after-theater discussion of the play and his mission in the theater world, concluding with a hat passed around for contributions. We were happy to contribute our nickels and dimes, as was the rest of the audience.

Later, we could sometimes afford to stop at Gray’s ticket office in Times Square to buy discounted seats for theatre on Broadway. We could purchase fifty cent balcony seats. When we did not have the fifty cents, we found that if we hung around the theater of our choice until the audience came out for a smoke during the first intermission, we could then mingle with the crowd, and walk in to see the rest of the play. There were usually lots of empty seats. Most plays had three-acts, with two intermissions. After many shows, there were discussions in which the playwrights participated, as well as the actors and the audience. Theater and social consciousness, art and society, impact of theater on the conscience of the individual, and much more was discussed.

The dance. Luba studied with Martha Graham’s modern dance group—and thus I was exposed to the dance. I also read every word published about Nijinsky, and became familiar with the world of dance through my interest in Nijinsky’s life and career.

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The Foods We Ate

We are what we eat. Our culture is defined in many ways and in most cases by the foods we learned to love and/or reject as we grew up. My family came from the Ukraine, on the Black Sea, and close to the Mediterranian. The women (Grandmothers and Mothers) fed large families on tiny budgets. They learned to make the most out of “practically nothing.” Though they did not keep kosher kitchens, they did not serve pork or shellfish, and used produce and foods that were easily available in the public markets.

Our main meal, dinner was midday, what we now call lunchtime. We had supper when Pop came home from work, usually between five and six, and sometimes even earlier, at four-thirty. Over the years, as we became Americanized, the evening meal became our dinner, our main meal. But we continued to eat early, usually at six. These are the foods that I remember, with comments about some of them. They are listed in random order.

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Gefilte fish: Mom made gefilte fish often, once a week if she was not too busy at the store. She bought and scaled the fish, and then chopped it by hand in the wooden chopping bowl. Sometimes she cooked the fish patties on top of the stove; other times she baked the gefilte fish. The baked patties were wrapped in fish skin; they were dry and delicious.

Chopped liver: When we could afford it, this would be chopped chicken liver. It was always great.

GrapefruitChallah: Mom seldom baked challah, but she was able to do it for special

occasions. Fortunately, we had many good Jewish bakeries nearby that did not overcharge for challah, good seeded rye bread, and corn bread.

Sponge Cake: Mom would whip up a sponge cake whenever the extended family came to eat with us. It was easy—for her. Reva whipped up a surprise strawberry shortcake for my birthday (15th I think), and hid it in the closet with the Lifebuoy Soap.The whipped cream, of course, tasted like Lifebuoy Soap. What a disappointment!

Breaded Veal Cutlets: These were so good: bone in, dipped in eggs and bread crumbs, and baked.

Stuffed Cabbage: This was my favorite: sweet and sour stuffed cabbage. Because I loved it so, Reva once made it as a surprise for my 16th birthday. By chance, she showered it with hot red pepper, which she mistook for paprika. Too bad..

Stuffed Pepper: Almost, but not quite as much a favorite of mine as stuffed cabbage.

Stuffed Breast of Veal: This was a triumph of woman over economy! Breast of Veal was so inexpensive. The stuffing was a work of art, and the result was the most elegant main dish that cost practically nothing. Mom could have baked stuffed cardboard, and made it taste good.

Chicken Soup: A chicken and a bundle of soup-greens. The soup was great, and so was the chicken. Interestingly, one small chicken was always enough for five of us. Mom ate the “mother” parts: the neck, the feet, the pupick, and the liver, and proclaimed them to be enough. A small chicken was called a “spring” chicken at the time; usually the tough older chickens were used for chicken soup.

Split Pea Soup: An old stand-by. Split peas, barley, onions, carrots, celery. What could be bad?

Stewed Chicken: Chicken Fricasee. Again onions, carrots, celery.Onions, carrots, celery were the staples for cooking magic.Garden Vegetable Soup: The staples above, plus fresh peas. After we shelled the

peas, we strung the pea shells together with a needle and white cotton thread, and immersed that in the cooking soup, removing it when the soup was done. A spring delight, light and tasty.

Beef zharkoye (stringy meat): I loved this beef stew. It was the first meal I cooked for Martin and me, after we were married. I cooked it, with the phone to my ear, following Mom’s instructions.

Meat loaf: We had this often.Meat balls: Meat balls with gravy.

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Knishes: Mom was the Knish Queen of America. She made the most wonderful knishes, and generously made them for parties, celebrations, and union events. Everyone loved them. She taught Leon, Deb and David how to make them too. Mostly she made potato knishes; sometimes cheese.

Kashe Varnishkes: Great. Self-explanatory.Raw eggs, punch pin hole in end: Eggs were considered healthy. And essential

for a good diet. We, particularly Eugene, resisted them. She tried many novel approaches to persuading us to eat eggs. The most novel that I remember was to punch a hole with a needle in the end of the shell of a raw egg, and then to suck the egg out of the shell. It was a challenge!

Mamelege: I hated it. Now it is the very popular Polenta, and I don’t hate it any more—but I don’t particularly care for it.

Pickled fish: Wonderful.Calve’s feet; pizzia; holodietz: A secret no-cost dish that I loved.Sunday night: herring, boiled potatoes: This was the traditional Sunday night

meal, particularly when we had guests. On the table would also be bowls of nuts and hard candies.

Cheeses: Cream cheese, Munster, Domestic Swiss and Imported Swiss. Those were our cheeses. Cream cheese came in a wooden box, about 12 inches long and 3 or 4 inches high and wide. The grocer would spoon the cheese out of the box when we wanted to purchase it.

Borscht, Schav: This did not come in jars. It was home made. The borscht with beef in it was particularly delicious.

Cole Slaw: Mom was expert at making a delicious cole slaw with vinegar, sugar, salt, and a drop of mayo. This was her only recipe with mayo.

Liver: fried, broiledNever buy chopped meat was the rule. Don’t trust the butcher to have cleaned

the meat grinder, or to cheapen the cuts of meat you have paid for.Dressing a chicken; chicken flicker: Most of the time we bought the chicken,

feathers and all—and “dressed” it ourselves, at home. We burned the feathers off, and carved and gutted the chicken, being careful not to split the gall, because the taste of that would contaminate the chicken. When we were flush, we would have the “chicken-flicker” who worked at the back of the butcher store, clean and dress the chicken for us; we would tip him a nickel or a dime for the service. Our chicken-flicker was a pleasant man who chatted with all the women waiting for his service; he had a hare-lip, and was reputed to be as rich as Croesus, because he had a steady trade, despite the poverty surrounding the community.

Scaling the fish: Sheepshead Bay: we scaled the fish, usually in the back yard, spreading newspapers on a makeshift table, and placing the fish on the newspaper. Whenever possible, Pop would drive us to Sheepshead Bay to buy the fresh fish from the fishermen as they came in on their ships in the late afternoon. The fish was fresh and at bargain prices.

Pomegranates, yesBroccoli, no. This was unknown, as was asparagus and so many of the

vegetables we see now.Lettuce: only iceberg was known to us.

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Chick peas, nahit, arbis: Mom boiled the dry beans, dried them, and salt and peppered them. Sometimes she made sweet nahit: simmering them with sugar.

Chumus was unknown to us, as was baba ganoush. Mom made an eggplant salad that I did not take to, so I can’t describe it.Salad dressing: unknown. I discovered salad dressing when I went to college,

and shared the discovery with Mom. She could not quite understand it.Nuts, yes; candies in bowls, yes.Milk: At first we would carry a tin bucket to the grocery-dairy, and he would

pour milk from his big bucket into our tin bucket. When this was not convenient, we had the milk delivered. The milk man would place quart bottles of milk in our milk box on the porch or outside our door. Milk was not homogenized in those days. The cream would rise to the top, and in cold weather, it would rise above the top level of the milk bottles. On our front porch, we still have the milk box in which milk was delivered when I had young children.

Breakfasts: Oatmeal (with evaporated milk), French toast, matzoh brei, Wheatena, Farina. Pop specialized in making oatmeal, especially for Miriam.

Evaporated milk was a staple. We used it for coffee and cereals until long after we were married.

Bread was delivered by the Dugan’s wagon that roamed the streets to sell bread and muffins; a vegetable wagon also roamed the streets. We seldom bought from them.

Spinach, fresh peas, string beans, potatoes, kasha, rice. These we had. We shelled the peas. The string beans really were string beans; we had to cut the ends and remove the strings. We scraped carrots with a knife. When the ten-cent carrot peeler was invented, we were cautioned not to use it because it removed all the healthful skin of the carrot. It did not take long for us to yield on that point.

Carrying the bags of food from 13 Avenue: I would walk to 13 Avenue from Gravesend Avenue with Mom’s shopping list, and carry home the meat, produce, and dairy products in a brown shopping bag. I was still a little girl, and the strings on the bag would hurt my hands so; I still remember how hard it was to carry it home.

The food was stored at home in an ice box. The refrigerator was unknown. The ice box had a pan underneath it to catch the drippings. Eugene would carry the ice for us from the Rubens Coal and Ice Company on Dahill Road, when we lived near them. Before that, it had to be delivered by the ice man. We also had a window ice box that stored extra food in the winter. Storage capacity was quite limited; that was why, when we had family gatherings, every family would take home leftovers, because we had no place to keep them.

I must tell you about the Famous Restaurant on 86 Street. Mom cooked every meal. She worked very hard. Once in a great while, Pop would take us all out to the Famous on 86 Street. We would eat something very simple; it was really a cafeteria. There I discovered the club sandwich (three slices of bread with fillings between each of the two sets of slices). This was extraordinary luxury for us.

Talking about the milk man and the Dugan’s truck reminds me of the “I Cash Clothes” man who would ride by and call out his song, and the Scissors Sharpener who did the same.

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Furniture and EquipmentStandard furniture in our home included a kitchen table and chairs, a day

bed (which was a pull-out bed for two singles, now called a sofa-bed), a folding bed, an ice box, a window box, and a sewing machine. And a piano. These were our necessities. Everything else was luxury, built by Eugene or Pop or a refinished hand-me-down, or custom-made by a place like Gothic Furniture, who built us a small bookcase for four dollars. By that time, we considered ourselves affluent.

When Martin and I visited homes in China in 1978, we saw in every home that we entered the same Singer sewing machine that we had in our homes as children. We understood those sewing machines. When we got married, I went wild looking for Singer machines because I could not conceive of a home without them, though sewing was not one of my skills. If you need an antique Singer machine, see me. 21

Our Health and Health Problems.

I was healthy. On admission to Brooklyn College, the medical examiner lined up all the new girls and went from one to the next with a stethoscope. She pulled me out of line, announcing that I had a murmur, and must bring a note from the doctor. Heartbreak at home! We went to see Dr. Lewis, who found no murmur, and gave me the required note. One half century later, Dr. Fox, Chief of Cardiology at NYU Hospital, heard a murmur again, and diagnosed a congenital case of IHSS: Idiopathic Hypertrophic Subaortic Stenosis. Fancy, isn’t it? Not life threatening. So that beltline doctor at Brooklyn College might have been correct.

We have all led healthy lives until age started to creep up on us. I will spare you our recent discomforts. You probably know about them anyway.

22Back to the Story of My Life

My first language was Yiddish. My parents and grandparents spoke Yiddish at home, and Russian when they did not want us to understand. I learned English on the streets and at school.

I was with Miss Murphy in the 1A and 1B; classes were the length of semesters then—two semesters a year. School admissions were semi-annual. By the end of the year, my parents decided that economic survival rested on opening another retail store (this time a paint store) so that Mom could mind the store while Pop went out on painting and contracting jobs. They found a store on Stillwell Avenue, near Harway Avenue, with an apartment at the back, and set up shop there. Mom took me to register at P.S. 97, down the block from our new store. The principal interviewed and tested me informally. She then told Mom that if, over the summer, I could learn to do long division, she would place me in the 2B class; I

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would then skip 2A. Skipping was an economy device for the Board of Education; if they got the child out of school quickly, it would cost them less to educate that child. Mom taught me long division, and I skipped that time and five times more in the course of my schooling, so that I was later graduated from high school at the age of fifteen. But Mom taught me long division the European way, not the way it was done at school, and I had a lot of trouble relearning it. After school, I went to the Sholem Aleichem Kinderschule on 82 Street between Bay Parkway and 21st Avenue. An older child was assigned to take me there and home. Here we learned our cultural heritage: history, celebration of the holidays, songs and literature. There was no religious instruction here. We learned to read and write in Yiddish: the first page of our reader, at the right, taught the sound of the letter “a”. A, a, a, a, zugt die mama. (In Yiddish orthography). Unfortunately, my formal Yiddish education stopped when we moved to Gravesend Avenue, which was too far from the Schule.

At P.S. 97, the left-backs and the “dumb” kids sat at the back of the room, wearing dunce caps. I never dared to turn around to look at them

That year my grandmother died too. We had to close the store so that we could go to the funeral. I was eight years old. Pop asked me to help spell the sign that he wanted to post in the window. He could not accept my spelling of the word “death”, and so he stopped a stranger passing in the street and asked him how to spell the word “dett” (as Pop pronounced it); the friendly gentleman complied: “d e b t”, said he. Pop posted the awful sign in the window: “Closed on Account of Debt in the Family.”

That store was only modestly successful. We then moved to 1206 Gravesend Avenue (now named McDonald Avenue), a few doors from Avenue J. There I had a very rich street education, and my schooling was transferred to P.S. 134, at 18th Avenue and East 4th Street, where Mrs. Barr was my teacher. That was the 5A. Don’t ask me what happened to the classes in-between. Mrs. Barr and I had a mutual love affair. I was the monitor for lots of things; I was well-behaved and learned quickly. I skipped the 5B, and consequently missed a great part of my academic education.

Miss Edes was the 6th Grade Teacher; she was a witch, and I dreaded being promoted into her class. I persuaded Mom to go up to the principal, Mr. Maury, and request another sixth grade teacher for me. This was unheard of. Mr. Maury told Miss Edes, and also placed me in her class. In her class, I had my first school failures. The 6B teacher was the one to recommend children for the rapid advance classes in the junior high school (P.S. 134 was a sixth grade school). She said I was not capable enough for the Rapid Advance class, and referred me to the slower classes. Mrs. Barr raised the roof, worked up a campaign, and I was promoted, though with failing grades, to the Rapid Advance Class at Montauk Junior High School (16th Avenue and 39th Street), where Leo Auerbach again was in the same class (and still did not evidence the brilliance that he displayed later in life).

Two interesting points about P.S. 134: the auditorium on the top floor was created by rolling the panels that separated the six classrooms on that floor. The panels were rolled aside for assemblies and for music class. The music class consisted of a Victrola playing shellac records of classic arias and other pieces,

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having us memorize the titles, and then testing us. The test required that we name the piece being played, such as La Donne Mobile.

Our home at 1206 Gravesend Avenue (again a store with rooms behind it) introduced me to a completely new world. Let me say that the rooms behind the stores consisted of a kitchen, a bathroom, a dining/living room (small) and two bedrooms, one for my parents, and one for two of us children. The third slept on the couch in the living room. We always had an “ufshtel” bed (a metal folding bed) for company.

On the other side of our store was a Greek grocery, owned by the family Moyssiadis, whose clan occupied many of the shops and homes right there. Even the ice cream factory across the street had Greek elements. Only Bohacks down the street had no ethnic element. Argie Moyssiadis was my age, and her sister Julia was several years older. They were warm and open, and undertook to educate me, though in a relaxed way. We shared each other’s homes. Julia produced a curling iron to curl my hair. Argie and I experimented with cooking. We baked, washed dishes, cleaned the sink. And best of all, we read. They had a trove of magazines that I would never have discovered: True Romances, True Stories, and others with similar titles. That’s how I found out about life: he loved me, he left me, boo-hoo; he told me he loved me, but I discovered lipstick on his collar. These stories made a deep impression on me, but I can’t even remember any of the details—only the themes, as described above.Academics were not their goals; but Argie and Julia were prepared for woman’s role in the world, and they were content. I lost track of them, but I remember them with great warmth.

23In-between were we. Pop needed a car for his business. The installment plan

set our standard of living. The Gardner had long since gone to Murray. We bought a Chevrolet (new) for $766! On the installment plan. Salesmen used to come from door to door regularly. Mom, persuaded by our need to learn, bought the 20 volume Book of Knowledge, which we loved. We all respected it as an encyclopedia, which it is not. It was her best purchase; it still resides in the family, and we have since purchased another copy at a book fair. She also ordered magazines, paying 50 cents a week, for a one year subscription. We were then enriched by the Saturday Evening Post, the National Geographic, Popular Mechanics and several other periodicals. The beauty of those subscriptions for us was that after the year expired, the magazines continued to come; they were so short of subscribers that it was to their advantage to continue supplying their old ones. Remember that the advertisers always wanted to know how many subscribers they had. They still do.

Our newspaper was The World. On Sundays they had a beautiful rotogravure section with full page ads in sepia for Coty cosmetics.

And from that home, with our thirst for things to read, we discovered the Kensington Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library. It was in a double storefront on

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Gravesend Avenue near Ditmas Avenue. Eugene and I would walk there to borrow books, determined to read every book from A to Z. Leon was not yet a reader.

Pop looked for broader fields to conquer. We moved our store to 766 Gravesend Avenue, just off Ditmas. This time we had only a kitchen behind the store—no living quarters. We had graduated to an apartment away from the store.

Our first apartment was caton-corner across the street, above a bar at the corner of Gravesend and Ditmas. We lived in the second floor corner apartment there for quite a while, even though the water from the sewer would back up into our sink and bathtub. They gave us three months of concession, and then the owner disappeared. He may have gone bankrupt, but no one came to collect the rent for about a year. That was an unexpected bonus. When they finally came, Pop arranged a settlement with them for a much smaller sum than he would have had to pay at $40 a month. Then we moved to the corner apartment above the store at Dahill Road and Ditmas Avenue. This was not too bad. But we were on the upward roll. We then moved to the lower floor of a two family semi-detached house on 42nd Street, just off Dahill Road; here we had our rent lowered because we took the responsibility for stoking the coal into the burner, and keeping the house warm; this was Eugene’s job, and he did it well. Our next move was to the top floor (walk-up) apartment in the middle class apartment house at 490 Ocean Parkway, at the corner of Ditmas Avenue. From our windows we could see Gravesend Avenue.

24. I chose to go to a new school that had just been opened: Abraham

Lincoln High School, so that I could help build its climate and reputation. Arthur Miller chose the same school at approximately the same time. He did help build its reputation. I kept a low profile at school. One of my good friends said to me, “I just saw the list of new Arista students, and Lillie Bellin was on the list, but it couldn’t be you.” My Intermediate Algebra teacher came out to announce our grades on the Regents exam. “Who is this Lillie Bellin?” he said. I raised my hand. In great surprise, he said, “Did you know that you got 100 on this exam?” I enjoyed my extracurricular service in the Dean’s office; they liked my work enormously. They felt that they could rely on me. My weakest subject was Latin. I had two unusual Latin teachers. The first was Mary McDowell, a Quaker lady who was a weak teacher, but an impassioned war resister. She had gone to prison as a war resister during the first World War. The second was a marvelous teacher whose name I can’t remember, but who could not undo the harm that my earlier Latin teachers had done.

25Two decades ago, when I helped the Quakers set up their school for learning

disabled children, and they did not know what to name the school, I suggested that they name it after Mary McDowell. This they did, and I am glad.

My high school and college years were politically charged: Mussolini was bombing Ethiopia, Hitler was building his forces, unemployment was very high, unions were organizing, and social welfare benefits were unknown. I was unable to

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avoid thinking about these issues, and getting involved when it seemed that I could be helpful.

Despite the fact that money and survival were constant issues, we never felt poor, hungry or deprived. We really did not know how the other half lived, nor did we think about it, or care.

26How I Spent My Summers

We did not know of camp, nor did we go to camp. From birth through my junior high school years, our summers were spent at home, pretty much as I described earlier—hanging out. We read, we played outdoors, I embroidered, I ordered my brothers around, we listened to the radio, and would go for a ride with our parents. We would visit family, or drive through Coney Island; on several occasions, we would drive to look at the Hoovervilles from a distance—the tin shacks that poor families set up in empty lots; we were as detached from these as from the homes of the wealthy.

When I entered high school, I felt that my summers had to be productive. I was no longer a child.

One summer I studied French independently, took a final exam, and earned credit for the course

One summer I studied Gregg stenography, with an eye towards acquiring a marketable skill.

One summer I studied a type of shorthand that was based on condensing the letters of the alphabet; it worked, though it was not as speedy as Gregg

One summer I worked as a substitute librarian at various branches of the Brooklyn Public Library

One summer I was appointed as a file clerk from a Civil Service List. I needed the job and the money desperately, but it was so hot and so boring that I decided I’d rather starve than stay there.

One summer I got a job as a bookkeeper at a plant on Third Avenue that peeled and sliced apples, and then shipped them to the California Pie Company (also in Brooklyn) to make pies. The Polish women who peeled and cored the apples earned 25 cents an hour, while I got $18 a week. They were docked if they took time off because they could not stand the heat; I was not docked. It wasn’t fair.

One summer I was bookkeeper at Camp Arrowhead, near Ellenville, where I made many friends. Sam Levinson came to entertain. It was a warm and friendly environment.

And one summer I was bookkeeper at Horseshoe Lake Ranch, a dude ranch, at Tupper Lake in upstate New York. There I made friends with a guest named Lency (Florence), who insisted that I meet another friend of hers with whom she was sure I would be compatible. It was Muriel Goldring. At the ranch, the boss was so pleased with my work that he gave me a signed check at the end of the season, telling me to

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fill in the amount that I wanted to be paid. I only had the nerve to write the check for $200.

27Telephones

Telephones were a luxury for most, and a necessity for us. Papa was a contractor now, and the phone was necessary for dealing with customers. Our number was Bensonhurst Ten-O-Three-Four. The instrument was a French phone on a long stem, with the earpiece on a hook to the left of the stem. When we picked up the phone, the operator answered, “Number, please.” We told her the number we were calling, and Voila!, we were connected. Grandma could not negotiate a call, because the telephone company was not interested in ethnic entanglements. When I was six years old, I asked why the phone company did not employ Jewish operators. That was the $64 question. As a matter of fact, years later, when I was teaching black students, the phone company said they could not hire them because their arms were too short to handle the switchboards at the time!

