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 Booze, Glorious Booze! Bill Wolchock and Prohibition in Manitoba

Ed. introduction: This story was originally published to our website in October, 2023, but it resonated so much with readers – who have continually told me they enjoyed it so much, I’ve decided to bring it back to our Home page every once in a while. It has received an astounding number of views since it was first published – over 10,000making it the most popular story ever published on this website.

To explain, last September, I began what turned into an unexpectedly amusing dive into a part of our Jewish community’s history that is endlessly fascinating to me when I wrote about a book that was published in October titled “Jukebox Empire: The Mob and the Dark Side of the Amerian Dream.”
That book is about someone by the name of Wilf Rabin, who was originally Wilf Rabinovitch. Rabin was born in Morden, but moved to Chicago as a young man. Eventually he became involved in the juke box business – a business which was ripe from the outset for exploitation by criminals, especially the Mafia, as juke boxes spun out huge amounts of cash that were never reported to tax authorities.
In the course of writi­ng my article about that book, I mentioned several other Jewish characters who preferred to make their money illegally. I also referred to someone whose name was spelled “Bill Wolchuk” in a book about Winnipeg’s North End, but I made the mistake of saying “Wolchuk” wasn’t Jewish.
Boy, did that unleash a torrent of corrections from readers. It was made quite clear to me that Bill “Wolchock” was very much Jewish – and that he was practically a legend in this town.
Then I received a phone call from reader Arnold Rice, who told me that he had in his possession an article from a December 2, 2002 Winnipeg Free Press about Bill Wolchock. Arnold offered to loan me the article, but I declined, saying I could probably find the article on the Winnipeg Pubic Library digital archives.
That I did – and when I scanned the article, which was written by a former Free Press writer by the name of Bill Redekop, I thought to myself: Here’s the perfect article for our Rosh Hashanah issue: It’s much too long to ever fit into any other issue – and the theme will likely resonate with many of our readers who might consider atoning for their sins on Yom Kippur.
In any event, I was able to get in touch with Bill Redekop and I obtained his permission to reprint the article in full (for a fee, of course). It turns out the article forms a chapter in a book written by Redekop in 2002, titled “Crimes of the Century – Manitoba’s Most Notorious True Crimes.”
I told Redekop that I was actually able to find the book on Amazon – much to his amazement, but that it was also available at several branches of the Winnipeg Public Library. Now, it wasn’t easy transcribing that chapter of Redekop’s book, but I thought it might prove delightful reading for many of our readers.
So, here goes: The story of Manitoba’s greatest bootlegger – Bill Wolchock – someone whose success was on a par with that other great Jewish bootlegging family: the Bronfmans. (Wolchock, however, liked bootlegging so much that he turned down the opportunity to go straight, unlike the Bronfmans. Can you just imagine how much the Combined Jewish Appeal could have benefited from a “straight” Bill Wolchock? And what of all the buildings that would have been named after him – and honours he would have received from our Jewish community, if he had only decided to emulate the Bronfmans?)

A pair of employees talking on the floor of the CNR shops in Transcona sounds like an unlikely launch to the biggest bootleg operation in Manitoba history.

It was the early 1920s under Prohibition. Leonard Wolchock, 74 son of bootlegger, Bill Wolchock, tells the story.
“Sonny (nickname), a CNR boilermaker one day came up to my dad, who was a machinist with the railway and asked if he could make a part for him. “What’s it for?” my dad asked. “It’s for a still,” Sonny said. Sonny was making stills for farmers out in the country. My dad said, “Sonny, you want to make a still? I’ll make you a still and we’re not going to fool around!”

What began as a still to make a little booze for themselves and friends during Canada’s Prohibition certain soon turned into something much bigger. The two CNR workers realized there was an insatiable thirst for their product. “I don’t think dad planned to be in the business for a long time. It was just going good,” said Leonard.
“Before you know it, my dad was making big booze. He could knock out almost 1000 gallons a day. He wasn’t one of these Mickey Mouse guys making 10 gallons like in the country, like in Libau and all these places. And as time went by, he became very big.”
Sonny and Wolchock parted ways when Wolchock quit the railway to work full-time at alcohol production, but other partners came on side. Every one of them was the same: blue collar men like Wolchock who made a living with their hands.
During Prohibition in the 1920s, Bill Wolchock ran the biggest bootlegging business in Manitoba. He was producing tens of thousands of gallons of 65% overproof alcohol – 94% pure alcohol.
Later, after his business took off, Wolchock shipped almost exclusively to the United States and mostly to gangsters. He stored illegal in farmers’ barns from the village of Reston in southwestern Manitoba to the village of Tolstoi in southeastern Manitoba. He stored illegal booze in a coal yard that used to be on Osborne Street in Winnipeg; in a large automobile service station in St. Boniface;. and in a St. Boniface lumberyard. He stored booze in a Pritchard Avenue horse barn. Those are just some of the known locations.
At the height of the Great Depression, Leonard estimates his father employed as many as 50 people who would not have been able to put food on the table otherwise. “They all had families, they all had houses, they all could put groceries on the table, thanks to the illegal business,” said Leonard.

Crooks or entrepreneurs?
Wolchock’s story has euded historians all these years. When Wolchock was finally caught and sentenced to five years in prison for income tax evasion, the Second World War was on, and his case didn’t get the publicity it might have otherwise. Besides, the Prohibition era had been over for more than a decade and was old news. Wolchock hadn’t gone straight like the whiskey-making Bronfman family, but had continued to bootleg long after Prohibition had ended.
Leonard Wolchock told the story of his father and a gang of North End bootleggers for the first time for this book. The story was checked against news clippings from the period.
Wolchock owned at least two large stills in Winnipeg. A huge four-story still operation in a building that was in the 1000 block on Logan Avenue, just east of McPhillips Street, that produced up to 400 gallons a day; and a huge still in a building that used to be on Tache Avenue, about 300 meters west of the Provencher Bridge on the river side. He also had smaller stills, often in rural locations and owned portable stills. He moved around from barn to barn outside Winnipeg to elude police.
Wolchock never considered what he was doing wrong, said his son. He thought the governments were wrong. People were going to find a way to drink one way or another.
“My father was a manufacturer. He was filling a niche market. I’m not ashamed of anything he did,” said Leonard.
Even the police chief who lived just five doors down from the Wolchock home at 409 Boyd Avenue would drop in regularly for a friendly drink. The fire commissioner, who lived one street over on College Avenue and three houses down, was another thirsty visitor. Granted, Wolchock ran a little import liquor businesses as a front, which was legal at the time, but Leonard has little doubt the authorities knew what his father’s main source of income was.
“The chief of police knew what my father was doing, and the fire chief was over at our place all the time!” said Leonard.

