Features
These children of Jewish mobsters were kept well shielded from their fathers’ affairs
By BERNIE BELLAN
What’s it like growing up the child of a mobster – and a Jewish mobster to boot?
The idea of stringing together various stories about children of Jewish mobsters came to me as I started to read a terrific new book that was sent to our office, totally unexpectedly.
The title of the book is “The Apple and the Shady Tree”. The author is someone by the name of Lisa Novick Goldberg. The book is available on Amazon in either paperback or Kindle format.
There were a couple of ideas that kept crossing my mind as I read Lisa Novick Goldberg’s book. One was: Are criminals self-isolating during these extraordinary times? After all, they don’t adhere to society’s norms at the best of times. Why would they lower themselves to start following the same rules that should apply to everyone else? What would someone whose livelihood depends on providing others with something that’s illegal to begin with – such as drugs or other contraband, gambling, and prostitution, do when most of us are told to self-isolate?
I worry for those types of people. It must be even more difficult for them to get by than it is for the rest of us. Think Tony Soprano and his psychiatrist.
Secondly, as soon as I started to read this book, I thought to myself: We’ve had stories that are similar in nature written about in the pages of this paper before. In 2014 I wrote a review of a book titled “Davey the Punk”, which was written by a well-known Canadian musician by the name of Bob Bossin – whose father was Dave Bossin (or “Davey the Punk” as he was known to all his friends).
In 2017 Martin Zeilig wrote a fascinating story for us about someone named Al Smiley, who was best friends with Ben “Bugsy” Siegel. Smiley was actually a former Winnipegger and Martin interviewed his daughter, whose name is Luellen Smiley.
As well, in 2015 CBC Radio ran an interview conducted by Anna Maria Tremonti with Sandra Lansky following the publication of Sandra’s memoir of growing up the daughter of Meyer Lansky, who was known as “the brains of the Mob”. Sandra Lansky’s book is titled “Daughter of the King: Growing up in Gangland”. I haven’t actually read that book, but I have listened to the interview a couple of times. It remains one of the greatest interviews I ever heard Anna Maria Tremonti do. (It ranks up there with Jian Ghomeshi’s interview with Billy Bob Thornton as one of the most riveting pieces of radio I’ve ever heard.)
As a matter of fact, I’ve urged the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada to mount an exhibit on Jewish gangsters – in a departure from the standard custom of harkening back to a rose-coloured past that doesn’t shed much light on some of the more unsavoury aspects of Jewish life. Of course, if the JHCWC were actually to mount such an exhibit, whoever would be doing the research for it might not live long enough to see what comes of it.
I’ve also asked the organizers of Limmud whether I can present a talk at Limmud on Jewish mobsters – including many Russian oligarchs, but so far I haven’t been granted permission. Maybe next year I’ll be told to go ahead. There are a number of individuals I know who can provide me with first-hand information, some of whom are subscribers to this paper, yet whose identities must remain a secret.
But, to return to the original focus of this article: What’s it like to grow up the child of a gangster?
Here’s what Luellen Smiley, Bob Bossin, and Lisa Novick Goldberg had to say, in part:
From Martin Zeilig’s interview with Luellen Smiley: “Some children are silenced. The pretense is protection against people and events more powerful than them. As the daughter of Allen Smiley, associate and friend to Benjamin ‘Bugsy’ Siegel, I was raised in a family of secrets…
“When I was exposed to the truth by way of a book, I kept the secret, too. I was 13. My parents divorced, and five years later, my mother died. In 1966, I went to live with my father in Hollywood. I was forbidden to talk about our life: ‘Don’t discuss our family business with anyone, and listen very carefully to what I say from now on!’ But one night, he asked me to come into his room and he told me the story of the night Ben was murdered…
“After my father died, I remained silent, to avoid shame, embarrassment and questions. But 10 years later, in 1994, when I turned 40, I cracked the silence. I read every book in print – and out of print – about the Mafia. Allen Smiley was in dozens. He was a Russian Jew, a criminal, Bugsy’s right-hand man, a dope peddler, pimp, a racetrack tout. I held close the memory of a benevolent father, wise counselor, and a man who worshipped me.