Phone calls cost five cents. Making a call was a major investment. Every call required making a significant decision: to call or to write or to wait. Do you believe it? You better believe it!

When I finally taught in the high schools, most of my students in the business programs had never made a phone call in their lives. I spent many hours teaching them this amazing skill, and having them practice with a real instrument in their hands.vv

28Back to My Story

766 Gravesend Avenue provided a completely different social environment, perhaps because I was a bit older, and perhaps because it reached out to a different mix of people. Pop set up our paint store just short of Ditmas Avenue. On the far side of Ditmas was a long-established store: Larsen’s. Pop felt that if that neighborhood supported one paint store, it undoubtedly could support two. I don’t think Larsen agreed, but he had no say in the matter. Just beyond Larsen’s, was the railroad cut/siding where the trolley tracks permitted a turn-around, and the elevated trains turned to go to 36th Street, which was a major station for connecting with our Culver Line. Under that turn, the Italian men played Bocci Ball all the time. They loved it. For us, it was part of the scene. There was also a tin shack at that spot, inhabited by a short black man with scoliosis, on a battered bicycle, who painted and did minor contracting jobs. He had stationery and a sign that proclaimed:

Jake T. DillardNew York, Paris, London

He prided himself on the quality of his presentation, and soon discovered that I was literate, had a typewriter, and was willing to work for money. He employed me as

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his secretary for typing contracts and such at 25 cents per page. Of course, I would have done this for nothing. I never got rich, but he was happy.

Our neighbors were memorable. Next door, at the foot of the steps to the elevated train station, was the Arian family, running a candy store of the kind we no longer see.

One morning we found that someone had drilled through our safety door in our store in an effort to rob us. Mom had not yet come down. Elliot sat high on the counter observing our worries, and we cautioned him not to tell Mom what had happened. He was a cooperative child. When Mom walked in, he said, “Mrs. Bellin, nobody tried to rob your store last night.”

Down the block lived the Lella family. One or more members of that family was always up in Sing Sing. They trained their children very early for their occupations-to-be. The tiny two year olds would run down the block to the Arian newsstand, reach up, snatch the pennies, and run back down the block to safety in their own turf. When a member of this family walked into our paint store and told Mom that he wanted that five-gallon can of paint, she did not argue.

.There was Selma Trachtenberg, who insisted that the road to happiness lay

in playing bridge, and so she tried her best to teach me. No go. There was Eugene’s friend Jack, who survived by selling bananas from a pushcart in front of the candy store; he showed us how he enhanced his earnings by pasting the face of a 12 pound scale on a 10 pounder. When the weight showed six pounds, and the customer paid for 6 pounds, he was receiving only 5 pounds. So there. Those were the times.

We all had a lot of friends in the neighborhood, and we shared them. They were school friends, neighborhood buddies, and friends critical of the way our country was going, all looking for work and sharing tales of hardship.

. And I joined the group as well. Lots of talk, lots of walk, and lots of fun. We would walk to the park, hear the Goldman Band, with Edwin Franco Goldman conducting, and walk and talk more.

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Eugene, Leon and I helped Mom and Pop in the store. Leon “minded” the store; Eugene made deliveries, hoisted cans onto the shelves and into the cellar, and biked to the bank to make deposits, even after 3 PM when the bank doors were closed, but the cooperative manager would open the back door so that Pop’s account could cover the checks he had drawn against it. Sometimes the deposits were checks that Pop’s friend Greenblatt, who also had no funds, would give him to cover his account, and would then be withdrawn immediately so that Greenie would not be embarrassed. Pop never declared bankruptcy. It was against his principles.

I had several jobs: since I was hoping to be a newspaperwoman, I got up a newsletter (early mail order) announcing our sales and discounts to be mailed out to would-be customers. This was reproduced on a Rexograph, which was a gelatin pad, and the lettering was light purple. It served its purpose. I was also the one who answered the phone when creditors called (Benjamin Moore and Company, MJ

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Merkin, for example), and told them that we had mailed our check to them “yesterday” and that it would arrive shortly.

In those years, Beats All was a popular cleaning powder, consisting of tri-sodium phosphate (TSP). Pop bought 100 pound bags of TSP; we bagged them in one pound brown bags, and labeled them Bells All. They sold well.

30On to High School—And College

. My two and one half years at Lincoln were largely undistinguished. My profile was low; some of my grades were good, some were excellent. My service was in the Dean’s office, where they appreciated my competence. My social life was more or less nil. I did not attend the Senior Prom, because I had no one to invite. I was not able to break into the school newspaper clique. I did write a muckraking article on William Randolph Hearst for the school magazine. To my delight, it was accepted for publication. Later, however, the editor visited me and explained that unfortunately they were unable to publish it. So much for muckraking in the mid thirties.

My mother urged me to study Latin so that I could be prepared to become a doctor, if I wished. She also assured me many times that I could be anything I wanted—even President of the United States. She failed on both counts.

My father, on the other hand, was more practical and relevant. He urged me to select Chemistry as my science subject. He maintained “Chemistry is your future!” I did study Chemistry, and, as he predicted, Chemistry was my future.

I was graduated from Lincoln HS in June of 1933, and went on to study at Brooklyn College, which was situated in five or six office buildings in downtown Brooklyn: Fulton Street, Court Street, Willoughby Street and thereabouts. This was the most exciting period in my educational history. I studied the catalogs incessantly, and could not figure out how to major in everything I was interested in: English, Mathematics, Philosophy, Modern Languages—you name it!

Every class was exciting. Our English professor (Mr. Meagher?) conveyed to all of us his love and enthusiasm for the poets of the nineteenth century. Our Philosophy teacher, Prof. Pomerance, whom I was to get to know well many years later, had us all hopping on every aspect of philosophy. My hand was always in the air, participating in every discussion—mathematical, cultural and philosophical.Best of all, I was on the staff of the school newspaper: The Spotlight. I was a staff reporter, sent out on stories. One assignment was to interview Dr. Bernard Grebanier, who had just testified about colleagues to the Rapp Coudert Committee, which was trying to purge the colleges of communists and union people. Grebanier refused to be interviewed—so that was a short story. Becoming a reporter was my dream; one day I would travel round the world, reporting events for the press. To my knowledge, there were no woman reporters.

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World events were impacting on the college campus. Hitler was gaining strength, Japan was importing steel from our Third Avenue elevated line, Mussolini was conquering in Africa, and shantytowns were around us everywhere, as were unemployed men selling apples. College students wanted a new and better world, and organized student groups to move towards that new and better world. With a campus on Fulton Street, it was not possible to avoid facing these problems.

I was eligible for work with the NYA—the National Youth Administration. I was scheduled to work thirty hours a month for fifteen dollars, certainly enough to carry me through college, and contribute to the support of the family. At first, I was assigned to type a manuscript for an Economics professor: carbon paper, several copies, and totally uninteresting. I was shortly reassigned to assist at the Kensington Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library, directly across the street from our store near the corner of Ditmas Avenue. There could be no happier assignment. The head librarian was a small, skinny, grouchy old librarian, Miss McIntyre, who delighted in shushing everyone, and, at 8 PM., in expelling all children under the age of 16, leaving the library available only to adults until 9 PM, closing time. I was little more than 15 when I got the job. She would throw me out on the days I came in as a reader, but she was quite satisfied to have me work until 9 on the days when I was scheduled to put in my NYA time. What joy to sit at the desk and have first choice of books being returned! They liked my work, and shortly began to recommend me for work as a substitute librarian at the same rate of pay to other branches. I became a regular worker at the Park Slope Branch, down the block from where Miriam lives, and at the Sheepshead Bay Branch, where the Portuguese fishermen still sat on milk crates near the train station that was near the farms along Sheepshead Bay Road.

I have always been a worrier and a planner. I knew that I was in college because a fifteen year old girl could not get employment then; I would have to train to be employable by the time I got my degree. Employability was incompatible with majoring in math, philosophy, English etc. My best bet was to train in the business subjects, to teach them in the secondary schools. Failing that, I would have marketable skills for business employment, if they would hire Jews. City College offered a major in business subjects, but they would not accept women for their day program. I could apply there for their evening program. Hunter College at that moment had developed a major in business subjects for women, and their first class had just been admitted. Hunter accepted me with open arms as a transfer student.I transferred to Hunter, Bronx campus, and found there a dull and different world.

The students in the Business Program at Hunter were upper West Side girls, interested in the NYU men who got off the train at Fordham Road, and completely disinterested and unprepared for our college program. The college set up rigid and weird requirements: they insisted that I study Business Arithmetic, where one learned to add a column of numbers quickly (which I already knew how to do), despite the fact that I had earned A’s in Advanced Algebra at Brooklyn College.

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I had no stimulating, thought provoking instructors or classes. My major work was in tutoring my fellow students in the basic elements of accounting and what have you. The Economics class, which had a live potential, was a complete dud. My fellow students included me as one of the gang; they were nice to me, and they appreciated the help I gave them. They never understood how different they were from me, and that there was a world out there beyond us. In a way, it was like a sorority in a school. Peggy Hein was the daughter of the principal of Monroe HS. When she was not prepared for an exam, she would stage, with several of the others, a scene in which a telegram was delivered to her during the first five minutes of the exam. She would cry hysterically, say she had to leave, and break up the exam.Pauline Merovitz broke up an exam by using a window pole, accidentally breaking the lights in the classroom. Sophomorish, through the senior year.

My grades were very good, except in the subject called Business Machines at 9 AM. Here we would learn to use the mechanical adding machine. I would come in late to this class, traveling from Brooklyn. The professor locked the door, so I missed several classes. The last day of the semester, he announced the grades. He graded me D. In their first class action, that class let out a roar that could be heard in Brooklyn. They let him know which way was up. He quickly changed the grade to A. I was not invited to join Phi Beta Kappa, but rumor had it that I had been nominated, but rejected because Business students did not merit Phi Beta Kappa.Fifty-five years later, I was honored as an Outstanding Graduate, installed in the Hunter College Hall of Fame.

The Chief, our Bible for jobs with security, announced the test for teaching Accounting in the city high schools to be given during my senior year. I had to pass that exam. I took a cram course with the Chairman of Accounting at Lafayette HS. He was later transferred to Board headquarters because of some kind of fraud. I took the exam; my grade was 96, the highest grade in the city! The four points that I lost were on the metric system, which I had decided did not merit the study time for me to learn. Two lists were published: the men’s and the women’s. My grade was higher than the top men’s grade; I had the highest grade in the city, nevertheless, they spoke of Marcus Karten as the highest. Sexism again.

Hunter College was delirious with joy. They had upped City College the first time they entered the race. Suddenly they knew me, and were proud of me. They took credit for my work. The man who ran the cram course took credit. Hunter made me Editor of that year’s Commercial Education Association yearbook. And I got a teaching appointment, as I had hoped for and planned.

One Halloween night, coming home from some outing, I found a huge swastika painted on our store window. I tried to erase it with my handkerchief so that my parents would not see it in the morning, but was not completely successful. In the morning I discovered that a bar of soap had been used to draw the hateful symbol, and that it washed off easily with water. Once I had a date with a dentist who was eager to marry into secure money (like a teacher’s monthly check). He took me home to 812 McDonald, and never called again. He was shocked . He expected a fancy home, I guess. Good riddance.

My teaching job, in addition to attracting mercenary suitors, made it possible for us to borrow money when we needed it desperately. Now, with teaching

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credentials, I could go to a place called Household Finance on the second floor of a building on Kings Highway, and borrow the same one hundred dollars at a hair-raising rate of interest. This we had to do several times.

31Pop and Mom announced that it was time to move. Pop found a farmhouse

that was up for grabs: 221 Elmwood Avenue. It was an old farmhouse, with a front porch, three floors, a widow’s peak, a large garden, and railroad tracks in the rear. The garden was dominated by two magnificent magnolia trees. The railroad was fascinating: it carried freight cars from across the country to the docks at 69th Street in Brooklyn to be loaded on ships to who-knows where. One of my favorite occupations was to count the cars. Sometimes there were as many as 120 cars in one train. Many of them passed through at night, but they were no worse than the sound of the elevated trains on the Culver Line that had passed a few feet from our windows in our previous homes on Gravesend/McDonald Avenue.

Eugene and Leon were already away from home, in the army. Pop bought the house with a small down payment and a long mortgage, and immediately started alterations. He removed the widow’s peak; it was useless. And he gave private entrance to the upstairs, so that it was now a three-family house; with two paying tenants, he could manage the payments.

There were numerous applicants. My friend Gert petitioned me daily to rent the middle apartment to her actress friend Edna Starr, who keeps a very clean house, and pays the rent. She got it. Reva and Irving wanted the top floor. It was just large enough for them, and the view of sunsets was breathtaking. Later, when Eda was alone and needed a place to stay, Pop closed off for her the front room on the West side of the house. This was Mom’s first relief from the store after all these years. But Pop continued to change the world with his contracting.Lots of “cause” parties; lots of cooking, baking, socializing, and watching for the mailman. Eugene went into the army first: he worked in the computer section, up front near the Germans. Abby went abroad in the Paratrooper service. Leon stayed in this country. Charlie, the mailman, would ring the bell when there was a letter from a soldier, and slip away quietly when there was none

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Transportation: Getting AroundTrolley cars, buses, elevated trains, and automobiles were our weapons of

transport. When I was about five years old, uncle Joe took me for a ride on the upper deck of a Fifth Avenue bus, and my straw hat was blown off by the wind. Seldom did I use that bus.

We lived “under” the elevated line on Gravesend Avenue: the Culver Line, otherwise known as the “Pavolya Line” (slow train). The Culver Line, with open platforms at the ends of each car, ran from the 36th Street station to Coney Island. Coming from downtown, one would have to take the Sea Beach or the West End train to 36th Street and transfer to the Culver Line Trolley cars carried us across Brooklyn. Automotive travel was far more comfortable and efficient. As

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I told you, Pop bought a previously owned Gardner convertible when I was about six years old. Deborah, in her story about Pop, said that this car was a Reo. Whichever it was, it had a short life with us. He sold it to Murray for about ten dollars, and then later purchased a new Chevrolet for $766—on the installment plan. After that wore out, he bought a quarter ton truck (about the size of the minivans that we see everywhere today); Irving painted signs on it for The Monarch Company Fleet, Truck No. 5 or 6. It served fairly well, though one day when Eugene was driving it down Flatbush Avenue near Atlantic Avenue, and I sat next to him, we saw an automobile wheel riding down the street ahead of us. It was our right front wheel!The brakes were not efficient in this truck; on many occasions, Eugene had to put his foot through the floor of the van, reaching with his leg to the pavement to slow down and stop the van.

After the war, Pop bought a surplus army jeep at a General Services Auction for about $200. That served well. It took me to the hospital to give birth to Miriam during the blizzard of 47-48. I could not have gotten there without it.

Martin and I bought a used Plymouth from Micky’s old boss, and we enjoyed it for a long time, though his doctor brother Harry did not like us to park it in front of his house when we visited. He felt that it did not make a good impression on the community. We then inherited a Buick from Murray for a few dollars. It worked well for us, though it had some idiosyncracies. The starter and the choke had special needs. To start the car, I would have to lift the hood, use a glitter-art covered wand to press the starter, and then jump into the car, pull the choke, and yield to the car’s special needs. It was not difficult, but it was a curious sight for passers-by.

Then we bought a blue station wagon with which I became the community chauffeur. My daughters freely offered my services to anyone who needed to be driven home from school, or to the museum, or to whatever. I was very happy when the car needed repair and was out of commission for a few days. We all wept when the station wagon finally broke down and had to be abandoned. After that time we had cars that were useful, but not notable.

Automobiles and trucks served Pop’s business needs and our personal needs. Most importantly, they carried Martin and our family to Sunken Meadow State Park for over 150 visits to Grandpa Philip. Many times Dave used our car for his visits to Grandpa as well.

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My Teaching Career

Oh joy! Oh rapture! The streets were still full of unemployed, but I was immediately appointed to the position of Teacher in Training at Girls Commercial High School, in the building that is now Prospect Heights High School. The Teacher in Training position is now obsolete, but in many ways it was a good idea, and could probably be helpful in training teachers now. Unfortunately, it was also exploitative. I earned $4.50 a day, $22.50 a week with no benefits, while teachers

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were earning several thousand dollars a year. My schedule consisted of teaching two classes a day, observing experienced teachers in the department (and learning from them), and assisting the Accounting Chairman, Irving Raskin, with his many duties in school and in commercial education associations. He liked me and my work, and was for some time very supportive of me and my career. Ruth Dropkin’s brother-in-law, Aaron Toder, was in that department and was very helpful.

It was there that I joined the union, because I believed in unions. The union members were good people; they helped me to adjust to the many pressures of teaching. At the end of my year as Teacher-in-Training, I was assigned as a Permanent Substitute to the Annex, on Vanderbilt Avenue at P.S. 42. The head of the annex was a lovely old lady, Miss Bentley, who vacationed at the hospital during the holiday recess; she was covered by Blue Cross, the hospital needed customers, and she could have a good rest there. I got along beautifully with her, the staff and the students. Since I was still an unfulfilled journalist, I encouraged the students to put out a rexographed newspaper twice a semester. Miss Bentley was horrified when one of the girls wrote a short piece about how embarrassed she was when she carried her baby sister across the street, and found that the diapers had fallen off!Censorship again.

All around me teachers were still unemployed, or were substitutes for many years. But they had remained true to their ideals and their self-images; their subjects were English, Foreign Languages, Math, Philosophy, Science, and so. No one but I had stooped so low as to turn to Commercial Subjects. I should say only few had stooped so low. But I then was appointed as a regular teacher to East New York Vocational School; this was an assignment to hell or to purgatory. I had heard only nightmares about the vocational schools So off I went to P.S. 84, at Stone and Liberty Avenues in Brownsville—the top two floors comprised the girls’ annex to ENYVHS. The students were big, tough girls of mixed ethnicity from the neighborhood: Polish, Jewish, Catholic, Negro, Italian. One black girl never lifted her head from her Bible all day. All were street-wise, relatively illiterate, and unprepared for the world outside of their immediate turf.

34My first year there was Hell. The students expected nothing; they walked all

over me, each other and themselves. The second year things got better, and finally we worked in tandem. I was never fully prepared for the many surprises they could give me. Selena White came in one day with the report that she had chatted with Paul Robeson about me. I had recommended his performance in Othello to the class. She went to see it on her own, went backstage, and informed him that Miss Bellin had sent her. He was gracious. Paula accused me of being bigoted (anti-Polish) because I requested an absence note. Best of all, when I had to leave the class for a few minutes because I was nauseous, and asked them to be quiet until I came back, I returned to find the assistant principal standing at the front of the room. He left with a frown on his face. I said to the class, “What have you been up to?” Angela Paternostro jumped up, shouting, “Why do you always pick on me?” “Why do you say I’m picking on you? I’m speaking to the class,” I responded. “Oh yeah,” said

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My next-door neighbor was Harold Schor, who was part of the Foner musical group that performed at events and at resorts. From Harold I heard that turn-of-the-century plea to be tolerant:

She’s more to be pitied than censured;She’s more to be helped than despised.She’s only a lassie who venturedDown life’s stormy path ill-advised.

Conditions in the schools were rough for the teachers; they were worse for the students. Equipment was lacking; for example, there were not enough typewriters for the students in the class. The shop rooms lacked enough working equipment, so that the sewing machines could not serve the students who were training for the needle trades—and so on down the line. The teachers were meek; they needed their jobs. The students were meek as well; they did not know any better. And their parents were distant from the schools. They were grateful for any learning their children might acquire, but their expectations were vague.

The only place to get help was at the union, where in the Vocational Committee, we pooled our problems, and discovered that all of the vocational schools had the same flaws. It was there that I met Irv Glucksman, Joe Grebanier, John Dropkin, Blossom, Doris Rosenberg, Mort Siegelbaum and Jackie Backall. Sam Zaslofsky, who taught at the ENY Main Building, also joined us. We all worked together to improve the schools, and became close friends. Irv, Joe, Jackie and Sam are gone, but Blossom, Doris, Mort Siegelbaum and John are still our close friends. John was fortunate to be able to leave the vocational schools and move on to become a Physics Professor at Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute. We put on a play called Vexational Varieties, in which Blossom sang the leading role as the good fairy, and John Dropkin demonstrated teaching a shop class in which the only equipment was a non-working radio; he taught the class how to turn the radio on, and also to turn it off. I still have the script, and may append it to these memories.

We campaigned for a five period class load for teachers of academic and commercial subjects, and a six period load for shop classes; we fought for smaller class size. Eventually we won that struggle, in gradual increments.

At ENYVHS, once a month there were faculty meetings at the Main Building, chaired by the principal. It is difficult to conceive of a more incompetent man at the helm. At these meetings, he would order that we do this or that, inappropriate and often insulting. No one would say a thing. I was young, and spirited. I would sometimes challenge him at these meetings when I couldn’t tolerate what he was saying. No one else would speak up. It took me a while to realize that even union members, militant at the union, were quiet and passive in the face of problems on the job. They did not like to see the children cheated, but opted for peace and quiet for themselves in the workplace. Even when it meant not complaining about their own heavy teaching loads. The administration made my life more difficult with petty complaints and criticisms. For example, on the last day of school in June, 1945, my supervisor handed me an observation report: the lesson he had observed had been excellent, but he had found a flaw. The American flag was not displayed prominently enough at the back of the room!

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The Annex was well situated for my ethnic interests. Around the corner on Atlantic Avenue was (and still is) Maxwell’s Bakery where one could purchase a delicious ten inch layer cake for seventy-five cents. This I did many times for parties. A few blocks away from the earlier annex at Stone Avenue was the self proclaimed Kishke King. The girls in my class were happy to run down from our fifth floor room to the Kishke King to bring back for me a huge corned beef on rye sandwich, including pickle, for seventeen cents. We did not indulge in his kishkes, which were undoubtedly great.

The pushcarts on Belmont Avenue were also very appealing. Most appealing were the monthly pay checks. They carried us through

turbulent times. On many pay days, Pop would park in front of the school building so that I could endorse the check, run out and give it to him; he would then drive directly to deposit it at the bank to cover the checks he had written.

