UNFORGETTABLE JEWISH CHARACTERS FROM KROLEVETS

In the declining days of Jewish Krolevets, there still remained a few Jewish personalities from the glory days of shtetl life. R’ Heishke remembers and describes them as only he can.

R’ SHMUEL KUMEN TZU GEIN

Among the Jews in our town of Krolevets was a man worthy of attention. His name was Shmuel Ber Zakorsky but he was called, Kumen tzu gein (Yid. lit. coming to go, idiomatic usage for – about to arrive or happen). Why? It’s very simple. He rightfully earned his name since, when he spoke to people, it made no difference about what, he would interject the words “kumen tzu gein.” “How are you Yankel, kumen tzu gein,” … “What a lowlife this Tichenko is, kumen tzu gein,” … “May the spirits go into his father’s father, kumen tzu gein,” and so on, all the time.

When I davened with a minyan or when I would see Shmuel Ber somewhere else speaking to someone, I would sneak off to a spot not far away in order to hear how he constantly said, “kumen tzu gein.” I sought every opportunity for this, and each time I heard it, I would have to restrain myself from bursting into laughter. I marveled at how people heard him say “kumen tzu gein” so often in their conversations with him and they did not laugh at all.

Once upon a time, before the communist revolution, he was an important person in the town’s community life. I heard that in the good times, Shmuel Ber had a Judaica store. People bought talleisim, tzitzis, mezuzos, menorahs, Siddurim, Chumashim, and so on. When the Red government took control, they quickly eliminated all these counter-revolutionary “treife” Jewish religious items. It was somewhat of a miracle that they did not eliminate him too, as they usually did.

DREIDELS LIKE THESE

In my time already, he no longer openly sold Jewish items, both because it was very dangerous and because in Russia of those days, sacred items were not available; not t’fillin, not a Siddur, not a Chumash, etc. Shmuel Ber had a few Jewish items hidden away even in my time. He even had some bundles of tzitzis and a nice amount of dreidels (we didn’t call it a dreidel but a “gor”). It is interesting that dreidels like those Shmuel Ber had, I did not find among all the many dreidels available in wealthy America and other places.

Shmuel Ber’s dreidels were made of lead and had four thin sides ornately crafted with wings, with protruding letters, Nun, Gimmel, Hei, Shin. Apparently, since these were nice dreidels, he had a large supply of them. It helped that, sadly, after two decades of Communist rule there were very few people interested in even nice dreidels like these. He had no parchments for mezuzos but he had cases and other things like that.

Shmuel Ber “kumen tzu gein” was one of the most religious Jews among the balabatim in town. He had a long, full beard and at home they said he wasn’t a batlan (good-for-nothing) and he still earned money from his secret stash. I held a special place of privilege for him in that he occasionally pinched my cheek. More than the pinch, I took pleasure when he would say: Nu, bachur’chik, are you learning to read Hebrew already or Chumash? – with the addition of “kumen tzu gein.”

With my natural curiosity I wondered why on earth he said the words “kumen tzu gein.” He was an intelligent person and not, G-d forbid, crazy. But I never discovered this secret.

BETZALEL THE T’HILLIM-SAYER

In Krolevets there was a man about whom my grandfather said that he was a very simple and very precious Jew. His name was Betzalel (I don’t remember his last name). At home we would call him, “Betzalel der T’hillim zoger” (the T’hillim-sayer). And not for naught, since it was very rare indeed that I saw him without his T’hillim. He was very weak when it came to Torah study. He sometimes joined a back bench for a shiur in Ein Yaakov (in the good years), but even then he held his T’hillim hidden away and whispered quietly.

I don’t recall him working at any job and I think he did not have children. How did he and his wife support themselves? Who knows? He had a blonde beard. He was also a very peculiar person. My mother told me that every time he went to the market with his wife and she bought potatoes, beets and other things, he would stand off to the side with his T’hillim.

When the Jews of Krolevets still davened in the Old Shul (before the Red Thieves looted it), I would stroll over there on Shabbos afternoon. I don’t remember if anyone else was in the shul, but Betzalel the T’hillim-sayer sat and recited T’hillim very sweetly. He would say the T’hillim and occasionally kiss it, not on the letters on the page but around the worn out margins. Why? He apparently had some reason for this.

