Features
Bygone Winnipeg: A fictitous story based on true events: University of Manitoba Faculty of Medicine 1932-1944
By DAVID TOPPER Call me a witness. I was there and heard almost everything that’s relevant to this story.
Yet, thinking deeper, I guess you could call me a spy – well, at least, some may say that, for there was an element of skulduggery in my employment situation. It was all because of my father, who changed my name when I was born. Of course, we’re all born with a surname, but―
Wait. Let’s first go back to my grandfather, Moshe Levinstein, who was born in Russia, and who as a young man experienced a small pogrom – small in terms of later ones – which was enough to convince him to emigrate as fast as he could. Several people were killed, a house was burned down, and there was a rape – that ‘small’ event drove him to leave Russia, forever. He never looked back, even when Winnipeg, Canada turned out not to be quite the paradise he expected. Because he quickly found that anti-Semitism was endemic.
My father, Solomon Levinstein, while growing up, saw the struggle his parents went through being Jews in a Christian country (with the English majority Protestant, and the minority French Catholic), and he wanted to protect me as best he could when I was born. He wanted me to fit into the social fabric more than he ever could. And since I turned out to be a girl, there were even more barriers on my horizon – ‘closed doors,’ he called it. He told us that he was thinking about all this when I was still in my mother’s womb. You see, he liked to ‘plan ahead,’ which was another of his favourite phrases.
Oh, speaking of being in the womb: my grandmother died when my mother was eight months pregnant with me, and so I was supposed to be named some variation of Minnie Levinstein, as is the Jewish tradition. But since my father was obsessed with my fitting in better than he did, and he also wanted me to get through some otherwise ‘closed doors’ – I was named Mildred Evans. He said Evans and ‘Levins’ rhyme, and so do Millie and Minnie. It was also a nice Aryan-sounding name, “as the Germans would say,” he said.
Mind you, while growing up as Mildred Evans, I nonetheless didn’t hide my Jewishness. Indeed, I often went to synagogue on Saturday/Sabbath. But then, I also often went to church on Sunday and―
Um, I guess I need to explain that. You see, my best friend was Mary O’Brian, which tells you that she was probably Irish Catholic, which she was. Now, here’s my perspective in all of this. I was very precocious and very smart and I read a lot. I liked languages. On weekends I enjoyed Hebrew in the Synagogue and Latin in the Church. Two ancient languages, one dead except for the Christian Mass, and the other kept alive in prayer and Torah study. Plus, you must remember that Latin was still taught in schools at this time; it was part of a Liberal Arts education in the first half of the 20th century. Many universities required High School Latin for entrance to their freshman classes. As well, to me, the Mass was like an opera, with singing and those glorious organ pipes vibrating and echoing throughout the church. Mary and I, by-the-by, went to the beautiful Cathedral in St. Boniface, with the astonishing and huge Rose window. You see, there were no organs in any synagogue. And so, it was not so strange for this Jew to enjoy the Catholic Mass as a musical event. Think of Bach, a devout Lutheran, who wrote his wonderful Mass in B-minor.
Anyway, to me the Mass was a show, and it was free – well not completely free, since the church always passed around a collection basket near the end of the service – a sort of pay-what-may type thing, you could say. I remember that Mary, when I took her to her first synagogue service, was surprised that there was no collection at the end, especially since after the service there was an oneg in the social hall, with food galore. But I digress.
The service of the Mass, to me, was not entirely unfamiliar, since there were many prayers and texts that borrowed passages from what they called The Old Testament: many of the sayings of the prophets, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and others. “But what about the stuff on Jesus?” you may be asking, eh? Well, you see, I read a lot of history, as I told Mary – and I must say she was shocked when I first told her this; although eventually she (well, sort of) agreed with me – well, I told her that Jesus was not a Christian, but a Jew named Yeshua, and he always was; ‘Jesus’ was the later Latinized name. He had some differences with the Jewish hierarchy at the time, along with problems with the Romans who occupied the Holy Land, so much so that they (the Romans) crucified him. It was after his death that Christianity was born, due in large part to the preaching and writing of a Jew name Saul, whose name was later Latinized to ‘Paul’ after he had a vision of the resurrected Yeshua/Jesus. Saul/Paul made a strong case for rejecting many Jewish practices (such as circumcision), so much so that his sect broke free from its Jewish root. They became known as ‘Christians,’ since Paul preached that Yeshua was the real messiah (or ‘anointed one’), which in Greek is ‘Kristos,’ later Latinized to ‘Christus.’
Mary laughed when I said that therefore you might call the birth of Christianity a Jewish conspiracy. “Oh Millie,” she said. “You’re so smart it sometimes scares me. What is going to happen to you?”
Good question.
So, what did happen to me? Well it helped being smart, that’s for sure. Very smart, indeed. But not pushy. No, not pushy or impudent in any way. Not at all. You see, I was (and still am) happy with less – a lot less than I probably could have had. Yes, I lived (and still live) parsimoniously.