I never enjoyed the subject I taught; I enjoyed interaction with my peers and with my students. I taught them well; they were able to hold down jobs as bookkeepers, if they could get them. Jobs were scarce. And I helped shape their attitudes of respect and tolerance for others, within the limits imposed by the world around them.

My years at ENYVHS were from 1939 (after Girls Commercial) to 1947. Pearl Harbor was bombed, and we were hometown soldiers for the duration of the war. I was in charge of assembly programs during the war, and arranged a rich program of guest visits: a WAC leader spoke to the girls about women’s role in the war; Alex Goldfein gave a singing concert (the girls swooned over him); a Chinese leader spoke, saying that if literacy meant that his people could read the Daily News, then he would prefer for them to remain illiterate! We sold things for war relief.And we knitted. School management did not like this. They did not like US involvement in the war, and did not exert themselves to support it.

In addition to my work at school to support the war effort, I became a speaker for the OPC (Office of Price Control), speaking to neighborhood women about not exceeding their sugar and meat rations, and not paying black market prices to their butchers for their meat. The women wept about their sugar rations; they needed the sugar to bake cakes and cookies for their sons who were away from home. Years later I also realized that they could not resist the black market prices their butchers demanded. But I tried.

We had lots of parties in those days: usually fund raising for the war effort. They were lovely house parties (some in our home on Elmwood Avenue), with refreshments, entertainment, and a lot of work preparing and cleaning up. My social life was uneven. After union meetings at Washington Irving High School, lots of us would go to the cafeteria on Union Square and have “coffee and”. This was a social ritual. The girls (Florence, Selma, Pearl, Millie Grossman, Helen, and I) would go out for dinner to Larre’s on Lexington Avenue, where we got a French meal for forty-nine cents. We’d go to Irving Plaza to hear Leadbelly, or Burl Ives, or Josh White. A lot of our spare time was spent supporting promising political candidates, and canvassing voters to go to the polls so that they might be well represented. We would go from door to door in the tenements in Harlem, urging the voters to vote for Roosevelt, for Vito Marcantonio, for Fiorello LaGuardia. We

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knocked on doors, were invited into homes, and entered without fear. Those were the days.

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As Luck Would Have It: Meeting Martin!The best men were away at war; those who were here and nice were married.

The others were garbage, or completely attached to their mothers. I was resigned to being an “old maid.” I gave up hope of meeting someone worthwhile.

At one performance of Vexational Varieties, several teachers pointed me out to a lab assistant who had just come home from the Pacific Theater. Martin was very handsome in his officer’s uniform. When I telephoned him in the home of his neighbor (his family had no phone) to join our group at the May Day parade, he asked me for a date for the next Saturday; I said I was busy. I was not impressed with him, and expected him to be like all the other jerks. He then offered some more dates on which we could get together. I said I was taken. He insisted. Please tell him the first possible date on which we could get together, because he was not ready to give up. Friday, May 3. On that evening, I felt a bit under the weather, and so I took his arm while walking. I needed it for balance; he saw it as a warm, friendly message. We ate at Forsts, around 67 Street and CPW (including Nesselrode Pie), and then walked along CPW to the movie house of 57 St. The moon was bright; he asked did I think men would walk on the moon in our lifetimes. I said, “Why not?” That clinched the deal, as far as he was concerned. The movie was The Red Balloon; as we entered the movie house, my cousin Murray was exiting. He was the first one in the family to meet Martin. The next day we went to MOMA and then to Gray’s ticket agency, where he told me to choose any play on the board, providing the ticket cost no more than $2.50. We saw a comedy with Ray Bolger; he enjoyed it enormously and I tolerated it. But he did not ask to see me on Sunday, nor did he call me all week. I was puzzled and upset. He had no phone and had not yet learned to use the phone as an instrument for communication. As for no Sunday date, I will explain that elsewhere. On the third date, he proposed marriage. I needed time to think it over.I had one stipulation: I would not marry anyone in the rigid control of the school system. Accommodating to the system required a loss of dignity that I would not tolerate. On Brooklyn Day, June 6, I accompanied him to Newark where he was to be interviewed for a job as a chemist in private industry. They hired him on the spot, to begin work the week ending Friday, June 21. That evening, on Brooklyn Day, we took a ride on the Staten Island Ferry, the St. George. I asked whether his proposal still held; if it did, I was prepared to take a chance. But he would be on probation. (Note: he still is). He was very excited. He pulled out his savings bank book, showing me that he had a balance of $1,200, with which we could start our life together.

I had always wanted to be married on my birthday. The wedding was set for Saturday, June 22. We were to get licenses and the Wasserman Test on Saturday, June 15. At 8 AM that morning, he called to say he could not go with me. He had had terrible pain coming home from his first day on the job at Balco in Newark, and

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now was going into Beth El Hospital (now Brookdale) for an appendectomy. To this day, I still believe that it was pre-marital anxiety that caused the pain. The marriage was postponed for one week. He was discharged from the hospital a few days after the surgery, and convalesced at our home, which had a garden and no stairs to climb. We were married on Thursday, June 27 in a dignified civil ceremony at Brooklyn Borough Hall. It was a scorching hot day, and the groom was wilting, but not willing to postpone. We had a lovely wedding reception the following evening at Mom’s house. The food was marvelous, mostly created by Mom and Reva. Chaya baked a 12 egg sponge cake. Joe played the mandolin. Joe Goldenberg took 16 mm. movies. To my amazement, I was married!

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Working Hard to Improve the Schools

As I said, union meetings provided a rewarding and stimulating break from the lengthy and arduous school day. The union members were good people who cared about the children they were teaching, and were devoted to improving the schools and the lives of the children. Before I entered the vocational school, I joined the Academic Freedom committee at the union, and learned about the Palmer raids, and the current threats to academic freedom. Then the Vocational Committee became my home, and we worked hard to improve the vocational schools for children and teachers. In 1947, I was elected to be Vice-President for Vocational Schools for the Teachers Union. I never served because I was pregnant and took a maternity leave, as of July 1, 1947. Irv Glucksman took the position in my stead.I never returned to the public school system as an employee. Only as a consultant years later.

McCarthy cast an evil spell over the country in those days. I don’t have words to describe the impact of this man on every person of intelligence and dignity. Textbook descriptions of paranoia were being lived out in reality: people were followed, phones were tapped, mail was opened, friendships withered in fear of being associated with McCarthy suspects. The Rapp-Coudert Committee accused college teachers of using their positions to subvert the government, to teach communist beliefs in their classrooms, no matter what their subjects were. In the effort to kill unions and unionism, the Taft-Hartley Committee conducted hearings into the beliefs and activities of Teachers Union members. Eugene, Martin and I, Abby and several friends prepared a list of jobs that we could do to support our families, if necessary: plumbing, home repair, bookkeeping, start a book club or a record club, consult on varied problems. Martin was invited to pursue his research in Upsala, Sweden, and we planned to reserve space on the Queen Elizabeth II to Europe. We never resorted to these plans—but they were related to the McCarthy hysteria. All of the officers of the union received subpoenas to the Taft-Hartley inquiry; they had generously invited both Irv and me, though we had not served as officers, and though I was on leave. Miriam was about one year old, and she was sick.

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The night before the hearing, those who had been subpoenaed met. The $64 question that we expected was “Are you are have you ever been…..?” Undoubtedly there were Communists as well as non-Communists in the Union and it was suggested that we could best protect the union and its members if every one of us responded “No.” The Fifth Amendment was ruled out by the leadership. It would not help protect the union. It should be kept in mind that the Congressional Committees were completely illegal, that they were unconstitutional, and that all their verdicts were later reversed and the victims compensated. It was an ordeal led by native fascists.

The next morning we appeared at the hearing room downtown in Manhattan. One of the leaders had gone out of town—to Washington—for an urgent reason. Another one had been hospitalized for some illness. I had a doctor’s note attesting to the fact that my infant was sick, and I had to get home quickly. I thought they would let me go home. No, they were smarter than that. They took me first. They swore me in, and questioned me for about twenty minutes. I have no recollection of the interview. Sam Greenfield, who was in the audience, told me later that I had been a brilliant witness. I was so brilliant that my picture was in the newspapers that afternoon, but only because I was first and the newsmen could capture my photo for the next edition. To be a strong union member automatically labeled you as a Communist suspect.

It was dangerous to be an intellectual. To own books and pencils and typewriters. The bookshelves in our living room had to be cleared of books, and replaced with tchachkes, because the shelves could be seen from the street. Friends walked to phone booths to call us, and were cautious about identifying themselves. It was an unbelievable time.

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The Peekskill Concert In 1949, when Miriam was about one and one half years old, we drove up to Shrub Oak for a visit. That evening, Paul Robeson was to present his second concert at Peekskill. The first concert had brought violence from the community. It was planned that the second one would be peaceful Like the first concert, this second one ended in disaster. The road that led to the picnic grounds where the concert was held was a narrow country lane. All along this road, and the following roads leading to the main highway, and all along the main highway, groups gathered piles of rocks and waited. When the concert was finished, each car leaving the grounds had to drive single file and ran a gauntlet of rocks. Cars were smashed, windows shattered, cuts, bruises, fractures as the cars and passengers were attacked by the hoodlums. The police stood by and watched.Our car had the six of us as passengers; we had a seventh passenger, a black man, who lay on the floor behind the front seats, with his face down so that he would not be seen. He was a stranger whom we sheltered. Never has Martin driven as well as he did that day. Our right front ventilation window was smashed, as was that door. The splintered glass brought blood to Bobby’s face; he was sitting at the front right window seat. As the next group prepared to stone us, Martin drove directly at them,

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and they jumped aside. Remember that this was an old used car. On the main highway, Route 9, Martin accelerated so quickly at each light that no stone hit us again. We drove south many miles, though we had to get back to Shrub Oak which was north and east. We needed gasoline desperately, and yet were afraid to stop at a station that might be hostile; we did not want to indicate that we had been part of the attacked group. Finally we did buy gasoline; we did not permit them to see Bobby’s face, and Martin was prepared with some explanation of the broken window. Now we could go across to the east, and then north to Shrub Oak. By this time, it was dark and there were no hoodlums on these last roads. It was a frightening demonstration of terrorism at home, and those of us who were there will never forget it.

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I was a happy mother during that period, and tried repeatedly to have another child. I suffered several miscarriages, and finally I was able to mother Deb, after spending practically the whole pregnancy in bed.

I had no interest in returning to the school system as it was then. I resigned, and withdrew my investment in the pension fund, about $2,000. I never regretted leaving the public school system.

In the meantime, at home, Martin had left Balco and gone back to Brooklyn Polytech to earn his doctoral degree, with the help of the Veterans Administration’s GI bill, and with the help of Miriam and Lillie. We lived on the stipend from the GI bill. He was chained to the desk, as he still is. His experimental work made use of a plastic called Dowex 50. These were tiny black balls; they had to be perfectly round, and it was necessary to roll them back and forth in a baking tin in order to extract those that were not perfectly spherical. Our guests and I did this for hours. I also typed his thesis on an old manual machine. That period was when we came closest to divorce—or murder—because he complained that the letters were not all typed evenly. Tough. He finally made it.

Balco was happy to hire him again. Now he was bringing home a living wage. Finally he reached the pinnacle in salary: $11 or $12000. But he was unhappy in industry. He wanted to discover new worlds, and that he could do only in a university setting. I urged him to make the change. In 1956 he was 38 years old, rather old to be entering university employment, but Prof. Kallmann at NYU was happy to have him, at half the salary he had earned in industry. He made the move, and has been at NYU ever since. Note: the evening of his first tiring day on the job at NYU he was offered a job at Rockefeller University!

In tune with the times, about a week after Martin started work at NYU, a police van pulled up in front of the building, and all employees were instructed to get into it and be driven to the police station to be fingerprinted. Everyone but Martin did as they were told. Martin refused. He had not joined the academic community to be treated like a criminal—or a traitor. Martin was never chided or reprimanded about his non-compliance.

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39

AFTER THE WAR

We were fortunate. Eugene, Leon and Abby all came home with no injuries. And Martin spotted me, pursued me, and married me, as I have described elsewhere. Living quarters were hard to find after the war. We spent our first night in Reva and Irving’s apartment. The next night Becky vacated her apartment for us. She was very generous to do that. Her grandfather clock, however, was not so generous. It woke us every hour on the hour. We’ll never forget that. It was now the end of June

Chaya had four sons, and no woman was good enough for any one of them.The only daughter-in-law whom she accepted with no (or little) reservation was Rozzie, Micky’s wife. She did not consider me worthy of Martin, and freely criticized to us her other daughters-in-law. As she surely must have criticized me to them. After many, many years of relying on me, she accepted me, and on my birthday, during her last living year, she wished for me “to make many mistakes, and to live long enough to correct them.”

Anyway, we moved back to Elmwood Avenue, where we now occupied the large bedroom behind the living room on the ground floor. We paid rent for our room and board: ten dollars a week. Mom was an angel to tolerate us Pop discovered a deserted house on East 4th Street that had been reclaimed by the city for unpaid taxes, and was about to be sold at auction. He suggested that Martin accompany him to the auction in the hope that we could afford that house. Buying a house was a new concept for Martin; buying it unseen was unthinkable. Martin and Eugene sought ways of entering the building. They discovered that the transom window into the dining room on the side of the house might somehow be accessible. To their credit, they climbed in, inspected the premises—and reported that it had possibilities. It had been stripped of every bit of plumbing and metal, particularly copper, which was a hot item during the war.

They went to the auction, and were the high bidders: $2,800. Pop, the contractor, assured us that he could make the house livable for very little. He hired an architect, Bellini, to make plans for this as a two-family home so that it could be income-producing. Pop did a great job, used the finest materials available, and the best workmanship that could be hired—and gradually the cost of the building came to more than $18,000, for which we could have bought a palatial home in Ditmas Park on a bigger lot without all of this work.

In the meantime, Stuyvesant Town accepted the application of M. Pope. They called to offer us an apartment. We no longer needed it, but Micky and Rozzie now needed an apartment. Micky took the apartment set aside for M. Pope, and, as you know, lived in Stuyvesant Town for many years.

We moved into this house in 1947, and have lived here ever sinceWe did not enjoy being landlords. Our next group was family: Eugene and

Judy, with David and Peter. When Anne was about to be born, they decided they needed a whole house to themselves, and they moved to East 19th Street.Now we

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needed and could afford this whole house for our own family, and we redid it as a one family home, though legally we still have two-family status.

Although this community was populated by St. Rose of Lima people, we had good friends and neighbors nearby. Across the street was Helene Setlow, whose sister Bella Abzug came frequently, as did her mother, who sounded much like Bella. Al Setlow unfortunately died. Helene remarried and we lost touch with each other. Goody and Ruth Gilson lived on Avenue I; Peggy, who worked for them, would bring the children, Billy and Mady, to play in our backyard, and have lunch. Lots of children on the block ran in and out of the house all the time.

Ours was a busy household: children, friends, neighbors, Martin working and studying. I was eager to build a new career that would not interfere with mothering my children. I heard, through Judy, of a program at Brooklyn Jewish Hospital. Dr. Joseph Wortis headed a Retardation Clinic there. I applied for a volunteer position, teaching reading. Fortunately, Wortis invited me for an interview. Coming on to staff at that very time was Herbert Birch. They offered me the volunteer position, heading a Reading Program, at a salary of zero. I was committed to coming in twice a week to set up the program, acquire the services of other volunteers, and run the program. This I did so well that after several months, Wortis placed me on staff officially, by paying a stipend of ten dollars for each session that I worked. I quickly learned that if I had to be absent, usually only because one of my children was sick, it was not wise to report that as the reason. Motherhood had to be completely separate from career.

Working in that clinic was a miraculous entry into the fields of psychology and mental health. The day would start with a full staff case conference at 9 am. All of staff was present, and one learned much from the discussions. For a long time, I was afraid to say a word with all of these learned people present. Eventually I learned that they were quite human, and most of them lacked what I had lots of: common sense. I met and made friends with so many of them: Herb Birch, Max Pollock, Jay Rosenthal and Dan Lehrman (both from animal research laboratories), Ethel Toback, Zelda Klapper, Monte Ullman, MD (later dedicated to ESP), Elsa Haeusserman, Sam Korn, Ed Gordon, and Carl Drayer (who was our pediatrician). After Elsa wrote her book on the pre-school special child, I told Wortis that it really needed a manual so that the practitioner could cut through all the verbiage, and make use of it in evaluating children. He picked up the idea, persuaded Grune and Stratton to follow through with it, and Zelda Klapper, Eleonora Jedrysek and I wrote that manual.

During that period, I enrolled in the Graduate Ed. Psych. Program at NYU, and served my internship at the Brooklyn Jewish Hospital clinic, working even more closely with these outstanding psychologists.

The Infants Home of Brooklyn, here in Borough Park, which had been an orphanage, found that it serviced fewer orphans than it had originally done. They therefore decided to set up a pre-school program for disturbed children, and arranged for Wortis to direct the mental health team and to hire the staff.. They needed a psychologist on the team, and eventually Wortis offered me the job. I

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accepted it on a part time basis, so that I could be home at three every day. I am proud of my work there in setting up the center, and in delivering service. Dr. Wortis had several applicants for an amorphous job at the hospital clinic. Sam Wallach was one of the applicants. Wortis asked for my opinion; I recommended Wallach and he was hired.

Local 1199 of the Hospital Workers Union came in to organize the group. The organizer was autocratic. By that time, staffing at the pre-school program also presented problems. Things were not smooth. The organizer, Jim, told me of a new program that was being set up to rehabilitate school dropouts: JOIN (Job Orientation in Neighborhoods). Dr. Cyril Foster was Chief Psychologist. They hired me as a counselor. There I met Lou Uchim, who became a close friend. When they realized that it was essential to teach these dropouts how to read, they selected me to set up and lead the Education Program. I got the “Why you?” treatment from other counselors. And I could not really explain that. My low profile gets in my way again and again. I worked at 280 Broadway in the Modell Building. I loved being downtown, next to City Hall. Dr. Frank Arricale headed JOIN for much of the time I was there. I was given a courthouse on Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn to set up as a school. I had a large staff, all do-gooders, many from the Peace Corps. They all meant well, but it was clear that they had not the slightest notion of how to approach the teaching of reading. They needed a manual, which I prepared to write for them. This was an important position that I had; I was listed in the green manual of the city government. Again I made good friends, but it was an environment that was essentially foreign to me.

40Monte Ullman (later of Parapsychology Fame) was now setting up the

Psychiatry Department at Maimonides Hospital, and, to some extent, the department at Coney Island Hospital. Maimonides had a contract with the city to run Coney Island Hospital at that time. I became Chief of Psychoeducational Services. That is where I stayed for more than thirty years, developing an internationally recognized group. I first finished the book I had started at JOIN. While working at CIH, I built a large group, spoke at conferences, consulted with the schools, and was a widely sought speaker locally and nationally. I earned my Ph.D. degree from NYU while at CIH. During the last year of my work on the degree, I cut back to half time so that I could move about easily. Mort Wachspress, Chief of Psychiatry at the time, urged me to retain full time status anyway. But I refused. We made three films, a set of teaching tapes; I wrote many books, and published two tests that were well received. I trained many people who advanced well in the field: a large group of interns from Yeshiva U., Deborah Edel (now an important staff member at Mary McDowell Center for Learning), Abi Haklay (now a therapist in Bucks County, PA), Lenore Walker (who advanced high in APA, and made great contributions to feminist issues), Suki Miller (an important member of Esalen), Dr. Eileen Bayer (therapist and consultant in education at the UN), Kevin Clark (now at Interfaith-St. John’s Hospital in Brooklyn), and Marie White (who heads a Learning Program in Long Island, trains reading teachers at Nyack College, and is the daughter of Ronnie SanFilippo who worked with us.) Irv and Pearl

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Glucksman worked there with me for a while, and Helen DeSalvo was an excellent executive secretary. In connection with that job, I met Dr. Bluma Weiner (Special Ed. At Yeshiva U.), Billie Frumkin, Les Fine, Adele Landesberg, Ira Pomerance, Mark Tarail. Many of us are still very close. I am told that I am a legend at CI Hospital .

41 I was an active public speaker and gave a number of keynote speeches at national and international conferences. Judy Pelletier, an active leader in Nova Scotia, invited me to give the keynote speech at the Nova Scotia Learning Disabilities Conference, then arranged a number of training workshops for me to lead on other occasions. Jim Matles, General Secretary of the United Electrical Workers Union invited me to give the keynote speech at their annual conference in Pittsburgh; I accepted, and I wowed them. They published my speech, and were very happy with it. Rose Russell had given the keynote speech several years earlier. When I met Sam Wallach on Coney Island Avenue shortly after that, he asked what was I doing. He bemoaned my work at Coney Island Hospital, of which I was proud. When I told him that I had been invited to give the keynote speech at the UE, and had done so, he was taken aback. “Why you?” he asked. What do you make of that? I was invited to teach at NYU as an Adjunct Associate Professor (How to Teach the Neurologically Impaired); I did this for several years, and then quit. They later invited me to consider joining their full time staff. I was not interested. I taught for several years at Brooklyn College as Adjunct Full Professor, training and supervising student teachers. I resigned from that position, again because it was too much to add to my work load.

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My first book, Guidelines for Teaching Remedial Reading to the Disadvantaged, was published by Book-Lab, which was an adjunct of Faculty Press here in Brooklyn. Book Lab was headed by Lou Heitner, one of the partners of Faculty Press, and was able to make use of the printing facilities during the slow period. Irv Glucksman worked there at the time, and introduced the book to them.They sent it out for pre-publication review, and received only one negative review: from Leo Auerbach, who found it politically incorrect because he said that one of its goals was to prepare illiterates for vocational goal, .whereas we should not be restricting their life goals. His hand-written review was inadvertently in the manuscript when it was returned to me. Despite that, the book was published and became an immediate best-seller and ultimately a classic. It was badly needed by practitioners. I continued to work with Book Lab, and became good friends with Lou Heitner, as well as his wife Irene and their sons who also worked in the same firm. Years later, Book Lab was sold to a new owner, Maury Leon—and it has not been the same since.

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In the house is an album of photos and clippings that outline my years at Coney Island Hospital. They were full and rich years. Look at them if you want more.

