Notes from an American Shul
By Toby Hecht
My great-grandmother Fruma Piltchik passed away in early winter of 1964. It was only a few months after the family physician Dr Borenstein telephoned with news of her diagnosis. He was crying. She was 69 and too young to leave this world. The neighborhood came out in droves to mourn her death. The pallbearers were eight grandchildren, my father and his cousins Shlome Chaim Genauer and the Tillim brothers felt privileged to carry their bubby. Walking four on each side they carried her out of her house and down Keap street which had been closed for the funeral. Dr Borenstein was there handing out smelling salts to calm the overwhelming emotions. The boys marched along, that cold clear day, with no idea of where they were being led. As they walked, the crowd grew behind them escorting the procession. Rabbi Yackov Kamanetzky, Rosh Yeshiva of Torah V’Daas stood outside in attendance. The boys turned the corner arriving in front of the Stolin shul located on Rodney Street between Bedford and Lee. Walking right behind them was the well-known R’ Yomtov Ehrlich, a deeply pious Jew and a Stoliner hasid. He composed hasidic songs, sang and played the accordion. His music had been a favorite of Bubby Frumi.
Suddenly Yomtov shocked the somber mood by shouting at the top of his voice, “Luzt arein dee Balabusta fun dee shul” Let in the Matriarch of the Shul!
And with that pronouncement the boys marched Bubby Frumi right through the grand doors of the synagogue and into the main sanctuary.
Frumi’s family was from Pinsk and Minsk of White Russia. Her father and mother, Efraim Aaron and Debrushka Tanzman decided to leave the old country for the “goldene medina,”America. It was time. Her father left in 1903 and sent for them as soon as he was able. Before leaving, Frumi went with her mother and three siblings to the famed Yenuka- young Rebbe and patriarch of the Stolin Hasidic dynasty for a blessing. When her mother introduced her, the Yenuka said in yiddish,
“Takeh, Ich ken zen, zee is ah Fruma”
Indeed, I can see she is a sincere one.
He blessed each of them and told a worried Debrushka,
“Torah tzian zich kein America.” Torah is being drawn to America.
Perhaps he sensed the catastrophic death trap that Europe would become.
America was the goldene medina, yes but it was also a risky business. The fear that the traditional values of the shtetl would be undermined was real. And it was for good reason. The lure of acceptance was hard to resist.
Many left everything in the old country thinking they could start fresh. For other families it was a more gradual process, clinging until the fingers loosened one by one. Then there were those who were determined to stay committed no matter what. I’m reminded of Nechemia the prophet when he rebuilt Jerusalem with one hand on the hammer and one on the sword. Though for him it was quite literal, the Tanzman family spirit was similar: build again without any compromises. It would be hard, but at least the physical haven that America promised seemed reliable.
They settled on the lower east side with other newcomers. Debrushka and Efraim Aaron stayed strong, but it wasn't easy on the youth growing up in a new country. Despite a firm grip many families succumbed to the reality of American life.
In order to stay employed you had to work on Saturday, the Jewish Shabbos. Who didn’t have a family member that compromised the sanctity of Shabbos to fill a child's belly! Many cried as they went to work on their beloved Shabbos. Three of the Tanzman children Elya, Sarah and Abie surrendered. Square dancing on Friday evenings and communist sympathies soon followed. Assimilation was common for even the most devout of families. Fathers went to Shul on Shabbos and sons went to work. The alternative was getting fired every Monday.
Frumi married Nissan Pilchick, a tzugekuminer- newcomer to Stolin. Efraim Aaron told his new son-in-law that the best nadin-dowry was that he became a Stoliner chasid. Nissan took Frumi for walks on the Brooklyn bridge in his fashionable spats. Fashionable as he was, his grip on yiddishkeit was from the third category. US Steel had nothing on his strength and discipline. When he showed up every Monday for work, his boss would ask him in yiddish,
“Vu bist du given oif Shabbos?”
Where were you on Shabbos?”
To which Nissan answered with gusto,
“I was in shul! I ate cholent and kugel and davened with geshmak!”
He was fired every Monday.
In 1923 R’ Yaakov Chaim Perlow of Stolin, son of the Yenuka, came to New York and settled in Williamsburg. Frumi and Nissan, now called Momma and Pappa by their three young children, Yitzchok, Sarh’l and Faige moved to be closer to the Rebbe. Their home was down the block from the Stolin Shul.
Delighted with the opportunity Frumi and Nissan became caretakers of the shul. Someone had to do it, and they felt honored. It was an old European style, cavernous with large doors and a balcony with curtains for the vaiber shul-the women’s section. A chandelier hung from the ceiling and the Aron Kodesh that held the Torah scrolls was front and center.
Frumi would inspect the shul before Shabbos and holidays and ensured the bathrooms were clean. When the hired help didn’t show, she cleaned them herself. And Nissan always kept the sanctuary spotless. They had four more children, my grandmother Shaindel, her sister Shulamis and twin boys Yisroel and Meir Eliezer, weighing in at 8lb each.
With no steady income and the looming economic crisis, life conditions were very challenging. However, the Piltchik home though sparse in material goods was rich and overflowing in more important ways. Frumi was a warm and loving woman who consciously built an oasis for her children amidst the tumult outside. Her home was the place friends clamored to in their free time, as she made everyone feel comfortable. There was always a plate of her popular sugar cookies waiting for them.
