Kristallnacht - The Excuse Behind the Glass

Kristallnacht; like all things; has a beginning. We know the end result; the looting and burning of Jewish synagogues and businesses by ordinary Germans. These are the people who later said they knew nothing; kind of like Sgt. Schultz in the TV sitcom “Hogan’s Heroes”.

But the people doing the looting and burning that night were not in uniforms, and some may not have even really embraced the Nazi ideology. So how then did they wind up with bricks and bats in hand, smashing windows, looting and burning; beating people in the street who they merely suspected of being Jewish?

Many "reasons" have been manufactured over the years as to just what triggered Kristallnacht. Excuses have been invented to explain away the sudden outburst, which grew from something else which had been brewing. The following is the story of the actual incident which served as the spark which ignited Kristallnacht.

As it turns out, the incident; which served as that spark; took place only hours earlier, in Paris. It serves to remind us all that everything we do, no matter our intentions, must be undertaken with a look to the unintended consequences of our actions.

Kristallnacht was an abhorent display of hatred. Make no mistake about it, with or without this incident, the Holocaust which grew from it was going to happen anyway. This night was merely a taste of what was to come.

So, the following is not an excuse, nor an explanation. It's just the story of what happened in Paris which ignited the already noxious gas in the air that night back home in Germany.

Here then, is the story.

In 1938 the Germans began to deport Jews who were not born in Germany. “Germany for Germans!” was the cry. But there was a snag; the Jews being deported by the German government were refused entry back into Poland; which had not yet been conquered by the Nazi’s. That would be the next year. You have to marvel at the fact that the Polish people seemed to agree with Hitler’s stance against Jews, but when he conquered Poland one year later, he became evil incarnate.

Anyway, a Jewish man in Paris; Herschel Grynszpan, born of Polish-Jewish parents who lived in Germany; was outraged at the thought of his parent’s being involved in this game of political football. Moreover he decided to do something about it. His parents names were Riva and Sendel Grynszpan.

Taking himself to the German Embassy he asked to see someone; anyone. Now, that should have been a clue. But when you’re a member of the “master race” you don’t really think anyone is going to hurt you, so he was ushered in to see a low level attaché; a man named Ernst Vom Rath, who had spoken up in defense of the Jews before.  The young Jewish man living in Paris knew nothing about this German official and shot him dead.

Back in Germany the Brown shirts were grinning from ear to ear. Now the Jews weren’t only taking jobs away from the German people; they were killing them! They were killing them in foreign countries! They were killing even the moderate Germans who supported them! No longer could the people afford to wait. They must act now! They must send a clear and decisive message that the world would never forget.

Of course the irony is that; although the world would never forget; after the war was over you couldn't find a single person in that city who remembered where they were on the night of Kristallnacht. Like Sgt. Schultz; they knew nothing.

"The Pawnbroker" with Rod Steiger (1965)

Very few actors ever hone their craft to the knife’s edge the way Rod Steiger did. Bogart, DeNiro, even Denzel Washington are all recognizable as themselves in most films. Steiger was on a par with Frederic March, another actor with that chameleon like quality which enabled the viewer to suddenly go, “Hey, isn’t that (insert name here)?” half way through a film, and still not be sure it was until the final credits rolled. Walter Huston had that same magic. He was tall, about 6’2”, yet he is always remembered as the wizened little miner in “Treasure of the Sierra Madres.” A giant of an actor, he just played it small.

Rod Steiger’s credits include the corrupt union boss in “On the Waterfront”, the Police Chief in “In the Heat of the Night” (it took him a year to stop chewing gum after that film), the disgruntled juror forced to face his own prejudice in “Twelve Angry Men” and a score of other roles. But more than any other role, his performance in “The Pawnbroker” was possibly his most searing as he portrays a man who has lost his wife and children to the the Nazi’s, along with the ability to love or even feel.

His assistant in the shop wants to learn to be a businessman, just like his boss. He even asks the Pawnbroker to teach him how to be a Jew- to make money- to share his secrets. The Pawnbrokers scathing reply is in the clip below.