When the RCMP finally moved in on his father for income tax evasion, it was a measure of the respect for Wolchock that he was never arrested. Police called his dad with the news, said Leonard. “The police chief phoned up and said, ‘Bill, I want you to come down.’ They never sent anyone to get him.”
Booze, glorious booze! Was it more glamorous in Prohibition when it was illegal, or was the illegal liquor trade more harmful by turning otherwise law abiding men into criminals? Was illegal liquor more dangerous to your health (alcohol poisoning), and did concealed drink drinking lead to more serious drinking problems?
While both Canada and the United States brought in Prohibition, there was a great gulf in how Prohibition played out in the two countries. Like a typical Canadian TV drama, Prohibition was more shouting than shooting in Canada. In the United States, it was more shooting. Much more.
Corpses in the gangster booze wars in the US were rarely found with just one or two bullets in them, but four, five, eight. Gangsters adopted the submachine gun invented by John Thompson in the 1920s, variously dubbed the Tommy Gun, Chopper Gat, and Chicago Typewriter. Frank Gusenberg took 22 bullets in the famous St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in Chicago, when Al Capone’s men disguised as police officers lined up seven of George “Bugs” Moran’s men against a warehouse wall and opened fire. One creative reporter at the time wrote the machine guns “belched death.”
These two news stories from a single September day in 1930 on the front page of the Manitoba Free Press are typical:
Detroit, Michigan: “An unidentified man was killed tonight by two assassins, armed with sawed-off shotguns who stepped out of an automobile, fired four charges into the body of their victim and escaped in the auto. It was the third gang killing of the week here.
Elizabeth, New Jersey: “Twelve gunmen waited in ambush within Sunrise Brewery here today, disarming a raiding party of seven dry agents and shot and killed one of the invaders.” One federal agent was found shot eight times. “The gangsters, who apparently had been forewarned of the raid, than escaped.”
There are likely several reasons why Canada didn’t go the gangster route. One, there were more loopholes in Canadian law to get liquor if you wanted. For example, you could get a prescription for “medical” brandy. Two, we have never been as gun-happy as the Americans. And three, our Prohibition didn’t last as long. Prohibition in the U.S. ran from 1920-1933. In Manitoba, Prohibition started in 1916 and ended in 1923.
While Canada didn’t have the gang wars like down south, it did become the feeder system, the exporter, the good neighbour and free trader to the U.S. for liquor. Our Prohibition was winding down just as American Prohibition was getting started in 1920. How fortuitous for an enterprising bootlegger! Manitobans could legally buy liquor from the government and run it across the border into the hands of thirsty Americans.
And being neighbourly, we did. One of the major gateways was the Turtle Mountains in southwestern Manitoba. Booze poured through the hills, said James Ritchie, archivist with the Boissevain and Morton Regional Library.
“A longstanding tradition of smuggling through the Turtle Mountains already existed before Prohibition. People had already been smuggling things across for 50 years or more, so alcohol was just more item of trade,” Richie said.
Minot, North Dakota, of all places, was a gangster haven and was dubbed “Little Chicago” back then. A railway town, it served it as a distribution hub for liquor coming in from Manitoba and Saskatchewan.
The 65-kilometer border of Turtle Mountain Hills is carved with trails every few kilometers so there was no way a border patrol could close down the rum running, said Richie. Many of the trails were simply road allowances where a road hadn’t got built. “If you tried to cross anywhere near Emerson, where it’s so flat, the custom guard could see your car coming from 10 miles away. You can’t do that in the Turtles. The custom guard can’t see you from 500 feet away,” said Ritchie.
Many a poor southwestern Manitoba farm family augmented their income with a little rumrunning. They could buy a dozen bottles every two weeks, the government-set allotment for personal use, and sell it for profit just a few miles away. “Prohibition created an economic opportunity for a lot of families,” said Ritchie.
But it was small trade compared to what the Bronfmans would do. Ezekiel and Mindel Bronfman arrived in Brandon in the late 1800s. The 1901 Canada Census lists them as residents of Brandon, along with their children, including Harry and Sam. It was after the Bronfmans had moved to Saskatchewan that they began selling whiskey to the United States in the 1920s. They exported whiskey by the boxcar-load. They later moved to Brandon briefly, where they continued the rumrunning before finally setting up in Montreal.

Meanwhile, Winnipeg was the bacchanalia of the West prior to Prohibition, as the late popular history writer James H Gray, liked to say. By 1882, Winnipeg had 86 hotels, most of which had had saloons. It also had five breweries, 24 wine and liquor stores (15 of which were on Main Street), and 64 grocery stores selling whiskey. The population was just 16,000.
When government turned off the tap, Manitobans went underground. Private stills sprang up everywhere. Ukrainian farmers were famous for their stills and acted as engineering consultants for the rest of the community. The Ukrainians seemed to have an inborn talent for erecting the contraptions, and some stills made the old country potato whiskey. In Ukrainian settlements like Vida, Sundown, and Tolstoi someone’s child was always assigned the task of changing the pail from under the spigot that caught the slow dripping distilled whiskey.

Even Winnipeg Mayor Ralph Webb, who had an artificial leg and was manager of the Marlborough Hotel, campaigned for more liberal liquor laws. Webb wanted to attract tourism by promoting Winnipeg as “the city of snowballs and highballs.”
The United States was interested in the Canadian experiment with Prohibition and summoned Francis William Russell, president of the Moderation League of Manitoba, a group that opposed Prohibition, to a U.S. Senate committee in Washington in 1926. Russell said Prohibition simply resulted in the proliferation of stills in Manitoba.
Arrests for illegal stills rose from 40 in 1918, two years into Prohibition in Manitoba, to 300 by 1923. “We found that the province of Manitoba was covered with stills,” he said. He claimed Prohibition hadn’t stopped drinking, it had just kicked it out of the public bar and into the home where it wreaked havoc on families.
One of the strangest still stories took place in the RM of Springfield, just east of Winnipeg, when an RCMP officer and a Customs inspector came across a “mystery” shack. Sure enough, they found a still inside and went in and began dismantling the evidence. Unknown to them, the owners arrived, saw what was going on, and set fire to the shack with them in it. The agents escaped the flames in time, but so did the arsonists, and no charges were laid.
Yet historical accounts only mentioned small stills in Manitoba. Some historians concluded there was no major bootlegging out of Winnipeg, just small neighbourhood and homestead stills. The story of Bill Wolchock shows that not to be true.

Winnipeg had two large thirsty markets in its vicinity: the Twin Cities, St. Paul and Minneapolis in Minnesota, and to a lesser extent, Chicago, Illinois.
St. Paul was a nest of gangsters. John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson, Machine Gun Kelly, and Ma Barker and her sons, all took refuge in the city at one time or another. The person who ran the underworld in St. Paul was gangster Isadore “Kid Cann” Blumenfeld.
Chicago, of course, was the gangster capital of North America, controlled by Al Capone.
Capone was just 25 years old when he controlled Chicago. It does seem that Prohibition brought many young people into crime. Another Chicago bootlegger, Hymie Weiss, was gunned down by Capone’s men at the tender age of 28. “Hymie Weiss was not Jewish as his name suggests, but Catholic. His real name was Wajciechowski, and Hymie was a nickname.)
Wolchock and his partners were in their early twenties when they started selling booze. Wolchock shipped pure alcohol to both the Twin Cities and Chicago, but more so to Minnesota. When his son Leonard attended a convention in Minneapolis years later, he was feted by a gangster-looking character who recognized Leonard’s resemblance to his father. The gangster offered to foot his bill.
Wolchock Sr. Also sold to Duluth, Minnesota, and to Alberta distilleries. It’s also likely he was also shipping to Minot, since he was storing alcohol in barns in southwestern Manitoba. His business was selling to other manufacturers who brewed the pure alcohol into liquor. He would get rich from it.

Archibald William Wolchock was born in Minsk, Russia, which is now in Ukraine, in 1898, and came to Winnipeg in 1906 with his parents. He grew up and married and lived at 409 Boyd Avenue, at the corner of Boyd and Salter Street. Wolchock wasn’t a gangster, but he sold to them. Leonard believes his father likely dealt with Kid Cann in the Twin Cities, who ran the illegal liquor business there. “My dad did a lot of business in St. Paul,” said Leonard.
Most of what Leonard knows about his dad’s business was told to him by friends and associates of his dad. His father followed the code of the day and kept his business and home separate. Wolchock had a simple rule for his son if people should ask about his work: he would press his index finger to his lips.
While at Assiniboia Downs a man once approached Leonard and said he knew his dad. This sort of thing happened a lot in Leonard’s life because he resembled his dad.
“The guy was a railroader,” Leonard related. “He said, ‘I knew your dad. We stole a train for him once. I said, ‘Get out of here.’ He said, ‘Listen, your dad said he had a big shipment going to Chicago that he couldn’t deliver by car. I told him, ‘Don’t worry, Bill.’ The man said a crew of four, including a brakeman, pulled an engine and three box cars over at Bergen cut-off and loaded them with alcohol. The alcohol, when it went by rail, was shipped in 45 gallon drums. Somewhere along the track, the railway men switched the cars over to the Soo Line track that went to Chicago. When the payoff came, Wolchock showed up at a secret location and dished out $100 bills like playing cards to the railroaders.
The Bronfman family knew about Wolchock and Wolchock, of course, knew about them. Wolchock was friendly with the Bronfman brother-in-law, Paul Matoff, who ran Bronfman stores in Carduff, Gainsborough, and Bienfait, Saskatchewan where he sold whiskey to American rumrunners. On October 4th, 1922, Matoff took payment from a North Dakota bootlegger. Shortly after a 12-gauge shotgun blast killed him instantly in the railway station. The murder was never solved.
“Matoff told my dad, ‘Bill, your market is in the States,’” said Leonard.