Well, I got a university education with excellent grades (as you might expect) but I didn’t go any further, although I could have, and was encouraged to do so. But I saw the university system as a barrier to women. And I was not inclined to fight the system. As I said, I was satisfied with less. While still a student at the University of Manitoba, I got part-time secretarial jobs, since I was a fabulous typist and proof reader. Even before I graduated, I was offered a full-time position as a secretary in the English Department, since their long-time-serving woman was thinking of retiring. And in the end, after graduation, I got the job.
It was the best decision of my life, looking back on it. You see, in this job I could go home at 5pm to my modest house not far from the university and forget about the job until the next morning. In the warmer weather I could walk to and fro; although in the dead of winter I took the short bus ride. After all, it was Winnipeg. And at home I could read whatever I wanted. Play the piano. Do my art work: drawing (pencil and/or pen & ink) and painting (only watercolour). Listen to the radio. And I read as much as I wanted: lots of books, magazines, and newspapers. I got the New York Times Sunday edition in the mail every week; it was a bit late, of course, but there were so many articles of interest that it was a source of almost endless reading throughout the week. For example, I recently came across this quote from the famous Albert Einstein in an article about him: “Perhaps it is due to anti-Semitism that we can preserve ourselves as a race; at least, this is what I believe.” I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this, especially in light of what I am going to tell you later. Incidentally, when I was a student, there were no Jewish professors on the faculty. Even as late as the mid-1940s, there were still only four Jewish professors.
In contrast to my life, my boss’s home life was filled with lectures to prepare, and even on weekends there were papers to mark, exams to compose and later to mark. And so it went. He often told me I was fortunate to be able to start a book and just read it at my leisure, right through if I wished. He confided in me that he seldom had time to read half of what he wanted to. I believe he liked talking to me, since I was smart. He often asked my advice regarding even the content of the texts that I was typing for him. We got along swimmingly, as you might surmise. We had a very good rela―
Okay, before you start fantasizing further, let me stop you. There was nothing beyond our professional relationship. Nothing at all. Throughout the university, in all my jobs – nothing. No flirting, never. I had no affairs in those years in various secretarial positions, if that’s what you’re thinking. And here’s why: I am not attractive. I knew this in High School, and was satisfied with it. Remember, I like a simple life, and I discovered that this unattractive state makes life uncomplicated – or, at least, less complicated than it otherwise might be. I could see among my classmates in school that the (let’s call them) ‘attractive’ girls had a life that was a roller-coaster ride. Up, happy, being gleeful; down, way down, when a guy dumped them. Yes, I saw some girls get really down; had to take pills; some even admitted to hospital. I thought: who needs this crap? I don’t want those ups and downs; I want a straight ride, flat. “Yes, just flat,” as I told Mary. She laughed, “Well that’s not the only thing that’s flat for you, huh”? We both had a good laugh at that. Remember we were best friends, and each could take a joke.
So, I tell you: my so-called ‘unattractiveness’ was a gift. Which I took and ran with, you might say. Today, you see: I wear no make-up, have a simple straight hair-do extending below my ears but not touching my shoulders, wear loose and non-flashy blouses, have only skirts far below my knees, and I wear sensible shoes – namely, flats (oh, that word again). All this ensured that my relationships with the men under whom I worked at the university would remain strictly professional. Let’s put it this way. I always had a good night’s solo sleep, if you know what I mean.
Of course, this is not to say that I never had an intimate relationship with anyone, but rather that it was not with any of my bosses – and I will leave it at that, for this has gone far beyond the original topic. But – and I emphasize this – all this is not a digression, for I very much want you to know about me and my life at the University of Manitoba, so as to put this story into context and to show how and why what I am going to tell you should not only be believed, but also taken seriously.
Further, to set the stage: I got along well with my fellow all-female secretaries and other staff at the university. My plainness was interpreted as a sort of prissiness, which is not true, but they didn’t know that. As Mildred Evans, I was asked what church I went to, and I told them St. Boniface Cathedral, since I did go to it when my friend Mary and I were kids, so strictly speaking my answer was no lie. Although I know their question had a different meaning. (Incidentally, Mary is now married and living in Toronto, raising her four kids.) They then asked why I go all the way to the other city to attend church and I told them it was about the music and the organ. They understood, and asked no more.
Also, due to my modest behaviour, they questioned why I was not a nun, and it led to them jokingly calling me Sister Millie. I said there was no such St. Mildred, although this may not be true, but then what do Protestants know about saints? – since Luther, Calvin, and the others eschewed them, along with the Virgin Mary, from their theology. And speaking of joking: being ‘Sister Millie’ among these Protestants, I was in an opportune position to reprimand them when they occasionally told anti-Semitic jokes or made similar remarks. And I did. As an art-lover, I also took the occasions to lecture them on the destruction of so much art by the Protestants during the Reformation: defacing and burning paintings, smashing statues, destroying stained-glass windows, and more. They knew none of this; it was a shock to them. They were not taught such things in Sunday-school, they said.
