Features
Return to Ukraine: searching out the Rosner family past
Introduction: Not too long ago we were contacted by former CBC Manitoba managing editor Cecil Rosner, who asked us whether we’d be interested in publishing a story about a trip he took in 2012 to visit the area in Ukraine where both his parents were born. Although it’s been 10 years since Cecil visited Ukraine, given the current situation in that country we thought it timely to get a sense of what life was like in Ukraine prior to the Russian invasion.
By CECIL ROSNER ““Oi — look at the way the schlemiel drives.”
We are bouncing along the potholed roads of Western Ukraine, heading from Lviv to my mother’s hometown of Buczacz. Our driver and guide isn’t Jewish, but that doesn’t stop him from endlessly whistling Fiddler on the Roof tunes and inserting Yiddishisms into every second phrase.
“These guys are all ganefs (thieves),” he says of the policemen we pass, as he forms his thumb and forefinger into a pistol and slowly pulls the trigger. Alex doesn’t like the speed traps the highway patrols set up, and he appreciates oncoming drivers signalling him to beware of cops just beyond the next hill. It’s an important issue for our driver, who crisscrosses Ukraine’s roads all year-long, ferrying tourists to distant towns and villages in search of their Jewish ancestors.
For Alex, who holds a history degree and is an expert at tracing genealogical roots, it’s an occupation he never dreamed he would have. But in the chaos of the Soviet Union’s collapse, when jobs were evaporating and everyone was trying to reimagine their lives, it seemed like a useful niche to pursue – especially as foreigners were finally trying to discover exactly what had happened to their relatives during the Second World War.
That’s why I’m here too, along with my wife and a cousin. Both of my parents were born in the region, and both were here when the Nazis occupied the area in 1941. In different improbable and miraculous ways, they both survived the war and emigrated to Canada. But every single other family member was shot, gassed, beaten or starved to death by the Nazis and their collaborators. We came here to see what traces of their lives remained.
It seemed logical to make our first stop the local museum, right across from the old city hall. Buczacz is little more than a village, with about 13,000 people. In the early part of the 19th century, Jews made up two-thirds of the population. While that number ebbed and flowed over the years, Jews were still in the majority when the Nazi occupation began. But that would have been difficult to discern in the museum.
In all the display cases, and in the colourful photo album that the town produces, there is no specific mention of a Jewish population. There is scarcely any reference to the Second World War, except for a notation that the town “was released from German invaders and captured by the Soviet Union.” Wouldn’t a town’s museum want to address what became of the majority of the population? What happened to thousands of farmers, shop owners, tailors, tinsmiths, doctors, lawyers and politicians? Doesn’t the mass roundup and extermination of most people in town even rate a mention?
The only hint of any Jewish presence came in the form of artifacts from the life of Shmuel Agnon, a Jewish writer born in Buczacz who won the Nobel Prize for literature. But the entire fate of the people Agnon wrote about had been erased.
Alex had little luck getting the museum’s employee to throw any light on what the town was like in the immediate pre-war period. She genuinely seemed not to know. But there were a few things I already knew.
My mother, Mina, had been born here in 1913, and her family owned a wholesale distribution company. They carbonated water and stored it in big, forty-litre copper cylinders, shipping them along with ice to shops throughout the area. When she was 25, she married my father, Michael Rosner, who came from nearby Kolomaya. In 1939, they opened a small retail store on the main town square, probably within metres of the present-day museum.
When the war broke out in September 1939, there was a reprieve. The region came under the control of the Soviets, and Jews were under no immediate threat. All that changed when Hitler marched eastward in 1941. My father was conscripted by the retreating Soviets, and my mother was trapped behind Nazi lines for the remainder of the war.
For the next three years, every member of my mother’s family – her parents, five brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles and cousins – were dragged from their hiding places, bludgeoned or shot, or sent off to be executed. They were all dumped into unmarked graves. My parents’ first-born child – my brother – also fell victim, dying at the age of three in 1942.
My mother’s survival defied any normal odds. She fled from one hiding place to another, escaping just in time to avoid capture. She spent 11 months in the attic of a Polish family along with five other Jews. She took an assumed name and boldly convinced the Nazis she was Christian. Finally, after Buczacz was liberated, she re-united with my father and they came to Canada to start anew in 1948.