There is always a steady succession of people who are down on their luck who come to the shop to pawn the most trivial of their possessions in order to survive. The Pawnbroker dispassionately serves their needs, all the while cursing his own past and the misery of the world about him. He has a partnership with the local crime boss, who used the pawnshop to “launder” the profits he makes from dealing drugs and pimping prostitutes. The Pawnbroker seems indifferent to the misey which supplies the money he lives upon.

Constantly plagued by memories of the concentration camp, he inhabits a world filled with flashbacks to the most horrifying moments of his wartime ordeal. One of those memories involves being forced to look into the building where the female prisoners are forced to work as sex slaves. One of the women he sees is his own wife. When one of the local working girls comes to him with something to pawn she offers him sex in addition to the trade as a way of getting more money.

The Pawnbroker finds himself in a moral dilemma; haunted by the memory of his wife’s ordeal and at the same time facilitating the misery of others in his present day world. He goes to see the crime boss, stating that he did not know where the money came from. The boss just laughs at him and asks him the same question Jews the world over posed to the German people at the end of the war. “How could you not have known?”

In the meantime his assistant has taken the Pawnbroker at his word that money is all that matters if you want to get ahead in the world. You must have it at any cost. So, he decides to help some local hoods rob the pawnshop, where the Pawnbroker keeps some of the laundered money from the crime boss. There is to be no killing. That’s the plan.

But in the end there is always killing. Nobody gets out alive, even if they sometimes are still walking and breathing. This is an intense and moving drama about the human condition and the lines we draw to identify ourselves; and others; as good or evil. And, sometimes we find that they are both just different sides of the same coin.

With a great script from a great book, directed by Sidney Pollack and filmed in a gritty New York City, this film makes good use of the soundtrack by Quincy Jones as it navigates the question of morality which we all must face at one time or another; “Am I a good person; or a bad one?”

The Jews of Kaifeng (1990)

As promised here is the story about one of the last Jews in the town of Kaifeng, China. Like the article on the 2 Afghan Jews, this is also something from a newspaper which I clipped at the time. And, as with the other, it was kind of a surprise to find it after so many years. This one is actually a photocopy of the original article, which appeared in the Baltimore Sun on July 22, 1990.

It’s really kind of a Passover story in a way. But I thought I’d better get it done now, rather than wait the 2 weeks until Passover, as the article has been lying about for 24 years since I’ve clipped it and if I don’t do this now it could be another 24 years before I see the article again. As they say, there is no time like the present.

Zhao Pingyu is, according to this article, one of the last Jews in China. At the time of the article he was a 69 year old retired tax collector living in a one room house in Kaifeng. It is a far cry from the once thriving village which was home to a substantial Jewish population, even boasting its own temple. Stone markers placed by missionaries in the 18^th Century mark the spot where a hospital now sits.

The Jews first arrived as traders in about 900 A.D. They were traders traveling the old Silk Road, who numbered in the thousands and by 1183 had built their own temple. It was called the Purity and Truth Synagogue. They were known by the Chinese as the “sinew plucking people” due to the habit of removing the sinews from the meat they ate in accordance with Kosher dietary laws. They were also respected for their treatment of the poor. There are several tablets in the town, some dating back to 1489, which commemorate the high regard in which the Jewish people of Kaifeng were held.

As the years passed the Jews of Kaifeng assimilated into Chinese life, much as they would wherever they went. They took the Imperial Examinations; which were like our Civil Service Exams; and became trusted members of the society, some even rising to the height of Mandarins.

When the last of their Rabbis passed away about 1810 the community began to lose much of its Jewish roots and character. And as society changed the Jews of Kaifeng found themselves growing into poverty, selling many of their prized religious artifacts in order to survive. The Torah scrolls, the holy books, the candles all went to British missionaries. The once proud synagogue was allowed to crumble into ruins.

Mr. Zhao kept the faith alive even while not knowing much about it. When this news article appeared in 1990 he expressed his love for the Passover holiday. He lit candles in observance of it. He even told the story of people dabbing lambs blood on their door frames before eating a dinner of lamb and reciting prayers. He even lit candles each Friday evening at sundown, but he had no idea why.