“I made a Freedom of Information Act request and obtained his government files. The Immigration and Naturalization Service claimed he was one of the most dangerous criminals in the country. They said he was Benjamin Siegel’s assistant. They said he was poised to take over the rackets in Los Angeles. He didn’t; he sold out his interest in the Flamingo, and he went to Houston to strike oil…
“It seems there is no end to the stories surrounding Ben and Al. I am not looking for closure. I’ve become too attached to the story. To me, he was a benevolent father, a wise counsellor and a man who worshipped me.”
Here’s an excerpt from my review of “Davey the Punk”, about Bob Bossin’s father, Dave Bossin: “As well – as he explains during the course of the book, he had to piece together his father’s past – which was kept well-hidden from him as he was growing up, and which largely remained a mystery to him until he was well into his 40s, through a series of interviews he conducted with relatives, friends of his father, and other individuals who happened to have dealings with Davey.”
Finally, we have Lisa Novick Goldberg’s memoir of growing up in a Mob-connected household with her father, whose name was John (or, as he was known to his friends, “Jonny”) Novick. Actually, his real name was “Herbert”, Lisa explains, but his Italian gangster friends thought that Herbert wasn’t the kind of name that a gangster should have, so they told him to change it to Jonny. In another fun aside, Lisa says that her father’s mother couldn’t pronounce the name Herbert anyway; she always called him “Hoibert”! Now that wouldn’t have placed him in good stead with his mostly Italian underworld friends, would it have? Also, since almost every gangster mentioned in this book had a nickname (My favourite was “Johnny Eggs”, because his mother raised chickens on a farm), it’s hard not to look upon these guys –who would slit your throat without hesitation if need be, with a certain fondness.
As with Luellen Smiley and Bob Bossin, Lisa Novick claims she had no idea about her father’s sordid background when she was growing up. She does say that when he was home, which wasn’t very often, he was always on the phone – and she wondered what he was talking about, but you can hardly expect a kid to understand what it is that their father is doing to make a living when he takes great pains to keep it shrouded in mystery.
It wasn’t until Lisa was a young adult that she was able to learn the truth about her father. She was actually summoned to appear before a grand jury in New York when she was only 22 (in 1980). While she denied having any knowledge of her father’s connections to the Mafia (he was actually well connected to the Genovese family – one of the five “families” that make up New York’s Mafia underworld), Lisa admits that, by that time, she was pretty much aware that her father was immersed in a wide range of illegal activities.
John Novick’s ostensibly legitimate business was as the biggest supplier of soft pretzels in New York City, with all the major sports venues being his customers. As well, he had kiosks near subway stations throughout the city. Lisa gives quite a detailed explanation of how money is laundered through what appear to be legitimate businesses, yet in footnotes that she provides throughout the book, she explains that she had to research almost everything she describes by looking at FBI archives and court transcripts, as well as other books and articles about New York’s Mafia underworld.
Yet, even though Lisa did realize her father was earning his income illicitly – for the most part (she does relate a series of hilarious business ventures in which he was involved that all failed), she doesn’t judge him at all harshly. In fact, she admits that she was always much closer to her father than her mother, whom she describes as having a terrible temper and much less gregarious than her extremely popular father.
One other aspect of John Novick’s career as a criminal is that, unlike almost everyone of his Mafia cohorts, he was never indicted and never served any time in jail. Although he comes across as someone who succeeded in making money despite his own inability to properly organize his affairs, apparently he was so popular with almost everyone who was involved in illegal activities that he benefited from his close relationships to the point where he was able to count on the largesse of some of the most vicious criminals in New York City for over 50 years. He also had a fantastic ability to do complex math calculations quickly, which proved invaluable to him as a gambler, which was his favourite pastime.