Education was very important to both parents. Frumi never had formal schooling and expected good grades from her children; a stellar report card was a prize. The boys, smart and scholarly, attended a local Lubavitcher yeshiva. The girls attended public elementary school until Nissan convened a committee to start a small branch of the all-girls Beis Yaakov for the community. They would continue to Brooklyn’s Eastern District High. The four sisters were beautiful, full of spunk and personality. They were smart and dedicated students. Upon finishing their homework Frumi whisked them off to the public library saying,
“We’re going to read books to learn more than we learn at school.”
Nissan himself came home every day with a copy of the NYT.
Yiddish was spoken at home between the parents and to the children, who like the typical first generation, responded in English. Nissan was strict. A devoted father, he kept a close eye on his children sometimes to their chagrin. In those uncertain times both parents were determined to keep assimilation off their doorstep. The depth of Torah and mitzvos that permeated their home left a vivid impression, one that impacted their children for life.
Still regularly unemployed, Nissan started his own business as a customer peddler. Frumi worked with him collecting the bimonthly dues from the neighborhood. They loved her. She spoke to them in Yiddish, they spoke to her in Italian, and everyone got along famously!
Shabbos was a respite from the rest of the week and the world. Notwithstanding the daily struggles, the seventh day was remarkably beautiful. In her honor, Frumi went to the fish market and bought fresh fish for 10 cents a pound. She went to the chicken market to buy a chicken and took it to the local shochet- butcher in Williamsburg. She plucked and cleaned them herself and made the farfel (couscous) and lokshen (noodles) from scratch. When the kids came in to help cook, she shooed them out with “Arois!” They helped with the cleaning instead, singing and dancing in the kitchen. Their home was always open to Shabbos guests. The girls moved into their mother’s bed leaving their own for travelers visiting from abroad. On Friday afternoon Frumi would ban anyone from ringing the bell so Nissan could rest before Shabbos.
There was of course the Tish, Friday night dinner every week in shul with the Rebbe. The special Shabbos zmiros-songs like Ko Echsof (https://youtu.be/EGLA79z_Brk) pierced the soul, its melody that beautiful.
Frumi went to shul with the girls every Shabbos and Yomtov where they would greet the women with a “gut shabbos,” and a kiss on the cheek. For many years she was the zogerkein shul, the ‘speaker; literally. Many women couldn’t read Hebrew, their families had been in America a long time. They would gather around and repeat the prayers after her, word for word.
Stoliner Chasidim are known for the depth of their prayers and strength of their voices. The services on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur were especially moving and powerful. The davening was long, so Frumi brought little slices of honey cake for the kids.
During the week there were daily prayer services, everyone was welcome. Most evenings one could find Nissan and other congregants gathered around the stove in shul studying Talmud late into the night. No matter how challenging each day was, the group would learn until their eyes grew weary. Reluctant to stop, Nissan would sigh mournfully that it brought “trerin in eigen” tears in the eyes, to close the Gemara.
In the words of that generation: They didn’t sleep, they rested, they didn't eat, they tasted.Both were accomplished with the intention of serving God, not to overindulge.
Frumi went door to door selling tickets for the strawberry fest, an annual fundraiser for the shul. When there was an appeal in the shul she would represent the women on the balcony, calling out, “A froi un a numen gebt tzen dollar- an anonymous woman is pledging 10 dollars!”
A hefty sum in those days!
In 1953 the construction of the Brooklyn Queens Expressway uprooted the Piltchik family home, so they moved around the corner from the shul. It was notably better as they were then able to access the shul directly through the back yard!
Frumi had deep emunas tzaddikim, belief in the righteous. When her children called for advice, she shared wisdom with them candidly and always with love.
My grandmother Shaindel was a young mother when her father-in-law, R Shmuel, moved in with them. Their apartment was small, so his bed was in the living room. One day she called her mother lamenting that R’ Shmuel would accidentally spill water on the floor when ritually washing his hands. She was therefore wary of buying a new carpet. Frumi listened and responded to her in yiddish with the unforgettable line,
“Those waters? Those ARE your Persian rugs!”
She never complained about it again.
In the words of her daughters, Bubby Frumi was a “tzadekes,” a righteous and holy woman. She was beautiful inside and out, devoted to her family, the Shul and community.
What wouldn’t she do for another?
After bringing her simple aron-coffin into her beloved shul, the family buried her in the small Stolin cemetery in New Jersey.
Her tombstone reads “She was a Chasidista”- a sincere hasid, as told by the Rebbe.
Epilogue:
The Pesach after Bubby Frumi died, the grandchildren were called in by Zaidy Nissan to help prepare the house for the holiday. Just his luck, my father got the job to clean the oven. It took hours while Nissan hovered over him with a list making sure it was done just right. When my father was done and exhausted, Nissan announced in yiddish,
“Don’t tell your mother, but now we’re going to Shul.”
He instructed my father to gently gather the holy bits of loose paper that had fallen from prayer books and sefarim. He kindly said,
“A broom is disrespectful” so my father got on his knees to use his hands. With that, Nissan disappeared from the sanctuary. My father was lying flat out on the floor reaching under benches when Nissan reappeared carrying a big ladder and a pail. He turned his head and watched as his grandfather placed the ladder under the chandelier, climbed all the way up with the pail, and began to clean the beautiful fixture. Suddenly Nissan sang out with fire and love,
“Aibeshter! Mer rainen dee Shul far Pesach! Master of the universe, we are cleaning the shul for Pesach!”
Toby Hecht is the Director of Shabtai.
She can be reached at: toby@shabtai.tv