And that brings me to the reason for telling you all this in the first place. For, as I began, I said I was a witness, or even a spy. But for what? Well, for what may be called the backroom conversations. The secret disc―
Wait, I’m getting ahead. Uh, let’s start here: After many years with the English Department, I was promoted to being secretary for the new Dean of Medicine, Dr. Warren Matthews. It began for me at end of term in late May 1932. Although the Dean’s term began in September, he occasionally came around during the summer months to bring things (books, files, and such) so that his office was ready in the fall. He got to know me a bit and seemed very pleased and comfortable with me. His wife, Eleanor, even came with him one summer day – I believe, to check me out. She was nicely dressed, looking very Anglo-Saxonish prim and proper, if there is such a thing. When she saw me, she first looked me straight in my eyes and, while she was saying some pleasantries, she panned down my body to my feet and back up to my face, and ended with a self-assured smile on her face. I passed, since I was clearly no threat to her sexuality, whatever there was of it.
I spent the summer getting adjusted to the new office, going through the files and sometimes reorganizing them my way, and changing some things around in the physical space of the office. For one thing, I preferred keeping my office door to the university closed, but with a COME IN sign, when I was there. I didn’t like the constant background noise and chatter, as well as obtrusive eyes walking past an open door. That summer, I also had lots of typing to do both for the new Dean and for others in the Department of Medicine.
By the fall, when the Dean came in for the new term, we could get right to work. And we did. We quickly developed a good working relationship. He was obviously comfortable with me, for he shortly said that I should just call him ‘Warren.’ Interestingly, he liked me keeping my door closed, since he preferred keeping his door open. He said he was a bit claustrophobic, plus he liked to hear my typing – it had a musical rhythm that he found restful. Importantly, this meant that I was privy to confidential remarks by the Dean and those who ran the administration of the university when they were in his office. In short, I was able to eavesdrop. And eavesdrop I did! And that’s why I’m telling you this.
But this spying came later. The reason I am telling you this is because of an event that took place not long after he got settled into his new office. I can still remember the day. It was first thing in the morning, and after the “how are you” etc., he told me to look at the records of students admitted to the Medical School in terms of their ethnic origin, particularly noting how many of them were Jews. “We already have too many Jews, Millie,” he said. It was a jolt, and although I’m sure I showed no visible signs of my reaction, internally I was shaken. So much so that I almost blew my cover. Yes, even as Mildred Evans, Sister Millie, it―
Well, it’s hard to explain. I was tempted, of course, to ask why, … but, of course, I didn’t. “I’ll get to it right away, Warren,” was the best thing I could say at the time, and I turned away walking toward a filing cabinet, as any loyal Anglo-Saxon secretary would do, but with shaking hands that I hid from my boss.
I found that on the application form there was a line for ‘racial origin,’ and so I was able to do my job. I discovered that throughout the 1920s there were usually about 64 students per year admitted, with 18-25% being Jewish. Other ethnic groups also came – Ukrainian, Polish, German, and so forth, but in smaller percentages. Most, not surprisingly, were Anglo-Saxon – good English stock, according to Warren. When I presented my finding to him, I added another category, and I prefaced it by saying that I hoped he didn’t think I was being impudent in doing so. It was the number of women admitted, which was very low – often none, sometimes one or two. Warren smiled and said it was fine for me to be “conscious of my sex” and he blushed after he said it. I think hearing himself saying the word ‘sex’ out-loud to me, well, it jolted him – the way, on the previous day, his word ‘Jews’ jolted me.
Subsequently, my eavesdropping elicited more examples of anti-Semitism endemic to the faculty, as he chatted in his office with other administrators, keeping his door open. They all agreed. “Too many pushy Jews.” “Since they invariably get high grades in school, if we don’t put a lid on the enrolment, soon they will all be Jews.” “If we don’t do something now, well Jews will take over the faculty.” “First the Jews and then Ukrainians or Poles.” “At least the Frenchies have their own college in St. Boniface.” And so it went – a litany of bigotry, discrimination, and prejudice straight from the mouths of the administrative faculty to the ears of Mildred Evans. At most, a few made mild queries as to the efficacy of it, and the possibility of “aggressive Jewish lawyers” filing a legal case against the practice.
In the end there was a quota system initiated for all incoming classes, keeping the Jewish enrolment low. In 1936, for example, only nine got in. In later years even fewer. Out of 60 or more students, sometimes only four to six were Jewish. Of course, this meant that Anglo-Saxon students with far lower grades than Jewish students were admitted in place of them. And this was for a school to train physicians, dealing with life and death. “Just what we need – dumber doctors,” I told my Jewish friends. You see, I didn’t hide my clandestine information. I told anyone who would listen to me. Unfortunately, where it might make a difference, I got indifference, brought on by fear. Rabbis were afraid to do anything. They went along with the quota rule. “Don’t make waves, things could get worse,” was a standard response. Yes, they went along with the quota system. “Don’t look like a ‘pushy Jew,’ at least we get the ones that we get,” I was told. “Look, honey, be happy with four to six doctors a year,” I was told to my face by a rabbi’s wife. The same thing from the Jewish establishment. The B’nai Brith was afraid to do anything because it might backfire and only make matters worse. Similarly, for the Canadian Jewish Congress, which was reluctant to get involved in this Winnipeg issue. “What wimps,” I told my friends. I did the best I could. I didn’t blow my cover.
