Out of the Shoebox (7 page)

I
stayed home until I was six. There were no kindergartens. When I was six I
started going to a Polish school and in the afternoons I studied in a Hebrew
Jewish school where we studied Hebrew, the Old Testament and Jewish history.
The classes were all in Hebrew. At home we spoke Yiddish with our parents,
Polish with the maids, and amongst ourselves mostly Polish. Our morning classes
were four hours, as were the afternoon classes. I knew Hebrew as well as I knew
Polish. We learned Hebrew in the same accent spoken in Israel. My parents knew
the holy tongue with a thick Eastern European (“Ashkenazi”) accent but didn't
use it regularly.

I
graduated from the Polish high school, and wrote my Polish exit exams as I
continued to study Hebrew. They were very strict in the Polish school. The
teachers would rap our knuckles with a ruler if we were talking or otherwise
disturbing the class. When we addressed the teacher we had to get up and say
"Mr. Teacher". There were many punishments, like standing in the
corner. The Hebrew school, in comparison, was pleasant and easy-going. Most of
the students at the Polish school were Christian. Tuition was high and you had
to pass a lot of exams in order to be accepted. I had Jewish friends in every
class. Jews did not make friends with the Christians, who were anti-Semites.
Despite that, they rarely bothered us. Classes were not co-ed, they had either
boys or girls. In the Hebrew school the classes were co-ed. They weren't strict
there, so we all went there willingly even though it also had exams and report
cards. This was the only Hebrew school in the whole region. All the children
who lived at our house went to both schools, the Polish and the Hebrew."

 I
knew much less about my father's family. My mother never told me anything, and
I didn’t ask. My only source of information was my Aunt Zelda. Zelda Finkelman,
Liebling after she married Joel. She was often around at my father's home.
Zelda's grandfather, Mechel, and my grandfather Itzig were brothers. When
Zelda's father died in 1921 when she was only three, she and her mother and
sisters moved in with my grandfather at 279 Szpitalna St. Zelda and her husband
Joel were among the few who survived the Holocaust.

Zelda's
sister, Zanka, was my mother's classmate and she was the one who introduced
them. "... Come with me to Betar, it will be a chance to be around
Junio... it's the best way to get to know him without anyone being the
wiser..." my mother told me. Even after my grandfather died in 1933 Zelda
stayed with them. From Zelda I learned how strict and unyielding my
grandparents were: "The Finkelmans were always very stubborn, they never
let anything go – not in business and not in their personal life at
home..." The Finkelmans were Zionists. My Uncle Chaskel who studied law
joined a group of immigrants that was known as the Student Aliya and immigrated
to Palestine in 1920. After he came down with malaria he returned to Chortkow,
got married and immigrated to Colombia inspired by stories of South America and
Colombia  from a fellow Zionist pioneer (halutz) who had travelled the world.
My Aunt Simka was the girls’ coordinator in Hashomer during the early '20s. She
immigrated to Palestine in 1935 and returned to Chortkow about a year later.
Simka continued in her Zionist activism as the on-hand doctor for many youth
group activities. My father, the youngest son, was a leader in Betar and lived
up to the movement's vision by immigrating to Palestine in 1932. Zelda told me
that their family originally came from the town of Jagielnica. Like all
Finkelmans my grandfather and his family were lumber merchants. They were
well-to-do which allowed them to provide all their children with higher
education. Zelda told me that my father was the mischievous one. He was always
athletic and played a lot of sports. One of her favorite stories was how he
came downstairs one day all the way from the top floor walking on his hands.
Apparently, my grandmother had never seen anyone walking on their hands before,
let alone doing so on the stairs. She tried tilting her head to correct the
upside-down image, and when she saw my father holding the stairs above his head
she cried that he was possessed and fainted.

I
first met Zelda as a teenager, when she visited Israel. I was immediately taken
with her, and whenever I traveled to the States for work I would visit her if I
could. She and Joel (Lolo) would always be happy to have me and provide me some
more information about our family. And so we spent hours, as she helped me
write down a detailed family tree, or told me with incredible candor about what
she went through during the Holocaust.  How she escaped the horrors, how she
hid in a bunker and lost her family. Zelda let me read the diary she wrote
during the months in hiding, and was happy to answer questions. I regret all
the questions I didn't ask, and have no doubt that I missed a great opportunity
to find out so much more about my family and life in Chortkow as Zelda passed
away in 1998 when she was only 80 years old.