How was I able to work and also be a mother? As I said, I needed help. One day Mom called and said someone had come to help her from the NYS Employment Service, and that it might be nice if I came over to meet her. I walked around the corner, and met Evelyn Coburn, who had recently come up from North Carolina with her husband, Sam. I invited her to help me the next week. She agreed, but she showed up with her sister Louise. I was taken aback. I could not afford to pay two people. No, no, she said. Louise had just come up, and Evelyn was showing her how to do housework. Evelyn has been with us since Deb was 5 or 6 years old. Our families are to some extent intertwined. All of us went to her glorious 54th wedding anniversary party. She has been married as long as Martin and myself. She is now retired, back to North Carolina, where she cooks, fishes, and entertains her family. We check each other out on the phone from time to time—fairly regularly.

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IN RECENT YEARS

In 1982, Deb asked me to change careers: to become Manager of her about-to-be The New Theatre of Brooklyn. I accepted this as a part time position, cutting back a bit on my time at the hospital. That is a whole other story that my daughters know.

In May of 1983, Ezra Jack Keats, Martin’s life-long friend died. Martin and our family inherited the responsibility of distributing the royalties from Ezra’s classic children’s books towards enriching the lives of children, as well as carrying Ezra’s reputation and works into the future, particularly the twenty-first century. I worked with Martin (assisted by Deborah) intensively on this project, through the Ezra Jack Keats Foundation. As a result, the Board of Education of the City of New York has established a citywide annual Keats bookmaking program, the New York Public Library administers an annual Keats New Writer’s Award for Children’s Books, as well as a New Illustrator’s Award. The Foundation offers minigrants to libraries all over the country, and has set up a website My contribution has been significant. I am now phasing out, and will look for other employment.

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VACATIONS AND HOBBIES

All my life I wanted to see the world. That was why I had wanted to be a journalist—so that I could see the world. I saved maps and pictures of foreign countries. I had postcards of Mt. Fuji, the Eiffel Tower, and Victoria Falls. Martin reports that among the things I brought to our marriage was a map of a bicycle tour through Indo-China. These seemed to be unattainable dreams. But when I became a teacher, my travels began, though on a modest scale. Let me describe briefly our summer vacations from that point on.

1. Ellen Avins, Norma Tamen, (fellow Hunter graduates) Charlie Crootoff (Norma’s boy friend whom she later married) and I took a ten day automobile trip though New England, in my father’s carOn the Cape, Charlie rented a horse, and went riding on the dunes. The horse refused at one point to go further. But Charlie was obstinate; he forced the horse to advance, and the horse sank into the quicksand. Fortunately, they survived, but I am not sure Charlie learned his lesson. Our splurge was to be at a hotel in New Hampshire that was neat and inexpensive, but did not admit us because no Jews were welcome there.

2. Millie Grossman was as adventurous as I. She and I took a hitchhiking trip to Boston, New Hampshire, Pennsylvania and back home. It was an adventure to travel with Millie. She knew what she wanted, and she would not concede or compromise or give up one iota of what she could grab. On the way north, we got a hitch on a wagon that was carrying circus equipment; two men were in the cab and the open flatbed of the truck had the equipment. They permitted us to ride in the open with the equipment. When it started to rain, they said that one of us could join them in the cab. There was no discussion. Millie decided that it would be Millie. When I requested that we share, she refused, because this was her opportunity to learn about the working class.

Millie married later, but I never met her husband. She left Central Commercial High School during the witch hunt, and became a photographer. Apparently she had, before she died, gained stature in the field as a woman photographer who recorded the urban world. She is listed on the web. She was another one of those people who, under her acerbic exterior, was a good woman. She undoubtedly did better with her peers when working independently as a photographer than in a group situation, as in a school.

3. I felt that I would never be able to see foreign countries abroad. Teachers described the Gaspe Peninsula as a visit to France, but I never got there. But in the last year of WW II, 1945, Helen Harrison, Helen Pfeffer and I went on a six week trip to Mexico. We traveled by train, with troops that were being shifted; we had no seats; but it was our great adventure. The whole summer cost me two hundred dollars, including souvenirs We stayed at the Y. Air conditioning was unknown at the time. It was so hot,

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about 112 degrees F, that it was difficult to breathe. For many years, I thought of New Orleans as an oven.

The summer in Mexico was exciting. We visited trade unions, and were treated as representatives of US trade unions. We were excited about the new education act, guaranteeing education for all, and the naming of Cinqo de Mayo Boulevard for that. The murals, the art work, the Ballet Folklorico, the émigrés from the Holocaust, Taxco, the silver artisans—all of these were wondrous to us. Helen Pfeffer got amoebic dysentery that stayed with her for years; Helen Harrison and I fortunately were not infected

Mexico on that visit represented a visit to the past, the present, and the future. The future was so hopeful at the time.

4. I planned to return to Mexico in the summer of 1946. But I got married instead, and had to attend to Martin’s recuperation from the appendicitis surgery. He promised to go there with me at our first opportunity, but he was quite apprehensive of making such a visit. He was fearful of Montezuma’s revenge, of the Yankee Go Home spirit, and of the violence that might be encountered. It took many years and lots of tuna fish to overcome his resistance. He earned his degree, and we had two children.

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Before I proceed, I must make mention of our hobbies. I have always enjoyed hand-crafted silver jewelry, hand-woven fabrics, hand-made patchwork quilts and such. We would look for these things when we traveled, and buy souvenirs within our limited budget. When our children were small, we discovered rocks and minerals as treasures that we could afford, and find for ourselves. Our travel could focus on outdoor trips, meeting people with similar interests, and exploring mines, dumps, and treasures that we could bring home. Each treasure has a history, is beautiful, and recalls to us a specific trip, event, or person.

A friend mentioned that she vacationed at a nice home in the Berkshires, and that, if she told me about it, I should keep it confidential because, once it was known, it would be overrun and useless to her and to us. She told us about the Hiltons in Lenoxdale, MA. They were a wonderful family, and became part of our extended family. Mr. Hilton worked at the paper mill at Crane’s, and Dorothy Hilton, his wife, enlarged the family income by taking visitors, as in modified American Plan. She slept us, fed us two meals, gave us food for picnics when necessary, baby sat. She did all this for forty dollars a week per adult, half price for children over five, and no charge for children under five. We got to know her and her family, and her troubles and their troubles. Until that time, I thought only Jews had troubles. I learned otherwise from the Hiltons. We brought to the Hiltons some of our closest families: Keats, Eugene and Judy, the Setlows, and Murray and Vivian. Murray liked the

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arrangement so well that he took over the place: they spent several summers at the Hiltons. It was easier and cheaper than cooking at home.

Swimming at Laurel Lake, picking blackberries in the back yard, a drive to Friendly’s in Lee were regular activities for us at the Hiltons. Finally we outgrew them. They are gone, and the house has been sold to strangers.

5. Several summers we rented a cottage at Lake Dunmore next to the Chaves’ cottage. These were modest cottages at the lake shore in a community of teachers and professionals from New York City. Frieda and Aaron Chaves had been going there for years, and we joined them for several years. Frieda would prepare a wonderful turkey welcoming dinner for us on the day of our arrival. She was a great cook and very hospitable. Johnny, Seth, Jessica and Judy and the colony of children enjoyed playing at the lakeside, square and folk dancing at night, hiking with Aaron up into the hills, and rock hunting with Martin whenever he could go. Aaron and Martin commuted between work and Dunmore, coming up on Fridays and returning to the city on Sundays. Some weeks they would stay at Dunmore. Aaron and Martin were quite compatible and enjoyed these trips, long as they were. One time each summer we would go out to Dog Team Tavern for a special dinner, with elegantly served appetizers in a rotating server shaped like a Ferris wheel. We felt very special there.

6. One summer, while Martin was still in industry and hoping to move to basic research at a university or institute, we vacationed near Woods Hole so that he could meet scientists there. We did and he did. We spent a week at Buzzard’s Bay, on Great Herring Pond, a short driving distance from Wood’s Hole, where we had an enjoyable time.

7. We majored in farm vacations, where we could get to know people of different backgrounds and life styles, and share in some of their experiences. An organization and publication “Farm Vacations and Holidays” led us to these places.

a. We went a number of times to a Mennonite Farm (The Landis Farm), where we could pick the corn and put it immediately into the pot of boiling water. We were as strange to the Landes Family (and to the other farm vacation families) as they were to us. They were hard working, kind and generous people, deeply religious and fundamentalist is their outlook. They did not attempt to reconcile the real world with their fundamentalist belief. They led us to Hawk Mountain, where Martin picked up a handsome fossil. When he explained the history of the fossil, including its age, I had to nudge him so that he could remember that for Mr. Landis the world was only 5000 years old. Family and friends followed us to the Landis farm, and enjoyed the farm and the friendship of the Landis family much as we had. We think that they sold the farm and moved to Canada. We have not heard from them since.

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b. We visited the Rabel Farm in Gold Creek Montana. We went there twice. That was an experience. One son, about 13, was not able to read, and they asked my advice about him. One daughter was pregnant, having been made so by a neighbor whom they all knew. Mrs. Rabel asked Deb how I occupy my time; city folk were a strange breed to them. And one neighbor, Andrew Beck, beat his wife in front of us. He too was illiterate, but he knew that water was “all”. He bought the water rights up and down Gold Creek, and so had control of all the land there. He was taking his sheep to Chicago to be auctioned and slaughtered, and invited us to ride there with him in the caboose. He had a fearsome temper, and was on the hunt for the rascals who had driven his wife to safe haven about fifty miles away. He did not dare to accuse us, but we never felt quite safe in his presence.

c. We visited Mrs. Muskie in Unity, Maine, who turned out to be the mother of Senator Muskie. She was well over 80 at the time, and running all over the farm to catch her chickens. She was a wonderful baker, and she took us to an interesting egg farm. Senator Muskie dropped in to visit and check up on her. We chatted with the Senator about local reaction to him and his politics. He pointed out that no prophet is valued in his home turf.

8. We then moved into the Imposter period.Blossom and Jack Backal told us they had had a wonderful summer at an NSF Institute in Bozeman, Montana, and they felt that Martin might qualify for admissions to that program. Martin applied, was accepted, and we entered the wonderful world of the west. We traveled by train, and slept sitting up. We were excited to cross the Mississippi River, and were shocked at the sight of the Badlands. They seemed so ugly. By the time of our return trip, we had learned to love them. In Bozeman, we roomed at the quads with other families with children. There we met the Dolkarts, who also lived in Flatbush. For a warm up for the group, the college (U. of Montana) arranged for a bow-shooting contest: Ellen Dolkart won the woman’s contest, and Martin was the best shot in the place!

Martin went to classes and was miserable because he felt like an imposter. He did not know enough and he did not belong there. He studied all the time. I had to explore the turf to get relief from his discomfort. I tracked down the rock clubs, hoping that rockhunting would be a satisfying diversion, and was told our best bet was to call Jesse Green, one of the trustees of the college, who also turned out to have been trained as a chemist, and who now owned and operated his own wheat farm. Martin, under pressure from me, finally called Jesse Green—and formed a lifelong friendship with a man of principle and independence, and yet so different in so many ways from the people we knew.

Jesse Green adopted us. He took us to his homestead (he and his wife had been homesteaders); Mim and Deb rode in the thresher on his

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glorious wheat fields; he introduced us to the wonders of the Missouri River, and led us on many rock hunts. And Martin and he had ongoing political and philosophical discussions. Though our points of view differed, they never interfered with ongoing friendship; and there were many commonalities. We maintained a correspondence until Jesse died. Several years after we first met him, we went back to visit him at his home and his homestead; we stayed for close to a week

On that trip, we visited Yellowstone National Park many times and enjoyed its beauty and its rangers thoroughly.

9. Martin then became an imposter again at an NSF Institute at Fort Lewis A & M College in Durango, Colorado, near the Four Corners. Here we were up on a hill with the other participants and students. Every Friday evening the local Native American group performed some of their ritual and danced. One of their children, about four years old, was a gifted dancer. Here Martin’s discomfort with being an imposter was compounded by his allergic reaction to penicillin and declamycin. After taking a tablet of the latter, he was unable to breathe and went into anaphylactic shock. Fortunately, our neighbors helped, carrying him to Mercy Hospital. “Nursy, nursy, I feel worsey,” was Martin’s refrain. Cortisone and the kindly nursing nuns revived Martin. Believing that we would never come here again, I arranged for us to take a charter flight in a small plane to Monument Valley, where we were well received by Harry Goulding.

Again, we had to seek distractions for all of us, and we found Willie Lobato, a Hispanic pioneer and ranch owner, who took us picnicking to his ranch at Goubernador, to his trout farm, to see his fifty thousand acre ranch surrounded by forty miles of fence, to memorable rock hunts (many of them in his basement and garage), to the Farmington flea market and to Navajo land. We became close friends and when Bobbie, his wife died, and Willie married Jane, our friendship was even closer. It would take a book to tell the story of Willie and our relationship with him.

We also met Don and Shirley Spangsberg then. Don taught at Ft. Lewis A&M, and rock hunted on the side. He guided us to interesting places, and shared some of his polished stones with us. At the NSF Institute, we met Elmer and Irene Rice, chemistry teachers at Riverside in California, and maintained our friendship with them. One year we met them in Moab, and drove with them to the newly created Lake Powell, where we spent two nights in a trailer and explored the lake, the visible petroglyphs and the arches that remained. That was an exciting trip. In Moab, we got to know Edgar Wilcox, the town street cleaner and rock hound, who took us out into the desert. We did not find rocks that day, but we got his wonderful story on a tape that we can’t locate. We did find that he loved Oreo cookies and Root Beer. He could date his lineage back to Winston Churchill through his grandmother’s sister, and beyond that all is clear back to creation.

We went back to that institute another year, and then visited the Lobatos many times.

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I should mention that Ezra traveled with us on one of our trips to Durango. That year we visited the Hopi villages; in the middle village we looked for Elizabeth White. We found her, she looked us over, and invited us to spend the night in her home. That evening her dinner table was graced, in addition to the four Popes and Ezra, by an anthropologist from the U. of Arizona, and by Chief Jim of the Hopis, about 90 years old. Conversation at the table was fascinating. After dinner we went to the back yard, where the sky was clear and the stars were bright. Deb and Miriam played easily with the Native American children in the back garden. It was a memorable visit.

4610. In 1962, Amador Cobas, Professor of Physics at the U. of Puerto Rico,

invited Martin to help them set up a model physics program in his field. This heralded the beginning of many visits to P.R., including a sabbatical for Martin there. I commuted from Coney Island Hospital to P.R. during that sabbatical. There we sublet the apartment of Prof. Jesus Tharrats in the El Monte Apartment Building in Rio Piedras; it was a lovely apartment on the 14th floor. When the electricity was down and the water did not pump, it was important to remember that it was the 14th floor. Judy and Ronald Selsby lived in the same project, across the street, and were most hospitable. Ronald had been hired by the Physics Dept. at Martin’s recommendation. There we were also well received by other staff members, whose names escape me for the moment. In P.R., Martin suffered from dizzy spells and was hospitalized there at Presbyterian Hospital. He came out all right, and made close friends with Sergio Irizarry. From whom, incidentally, we have not heard for some time now.As I am proofreading this, Ronald called to invite Martin to speak at the University of Puerto Rico, and enjoy the island again. I doubt that we will go.

11. One day Martin got a call from El Sayed, asking him to teach a course in Alexandria. Martin thought he meant Virginia—but no, he meant Egypt.So to Egypt we went, probably the first Jews during that difficult period. He taught well, and I visited schools. I don’t know whether they were able to make use of what he taught.

12. Mendel Cohen invited Martin to lecture at the Weitzmann Institute, which he did for a week or so one year. That was our wonderful trip to Israel.

13. Then came the invitation from Lo Renyuan Qian to teach a course in Electronic Processes in Organic Crystals in Beijing. This was 1978. No one knew what China was like. Martin was the first Caucasian to be invited to give a course at the Chinese Academy of Sciences since the revolution. Our diary for the trip is in another volume.

14. A visit to Poland and to Riga, Latvia, including stops in Moscow, Leningrad and Kiev was one of our summer trips. This visit gave us a chance to visit Kant, whom we had not ever met.

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15. I have skipped our four week trip to Japan with our daughters, where Mitsuhashi took off from work so that he could show us around, and where, at the conference, they took the participants to a geisha house and we, innocently, went along.

16. Martin insisted on attending Professor Ely’s retirement banquet in Nottingham. Perhaps on that trip, or one of the other visits to England, we then traveled to Aberystwyth in Wales, shepherded by Sir John Meurig Thomas, who was at that time plain Professor John Thomas.

17. Gordon Conferences in New Hampshire were a must, and Martin refused to go without me. So I went to a large number of them, and worked hard at the one that Martin organized. He brought many Russians here for that conference, and I was pressed to arrange food, shelter and transportation for these scientists who had never been outside of the Soviet Union. I did. I never stopped complaining about the treatment of spouses at these conferences, and finally, at the conference in 2000, I was invited to address the group on the subject. If you beg me, I will attach a copy of my speech with the addenda to these Memories.

18. Nova Scotia was a several-time destination. On our first trip, we followed the footsteps of someone who had written up the trip for the National Geographic. In particular, we photographed the tides coming in and going out usimg time-lapse photography on a movie camera. We also hunted rocks and bought a beautiful patchwork quilt. We went a number of times after that, invited by Judy Pelletier; Canadians are friendly, welcoming and good hosts.

19. We visited Yugoslavia because I wanted to see how Tito satisfied both the East and the West. Apparently he did not, but the visit was interesting. We brought home a wooden spinning wheel.

20. Our visit to Alaska, though only a few days during which I presented a workshop on Teaching Reading, was memorable. We have great pictures.

21. Norway was memorable as well because we crossed mountains that were infrequently crossed, finally arrived at the top of a fjord, wended our way down, and arrived at a pension that we had given up hopes of getting to. As we approached, a gentleman came out to welcome us. It was Eugene! By chance, he and Judy had come to the same pension at the same time.

22. Munich was a regular for Martin. He would go there to confer with Prof. Kallmann. Deb and I joined him one year at a conference.

23. Italy. We went there several times and enjoyed the archaeological sights, but never warmed up to Italy as do most tourists. Our memories of Italy are clouded by our experience in Naples when we were on our way to Capri. The Neapolitan Mafia attacked our car, broke the windshield on the passenger side, grabbed my purse, and ran off. The most interesting part was the day we spent in the police station reporting the mess.

24. I have omitted some trips, and neglected to detail many of the things I remember. If you need more details, you may find them in our travel notes that are wandering about in the files. Or you may ask me.

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47Eugene and I shared friends, mainly his friends: All poor, all idealistic. We

had lots of political and philosophical discussions, and enjoyed so many events in Prospect Park, particularly the Goldman Band. In addition, my brothers and I would travel to Manhattan to visit the book stalls on Fourth Avenue, and sights such as the Empire State Building and the 42nd Street Library. Eugene had golden hands, and liked to experiment with tools and apparatuses. He took sun pictures and printed them; he took photos with a Brownie camera, and developed the film and printed the pictures. He mixed chemicals in the bathroom with the boy cousins. Together they tickled me during family get-togethers. He and Leon terrorized me after we heard The Witch’s Tale on the radio one evening a week. We went to the movies together, and to Walter Davenport’s Free Theatre. Together we crashed Broadway theatre during intermissions, and together we sat in on post-performance discussions of art’s impact on the world.

After high school, the family could not afford to support two children in college. I stayed at college because I was too young for employment. Eugene did not have to seek employment elsewhere. The store and Pop’s work needed his services, and this job was a natural for him.

We were not affluent, nor were we Dead End Kids. We were aware of the social, political and economic problems that faced us, and we had a sense of the social graces in which we needed instruction. Dining out meant Chinese lunch for forty-nine cents. Learning to dance was an important goal. It was a tool for meeting people. But we could not afford Arthur Murray (“Arthur Murray taught me dancing in a hurry”) or Roseland. The living room was our dance floor. Eugene and I danced with brooms to the playing of the Victrola, and then with each other. We did learn to dance.

. Eugene went out with several girls who were very much interested in making permanent arrangements with him. Martin went back to graduate school, A girl in the laboratory asked him did he know anyone who could attend a concert with her that weekend; she had a ticket to spare and did not want to waste it. The rest is history.

Eugene and Judy were married the next year, and their marriage has been a very good one. We had a home-party old-fashioned wedding reception to celebrate their marriage. Unfortunately, Judy’s parents missed the celebration. From this union came David, Peter and Anne, as well as their progeny.

Selina, Judy’s mother, finally learned to appreciate Eugene fully: he was responsible, devoted to Judy, to her, and to their children, and he brought his tools every time he visited. He was a pro at changing light bulbs. What more could a mother-in-law want?

When Pop and Mom were ill, and in their last months, Eugene and Judy shared discussions and responsibility with me at all times, even though they had already emigrated to Washington

Eugene entered the computer world early, in the days of keypunch and Univac. He worked for the Board of Education, and then for various other outfits ; he abandoned all of them to join Judy in Washington, where he moved his career to

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a different level. Here he taught, sharing his expertise on the computer with young people who were entering the field. As a matter of fact, he had also taught while he was still in New York—evening classes at one of the colleges downtown. One of our favorite family stories is about how I, knowing nothing about computers, covered a class for him one evening when a conflicting appointment kept him away from class.

Eugene’s extra-curricular activities were all in the service of society. His contributions were extensive, and I can list only a few, but they show who he was. During the Vietnam War, Eugene counseled young men on how to avoid conscription; he campaigned with vigor for candidates who would honestly represent the people of their districts; he consulted and set up computer systems for worthy organizations in need, and for organizations representing third world countries for whom these systems were essential, and he helped guide and support seniors (many of them from minorities) into the twenty-first century by teaching them how to deal with the computer and with e-mail.

He never stopped working with his tools, making repairs, fashioning wooden plates, keeping the car in tip-top condition. He never stopped smiling, joking, or playing with children.

These are only a few of my memories of him

AND NOW, LEON

I think Leon will be easier. From infancy on, it was clear that Leon was artistically inclined. If he struck the piano keys with his elbow, a beautiful musical chord sprang out. If he ziggle-zaggled a crayon on paper, the ziggle-zaggle was beautiful And his choice of words was impressive: his vocabulary was advanced and poetic.

