Hebrew School

In the mid 1930s Hebrew School did not exist as we know it now. Hebrew customs, observances and history were leaned in the home because they were practiced in ordinary everyday living. As the holidays were observed, one learned about the holidays. When we ate or prepared food, we learned what was permissible to eat and what was not. When we read the Torah, we learned Hebrew history. If the Father was so inclined, he taught the son to read Hebrew; not to understand it but only to read it. This was necessary in order to go to services and pray. My Father was not so inclined so I was sent to a Rebbe, Mr Rudnitzky, to learn to read Hebrew. He lived just south of Garrison Boulevard. I went to the Rebbe’s home and sat at the dining room table with a half dozen other nine and ten year old boys and read prayers. The Rebbe was also a Shochet, a ritual slaughter of chickens. As we read, a housewife would appear with a live chicken. The Rebbe would don a rubber apron and admonish us to continue reading. He would then disappear with the housewife and the live chicken. A screech later, he would reappear with blood and feathers covering his apron. I am reminded of a Yiddish song, sang frequently by my Father, which went, translated of course, “On the hearth burns a fire and the house is hot. And the Rebbe teaches small children, the aleph beth.”

When the time approached for Bar Mitzvah, I was sent to a Rabbi to learn the Haftorah. He lived on Classen Avenus west of the 4600 block of Park Heights Avenue. I was taught the musical notes, not taught my particular Haftorah, so that I could read any Haftorah. This was in 1937 and a momentous change occurred in my life. I discovered the Baltimore Orioles. I walked to my Haftorah lessons and passed an auto repair shop at Hayward and Park Heights Avenue. Outside sat a very old man (he must have been at least 60 years old) reading the Baltimore Sun. He introduced me to the International League Baltimore Orioles. I met George Puchinelli, Ab Wright and Abernathy patrolling the outfield. I met Les Powers and Smoky Joe Martin at the corners and the battery of Bucky Crouse and Hy Vandenberg. I learned to hate the Newark Bears, top farm team of the New York Yankees. IT WAS GLORIOUS! Baseball was already known to me. We played softball incessantly on the vacant lot on Ingleside Avenue. My Father loved baseball and every Sunday we went to see the Pimlico All Stars (Semi-pro, a hat was passed around the spectators to cover expenses) play where Northwester High School grounds are now.

I have never lost my love for the O’s.

Girls were different. There was no Bat Mitzvah, girls did not learn Hebrew. They learned to cook and prepare for and celebrate the Jewish holidays. They did not play team sports; they jumped rope, played hide and seek and tag. It was not until Word war II and the early Forties that things began to change.