"Among My Klediments" by June Carter Cash (1979)

What can you possibly say about the woman who tamed Johnny Cash? Before there was a Women’s Liberation Movement, June Carter was hitching logs to traces, sowing crops, sewing clothes, and even pursuing a career in show business as, first a comedienne, then as a singer. She even went to New York to study and pursue a career on stage. This was not your typical girl from the sticks. And she did it all while staying true to her Christian beliefs; which given the times and places required of her work; was no easy achievement.

In this slim, less than 150 page book, June Carter Cash; of the Carter Family fame, as in A.P. Carter, Mother Maybelle, and even a cousin named Jimmy; writes unflinchingly of her own feelings of failure in her first 2 marriages before becoming Mrs. Cash in 1967. Without contradiction she talks about how her own work schedule may have helped in the dissolution of those relationships; the first of which brought her 2 daughters.

Her life before all that began in the hills of Virginia, listening and playing music. Most of the music of the Carter family has its roots in the traditional ballads and poems which came over with the settlers. Since many couldn't read, they sang the verses, giving birth to Appalachian music. A.P. Carter was just the guy who collected it all and wrote it down; as well as played it.

Ms. Cash recounts her father’s struggle with alcohol and also how his life was changed; as was the case with Johnny Cash years later; by a strong relationship with Christ. This is one of those tricky subjects to work into a book without coming off as too “preachy”. Some might find it offensive, or uninteresting; but this is a large part; a very large part; of who she was, and just as with Ricky Skaggs memoir, to leave out her faith would be to tell an incomplete story.

Indeed, as a Jewish person long a fan of Both John and June Cash, I found her expressions of her religious faith to be both sincere and informed. For instance; she considered herself to be a Seventh Day Adventist Baptist Methodist Pentecostal Jew. She believed in the 7th day as the Sabbath and that she was an engrafted Jew. (If you are unfamiliar with that last term then you should read Romans 11 in the New Testament. As a Jew I find that to be a major key in understanding Christianity.) This is tantamount to saying that Jesus was a Jew, and by extension all Christians are Jews; just as all Jews are Christians; and a remarkable thing for a Born Again Christian to state.

Another part of the book which I found of particular interest is the section dealing with her radio appearances in Charlotte on radio station WBT in the early 1940’s. Mother Maybelle and her daughters sang on the Grady Cole Show each morning. I’m trying to find some of those recordings if they even exist. Her descriptions of the city are vibrant and much more appealing than the corporate town which has developed in its place since that era. WBT is still a Colossus of the South at 50,000 watts; though nowadays you only get traffic and news in the morning. No more Mother Maybelle Carter. And Grady Cole is a small venue stadium located south of “uptown”. Younger people don’t even remember his name.

Her first meetings with Johnny Cash while working on tour with him are really interesting. If you don’t know much about John and June Cash beyond that movie which came out a couple of years ago, I’d recommend reading this book for a more accurate account of their relationship. Her description of Johnny walking the beach all night long is haunting; as it should be.

He was haunted at the time by demons that would only be conquered by his love for Ms. Carter and his own religious faith. And when he did decide to kick drugs he put up one hell of a fight. Ms. Cash describes it as being the toughest battle Satan ever fought; and lost. You might laugh, but this is some good writing! I was cheering for Johnny the whole time; literally.

Along the way this amazing woman becomes a member of the Grand Old Opry; only to resign later for spiritual reasons; and even meets and works with a young man named Chester Atkins, whom she has to teach to laugh on stage. He is just one of the many "royals" of country music with whom she has appeared over the years; and befriended in the bargain.

If you've already read Johnny Cash’s own autobiography I hope that you will not dismiss this as just another book by a celebrity wife. June Carter Cash was so much more than that. Don’t take my word for it; pick it up and find out for yourself.

The video below is not the live performance I was looking for, but it's pretty good. It is a song about 2 people in love who each promise to wait for the other on the "far side of the Jordan". When June died before him she knew he'd be coming soon; just as he knew that she'd be waiting. And I have no doubt about that either.

"How the Other Half Lives" by Jacob A. Riis (1901)

Through his remarkable series of photographs, documenting life in the tenements of old New York at the turn of the 19^th Century, Jacob A. Riis has become an icon of compassionate liberalism to many folks. That’s because they haven’t read his book. This landmark classic of sociology is often spoken of as if it were a plea for compassion and sympathy for the poor. If that is your opinion of this highly vaunted work, then you have probably not read it either.