Another time a friend of Wolchock Sr., nicknamed Tubby, took Leonard aside. They bumped into each other at the hospital, where Wolchock was dying. “Tubby said he and his brother had a truck, and one day my dad called and asked if they had a tarp for the truck. They said, yeah, so dad said, “Go to such and such place, back up your truck, don’t get out, don’t look in the mirror, don’t do nothing. Someone will put something in your truck. Then go to this address and do the same. Don’t get out, don’t look in your rearview mirror, don’t do nothing.’ That’s how business was done.”
Wolchock was always a sharp dresser and wore suits and long overcoats. His shirts were specially made by Maurice Rothschild’s in Minneapolis and monogrammed AWW across the pocket. His suits were made in the Abe Palay tailor shop that used to be on Garry Street across from the old Garrick Theater. “My dad wore a fedora because he was bald,” said Leonard. One of Wolchock‘s favourite hangouts was the Russian Steam Baths on Dufferin Avenue, where he went Wednesdays and Saturdays.
When that closed, he and his bootleg pals went to Obee’s Steam Baths on McGregor near Pritchard.
Wolchock had a chain of people with various trades and skills on the payroll and always paid well. For example, he had agreements with several tinsmiths to make him the gallon cans to put the alcohol in when it was being smuggled by car.
One tinsmith told Leonard he used to make $200-$400 per week moonlighting for his father. He earned $30 a week on his day job as a tinsmith.
The gallon cans would be put in jute bags and tossed in the back of a car. The drivers would go across the border at small town points like Tolstoi and Gretna.
Border security back then wasn’t like it is today.
Wolchock couldn’t buy anything in bulk, like the sugar to make the alcohol or the cans to put the liquor into, because it would attract too much attention. So he had deals all over the place. He had a deal with a major local bakery, which used to have a central bakery and stores around Winnipeg, to supply him the sugar. He also had a deal with a bakery out on the West Coast.
Wolchock even had deals with hog farmers to get rid of the mash from alcohol production, which makes an excellent feedstuff for livestock. He had drivers and sales agents. He had a chemist on the payroll.
Wolchock also had two or three henchmen. They carried guns in shoulder holsters and hung around the family, but they were the only business associates that ever came to the house. “My dad lived a normal life. We sat and listened to hockey games, but he had strong-armed men around if there was any trouble,” Leonard recalled.
“My dad wasn’t a run-around,” said Leonard. “He was a family man. He was home for lunch and dinner all the time.”
Wolchock also had a friend highly placed with the federal excise office in Winnipeg. His name cannot be revealed here. He also had a highranking local bank official who helped him, but Leonard also doesn’t know in what way. Wolchock once gave his sister $30,000 to deposit in a bank, but that’s all Leonard knows about the transaction. Later in life, Leonard once asked the banker, a big gruff man who always smoked a cigar, what his arrangement was with his father. “None of your f-ing business,” the banker snapped.
One of the problems for Wolchock was where to put the money. He made piles of money, but he couldn’t deposit it in the bank like everyone else because he couldn’t explain to authorities how he made it. Leonard thinks he stashed it, but doesn’t know where. While the family didn’t live ostentatiously, perhaps because that would have attracted attention, they always had money at a time when most people didn’t. “People were dirt poor. There was no money around,” said Leonard. All four of Wolchock ‘s sons received vehicles when they were old enough to drive and all would later get houses when they left home.
One of Wolchock’s hobbies was collecting racehorses with names like Dark Wonder, Sun Trysts, Let’s Pretend. “My dad had a stable of horses in the early days to just get rid of the money,” said Leonard. Leonard’s mother Rose used to travel to watch the horses race at major racetracks in California and Hastings Park in Vancouver. Other enterprises Wolchock invested in included buying a ladies’ garment factory and the Sylvia Hotel in Vancouver. Leonard believes his father may have been a millionaire by the time he married Rose in 1927. Leonard was born the next year. “My mother’s family was poor. Dad gave them lots of money. He paid for everything. Money was of no consequence.”
His parents regularly took vacations in Hot Springs, Arkansas, which was sort of a racketeer tourist destination at the time, with legal gambling introduced thanks to gangster Meyer Lansky. It also had bath houses with natural hot springs. For some reason, racketeers had a thing for steam baths and hot springs.

Leonard claims – and insists it’s true – that his father would carry around $15,000 on him all the time. He once walked into a car dealership on Portage Avenue where McNaught Motors is now and bought a Cadillac on the spot with cash. “I never saw my dad with a wallet. All he had was a roll of bills with an elastic around it.”

Everything was in cash. For his bootlegging business Wolchock would buy six to eight cars at a time for his rumrunners to transport booze. He bought the cars at two Winnipeg dealerships where he had business relations. The first thing he always did with the new cars was tear out the backseat so he could fit in more alcohol. The stable of cars was parked inside a St. Boniface service garage. The runners had access day and night, mostly night. They sometimes went all the way to destinations like St. Paul, but usually they would just cross the border and unload into a shuttle car driven by an American rumrunner.
Wolchock and his merry men were a crosssection of Manitoba nationalities and religious origins in the 1920s. Wolchock was Jewish, and his cohorts were a mix of Poles, Frenchmen, Scotsmen, Ukrainians, Jews, Mennonite farmers near Steinbach, and Belgians – “a lot of Belgians,” Leonard said.
Leonard doesn’t know exactly how many people it took to run a still, maybe eight for the larger ones. When RCMP busted Wolchock‘s large still on Logan Avenue in 1936, it was the largest still ever found in Manitoba. Its operations extended to all four floors and into the basement, according to the Manitoba Free Press. The building also had an office, two vehicles and living quarters on the third floor. Employees gained entrance to the living quarters through a crawl space. In the living quarters were bunk beds and cooking equipment and books. The building was empty when police raided it. No charges were laid. The building was owned by the city from a tax sale.
Even after Prohibition ended and liquor was legal, it was government-controlled in Canada, so good money could still be made in bootlegging. The Bronfmans had managed the tricky business from illegal bootlegger to legal distiller, but not Wolchock. Like most law breakers, he didn’t quit while he was ahead.

RCMP finally charged Wolchock after customer Howard Gimble of Minneapolis got caught and ratted on him. Gimble was the key witness against Wolchock. The Manitoba Free Press reported that RCMP had tried been trying to nail Wolchock for years before Gimble gave them their break.
The charge was conspiring to defraud the federal government out of income tax moneys on liquor sales. The RCMP claimed he defrauded the government of $125,000, but that that was just a figure plucked out of the air, based on the scale of operation from a single portable still. The jury was locked up for the 10-day trial because of previous suspicions of jury tampering. Gimble told the court Wolchock had a portable still he moved from farm to farm near Winnipeg. RCMP found the still on Paul Demark’s farm in Prairie Grove, now a bedroom community at the end of Ste. Anne’s Road, just past the Winnipeg perimeter. But Gimble told the court Wolchock also used the still on the farm of Abraham Toews near Ste. Anne on Dave Letkeman’s farm just southeast of Steinbach, and in Jay Kehler’s barn one mile west of Steinbach. Court was also shown pictures of warehouses and buildings around Winnipeg, including St. Boniface, used in Wolchock ‘s illegal liquor business. Gimble also alleged Wolchock operated another still on a farm near Stonewall. He said it produced five thousands of gallons of alcohol that summer of 1940.
Wolchock and seven of his partners were convicted, but it took three trials. The first trial was declared a mistrial due to suspicion of jury tampering. In the second trial proceedings were halted when Wolchock required a hernia operation. Finally, he was sent to jail.
He got five years in Stony Mountain Penitentiary, and that was before there was such a thing as parole. It is the most severe sentence ever laid in Manitoba history for a liquor offense. Up to that point in March of 1940, no one had received more than an eight-month sentence for liquor offenses in Manitoba. Also convicted and sentenced were Ned Balakowski, three years; Ben Balakowski, eight months; Frank McGirl, eight months; Jules Mourant, one year. Sam Arborg, Eugene Mourant, and Cass Morant each received suspended sentences.
After serving his time, Wolchock remembered the people who helped him in prison. A prison guard at Stony Mountain named Mr. Anderson was always kind to Wolchock. When Wolchock finished his prison term, Leonard was sent out every Christmas over to the Anderson household to deliver food and presents.