John Novick died in 2014. He had a myriad of health conditions when he was admitted to hospital one year before his death, principle among them being severe obesity. He weighed over 300 pounds when he was first hospitalized but had shrunk to a mere 150 pounds by the time he died. Reading about his voracious eating habits is quite repelling, although fascinating at the same time. He could devour a four-pound lobster, followed by a streak drowning in butter, Lisa writes, topped off by everything that was on a dessert tray that was brought to his table.
But, what of these mobsters’ children’s connections to their Jewishness? In none of the three cases I’ve cited does being Jewish play much of a role in their childhoods, other than when it comes to food. Lisa Novick says that both her parents were not at all involved in Jewish life. They didn’t attend synagogue nor did they observe any of the Jewish holidays (although she does describe her father’s weird habit of fasting on Yom Kippur by staying in bed and doing nothing but watch television. That was his only nod to Jewish observance, she writes.)
As far as Sylvia Lansky goes, by the way, considering that her father was probably the most famous Jewish mobster of all time, what I remember best about her interview with Anna Maria Tremonti were some of her anecdotes about meeting famous celebrities. She tells the story of encountering Frank Sinatra in a New York restaurant one time when she was a little girl. Sinatra came over to the table where she was seated with her mother and father, but he accidentally knocked over the ice bucket that held a bottle of champagne directly on to her lap.
Sylvia describes how a look of mortal fear came into Sinatra’s eyes; clearly he thought that Meyer Lansky might order a hit on him right then and there. When Anna Maria asked Sylvia how she felt at that moment, I’ll always remember her answer: “I was cold.”
Sylvia also relates her own torrid love affair with Dean Martin. He could make love six times in one night, she recalls during the interview. Jews and Italians – joined at the hip, and often other places as well.
So – these were all spoiled children of men who made their money illegally – and none of them wondered where all the money was coming from. Is that unusual? I’m not so sure.
It’s one thing to not know what your father does for a living, but it’s another thing to see your house fill up with material goods – as was the case with all four of these mobsters’ children. Wouldn’t you wonder how your father was able to acquire so much “stuff” – and why were all their fathers so secretive about what they did?
I’ve barely mentioned the mothers of the children who grew up with mobster fathers. I suppose one can make a “deal with the devil” fairly easily if need be. There’s a lesson in here somewhere about how people can rationalize their behaviour. Yet, I’m sure you’re just like me in agreeing that reading about the family lives of mobsters – just as it was depicted on “The Sopranos” is noteworthy not for its excitement, but for the extreme pains criminals take to keep their lives as mundane as yours or mine.
Features
The Torah on a Lost Dog: Hashavat Aveidah in a Modern Canadian City
A neighbour’s dog wanders into your yard on a Wednesday morning in May, dragging a leash and looking confused. You have a choice. You can close the door and assume someone else will deal with it, call the city, or take a photo, knock on a few doors, and try to find out where he belongs.
For most people in Winnipeg and elsewhere in Canada, that choice plays out in a flash of moral instinct rather than reflection. The hand reaches for the phone and the walk around the block begins. The neighbour, if it goes well, is at the door before lunch. The decision feels minor, but it matters more than it looks.
In Jewish tradition, the act of returning a lost animal sits at the centre of one of the oldest practical commandments in the Torah. Deuteronomy 22, near the end of Parashat Ki Teitzei, contains a passage that has become the foundation for an entire body of Jewish ethical law: “If you see your fellow’s ox or sheep going astray, you shall not hide yourself from them; you shall surely bring them back.” The verse goes on to extend this duty beyond animals to any lost property. “So shall you do with every lost thing of your brother’s which he has lost and you have found.” Then comes the line that has occupied rabbis for two thousand years: “You may not hide yourself.”
The Hebrew name for this mitzvah is hashavat aveidah, the returning of a lost thing. It is one of the more practical commandments in a tradition full of practical commandments, and the rabbinic literature surrounding it is unusually thick.