For me this thing came to a head in 1943, when the med school again turned down many Jewish and some other ‘ethnic’ students, so as to admit Anglo-Saxon students with (in this case) not only lower grades – but they also admitted some students who didn’t even pass their university exams and thus were required to go to summer school! To me, this was the last straw. The Jewish students’ Avakah Zionist Society got wind of this and began to bring all this out into the open. They eventually got the help of a Jewish lawyer and, yes, a fuss was raised and pressure was put on the Board of the University of Manitoba.
Finally, in 1944, after a dozen years of overt discrimination, the Medical School removed the racial and religious categories in their application. The quota rule finally ended. I celebrated with my Jewish friends. And, yes, Mildred “Prissy” Evans got a little tipsy.
Speaking of celebrating. In 1949, Dr. Warren Matthews was awarded an Honourary Doctor of Laws for his dedicated service to the University. I was invited to a private party for him, but I made up some excuse as to why I couldn’t make it. You see, I was afraid that if I did go, I would not be able to control myself, and proper Mildred Evans, aka Sister Millie, would perform the very unladylike act of making a scene by copiously spitting into the party’s punch bowl.
* * *
Features
The Dream of Zion: Judah Halevi’s Quest
By DAVID R. TOPPER Today the term Zionism is debased by otherwise liberal-thinking former-friends of Jews and Israel. This is a fact. Nonetheless, I don’t wish to pursue present-day politics and debates on the issues around this fact. Except to point out that the former-friends’ error stems from a lack of knowledge of the history of the region – by just focusing on recent events.
Accordingly, I wish to put Zionism into a deeper historical perspective by recalling that, ever since the Roman destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, the idea of returning to Zion was fundamental to the Jews of the Diaspora. Being indigenous to that region of the Middle East – hence going back thousands of years – Jews continued having a presence there – even after the Temple was razed.
Moreover, and in particular, my aim is to recall the story of one the major Zionists in Jewish history – Judah Halevi.
But perhaps it is best to start with this brief factoid. The Hebrew word צִיּוֹן (pronounced Tzee-yohn) has no unique meaning – ranging across fortress, desert, or monument – with its origin still being debated by scholars. One common use is for Mount Zion, a hill in Jerusalem. Close by is Mount Moriah, where King Solomon built the first Temple. In time, the term Zion came to be used for both hills together, and eventually for all of Jerusalem. Thus, the term Zionism refers to the idea of the exiled Jews (the Diaspora) returning to their indigenous homeland, centred at Jerusalem. Surely this was what Halevi believed, even though the word itself was not coined until 1890.
Judah Halevi (also Yahuda ha-Levi) was born in 1075 (alt 1080) probably in Toledo, Spain. This was during the so-called Golden Age of Jewish Culture there. The Jews in Islamic Spain were relatively free – unlike the Jews of central Europe, who suffered under the despotic rule of feudal lords. Highly educated, Judah became a physician, philosopher, mathematician, and poet. Today it is his poetry that has designated him as the greatest Hebrew poet. He died in 1141, probably at the age of 66.
He is often paired with Maimonides, considered the greatest Jewish thinker, who lived a generation later (born 1135). Both were physicians to the courts of the Caliphs in Spain.
Around the year 1120, probably about age 45, Halevi settled in Seville, married, and had one daughter. Another child also may have died. Much later, his wife died, probably after their daughter grew up and had children. With the loss of his wife, Judah grew restless. The Dream of Zion beckoned.
My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west—
How can I find savour in food? How shall it be sweet to me?
How shall I render my vows and my bonds, while yet
Zion lies beneath the fetter of Edom, and I in Arab chains?
A light thing would it seem to me to leave all the good things of Spain—
Seeing how precious in mine eyes to behold the dust of the desolate sanctuary.
This is one of a series of poems on this quest: called today The Songs of Zion, or the Zionides. His ultimate goal was to make aliyah to Jerusalem. To spend his final days there.
Zion! wilt thou not ask if peace be with thy captives
That seek thy peace—that are the remnants of thy flocks?
…
I would choose for my soul to pour itself out within that place
Where the spirit of God was outpoured upon your chosen.
…
I would fall, with my face upon the earth, and take delight
In thy stones and be tender to the dust.
…
Sweet would it be unto my soul to walk naked and barefoot
Upon the desolate ruins where the holiest dwellings were;
In the place of the Ark where it is hidden, and in the place
Of the cherubim which abode in the innermost recesses.
Sometime in 1140 he set out on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Taking a small ship through the Mediterranean, his mind was focused on the goal of being in Jerusalem.