I had been to Buczacz once before, with my mother, in 1990. We came with a documentary crew to record her first visit back home since the war. It was an emotional trip and a difficult one for both of us. But we learned very little of the actual events that had transpired in the town, or the exact locations where they happened. That’s why, nearly 15 years after my mother’s death, I was returning for a second time.
I convinced Alex that our best strategy on this trip would be to find older people and ask them what they knew about the 30s and 40s. Alex seemed skeptical. For one thing, the war had begun more than 70 years ago, so it was unlikely there would be any useful first-hand witnesses at hand. And there was also the collective amnesia that pertained to inconvenient truths.
After all, a segment of the population had actively collaborated with Hitler. They were instrumental in helping identify and round up the Jews, the Communists, and all the other elements the Nazis wanted to destroy. Some might still be living in Buczacz and surrounding areas. Their children and grandchildren almost certainly are here.
The museum’s employee finally gives us a sliver of hope. There is someone in town we should visit – someone who knows the history and might be able to help us. His name is Mykola.
We drive for a few minutes and stop at Mykola’s house. I am expecting to find an elderly man who may have been a teenager during the war. Instead, we come upon a 40-something man in sweatpants and a Maple Leafs T-shirt. He is clutching a handful of papers and photographs. One of them shows a photo of Buczacz’s surviving Jews standing beside a memorial gravestone in 1944. Out of the original population of 10,000, no more than 100 survived. One of the people in the photo is my mother.
Mykola has taken an interest in wartime history, and now helps visiting tourists locate family remnants. He has a variety of interesting documents, including a map of pre-war street names, and a mid-19th century register of townsfolk. It turns out that he knows about some of the Jewish families that lived in Buczacz during the war – a handful of them have returned over the years, and he has helped them find their old homes and landmarks.
We ask Mykola if he could help solve a puzzle my mother and I couldn’t figure out on our previous trip. Her family had lived on a street called Zeblickevicie, which had changed names several times after the war. From her description, though, we knew it was beside a stream that ran into the Strypa River, a subsidiary of the Dniester.
We pile into the car along with Mykola and he directs us to the location. The stream had been covered over, except at the point where it emptied into the Strypa. Though the original home was no longer there, he shows us the exact location where my mother’s family had lived. I saw the idyllic surroundings, the lush vegetation around the quiet river, and for the first time I had an inkling of the peaceful life my mother experienced before the war changed everything.
While we were all walking along the old Zeblickevicie street, Mykola bumps into a friend and exchanges a few words with him. As we walk on, the friend stops my wife, Harriet, and our cousin Nina and says: “Mina Rosner – I am a Witness.” That is the name of my mother’s book. Alex is impatient. He had rich experience of locals trying to pester visitors, and he was eager to move us all along. But Harriet and Nina persist. It turns out the man on our chance encounter knows all about my mother’s story, and offers to take us on a tour of where she lived, where she went to school, where she hid during the war, and where her family members were killed.
Over the next 24 hours, Alex grudgingly admits he was wrong. Our serendipitous encounter has linked us up with Jura, a 60-year-old retired computer technician, astrologist and local historian. He knows my mother’s exact birthdate, and, it appears, everyone else’s in town. He has a photocopied version of my mother’s book, and he has pieced together her recollections with precise locations of many of the events she describes. If photographic memories actually exist, we figure he has one. He is a visiting tourist’s dream come true, and Alex has to take a back seat while Jura takes us on a remarkable tour of my mother’s life.
The first stop is just around the corner, on a street that used to be called Chechego Maya. I remember it from my mother’s stories, but we could never pinpoint it on our previous trip. Jura shows us the building where my mother’s sister and her husband ran a hardware shop. He knows the address because it’s listed in trade publications of the era. Though my mother’s original house and her parents’ store no longer existed, I finally had an authentic touchstone of some of her family’s life at the time.
Jura takes us to the pre-war building on Kolejowa Street that served as the cheder, the religious school, where Jewish kids studied. We visit the girls’ school and middle school where my mother was a student, and walk into Buczacz’s Sokol theatre, where she watched dramatic performances and movies as a teenager. A group of children is rehearsing a musical concert on stage, and I can imagine my mother sitting in the auditorium with her brothers and sisters and friends.
Just down the road, near an orchard, Jura shows us the garden of a long-ago demolished home where my mother hid during one of the Nazi aktions, or periodic killing sprees. A bunker had been constructed in the cellar, and this helped shield her and other Jews from capture. The Nazis conducted four major aktions during their occupation of Buczacz before declaring the town Judenrein, or completely free of Jews. But the declaration turned out to be false. My mother, along with dozens of others, managed to survive with the aid of courageous gentile families who risked their safety to shelter them.