Wolchock Sr. also gave generously to the Salvation Army. “He was a great guy to the Salvation Army because the Sally Ann was very good to him in jail,” said Leonard. His father also saw to it that Leonard took Jewish dishes to the Jewish prisoners in Stony Mountain on the high holidays.
He had money left when he got out of jail but the cost of lawyers for three trials drained a lot of it. Wolchock paid everybody’s legal fees. His wife Rose managed their family of four young boys while he was in prison for five years, and Wolchock, when he got out, bought the home then called Bardal Estate, formerly owned by Winnipeg Funeral Director Neil Bardal. It’s a large clapboard house at the end of Hawthorne Avenue in North Kildonan, along the river on what is now named Kildonan Drive. “There was a fireplace in every bedroom,” Leonard recalled. Wolchock also had money to buy a little company, Canadian Wreckage and Salvage.
But the money wasn’t anything like he was used to and, after a couple years, Wolchock called his old mates together for a meeting. He wanted to make one last batch. Who was in? So the men walled off a portion of the Bardal’s home basement. Two of Wolchock’s close friends were bricklayers – and they constructed a still behind the wall. There were no neighbors on Kildonan Drive at the time, so there was no one to detect the smell from alcohol production. The men made the alcohol, distributed to people they could trust, and dismantled the operation. Then they rode off into the sunset.
“The old man had a bundle of money and he dished out to everyone. Louis went to Sudbury and got a 7-Up franchise; Charlie went to California and bought a liquor store; Benny G bought a trucking company; Benny B moved to Vancouver; Ned went back to work.” There were others involved, but Leonard doesn’t know what became of them. Other partners had already taken their money and invested before the RCMP arrest: Johnny B moved to Vancouver and bought a furniture store; Fred S bought a retail fish store in Winnipeg that still exists today under different owners; another partner went into the hotel business.
And Wolchock? “My dad started Capital Lumber at 92 Higgins Avenue with a partner,” said Leonard. “He didn’t make money like in the past, but he still called the shots and had a successful little business.”
That was Prohibition.
“There was honour among men. Back then, your word was your bond. Nothing was written down. Everything was a handshake,” said Leonard.
“My dad came to this country and he always called it the land of milk and honey. He always said that. He said it after he got out of prison, too. He was never bitter.”
Archibald William Wolchock died in 1976 at age 78.

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Features

From painting and making bead necklaces as a teen – to nursing for most of her life – as well as writing a recipe column for the Jewish Post from 2010-2014, Francine Kurlandski has had a myriad of interests.

By BERNIE BELLAN We are often asked by readers why we profile so many ex-Winnipeggers.
“Aren’t there enough Winnipeggers with interesting stories to tell?” is what a lot of readers ask us.
The truth is that finding interesting people to write about is the easy part; finding writers who want to take the time to interview those interesting people though, and then turning that interview into a well-written article is the hard part.
When I was the publisher of this paper I generally shied away from doing exactly that kind of profile. It was time consuming and, knowing how fussy many individuals are about what’s written about them, I always felt an obligation to let the interview subject vet what I had written – even to make changes if they didn’t like how some things came out.
I started to record all my interviews – few as they might have been, and then transcribe them using a transcription service on my Mac computer.
But, for quite some time I had refrained from conducting any interviews. Then I was contacted by someone at the Jewish Post office in the Gwen Secter Centre who told me there was a very nice woman who was going to be visiting Winnipeg soon – and this particular woman thought that I might have an interest in interviewing her.
I was told that her name was Francine Kurlandski. “Why does that name sound so familiar?” I wondered to myself. With my curiosity whetted I phoned the number Francine had left with the Jewish Post and said to her, when she answered the phone, that her name was very familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite place her.
Francine answered: “Don’t you remember? I used to write a recipe column for the Jewish Post?”
It all came back. Of course, now I remembered, but didn’t Francine also have another name when she used to write for us? I asked.
“Yes, I was Francine Teller to start. Then, when I got remarried, I started using my new married name – Kurlandski.”
“But most of my friends in Winnipeg will remember me for my maiden name, which was Wise,” Francine added.
The daughter of Marion and Israel Wise and sister to Elaine, Francine, who was born in 1957, said she grew up in River Heights – at 756 Lanark to be specific. She attended, in order: John Dafoe, J. B . Mitchell, and then Grant Park.

Miss Israel 1974

Along the way, when she was 17 years old, Francine was also Miss Israel for the Israel Pavilion at Folklorama.

Francine had told me prior to the interview that her first career was as a nurse, so I asked her whether she had long had a desire to study nursing. Initially, she was unsure, but she says she “inherited the caring feeling that is so instrumental in nursing” from her father.
Israel Wise had a degree in social work, Francine said, and “worked for the province helping Indigenous people.” In addition, “he was also the youth director at the Shaarey ZedeK Synagouge and president of the General Monash branch of the Canadian Legion for veterans.” Francine’s mother, who worked for Technion Canada “also had a social service bent, so nursing was a natural fit,” Francine suggested.

Still, before eventually entering the Misericordia School of Nursing, Francine said her first love was art, a talent she now says “lay latent within her. “She recalls going downtown on weekends: “I remember going to the stores that had sold these little tiny beads – and that was so popular then. And I got into making beaded and feather necklaces.

“And then that led me into teaching myself how to do macrame, needle point and knitting. So, I loved all those crafty things. My parents had a cottage at Gimli. I remember loving to draw, and would go into the dock and sketch the boats and the birds. I loved all that.”

But, aside from her love of art, Francine found that enrolling in nursing school was a perfect fit for her. She remained a nurse until quite recently.
Francine was married at what we would now consider a very early age, when she was only 21. When she was 23 she and her then then husband moved to Toronto where Francine began “painting suede kippas with Sesame Street characters, also Ghostbusters, and I sold them to a couple of Jewish bookstores here.”
She began to study watercolouring in earnest, inspired, she said, by a trip she took to Israel where she saw the artists’ colony in Safed.

Francine noted that “once my children were in their teens, I had time to explore my painting. And that’s when I started a painting course from the city of. Toronto. I also connected with a group of artists in North York, and to this day, I belong to the Toronto Watercolor Society where I got to meet like-minded artists.”
Francine said she just recently retired from nursing after 45 years. The last 20 years of her career, she said, were spent working for another former Winnipegger, Dr. Rochelle Schwartz.

The mother of three sons, Francine explained that her home could be described as modern Orthodox. All three of her sons had the opportunity to study in Israel, she noted. Two of them studied at Yeshiva University while another one attended at Touro, in New York.
When the oldest was 18, she said, she took up painting more seriously.

I wondered though, about Francine’s cooking expertise. From where did that come?
“Was your mother a really good cook?” I asked.
“My whole extended family were good cooks, especially my late aunt, Karen Wise,” she answered.
In 1997, Francine noted, hospitals across Canada embarked on a downsizing campaign.
“I was on leave because I had a baby at that time. I really needed to bring in income. So, for extra income. I started to cook from my home… wholesome, nutritious food. I started a vegetarian food business, and did that for four years. And with that food business I thought I could teach cooking lessons, and write recipes for the paper.”