Beautiful height! O joy! the whole world’s gladness!
O great King’s city, mountain blest!
My soul is yearning unto thee—is yearning
From the limits of the west.
…
And who shall grant me, on the wings of eagles,
To rise and seek thee through the years,
Until I mingle with the dust beloved,
The waters of my tears?
…
Shall I not to the very stones be tender?
Shall I not kiss them verily?
Shall not the earth upon my lips taste sweeter
Than honey unto me?
He, of course, also wrote poems about the sea voyage.
My God, break not the breakers of the sea,
Nor say Thou to the deep, ’Be dry’–
Until I thank Thy mercies, and I thank
The waves of the sea and the wind of the west;
Let them waft me to the place of the yoke of Thy love,
And bear far from me the Arab yoke.
There often were storms at sea.
Hath the flood come again and made the world a waste
So that one cannot see the face of the dry land,
And no man is there and no beast and no bird?
…
But only water and sky and ark,
And Leviathan making the abyss to boil,
So that one deems the deep to be hoary.
…
And the sea rages and my soul exults—
For the sanctuary of her God, she draws near.
It was a lonely trip. Thus, it’s not surprising to see him remember – and even dwell upon – the family that he left behind; especially, his daughter and her children.
Even so far that I can forsake her that went forth of my loins,
Sister of my soul—and she mine only one—
And I can forget her son, though it pierces my heart,
And I have nothing left but his memory for a symbol—
Fruit of my loins, child of my delight.
Yet, he remained focused on the goal – Zion.
But all this is a light thing when set against Thy love,
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
…
I cry to God with a melting heart and knees that smite together,
While anguish is in all loins,
On a day when the oarsmen are astonished at the deep,
When even the pilots find not their hands.
How shall I be otherwise, since I, on a ship’s deck,
Suspended between waters and heavens,
Am dancing and tossed about? —Yet this is but a light thing,
If I may but hold the festal dance in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem!
…
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who forms the mountain heights and created the wind.
The sea voyage ended in Alexandra, Egypt on Sept 8, 1140. He was welcomed by the large Jewish community there.
Praise, above all cities, be unto Egypt
Whither came first the word of God.
…
Fate has tossed me into the wilderness of Egypt:
Bid it carry me away and toss me yet again
Until I behold the wilderness of Judah.
Not surprisingly, while in Egypt he recalls Moses, whose name comes up in several poems. Here’s one.
My God, the wonder of Thee is astir from age to age:
And here is the Nile for witness, that Thou hast turned it into blood,
Not by magic …
But by Thy name, by the hand of Moses.
The Jews of Egypt begged him to stay. They must have been quite convincing – or, at least, they kept him occupied with things to do – because, despite his quest for Zion, he remained in Egypt until May 14, 1141, when he finally left – to resume his journey to Zion. (No matter how much I ponder this episode, I remain astonished that he stayed in Egypt over 8 months, especially since he was on the doorstep of Zion. It’s a fact that will ever bother me, and also remind me that no matter how much we may try – we can never really get into another’s mind.)
Can bodies of clay
Be prison-houses
For hearts bound fast
To eagles’ wings—
For a man life weary
Whose whole desire
Is to lay his face
In the chosen dust?
…
To cast Spain from him
And seek shores beyond;
…
To seek forgiveness
At the peaceful graves
Of the ark and the tablets
That are buried there.
It was an auspicious time to be in Palestine. From the fall of 1140 to the summer of 1141 was a period of relative peace and quiet. The land was governed as the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, which encompassed much of what today is the state of Israel. But, of course, Judah was a Jew, and Christian Crusaders had a notorious record of the indiscriminate slaughter of Jews in their wake as they were crossing Europe in their journey to liberate the Holy Land from the Muslims.
As fate would have it: Judah Halevi never got to test the relative peace of the Crusader Kingdom. How close he came to Jerusalem is unknown. All we know for sure is that he died on the way in 1141– probably in July or August.
The historian in me, therefore, expects me to end this story – right here. Done.
However, recalling all Judah went through, leaving his family, the storms at sea – the many, many Zionist poems, only a fraction of which I have quoted here – the Romantic side of me pleads that I bring up the legend that arose sometime after his death.
The legend says that Judah got as far as approaching the gates of Jerusalem. Then, while reciting his poem Ode to Zion – an Arab ran him through with a sword. In another version he was trampled by an Arab horseman. Hence, in either case, he fulfilled his dream of reaching Zion. But just reaching it. That’s all.
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon Your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
I wish it were so. I do. But, as with most legends – this one probably isn’t true. He may not even have come close to Jerusalem.
In the end – and interestingly enough – Judah’s plight seemed to be echoing what happened to Moses in his yearning to see the Promised Land. It was just a quest. Only an (unfulfilled) quest.
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who formed the mountain heights and created the wind.
* * *
For English translations of his poems, I used: Selected Poems of Jehudah Halevi, edited by Heinrich Brody, trans. from the Hebrew by Nina Salaman (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publications Society of America, 1974).