In the middle of our travels, Jura pulls out a sheet of typewritten names – people who had served as policemen, gendarmes and SS officers during the war. I recognize some of the names. Some of the Nazi war criminals and their collaborators have been brought to justice, but the vast majority remain undetected and untried for their crimes.
We go to the Jewish cemetery, where many of the town’s Jews – including my mother’s parents – were taken to be executed. The place is untended and overgrown, a jumble of brush and junk, with headstones in various states of disrepair. We find my great-grandmother’s grave. It’s significant, because two plots over my mother buried her first-born child, Isaac, in an unmarked plot. I clear away the branches and debris from the group of headstones in the area to get a better view. I bend down and touch the ground where the brother I never met is buried. Exactly 70 years later, someone has come back to this place to remember.
Jura takes me down a path through brambles to a spot where survivors had erected a memorial to the war’s victims. The place is overgrown with trees and bushes now, but he says there was nothing here before the war. The marker no longer survives, and even if it did, it’s unlikely anyone would be able to find it without an expert guide.
Our next stop is Fedor Hill, another killing ground where thousands perished. It’s difficult to see traces of anything here, but Jura once again guides us to a marker commemorating the killing of 450 people during the early days of slaughter in 1941. It had been erected by a survivor’s family well after the war.
A far more prominent memorial on Fedor Hill is dedicated to the UPA, the Ukrainian Insurgent Army, the military wing of a movement that initially collaborated with the Nazis in hopes of winning an independent homeland. In fact, throughout our travels in Western Ukraine, there were numerous new memorials to Ukrainian nationalist fighters in places where it might have been logical to place markers noting the victims of the Nazi era. We saw this on the side of a synagogue in Ivano-Frankivsk, near the Jewish ghetto entrance in Lvov, and many other places. In my father’s hometown of Kolomyia, it was a similar story — no mention of Jews or Nazi victims in the local museum, no remnants of the huge Jewish population, and a patriotic memorial to Ukrainian nationalist figures on the site of a former synagogue. In the re-written history of today, the UPA and its related Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists are presented as groups that fought both Soviets and Nazis; no mention is made of the collaboration in 1941 that led to so much destruction during the war.
Throughout our trip to Ukraine, we were reminded of the upcoming election campaign and the ever-present imagery of Ukrainian nationalism, especially in the Western part of the country. In a land that was exercising its brand of democratic activity, we had to wonder how thoroughly the country had come to grips with its recent history. Many countries are wrestling with related questions, trying to reconcile horrendous events of the past with a way forward. But as in any process or truth and reconciliation, there needs to be an initial recognition of what took place. Erasing and denying the past is rarely the path to building a healthy future.
At the end of our tour in Buczacz, Jura wanted to know the exact date of my mother’s death. He also was interested in our birthdates and any other information he could glean from us. In a country that chooses to forget so much, he was something of an anomaly.
Features
The Dream of Zion: Judah Halevi’s Quest
By DAVID R. TOPPER Today the term Zionism is debased by otherwise liberal-thinking former-friends of Jews and Israel. This is a fact. Nonetheless, I don’t wish to pursue present-day politics and debates on the issues around this fact. Except to point out that the former-friends’ error stems from a lack of knowledge of the history of the region – by just focusing on recent events.
Accordingly, I wish to put Zionism into a deeper historical perspective by recalling that, ever since the Roman destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, the idea of returning to Zion was fundamental to the Jews of the Diaspora. Being indigenous to that region of the Middle East – hence going back thousands of years – Jews continued having a presence there – even after the Temple was razed.
Moreover, and in particular, my aim is to recall the story of one the major Zionists in Jewish history – Judah Halevi.
But perhaps it is best to start with this brief factoid. The Hebrew word צִיּוֹן (pronounced Tzee-yohn) has no unique meaning – ranging across fortress, desert, or monument – with its origin still being debated by scholars. One common use is for Mount Zion, a hill in Jerusalem. Close by is Mount Moriah, where King Solomon built the first Temple. In time, the term Zion came to be used for both hills together, and eventually for all of Jerusalem. Thus, the term Zionism refers to the idea of the exiled Jews (the Diaspora) returning to their indigenous homeland, centred at Jerusalem. Surely this was what Halevi believed, even though the word itself was not coined until 1890.
