My Early Memories

MY EARLY MEMORIES

By Rae Rubin Levine

My mother's mother, Hana, originally came from Ludge in Poland. . , “Her parents were very wealthy and owned valuable property, including a silk mill.

One day a man named Schmuel came to the mill to purchase silk. He was extremely well educated and spoke Yiddish, German, Russian, Hebrew, Polish, French, and some Italian. He was employed by a high Russian Official named Graff Pototsky as the manager of his estate and interpreter, as well as being his personal friend. Hana's father was so impressed with Schmuel that he invited him to his home for dinner. Schmuel met the beautiful Hana and they fell in love with each other almost immediately. They were married a short time later and went to live in his hometown of Ynishavaca in Russia. Over the years Schmuel became a rich man and owned property including an Inn where travelers stopped to spend the night. I do not remember exactly how many children Hana and Schmuel had altogether, but one daughter was called Chaika (Ida), and she became our mother.

My father's parents, Michel and Nahoma, were business people who lived in a Russian suberb near Stavischa. They had six sons and a daughter who died when she was about thirteen. The sons were named Meyer, Morris (Moishe), Louis, Nathan, Harry, and Israel. Meyer was our father.

I don’t remember exactly how Meyer and Chaika met and fell in love, but they were married and lived in another suburb near Stavischa called Rossoshna, Rossoshna was a beautiful little town where many, high Russian officials had their estates. Meyer was a businessman, and he and Chaika had six children - myself (Rae), Rose, Irving, Esther, Sonia, and Morris (Mische). Our home life was filled with happiness, dancing, singing, and laughter. Life before 1913 was very happy and enjoyable.

My mother was expecting a baby, and my father had to go to Kiev on business. I remember being about eleven years old, and my mother sent me for the midwife. I was kept busy preparing hot water, when the midwife called me and pushed the newborn baby into my arms. This was Mische. I was then sent to the market to get some alcohol (Vodka) to help clean up after the birth, when a drunken peasant stopped me and asked where I was taking the Vodka. I wasn't afraid of him, so I told him and he followed me home. He demanded some of it and my mother refused, telling him we did not sell Vodka. He went away angry and told the police that my mother was selling Vodka without a license. This was a crime in Russia at that time. The police came to our house and found the Vodka. They would not accept my mother's explanation and told her she would have to go to prison. This was impossible with a newborn baby to be cared for, so they said my father would go in her place when he returned from Kiev. We didn't know what we could do until my uncle Israel suggested my mother and I take some food, clothing and money and meet my father about ten miles outside of our village and warn him. My father already had three brothers in America, and we had to convince him to leave Russia immediately and contact his brothers. My father did this and went to Romania where he got in touch with them and left for the United States.

After my father left, we still had some troubles with the police, but they did not arrest my mother. She was well loved by everyone in our town, including the Gentiles, and everyone helped her when they could. Our letters from our father were not sent home, but to a friend's house in a nearby village. We finally received a letter from him stating that Israel, my grandmother (Nahoma) and one child could come to him now, as that was all he could afford. I, being the oldest, was chosen. I was thrilled about going, but also heartbroken about leaving my mother and the other little children behind. It took almost a year to arrange everything, and it was 1914 before we were finally ready to leave. Our luggage was ready and we were waiting for the horse and buggy (the only means of travel then) to take us the fifty miles to the railroad station. When the driver arrived, he told us the terrible news. During the night, a telegram had arrived from Kiev, stating that Russia and Germany were at war. We could not leave Russia now.

We had three years of war, and then the Revolution. During this time there were pogroms against the Jews and even against some Gentiles, and life became miserable and hard for us.

In 1916 our mother died, and I became the head of the family. I was fourteen years old, and was responsible for my five brothers and sisters. Life was a struggle, but we were very fortunate in having Uncle Israel who shared his earnings with us and we somehow survived.

In 1919 we decided that nothing could be worse than the life we had in Russia, and so decided to go to America - somehow. We could all possibly be killed along the way, but we would surely be killed if we stayed in Russia. We had no money and had not received any word from our father in six years, as mail was impossible to receive during all the unrest.

It took us three months just to reach the border. We had to get across to the Romanian border town of Goritza. The Black Market was all around and you could bribe the guards to allow you to cross. Sometimes you made it, but other times you were tricked and robbed, or you could be shot or imprisoned at the other side.