Our family did not know of poets and artists and musicians, though they were present in other branches. Our family recognized butchers, plumbers, carpenters—people with visible, marketable skills.

Leon did well at school. After high school, he wanted artistic instruction. Mom and Pop did not limit him, though they did not really understand. Lee went to the Art Institute for a while, and then into the army, I believe. After the army, the G.I. Bill of Rights allowed him to attend the Art Institute of Chicago, where his artistic skill and techniques were honed, and where he made lifelong friends:.

Leon always made friends easily, and he still does. His friends are very fond of him, which is quite proper.

Then Leon met and married Norma. Leon eked out a living with his art, and gained fame because he had a regular spot for ten years in Playboy; they liked his cherubic ladies. With a fine resume, a good recommendation, and a bit of luck, Leon was appointed Professor at the U. of Virginia in Richmond. By this time, he and Norma had four beautiful children: Sylvia, Barbara, Maralyn and Nathan, with four distinctive personalities. They are, naturally, all very bright.

They almost became dyed-in-the-wool Southerners, but they were saved by the bell that called Leon to teach at the University of Illinois, Chicago campus. They

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came back north and settled in Evanston, where they remained for many years, and where Leon was very productive.

Leon is a hero. He does not complain about the myriad illnesses that have descended on him and limited his artistic production. I have no desire to list the illnesses, but I admire his fortitude in producing artistically, despite his handicaps, and in continuing to make and maintain friendships as the years go by.

101Can You Really Help? What Do These Students Need? On the simplest and most compelling level, children, adolescents and adults who have failed to learn need to know someone who listens to them, has confidence in them, and treats them with courtesy, respect, and appreciation. They need to know someone who understands that a thirst for knowledge, the ability to work in order to learn, and, in many cases, the ability to control oneself are more immediately important than getting regular haircuts or dressing in a suit and tie. They need an instructor who has the time to focus on them. They need encouragement to develop skills and inspiration to use them. To build a positive relationship with the student, the instructor needs to be respectful, kind, consistent and honest. His time and his undivided attention whenever possible, are precious gifts to the student. By offering solid support in the areas in which the student lacks skills, the instructor can build a firm foundation for the student’s success. Rather than saying that he will “teach the student to read”, it is more helpful for the instructor to say “he will try to help her learn”. In this way, the student can take full credit for her accomplishment.

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APPENDIX

A. The Journey of Isaak Bellin, by Deborah PopePage 8 is missing.

B. Family Trees1. Chusid Family Tree Developed in 1988 by Mimi Diamond, printed by

David Chusid.2. Krasnostein/Chusid Family Tree Compiled by Lillie, informed by

Annie3. Bellin Family Tree Compiled by Lillie

Note: None of the above have been brought up to date (2002).C. Lillie’s Curriculum VitaeD. My invitational lecture at the Gordon Conference, 2000

Note to Family Members: The Appendix has not been computerized. For those of you who import this document by e-mail and wish to or need to have a copy of the Appendix, please send me a self-addressed 9 x 12 envelope, and I will mail a photocopy to you. I will pay for postage, but I appreciate your assistance in self-addressing the envelope.

For those of you who do not have e-mail, and wish to read my memories, please arrange to read someone else’s e-mail version of the document.

Again, these are only a few of my memories. I would like very much to see a record of your memories.

Lillie

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BLOG 102, 103 AUTOBIO

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debt Activist

Several weeks ago I was one of twenty women honored with the Clara Lemlich Award, as part of the Triangle Fire commemoration, as women who have spent their years trying to make the world a better place. IT WAS A MOVING EXPERIENCE, and a fine tribute to the women, who ranged in age from perhaps seventy to ninety-seven. In the autobiography that I prepared for the program, I focused on my lifelong work in fighting illiteracy, which enslaves people, particularly women. This is what I wrote:

LILLIE POPE Pioneer in Special Education, with focus on Literacy, Learning and Reading

Disabilities Founding Director of the earliest Learning Center as part of the Mental

Health Service at a public hospital Author of books and producer of films to guide in prevention and

remediation of learning problems Facilitator of thousands of grants for programs that encourage literacy

EDUCATIONB. A., Hunter College, 1937M. S. in Education, C.C.N.Y., 1941.Ph. D., New York University, 1969

As Educational Director and Vice-President of the Ezra Jack Keats Foundation, Dr. Lillie Pope has since 1983 facilitated thousands of programs in schools and public libraries in the 50 states by providing grants for programs that encourage literacy, creativity, and joy in learning. She is a noted leader and led campaigns for, and effected significant changes for teachers and students in the vocational high schools of New York City. During her professional career as a teacher, she was elected to the office of Vice President of the Vocational High School Teachers Association as well as to the office of Vice President of the Teachers Union. In the 1940s, equipment was lacking for effective teaching, class sizes were abnormally large, and trade teachers taught eight periods daily compared to their academic colleagues who carried a five period daily load. Her efforts led to reduced class sizes and teaching loads, and to improved equipment in the shop classes.

She left the public school system in 1952 and earned a Ph. D. in Educational Psychology at New York University. After several years as an Educational Psychologist in a hospital setting, she pioneered in establishing the first Learning Center in a mental health setting in this country (and arguably in the world) for students with learning problems. A mental health setting is important because emotional problems often interfere with learning and, conversely, difficulty in learning causes emotional problems. Her center served as a model for many that followed. She worked closely with the schools, guiding teachers, paraprofessionals, volunteers and parents in how to help their students become readers.

Working in an impoverished area in Coney Island, she employed and trained neighborhood women to assist in this work; the beneficial impact on them, as on the children whom they served, was enormous. A number of these women went back to school and gained careers in education. While there, she employed the Bread and Puppet Theatre as part of the therapeutic program for children served by the clinic. She retired from the

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mental health center as Associate Chief of Child Psychiatry. Dr. Pope, Diplomate in School Psychology, has served as a consultant to educational and mental health agencies, and as Adjunct Professor at Brooklyn College and New York University.

She has published many books, as well as papers in professional journals, and her speaking engagements and workshops have been numerous. Importantly, she was the Keynote Speaker at the International Conference of the United Electrical Workers; her address was published as a pamphlet by the United Electrical Workers and also translated into Spanish, as a guide to the workers on how to understand and deal with the learning problems of their children.

Dr. Pope was founding director of the New Theatre of Brooklyn, an Obie award-winning theatre located in Brooklyn.

Her published material (books, tests, and papers), as well as the instructional films that she produced reside in the archives of the Tamiment Library at New York University,

HONORS AND AWARDS:

HONOREE, ERIC CARLE MUSEUM OF CHILDRENS PICTURE BOOK ILLUSTRATIONS, 2007, FOR INNOVATIVE AND EFFECTIVE SUPPORT OF CHILDREN’S LITERATURE

HUNTER COLLEGE HALL OF FAME, 1997

MARY HORNBY AWARD FOR DISTINGUISHED CONTRIBUTIONS IN THE FIELD OF LEARNING DISABILITIES, Atlantic Conf. for Learning Disabilities, 1981.

Council for Exceptional Children, Outstanding Service Award, 1990

Fellowship, National Institute of Mental Health, 1966-67.

Diagnosis and Remediation Project, District 21, Bd. Of Education, under Title 1, ESEA, 1967-68, 1968-69, 1969-70.

Parent-Tutor Project, District 21, Bd. Of Ed., under State Urban Education Act, 1968-69, 1969-70, 1970-71.

Strengthening Early Childhood Program and Teacher Training Program, District 21, Bd. of Ed., 1971-72, 1972-73, 1973-74.

CERTIFICATIONDiplomate, School Psychology, A.B.P.P.Psychologist, New York State #3742

MEMBERSHIP IN PROFESSIONAL ORGANIZATIONSAmerican Psychological AssociationInternational Reading AssociationAssociation for Children with Learning DisabilitiesOrton SocietyCouncil for Exceptional Children

PROFESSIONAL EXPERIENCE9/90—Present Consultant, Literacy, Reading, Education9/65 – 9/96 Founding Director of Psycho-Educational Center

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Coney Island Hospital, Brooklyn New YorkProgram: Learning Disabilities and Reading Clinic

Schools Consultation Program Teacher Training, Training of Paraprofessionals

9/90 - 9/96 Associate Chief, Child Psychiatry, Coney Island Hospital2/64 – 9/65 Director, Bureau of Instruction and Training, JOIN

(a New York City anti-poverty agency designed to rehabilitate school dropouts between the ages of 16 and 21)

1959 – 1964 Program Coordinator and Psychologist, Day Treatment Center,Infants Home, (pre-school for emotionally disturbed children).

1954 – 1963 Psychologist, Division of Pediatric Psychiatry,Brooklyn Jewish Hospital

1956 – 1962 Remedial Psychologist, Foster-Care Division.Jewish Child Care Association

1937 – 1947 Teacher, New York City Public Schools1947 Elected Vice-President, New York Teachers Union1940 – 1947 Chair, Vocational Committee, Teachers Unionl939 Vice-President, Vocational High School Teachers Association

ACADEMIC APPOINTMENTS:

1972 – 1974 Adjunct Professor, Brooklyn College of City Univ. of N.Y.1968 – 1972 Adjunct Associate Professor, New York University

CONSULTANTSHIPS AND SPECIAL PROGRAMS:

Charter Member of Advisory Board, Mary McDowell Center for Learning,outstanding Brooklyn School for Children with Learning Problems; served for ten years and succeeded in having the school named after Mary McDowell, her teacher and a courageous anti-war Quaker activist..

Consultant in Planning a Vocational High School for the Handicapped,Division of the Handicapped, New York City Board of Education

Member, Advisory Boards, National Affiliation for Literacy Advancement (NALA); Early Childhood Program, Kingsborough Community College; High School for Career Development.

Charter Member, Board of Directors, National Council for Assistance to Classroom Teachers (NCACT).

New York University Training Consultant for Head-Start Programs, 1968-1969.

Consultant for Head Start, Anti-Poverty and Special Education Programs.

Member, Editorial Advisory Board, Teaching Exceptional Children.

BOOKS:1. Pope, L., Guidelines for Teaching Remedial Reading to the Disadvantaged,

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Book-Lab, Inc., Brooklyn, N.Y., 1967, second edition, 1975.

2. Jedrysek, E., Klapper, Z., Pope, L. and Wortis, J., Psycho-Educational Evaluation of the Pre-School Child, Grune and Stratton, N.Y., 1972(Also in Spanish and Italian).

3. Pope, L. (Ed.) Issues in Urban Education and Mental Health, Book-Lab. Inc., Brooklyn, N. Y., 1974.

4. Pope, L., Edel, D., and Haklay, A., Tutor’s Sampler, Book-Lab, Inc., Brooklyn, N. Y., 1973.

5. Pope, L., Tutor, a Handbook for Tutorial Programs, Book-Lab Inc., Brooklyn, N.Y. 1976.

6. Pope, L., The L.D. Glossary: A Practical Guide to the Language and Terminology Used in Learning Disabilities and Related Areas, Book-Lab, Inc. Brooklyn, NY., 1976.

7 .Pope, L., Sight Words for the Seventies, Book-Lab, Inc.,Brooklyn, N.Y., 1974.

8. Pope, L. and Dinola, A., Pope-Dinola Word Bank, New Directions Press, Newton, N.J., 1977.

9. Pope, L., Edel, D., and Haklay, A.,Teacher’s Sampler, Book-Lab, Inc., Brooklyn, N. Y., 1978.

10.Pope, L., Edel, D., and Haklay, A., Special Needs, Special Answers, Book-Lab, Inc. Brooklyn, N.Y., 1979.

11.Pope, L., Guidelines for Teaching Children with Learning Problems, Book- Lab, Inc., Brooklyn, N.Y., 1982

12. Pope, L., Word Play: A Dictionary of Idioms, Book-Lab, Inc., Brooklyn, N.Y., 1998.

13. Pope, L., Teach Anyone to Read: The No-Nonsense Guide, EJK Publishing, Brooklyn, N.Y., 2008

TESTS AND INSTRUMENTS FOR EVALUATION

PEB: Psycho-Educational Battery, Book-Lab., Inc., Brooklyn, NY 1976.

Inventory of Reading Skills, Book-Lab., Inc., Brooklyn, NY, 1974.

TAPES

Introductory Course in Learning Disabilities, a five session taped course, Book-Lab, Inc., Brooklyn, NY, 1976.

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FILMS AND VIDEOTAPES

All for One – Tutorial Highlights, Single Concepts, Inc., Union City, New Jersey, 1973

Let’s Look at Sounding Out, Single Concepts, Inc., Union City, New Jersey, 1973.

Evaluation for Educational Planning, Video-Time Productions, New York, 1976. Ten Module Tutorial in Reading Instruction for Volunteers. Lilrob Productions, NY 1972, Revised 1992.

PUBLISHED PAPERS: 32

LABOR/ARTS BIO 2/29/11LILLIE POPE . I was born in June, 1918, five months before the end of World War I, the war to end all wars. My parents were Jewish immigrants from the Ukraine who came to this country so that their children might have the economic, social and educational opportunities not available to them in Russia. I wanted to learn—to learn everything--philosophy, mathematics, science, the arts, culture. During my early years, I developed a passion for reading, for the book, for the printed word as a path to freedom and power, to an appreciation of history, and to pleasure.

It was the time of the Great Depression. I was graduated from high school at the age of 15, and could not get a paid job at that time. The city colleges charged no fees, and they trained me for a long, active and varied career—all focused on my passion for fighting illiteracy to provide opportunities for freedom for all people.

I taught in the city high schools for ten years. I taught students who had never held a telephone in their hands, and who had never been inside a live theater. Who were expected to learn to type in a class of 44, with only 10 typewriters in the room. I fought for equipment, for smaller class size, for a more equitable staff teaching load, and eventually won each battle. I fought injustice at every level, in the classroom and in the world. My parents had instilled in me confidence and courage; both were necessary.

I established a world-renowned Learning Center at Coney Island Hospital, where I trained parent volunteers from the community (often functionally illiterate themselves) to tutor children in the schools. The results were gratifying and were even reported in the Japanese press. I continued this work as director of an organization devoted to fighting illiteracy and stimulating love of learning in children.

Illiteracy imprisons the world, and is a weapon used by the powerful to control the masses. In the days of slavery in the US, it was a criminal offense to teach slaves how to read. The Taliban in Afghanistan does not permit women to learn to read. And here until recently (and perhaps even now) girls are expected to get married and not continue their education.

I was the keynote speaker at the United Electrical Workers Union annual meeting in 1978, and received a standing ovation from the international membership, so many of whom were concerned about the reading skills of their own children. I have spread my word through many lectures, published a number of papers and books, sharing instruction in simple language (no jargon); and treating the teacher/tutor/volunteer with respect and kindness

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I was inducted into the Hunter College Hall of Fame in 1997. The results of my work have been rewarding. Illiteracy has not been eradicated, but I take credit for having made a dent in it. My latest writing is TEACH ANYONE TO READ: THE NO NONSENSE GUIDE summarizing my philosophy and the techniques I support.

And here I am, 93 years later, after many more wars, celebrating that the sun continues to shine, that we continue to fight for right and for freedom for all people—and still retain our sense of humor.

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During my early years, I developed a passion for reading, for the book, for the printed word as a path to freedom and power, to an appreciation of history, and for pleasure.

The city colleges charged no fees; they trained me for a long, active and varied career—all focused on my passion for fighting illiteracy to provide opportunities for freedom for all people.

I taught in the city high schools for ten years. I taught students who had never held a telephone in their hands, and who had never been inside a live theater. Who were expected to learn to type in a class of 44, with only 10 typewriters in the room. I fought for equipment, for smaller class size, for a more equitable staff teaching load, and eventually won each battle. I fought injustice at every level, in the classroom and in the world. My parents had instilled in me confidence and courage; both were necessary.

I established a world-renowned Learning Center at Coney Island Hospital, where I trained parent volunteers from the community (often functionally illiterate themselves) to tutor children in the schools. The results were gratifying and were even reported in the Japanese press. I continued this work as director of an organization devoted to fighting illiteracy and stimulating love of learning in children.


. I have spread my word through many lectures, published a number of papers and books, sharing instruction in simple language (no jargon); and treating the teacher/tutor/volunteer with respect and kindness

. Illiteracy has not been eradicated, but I take credit for having made a dent in it. My latest writing is TEACH ANYONE TO READ: THE NO NONSENSE GUIDE summarizing my philosophy and the techniques I support. I must also point out that I am a union maid Who never was afraid Of goons and finks and Company finks Who

And here I am, 93 years later, after many more wars, celebrating that the sun continues to shine, that we continue to fight for right and for freedom for all people—and still retain our sense of humor.

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NON PROFIT ORGANIZATIONS LINE UP E-BOOKS TO BATTLE ILLITERACY

The Ezra Jack Keats Foundation, a non-profit organization whose mission is to fight illiteracy and to stimulate pleasure in learning for children, is about to add e-books to its canon of children’s picture books written and illustrated by Ezra Jack Keats, whose book THE SNOWY DAY 50 years ago introduced the Afro-American child into mainstream children’s literature. Through the years, this book has built self-esteem and love of learning in countless young children, who were formerly ignored in literature.

“The time has come,” says Dbrah Pope,…” to exploit modern technology to help our children learn to read and to love learning. The e-book can be very helpful in that struggle. And it will not replace the printed book.” The Foundation seeks to develop in each child a passion for reading, for the book, for the printed word as a path to freedom and power, to an appreciation of history, and for pleasure. Fighting illiteracy provides opportunities for freedom for all people


Vice President of the Foundation, Dr. LilliePope, established a world-renowned Learning Center at Coney Island Hospital, where she trained parent volunteers from the community (often functionally illiterate themselves) to tutor children in the schools. The results were gratifying and were even reported in the Japanese press..First to be published by the Foundation on e=books are

GOD IS IN THE MOUNTAIN, by Keats a simple and beautiful depiction of…….,andMAGGIE AND THE PIRATE, by Keats, a tale placed in the Southwestern U.S., also with few wordsTo assist the parent, the volunteer, the tutor, and the teacher who sits with the child who is learning to read, the Foundation is also making available on Google books the entire text ofTEACH ANYONE TO READ: A The? NO NONSENSE GUIDE

sharing HANDS-ON instruction in simple language (no jargon); and treating the parent/teacher/tutor/volunteer with respect and kindness. This book is a “must” for those seeking to understand the reading process, and looking for tools to assist them/The book is available on Google (url;……) and may be downloaded completely or in sections—at no charge.Hard copies, bound, are available from Atlas.books. com, or wherever quality books are sold.

BLOG 104

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OPEN SESAME: Diary of an Official Invitation and Visit to China in 1978

--Just after the Cultural Revolution --After Mao --The Gang of Four Exposed --With an Epilogue of a Visit in 1988

SUMMARY and OVERVIEWof our Observations and Impressions on our Trip to China in 1978

Pages 1-3 IntroductionMartin was invited, in the spring of 1978, by the Chinese Academy of Sciences to

give a course on Electronic Processes in Organic Crystals at the Institute of Chemistry in Beijing to a group of 50 scientists from all over China. The invitation was unexpected and overwhelming. China was an unknown to this country at that time. Richard Nixon had made his first visit to China in 1972, but China was still

unknown.

Martin responded that he could not travel to China without his wife. They then invited Lillie as well. They wanted him to teach the subject in two weeks, and then they would host us on a visit to the rest of China for two more weeks. Martin said he could not compress the subject into a two-week course; they compromised on four weeks of teaching, plus that two-week visit.

Martin was the first non-Asian invited since the Revolution to give a complete course at the Beijing Institute of Chemistry. Many years later it emerged that approximately five years before Martin received this invitation, the Institute of Chemistry had proposed that he be invited to lecture; this was during the Cultural Revolution, and the request was not granted at that time.

Martin then settled down to prepare for the course. He prepared a book: a condensation of the first volume of the book he was preparing for Clarendon Press. Learning that equipment in China was limited, we purchased and carried with us an overhead projector, plus acetates and sundry materials that would facilitate the lecturing, and that we would then present as a gift to the Institute of Chemistry/Academy of Science.

Lillie, working at the Learning Clinic at Coney Island Hospital, asked the children there to draw pictures as greetings to the children of China. Faculty Press assembled these messages into two handsome posters that we took with us, and shared with those we visited. We also carried the book, The Snowy Day, with a Chinese translation.

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We sought guidance from those who had visited China before us. We could locate very few. I (Lillie) spoke to someone at Yale and also in Washington D.C. who urged me to attempt to revisit any school or center to which I was taken as a visitor. Despite the expressed hospitality of the teachers and staff, no one had ever been permitted to return to a visited facility after the first impressive visit.

The Gang of Four had just been exposed. The Cultural Revolution was on its way out.It was a turning point in the history of China.

Several people gave us addresses of friends and relatives whom we might call and/or visit. This we did.

We carried a small tape recorder on which to log our activities, experiences, impressions on this trip. This was our diary. On the following pages are the first typewritten transcript of those tapes, typos and all.

China, after a thirty year period of self-containment and self-reliance, shows dramatic contrasts with its feudal past in its present freedom from hunger, disease, prostitution, drug abuse, unemployment and illiteracy, and in the improved status of women and of medical care. In its new course of rapid modernization in agriculture, science and technology, industry and defense, China is rejecting its former isolation, and seeks equality with the advanced countries.

Within weeks after announcing its new policy of reaching out to the West in its drive for modernization, my husband was invited to present a graduate course in solid state physics by the Academia Sinica Institute of Chemistry at Peking. He and I were in China for six weeks in August and September of 1978. As an educational psychologist with extensive experience in literacy training, and in special education and learning disabilities, I visited institutions and met with professionals in psychology, education and child development. An interpreter accompanied me on all my visits.

Our visit gave us a bird’s eye view of China in transition; people were now revealing the negative aspects of the Cultural Revolution: the anti-intellectualism, the McCarthy like atmosphere, the physical destruction of school equipment and buildings, the stifling of education and research, the requirement that people pay daily obeisance to a large picture of Chairman Mao in the presence of their coworkers. People were looking forward to the normalization of relations with the United States, who, from the Chinese point of view, “Know all the answers.”