Judah Halevi (also Yahuda ha-Levi) was born in 1075 (alt 1080) probably in Toledo, Spain. This was during the so-called Golden Age of Jewish Culture there. The Jews in Islamic Spain were relatively free – unlike the Jews of central Europe, who suffered under the despotic rule of feudal lords. Highly educated, Judah became a physician, philosopher, mathematician, and poet. Today it is his poetry that has designated him as the greatest Hebrew poet. He died in 1141, probably at the age of 66.
He is often paired with Maimonides, considered the greatest Jewish thinker, who lived a generation later (born 1135). Both were physicians to the courts of the Caliphs in Spain.
Around the year 1120, probably about age 45, Halevi settled in Seville, married, and had one daughter. Another child also may have died. Much later, his wife died, probably after their daughter grew up and had children. With the loss of his wife, Judah grew restless. The Dream of Zion beckoned.
My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west—
How can I find savour in food? How shall it be sweet to me?
How shall I render my vows and my bonds, while yet
Zion lies beneath the fetter of Edom, and I in Arab chains?
A light thing would it seem to me to leave all the good things of Spain—
Seeing how precious in mine eyes to behold the dust of the desolate sanctuary.
This is one of a series of poems on this quest: called today The Songs of Zion, or the Zionides. His ultimate goal was to make aliyah to Jerusalem. To spend his final days there.
Zion! wilt thou not ask if peace be with thy captives
That seek thy peace—that are the remnants of thy flocks?
…
I would choose for my soul to pour itself out within that place
Where the spirit of God was outpoured upon your chosen.
…
I would fall, with my face upon the earth, and take delight
In thy stones and be tender to the dust.
…
Sweet would it be unto my soul to walk naked and barefoot
Upon the desolate ruins where the holiest dwellings were;
In the place of the Ark where it is hidden, and in the place
Of the cherubim which abode in the innermost recesses.
Sometime in 1140 he set out on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Taking a small ship through the Mediterranean, his mind was focused on the goal of being in Jerusalem.
Beautiful height! O joy! the whole world’s gladness!
O great King’s city, mountain blest!
My soul is yearning unto thee—is yearning
From the limits of the west.
…
And who shall grant me, on the wings of eagles,
To rise and seek thee through the years,
Until I mingle with the dust beloved,
The waters of my tears?
…
Shall I not to the very stones be tender?
Shall I not kiss them verily?
Shall not the earth upon my lips taste sweeter
Than honey unto me?
He, of course, also wrote poems about the sea voyage.
My God, break not the breakers of the sea,
Nor say Thou to the deep, ’Be dry’–
Until I thank Thy mercies, and I thank
The waves of the sea and the wind of the west;
Let them waft me to the place of the yoke of Thy love,
And bear far from me the Arab yoke.
There often were storms at sea.
Hath the flood come again and made the world a waste
So that one cannot see the face of the dry land,
And no man is there and no beast and no bird?
…
But only water and sky and ark,
And Leviathan making the abyss to boil,
So that one deems the deep to be hoary.
…
And the sea rages and my soul exults—
For the sanctuary of her God, she draws near.
It was a lonely trip. Thus, it’s not surprising to see him remember – and even dwell upon – the family that he left behind; especially, his daughter and her children.
Even so far that I can forsake her that went forth of my loins,
Sister of my soul—and she mine only one—
And I can forget her son, though it pierces my heart,
And I have nothing left but his memory for a symbol—
Fruit of my loins, child of my delight.
Yet, he remained focused on the goal – Zion.
But all this is a light thing when set against Thy love,
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
…
I cry to God with a melting heart and knees that smite together,
While anguish is in all loins,
On a day when the oarsmen are astonished at the deep,
When even the pilots find not their hands.
How shall I be otherwise, since I, on a ship’s deck,
Suspended between waters and heavens,
Am dancing and tossed about? —Yet this is but a light thing,
If I may but hold the festal dance in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem!
…
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who forms the mountain heights and created the wind.
The sea voyage ended in Alexandra, Egypt on Sept 8, 1140. He was welcomed by the large Jewish community there.
Praise, above all cities, be unto Egypt
Whither came first the word of God.
…
Fate has tossed me into the wilderness of Egypt:
Bid it carry me away and toss me yet again
Until I behold the wilderness of Judah.
