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A new exhibit on Jewish delis explores the roots and rise of a uniquely American phenomenon
(New York Jewish Week) — It was a stupendously bad idea to arrive at the press preview for the New-York Historical Society’s new exhibit, “‘I’ll Have What She’s Having’: The Jewish Deli,” on an empty stomach.
The exhibit — which originated at the Skirball Center in Los Angeles and opens in New York on Friday, Nov. 11 — traces the mouthwatering history of the Jewish deli, beginning with the first waves of Ashkenazi Jewish immigrants in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. These new Americans created a “fusion food born of immigration,” according to the exhibit, adapting Eastern and Central European dishes like pastrami and knishes to meet Jewish dietary needs and serving them all under the same roof.
From there, the exhibit examines how delis evolved and, as Jews left cities for the suburbs in the mid-20th century, how they spread from coast to coast. Relying on a mix of archival materials, informative panels, interactive displays and more, “I’ll Have What She’s Having” seems uniquely designed to make visitors crave a pastrami sandwich.
(Sadly, while a tray of babka and rugelach were laid out for the opening, there is no actual pastrami available on site.)
It’s also, as Louise Mirrer, the president and CEO of the New-York Historical Society said in her opening remarks, “a trip down memory lane” for any native New Yorker.
Most of all, “I’ll Have What She’s Having” establishes the Jewish delicatessen as a uniquely American phenomenon. Writer Lara Rabinovitch, a curator of the exhibit who has a PhD in history and Jewish studies, said there were “important caveats” before she got involved in its creation. “If we’re going to do this exhibition, it cannot be grounded in nostalgia and kitsch,” she told me. “It has to be grounded in research, in archival research, and it has to take the Jewish deli as a part of the American landscape — not as a Jewish niche object of rarified Jewish pleasure.”
The now-shuttered Carnegie Delicatessen in New York in 2008. (Ei Katsumata/Alamy Stock Photo)
“Because, to me, and I fundamentally believe this, the Jewish deli is a part of American culture,” she added. “And it is something that all Americans take part in, in one way or another, whether it’s through pop culture, or through actually going to the Jewish deli, or working in Jewish deli.”
This Americanness is emphasized throughout the exhibit, which includes an area dedicated to Levy’s iconic “You Don’t Have to Be Jewish to Love Levy’s Real Jewish Rye” ad campaign and explanations of how many delis added a wider array of cuisines to attract more diverse customers. There’s also a focus on the deli in pop culture, which includes costumes from the deli scenes seen on the Amazon Prime hit “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.”
Fascinatingly, one thing the exhibit doesn’t do is define what a deli actually is. “We came up with it as a community, a place where people gather to eat Jewish food of one kind or another, but it’s always changing,” Rabinovich said. “I mean, we all know, in certain capacities, what a Jewish deli is. But it’s sort of like pornography — it doesn’t have a definition, but you know it when you see it.”
Case in point: This version of “I’ll Have What She’s Having” has an area dedicated to dairy restaurants — not something that most people would associate with the classic Jewish deli. (For those who keep kosher, delis and dairy restaurants must be kept as separate as the meat- and milk-based dishes that they serve.)
Other New York-centric details include an area dedicated to “Bagels Over Broadway,” examining the relationship between iconic eateries like the Carnegie Deli and Stage Delicatessen — both closed, alas — and the greater theater community. There’s also an area on delis in the outer boroughs, including Ben’s Best Kosher Delicatessen, which was a popular gathering place for Holocaust survivors in Rego Park, Queens.
Among the compelling artifacts on display are a bottle of Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray soda from 1930s; a meat grinder from the early 20th century for making kishke, salami and the like; and matchbooks from delis of yore.
Particularly notable is historical proof that New Yorkers did, in fact, listen to Katz’s Delicatessen’s famous slogan, “Send a Salami to Your Boy in the Army”: On display is a 1944 letter from Italy from Private Benjamin Segan to his fiancée in Manhattan. “I had some tasty Jewish dishes just like home,” he writes, describing how his mother had sent him a, yes, salami.
According to the New-York Historical Society, by the 1930s, there were an estimated 3,000 delis in the city — today, only about a dozen remain. One classic survivor is Katz’s — the setting for the famous “When Harry Met Sally” scene that inspired the title of the exhibit. Third-generation owner Jake Dell told me that “food, tradition-slash-nostalgia, and atmosphere,” are the reasons for his deli’s enduring appeal today.
Among the items on view: a uniform from the 2nd Avenue Deli, left, and costumes from the set of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.” (Lisa Keys)
Because, here in New York, especially, there are numerous options for deli delights, from the old-school classics to newer establishments like Frankel’s in Greenpoint. I remarked to Rabinovitch that there is something slightly incongruous about standing beneath the iconic 2nd Avenue Deli sign inside a museum. Here, its Hebraic letters are viewed as an artifact; meanwhile, while it’s no longer at its original Second Avenue location, we could still go there for lunch.
“You don’t have to go that far,” she pointed out. “You can go across the street to Nathan’s hot dog cart. And that is the Jewish deli, also. It’s literally a part of the American landscape. It’s part of the New York landscape. There is a trope, ‘Oh, the deli is dying, you can’t get a pastrami sandwich anywhere.’ We believe the deli is everywhere. It’s just how you think about it.”