The book is somewhat akin to D.W. Griffith’s epic motion picture “Birth of a Nation” in that it stereotypes every minority then in existence in New York City. Jews are clever and suspicious; Chinese are opium pushers and white slave traders; the Italians are happy people except when pushed too far and their passionate nature gets the better of them; while the Irish are just plain filthy and would rather drink than work. And all are criminals of one sort or another.

While quoting from the crime statistics available at the time he notes that the majority of the criminals come from the slums. Crime itself is the result of unclean living and poor habits, as well as the choice of lifestyles made by the individual. When the well to do come down to the slums for entertainment, they are sometimes unwittingly dragged into these lifestyles themselves; making them victims of the poor.

As a kid I used to go to Riis Park in the borough of Queens. Riis Park is the beach which sits next door to the Breezy Point Section, which gained widespread fame this past year in the wake of Hurricane Sandy. Riis Park was the brainchild of Robert Moses, who oversaw the building of most of the bridges and tunnels, as well as countless parks throughout the 5 boroughs. He named Riis Park for the author of this book, who is often considered to be a champion of the poor, and presumably would have wanted poor people to have a sunny, open place to go for fresh air. But, I wonder if Mr. Moses ever read this book.

Perhaps I am being too harsh upon the author; after all, those were different times. And he did expose the horrid conditions of the city’s slum dwellings through his photographs. It was just somewhat of a shock to read the author’s views on the predicament of the people he was trying to help.

For better, or worse, we are all products of the environment in which we live. For all the flaws in the way he has expressed himself in this book, he did lead a crusade that helped, in some way, to draw attention to the plight of the poor. Though most of the social ills which he decries in this narrative still exist today, he does deserve credit for being among the first of the moral crusaders who attempted to do something about the conditions he saw to be unfit.

And, then there are also those remarkable photographs he took, leaving us a window into our past, which might not always be so pretty, but represent who we once were. May it be that we never go that far backwards again.

“Il Transporto di Cristo al Sepolcro” - Antonio Ciseri (1870)

“The Transport of Christ to the Sepulcher" by Antonio Ciseri is one of the most harrowing of all the paintings concerning Good Friday. It was painted over a period of 6 years, between 1864 and 1870 in Italy. Ciseri was actually born in Switzerland, but by age 12 he was studying under the tutelage of Ernesto Bonaivuti and later, Giuseppe Bezzuoli, both of whom would inform his works with their own unique styles.

In this dark and foreboding painting Christ is being carried by the Faithful to the Sepulcher, from which he would miraculously rise on what became known as Easter Sunday. The imagery is not the standard one of Christ borne on the cross; or even hung upon one. Rather, the artists intent seems to have been geared more towards humanizing Jesus as body and flesh; as someone who was once touched by others, just as he once touched them.

No matter what your religious beliefs; I happen to be Jewish; the solemnity of Good Friday, encompassing Faith within its sorrow, cannot be ignored. Without Faith, there can be no good deeds, and without good deeds there can never be Salvation. This holds true not only for Christians, but for people of any Faith who believe in something higher than just themselves.

Boycott Products from India

Sometimes it is hard to understand the minds of other people. Rajesh Shah, in the city of Ahmedabad, north of Mumbai in India, has opened a store there named after Hitler, claiming that he never heard of the man until a few weeks ago. And then he opened his business. He has a whole story about why he chose that name, but, there can be no logical explanation behind this story other than a love of Adolph Hitler and a hatred for Jews, Gypsies, Poles, Catholics, and the list goes on and on. Doesn’t Rajesh Shah understand that according to Hitler he is inferior? Hitler loved the blonde haired-blue eyed set.

 

Look at Rajesh Shah, proudly holding the card bearing the name of a man who would have enslaved him. Hitler felt that dark skinned people were mentally deficient, and one has to wonder if Rajesh Shah is proof of that assertion. If that sounds harsh, well, you’ll just have to forgive me; I’m only a Jew. Please take note of the smiling Indian policeman standing at the upper left in the photo. If ignorance is bliss, this is the second most ignorant man in the world, behind Rajesh Shah, of course.

