During the early 1930’s, when the time arrived when I was to go to Hebrew School, there were no Hebrew Schools per se in the Pimlico area. The closest was Isaac Davidson on Shirley Avenue. There were only individual Hebrew teachers, rebbes, and this is where I went. Mr. Rudnitzky was a Shochet, a ritual killer who slaughtered chickens and other fowls in the prescribed Kosher manner. He lived in a row house at the end of a street off Garrison Avenue about three blocks west of Park Heights Avenue. He had five other students, all boys about eight years old. We only learned to read Hebrew. We learned about holidays and other Jewish rituals and customs at home where they were practiced throughout the year. We also learned Jewish values from our parents and other family members. We students sat around his dining room table and read Hebrew from a Siddur, a prayer book. When a housewife appeared with a live chicken to be slaughtered, Mr. Rudnitzky donned a large rubber apron, waved his arms and said, “Lez, lez,” (read, read) and disappeared through the back door into the yard. We would hear a loud screech and Mr. Rudnitzky would reappear with blood and feathers clinging to his rubber apron.
When the time arrived for my Bar Mitzvah, I was sent to a Rabbi who taught the Haftorah. He lived on Classen Avenue, the street off Park Heights Avenue just before the Avalon movie theater. I was first taught the notes; the little sqiggles and lines and dots around the Hebrew letters. Once the notes were learned, any Haftorah could be chanted. The Bar Mitzvah boy (there was no such thing as a Bat Mitzvah for girls) was taught only the Haftorah, not the Torah portion or the prayers. I cannot remember a “lavish Kiddush” after the service; probably herring, kichlas and whiskey for the men.
My Father insisted that I go to Hebrew College located on Eutaw Place and Preston Street in a converted mansion. I hated it. I did not have the basic background knowledge; I could translate very few Hebrew words. It was frustrating, and when my grades were very poor (as opposed to A’s at Poly) my father realized that Kenny would never become a Talmud Chochon (wise student of the Talmud). I lasted less than a year.
My father realized the lack of a Hebrew School in the Pimlico area and he was later instrumental in the establishment of a Hebrew School affiliated with the Petach Tikvah Congregation.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Toys
I had very few bought toys. Plastics were in the future so toys were made of wood or metal or soft goods. Parents fashioned toys from what was at hand. String was passed between two holes in a large button and the two ends were tied together. The button was pushed to the center of the string and twirled several times. When the ends of the string were pulled, the button spun. Match boxes became containers to store valuables. Matches came in small cardboard boxes. Kitchen matches were larger and came in larger boxes. By sewing a small button on the front of each box and fastening the boxes together with a paste made of flour and water, you had a miniature bureau. There were marbles and baseball cards. For a penny, you got five baseball cards and a piece of bubble gum. I collected hundreds of baseball cards in cigar boxes. The last I saw of them was under the back porch at 3326 Ingleside Avenue.
I loved to read and as a reward, I would be given a book. My father worked several doors from Pippen’s Used Bookstore and would purchase books for twenty-five cents each. This was a lot of money when you consider that the first minimum wage in 1935 was twenty-five cents per hour. During the summer I would take a book and a pitcher of ice water and lie under a tree on the lawn and read. There were the Rover Boys, the Ranger Boys and Tom Swift series. I am certain that there were others but I can’t remember them.
As I grew older, there were other “toys.” A rusty skate was a treasure. We would separate the two ends of the skate and nail each piece to the two ends of a three foot piece of board. There were always pieces of board and nails lying about. An orange crate and a piece of wood nailed to the board provided guidance. Voila! We had a vehicle to ride.
A softball, a bat and an empty lot provided hours of exercise and entertainment. I lived in a new neighborhood; our house was built in 1924. There was an empty lot between houses. The ball cost twenty-five cents; I don’t remember the cost of the bat. We used a softball because gloves were needed with a hardball and we did not have money to buy gloves. Ingleside Avenue had just been paved and when the ball went down into the sewer, several of us lifted the grate (it was heavy cast iron) and the smallest one scooted down into the sewer and retrieved the ball. I can remember travelling under the street to the manhole and up and out onto the middle of the street. We had no problem with traffic; there was none.
My parents had no debts other that the house mortgage. If you did not have the cash on hand, you did not buy. We did not consider ourselves poor; there was enough to eat, clothes to wear and a house to live in. For us, that was enough.
I loved to read and as a reward, I would be given a book. My father worked several doors from Pippen’s Used Bookstore and would purchase books for twenty-five cents each. This was a lot of money when you consider that the first minimum wage in 1935 was twenty-five cents per hour. During the summer I would take a book and a pitcher of ice water and lie under a tree on the lawn and read. There were the Rover Boys, the Ranger Boys and Tom Swift series. I am certain that there were others but I can’t remember them.
As I grew older, there were other “toys.” A rusty skate was a treasure. We would separate the two ends of the skate and nail each piece to the two ends of a three foot piece of board. There were always pieces of board and nails lying about. An orange crate and a piece of wood nailed to the board provided guidance. Voila! We had a vehicle to ride.
A softball, a bat and an empty lot provided hours of exercise and entertainment. I lived in a new neighborhood; our house was built in 1924. There was an empty lot between houses. The ball cost twenty-five cents; I don’t remember the cost of the bat. We used a softball because gloves were needed with a hardball and we did not have money to buy gloves. Ingleside Avenue had just been paved and when the ball went down into the sewer, several of us lifted the grate (it was heavy cast iron) and the smallest one scooted down into the sewer and retrieved the ball. I can remember travelling under the street to the manhole and up and out onto the middle of the street. We had no problem with traffic; there was none.
My parents had no debts other that the house mortgage. If you did not have the cash on hand, you did not buy. We did not consider ourselves poor; there was enough to eat, clothes to wear and a house to live in. For us, that was enough.
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