A small commandment with big implications
The reason hashavat aveidah occupies so much rabbinic attention is that, on closer reading, it sets a high ethical bar. The Talmud, particularly the second chapter of tractate Bava Metzia known as Eilu Metziot, devotes pages to questions a modern reader would immediately recognize. How long must you wait for the owner to claim the item? How hard do you have to look for them? What if the animal needs feeding while you search? What expenses can you recover, and what counts as fair? What if the item is too inconvenient to safely return?
The rabbis answer all of these. The answers are not always intuitive. The finder is obligated to feed and shelter the animal while looking for the owner. The animal must not be put to work for the finder’s profit. The owner, when found, repays reasonable costs but is not on the hook for unreasonable ones. If the search takes too long, there are procedures for what to do next, none of which involve quietly keeping what is not yours.
Underneath the legal detail is a moral assumption that is easy to miss in a hurried reading. The Torah does not say to return the animal if it is convenient. It explicitly forbids the act of hiding yourself, of pretending you did not see, of crossing to the other side of the street. The commandment is as much about the person who finds as it is about the animal that is lost.
What this looks like in 2026
Most people who encounter a stray dog in a Winnipeg neighbourhood today are not thinking about Bava Metzia. They are thinking about whether the dog is friendly, whether they should call the City, whether they have time. The instinct to help is usually present. The question is what to do with it.
The practical infrastructure for hashavat aveidah in this country has changed considerably in the last decade. A finder in Winnipeg in 2026 has access to a regional humane society, a network of local Facebook groups, neighbourhood newsletters, and a handful of national platforms that gather sightings and missing-pet alerts across more than 180 Canadian cities. The mechanism is straightforward. A clear photo and a location pin can reach the right owner within hours when the system works, which it usually does.
The most underused of these resources, in any community, is the simple act of posting a sighting. Many people who find a stray feel they need to first catch the animal, find it food, take it home, or in some way solve the problem in full. The rabbis would actually disagree with that framing, and so does modern pet-recovery practice. The first responsibility is to make the sighting visible. The owner is almost certainly already looking. The finder’s main job is to surface what they have seen.
For people in Winnipeg looking for a place to start, a practical guide for what to do when you find a stray walks through the basic steps. Take a clear photo, note the cross-streets and time, check for a tag, and post the sighting where local owners will see it. The work is small. The effect, on the owner who has been awake for two nights and then sees a photo of their dog with a phone number underneath, is much larger than the work itself.
The ethical centre of the commandment
There is a strain of Jewish thought that reads hashavat aveidah as a kind of training in noticing. The deeper commandment goes beyond returning what is lost. It asks the finder to be the kind of person who sees what is lost in the first place, who does not cross to the other side of the street, who does not pretend not to have noticed.
That reading lines up with another Jewish ethical concept that often gets paired with this one: tza’ar ba’alei chayim, the obligation to prevent unnecessary suffering to animals. The Talmud derives this principle from several places in the Torah, including the rest commanded for animals on Shabbat. The two principles overlap in the case of a lost pet. The animal is suffering. The owner is suffering. The finder is, briefly, the only person in the position to do anything about it.
In a small way, the entire Canadian volunteer ecosystem around lost pets, from neighbourhood Facebook groups to national platforms to the dog walker who recognizes a posted photo, is an example of this ethical structure in action. People do not necessarily think of it in those terms. The framework is there anyway, doing its quiet work.
A community-scale point
Winnipeg’s Jewish community has always understood itself as a network of responsibilities to others, the kind that get described as chesed when they are visible and assumed when they are not. The work of returning a lost animal sits comfortably in that frame. It is not heroic, does not make the bulletin, and is exactly the kind of small obligation that knits a community together when nobody is paying attention.
The dog in the yard on a Wednesday morning in May, leash trailing, is one version of the question Deuteronomy asks. The answer, then and now, is the same. Do not hide yourself.
Features
Basketball: How has Israel become one of the best basketball countries in Europe in the last few years?