 

There is a disturbing trend worldwide towards a surge in Anti-Semitism lately. Take this wonderful photo of Hitler Wine in Italy from last week as an example. In complete violation of the law in Italy, which mirrors those in Germany, banning the glorification of Hitler’s name, as well as the use of the swastika, these morons have released a line of wine cleverly marketed as being commemorative. Yes, let‘s all drink some Hitler wine and don our Hitler clothing in honor of the biggest mass murderer in history.

Personally, I have called the Italian and Indian embassies to voice my concern. While the Italian Embassy seemed to take the issue seriously, the Indian Embassy was virtually unreachable except through a laborious process by e-mail. And even then, the message did not go through.

The best I can suggest; if this kind of thing upsets you; is to boycott all goods from these 2 nations until they decide to join the human race again.

"The Man Who Broke Into Auschwitz" by Denis Avey (2012)

This is the most unlikely, yet true, true tale of World War Two you will ever read. Denis Avey, a young Englishman, joined the service, as he says, “not out of loyalty to king and country", but a sense of seeing things first hand. Brother, did he ever! After basic training in the Rifle Corps; he had been a crack shot since an early age; he was shipped to North Africa, where he saw some of the most intense fighting of the war. The temperature at Tobruk and El Alamein often topped 138 degrees Fahrenheit.

With water; and fresh provisions; in scarce supply, the going is rough against a numerically superior Italian force, yet they manage to capture tens of thousands of the enemy, and their weaponry. Corporal Avey is wounded, after losing some of his best mates, is embarked on a ship bound for the labor camps in Italy, working for the German war industry, in violation of the Geneva Convention. On the way they are sunk, and Avey finds himself washed ashore and on the run through Greece, and later Italy, where he is recaptured.

There, the prisoners do all that they can to sabotage the work to which they are assigned. Eventually they are shipped by rail to the infamous IG Farben plant which adjoined Auschwitz, outside of Oswiecim, as the town was then known. It is there that the story really picks up speed, boggling the mind in the process. For it is here, in the labor camp adjoining the death camp, in which an idea is born that will bear witness to what went on in that hell on earth. (IG Farben still exists in several different forms today. At the close of the Second World War it was split into different corporations, such as Bayer, Hoescht, BASF, the Agfa-Gevaert Group and Cassella AG., and they are among one of the largest political contributors in world politics today.)

First off, the author notes the difference between the 3 sets of prisoners at Auschwitz. There are the POW's, who are housed separately and subject to the Geneva Convention. Although they are not required to work for the enemy, they are, in violation of the treaty, forced to do so. And that brings the POW's, mostly British and Australian, in close contact with the two other groups; the Russians, who are treated with brutality and beatings, while being slowly starved to death as they work at tasks to which they are wholly unsuited. In addition, the POW's are working in close contact with the Jewish prisoners, whom the author describes as "moving shadows, shapeless and indistinct, as if they could fade away at any moment. I couldn't tell who, or what they were." These were the prisoners who would be shot on a whim, for nothing, save the amusement of the SS.

Avey works alongside of Hans, and later Ernst, two Jewish prisoners, and does the unthinkable. He changes places with Hans for a night by shaving his own head and swapping uniforms. He has studied the shuffled walk wearing the wooden clogs that the Jews are required to wear, and blends in with the returning prisoners, not knowing if he would be randomly selected for an execution that evening; several of which occurred each night. If you moved too slowly; or quickly; you could be clubbed to death on the spot. If not by the Germans themselves, then by the hated "Capo's", or Jewish guards, who for a crust of bread in that dreadful place, traded their last ounce of dignity, in a cowardly bid to survive.

After that adventure, he is still determined to go back again to the Death Camp for one more night, and again swaps places with Hans. This time though, fate takes a hand, and Avey is set forth on the Death March from Auschwitz, when the Germans tried to salvage what slave labor they could. Soon though, the whole plan falls apart as the war winds down. Avey, as well as the German soldiers, are left wandering around Germany looking for either homes that are no longer there, or in his case, Allied troops, so that he can be repatriated to England. Sick, malnourished and wounded, with a blow to his eye; which would eventually cause its removal; Avey finally returns home. It is there that his battles really begin, as he attempts to come to terms with all that he has seen.