Not surprisingly, while in Egypt he recalls Moses, whose name comes up in several poems. Here’s one.
My God, the wonder of Thee is astir from age to age:
And here is the Nile for witness, that Thou hast turned it into blood,
Not by magic …
But by Thy name, by the hand of Moses.
The Jews of Egypt begged him to stay. They must have been quite convincing – or, at least, they kept him occupied with things to do – because, despite his quest for Zion, he remained in Egypt until May 14, 1141, when he finally left – to resume his journey to Zion. (No matter how much I ponder this episode, I remain astonished that he stayed in Egypt over 8 months, especially since he was on the doorstep of Zion. It’s a fact that will ever bother me, and also remind me that no matter how much we may try – we can never really get into another’s mind.)
Can bodies of clay
Be prison-houses
For hearts bound fast
To eagles’ wings—
For a man life weary
Whose whole desire
Is to lay his face
In the chosen dust?
…
To cast Spain from him
And seek shores beyond;
…
To seek forgiveness
At the peaceful graves
Of the ark and the tablets
That are buried there.
It was an auspicious time to be in Palestine. From the fall of 1140 to the summer of 1141 was a period of relative peace and quiet. The land was governed as the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, which encompassed much of what today is the state of Israel. But, of course, Judah was a Jew, and Christian Crusaders had a notorious record of the indiscriminate slaughter of Jews in their wake as they were crossing Europe in their journey to liberate the Holy Land from the Muslims.
As fate would have it: Judah Halevi never got to test the relative peace of the Crusader Kingdom. How close he came to Jerusalem is unknown. All we know for sure is that he died on the way in 1141– probably in July or August.
The historian in me, therefore, expects me to end this story – right here. Done.
However, recalling all Judah went through, leaving his family, the storms at sea – the many, many Zionist poems, only a fraction of which I have quoted here – the Romantic side of me pleads that I bring up the legend that arose sometime after his death.
The legend says that Judah got as far as approaching the gates of Jerusalem. Then, while reciting his poem Ode to Zion – an Arab ran him through with a sword. In another version he was trampled by an Arab horseman. Hence, in either case, he fulfilled his dream of reaching Zion. But just reaching it. That’s all.
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon Your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
I wish it were so. I do. But, as with most legends – this one probably isn’t true. He may not even have come close to Jerusalem.
In the end – and interestingly enough – Judah’s plight seemed to be echoing what happened to Moses in his yearning to see the Promised Land. It was just a quest. Only an (unfulfilled) quest.
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who formed the mountain heights and created the wind.
* * *
For English translations of his poems, I used: Selected Poems of Jehudah Halevi, edited by Heinrich Brody, trans. from the Hebrew by Nina Salaman (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publications Society of America, 1974).
The biography that I have is: The Life and Time of Jehudah Halevi, by Rudolf Kayser, trans. from the German by Frank Gaynor (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949). Kayser, incidentally, is a son-in-law (by marriage) of Albert Einstein.
Features
Elizabeth Taylor’s Jewish connection
By HANNON BELL (Special to jewishpostandnews.ca. All photos from Hannon Bell’s personal collection) Elizabeth Taylor’s Jewish connection may not be well known by the general public, but it played a significant role in her personal life, as well as in her film career.
Mike Todd, Eddie Fisher and Liz’s conversion to Judaism
In 1957, Jewish producer and promotor Mike Todd (whose real name was Avrom Goldbogen) was captivated by a then-25-year-old actress, Elizabeth Taylor, who had already had a long film career, shooting to fame with her star role in “National Velvet” when she was only 12.
By the time Taylor met Todd she had already been married twice before – to hotel magnate Nicky Hilton and British actor Michael Wilding.
Todd though, swept Taylor, with his charm and they married in Mexico in February 1957.
The marriage was attended by Taylor’s parents, Francis and Sara, as well as Todd’s best friend, singer Eddie Fisher, along with Fisher’s wife, actress Debbie Reynolds.
Unfortunately, the union (of which Elizabeth Taylor has said that of all her eight marriages, the ones to Todd and Richard Burton were the most meaningful) didn’t last long as Mike Todd was killed in a plane crash only one month after they were married. He was en route to New York from Los Angeles to attend a Friars Club testimonial dinner in his honour when his plane crashed in New Mexico while it was trying to fly through a storm – killing all onboard.
Ironically, Elizabeth was spared as she had a bad cold and was advised against the trip and chose to stay home.