One
evening I sat down and summarized all the things I didn't know. This might seem
odd as people usually sum up what they do know. But in this case I knew there
was no one left who could provide answers and fill the gaps: Was my father's
"capitalist" family forced out of their home after the Soviets
occupation in 1939? They were, after all, lumber merchants and made their
living from commerce. My mother never told me that her family was forced out of
their beautiful house when the Soviets occupied the region. I only learned that
from the address on the postcards that were sent from Chortkow to my parents in
Palestine. The sender's address was now 10 Szkolna St. At first I didn’t
understand the reason for the change of address. Only recently, as I looked deeper
into the facts, I re-read my mother's memoirs and put two and two together. The
sad story became clear, starting with the expropriation of their property and
eviction from their grand house to the town's outskirts. On June 6th 1941 the
German army entered Chortkow. Szkolna Street was within the boundaries of the
Jewish ghetto that was created after the Germans arrived, so I suppose the
family was not removed from their home again. I am certain that my parents knew
what their family in Chortkow was suffering in these difficult years, at least
until the German occupation.

Despite
my many conversations with my Aunt Zelda I never asked her when the Finkelmans
were murdered. I gathered they were forced out of their home and into the
ghetto with the rest of the Jews on Szpitalna Street. Thanks to my aunt, the
doctor, the family probably survived until late August 1942, when everyone was
sent on trains to the Belzec death camp. I found that fact in the testimony of
Dr. Israel Shor who survived. He was a friend of my aunt's. I found his account
regarding her fate in the testimonial pages he submitted to Yad Vashem.

My
mother's parents were, in fact, a generation younger than my father's parents,
which makes his parents’ open-mindedness and support in providing their
children with a higher education that much more remarkable. Even more so
considering that they allowed their two daughters to study away from home. Sima
(Simka) studied medicine, and her sister Zelda (named for her great grandmother
Zelda, as was Aunt Zelda from the States) studied philosophy. Of the two girls,
Sima was unusual for her time: an educated woman, with a profession, active in
Zionist organizations, who remained unmarried until her death at the age of 41.
Perhaps I am doing the eldest daughter, Ethel, a disservice, but as far as I
know she left home at a young age and moved to the US I don't think anyone
knows any more about her, other than she entered the US in 1927 and died in
1958 – information I found in US government records.

Not
one of the Kramers in Chortkow survived the Holocaust. Of the Finkelmans, a few
survived: Zelda Finkelman-Halstuch, my father's sister, her son Sigmund
(Zigush). Zelda Finkelman-Liebling my second cousin and her husband Joel who
survived together, and Eliyahu Loushu Finkelman, another second cousin. Our
grandfathers were brothers. Each of them has a fascinating story to tell.

The
first of our family to perish was Dr. Karl Halstuch, Aunt Zelda's husband who
was a lawyer by trade. There are several accounts of his death. He was caught
in the first Aktion in Chortkow, known as the Savage Aktion on August 25th,
1941. A company of the Gestapo's Flying Brigade, which just arrived in Chortkow
with the Ukrainian Militia abducted a hundred Jews, some from their homes based
on prepared lists, and some straight from the streets. These Jews were led to
the local jail where the Germans let the doctors and pharmacists go. The rest
were loaded onto trucks the next day and murdered in ditches that had been dug
in advance in the Black Forest. Adam, Karl's son was caught along with his
father. A speedy trial at the jail of just a few minutes ended with his release
because he was too young, while his father was sentenced to death. Adam did not
survive the Holocaust; he died after the family was sent to the ghetto as the
result of an infection from appendicitis.