The biography that I have is: The Life and Time of Jehudah Halevi, by Rudolf Kayser, trans. from the German by Frank Gaynor (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949). Kayser, incidentally, is a son-in-law (by marriage) of Albert Einstein.
Features
Elizabeth Taylor’s Jewish connection
By HANNON BELL (Special to jewishpostandnews.ca. All photos from Hannon Bell’s personal collection) Elizabeth Taylor’s Jewish connection may not be well known by the general public, but it played a significant role in her personal life, as well as in her film career.
Mike Todd, Eddie Fisher and Liz’s conversion to Judaism
In 1957, Jewish producer and promotor Mike Todd (whose real name was Avrom Goldbogen) was captivated by a then-25-year-old actress, Elizabeth Taylor, who had already had a long film career, shooting to fame with her star role in “National Velvet” when she was only 12.
By the time Taylor met Todd she had already been married twice before – to hotel magnate Nicky Hilton and British actor Michael Wilding.
Todd though, swept Taylor, with his charm and they married in Mexico in February 1957.
The marriage was attended by Taylor’s parents, Francis and Sara, as well as Todd’s best friend, singer Eddie Fisher, along with Fisher’s wife, actress Debbie Reynolds.
Unfortunately, the union (of which Elizabeth Taylor has said that of all her eight marriages, the ones to Todd and Richard Burton were the most meaningful) didn’t last long as Mike Todd was killed in a plane crash only one month after they were married. He was en route to New York from Los Angeles to attend a Friars Club testimonial dinner in his honour when his plane crashed in New Mexico while it was trying to fly through a storm – killing all onboard.
Ironically, Elizabeth was spared as she had a bad cold and was advised against the trip and chose to stay home.
In her bereavement, she sought out Todd’s best friend, Eddie Fisher.
With both of them seeking understanding and love over the loss of his friend and her husband, feelings went from comfort to love for one another.
The tide had turned and the dutiful widow had now become known as a home wrecker, upsetting the boundaries of America’s perfect couple, Eddie Fisher and pert Debbie Reynolds.
Prior to this though, Elizabeth had begun exploring Judaism during her brief marriage to Mike Todd.
To navigate her through this journey of discovery, Elizabeth studied with Rabbi Max Nussbaum.
In 1959, Elizabeth Taylor and Eddie Fisher were married in a civil and a Jewish ceremony – thus cementing her conversion to Judaism. Here is a photo showing Elizabeth with the Katuba (Jewish marriage certificate).
Discussing her long standing dream of conversion and finally realizing it, Taylor said, “It has nothing to do with any marriage plans. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” she told reporters.
For her conversion Elizabeth adopted the Hebrew name Elisheba Rachel, thus beginning her long devotion to Jewish causes, education and charitable causes.
“Cleopatra”
In perhaps her most famous role, as Cleopatra – in the film of the same name, because of her strong support for Israel, Elizabeth Taylor was not allowed into Egypt in 1962, where the film was scheduled to be partially shot.
As well, Arab nations also banned the showing of any of her films as a result of her conversion to Judaism.
That didn’t matter to Taylor – she could’t have cared less.
Ironically, Egyptians themselves were not able to see the movie about perhaps the most famous Egyptian of all time!
Eventually though, all was forgiven when, in September 1979 – following the signing of a peace accord between Egypt and Israel earlier that year, actress Elizabeth Taylor and 11 Israelis were honoured guests at the Fourth Cairo international Film Festival, which also marked the ending of the cultural boycott of Israel by Egypt.
It was during the festival that Elizabeth Taylor had a sit down with Egyptian President Anwar Sadat – at the presidential rest house in the Suez Canal city of Ismailia.
Devotion to Israel and the Jewish people
In my Elizabeth Taylor collection of over 100 catalogued binders with over 20,000 photos I document many instances of her devotion to Israel and the Jewish people.
In August 1975 Elizabeth Taylor, along with her then husband Richard Burton visited Israel.
A very meaningful moment occurred when Taylor touched the Wailing Wall in silent meditation.
In June of 1976 Elizabeth Taylor was honoured by the American Jewish Congress as an artist and humanitarian for her work in founding The Israeli War Victims Fund after the 1973 Yom Kippur War.
She was presented with her citation by Israeli Ambassador Shimcha Dinitz. Also pictured in a photo at the event is the President of the Congress, Rabbi Arthur Hertzberg.
It was around the same time as that event when she attended a reception where she met with Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York.
Begin referred to Elizabeth Taylor as a “good friend.”
Was that on a personal level or as a strong supporter of Israel?
I tend to believe it was the latter.
In 1977 Elizabeth received the Women’s Division of B’nai Brith’s humanitarian award at a special luncheon held by the Antidefamation League at New York’s St. Regis Hotel.
In May of 1979 Elizabeth attended the Israeli Bonds Dinner in New York.
As of 1979, Elizabeth Taylor had visited the State of Israel five times.