Some of our observations modify those reported by earlier visitors, who visited during the very period now described as chaotic and repressive, but to whom an incomplete picture was apparently shown. Certainly I was not able to observe a complete picture; my report is based on what I saw and heard ..

I was impressed by the affability, the contentment, the peaceful and pleasant demeanor of the people in the streets, at their work, in the parks, in the stores—everywhere. Their honesty, courtesy and well-mannered bearing were impressive as well.

I found Chinese people to be hopeful about the future of their country; their expectations were clear, and their daily decisions seemed few. Incongruous with their hopefulness about the future was their acceptance of the inevitability of war. I visited two segments of the “underground city” at Peking, the network of air raid shelters that will eventually be able to house four million persons; digging these tunnels is part of everyday life for many citizens.

Few decisions are necessary in relation to food, clothing, housing, work and leisure. Since refrigeration is still generally unavailable, food must be purchased, prepared and consumed daily; although “take-home” foods are being introduced, the preparation of meals consumes much daily time. Clothing is simple and informal; I found it attractive, despite the limited variety.

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Housing is in short supply, and quite crowded; in Peking I was told that each person is allotted four square meters of space in an apartment. Although there is much construction and many new workers residences have been built, families tend to live near where one or both parents work, and not to move frequently. Sometimes husbands and wives are assigned to different job locations for long periods of time.

Couples are encouraged to have no more than two children; to some extent family planning may be facilitated by the lack of privacy in crowded housing and by the geographical separation of couples as well as by the general cultural deemphasis of sex as a primary motivating force.

Under conditions of full employment, each person is assured of job security, and of retirement pension at 70% or more of regular pay.

Leisure time activities include cinema, the performing arts, exercising, sports, visits to parks and museums, reading, study groups, and “people watching.” The stability of daily life is evident in each of these aspects of living.

In contrast to the simple attire of the adults, the children wear colorful clothing. At the time of our visit, dresses were just being introduced for women; most wore slacks, and the more adventurous wore dresses. Adults use no makeup and no jewelry. Little girls wore bright dresses. When the kindergarten children presented programs of song and dance to us, they were highly rouged ,and wore jewelry in addition to the bright and colorful costumes. It is interesting to note that the adults provide for the children the bright and glittering make-up, jewelry and costumes that they themselves do not have.

EGALITARIANISM. FAITH AND STRESSThe people are idealistic. China has a commitment to the ideal of egalitarianism.

Everyone works hard, and there is no great visible discrepancy in living standards and in material possessions within the population.

The purpose of the Cultural Revolution was to provide a more egalitarian spirit by cutting down the hierarchical structure; I was told that to a large extent it did that, though we, as invited guests, were accorded unusually regal hospitality. The work of all people is viewed as being equally valuable, including those who might be considered in this country to be doing menial labor; all are doing important work to build Socialism. The schools make a determined effort to build and maintain positive attitudes to manual labor. During the Cultural Revolution, the schools fostered egalitarianism by grouping students heterogeneously, and ignoring individual differences. Now, with the premium being placed on science, the ideal of egalitarianism will be tested. Yet, at the moment, the feeling for it is impressive.

The people express dedication to, faith and confidence in their leaders. A director of a school told me that, in leading her school, she would do what the party tells her; Chairman Mao was quoted repeatedly on any subject under discussion. I heard three and four year old children in the nursery school sing “I love Chairman Hua.” When I questioned the air and noise pollution in Peking, I was told, “It will be taken care of. It is under discussion,” with confidence that the leadership will take care of each of these problems.

All are committed to a common goal, the building of Socialism; we traveled vast distances, accompanied by two scientific counterparts; wherever we traveled, they met strangers with whom they felt kinship and warmth because they shared common goals. This was enviable.

In direct contrast to the confidence and security expressed now is the stress attributed by teachers, scientists and other professionals to the time of the Cultural Revolution. Denounced as enemies of Socialism, they were uprooted, removed from their intellectual milieu and thrust into work and living environments with which they lacked experience, and to which many had difficulty adjusting. Confusion about goals, educational chaos, dislocation from families, and a generally repressive atmosphere created great stress, despite the fact that economic security was not threatened during that period. Each continued to receive his regular salary, no matter where

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one worked, or whether one worked. An excess of destructive criticism seemed to have created strain, combined with little opportunity for dissent.

SCHOOLSThe schools are traditional and highly structured. Children sit with their hands behind

their backs. To “raise their hands”, their elbows remain close to the body and they move only the lower arm. When called upon, they stand erect with their arms stiffly at their sides. The class often responds in unison. The furniture is fixed to the floor; the window is at the left of the students.

The children who emerge from these classes seem content; they are spontaneous and energetic. Children in the pre-school program are superbly accomplished in their manual dexterity and in group singing and dancing. They are relaxed, poised and well-spoken. Students in the primary school seem to learn the 3 R’s very well. Though classes are large, with as many as 50 students, the visitor is impressed by the calm of the classroom, the excellent acquisition of skills, the eagerness of the students to learn, the dedication and warmth of the teachers, and the meagerness of the equipment.

SPECIAL PROBLEMSVisitors in the past have noted the absence of hyperactive, disruptive or deviant behavior

in the classrooms they visited or in the community. As though ready for visitors, the classes that I visited were letter perfect. There was seldom an incorrect answer. Children were teacher-directed, even in the playground, except for recess time when the children were relaxed, spontaneous and a pleasure to watch. As I was conducted through the primary school workshop where children made chess sets as part of their manual labor training, they worked quietly and efficiently, with no sound other than that of the machines. Fortunately, several times I wandered by chance into a playground or a school that was unprepared for or unaccustomed to visitors. In one such playground, I happily saw free play in contrast to a teacher dominated circle game. In these less frequently visited pre-school classrooms, the paper folding was less precise, though adequate. And as I passed outside of the chess making workshop and glanced in through the window, the children seemed relaxed as they made their chess pieces, and I could hear the low hum of childrens’ voices as they worked, in contrast to the unnatural silence when I, the foreign visitor, was in the room.

As for the reports of no difficult behavior in the classroom, I was now told that during the time of the Gang of Four, children misbehaved much of the time, and many teachers lost control of their classes. During my visit, mention was made to me of one school in which there was now a special class for disruptive children, including those with behavior problems and those who did not do their homework. In another school, it was reported to me that now children who misbehave or are inattentive are sent to the principal, or suspended for a day.

I observed several restless children in the classrooms that I visited, and was told of hyperactive children and those with behaviors such that might be labeled Learning Disabled. I do not know how typical these situations are, but it was reassuring to hear and observe individual variations in classroom behavior.

In the community, we saw barbed wire protecting a small balcony on a first floor corner apartment in a housing development. On questioning the use of barbed wire, we were told it was used to keep “naughty children” from entering and hurting the flowers on the balcony.

The only special education facility that I visited was the School for the Deaf in Peking. I saw no left-handed children; all are trained to be “righties.” When I urged faculty at the

Peking Teachers University to reconsider this practice of shifting handedness, and pointed out that we find that such shifting creates problems, one faculty member explained that they find two cases of left-handedness. In one case, the child is imitating another “lefty”; in such cases, it is important to teach the child to use his right hand. Then there is the case of the child who is

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naturally left handed; in that case, she agreed that that they should reconsider their practice of shifting handedness.

CLASSROOM PROCEDURES AND MATERIALSIn the early childhood classes, children are given no choice of what to do; all activities

are teacher directed, be they games, dancing, presentation programs, paper folding, clay molding, painting. I did not observe children playing on the floor, as we are accustomed to seeing here. I saw no activities in which several responses might be equally acceptable. Children have many models from which to copy in dancing, singing, art and crafts. In art, they acquire impressive skills in draftsmanship, perspective and realistic drawing. Their books show examples of kindness and cooperative behavior. It is expected that children behave kindly and cooperatively, and there is positive reinforcement for such behavior. There is much reliance on constant practice and on rote memory, as well.

Some schools teach the use of the abacus, and some do not. Its usefulness is being questioned by some educators. My impression was that it is seen by some as a vestige of old China.

The toys for sale in the stores and those few that I saw in the classrooms were generally plastic, metal and friction toys, small and inexpensive to produce. Except for the small blocks and chess pieces, I noted few wooden toys. I saw only one jig saw puzzle, made of heavy cardboard with tiny pieces, and it was not being used at the time. They do use clay and paper. Their toys are small and very detailed, in contrast to our toys which are generally larger, impressionistic, minimize the minutiae, and are geared to the motor and perceptual developmental level of our children. This contrast is striking in view of the extraordinary dexterity in arts and crafts and skill in realistic reproductions demonstrated by their children. The children sculpt in tiny proportions with great attention to detail. The sculpting, drawing and paper folding are performed on a level that we do not expect until a much later age.

A careful examination of new experimental textbooks in reading and arithmetic at the beginning first grade level reveals that their expectations of developmental visual maturity and handwriting precision are far in advance of what we expect of children of similar age in the United States. Our readers for six and seven year old children use large type (ranging in size from 14 to 16 points) with much space between lines. The Chinese first grade reader uses smaller type. The Roman letters (that are now used to help children learn the standard pronunciation of words) on many pages are about 11 points, a size that we usually reserve for competent readers of eleven years or older. Though the Chinese characters are a trifle larger (in some cases approximately 14 points in size), each character is so complex and the lines so fine that the net effect is that of very small type. The arithmetic book, using 14 point type to present number problems, offers only very small spaces for the child’s answer, requiring excellent eye-hand coordination in order to write in these small spaces. This level of coordination has already been demonstrated by Chinese children in other activities described earlier; in American schools, such skill is not achieved until much later.

EXAMINATIONSIn striving for modernization, the schools are restoring examinations and homogeneous

grouping, both of which were eliminated during the Cultural Revolution. First graders are now being tested for tracking, as are entrants to middle schools.

Primary and middle school programs have been condensed to five years each. The entrance age for primary schools, which had been seven, is being lowered to six.

Upon completion of middle school, those who wish to attend universities now take examinations. The first examination was administered in December, 1977, the second examination in July, 1978, and the next exams will be given in July, 1979. If the university program is four years in duration, the first graduating class will be that of the summer of 1981.

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Applicants are permitted to take the examinations until they are 25 years old. If they are exceedingly bright, they may take them until the age of 30. This permits those whose schooling was disrupted by the Cultural Revolution to make special application for university admission.

TEACHERSA serious problem is the shortage of well trained teachers. Before Liberation, there were

few schools and few teachers. After Liberation, education expanded rapidly, and teachers could not be trained quickly enough. During the period of the Gang of Four, many teacher training institutions either closed or stopped enrolling students. Now, some prospective teachers are trained at teacher universities after completing middle school.

To teach in kindergarten or pre-school programs, students may train after the completion of junior middle school (three years of middle school). Some kindergarten teachers receive only short term (5 – 6 months) training. I was told that some of the kindergarten staff consist of “old women who have little training. They do nursery work.”

To teach in the primary school, students may, after junior middle school (having had a total of eight years of schooling), enter teachers’ school (not a university) where they receive two or three years of training.

Most touching, and at times unnerving, was the eagerness of teachers and psychologists to hear how we had solved our problems in education in America, and to learn about the status of psychological and educational theory in the United States. They asked many questions, some theoretical, some very specific:

“What has happened to the work of Bruner? Is he still held in high regard? And Skinner? And Dewey?”

Tell us about teaching machines and other educational technology. What is your opinion regarding the use of calculators to replace the teaching of long division and multiplication in the primary school? It is proposed by some that, in the instructional time saved by the use of the calculator, we can instead teach science. What do you think of this?”

“How do your pre-school classes look? What kind of furniture is used in them?”Do you feel that we should teach reading in our pre-school program or should we wait

until the first grade?”“How do you select the most talented students?”“How do you encourage children in science education? How do you train students to be

scientists?” “How do you decide what research to do? What is the value of basic research?”They were very eager to hear about what great advances we have made in the United

States, what great things we’re doing, so that they can adopt them very quickly in order to raise the scientific and technological skills of their children. They want to know all the secrets of education that will help children become scientists quickly.

THE CURRICULUMI tried to describe the informal classroom to them; although they were courteous, the

concept was new and shocking, and they were bewildered, understandably, since their schools are very much as ours were when I went to school 50 years ago.

Only a few western periodicals are available to these professionals. When I asked what professional literature I might send that would be helpful, the more numerous requests were for mathematics, science, and on how to improve intellectual functioning. In return, I received two of their new textbooks: reading and arithmetic. Rarely have visiting Americans received copies of primary school texts.

MEDICINE

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Medical and acupuncture facilities have received many visitors, and have been well reported. Two observations I will add. I observed acupuncture of a thirteen year old enuretic girl who was receiving a two week course of treatment: she came into the acupuncture clinic at the Childrens Hospital at Peking daily for two weeks, excluding Sundays. Now in her tenth day of treatment, she was reported to be somewhat improved. Prior treatment, including drugs, had been ineffective with this girl. Unfortunately, there was no quantitative description of effectiveness.

At Childrens Hospital, they reported that they use western type medication to moderate hyperactivity in children; the medication is produced at a pharmaceutical factory in Shanghai. They also reported that they are familiar with the syndrome of MBD (Minimal Brain Damage) as I described it; it had been more prevalent during the period of the Gang of Four, they said, and it is less prevalent now.

ON BUILDING SOCIALIST MANI asked one of our hosts who had formerly been a university president and member of the

Ministry of Education how had China managed in 30 short years to change human nature; I knew that thirty years earlier they had had people with greed, drugs, prostitution, alcoholism. Now people seemed happy, and these problems seem to have been eliminated.

He said no, they had not really changed human nature completely. There are still traces of bourgeois thinking. They have far to go and they do it by remolding character, and by their rectification policy, which includes criticism and self-criticism. He pointed out that it is easy to change behavior; it is much more difficult to change patterns of thinking and attitudes, and this is what they are concerned with. The residual tendencies to bourgeois thinking are found among the older people who lived in capitalism before Liberation, who still have tendencies toward individualism, toward going it alone; they haven’t yet learned to be Socialist people. He admitted that, with greater contact with the West, there was some risk of contamination of young people by bourgeois thinking from the West.

A more complete description of this policy of re-education, as well as the strong support system available was given by another person. The policies of rectification and remolding are the same, and they were started shortly after liberation by Chairman Mao. They are geared toward reforming the thinking of those who have traces of feudal and bourgeois thinking in their characters. These would, on the whole, be the intellectuals: the professionals, the scientists, the writers, the artists, the teachers and even perhaps intellectuals who had not yet fulfilled themselves and are not in the academic areas, but are intellectuals in their thinking. These are people who were geared to self-fulfillment rather than working for the good of the people as a whole. And these are people who suffered a great deal of conflict within themselves in terms of wanting to achieve for themselves, and in terms of wanting to gain fame. The most important thing is to work for the good of the people, and each decision must be so guided. It is very difficult very often for a scientist, for example, to give up his field of inquiry or shift his field of inquiry to another one which is more needed by the people because, in so doing, he will lose his advantage—he may not become as famous, he may not be as honored, because he starts in a new field and has to learn it. And yet if it is for the good of the people, he should make that change. Every decision must be evaluated in terms of whether the individual is thinking in terms of personal gain or gain for the people.In order to work out these problems and to keep people on course, they have many, many discussions. During the Cultural Revolution the discussions were endless and also not productive. Some people, for example, stayed home for a couple of years. Others stayed home from work completely. Others worked incessantly. It really was a matter of how the individual saw his role at that time. Now discussions have come down to a rational level. They are held, at the most, on one day in six, and very often only for one half day. Attendance at these is compulsory, though people may be excused for good reason. Discussions are led by the party committee or the party group. In smaller units, there is a party group; in larger units there is a

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party committee. Some people lead these discussions more effectively than others. Anyone may bring up subjects to be discussed. Our narrator’s discussion group number ten people. They know each other very well, and provide valuable support for each other, particularly in times of personal need: with visits, advice, food, assistance with scheduling. There is a lot of mutual support.

The remolding process is an ongoing thing. It is supportive, as well as re-educative. Workers and peasants who have tendencies that might be considered selfish have meetings and discussions in a similar fashion. Premier Chou En Lai said, “All my life I learn and remold.”

STOCK EXPRESSIONSWe traveled extensively, and visited many people. Everywhere people were friendly,

responsive, and eager to show us much. We were impressed by the fact that in so many diverse places we encountered the same statements, uttered with sincerity, conviction, and faith: “War is inevitable” we were told again and again. Chairman Mao was quoted repeatedly on any subject under discussion.

At most of the places we visited, we were told “We have many shortcomings, and we look to you for criticism and suggestions.” The attention given to our suggestions was quite variable. Professionals in science and education were very interested and attentive. Suggestions relating to safety (industrial and environmental) seemed to elicit courteous, but cursory interest.“We have learned much from you,” we heard many times. And everywhere were messages of friendship to the people of the United States.

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AFTER OUR VISIT

Professor Qian Renyuan (Lo Qian) remains our friend, has visited us, as did his wife of that time, and he corresponds with Martin. As of 2001, he is well and enjoying his work and his travel.

Several months after our return, we were invited by Tim Considine to a private showing of the film on China produced by him and Helen Snow on their visit to China, during which we had met them. Behold! They had visited and filmed the very same school, the same classroom, the same class, the same students, and the same beautiful lesson that we had visited, though at a different time.

Within the year after our return, Martin received a call from Tsao. She was in New York, and wanted to visit us. She had dinner in our home that evening. She was now Westernized: a permanent wave in her hair, western dress and cosmetics, and clearly non-socialist in her goals and thinking.

A number of the scientists in Martin’s class came to NYU to study and work in the Radiation and Solid State Laboratory there. Mao came, followed by May, to whom he had been betrothed; he earned his Ph. D. and is now working in New Jersey. Dr. Liu came, followed by his family; he is still working at the lab at NYU. Dr. Jin came, worked in the lab for a year, and returned to China to continue his work there.

Ten years later, in 1988, Martin was invited to China once more for a brief visit. We went there for two weeks, again as guests of the government of China. Many changes had already taken place since our first visit; it was clear that things were changing rapidly. And the Institute of Chemistry was actively involved in the research which Martin had introduced with his lectures.

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EPILOGUEChanges that We Observed on Our Second Visit in 1988

1978-1988

1. More freedom to speak.2. Mo conviction that the freedom will last.

3. As one enters at airport, no more photos and posters; now AMEX, Master Charge, and Henry Winston (diamond merchant).

4. 4. TV antennas all over; most people have TV.5. Lots of high rises, and lots being built.

6. Refrigerators are now common.7. Corruption and greed are rampant and visible.

8. “Watch your purse!” repeatedly.9. Change money; change money.

10. Three rates of exchange. 3.71 for us., FEC, foreign exchange currency; 6.6 for business people; 10-12 black market. Foreigners not permitted to use local currency; certain items are restricted to FEC (beryoshka system).11. They complain that young people are interested only in money.

12. …that people are less friendly, more tense.13. Inflation, unknown before, is very high, and making things different.

14. Smoking has increased.15. Noise—horn blowing has decreased; it is illegal.

16. Air pollution: the same.17. We observed no spitting this time.

18. We observed no spitting of bones on tables, as last time.19. We observed widespread use of toilet paper. For many purposes.

20. In downtown Beijing, we observed few people using traditional clothing. We could not find Mao caps in Beijing, only in a small village in the

countryside.21. We did see traditional clothing in Shanghai in the area near Fudan U., which

is a poor area.20. My skirts were the sensation of Shanghai.

21. We observed few long-haired pig-tailed women.22. We observed more men with perms than women.

23. Clothing is colorful.24. Many, mny stalls, street vendors, free markets, selling all kinds of things:

jewelry, scarves, vegetables, fruits, jeans, other clothing. In one temple, we saw a “Cheese it, the cops” scene.

25. In Shanghai, we saw homes with external water only. I’m sure they don’t have TV, possibly no refrigerators. In Shanghai, there is no internal heating of

buildings in the winter time. COLD.26. 150 scientists from Inst. Of Chem. Have been abroad since 1978. They bring

back to China VCRs, sterio sets, refrig., cameras, washing machines. The stte is now trying to cut off importation of these consumer items.

27. They all want to come to US, or for their children to come, and they don’t see it as impossible.

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28. There was a Rolls Royce parked outside the Mayor’s office today.29. There is now a formation of corporations like the Mayor’s Shanghai

Investment, whatever it is. And joint ventures to manufacture goods.30. Food at Friendship Hotel in better and more generous than it was 10 years

ago at Hotel Peking.31. Lots of cars now. Most are official or owned by more affluent. Trsffic and

bike problems are horrendous. Pay parking for bikes and cars, with attendants at every spot. Last time it was only for bikes. We’re told that parking in front of the

Beijing .Hotel is now $500 American per month.32. Less cartage by humans or animals; lots of trucks do the carting now, but

you still see animals and people draying.33. Airplanes are more modern now, and serve meals. Not Russian airplanes any more.34. Taxis are everywhere: in Shanghai they refused to take us home from the Acrobatics unless paid in FEC, or some large amt.35. Jeans for sale everywhere.36. Women wear slacks. Is it because it is winter?37.Martin needed no interpreter for his lectures this time.38. Our friends have better housing, similar to Eastern countries; and they now invited us to their homes for dinner.39. No MAO billboards. No pictures of Mao, except one on Forbidden City wall, and one large statue ar Fudan U. No Mao, Stalin, etc. at Inst. where there had been many and prominently displayed last time.40. We saw no meeting of workers and were told of no discussion time, as was so prominent last time.41. We were able to buy an unusual camera battery in Beijing very easily.42. TV ser in every hotel! Room! Color! 10 o’clock news in English. 43. Lots of white masks on people here, as in Japan.44.Free Market: key maker, cobbler, fresh fish, dumpling maker, vegetables of all kinds, a little meat, much poultry, pigeons, lots and lots of eggs, people making preserved eggs. In Beijing. We saw only stalls; we did not see a free market, just private stalls everywhere. We did not move around too much, so there might have been much more.

From THE CHINA DAILY: Iniquitous dens closed by police in Hangzhou: hooliganism and prostitution. Strict controls on imports of luxuries. Consumer goods preferred to books. Students keep in touch with reality ( realize that demonstrating may not be the best thing). Students quit school for money and travel, Hegemony

We had several conversations with an American couple who had lived in China for many years, and who also had roots in Italy. We discussed the problem of neighbors that bordered on China.