In her bereavement, she sought out Todd’s best friend, Eddie Fisher.
With both of them seeking understanding and love over the loss of his friend and her husband, feelings went from comfort to love for one another.
The tide had turned and the dutiful widow had now become known as a home wrecker, upsetting the boundaries of America’s perfect couple, Eddie Fisher and pert Debbie Reynolds.
Prior to this though, Elizabeth had begun exploring Judaism during her brief marriage to Mike Todd.
To navigate her through this journey of discovery, Elizabeth studied with Rabbi Max Nussbaum.
In 1959, Elizabeth Taylor and Eddie Fisher were married in a civil and a Jewish ceremony – thus cementing her conversion to Judaism. Here is a photo showing Elizabeth with the Katuba (Jewish marriage certificate).
Discussing her long standing dream of conversion and finally realizing it, Taylor said, “It has nothing to do with any marriage plans. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” she told reporters.
For her conversion Elizabeth adopted the Hebrew name Elisheba Rachel, thus beginning her long devotion to Jewish causes, education and charitable causes.
“Cleopatra”
In perhaps her most famous role, as Cleopatra – in the film of the same name, because of her strong support for Israel, Elizabeth Taylor was not allowed into Egypt in 1962, where the film was scheduled to be partially shot.
As well, Arab nations also banned the showing of any of her films as a result of her conversion to Judaism.
That didn’t matter to Taylor – she could’t have cared less.
Ironically, Egyptians themselves were not able to see the movie about perhaps the most famous Egyptian of all time!
Eventually though, all was forgiven when, in September 1979 – following the signing of a peace accord between Egypt and Israel earlier that year, actress Elizabeth Taylor and 11 Israelis were honoured guests at the Fourth Cairo international Film Festival, which also marked the ending of the cultural boycott of Israel by Egypt.
It was during the festival that Elizabeth Taylor had a sit down with Egyptian President Anwar Sadat – at the presidential rest house in the Suez Canal city of Ismailia.
Devotion to Israel and the Jewish people
In my Elizabeth Taylor collection of over 100 catalogued binders with over 20,000 photos I document many instances of her devotion to Israel and the Jewish people.
In August 1975 Elizabeth Taylor, along with her then husband Richard Burton visited Israel.
A very meaningful moment occurred when Taylor touched the Wailing Wall in silent meditation.
In June of 1976 Elizabeth Taylor was honoured by the American Jewish Congress as an artist and humanitarian for her work in founding The Israeli War Victims Fund after the 1973 Yom Kippur War.
She was presented with her citation by Israeli Ambassador Shimcha Dinitz. Also pictured in a photo at the event is the President of the Congress, Rabbi Arthur Hertzberg.
It was around the same time as that event when she attended a reception where she met with Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York.
Begin referred to Elizabeth Taylor as a “good friend.”
Was that on a personal level or as a strong supporter of Israel?
I tend to believe it was the latter.
In 1977 Elizabeth received the Women’s Division of B’nai Brith’s humanitarian award at a special luncheon held by the Antidefamation League at New York’s St. Regis Hotel.
In May of 1979 Elizabeth attended the Israeli Bonds Dinner in New York.
As of 1979, Elizabeth Taylor had visited the State of Israel five times.
Elizabeth Taylor in films that had Jewish connections
“Love is Better Than Ever”
During the making of 1952’s “Love is Better Than Ever,” Elizabeth Taylor had just annulled her first marriage to Hilton Hotel heir Nicky Hilton when she became involved with the Jewish director of the film, Stanley Donen.
Elizabeth’s mother Sara is reported to have been unhappy and objected to the alliance due to the fact that Donen was Jewish.
“Ivanhoe”
In the 1952 film “Ivanhoe,” Elizabeth played the Jewish character Rebecca. One of the themes the film documents is antisemitism among the Normans and Ivanhoe’s friendship with the wealthy Jew Isaac and his daughter Rebecca.
“Victory at Entebbe”
On December 13, 1976, the movie “Victory at Entebbe” was aired on television in the U.S. The movie was based on true events surrounding the hijacking of Air France Flight 139 by Palestinian terrorists. The flight had departed from Tel Aviv and was headed to Paris when hijackers forced it to divert to Entebbe Airport in Uganda.
The story was close to Elizabeth’s heart and she said she participated in her small role as Edra Vilnovsky in “Victory at Entebbe” for the sake of her fellow Jewish people.