I
never met my Aunt Zelda Halstuch, (Father's sister), nor her son Zigush. They
were both sent to the Janowska labor camp in Lviv and were of the few in the
camp who survived. After escaping the horrors, they immigrated to Colombia and
lived with my Uncle Chaskel. How Zigush survived by hiding in a potato pantry,
I learned from his memoirs which were posted online. He used to share his
memories with students in Colombia on Holocaust remembrance days.

My
Uncle Eliyahu Finkelman, Loushu, was also "lucky". While Chortkow was
still under Soviet rule he was caught as a young boy, after being ratted out
for hiding food or some other valuables. Loushu, the son of capitalists, was
tried and sent to a jail in Siberia and so sentenced to live while his family
was exterminated. It is hard to imagine what a young man, all alone, would go
through in Siberia. But fate is a fickle mistress and he got to keep his life.

As
for Aunt Zelda Finkelman-Liebling's story, I knew it well. Her family was sent
to a labor camp from which people would be sent to death camps for
extermination. Her husband Joel, a dentist by trade, treated the camp staff.
Before the camp was liquidated and all its inmates killed the camp commander
allowed Joel to choose who would be allowed to escape with him – his wife Zelda
or his sister. Joel chose Zelda. Zelda and Joel escaped, leaving their family
behind. Zelda's diary, written in their bunker-hideaway after their escape provides
a glimpse into a terrible world full of inconceivable physical and mental
hardships. Half of her diary was lost during the war, but the other half
survived along with Zelda. Zelda and Joel immigrated to the US and had two
children: Mordechai and Linette.

Digging
into our family history took up a lot of my free time. I felt the need to
create a memorial for my parents' families. I had a collection of family photos
of those who were no longer with us. When I found a website dedicated to the
memory of the Jewish community in Chortkow, founded by Miri Gershoni the
daughter of Chortkow survivors, I decided it was the right place to pay tribute
to my family's memory. I began scanning the photos, making sure I knew who was
who and relevant dates so I could add descriptions to the photos. Once again I
opened the family tree I made that night with Aunt Zelda in New Jersey.
Suddenly each name had a face, I knew how different people were connected to
one another, which ones were friends, and each photo told its own story.

In
July 2012, my sister Ilana forwarded to me a letter from Miri Gershoni with
questions about our family. The timing was perfect; I had just that day
finished scanning the photos and adding a few words to each one. I contacted
Miri and a few days later we met at my home. It was a fascinating meeting. I
was impressed and moved by the task Miri took upon herself to document and
commemorate the community of Chortkow. I was happy to share everything I knew
of my family, and happier still to make this connection which allowed me to
find out more about them. After a couple of days I organized all my material
and sent it to Miri. I was amazed by her dedication and hard work, as she
uploaded the photos and descriptions the very next day.

Even
more incredible were the events of the next few days. While Raya and I were on
a trip to Acadia National Park in Maine, I received an email from Miri:

"Is
Pepe Kramer part of your family? I have a number of photos in Tonka (Tonia's)
Sternberg's collection (on the website) with the name Pepe Kramer written on
them. I'm sending them to you. Tonka Sternberg also has a picture of Moshe
Kramer that is an exact copy of the one you have. I assume then that Pepe is a
relative of your mother's."

I
was stunned by the email. I had no idea who Pepe Kramer was. I got online
immediately and found the memorial page for the families Sternberg and Vermuth
on the Chortkow website. Next to photo #10 it said: "... Moshe Kramer, a
good friend of Tonia. His sister, Pepe Kramer was her best friend. Both came
from a large wealthy family of which no one survived." This was incredible
– finding a picture of my Uncle Moshe on the page of another family. I had no
idea who Pepe Kramer was. I assumed it was a nickname of my Aunt Selka's or
that I’d found another of my mother's sisters whom I’d never heard of, but that
seemed unlikely.

So
we went walking in Acadia, Raya and I; my eyes seeing the beautiful landscape,
but my mind busy with this puzzle. It wasn't Selka... Selka was two years older
than Moshe and I don't think they were both friends with the same girl. In
addition, Pepe seemed like a nickname for another person, it didn't
"feel" like it belonged to Selka. I thought that had it been Selka's
nickname it would have come up somehow, I would have heard it from my mother,
or it would have appeared in her memoirs.