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A list of all Winnipeg synagogues that ever existed

Montage of Winnipeg synagogues
that existed circa 1925

Further to our story about the Ashkenazie Synagogue proposing to repurpose itself, which you can read elsewhere on this site at http://jewishpostandnews.ca/local/983-ashkenazie-synagogue-sees-to-repurpose-itself-into-a-synagogue-museum, we were intrigued at the suggestion that there were, at one time, 14 (or 18, depending which Minuk brother was offering information), synagogues in the North End.
Apparently both Minuks were well short of the mark. If  you click on “Read More” you will find a complete list of synagogues that existed in Manitoba at one time or another, along with a caption giving the names of the synagogues in the montage at left.

Wpg synagogues

 

The above montage shows various synagogues and schools circa 1925 in Winnipeg. The montage is on display in the Adas Yeshurun – Herzlia Synagogue.
From top left: Beth Shalom, Nassau / Rosh Pina, Martha / Beth Moshav Zkenim / Jewish Orphanage / Shaarey Zedek, Dagmar / Ashkenazi ; Second Row: Tiferes Israel, Manitoba / Knesset Israel Shul, Charles / Talmud Torah, Flora and Charles / Beth Jacob Synagogue, Schultz / Shul, Burrows / Atereth Israel, Manitoba Ave.; Third Row: Adas Yeshurun, McGregor / Beit Haknesset Shaarey Zion, Aikins / Roumanian Beth Abraham Shul, Charles / Lubavitch Shul, 591 Magnus ; Bottom Row: Talmud Torah, Kildonan / Chevra Mishnayes, Robinson / Talmud Torah, Main St. / Small Talmud Torah, Andrews / Ohel Jacob, Selkirk / Tiferes Israel Shul, Kildonan/
(Thanks to Stan Carbone, curator of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada, for supplying the photo and caption.)

 

Many of the names in the following list are repeated, as they changed locations, sometimes several times. According to this list, there would have been 34 different synagogues or venues that offered facilities for services north of the CPR tracks at one time or another, not counting the Winnipeg Beach synagogue.

MANITOBA SYNAGOGUES PAST AND PRESENT

Beth El (Reformed) 1880s Princess Street (Harris Block)
Sons of Israel (Orthodox)(later Rosh Pina) 1884 Henry & Main
Milchige Synagogue (Milkmens’ Shul) 1880s Higgins Avenue
Beth El of Israel 1890 King & Henry
Shaarey Zedek 1890 King & Common (now Henry)
Rosh Pina 1893 Martha Street
Bnay Abraham 1903 Schultz Avenue
Holy Blossom 1904 Maccabee Hall, 216 Pacific
Chevra Mishnayes 1906 Stella & Robinson
Bnai Zion 1906 Charles Street
Bnai Israel (Brandon) 1906 3rd and Princess Street
Shaarey Shomayim (later Shaarey Zedek) 1907 Dagmar Street
Adas Yeshurun 1907 McGregor Street
Beth Jacob 1907 Schultz Avenue
Hebrew Sick Benefit Association 1907 239 Selkirk Avenue
Beth David Synagogue 1908 3rd Street S.E. (Portage la Prairie)
Kildonan Synagogue 1912 Lillian Avenue
Talmud Torah 1912 Flora & Charles
Tiferes Israel 1913 Manitoba & Powers
Ohel Jacob 1913 685 Selkirk Avenue
Kildonan Synagogue 1915 Newton Avenue
Shaarey Zion 1917 Aikins Street
Aberdeen Synagogue 1917 Aberdeen Avenue
Ateres Israel 1918 469 Magnus
Jewish Orphanage 1920 Matheson Avenue
Knesset Israel 1920s 46 Charles Street
Romanian Beth Abraham 1920s Charles Street
Kildonan Talmud Torah 1920s
Main Street Talmud Torah 1920s
Andrews Street Talmud Torah 1920s 220 Andrews
Kildonan Tiferes Israel 1920s
House of Ashkenaze 1922 297 Burrows
Lubavitcher Synagogue 1922 555 Magnus
Beth Sholem (Fort Rouge Hebrew Congregation) 1922 232 Nassau Street
Merkarever Shul 1920s 413 Boyd Avenue
Tiferes Israel 1930s 428 Manitoba Avenue
Chesed Shel Emes 1933 1025 Main Street
Beth Judah (Butchers Shul) 1937 242 Manitoba Avenue
Sharon Home Chapel 1940 146 Magnus Avenue
Shaarey Zedek 1949 Wellington Crescent & Maryland
Hebrew Conregation of Wpg. Beach 1951 16 Grove Street, Wpg. Beach
Rosh Pina 1952 123 Matheson Avenue
Herzlia Academy/Adas Yeshurun 1955 Brock & Fleet
Talmud Torah-Beth Jacob 1955 427 Matheson Avenue
Bnay Abraham 1958 235 Enniskillen Avenue
Chevra Mishnayes 1965 700 Jefferson Avenue
Temple Shalom 1966 Grant & Wilton
Beth Israel Congregation 1976 1007 Sinclair Avenue
Chavurat Tefila 1978 McGregor & Hartford
Shul at Chabad 1980 2095 Sinclair Street

Haminyan (breakaway group from Adas Yeshurun – Herzlia Congregation) circa 1987, located in Ramah Hebrew School
The Chabad Torah Centre 1997 Grant & Beaverbrook
Talmud Torah-Beth Jacob 1998 1525 Main St. (former Hyland Theatre)
Hebrew Conregation of Wpg. Beach 1998 Camp Massad

Shir Tikvah (High Holiday services held in Viscount Gort) 2002-2018
Chabad – Lubavitch Jewish Learning Centre 2010 1845 Mathers Avenue
The New Shul 2011 services held at the Caboto Centre
(1055 Wilkes Avenue)

Historical records indicate that there were religious services/congregations in places such as Winkler, Plum Coulee, Bird’s Hill and Camper. There may have been others as well.

The above list was largely supplied by Stan Carbone, curator of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada. It was orginally compiled by the late Harry Gutkin, a former president of the Jewish Historical Society of Western Canada, in an article he wrote for the Historical Society titled “Old Roots in New Soil – The Synagogues of Winnipeg”.

 

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Features

I Speak “Jew”

Morrocan Jewish fish dish

By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”

That’s all.


Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967

He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project

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Features

At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence

By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact.  A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many  contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store.  He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls.  “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.)  “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says.  We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s.  After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William.  The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales.  “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says.  “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods.  “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods.  The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete.  I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage.  Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed.  She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly. 
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene.  For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century.  Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.  

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Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco

“The Chronos of Andalucia” author Merom Toledano

By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier.  She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego.  When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape.  They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous  journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places. 
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom  Toledano’s first language.  The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world. 
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country.  His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano.  His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele.  He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.        

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