Elizabeth Taylor in films that had Jewish connections
“Love is Better Than Ever”
During the making of 1952’s “Love is Better Than Ever,” Elizabeth Taylor had just annulled her first marriage to Hilton Hotel heir Nicky Hilton when she became involved with the Jewish director of the film, Stanley Donen.
Elizabeth’s mother Sara is reported to have been unhappy and objected to the alliance due to the fact that Donen was Jewish.
“Ivanhoe”
In the 1952 film “Ivanhoe,” Elizabeth played the Jewish character Rebecca. One of the themes the film documents is antisemitism among the Normans and Ivanhoe’s friendship with the wealthy Jew Isaac and his daughter Rebecca.
“Victory at Entebbe”
On December 13, 1976, the movie “Victory at Entebbe” was aired on television in the U.S. The movie was based on true events surrounding the hijacking of Air France Flight 139 by Palestinian terrorists. The flight had departed from Tel Aviv and was headed to Paris when hijackers forced it to divert to Entebbe Airport in Uganda.
The story was close to Elizabeth’s heart and she said she participated in her small role as Edra Vilnovsky in “Victory at Entebbe” for the sake of her fellow Jewish people.
In the film she and costar Kirk Douglas played the Jewish parents of a 16-year-old girl held hostage at Entebbe.
An interesting side note worth mentioning is that Kirk Douglas was supposed to be on the same plane as Mike Todd the night it crashed in 1958. Douglas’s wife Anne had a strange premonition Kirk shouldn’t go on that flight. Fortunately for Anne Douglas, she was right.
“Genocide”
“Genocide” was a 1981 film released by the Simon Wiesenthal Centre. Writing in the New York Times, reviewer Janet Maslin noted that “Miss Taylor, whose narration is particularly simple and affecting, reads letters from victims of the Nazis, farewell to friends and loved ones and horrifying accounts by first hand observers.”
A reviewer in Variety commented that “ Genocide gains its greatest force as a film via Elizabeth Taylor’s emotional voice over of personal testimony by witnesses to the Holocaust terrors.
“A moving performance by Taylor conveys in human terms about a sober rendering of mere facts and figures cannot”.
The Krupp Diamond
Here’s another irony to Elizabeth Taylor’s life: In 1968 Richard Burton bought the famous Krupp diamond as a gift for his then-wife, Elizabeth Taylor.
This 33.19 carat stone was owned by Vera Krupp, whose husband was a Nazi munitions magnate.
Taylor described the the acquisition thusly: “I think it fitting and charming that a nice little Jewish girl like me has ended up with the Baron’s rock.”
In closing
Elizabeth Taylor’s love and fierce dedication to Judaism is something to be admired as she put her heart and soul into the many Jewish causes she supported.
When Elizabeth Taylor passed away on March 23, 2011 she was buried as per Jewish ritual.
May her memory be a blessing
About the author:
Throughout his life Hannon Bell has had many interests and passions.
As an actor he has performed on stage, on film, and on radio.
As a singer and songwriter he has written over 26 songs and won two lyric awards from the American Song Festival.
As a model in his younger days he won a TV commercial award at the Modelling Association of America Convention and Competition in NYC. The award was given to him by Christie Brinkley.
But, more than anything Hannon Bell is probably best known as the owner of the world’s largest collection of Elizabeth Taylor memorabilia.
It all started when, as a teenager in 1963, Bell saw the film “Cleopatra.”
HIs passion turned into a lifelong dedication so much so that Bell is considered an expert on all things Elizabeth Taylor.
Having compiled and catalogued Taylor’s life and career in over 100 binders with over 20,000 photos and more, Bell has earned a reputation as not only a huge fan of Elizabeth Taylor, but also an expert on her life and career.
He has been consulted as a source by authors Kitty Kelly and C. David Heymann, both of whom have written biographies of Elizabeth Taylor.
Bell has been mentioned or featured in: People, Look, Scoop, the National Enquirer, Midnight Magazine, Toronto Star, Vancouver Sun, Winnipeg Tribune, Winnipeg Free Press and Winnipeg Sun.
He has written four songs about Elizabeth Taylor and, according to author C. David Heymann, was the inspiration for the naming of Passion Perfume in 1987. In a letter Taylor wrote to Bell in 1975, she asked him to send her two of his custom T Shirts that had on them the inscription: “HANNON’S PASSION – ELIZABETH TAYLOR.”
After working with Heymann on his biography of Taylor, titled “LIZ,” Hemanann sent Hannon a copy of the book with the signed inscription,”to Hannon, who has the finest Elizabeth Taylor collection in the world.”
Features
Previews of this year’s Fringe Festival shows that have some sort of Jewish connection (no matter how tenuous)
By BERNIE BELLAN (originally posted July 12, amended July 14 & 15) As has been our custom for many years now we try to find shows that have either Jewish performers, themes that would have particular appeal for Jewish audiences…or simply shows where someone contacted me and asked for a plug!