We remained in the Russian side of the border for about three more months waiting for the lake, which separated Russia and Romania to freeze so we could try and sneak across by walking over it. It was very risky, but we had no choice and had to take our chances. Finally the lake froze after a typical Russian snowstorm and we started to make preparations to cross at night. I went to the store to buy bread for our journey and met an old lady of about 84 who was crying pitifully. I spoke to her, and she told me her son and his family had just left to cross over in a sleigh, and rather than take the chance and overload the sleigh, had left her behind saying there was no room for an old lady. She told me, if the lake had not been frozen, she would have drowned herself. I left her and returned to my family, but could not get her out of my mind. I returned to the old woman and told her we would help her across and she could join us. The expression on her face is something I have not forgotten even after all these years.

I prepared everyone with layers of clothing and warm boots as it was bitterly cold and the snow was knee deep. I had to use grandmother Nahoma's cane to feel my way across the snow, and felt my body becoming frozen. It was a night I will never, never forget. Toward daybreak we heard a beautiful sound. A dog was barking which meant we had crossed the lake and were near a house and town where there would be people. We followed the dog and finally saw the outline of the house. I called but nobody answered so I went to the window and tapped on it. Finally a man opened the door a little and said he spoke Russian. I begged him to let us in just to warm up for a little while. The door was opened wider by his wife who let us all in, grasped the cross around her neck, and started to pray. She later told me she was not praying for herself, but because we had made the crossing safely.

These kind people helped the children get undressed and get warm. I had trouble when I tried to remove my heavy stockings. The material had fused with my skin, and after much pain the woman and I managed to remove the stockings. These wonderful people hid us for the rest of the day. I asked the man to please take us to Goritza where we had relatives who could pay him for helping us. I really didn't think I was lying too much, as I thought Uncle Molshe and his family were there as they had crossed the border a few days ahead of us. The man agreed as the town was now full of Border Guards searching houses for people who had crossed illegally and he did not want us to get caught. I really felt bad about promising him payment I wasn't too sure of, until I remembered I had hidden some gold spoons and other small valuables in my pack. I offered something to this man, but he took only the gold spoons, which were worth much, much more than anything we would have paid him in money. That night he took us all to Goritza and shook hands with me wishing us all luck. I thanked God for sparing us and taking care of us so far.

When we arrived in Goritza we were dismayed. The people who arranged housing for refugees wanted to separate us - three children in one place, and the other three in another. I refused to allow this as we were a family and were going to stay all together somehow, even if we had to sleep on the floor of the Synagogue. While the officials were deciding what to do with us, a beautiful young woman of about 22 came to me and asked what the trouble was. After hearing our story, she told me she was married only a short time to a traveling salesman, and had not received word from him in a while. She only hoped that wherever he was, someone else would help him and offered to take us to her home where we could stay together. Her home was like a palace to us and even though my sisters and I did a lot of housework for her, she still treated us like honored guests. We remained with her about three weeks. She found out there was a train filled with soldiers and their families leaving for Keshinev, which was our next destination. She took us to the train and got us seated, even though we had no money with which to pay any fare. Two soldiers came and sat in the empty seats next to us and starting playing with the younger children especially my younger sister who had been taught crocheting by the lovely lady and who fascinated the soldiers with her progress. Rose and I were teenagers and when the conductor came around to collect the fares we pretended to be napping so all he noticed was two sleeping young women with two soldiers playing with a few children, and assumed we were all family and passed us by, as the military and their families were allowed to travel free. When we finally reached Keshlnev we left the train very quickly and stayed only in the side streets so as not to be noticed. We were looking for a Synagogue, which meant safety, and walked for miles. Our hearts were in our mouths, but we were hopeful and finally found a temple where the rabbi let us remain. We stayed there for six more months.

I went job hunting but found it difficult as there were many, many refugees like ourselves, and jobs were scarce. I was very fortunate and met a Polish refugee who helped me get a job with her in a hospital and taught me what to do. I also knew how to sew very well and managed to get some work doing this too. My Polish friend was so pleased with my work that she arranged for me to work for the hospital surgeon, a Dr. Apstein. I helped take temperatures, clean bedpans, and other duties that he showed me. I now held two jobs; sewing during the day, and nursing at night, but I was able to feed the family and no one had to go into the streets and beg for pennies. I worked like this for 31/2 years, but found a place near the hospital where we could live. After paying our rent, we had very little left over for food, much less for clothing, but we managed to stay alive. Fortunately there was a free kitchen for the refugees organized by the townspeople, but the portions allotted were very small and I used to give my share to the younger children, and I lived on bread, honey and water, but again we all survived this too. We finally were able to leave Keshinev for our next stop - Bucharest.

In 1922 after all the years of not hearing from our father, he finally was able to locate us. He had tried in vain all those years to reach us and finally succeeded and sent us the money and necessary papers to come to him in America. We took a train to Constanza, Romania and waited to be cleared for departure. We finally boarded the S.S. Byron, a converted cattle boat and after sailing for 31 days, arrived in America in September 1923.

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