In the film she and costar Kirk Douglas played the Jewish parents of a 16-year-old girl held hostage at Entebbe.
An interesting side note worth mentioning is that Kirk Douglas was supposed to be on the same plane as Mike Todd the night it crashed in 1958. Douglas’s wife Anne had a strange premonition Kirk shouldn’t go on that flight. Fortunately for Anne Douglas, she was right.
“Genocide”
“Genocide” was a 1981 film released by the Simon Wiesenthal Centre. Writing in the New York Times, reviewer Janet Maslin noted that “Miss Taylor, whose narration is particularly simple and affecting, reads letters from victims of the Nazis, farewell to friends and loved ones and horrifying accounts by first hand observers.”
A reviewer in Variety commented that “ Genocide gains its greatest force as a film via Elizabeth Taylor’s emotional voice over of personal testimony by witnesses to the Holocaust terrors.
“A moving performance by Taylor conveys in human terms about a sober rendering of mere facts and figures cannot”.
The Krupp Diamond
Here’s another irony to Elizabeth Taylor’s life: In 1968 Richard Burton bought the famous Krupp diamond as a gift for his then-wife, Elizabeth Taylor.
This 33.19 carat stone was owned by Vera Krupp, whose husband was a Nazi munitions magnate.
Taylor described the the acquisition thusly: “I think it fitting and charming that a nice little Jewish girl like me has ended up with the Baron’s rock.”
In closing
Elizabeth Taylor’s love and fierce dedication to Judaism is something to be admired as she put her heart and soul into the many Jewish causes she supported.
When Elizabeth Taylor passed away on March 23, 2011 she was buried as per Jewish ritual.
May her memory be a blessing
About the author:
Throughout his life Hannon Bell has had many interests and passions.
As an actor he has performed on stage, on film, and on radio.
As a singer and songwriter he has written over 26 songs and won two lyric awards from the American Song Festival.
As a model in his younger days he won a TV commercial award at the Modelling Association of America Convention and Competition in NYC. The award was given to him by Christie Brinkley.
But, more than anything Hannon Bell is probably best known as the owner of the world’s largest collection of Elizabeth Taylor memorabilia.
It all started when, as a teenager in 1963, Bell saw the film “Cleopatra.”
HIs passion turned into a lifelong dedication so much so that Bell is considered an expert on all things Elizabeth Taylor.
Having compiled and catalogued Taylor’s life and career in over 100 binders with over 20,000 photos and more, Bell has earned a reputation as not only a huge fan of Elizabeth Taylor, but also an expert on her life and career.
He has been consulted as a source by authors Kitty Kelly and C. David Heymann, both of whom have written biographies of Elizabeth Taylor.
Bell has been mentioned or featured in: People, Look, Scoop, the National Enquirer, Midnight Magazine, Toronto Star, Vancouver Sun, Winnipeg Tribune, Winnipeg Free Press and Winnipeg Sun.
He has written four songs about Elizabeth Taylor and, according to author C. David Heymann, was the inspiration for the naming of Passion Perfume in 1987. In a letter Taylor wrote to Bell in 1975, she asked him to send her two of his custom T Shirts that had on them the inscription: “HANNON’S PASSION – ELIZABETH TAYLOR.”
After working with Heymann on his biography of Taylor, titled “LIZ,” Hemanann sent Hannon a copy of the book with the signed inscription,”to Hannon, who has the finest Elizabeth Taylor collection in the world.”
Features
Previews of this year’s Fringe Festival shows that have some sort of Jewish connection (no matter how tenuous)
By BERNIE BELLAN (originally posted July 12, amended July 14 & 15) As has been our custom for many years now we try to find shows that have either Jewish performers, themes that would have particular appeal for Jewish audiences…or simply shows where someone contacted me and asked for a plug!
This year’s Fringe Festival runs from July 15-26. For show dates and venues go to winnipegfringe.com.
In no particular order here are blurbs about the shows we’ve found that fit our somewhat arbitrary criteria. (By they way, if we’ve omitted a show that should be included in our list there’s plenty of time to get added to this post. Just drop me a line at jewishp@mymts.net.)
One of the Fringe’s perennial favourites, Alli Perlov is back yet again making great fun of a very popular movie – in this case it’s “Toy Story.”