As a sidenote, I said to Francine that I didn’t remember when she actually wrote a cooking column for the Jewish Post, but when I checked our archives, it turned out that it was from 2010-14.
Francine’s food business lasted until 2003, until she began working for Rochelle Schwartz.
It was around that time that Francine started trying to enter some of her paintings in juried art shows. She continued to study art for a certain period with a private art teacher.
“Every course you take as an artist, you learn how to improve,” Francine observed.
“After I experimented with all kinds of different subjects I focused on portraits and Judaica art. I’ve always had a deep interest in the Jewish lifestyle.”
When it came to marketing her paintings though, once again Francine had to ” learn, even to put something on Instagram. It was all baby steps. And you’re doing this all by yourself. You don’t wanna hire someone to do it.”

Francine has had her art exhibited in many of the art society’s exhibitions and is working with Toronto’s United Jewish Appeal for a future showing.
You can imagine the excitement Francine must be feeling. If you want to see samples of Francine’s art you can check out her Instagram page. Just go to Instagram and look for @artistfrancine.

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Moe Levy reminisces about the late Izzy Asper

Izzy Asper and Moe Levy

By BERNIE BELLAN In March 2023 Moe Levy retired as executive director of the Asper Foundation, after 23 1/2 years in that position.

Moe Levy (photo taken by Morley Bernstein at the Remis Group luncheon May 22)


To that point Levy had been the only person to hold that position. In an April 2014 column about Levy I wrote about how he had come to fill that role. Prior to becoming executive director of the Asper Foundation, Levy had an extensive background in both the public and the private sectors.
After coming to Canada from his native Bombay, with a stop in Israel along the way, Levy entered university here, acquiring both a Bachelors and Masters in Business Administration from the University of Manitoba.
As I noted in my 2014 article, “Levy says that he began to work for the Manitoba government as soon as he graduated from university here. ‘I started off as a consultant, he explained. In two years ‘I created the first business incubator program in Canada,” he said with pride. ‘It was called ‘Enterprise Manitoba.’
“One of the programs that grew out of that particular initiative was something called ‘Business Start”,’which saw young entrepreneurs receive $5,000 grants from the government,’ ” Levy added.

Later, Levy was involved in various other enterprises, including joint ownership (with his brother) of what became two well known restaurants in Winnipeg (although both have since closed): Moskowitz and Moskowitz” (at the corner of Mayfair and Main), then Schmeckers (in St. James).
As I noted, however, Levy and his brother eventually sold the restaurants. “ ‘I couldn’t stand the restaurant business,’ Levy explained.”
In 1993, along with other investors, Moe bought a company known as the Northern Fur Exchange – which is where I first met Moe and his late wife Barbara (who was heavily involved in managing the company), when I went there to do a story about the business.
“But, by 1999, Levy says, he ‘wanted to take the company in a different direction than his partners, so he sold his interest to them and began to take stock of where he wanted to go
from there.
“ ‘I was 51 years old. I saw an ad in the Globe and Mail. It was an ad for a Jewish foundation (in Winnipeg). It didn’t say exactly which foundation. The ad was for an executive director for that foundation.’
“ ‘I threw my name into the hat,’ he said, without knowing that he was applying to be executive director of the Asper Foundation. Levy had met Izzy Asper only once before – in 1997, when Asper was in the process of endowing the Asper Centre for Entrepreneurship at the University of Manitoba. While the two men eventually forged a close relationship, it was as a result of Izzy’s sudden death in 2003 that Moe Levy found himself working hand-in-hand with Izzy’s daughter, Gail.
“While the Hebrew University was the major focus of the Asper family’s involvement in Israel for years, Gail paid tribute to the Asper Foundation’s work in Israel having ‘greatly expanded’ since Moe Levy became executive director of the Foundation,” I wrote in that 2014 article.

The late Izzy Asper

This past May 22, Moe Levy was the guest speaker for the Remis Luncheon group. His talk was advertised this way: “Moe will recount many compelling and funny stories of working with Izzy, one of Canada’s leading philanthropists and entrepreneurs. including the initial vision for the Canadian Mureum for Human Rights, the Asper School of Business, and many ground breaking projects in Winnipeg and Israel.”
Before he began his talk I asked Moe whether anything he was about to say would be off the record. He thought about it and replied that if he were going to say anything that he didn’t want recorded, he would let me know. As it was, he only thought of going off the record once – and even though he didn’t say: “This is off the record,” the fact that he even contemplated it led me not to repeat what he had said. (As you read on, you’ll find what it is that I withheld printing.)

Levy began by recalling sitting in Izzy Asper’s “beautiful back yard” one July evening in 2000. “He had just given away $50 million in the last 10 months. I started on September 1, 1999 and, in six months – $10 million to the Jewish Foundation, $10 million to the Winnipeg Foundation, $5 million to St. Boniface (Hospital), $5 million to the Hebrew U…”
“I had just come back from visiting the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles. Izzy’s passion for human rights goes back to 1973 when he tabled the first Bill of Rights in the Manitoba Legislature.” (Asper was leader of the Manitoba Liberal Party at the time. I remember interviewing him for a paper I was writing about the Manitoba Liberal Party.)
During the course of that evening, Levy said, Izzy broached the idea of building a human rights museum in Winnipeg. “Later that night, around midnight,” Levy continued, “the phone rang.”
“It has to be Izzy,” Moe’s wife (the late) Barbara said.
Picking up the phone, Levy observed that Izzy told him, “You know that idea we spoke about tonight? After you left, I went downtown and I found the land that we’re going to build this museum on…It’s the same site on which the museum is located today,” Levy noted.
“But,” Levy added, Izzy also told him: “It’s Tuesday night. By Friday I want you to get the land – to tie up the land.”
“But Izzy,” Levy said he asked Asper, “there are a lot of levels of government to go through.”
“Don’t worry,” Asper replied, “Just tell the guys I sent you and it’ll get done.”

Levy told a story about the first trip he took with Asper. It was on Asper’s private jet; they were flying to Toronto. As you might expect, if you knew anything about Izzy Asper, “the cabin was full of smoke.”
The purpose of the meeting was to meet with “two of the most important Zionist figures” in the history of Israel, Levy said: “Smoky Simon – who created the Israel Air Force; and Harry Horowitz” (who had deep roots in right wing Zionist causes, according to information on the World Zionist Organization website). Simon and Horowitz wanted “to get a million dollars for the Menachem Begin Centre.” (Incidentally Levy also mentioned that Horowitz had once come to Winnipeg at Sid Halpern’s invitation. Sid Halpern is a regular attendee at the Remis Grooup Luncheons and Levy was looking right at him when he made that remark.)
(What I find so contradictory about Izzy Asper, however, was that, as a supposed staunch defender of human rights, his actions belied the notion that he was a champion of human rights. Anyone who admired Menachem Begin, for instance, could hardly have been considered an advocate for human rights – unless by human rights you meant the rights of certain groups, but not others. Oh well, we’re all full of contradictions, aren’t we?)

Levy went on to describe his “life with Izzy as nothing short of amazing, exhilirating, exciting, such as “putting together the jazz series…” Apparently, according to Levy, Asper would go so far as to choose the playlist for any jazz concert performer (sounds like Trump), but “come Monday morning,” Levy said, “I would receive a memo from Izzy saying they did not play the playlist in the order I gave it to them!”
Also, according to Levy, Asper couldn’t just sit back and enjoy the jazz concerts. Instead, he would head up to the top of the Berney Theatre (home to the Asper Jazz Series) and “count the empty seats.”
Again, in addition to complaining about artists not following his playlist instructions, Asper would complain about empty seats in that same Monday morning memo. Since the concert series was invariably sold out in those years, any empty seat signified a subscriber not having shown up.
In that same memo Asper would complain, for instance, that “there were 17 empty seats. Those subscribers could have given their seats to someone else!”

The subject of Holocaust education was also something that was very important to Asper, Levy noted. “Izzy recognized very early on that we needed to reach not the Jewish kids, but the non-Jewish kids, so that over the course of time we’ve sent 14-15,000 kids on trips to Washington” (to visit the Holocaust Museum).