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Martin pointed out that as far as the Russian question is concerned, I've been told that this is purely an ideological thing, that Kruschev had wanted complete control over the army of China, the navy and all the ports. And that Mao said “Nothing doing.” And for that reason K withdrew all the technicians, and precipitated the break which exists to the present day. Now that seemed to me absolute nonsense. China is quite willing to have close relations with the US; US is an imperialist power. It is quite possible for China to have close relations with Zaire, a quasi-fascist state. The principles that China has outlined for friendly relations with any foreign country are clear; there are four principles, one of which is non-interference in its internal affairs. Things like non-interference are quite simply negotiated. Well, if there is any nation on the face of the earth that China should be friendly with, at least be on non-antagonistic terms, it is the nation with which it has the greatest common border--the Soviet Union. So whatever misunderstandings that were ideological that existed in the past could without doubt have been placed on a basis of live and let live.

I have come to the conclusion that the chief source of difficulty between China and Russia lay in the enunciation, there is another set Chinese phrase in present history--that is the phrase 'unequal treaty.' Just like the expression hegemony means the Soviet Union, unequal treaty also refers to unsettled business between China and all nations that had acquired land from the Chinese rulers in the past. I was told by one of the Chinese here that during the conflict between China and India that Russia sided with India. Now if this is true, I read this as typifying the extreme sensitivity of Russia to any raising of an issue involving a border, because of all the nations in the world, Russia has the most of what was ancient Chinese territory. And as far as I can remember, during the period of the Manchus, Russia acquired its entire Eastern province which includes Vladivostok, which is the only warm water all year round port on the Pacific Ocean. Without this port, Russia would be almost completely a land locked nation, which accounts for its frantic efforts to try to find all weather routes out at Murmansk and other areas across thru the North Pole.

Code Word

The first time that I spoke to the husband, he discarded my notions of the border problem. He said that there is no question but that China is quite willing to accept the present border, has no intentions of changing its border, that it just wants a set border with Russia, and that is what the Pearl Island incident is about, and that's why the Russians have a million men on the Chinese border. That didn't cut very much ice with me. Russia is not going to have a million men on somebody's border over the issue of a h few hundred square miles of territory involving a stinky little island that nobody wants, cares about; it isn't that at all. There is a principle involved. It’s the old camel in a tent thing that Russia was afraid of. She was afraid of losing the entire Eastern province. Someone else told me that Lenin in the early stages of the Russian Revolution offered to give up all land that was acquired by the Czar, in order to gain support for the young Russian Revolution. He was quite willing to give back all the land that Russia had taken from China, and so on. Well, after the Russian Revolution was successful, this willingness to give back land was overlooked; in addition, there was nobody to give it back to in China, which at that time was still in the grip of warlords. So there was no point in giving it back to anyone then.

At the discussion at the table, Martin brought up the question of what is the reason for the conflict between Russia and China. And once more, we were told that this

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is an ideological problem. That China does not consider Russia a truly Socialist country, to which M countered “Well do you consider the United States a truly socialist country? And China is quite willing to have negotiations with the United States.”. They said, “Yes, but US is not a Socialist country, so nobody has to be afraid, whereas Russia pretends to be a Socialist country.” So M said,” OK, so everybody in China can know that there is no Socialist country.” Finally once more he told them what his theory was, that it involved all that land. And he said that is the only issue that can’t be solved just by having a meeting and saying “OK I won’t do it any more”. That is the only reason that merits a million men on a border. That is the only problem that is big enough to cause a permanent rift between China and Russia. Unequal treaties is a pat phrase; these are Aesopian phrases that are tossed about that have deep meaning. They sound like nothing, but they have deep meaning. Unequal treaties means a big border problem between Russia and China. Hegemony is Russia. And the issue of hegemony is a political tactic in order to weaken Russia by causing all the other members of the Communist block nations to start agitating for their own freedom against that of Russian influence. This is what he said.

At the table, without prompting, it was stated that the Gang of Four was really a Gang of Five. That Chairman Mao in his old age had been so isolated from the country by his nephew, by his wife and the other group--they took what he said, distorted it, and then put forth their own policies in his name. And that was how the whole thing got fouled up.

That was the nature of the misdirection. It was a result of isolation of Ch. Mao from the Chinese people, and it was the authority of Chairman Mao behind all the statements that permitted all the goings on. Furthermore, as to the issue of land, after a while, no opposition was expressed to what M was saying, from which we gather that there wasn’t any legitimate argument that could have been launched against it. Either they didn’t know, or they could find no substantiation on the basis of theory of ideology to explain the conflict. They could not really explain the reason for the conflict between Russia and China on any ideological basis.

We mentioned that we had been told that during the period of G4, it had been required of people that they pay obeisance to a huge picture of Chairman Mao, and we questioned whether it had in fact been true. They said t it definitely was true. It was required that they pray before Mao, and this had taken place over a period of several years, three years or so that everyone was required to pray before Mao..

Bob said that the first time that he walked into the Foreign Affairs Institute where he worked (I don’t know whether it is called Institute or what) and found everyone assembled before a picture of Mao , bowing their heads, he walked out, and refused to participate in this. He said that there was little repercussion; that he was able to do that. They indicated that they have voiced their independence or opposition; there have been few repercussions, although there was a casual mention that in 1969, there had been an effort to get them to leave China. But I did not ask further about that, so I don’t know what really happened then. Some time last week there was a reception by the Vietnam consulate or some Vietnam official organization, and everyone in their community had received invitations, but the only ones who went were this couple. No one else appeared, out of some sort of fear, because relations between Vietnam and China at the moment are not good. Martin felt that both the husband and wife shared with him his fears concerning the dangers and risks of errors in this overemphasis on science in which China seems to be embarking. And therefore the potential deemphasis on the arts. Since the wife is much involved in the arts, she certainly is concerned about that. They told several touching stories about the children, particularly Randy.

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When he was four years old, he mentioned very casually why he was a bad Yankee. The children were calling him a bad Yankee. At that time America was not popular in China. They were quite thrown by this. I should imagine that their reaction was very serious because though they were American citizens, they perhaps felt that they had no home in US, and here in China the child was being called names. So they told him to say that he wasn’t a bad Yankee; he is not American leadership, but American people. Mao had made a clear distinction between leadership and people. They found out later that he cleared the matter up all by himself. He said “I'm not a bad Yankee” to his playmates on the bus and to the bus driver.. I guess he was picked up for school by bus. “I’m a small American people; little American.” And that won them over. That worked. She made a point that some very good things came out of the Cultural Revolution,, and they should not be overlooked. Most important was the question of egalitarianism. There was a great push on egalitarianism, and people were made to feel that work was important; that all work roles were valuable and equal; that the street cleaner contributes as much as the writer as the artist as the political leader and so on. And this was a very important feature. Her housemaid feels that her work is as valuable as their’s because she makes it possible for them to make their contribution to building the country. Therefore, when they come home late as a result of work obligations, she is not resentfu1. She does her work simply and happily and proudly. And the open school policy did have this positive outcome, and was very good. When they went to Rome (she is very happy that her children have had great opportunities here in terms of learning about the world, and people, and that their education has been a very good one) and saw beggars on the street, Randy asked, “ What are they? She had to explain about beggars. He first found it very difficult to understand and then he said, “Oh, like in China before the Liberation~- peop1e who didn’t have anything to eat.” In China right now there are no beggars. Also, his sister at that time in Rome asked about religion. Randy explained to her that is superstition. Here they call religion superstition.

People: Hotel DiningRoom

Tim Considine and Helen Snow asked us could we stop up at her room after lunch to be interviewed. They were very much interested in hearing what we had to say--what Martin had to say, since his visit to China was one of the new things. Helen Snow had a suite there: refrigerator, fruits; she is a lady of about 77; looks a lot like Estelle Parsons and she is quite fey. She is a bug on latinizing the script here and a couple of other things. The interview was interesting for us. I doubt that they will use it in any way. If they do, we will hear from them.

College of Minority Nationalities

From there we went to the College of Minority Nationalities . Wherever we go there is a committee waiting outside the gate waiting for us. I don’t know how long they wait. When we come up, they’re all smiles, shaking hands, Nee How, Nee How, Nee How, and applauding very often. At the end, they always walk us to the car, saying Zai Dien, and wave as we leave. And if we're leaving down a long road, they wi1l be in sight waving for as long as we can look back, no matter how long that road is.

At the college, we had to apologize for being late because we had to meet Edgar Snow's widow. And in the course of going around, they showed us a photograph of Chairman Mao wearing a hat they said was Edgar Snow's hat. Edgar Snow took the picture of Mao and lent his own hat to Mao for the picture. Three years ago Helen Snow donated that hat to the college or to China because it was so precious to China

Scientific Work: Martin’s invitation to China

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That evening Deputy Director Chien came over for a visit to us at the hote1. He said that Martin was in fact the very first non-Oriental scientist to give a full course in any Institute of chemistry of the Academy of Science in all of China's history since 1iberation. So it is since the inception of the Institute, which came after 1iberation. We asked how come they selected Martin to invite. Well, after meeting him in Nikko, they really wanted to invite him. And they tried to invite him in 1976 which is two years before they in fact did invite him. But it was not permitted by G4. So Martin was an early victim of the Gang of Four. He said that the groups had met Saturday afternoon, after Martin's final discussion, and they evaluated his lectures; they all agreed that he was very, very good Martin has set the pattern for the courses that are to be given in the future. All future courses will be given in the same way generally; discussions, send your outlines in advance, send your notes in advance, ta ta ta ta ta. Martin had asked “Call us Martin and Li1lie. And what do we call you?” He said, “You can call me Lao Chien, which means Old Chien, which is Old Boy. That is the familiar for an older person. For a younger person the familiar is Shao. That is how Tsao calls She. She calls him Shao.. So we call him Lao Chien.

Cultural Revolution: Impact

He confirmed also that they all had to pay obeisance to the picture of Mao during the time of G4. He said that one thing that was good was that they at the Institute had closer relations with the technology and with the factories. On further questioning, there was some good in terms of appreciation of people, of the different kinds of peasants by the scientists But he said very little else good came out of the CR. I asked once more about the Romanizing of the language, and he just doesn’t feel that it will happen. He was concerned about what would happen to all the vast literature that they have. It would be lost if the language is Romanized. I got the impression that he feels that it is an insurmountable problem to Romanize the language, and he really would prefer to keep it as it is.

Travel: Flight to Yenan

We met Tim Considine in the lobby as we left for the airplane. He was still excited about the interview. He enjoyed it enormously. We went to the airport with Ms. Tsao and Driver No.1, who when we got out of the car, said “Have a good journey.” He must have practiced saying it many times. He was delighted with the frisbee that we gave him, and with the little pin for. friendship. The drive to the airport was as lovely :during the day as it had been during the evening. It's a long ride, about 30 km. on one country road, lovely. Another car brought Mrs. Lu and Mr. She, who saw us off. And they waved to us all the way as we walked across the field to the plane. It's a small airport and you walk across the field to the plane.

Very different from Kennedy. It was a Russian plane flying from Peking to Yenan, 48 passengers; propellor plane, lots of noise and no pressurization. First they came around with candy and chewing gum, then cigarettes, then orange drinks, then with a souvenir fan and a lapel pin; then with newspapers and magazines, then with sweets; they just kept coming, coming, coming. And then suddenly the terrain beneath the airplane was magnificent. The terraced ground seen from above, mountainous and terraced, so that you could see pieces of mountain cut off, you could see rich brown soil; every part of the mountain was in steps instead of just being up and down scraggly mountains. I really don’t know how to describe it. It was beautiful, and it was criminal that photography was not permitted. We landed at an airport of the city of Tai Yuan. We were grounded there from ten twenty in the morning until three o’clock, at each point not even being sure that we would leave that very day. It seems that the airport at Yenan was overcast or rainy, and since we could not land at Yenan, (they have no radar equipment and they fly by vision) we could not take off. We’re going out for a walk now.

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Yenan: Museum and Mao’s Dwellings

We have just come back from our visit to the Museum of the Chinese Revolution at Yenan and also to several more of Mao's cave dwellings and residences.

The Museum of the Chinese Revolution is a rather complete history of the revolution starting from the earliest times, and it contains all the mementos, pictures and things like that. There was one thing that was noticeably absent.

Martin said, Ms. Tsao, “At the entrance to Tien An Mien Square, there are four pictures. Marx, Engels, Lenin and Stalin. Stalin has a picture the size of Marx, so apparently in Chinese eyes his stature is comparable to the other three. And yet in this Museum of the Chinese Revolution, I don’t see the slightest evidence of any contribution that Stalin made to the Chinese revolution. How is that?” She blinked. She said, “ Our position is that in the later years Stalin made serious errors, but in the early years he made a real contribution to the people of the world. For example, his fight in the World War II, in the Chinese Revolution. In the early years of the revolution, he supplied generals, he trained the troops-~cadres to train the troops.” Somehow that is as far as she got.

Martin responded, “That is an interesting remark that you made when you said that Stalin in his later years made serious errors. Did Chairman Mao make any serious errors in his later years?” She said, “ Yes, he did. He made serious errors in his later years, but we don’t talk about it now.”He said, “That is quite true. When people get old, their brains don’t function as well as when they were young, . , “There should be some way for people to retire from their positions in power and turn over everything to younger people.”” She said, “That’s right, that’s right, I agree with you completely.” She said that she agreed with me completely.

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MCDOWELL CENTERC 1992: I was invited to consult on and assist with the development of a new center in Brooklyn, sponsored by the Quaker community, for children with learning disabilities. I assisted in the formulation of program, in the development of philosophy and in the hiring of staff. Naming the school was a problem: I suggested that it be named after Mary McDowell, a Quaker teacher who had resisted the first World War, who had also been my Latin teacher at Lincoln HS. They accepted my suggestion happily.

As I look back at my life so that you can get to know me, I am also getting to know myself. I see that I have fulfilled most of my ambitions, and that my reach has been as long as my arm: I have seldom wanted what was unavailable and beyond my reach. I have traveled widely, I have been highly regarded professionally, I have worked with people who have made great contributions to society, and I also have made important contributions. Read on, and judge for yourself, And, I hope, take courage and inspiration as well. I am planning to set up categories for my blogs: Education, Teaching Reading, China, and Whatever—and more as indicated, to make it easier for you to tune in to your special (or general) interests. Let me hear from you.

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As you can see, martin has been invited o many places in the world, and I have accompanied him to most. I have also received many invitations, and could accept only a few because of our work and family responsibilities at home.

The invitation to visit China was exceptional. It was as though we had been invited to visit the unknown plant, Mars. China now, in 2011, is in a period of great transition¸ and is in constant communication with the other great powers in the world. In 1978, it was just emerging from centuries of isolation, of historic discoveries and developments in arts and the sciences, and from the Cultural Revolution, in which its greatness had been silenced, and it was isolated and unknown. By the rest of the world. I share with you the excitement of our visit, and I share with scholars the images that we brought back of the nascent changes in the most populated country in the world. I bring you an overview of our observations in 1978, together with an Epilogue describing the changes we noticed in a return visit in 1988 If you want more detail, see_

MY ANTECEDENTS(1-35)


My father reminded me many times that I must not forget my heritage. “Fargess nicht dein yiches! Du bist Yoinem dem Ruv’s Ihreinickel!” “Remember your origin! You are the great granddaughter of the Grand Rabbi Jonah!”. Pop had a great sense of humor, as well as a disrespect of hierarchy. But he was not given to fabricating. So there you have it: my heritage!

Papa was the youngest sibling of between nine and eleven children born to Bayla and Leib Belitzky near Odessa.

My parents were married in November of 1917. It was clear and openly accepted that I was conceived out of wedlock—not uncommon even at that time. No secret was made of this, and only once did anyone make a statement about it. One of the few times that Luba was angry at me, she taunted me with that blot on my escutcheon.

During her pregnancy, Mama went frequently to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, convinced that prenatal cultural exposure would have an impact on me. After I was born, it was clear that Pop’s painting work was insufficient to support us. He and Mom then opened a Drygoods store on Third Avenue in the neighborhood where Sonia/Nathan and Mom and Pop lived. Mom tended the store; Pop tended the store with her when he was not out on a paint job. They tell two sweet stories. I used to wander in and out of the store when I was very little—perhaps two years old. A lady, walking down Third Avenue, saw me and thought I was a lost child. She took my hand and led me to the police station. After a while, my parents missed me. Pop went out hunting for me, and finally went to ask the police for assistance. As he entered the police station, he saw all the policemen

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clustered around a high post, on which sat Lillie. They were all having a great time, enjoying me! In the second story, I was a bit older, and could express myself quite well. I sat on the counter in the store, and Pop came in and asked, “Is gevein parnusse?” “Has there been any business?” Obviously he was asking Mom, but I answered, in Yiddish, “They came, they looked, and they left.” “Men is gekommen, gekucked, und aveck gegangen.”

Our first home in Brooklyn was a corner apartment in a Bensonhurst tenement on the corner of Bay 38 Street and 86 Street. I was not yet of school age, and we had no clock in the house. When Mom needed to know the time, I would go down to look at a distant street clock, and I would call up to her, “The big hand is on 5, and the little hand is on 6.” Papa would buy the Journal, the best newspaper for the listing of jobs. He would get up before dawn, and walk to Manhattan to get a day job, always hoping that the job would still be available when he got there. Not only did he paint, but he also did small contracting jobs. And of course he was also a skillful paperhanger.

From there, we moved to 110 Bay 38 Street: a semi-detached two family brick house, where we occupied the upper floor. We moved many times after that, so I must explain what rental practices were at the time. Times were very bad, and rentals were a buyer’s market. Landlords lured tenants with low rentals, poor service, and offers of concession: several months of free rental upon moving in. No matter how good a deal an unemployed or underpaid tenant worked out, another landlord might offer a better deal. Poor families moved frequently. Their furniture and belongings were few. Two barrels could hold the breakables, so moving was easy. Only paying the rent was difficult.

Bay 38 Street was occupied by Jews and Italians. When a new kid moved onto the block, we surrounded him and asked which of those two categories fit him. He said, no, he was Spanish. “But are you Jewish or Italian?” we insisted. The Jewish families were religious, and we were not. On Friday nights and Saturdays, we drew the curtains so that they could not observe our ungodly ways. We lived directly across the street from P.S. 101—an old schoolhouse with no indoor toilet, but with a wealth of love and kindness. Mama saw no need for me to go to Kindergarten. I started in the first grade with Miss Murphy. She loved all the children, and I loved her. I still have a photograph of the first grade class. Leo Auerbach was in that class with me. In the picture I sat with my legs spread wide apart, wearing a middy blouse and a blue skirt, the uniform of the day. Eugene went to Kindergarten, and then he had Miss Murphy after me. I wonder what he remembers of her. At that house on Bay 38 Street, I sat on the front steps as children came to Eugene’s birthday party, and reminded them, “Don’t forget your presents!”

Our home on Bay 38th Street was near the ocean, still a countrified part of the city, though it was near the elevated train that carried people to Coney Island at one end (not far from us), and to Manhattan at the other end. Ulmer Park, a private bathing community, was one block from us; Aunt Rose used to take us there on occasion. There was much empty space in the area: lots without buildings, but with lots of weeds, grass and wild flowers. One of our favorite occupations was to pick daisies and black-eyed susans—and make daisy chains for necklaces and

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headdresses. We would hold buttercups to our throats; if they reflected yellow, “she loved me”, if not, “she loved me not.” We would throw stickers at each other. And one of my favorite flowers were the “four o’clocks.” It was many years afterwards when I saw four o’clocks again; that was in China in 1978. For some reason, they had disappeared in the Brooklyn communities that I was familiar with. And we would tell time by blowing on the dandelion blossoms. This we still do. The Italian ladies picked dandelion greens to cook. The dandelions grew wild in these lots. Cattails too. There were as many beautiful butterflies as there were children. On occasion, we improvised nets to catch them.


On weekends, we would sometimes have outings to Coney Island with the whole extended family. The elevated train would carry us to the Stillwell Avenue station, and then the Norton Point trolley car would take us to the Bay 30’s, toward the western end of Coney Island. We would carry blankets to designate our turf, towels and bathing suits, dry clothes to change into, toy pails to play with in the sand—and tons of picnic food. When we could afford to, we would rent a large umbrella to provide some shade. This was very seldom. We never rented deck chairs that were available for relaxing, nor did we rent the lockers that were available for changing. We had a wonderful time at these outings. We also got beautiful sunburns every season.

Though every penny was difficult to earn, and had to be accounted for, Pop was a hard-working adventurer, and was ahead of his time. He needed a vehicle for his work, and also to be in tune with the times: he bought a Gardner Touring Convertible! It was the first car experienced by the whole family, as well as the whole community. It was very second-hand; be bought it for a few dollars, and eventually sold it to Murray for ten dollars. It was a thrilling buy. Pop loaded all the kids in the neighborhood into that convertible, with the hood down, and took us all for our first joy ride. He drove up Bath Avenue and down Benson Avenue (with no other vehicles around) at the incredible rate of twenty miles an hour! It was more exciting than the Cyclone in Coney Island! When, on hot summer evenings, we sat out in front of the house to cool off, Pop would sometimes take us on an outing: driving to Coney Island, down Surf Avenue and back home. This was our touring to see the sights—and it created a slight breeze to cool us off. We would also take very long trips in the car, to visit Grandma’s restaurant in Manhattan. And to visit Uncle Sam and Aunt Edis in Brownsville: driving through the country farms up Kings Highway to Howard Avenue to Pitkin Avenue.

. Sam worked through all the years for Meyer in the glass and mirror business. He worked steadily and for low wages, yet enough to support his large family on a low economic level. They lived in Brownsville, not far from the Loew’s Pitkin Theatre. Despite his small wages, they saved at the U. S. Savings Bank, and when the bank collapsed at the outset of the Great Depression, they stood outside the bank, as did thousands of others—watching all their dreams collapse.

Aunt Eda came after Ida did, and she met and married Cohon (that is how the name was pronounced). I think it was Harry Cohen. They too peddled a

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pushcart, this time with Halvah. And they too were very successful, finally establishing the Joyva Halvah Company: “It’s good for you if you want to lose weight, or to gain weight. If you want to lose weight, eat it instead of a meal. If you want to gain weight, eat it as dessert.” Harry was a big man, not too verbal. It was the greatest thing to visit them on their home on President Street near Utica Avenue: Uncle Harry would give us a box of chocolate covered halvah to take home. And on birthdays and special celebrations, he would give us a five dollar gold piece! That was worth a million dollars to us!.