Here’s what the blurb in the progam says about her show:
Adam Schwartz first appeared at the Winnipeg Fringe Festival in 2013 – in a one-man show. Since then, Adam has gone on to appear in – and produce shows featuring other neurodiverse artists in succeeding years. Adam wrote us: “This summer I am shooting my comedy special. This is a project I’ve been working on for 16 years and I believe is the first Canadian autistic comedy special exploring life. It explores issues like early and late diagnosis, support workers as well as accommodation I have received.”
Another veteran performer on the Fringe circuit, Melanie Gall is returning for her 13th season at the Winnipeg Fringe Festival.
Randy Ross is also back this year. Here’s what Randy wrote us: “I’ll be back at the Winnipeg fringe in July with a new show, ‘How Much Can You Change for Someone You Love?’
Winnipegger Nicholas Rice is a veteran of the Winnipeg theatre scene. He has appeared in five Winnipeg Jewish Theatre productions over the years. This year will mark Nicholas’s second time appearing in a Winnipeg Fringe Festival show. His first appearance, two years ago, was in a show also called “A Side of Rice” but, in chatting with Nicholas he told me this new show,”Another Side of Rice,” will be completely different from that first show.
During the show, Nicholas said, he “will tell three different stories” from different parts of his life. The first story will relate an experience he had at Sir John Franklin School (which no longer exits). The second story will be about an experience Nicholas had while teaching in Toronto where, he says, one of his students, upon finding out Nicholas was Jewish, told him that he “would burn in hell.”
The third story will also be set in Toronto. The show will last 70 minutes, Nicholas added.
Rudi stands outside his father’s study in Paraguay, struggling to find the courage to go in. It’s been seven years since he left after uncovering the truth: that his father was a doctor at Auschwitz.
Haunted by a past he didn’t create but can’t escape, Rudi is forced to grapple with the legacy of his father’s crimes and search for a way to live with the weight of inherited guilt. Another tour-de-force script from acclaimed Canadian playwright Hannah Moscovitch, whose powerful and provocative work continues to captivate audiences worldwide.
On July 15 we received an email from someone by the name of Jillian Birdie Burke. Here’s part of what Burdie wrote: “My name is Birdie Burke, I am a Jewish artist and I’m one of the producers and performers of A Kid Napping, a new comedy is coming to the Winnipeg, Saskatoon, and Victoria Fringe Festivals this summer – from the same duo who brought you last year’s award-winning BRAIN.
“ Kid Napping follows two well-meaning but wildly incompetent ex-convicts whose kidnapping plan goes spectacularly wrong when they accidentally find themselves caring for a room full of kindergarteners.
“As part of the production, we’re also donating proceeds from our sales to local children’s organizations in each city we visit.
“For Winnipeg we’ll be focusing on Rossbrook Kids and the Rainbow Resources team.”
Okay – now here is where we start to get away from previewing Jewish performers, but I’ll explain in each case why I’ve included a particular show.
Safe Sex is a collection of three one-act plays written by Harvey Fierstein who is Jewish, but had said that “although he does not believe in God, he prays three or four times each day.”
“As one of the first openly gay celebrities in the United States, Fierstein helped turn gay and lesbian life into a viable subject for contemporary drama.”
Now, since Harvey Fierstein grew up in New York – a very Jewish city, when we were contacted by someone by the name of Charlie Hume who said he was an actor and producer with a company called Starr Street Productions – based in New York City, we had to ask him whether there was any Jewish connection?
Charlie replied: “Perhaps unfortunately, the show is written and performed by Catholics. I would say that our company’s greatest connection to Judaism is that we all studied together at The Lee Strasberg Theater and Film Institute. Lee Strasberg- if you’re not familiar- was a legendary Jewish acting coach who was instrumental in revolutionizing theater and the performing arts in New York City and beyond. We walk in the footsteps of Lee and many other Jewish cultural leaders, who have long been among the most steadfast supporters of the arts in America.”
Well, that’s good enough for me. Here’s a description of their play:
Finally – and this one really is a stretch – three days ago we were speaking to Reverend Don James, who is the National Development Director at Bridges for Peace (an organization that has close ties to our Jewish community) when Don happened to mention that his daughter, Hilary, is producing a Fringe show that has something to do with a Fleetwood Mac record album. (Apparently Don had never heard of “Rumors” because he didn’t know what the name of the album was. Oy!)
So I said to Don: “Have your daugher contact me and I’ll give her a blurb.” Well, she hasn’t contacted me yet, but I’m giving her a blurb – whether she wants one or not!