Another memorable incident which had a connection to Asper and in which Levy played a part, albeit a minor one, was “the Concordia riot” of 2002.
“Concordia” (University, in Montreal) ” was a hotbed for antsemitism,” Levy explained.
Along with Rabbi (Joshua) Poupkow, who was from Montreal, Levy and Asper decided (in September 2002) that it would be a good idea “to bring BB Netanyahu to Montreal to speak at Concordia. He (Netanyahu) was in between jobs, after serving as Finance Minister (of Israel), then Prime Minister, he was on the speakers’ circuit. So, we paid him …to come for three lectures: Montreal, Toronto, and Winnipeg.” (Levy wasn’t sure whether the exact amount Netanyahu paid should be published, so I won’t repeat the figure here. Suffice to say, it was a huge amount.)
“We knew that” the pro-Palestinians had as their aim that, “if Netanyahu shows up, he’s never, ever going to speak at Concordia. So this became a major challenge for Izzy. ‘I’m going to bring him here (Montreal) and I’m going to make sure he speaks,’ ” Levy said was what Asper wanted to do.
“Of course, BB always wanted to fly on a private jet, so Izzy – who had other things to do, told me to take his private jet and go pick up BB.”
“So I flew on Izzy’s private jet to pick up BB. I’ll never forget – his wallet was about this thick (and here Levy gestured with his fingers showing how thick Netanyahu’s wallet was) and it was full of thousand dollar bills,” Levy observed.
“Anyway, by this time, the press is full of stories – about how students are going to stop him from speaking,” Levy said. “So we land – and Netanyahu has one security guy with him and, I’m not kidding, he was about this high (gesturing to show that he was very short). But he had a lot of guns on him. I don’t know how many.”
“There are about 20 police cars waiting for us and they wouldn’t let the security guy off the airplane with the guns, so we sat while” diplomats negotiated how many guns the guard might be allowed to take with him and, in the end, “he was allowed to take one gun with him.”
As one might have expected, there was a huge crowd of demonstrators surrounding the hotel where Netanyahu was staying (the Ritz-Carlton).
Netanyahu though, was determined to speak at Concordia. However, his “security guy got on the phone with the Mossad in Israel and they said there was no frigging way they were going to let him speak. So his security guy told him he’s not going anywhere.
“But BB, all of a sudden, decides he wants a haircut. Someone tells him there’s an Arab barber in the basement. He was asked whether he was okay with that?”
He answered, “absolutely.”
Levy described the ensuing scene: There’s BB sitting in a chair, with this “Arab guy giving him a haircut,” while BB’s security guy has his hand resting over his jacket where his gun is – ready to spring into action if needed.
The upshot was that BB “was not allowed to speak.” A riot did take place at the Sir George Williams campus of Concordia University. Levy noted that there were two documentaries made about the riot, (one by the National Film Board, titled “Dicordia,” and the other by filmmaker Martin Himel, titled “Confrontation at Concordia.”)

Another story Levy told was about a meeting held between Asper and then-Prime Minister Jean Chretien to discuss federal funding for the Human Rights Museum. (Levy says the meeting was held at the Prime Minister’s residence in Ottawa, but every other source that I was able to check referred to a meeting at Izzy Asper’s Palm Beach residence, in 2001. Perhaps there were two meetings.)
In either event, Levy said that, as the only other person in the room during that meeting, he was fascinated with the notion that the most powerful man in Canada at the time, Jean Chretien – according to Maclean’s Magazine, was meeting with the second most powerful man, Izzy Asper, again – according to Maclean’s Magazine,
As Levy described it, “there’s these two guys, arguing over how much money” the federal goverment would be willing to commit to the building of the human rights museum. “There was something explicit going on between these two guys. I thought: ‘You two guys use that kind of language with each other?’ “

Asper always liked to dream, Levy noted. For example, where the skating rink now sits on the Asper Campus, “he wanted to build a 500 seat concert hall,” Levy said.
He told another story about a trip Izzy and Gail Asper took one day in 1999 to Steinbach, where they were supposed to meet with Chuck Loewen of Loewen Windows. The purpose was to hit up Loewen for a contribution to the Canadian Museum for Human Rights, which was still only a dream that Izzy wanted to bring to fruition at that point. Although one of Canada’s most successful businessmen by then – perhaps actually the most successful at that time, Izzy was not above doing the grunt work that was indispensable to raising enough money for the museum project – so that eventually the idea was that with enough privately donated money, it would leverage the federal government into contributing to the project as well.
Levy said that, while sitting in his oiffice, he got a call from Gail, who said, “Moe, we’re at Marion and Lagimodiere. How do we get to Steinbach?” It turned out they were in the wrong lane, but eventually, after much explaining which way to go, Izzy and Gail did make it to Steinbach, Levy observed.

Levy recalled the say he heard the news that Izzy had suffered a massive heart attack – and had died. “It was October 7, 2003, and we were on our way to Vancouver to launch an international architectural competition” for the design of the new museum.
Izzy Asper’s funeral was one of the largest ever held in Winnipeg. It attracted former prime ministers, the then-Prime Minister (Chretien), and a host of dignitaries from all walks of life. The day that Izzy died, Levy added, he was supposed to have received an honourary Indigenous title from Manitoba Grand Chief Phil Fontaine, which, translated into English, Levy explained, was “He who walks among the stars.”
Levy said: “What can I say about Izzy except that he was charismatic, a raconteur, bon vivant, had a great sense of humour, was an entertainer…he lived a hundred lives.”
Later in his talk, Levy added this about Izzy Asper: “He was the kind of guy who made you think you could accomplish anything. He made you sit there – and imagine and, before you knew it, you were doing things well beyond what you thought was your own capacity.”

In describing the effort that went into fundraising for the museum, Levy noted that “When you think about it, 75% of the money privately raised came from this little city (Winnipeg) – $115 million.” That fact was pivotal in then-Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s coming forward with a major contribution from the federal government: $100 million plus $21.7 million annually for operating costs.
Turning to Izzy Asper’s “passion for Israel,” Levy described Izzy’s support for the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, saying that Izzy was determined to undertake the human rights museum project without sacrificing any of his commitment to the State of Israel.
Levy noted that “in a month the Hebrew University is going to celebrate its hundredth anniversary. Who was there (at its founding)? Einstein, Freud, Buber – the greatest minds that ever lived,” he suggested.

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“Antisemitism from the Crusades to the Holocaust”

Lionel Steiman

Presented by LIONEL STEIMAN at the Lanny Remis Speakers Forum, May 8, 2025.

Lionel Steiman

One of the questions I wanted to answer in my course on the history of antisemitism was why culturally assimilated European Jews seemed blind to the rising tide of antisemitism during the years in which they had grown up? Of course they didn’t have the benefit of hindsight. They knew of the pogroms, of course, but they were in Russia, not in such sophisticated centres like Vienna, Prague, and Berlin, cities to which Jews from the east had flocked by the thousands, taking advantage of the opportunities offered during the rapid industrialization of the later nineteenth century. In Vienna they would eventually become the propertied and educated elites of the upper middle class. What they underestimated was the danger they faced from masses prone to the appeals of antisemitic demagogues.


The reason was that these Jews were the beneficiaries of what was called “Jewish emancipation,” the removal of age-old restrictions on Jews that had limited what they could do, where they could live, and much more. Emancipation facilitated the admission of Jews to society on terms of equality with other citizens. They were granted the right to vote, freedom of movement, access to education, and other areas from which they had been barred. France was the first country in Europe to emancipate its Jewish population, which it did during the French Revolution. Subsequently, the process of ‘Emancipation’ was launched everywhere in Europe except the Russian Empire, and by the later 19th century was relatively complete.
Emancipation had been the product of the so-called Enlightenment, when philosophers and rulers got the bright idea that Jews, whom they had regarded as scarcely human, would stop being Jews if only they were given an opportunity to be like everyone else. If they were given freedom, the right to vote, and access to other occupations than peddling and money-lending they would lose the negative characteristics associated with Jews. This Jewish ‘character’ was not considered a matter of ‘race’ or ‘blood’, but was seen as a product of the environment in which Jews were forced to live. But behind these novel ideas lay centuries of popular hatred and prejudice rooted in religion and superstition.