When Israeli Deni Avdija became the first Israeli to be drafted as the highest Israeli draftee in NBA history in 2020 – then emerged as a key NBA wing in Portland, it was not so much the breakthrough it appeared to be, but a portent of things to come. Israeli basketball development has been decades in the making, and in recent years its clubs have made Europe take notice.
This is why Maccabi Tel Aviv, Hapoel Tel Aviv, and the national basketball team of Israel are now the subjects of serious discussion in European basketball. It is only natural that fans and bettors reading form, depth of the roster, and momentum would look at our Euroleague predictions and then evaluate how Israeli teams would fit into the continental picture.
A rich history: The Maccabi Tel Aviv mythos
The contemporary narrative dates back to before Avdija. Maccabi Tel Aviv won its maiden European Cup in 1977, beating Mobilgirgi Varese and providing a nation under pressure with a sporting icon. Tal Brody’s declaration: “We are on the map” became not just a quote, it became a declaration of Jewish confidence, Israeli strength and a basketball dream.
Maccabi turned out to be the team of the nation since it bore Israeli identity past the borders. Maccabi has been a cultural ambassador before globalization transformed elite lists into multinational conundrums. Its yellow jerseys were the symbol of excellence, rebellion, and identification for the Israeli people at home and Jewish communities abroad.
The six European championships for the club provided a benchmark that has influenced the Winner League and Israeli basketball. Children were not just spectators of Maccabi, they dreamed of Europe as something accessible. Coaches studied in the continental competition. Sponsors and broadcasters realized that basketball had the potential to be the most exportable Israel team sport.
The modern pillars of Israeli basketball’s success
The recent ascendancy of Israel is no magic. It is the result of history, astute recruiting, youth-building and pressure-tested league culture. The nation has made its size its strength: clubs find talent at a young age and enhance the potential with foreign professionals.
Nurturing homegrown talent: The Deni Avdija effect
The most obvious example is that of Avdija. He was a high-ranking contributor in the system of Maccabi Tel Aviv, was chosen as a teenager, and was picked number 9 by Washington in the 2020 NBA Draft. His career was a reminder that an Israeli prospect could be more than a local star; he could be a lottery pick with two-way NBA potential.
Israeli NBA player Omri Casspi had already opened that door, and Avdija opened it even further for the next generation. Their achievements captivated the expectations of youthful players in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Holon, Herzliya, etc. An Israeli teenager is now able to envision a path from youth leagues to the Winner League, the EuroLeague, and ultimately – NBA minutes.
It is that dream that has been followed by investment. Israeli clubs put more emphasis on skills training, strength training, and analytics, as well as international youth tournaments. The success of the national program in the face of the best of Europe has also helped.
A global approach: The role of international and naturalized stars
The other pillar of the Israeli basketball program is the openness of Israel to global talent. The Winner League has been an important destination, not a stopover, for American guards and forwards. Most come in with NCAA or G league experience and become leaders due to the fact that the league requires scoring, speed and tactical flexibility.
It is enriched with naturalized players and Jewish players, who are able to use the Law of Return to come to Israel to play. Inspired by legendary players like Tal Brody, current imports who can bond both professionally and personally with Israelis have provided teams with uncharacteristic diversity in their rosters. The outcome has been a mixture of Israeli competitiveness, American shot making, Balkan toughness, and European spacing.
Making waves in Europe: Israel’s modern Euroleague footprint
Even in challenging seasons, Maccabi Tel Aviv has remained the flagship team. Currently, Maccabi is out of a playoff spot in the EuroLeague, but Hapoel Tel Aviv has shot up in playoff discussion. That juxtaposition speaks volumes: Israel is no longer represented by one lone, iconic club. Its profile has expanded.
Nevertheless, it is true that the reputation of Maccabi in the EuroLeague does count. Menora Mivtachim Arena in Tel Aviv is one of the most intimidating arenas for EuroLeague teams to play in: loud and emotional. Recent security and travel realities have affected the usual home-court advantage but the name of the club is still a potent brand.