At the table, my father and grandfather would often talk about the loftiness of a simple person like this, and they would mention that this is the “simple Jew” that the holy Baal Shem Tov and the Rebbeim praised so highly. In my childish innocence I envied him, regardless of the fact that he always went to the market with his wife. I also greatly desired to see his stained and kissed-up T’hillim up close, but I did not have the nerve.

As I mentioned in an earlier chapter, he was the one who, in the middle of the Shavuos meal, came running to our house with his face white as chalk and shouted to grandfather: Oy Rebbe, what shall we do? They just took our last shul …

HILLYE THE SHOCHET

Yes, Hillye was the shochet in Krolevets and that is how he was referred to, but nebach, he trembled in fear when they said his name with the title of shochet. A professional such as he, was just the candidate to be exiled to Siberia by the Soviets. The truth is that Hillye, R’ Hillel, was also the mohel in town. Before the Old Shul was closed down, he was the main baal t’filla, mamash the chazan, on the Yomim Nora’im. R’ Hillel was a short man but his voice was very powerful.

I remember that I stood next to the lectern in shul when he raised his voice for “HaMelech.” It seemed to me that the lectern shook. I remember that he had a reddish-brown beard and a deep crease between his eyebrows. At home, I heard that he was one of the Chassidim-T’mimim who learned in Tomchei T’mimim in Lubavitch, but he was somewhat distant from public Chassidic life and the secret farbrengens held by the few Lubavitcher families. Why? I do not recall hearing anything on the subject.

Throughout my childhood in Krolevets, Hillye the shochet shechted in his barn. He would accept only those chickens that were brought to him hidden in baskets. To shecht an animal, even a calf, would have been outright dangerous. He was even fearful about any talk on the subject, so throughout those years we had no meat at all. I remember that when we went to Moscow to Aunt Chana Shapiro, I had a taste, for the first time in my life at the age of thirteen, of actual meat. It tasted strange to me.

Hillye the shochet was a very fearful person and when he had to make a bris one time, he warned the family that there should not be any strangers present. I think that in later years he was even afraid to daven as the chazan on the Yomim Nora’im. Who knew what could happen?

When I occasionally went to him with a chicken to shecht, he was very friendly. He asked me what I was learning and tested me on Chumash or Gemara. It is interesting that what sticks in my memory is a childish, annoying, even somewhat silly question. Since I want to mark down every memory from those days, I have written this too. I ask forgiveness from those who don’t find it appealing.

He asked me: How do you say “Sof Ha’zman” in Lashon Ha’kodesh (Hebrew)?

Of course I was confused since “Sof Ha’zman” is already in Lashon Ha’kodesh! Hillye explained: “‘Sof Ha’zman’ is actually comprised of three words in Yiddish: saf (shaf), haz, mahn. ‘Shaf’ in Lashon Ha’kodesh is ‘tzon-sheep,’ ‘haz’ is ‘arneves-rabbit,’ and ‘mahn’ is ‘ish-man.’ Do you get it? ‘Sof Ha’zman’ in Lashon Ha’kodesh would be ‘tzon, arneves, ish.’” Nu, foolish things stick in your mind.

YEKEL’S HAT

A very fascinating personality in our town of Krolevets was someone by the name of Yekel (Yaakov) Ginsberg. First of all, he was the only person in Krolevets and perhaps in hundreds of surrounding towns, who wore a Chassidic hat, known in Russian as a “shliyapa.” It was high and had a hump like distinguished people used to wear before the revolution (and others continued to wear on the other side of the Iron Curtain).

People wondered where he got a hat like that in those days. In the empty stores you could only buy a kartuz, a simple cap. Who saw a proper hat back then? (In my childish thinking I also wondered: Why didn’t they arrest Ginsberg?). He actually did not live in Krolevets but in Bobruisk. I heard that he was a big bookseller and apparently, even after the revolution, he dealt in that.

He talked constantly, without a break, with anyone at all. He always had what to say. When he spoke to someone, he spoke in a sing-song and swayed from side to side. I heard it whispered that you could buy all sorts of illegal items from him, “hard” and “soft” (i.e. gold and dollars). In my final years in Krolevets I did not encounter him any more.