Wilhelm Marr – coined the term “Antisemite”

So it was almost inevitable that there would be a popular reaction against the emancipation of Jews, and attempts made to roll it back. Jewish entry into areas in which they’d never before been seen made people uneasy, to say the least. And because Jews in western Europe were abandoning their distinctive dress and manner, thus assimilating and becoming indistinguishable from non-Jews, their presence came to be feared all the more. Opponents of emancipation demanded the re-imposition of restraints and restrictions on Jews, many of which dated back centuries. They organized and gave themselves a name intended to distinguish themselves from the religious bigots they scorned. Their “The League of Antisemites”, was founded in 1878 by a journalist by the name of Wilhelm Marr.
The word ‘Antisemite’ was a totally new, totally invented word. But it had a scientific ring to it, as did so much else in this age of scientific progress. Antisemitism dissociated itself from the age-old anti-Jewish prejudices rooted in religion and legend, claiming instead to have a basis in science. The word ‘Semite’ was taken from the field of philology and referred to a grouping of languages, though soon it was referring to a category of people as well. And since Jews were the only “Semites” in Europe, it was they whom anti-Semites opposed. Soon, inflammatory antisemitic publicists and their products proliferated in various countries, most especially in France and Germany, the countries where ‘Emancipation’ had proceeded furthest, and needed to be rolled back. Meanwhile, beneficiaries of Emancipation dismissed antisemitism as a matter for the gutter, or for cynical politicians

Karl Lueger, Mayor of Vienna 1897-1910

The most prominent politician to exploit antisemitism before Hitler was Karl Lueger, the famous mayor of Vienna, who used it to woo the masses. During his tenure from 1897 to 1910, Vienna became the most advanced city in the world: public facilities such as gasworks, public transit, and housing were unmatched anywhere else. And nowhere else in Europe did Jews feel more secure. Lueger was a charming man; with Jewish friends, he was often seen attending Jewish marriages and bar mitzvahs. When the contradiction was pointed out, he replied, “I decide who’s a Jew.” Antisemitism was socially acceptable and taken for granted everywhere. After all, compared to Jews in Russia, with regular pogroms claiming hundreds of lives, Jews in Vienna, Prague, Paris, or Berlin were safe and could relax. They would never have dreamed of joining the hundreds of thousands of Jews fleeing Russia for America every year. In fact, they scorned them, and their Yiddish, which they regarded as a “jargon and not a language at all.

Pope Urban II – proclaimed the first Crusade


Nothing remotely like the Russian pogroms had occurred in the West since the First Crusade of 1095. Prior to that, the Jews of Europe had enjoyed relative peace and security. And because their value as physicians, merchants, and scholars were prized by rulers, Jews often enjoyed privileges later denied them. So why had everything changed in 1095, with the launch of the first Crusade, the armed campaign to secure recapture the Holy Land from Islam? When Pope Urban II proclaimed the Crusade he made clear there was no act more deserving of heavenly reward than to die on Crusade: to do so was assurance of immediate salvation. But when the first crusaders set out for the Holy Land, they asked themselves: “Why are we going all the way to the Jerusalem to defeat Christ’s Muslim enemies when the Jews who murdered him are right here among us?” So as the armies of French Knights set out for the East, they plundered and massacred age-old Jewish communities en route, and even made significant detours to do so. Some of the Jewish victims believed their suffering heralded the coming of the Messiah. Others thought the Pope had promised a blanket pardon to anyone who killed a Jew. Jews could save themselves by becoming Christian, and some were offered baptism. Such conversions were rare. Far more common was mass ritual suicide, or “Kiddush ha-Shem”, sanctification of the divine name.


Within a century, popular pressures moved the Pope to decide to legislate that Jews everywhere be required to wear some distinguishing mark. Specifics were left to individual countries. France required Jews to wear a yellow patch on their cloaks; Germany required a yellow, cone-shaped hat. To this day, ‘yellow’ has negative connotations, notably that of cowardice. The year of this legislation was 1215: from that point on, Jews are seldom depicted without such insignia, whether in art, sculpture, or other illustrations. This began a process that continued for centuries: the separation of the ‘image’ of the Jew from their human reality. The very word ‘Jew’ became a synonym for various undesirable qualities, triggering repugnance by its very mention.

This separation of the ‘image’ from the individual allowed Jew-hatred to flourish in the absence of Jewish people. In the mid-1970s a student of mine from Sioux Lookout told me that before he came to Winnipeg he thought that “Jew” was simply a word for crooked bargaining. The boy was himself no anti-Semite; he seemed totally open-minded, and eager to learn. I found that people with Jewish friends or a Jewish doctor or other professional could still hold antisemitic views simply because their prejudices were independent of their lived experience. A colleague from a town in the north of England told me that folks there seemed to have three categories of Jews: there were “powerful international Jewish financiers”; there were the Jews in the Bible- the “Israelites”; and there were Jewish shopkeepers, who were well liked but who didn’t affect their prejudices about “the Jews.”

Where did all this begin, this separation of “Jews” from the individual human beings they really were? We have to go back to the very beginning of Christianity, which began as a radical messianic sect of Jews, whose leader, a young rabbi called Jesus, was tried and executed by a Roman court under the authority of the Roman Governor. His followers believed he was the “Messiah” who would transform Israel. Their foremost missionary was Saul of Tarsus, much later known as St. Paul. Although Saul’s original mission was to persecute the followers of Jesus, he underwent a conversion “on the road to Damascus” and joined them. Paul’s sermons and letters became central books in what eventually became the New Testament. Because Greek was the common language of the eastern Mediterranean world, Saul became Paul, and “Messiah” became ‘Christos’. Soon Christians and Jews became ever deeper entrenched in an antagonistic relationship. Christians couldn’t understand why Jews refused to recognize the truth and accept Christ. Either they must be blind, or stupid. Since obviously they were neither, they must be evil. And so in the New Testament’s book of John they are “sons of the devil” and bound to do his work. (John 8:14) During the Holocaust, some people cited the passage from Matthew in which the Jews implicitly confess their guilt for the death of Christ: “His blood be upon us and our children” (Matthew 27:25).


Throughout the centuries that followed, Jews were depicted in various art forms as devil-like creatures, with horns and tails and cloven feet. Sculptures on churches and public places showed Jews with blindfolds signifying they were blind to truth. A particularly popular motif was the so-called “Judensau”, which depicted a rabbi lifting the tail of a huge pig to look for his Talmud, while other Jews gathered beneath the pig to suckle. Variations of the “Judensau” can still be found sculpted in public places in Europe. Then there was the so-called “foetor judaicus.”, the innate stench of the Jewish body. And it only got worse.

Image of the “devil-like” Jew


The Church Fathers who laid the theological and pastoral foundations of Christianity defined Jews as a threat to the moral and political foundations of Christendom, just as they were a threat to the soul of every individual Christian. Some Church Fathers accused Jews of killing Christ, thus making all Jews thereafter guilty of the crime of “Deicide”, killing God! Scores of other accusations against Jews proliferated. The logic was simple: for if you would kill the Savior, what else wouldn’t you do? Soon Jews were being accused of all manner of outlandish crimes: spreading plague by poisoning wells; killing Jewish children to use their blood in baking matzoh; and even drinking Jewish blood in their rituals. If you would believe what was patently impossible- since drinking blood was taboo for Jews, what wouldn’t you believe? And thus, reasoned one prominent historian of antisemitism, the road to Auschwitz was begun over a thousand years ago.