This year’s Fringe Festival runs from July 15-26. For show dates and venues go to winnipegfringe.com.
In no particular order here are blurbs about the shows we’ve found that fit our somewhat arbitrary criteria. (By they way, if we’ve omitted a show that should be included in our list there’s plenty of time to get added to this post. Just drop me a line at jewishp@mymts.net.)
One of the Fringe’s perennial favourites, Alli Perlov is back yet again making great fun of a very popular movie – in this case it’s “Toy Story.”
Here’s what the blurb in the progam says about her show:
Adam Schwartz first appeared at the Winnipeg Fringe Festival in 2013 – in a one-man show. Since then, Adam has gone on to appear in – and produce shows featuring other neurodiverse artists in succeeding years. Adam wrote us: “This summer I am shooting my comedy special. This is a project I’ve been working on for 16 years and I believe is the first Canadian autistic comedy special exploring life. It explores issues like early and late diagnosis, support workers as well as accommodation I have received.”
Another veteran performer on the Fringe circuit, Melanie Gall is returning for her 13th season at the Winnipeg Fringe Festival.
Randy Ross is also back this year. Here’s what Randy wrote us: “I’ll be back at the Winnipeg fringe in July with a new show, ‘How Much Can You Change for Someone You Love?’
Winnipegger Nicholas Rice is a veteran of the Winnipeg theatre scene. He has appeared in five Winnipeg Jewish Theatre productions over the years. This year will mark Nicholas’s second time appearing in a Winnipeg Fringe Festival show. His first appearance, two years ago, was in a show also called “A Side of Rice” but, in chatting with Nicholas he told me this new show,”Another Side of Rice,” will be completely different from that first show.
During the show, Nicholas said, he “will tell three different stories” from different parts of his life. The first story will relate an experience he had at Sir John Franklin School (which no longer exits). The second story will be about an experience Nicholas had while teaching in Toronto where, he says, one of his students, upon finding out Nicholas was Jewish, told him that he “would burn in hell.”
The third story will also be set in Toronto. The show will last 70 minutes, Nicholas added.
Rudi stands outside his father’s study in Paraguay, struggling to find the courage to go in. It’s been seven years since he left after uncovering the truth: that his father was a doctor at Auschwitz.
Haunted by a past he didn’t create but can’t escape, Rudi is forced to grapple with the legacy of his father’s crimes and search for a way to live with the weight of inherited guilt. Another tour-de-force script from acclaimed Canadian playwright Hannah Moscovitch, whose powerful and provocative work continues to captivate audiences worldwide.
On July 15 we received an email from someone by the name of Jillian Birdie Burke. Here’s part of what Burdie wrote: “My name is Birdie Burke, I am a Jewish artist and I’m one of the producers and performers of A Kid Napping, a new comedy is coming to the Winnipeg, Saskatoon, and Victoria Fringe Festivals this summer – from the same duo who brought you last year’s award-winning BRAIN.
“ Kid Napping follows two well-meaning but wildly incompetent ex-convicts whose kidnapping plan goes spectacularly wrong when they accidentally find themselves caring for a room full of kindergarteners.
“As part of the production, we’re also donating proceeds from our sales to local children’s organizations in each city we visit.
“For Winnipeg we’ll be focusing on Rossbrook Kids and the Rainbow Resources team.”
Okay – now here is where we start to get away from previewing Jewish performers, but I’ll explain in each case why I’ve included a particular show.
Safe Sex is a collection of three one-act plays written by Harvey Fierstein who is Jewish, but had said that “although he does not believe in God, he prays three or four times each day.”
“As one of the first openly gay celebrities in the United States, Fierstein helped turn gay and lesbian life into a viable subject for contemporary drama.”
Now, since Harvey Fierstein grew up in New York – a very Jewish city, when we were contacted by someone by the name of Charlie Hume who said he was an actor and producer with a company called Starr Street Productions – based in New York City, we had to ask him whether there was any Jewish connection?
Charlie replied: “Perhaps unfortunately, the show is written and performed by Catholics. I would say that our company’s greatest connection to Judaism is that we all studied together at The Lee Strasberg Theater and Film Institute. Lee Strasberg- if you’re not familiar- was a legendary Jewish acting coach who was instrumental in revolutionizing theater and the performing arts in New York City and beyond. We walk in the footsteps of Lee and many other Jewish cultural leaders, who have long been among the most steadfast supporters of the arts in America.”
Well, that’s good enough for me. Here’s a description of their play:
Finally – and this one really is a stretch – three days ago we were speaking to Reverend Don James, who is the National Development Director at Bridges for Peace (an organization that has close ties to our Jewish community) when Don happened to mention that his daughter, Hilary, is producing a Fringe show that has something to do with a Fleetwood Mac record album. (Apparently Don had never heard of “Rumors” because he didn’t know what the name of the album was. Oy!)
So I said to Don: “Have your daugher contact me and I’ll give her a blurb.” Well, she hasn’t contacted me yet, but I’m giving her a blurb – whether she wants one or not!