This book is also an account of the 70 years it took the author to come to terms with all that he had experienced in the war. For decades after the war he suffered from PTSD, before it had a name. Most doctors dismissed him with some pills and advised him to "get over it." At one point he found himself waking up, in the middle of the night, choking his wife to death as the result of a nightmare. He turned himself into the Police, but they refused to take the charges seriously, and his marriage ended soon after that.

This book marks the first time in which Mr. Avey has finally spoken about his experiences during the war. He seems to be at peace with himself, and his actions. In that sense, it is also a book of healing, and the perspective which only the passage of time can offer.

In 2002, Avey was awarded the Medal of Valor by the Prime Minister at a ceremony which took place at Number 10 Downing Street in London. Fully documented, and written in a wonderfully readable prose, this book may be one of the best written accounts of the Holocaust, as witnessed by someone who lived it on both sides of the wire. A very unusual book, written by a very unusual man, you don't want to miss this one.

"My Long Trip Home" by Mark Whitaker

It has always been my belief that, like it or not; and for better or worse; we are all the sum total of our parents, and grandparents. Those 2 generations are the ones which define us, socially, as well as morally. In Mark Whitaker's life he was blessed with a rare mixture of race, and values, all of which served him well on the path to becoming the first African-American to attain the lofty position of Editor In Chief of Newsweek, and still later, Executive Vice president of CNN Worldwide.

The book is an amalgam of several stories; the first is that of his great grandfather, Frank Whitaker, and his son, Cleophaus Sylvester Whitaker, Sr., known to all as "Cleo". Frank was a slave until the age of 12, when he went to work on a tenant farm. As a matter of fact, the last name Whitaker is a combination composed of the words "white", for the cotton they picked, and "acre", for the land they picked it on. Frank wanted more for his son, so the elder "C.S." was sent west to get an education at one of the few schools for African-Americans at the time. That was in Oswego, Kansas where he lived with his mother's family while attending school. The difference between life for black people in Kansas, compared to Texas impressed "C.S." to the point of wanting to live somewhere else.

Arriving in Pittsburgh, "C.S." was an undertaker's assistant, and proved so adept at the trade that he became one of Pittsburgh’s first black Funeral Home owners. Eventually, his wife opened a second Funeral Home, which came in handy after they had divorced. Their son, Cleophaus, Jr., was in constant conflict with his father, eventually leaving the family to begin a life of his own. He was headed for the academic world, where he would leave his mark as a major influence in African Studies, eventually chairing the first African Studies Department at Harvard.

The author's mother, Jeanne Alice Theis, came from a totally different world. She was white, and came from a family of missionaries during the days leading up to the Second World War. Her parents, and their whole village in Poland, were involved in smuggling Jews out of the country, as well as hiding them in their homes.

The story of how these two very different people met; she was his teacher at college; and began a life together in 1960's America is astonishing. This account of their backgrounds, as well as the story of their son's journey to success, is well worth reading. It gets complicated, and some of the stories the author tells are not easy to hear, but they are essential to the understanding of ourselves as people, as well as the world in which we live.

In some ways Mark Whitaker's struggle is reminiscent of Barack Obama's life story as he struggles to define, first, who he is, and secondly, who his parents really were, and how their trials and tribulations affected him. In a way, it is a story not unlike our own, as we all search for the deeper meaning behind who we are, and where we are headed.

"The Jew Store" by Stella Suberman

This is a book which I read about 6 years ago and have never forgotten. It is written in sepia tones, much like "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn." And, just as in that novel, this book examines the coming of age in the life of a young girl within a distinctly ethnic environment.

During the early 1900's, through to the 1970's, there was, in almost every southern town of account, a store which sold all manner of dry goods. This could range from school clothes to kitchen appliances. They were like little Macy's. They were also almost always owned by Jews. Ms. Suberman has penned a wonderful memoir of that time and place.

The author has placed her memoir in the fictiously named town of Concordia, Tennessee. I'm not sure why she did this, as the book is wonderfully written and the characters drawn with complete reality. These are people we have all met at one time or another. Some are good, and some are bad. Life is like that.