45 nyu47 invitations worldwide49 nsf institutes82 our old house

SPEECH TO UE

Hegemony

MARTIN: As far as the Russian question is concerned, I've been told that this is purely an

ideological thing, that Kruschev had wanted complete control over the army of China, the navy

and all the ports. And that Mao said “Nothing doing.” And for that reason K withdrew all the

technicians, and precipitated the break which exists to the present day. Now that seemed to me

absolute nonsense. China is quite willing to have close relations with the US; US is an imperialist

power. It is quite possible for China to have close relations with Zaire, a quasi-fascist state. The

principles that China has outlined for friendly relations with any foreign country are clear; there

are four principles, one of which is non-interference in the internal affairs. Things like non-

interference are quite simply negotiated. Well, if there is any nation on the face of the earth that

China should be friendly with, at least be on non-antagonistic terms, it is the nation with which it

has the greatest common border--the Soviet Union. So whatever misunderstandings that were

ideological that existed in the past could without doubt have been placed on a basis of live and let

live. I have come to the conclusion that the chief source of difficulty between China and Russia

lay in the enunciation, there is another set Chinese phrase in present history--that is the phrase

'unequal treaty.' Just like the expression hegemony means the Soviet Union, unequal treaty also

refers to unsettled business between China and all nations that had acquired land from the

Chinese rulers in the past. I was told by one of the Chinese here that during the conflict between

China and India that Russia sided with India. Now if this is true, I read this as typifying the

extreme sensitivity of Russia to any raising of an issue involving a border, because of all the

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nations in the world, Russia has the most of what was ancient Chinese territory. And as far as I

can remember, during the period of the Manchus, Russia acquired its entire Eastern province

which includes Vladivostok, which is the only warm water all year round port on the Pacific

Ocean. Without this port, Russia would be almost completely a land locked nation, which

accounts for its frantic efforts to try to find all weather routes out at Murmansk and other areas

across thru the North Pole.

Code Word

The first time that I spoke to Bob Johnson, he demolished/discarded my notions of the

border problem. He said that there is no question but that China is quite willing to accept the

present border, has no intentions of changing its border, that it just wants a set border with

Russia, and that is what the Pearl Island incident is about, and that's why the Russians have a

million men on the Chinese border. That didn't cut very much ice with me. Russia is not going to

have a million men on somebody's border over the issue of a h few hundred square miles of

territory involving a stinky little island that nobody wants, cares about, it isn't that at all. There is

a principle involved. It’s the old camel in a tent thing that Russia was afraid of. She was afraid of

losing the entire Eastern province. Someone else told me that Lenin in the early stages of the

Russian Revolution offered to give up all land that was acquired by the Czar, in order to gain

support for the young Russian Revolution. He was quite willing to give back all the land that

Russia had taken from China, and so on. Well, after the Russian Revolution was successful, this

willingness to give back land was overlooked; in addition, there was nobody to give it back to in

China, which at that time was still in the grip of warlords. So there was no point in giving it back

to anyone then.

At the discussion at the table, I brought up the question of what is the reason for the

conflict between Russia and China. And once more, both by Rosa and by Bob, I was told that

this is an ideological problem. That China does not consider Russia a truly Socialist country, to

which I countered “Well do you consider the United States a truly socialist country? And China is

quite willing to have negotiations with the United States.”. They said, “Yes, but US is not a

Socialist country, so nobody has to be afraid, whereas Russia pretends to be a Socialist country.”

So I said,” OK, so everybody in China can know that there is no Socialist country.” Finally once

more I told them what my theory was, that it involved all that land. And I said that is the only

issue that can’t be solved just by having a meeting and saying “OK I won’t do it any more”. That

is the only reason that merits a million men on a border. That is the only problem that is big

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enough to cause a permanent rift between China and Russia. Unequal treaties is a pat phrase;

these are Aesopian phrases that are tossed about that have deep meaning. They sound like

nothing, but they have deep meaning. Unequal treaties means a big border problem between

Russia and China. Hegemony is Russia. And the issue of hegemony is a political tactic in order to

weaken Russia by causing all the other members of the Communist block nations to start

agitating for their own freedom against that of Russian influence. This is what I said.

At the table, without my prompting at all, it was stated that the Gang of Four was really a

Gang of Five. That Chairman Mao in his old age had been so isolated from the country by his

nephew, by his wife and the other group--they took what he said, distorted it, and then put forth

their own policies in his name. And that was how the whole thing got fouled up.

That was the nature of the misdirection. It was a result of isolation of Ch. Mao from the

Chinese people, and it was the authority of Chairman Mao behind all the statements that

permitted all the goings on. Furthermore, as to the issue of land, after a while, no opposition was

expressed to what I was saying, from which I gather that there wasn’t any legitimate argument

that could have been launched against it. Either they didn’t know, or they could find no

substantiation on the basis of theory of ideology to explain the conflict. They could not really

explain the reason for the conflict between Russia and China on any ideological basis.

It turns out that Rosa, whose antecedents were members of the CP of Italy, was kicked

out of the CP while she was in China (the Italian CP) because of this kind of internal conflict over

ideology and stuff like that.

LILLIE: Apparently this expulsion was a very painful thing to her, as she had been immersed in

the spirit of communism, and it was a very painful thing to her when she received word that she

had been expelled. She wept for a very long time. We mentioned that we had been told that

during the period of G4, it had been required of people that they pay obeisance to a huge picture

of Chairman Mao, and we questioned whether it had in fact been true. They said t it definitely

was true. It was required that they pray before Mao, and this had taken place over a period of

several years, three years or so that everyone was required to pray before Mao. And this too a

caused her great discomfort, agony, and she wept a great deal during that period about this

stupidity.

Bob said that the first time that he walked into the Foreign Affairs Institute where he

worked (I don’t know whether it is called Institute or what) and found everyone assembled before

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a picture of Mao , bowing their heads, he walked out, and refused to participate in this. He said

that there was little repercussion; that he was able to do that. They indicated that they have voiced

their independence or opposition; there have been few repercussions, although there was a casual

mention that in 1969, there had been an effort to get them to leave China. But I did not ask further

about that, so I don’t know what really happened then. Some time last week there was a reception

by the Vietnam consulate or some Vietnam official organization, and everyone in their

community had received invitations, but the only ones who went were theJohnsons. No one else

appeared, out of some sort of fear, because relations between Vietnam and China at the moment

are not good. Martin felt that both Bob and Rosa shared with him his fears concerning the

dangers and risks of errors in this overemphasis on science in which China seems to be

embarking. And therefore the potential deemphasis on the arts. Since Rosa is so much involved in

the arts, she certainly is concerned about that. They told several touching stories about the

children, particularly Randy.

When he was four years old, he mentioned very casually why he was a bad Yankee. The

children were calling him a bad Yankee. At that time America was not popular in China. They

were quite thrown by this. I should imagine that their reaction was very serious because though

they were American citizens, they perhaps felt that they had no home in US, and here in China

the child was being called names. So they told him to say that he wasn’t a bad Yankee; he is not

American leadership, but American people. Mao had made a clear distinction between leadership

and people. They found out later that he cleared the matter up all by himself. He said “I'm not a

bad Yankee” to his playmates on the bus and to the bus driver.. I guess he was picked up for

school by bus. “I’m a small American people; little American.” And that won them over. That

worked. Rosa made a point that some very good things came out of the CR, and they should not

be overlooked. Most important was the question of egalitarianism. There was a great push on

egalitarianism, and people were made to feel that work was important; that all work roles were

valuable and equal; that the street cleaner contributes as much as the writer as the artist as the

political leader and so on. And this was a very important feature. Her housemaid feels that her

work is as valuable as their’s because she makes it possible for them to make their contribution to

building the country. Therefore, when they come home late as a result of work obligations, she is

not resentfu1. She does her work simply and happily and proudly. And the open school policy did

have this positive outcome, and was very good. When they went to Rome (she is very happy that

her children have had great opportunities here in terms of learning about the world, and people,

and that their education has been a very good one) and saw beggars on the street, Randy asked, “

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What are they? She had to explain about beggars. He first found it very difficult to understand

and then he said, “Oh, like in China before the Liberation~- peop1e who didn’t have anything to

eat.” In China right now there are no beggars. Also, his sister at that time in Rome asked about

religion. Randy explained to her that is superstition. Here they call religion superstition.

People: Hotel DiningRoom

On Monday morning, which was Labor Day at home, we breakfasted at the hotel with

our Australian friend who is a specialist in standardization, and who had turned out to be a very

charming and interesting man. He was leaving the next day and so were we. He recommended

that in Hong Kong we stop in at the Peninsula Hotel lobby for afternoon tea; he said it is quite an

experience. We spent the morning packing, with Martin finishing up his notes; and then at lunch

met Tim Considine, who was having lunch in our same dining room, which is the dining room

reserved for invited guests of the government. It was really the most specaia1 dining room in that

hotel.

Tim Considine and Helen Snow asked us could we stop up at her room after lunch to be

interviewed. They were very much interested in hearing what we had to say--what Martin had to

say, since his visit to China was one of the new things. Helen Snow had a suite there: refrigerator,

fruits; she is a lady of about 77; looks a lot like Estelle Parsons and she is quite fey. She is a bug

on latinizing the script here and a couple of other things. The interview was interesting for us. I

doubt that they will use it in any way. If they do, we will hear from them.

College of Minority Nationalities

From there we went to the College of Minority Nationalities. We had heard that when

one goes there one sees the dancing and programs put on by the students for the visitors. But we

got none of that. We had a most interesting time however. We were shown around by a group

consisting of the Deputy Head of the College and a History Professor who spoke English very

well, and who was very knowledgeable. I must note that wherever we go there is a committee

waiting outside the gate waiting for us. I don’t know how long they wait. When we come up,

they’re all smiles, shaking hands, Nee How, Nee How, Nee How, and applauding very often. At

the end, they always walk us to the car, saying Zai Dien, and wave as we leave. And if we're

leaving down a long road, they wi11be in sight waving for as long as we can look back, no matter

how long that road is.

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At the college, we had to apologize for being late because we had to meet Edgar Snow's

widow. And in the course of going around, they showed us a photograph of Chairman Mao

wearing a hat they said was Edgar Snow's hat. Edgar Snow took the picture of Mao and lent his

own hat to Mao for the picture. Three years ago Helen Snow donated that hat to the college or to

China because it was so precious to China

Scientific Work: Martin’s invitation to China

That evening Deputy Director Chien came over for a visit to us at the hote1. And he

brought with him a beautifully bound volume in red leather, with gold tooling, Martin's notes--

the mimeographed ones that they had prepared of Martin's 1ectures. They had them bound and

presented to Martin. He said that Martin was in fact the very first non-Oriental scientist to give a

full course in any Institute of chemistry of the Academy of Science in all of China's history since

1iberation. So it is since the inception of the Institute, which came after 1iberation. We asked how

come they selected Martin to invite. Well, after meeting him in Nikko, they really wanted to

invite him. And they tried to invite him in 1976 which is two years before they in fact did invite

him. But it was not permitted by G4. So Martin was an early victim of the Gang of Four. He said

that the groups had met Saturday afternoon, after Martin's final discussion, and hey evaluated his

lectures, and they all agreed that he was very, very good. By the way, he also brought

photographs that his wife had taken at the Great Wall. She herself had developed and printed

them and she had obvious1y put a lot of work into them, and they were very good. They were not

very well fixed, so when we get home I will see if we can get them copied.

Martin has set the pattern for the courses that are to be given in the future. All future

courses will be given in the same way generally; discussions, send your outlines in advance, send

your notes in advance, ta ta ta ta ta. Martin had asked “Call us Martin and Li1lie. And what do we

call you?” He said, “You can call me Lao Chien, which means Old Chien, which is Old Boy. That

is the familiar for an older person. For a younger person the familiar is Shao. That is how Tsao

calls She. She calls him Shao.. So we call him Lao Chien

Cultural Revolution: Impact

He confirmed also that they all had to pay obeisance to the picture of Mao during the

time of G4. I asked him what good came out of the CR, because I was convinced that there must

have been some good. He said that one thing that was good was that they at the Institute had

closer relations with the technology and with the factories. On further questioning, there was

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some good in terms of appreciation of people, of the different kinds of peasants by the scientists

But he said very little else good came out of the CR. I asked once more about the Romanizing of

the language, and he just doesn’t feel that it will happen,. and I don’t think he wants it to happen.

He said what would happen to all the vast literature that they have. It would be lost if the

language is Romanized. I got the impression that he feels that it is an insurmountable problem to

Romanize the language, and he really would prefer to keep it as it is.

Travel: Flight to Yenan

Tuesday morning (yesterday) we were to get up at 5:30 in the morning in order to make

our flight. Breakfast was delivered to the room. It was the best breakfast we’ve had; they are

much more efficient with meals and get better food when we have room service. We once heard

one American in the corridor say, “I wanna club sammitchk.” I’ve always wondered whether he

got it, and how it looked. We met Tim Considine in the lobby as we left for the airplane; he had

just been running with one of his buddies; he's a jogger. He was still excited about the interview.

He enjoyed it enormously. We went to the airport with Ms. Tsao and Driver No.1, who when we

got out of the car, said “Have a good journey.” He must have practiced it many times. He was

delighted with the frisbee that we gave him, and with the little pin for. friendship. The drive to the

airport was as lovely ,:during the day as it had been during the evening. It's a long ride, about 30

km. on one country road, lovely. Another car brought Mrs. Lu and Mr. She, who saw us off. And

he waved to us all the way as we walked across the field to the plane. It's a small airport and you

walk across the field to the plane.

Very different from Kennedy. It was a Russian plane flying from Peking to Yenan, 48

passengers; propellor plane, lots of noise and no pressurization. First they came around with

candy and chewing gum, then cigarettes, then orange drinks, then with a souvenir fan and a lapel

pin; then with newspapers and magazines, then with sweets; they just kept coming, coming,

coming. And then suddenly the terrain beneath the airplane was magnificent. The terraced

ground seen from above, mountainous and terraced, so that you could see pieces of mountain cut

off, you could see rich brown soil; every part of the mountain was in steps instead of just being

up and down scraggly mountains. I really don’t know how to describe it. It was beautiful, and it

was criminal that photography was not permitted. We landed at an airport of the city of Tai Yuan.

We were grounded there from ten twenty in the morning until three o’clock, at each point not

even being sure that we would leave that very day. It seems that the airport at Yenan was overcast

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or rainy, and since we could not land at Yenan, (they have no radar equipment and they fly by

vision) we could not take off. We’re going out for a walk now.

Yenan: Museum and Mao’s Dwellings

We have just come back from our visit to the Museum of the Chinese Revolution at

Yenan and also to several more of Mao's cave dwellings and residences.

MARTIN:: The Museum of the Chinese Revolution is a rather complete history of the revolution

starting from the earliest times, and it contains all the mementos, pictures and things like that.

There was one thing that was noticeably absent, and I approached this subject in the following

way.

I said, Ms. Tsao, “At the entrance to Tien An Mien Square, there are four pictures. Marx,

Engels, Lenin and Stalin. Stalin has a picture the size of Marx, so apparently in Chinese eyes his

stature is comparable to the other three. And yet in this Museum of the Chinese Revolution, I

don’t see the slightest evidence of any contribution that Stalin made to the Chinese revolution.

How is that?” She blinked. She said, “ Our position is that in the later years Stalin made serious

errors, but in the early years he made a real contribution to the people of the world. For example,

his fight in the World War II, in the Chinese Revolution. In the early years of the revolution, he

supplied generals, he trained the troops-~cadres to train the troops.” Somehow that is as far as she

got.

I said, “You know that is an interesting remark that you made when you said that Stalin

in his later years made serious errors. Did Chairman Mao make any serious errors in his later

years?” She said, “ Yes, he did. He made serious errors in his later years, but we don’t talk about

it now.” I said, “That is quite true. When people get old, their brains don’t function as well as

when they were young, and that is one of the errors of not distinguishing between the weakness

of people and purposes which can live forever.” She said, “That’s right, that’s right, I agree with

you completely.” I said, “There should be some way for people to retire from their positions in

power and turn over everything to younger people.” She said that she agreed with me

completely.

Lillie: That is a remarkable interchange. Let me catch up on the unfinished items.

Travel: Grounded in Tai Yuan

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We were down at the airport in Tai Yuan, and grounded. Ms. Tsao arranged with the

authorities, whoever they were, to be able to rest at the airport hotel, and that was an experience.

Although we had just come over mountainous area, we were on a plain. The road outside the

small, low airport terminal was straight and endless, way into the horizon. There were fields on

both sides, and sunflowers hung high over the road. Way off in the distance, at the left, was some

sort of chemical plant, and as we walked down the main road about one hundred yards, we

turned to the right, and there was a low building. It was a hotel, I suppose, for people who were

grounded, a resting place. It consisted of monastic cells,

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Pages 1-3 Introduction

Martin was invited, in the spring of 1978, by the Chinese Academy of Sciences to give a course on Electronic Processes in Organic Crystals at the Institute of

Chemistry in Beijing to a group of 50 scientists from all over China. The invitation was unexpected and overwhelming. China was an unknown to this country at that time. Richard Nixon had made his first visit to China in 1972, but China was still

unknown.

Martin responded that he could not travel to China without his wife. They then invited Lillie as well. They wanted him to teach the subject in two weeks, and then they would host us on a visit to the rest of China for two more weeks. Martin said he could not compress the subject into a two-week course; they compromised on four weeks of teaching, plus that two-week visit.

Martin was the first non-Asian invited since the Revolution to give a complete course at the Beijing Institute of Chemistry. Many years later it emerged that approximately five years before Martin received this invitation, the Institute of Chemistry had proposed that he be invited to lecture; this was during the Cultural Revolution, and the request was not granted at that time.

Martin then settled down to prepare for the course. He prepared a book: a condensation of the first volume of the book he was preparing for Clarendon Press. Learning that equipment in China was limited, we purchased and carried with us an overhead projector, plus acetates and sundry materials that would facilitate the lecturing, and that we would then present as a gift to the Institute of Chemistry/Academy of Science.

Lillie, working at the Learning Clinic at Coney Island Hospital, asked the children there to draw pictures as greetings to the children of China. Faculty Press assembled

107

these messages into two handsome posters that we took with us, and shared with those we visited. We also carried the book, The Snowy Day, with a Chinese translation.

We sought guidance from those who had visited China before us. We could locate very few. I (Lillie) spoke to someone at Yale and also in Washington D.C. who urged me to attempt to revisit any school or center to which I was taken as a visitor. Despite the expressed hospitality of the teachers and staff, no one had ever been permitted to return to a visited facility after the first impressive visit.

The Gang of Four had just been exposed. The Cultural Revolution was on its way out.It was a turning point in the history of China.

Several people gave us addresses of friends and relatives whom we might call and/or visit. This we did.

We carried a small tape recorder on which to log our activities, experiences, impressions on this trip. This was our diary. On the following pages are the first typewritten transcript of those tapes, typos and all.

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AFTER OUR VISIT

Professor Qian Renyuan (Lo Qian) remains our friend, has visited us, as did his wife of

that time, and he corresponds with Martin. As of 2001, he is well and enjoying his work

and his travel.

Several months after our return, we were invited by Tim Considine to a private showing

of the film on China produced by him and Helen Snow on their visit to China, during

which we had met them. Behold! They had visited and filmed the very same school, the

same classroom, the same class, the same students, and the same beautiful lesson that we

had visited, though at a different time.

Within the year after our return, Martin received a call from Tsao. She was in New York,

and wanted to visit us. She had dinner in our home that evening. She was now

Westernized: a permanent wave in her hair, western dress and cosmetics, and clearly non-

socialist in her goals and thinking.

A number of the scientists in Martin’s class came to NYU to study and work in the Radiation and Solid State Laboratory there. Mao came, followed by May, to whom he had been betrothed; he earned his Ph. D. and is now working in New Jersey. Dr. Liu came, followed by his family; he is still working at the lab at NYU. Dr. Jin came, worked in the lab for a year, and returned to China to continue his work there.

Ten years later, in 1988, Martin was invited to China once more for a brief visit. We went there for two weeks, again as guests of the government of China. Many changes had already taken place since our first visit; it was clear that things were changing rapidly. And the Institute of Chemistry was actively involved in the research which Martin had introduced with his lectures.

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.May 10, 2011Today is Tuesday. Sunday was Mother’s Day. Every day since I last wrote, the blog has been on my to-do list. And I have never gotten around to telling you what is happening. I am determined to try.

Friday before Mothers Day helicopters swarmed over our house. It was the day after President Obama announced the capture and death of Osama Ben Laden. And what did that have to do with us on Avenue I? An automobile speeded down McDonald from Avenue J towards I, lost control at the corner of Avenue I, and careened into a breakfast shop, crashing through the windows, and counters, andhurting five or six people (one of them seriously). The driver was not injured, and was not arrested, pending an investigation of why this happened. This was about 600 feet from my home. And about 600 feet from the mosque on Foster Avenue where the Aman was captured after the first World Trade Center Bombing.The helicopters were up there to protect us. Did they really have to rush to Avenu e I from Pakistan That was Friday.

Mothers Day was lovely. Ginny’s father came unexpectedly with flowere and Chinese sweets; he was so happy with Ginny’s progress, and she certainly has made great progress, due to Miriam’s careful attention to her needs, and Mim’s battle with bureaucracies to get for Ginny what she needs.

Best of all, and most difficult, was my Mothers Day gift from Martin. He is having the house refreshed for me: PAINTED! Mr. ? and his assistants have painted the dining room and living room ceilings, and refreshed the porch and the front door so that they no longer look like the front doors and porch of Shantytown residences. All colors have remained the same. Now they are refreshing the kitchen. You can’t believe how much stuff we have accumulated in the kitchen in 65 years! It is now spread all over the rooms on the first floor, and as we look at each piece of “stuff”, we hope to dispose of some of it. They will finish the painting on Monday, and we will then be able to put things in order, and return to living normally.

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The Bellin Story

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Transcript of The Bellin Story