Mendel Beilis


Incidentally, the last “blood libel” trial was held in Kiev (then in the Russian Empire) Russia in 1913. The verdict was ambiguous: yes, the crime had indeed been committed, but the accused, Mendel Beilis, was not the murderer. Although both sides could claim victory, the trial helped perpetuate the myth of ritual murder: the killing of a Jewish child to use its blood to bake matzoh.
But if the “road to Auschwitz” was begun a thousand years ago, why wasn’t the attempt to exterminate Jewry also begun a thousand years ago? After all, in the 4th century C.E. Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire; the Romans made life difficult for Jews but made no attempt to kill them all. Why not? The answer lies with the greatest of the Church Fathers, St. Augustine (354-430). It is true, he wrote, that the Jews are guilty of the crime of Deicide, of killing the Savior. So they should be persecuted, but not too much; and they must be made to suffer, but not too much. And they should not live near Christians. Their suffering and eternal “wandering” would be proof of their guilt; and they would be living (if unwilling) witnesses to the truth of the Christian faith. This idea was repeated in variations by subsequent Popes, who in any case held out the possibility that Jews could avoid all this by converting. The Jewish communities of Europe, despite some ups and downs, were able to live relatively peaceful lives. Theirs was not an unbroken tale of suffering. But the myths, legends, and lies about them remained.


The attack on this hateful tradition began in the 18th century, the age of Enlightenment. The absurd notions of Jews having horns or drinking Christian blood now seemed out of place. Philosophers and intellectuals attacked all manner of superstitions including those that appeared to support Christianity. In attacking the Church these thinkers also attacked its beliefs that justified Jew-hatred. The further decline of religion in subsequent centuries occasioned by the rising prestige of science might have resulted in a decline of anti-Jewish prejudice, but instead the whole cluster of prejudice and superstition only found a more secure foundation in science.
Of course the word ‘science’ here must be qualified, for in the 19th and even part of the 20th centuries “science” included craniology, physiognomy, and eugenics. Today they are regarded as pseudo-sciences and historical curiosities, but prior to World War II they enjoyed a respect like that accorded to physics or any other exact science. Everywhere, “race” was accepted as a valid category for defining human groups, though its analytical usefulness was increasingly questioned until the term itself was discarded. By the 1880s Europe had completed its ranking of the world’s so-called “races” along a sliding scale. White, northern Europeans topped the list, which ranked other inhabitants according to skin colour, head-shape, physiognomy, and other physical characteristics, all of which were believed to denote the intellectual and moral qualities indicating a group’s level of ‘civilization. So where did Jews fit in? At first they were ranked simply as a sub-group of Europeans; one theory even had them at the apex of the white race; but antisemites attempted to find a scientific basis for excluding them. Since the Middle Ages, as was pointed out, Jews were believed to have a distinctly unpleasant odor, so there must be a scientific basis for it; but none was found. Researchers fanned out over Europe measuring skulls, noses, and other physical features thought to distinguish Jews from other white people. Was there a typical ‘Jewish nose’? One survey found the so-called Jewish nose was most prevalent in the Polish nobility. Research found no support for the popular belief that Jews were dark while gentiles were fair. Regional variations were such that many different ‘races existed within any given country. Wider research showed that Jews tended to resemble the populations in whose midst they resided.


In today’s “post-Truth” era we know too well that dangerous beliefs can persist despite overwhelming evidence against them. This is what happened with the cluster of beliefs encompassed in the term ‘antisemitism.’. The failure of science to support antisemitism or the notion of “race” did not stop people from believing that it did. Others recognized that science could provide little support to prejudice, so antisemites shifted their ground again: the essence of race, they argued, was in the blood—not in its physical elements but in elements which could not be measured, and whose power was therefore all the greater. By thus elevating ‘race’ to the level of ‘mystery’ late 19th century racists were merging prejudices based on religion with the emerging force of nationalism based on “race.” To the ancient belief that Jews were the enemies of Christ was added the modern belief that they posed a threat to the nation. Thus religious and racial antisemitism were strengthened by the most powerful political force ever to emerge, modern nationalism. And because Jews were a threat to race, which was the biological foundation of the nation, they were enemies of the state.

Alfred Dreyfus


The political force of this antisemitism showed itself in 1897 with the election of Karl Lueger as mayor of Vienna, who was mentioned earlier. The antisemitism that was such a powerful force in central Europe also ignited the worst political crisis in France since the French Revolution, the Dreyfus Affair. Raging at the very time Lueger was making Vienna the most advanced city in Europe, the Dreyfus Affair threatened to destroy the French Republic. Spreading far beyond the issue of the guilt or innocence of Alfred Dreyfus, the Jewish officer charged with treason, it polarized the nation between supporters of the Republic, and those who would restore the pillars of the old order: Monarchy, Church, and Aristocracy.
With the spread of industrialism and its threat to agrarian and village life, there was a heightened urgency to demands that the influence of Jews be curbed. The prominent role of Jews in finance capital and speculation earned them blame for the scandals and crashes that dogged the era. Jewish prominence in the free professions of medicine, law, journalism and publishing all increased Jewish vulnerability to various charges of malfeasance. Add to this the persistence of the blood libel, and public depiction of Jews as pigs, goats, and devils; the stereotypes of greedy, conniving Jews proliferating in literature and fairy tales everywhere—the list goes on and on. The reality is that antisemitism had come to permeate the intellectual and cultural life of Europe. Its assumptions were widely shared across the political spectrum; general distaste for Jews was fashionable in high society; blatant antisemitism was articulated at all levels of culture, and freely expressed from church pulpits and in parliaments- including those of Canada.


But what was it about antisemitism in Germany that made the country ripe for a rabidly obsessive anti-Semite like Adolf Hitler? Israel’s most respected Holocaust historian once commented: “If people had been told in 1914 that within one generation most of the Jews of Europe would be murdered, their answer would most certainly have been: The French are capable of any crime.” The reason for this comment was that France was by far the most prolific producer and disseminator of antisemitic literature, purveyed by some of its most respected writers and intellectuals across the political spectrum; it was the home of repeated outbursts of vicious Jew-hatred, most notorious of which was the Dreyfus Affair, the likes of which had never been seen in Germany. The name Edouard-Adolphe Drumont (1844-1917) is synonymous with French antisemitism. In 1886 he published La France Juive. Its Index listed not only prominent Jews but all prominent figures having anything to do with Jews, implicating thousands in what many already believed was an inevitable national degeneration. Drumont provided a list of “hidden Jews” who had been masquerading as Frenchmen. Since antisemitism permeated every element of French culture and politics, there was no need for a specifically anti-Semitic party or movement. Antisemitism was simply a constant in culture and society.

Germany was considered the safest country in Europe for Jews, and although antisemitism was certainly widespread, it hadn’t occasioned significant violence there since the revolutionary upheavals of 1848. So what happened? Why was the Holocaust “Made in Germany”? The answer is Adolf Hitler. There is a consensus amongst many historians: “No Hitler, No Holocaust.” Antisemitism was a necessary cause of the Holocaust, but it was not a sufficient cause. The Nazis were an insignificant bubble in the froth of discontent, for which people commonly blamed the Jews. In the years following World War I, Antisemitism was common currency in political discourse all over Europe. For Hitler, communism and capitalism were both Jewish conspiracies, and the major figures in both were all of them Jews, whether in Moscow or New York. During the 1920s, support for the Communists and Nazis grew, especially during the Great Depression. In 1932, 30% of the German labour force were unemployed, compared to 22.5% in the US and 24% in Canada. Even so, the Nazi victory was not inevitable. In late 1932 the party’s electoral support was declining. There were several other options available, and yet President Hindenburg chose to appoint Hitler Chancellor.
Hitler’s subsequent dismantling of German democracy is part of a complex political story involving far more than the antisemitism which was common everywhere. In any case, Hitler’s genocidal hatred of Jews was not wholly representative. Antisemites may have desired the exclusion of Jews, but not the annihilation of the Jewish people. While Hitler’s murderous fantasies were exceptional, he was able to gain control over the entire state apparatus necessary to realize them. And however extreme his views, their individual elements were available and accessible throughout the Christian West. Everywhere in Europe, the Nazis found accomplices in murder because their victims were Jews, everywhere the historical ‘other’. The Holocaust was the product of a pervasive antisemitism that, in the Nazi mind, placed the Jewish people outside the bounds of humanity, and marked them for extinction.

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