The book is, in large part, devoted to the history of her ever optimistic father, Aaron Bronson. As a Russian immigrant at the turn of the century, living in New York, he decides to take a chance and go further inland to see what this New World holds in store for him. Originally a salesman, he decides to start a store in one of the towns that he passes through.

The author recounts how her father obtained a lease on a store, which he proudly named "Bronsons Low Priced Store", and his dealings with people who did not want the Bronson family in their community. The store becomes a family affair, with both the mother and 3 children participating in the daily operations. There are the usual cast of characters in town, some of whom come to accept the Bronson family as one of their own. There are also the bigots, who do anything they can to make life just a bit harder for Mr. Bronson. But, with his ever present optimism, Mr. Bronson overcomes all odds to become a permanent fixture in Concordia.

The book also explores the relationships of the 3 children and their mother as they struggle to adapt in a town where they are the only Jews. With the older son's Bar Mitzvah approaching, he is forced back east to study his Hebrew for the big day. His sisters also have their share of problems, as they struggle with bobbed hair and gentile boyfriends, in a Jewish home, much to their mother's dismay.

There are also kind hearted neighbors, like Miss Brookie, who helps the family through their transition into becoming Southerners. The book takes place during the heady days of the 1920's and the lowest points of the Great Depression, during the 1930's, when the town almost went bankrupt. Only a Town Auction would save the day. I will not spoil this portion of the book for you.

The book not only chronicles the story of the "Jew Stores" that dotted America during the first half of the 20th Century, but also the people and the towns in which they were located. These stores were often the first encounter that many Americans had with people of the Jewish faith. It is also the story of a group of immigrants looking to assimilate into a new land.

Demonizing Twain - When PC Goes Too Far.

They're at it again. Those self appointed pesky Politically Correct Speech Monitors are working in overdrive to alter some of the best literature ever written. Allan Gribben, a man who professes to be a Professor of Literature at Auburn University, in Alabama, approached Suzanne La Rosa at New South Books last July with the idea of releasing "Huckleberry Finn" and "Tom Sawyer" in a combined edition, sans the word "nigger." Oops! I mean the "N" word. You know what it stands for, you say it to yourself when you read it.

Mark Twain has often been misunderstood, mostly by people in the publishing industry, who are, after all, just businessmen seeking to make money from the words that others labor to write. I can understand that. Those who can't write sell the writings of others. Thus has it ever been.

Editing has always been an honorable task, helping a writer to better hone the message that he is seeking to impart. But when you take the words of a book which has been recognized for well over 160 years as a Classic, and then change those words, you have surpassed the realm of editing and entered the murky world of censorship. And to what end? Mr. Gribben states that he is not attempting to "sanitize Mark Twain. I just had the idea to get us away from obsessing about this one word and just let the stories stand alone." This is bunk.

When reading "Huckleberry Finn" and "Tom Sawyer" in grade school (yes, they actually allowed us to read these books) we were told about the use of the word nigger and what it meant in the context of the times in which it was written. This was in 1965, which for those too young to remember, was a very racially charged year. And the lesson learned in class was that the word was confined to literature. We were made to understand the superiority of Jim, in both his morals and actions, to the white men, I mean the evil "W" men who were chasing him. That lesson will now be lost.

To be fair about it, Mark Twain did state, in his autobiography, that although these books were children's stories, he preferred that they be read by an older audience. That is all very well, and perhaps there is merit there. I only know that I loved these two books from the very first time I read them, never construing the use of the word nigger to be offensive in it's intent.

This is not the first time in which Mark Twain has been misunderstood in regards to race, or religion. When he returned from his trip around the world in the 1880's, he wrote about the Jewish community in Austria. The piece was entitled "Concerning the Jews." It was hailed as "Philo-Semetic." That means that it was favorable to the Jewish people. Within weeks the word had been misunderstood and the more well known phrase "Anti-Semetic" was substituted in it's place. It would be more than a century before the cloud of Anti-Semetism hanging over Mr. Twain's head would start to clear away.