It is the reason why there is an interesting betting discussion within Israeli teams. The name Maccabi still retains a historical impact, but analysts also need to quantify the present defensive performance, injuries, substitution of venues and guards, and fatigue in the schedule. The emergence of Hapoel has provided another Israeli point of reference and markets have to regard the nation as a multi-club force.
What’s next? The future of Israeli basketball on the world stage
Sustainability is the second test. The Israeli national basketball team desires more serious EuroBasket performances and a future world cup. It requires Avdija types – fit and powerful, more domestic big men, and guards capable of playing elite defense to get there.
The pipeline is an optimistic one. Israeli schools are more professional, teams are bolder with young talents, and the Winner League is a test ground where potential talents have to contend with older, tougher imports each week. Not all players will turn into an Avdija, yet additional players ought to be prepared to participate in EuroCup, EuroLeague, and even NBA games.
To the Jews in the Canadian diaspora, the impact is not only sporting, it is also emotional. Israeli basketball brings pride, drama and a common language to the continents. To the European fan, it provides tempo, creativity and unpredictability. To analysts, it provides a sign that a small nation, with memory, ambition and adaptation, can rise to become a true basketball power. Israel has ceased to be the unexpected guest on the table of Europe. It is a part of it, season after season.
Features
In recent years, we have been looking for something more than a house in Israel – we have been looking for a home
For many Jewish families in the diaspora, Israel has always been more than a destination. It is the land of tefillah, memory, family history and belonging. But in recent years, many families have begun asking a practical question too: should Israel also become a place where we have a home?
Not necessarily immediate aliyah. Sometimes it begins with a future option, something good to have just in case, or simply roots with a stronger connection to Eretz Yisroel.
But what does it mean?
A Jewish home is shaped not only by what is inside the front door, but by what surrounds it: neighbours, synagogues, schools, parks, local services, safe streets and the rhythm of Jewish life. For observant families, these are not small details. They are the things that turn a house into a place of belonging.
This is not a new idea. It is a need that has helped shape Jewish communities in Israel before. The Savyonim idea is rooted in the story of Savyon, the Israeli community established in the 1950s by South African Jews who wanted to create a green, safe and community-minded environment in Israel. It was a diaspora dream translated into life in the Jewish homeland.
That idea feels relevant again today. Many Jewish families abroad are now making plans around where they can feel connected in the years ahead.
Recent figures point in the same direction. Reports based on Israel’s Ministry of Finance data showed that foreign residents bought around 1,900 homes in Israel in 2024, about 50% more than the previous year, with Jerusalem emerging as the most popular place to buy. In January 2026, foreign residents still purchased 146 homes, broadly similar to January 2025, even as the wider housing market remained cautious.
For Lior David, International Sales & Marketing Manager at Africa Israel Residences, part of the continued interest may lie in the fact that today’s residential projects are increasingly built around the wider needs of Jewish families abroad: not only buying a property in Israel, but finding a setting that can support community, continuity and everyday Jewish life. That idea is reflected in Savyonim, the company’s residential concept, which places the surrounding environment at the heart of choosing a home.
This can be seen in Savyoney Givat Shmuel, where the surrounding environment includes synagogues, parks, educational institutions, local commerce, playgrounds and transport links, and in Savyoney Ramat Sharet in Jerusalem, located in one of the city’s established green neighbourhoods.
For families abroad, these things matter. Jerusalem and Givat Shmuel are never just another location. They are home to strong Jewish communities, established religious life and surroundings that allow a family to imagine not only buying property, but building a Jewish home in Israel.
Together, these projects reflect a broader understanding: that for many Jews in the diaspora, the decision to create a home in Israel is not only practical, but rooted in identity, continuity and community. The Savyonim story began with a Zionist community from abroad that succeeded in building a real home in Israel; today, that same vision continues in a contemporary form.