As the Publishing industry continues to salivate over the profits to be made selling Mr. Twain's books intensifies in the wake of the newly released Autobiography, you can expect more of these misrepresentations of the author's work. Imagine how much money Suzanne La Rosa, co-founder of New South Books, and Mr. Gribben, thought they were going to reap from the publication of a bastardized version of two of the greatest American novels ever written.

You can reach New South at 334-834-3556. Let them know how you feel about this politically correct version of the book before it is released in February. And if you see it on the shelves at your local book store, be sure and bypass it in favor of the authors original work, which is readily available in paperback for just a few dollars. And if you'd like, you can borrow the older version free from your local library.

I wonder what book Mr. Gribben will find offensive next?

"Judgment at Nuremberg" with Spencer Tracy, Richard Widmark, Marlene Dietrich and Judy Garland

This landmark film, made in 1961, the same year in which Israel was trying Adolf Eichmann for Mass Murder, is a stirring production concerned with the responsibility we all hold toward one another as human beings.

The Chief Judge, played by Spencer Tracy, (William Shatner plays his Aide) has never been in the war, and is shocked by the devastation and destruction that he sees when he arrives in Nuremberg, which had been the seat of the Nazi Party. He is tasked with judging the defendants, all of whom were judges in Germany prior to, and throughout, the war. They were responsible for implementing the laws enacted by the Nazi Party. These laws included forced sterilization, denial of race mixing and other social programs that were all part of Germany's plans to exterminite Jews, Gyspy's and any others who did not measure up to the standards set forth by law.

The War Crime Tribunal is of the opinion that these judges should have stood against these laws, even if it meant the ends of their careers, and possibly their lives. From the perspective of the Defendants this would only have resulted in other, more pro-Nazi judges being appointed, with no question as to how they would have acted in implementing these laws.

Burt Lancaster is the German judge who finally comes to realize the damage done by the collective silence of his fellow judges. Montgomery Clift is brilliant as a victim of forced sterilization. Marlene Dietrich plays the widow of a German officer who has been executed for his crimes in a previous trial. Her home is now the residence of the American judge played by Spencer Tracy. From one another they learn just what a person will do, and how far they will go, in order to protect what is theirs. Sometimes it is not an easy call to make.

As Tracy struggles to understand just how the German people allowed the Holocaust to happen, he is confronted by the spectre of our own shortcomings as "victors" in the war. The German Counsel for the Defense, played by Maximilian Schell, is very adept at bringing to light our own nation's sins against our fellow man. Quoting from Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes and the American Constitution's "Seperate but Equal" clause, and invoking the horror of our own experiments with "Eugenics" in the late 1930's, usually against blacks and people with low IQ's, he brings stunning reality to bear on the questions of who is right and what is wrong. Does morality change with time and circumstance? Is there ever a real reason to commit Genocide?

This film is timeless in it's subject matter. When Richard Widmark gives his impassioned speech about the brutality of the Nazi's and the futility of Appeasment, one cannot help think about the current debate concerning Islamic Fundamentalism. When does tolerance become foolish? What lengths are acceptable to employ in wiping out evil? And mostly, what are our responsibilities as individuals in standing up to the things that would destroy us all.

The tension of the courtroom scenes, and the sharp direction of a tightly written script, along with superb acting and a timeless question of morality all combine to make this a "must see" film.

"Concerning the Jews" by Mark Twain

If the statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one percent of the human race. It suggests a nebulous dim puff of star dust in the blaze of the Milky Way. Properly, the Jew ought hardly to be heard; but he is heard of. Has always been heard of.

He is as prominent on the planet as any other people, and his commercial importance is extravagantly out of proportion to the smallness of his bulk.

His contribution to the world's list of great names in literature, science, art, music, finance, medicine and abstruse learning are also way out of proportion to the weakness of his number.
He has made a marvellous fight in the world, in all ages and has done it with his hands tied behind him. He could be vain of himself and be excused for it.

The Egyptian, the Babylonian and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendour, then faded to dream stuff and passed away.

The Greek and Roman followed and made a vast noise, and they are gone.

Other peoples have sprung up and held their torch high for a time, but it burnt out, and they sit in twilight now, or have vanished.

The Jew saw them all, beat them all, and is now what he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of his energies, no dulling of his alert and aggressive mind. All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains.

What is the secret of his immortality?