As much as I loved this sentiment, I’m not really a street meat kind of person. It was a sunny, unseasonably warm morning, and I had a terrible urge to blow off the rest of the day, head to Katz’s for a pastrami sandwich and spend the afternoon wandering the Lower East Side.
But I had an article to write. So I hopped on a Citi Bike, headed to midtown, and picked up a bagel that I could hold one-handed as I wrote this story.
“‘I’ll Have What She’s Having’: The Jewish Deli” is on view at the New-York Historical Society, 170 Central Park West, beginning Friday, Nov. 11, 2022 through Sunday, April 2, 2023.
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The post A new exhibit on Jewish delis explores the roots and rise of a uniquely American phenomenon appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Loved ones remember two Jewish women killed in Midtown Manhattan mass shooting one year ago
One year after Blackstone executive and Jewish community leader Wesley LePatner was killed in a mass shooting in the lobby of her Midtown Manhattan office, her family is marking the yahrtzeit by launching a foundation in her name.
“What we are officially launching today is not just the start of a love letter to my amazing wife,” her husband, Evan LePatner, said in a statement. “We are building programs and a community that she would have led, nurtured, and inspired many others to join.”
The Wesley Mittman LePatner Foundation aims to cultivate 1,000 leaders in the coming decades through a mentorship program. The two-year leadership accelerator will connect fellows with mentors to hone their skills supporting nonprofit organizations and civic institutions, according to a press release. Sheryl Sandberg, the former COO of Facebook, is among the foundation’s supporters.
LePatner was shot and killed at age 43, along with Julia Hyman, a 27-year-old associate at the real estate company Rudin Management, who was also Jewish.
The gunman, identified as 27-year-old Shane Tamura, opened fire at a Park Avenue office building, killing four people before turning the gun on himself. Investigators said Tamura — who claimed in a note to suffer from CTE, the brain disease associated with repeated head trauma — had intended to target the office of the National Football League, but took the wrong elevator.
The foundation is one of several initiatives to honor the victims of the shooting. Earlier this year, UJA-Federation of New York — where LePatner was on the board — created the Wesley M. LePatner Emerging Leadership Award, which will honor a rising star on Wall Street who strives to make a positive difference.
Hyman’s friends organized a fundraiser for March Fourth, a nonprofit that aims to end mass shootings.
“Her smile lit up every room and her hugs could brighten even the worst days,” Megan Arden, a friend of Hyman’s who ran the New York City marathon in her honor, wrote in a statement. “There will be a hole in my heart forever.”
On Tuesday, Mayor Zohran Mamdani and Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch led a memorial service for NYPD Detective Didarul Islam, who was off-duty working as a security guard when he was shot and killed.
A new law, raising the minimum wage for private security officers to $22.20 an hour, also took effect on Tuesday in honor of security officer Aland Etienne, who was killed while trying to shut down the building’s elevators during the attack.
Jewish legacies
Both Hyman and LePatner were active members of the Jewish community.
LePatner was a board member of UJA-Federation of New York and the Abraham Joshua Heschel School. She won a Youth Enrichment Center Award from Park East Synagogue, and was involved in the founding of the Orthodox Altneu congregation on the Upper East Side.
She also received the Alan C. Greenberg Young Leadership Award at UJA’s annual Wall Street Dinner in 2023. In her acceptance speech, LePatner shared how, growing up, her parents always reminded her that she “was an American, but first and foremost Jewish.”
At LePatner’s funeral, her father, Lawrence Mittman, recalled how her passion for Judaism began early, studying Talmud the summer before starting college at Yale University.
Others recalled her love for the state of Israel, including a “solidarity mission” she led to the country in the wake of the Hamas-led Oct. 7 attacks on Israel.
“Israel is Wesley, and Wesley was Israel,” her husband, Evan LePatner, said at the funeral. “Small in size, insanely productive, wrangling with being religious and pragmatic all at once, inclusive of all who want to be inside the tent, fierce in the defense of its people.”
Hyman grew up in Manhattan and attended the Riverdale Country School in the Bronx. She went on to study hotel and restaurant administration at the Cornell Nolan School of Hotel Administration, where she graduated summa cum laude in 2020.
At Hyman’s funeral, former classmates of Hyman from Riverdale sang “Shalom Rav,” a song that a friend recalled the two had sung together at her bat mitzvah.
Rabbi Maurice Salth of Central spoke at the funeral about how Hyman “took a stand for Israel, and continued to do so during what has been a deeply challenging and demanding time.”
“Let us be careful about trying to make this tragedy feel better by saying such things as, ‘At least she went quickly,’ or, ‘At least we had her for 27 years,’” Salth added. “There is nothing that can make this tragedy better or logical.”
The post Loved ones remember two Jewish women killed in Midtown Manhattan mass shooting one year ago appeared first on The Forward.
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Shmuel Plavnik: A classic example of Jewish-Belarusian identity
מיט צוויי חדשים צוריק האָב איך געשריבן אינעם פֿאָרווערטס, אַז איך האָב צופֿעליק אַנטדעקט מאַגישע כּתבֿ־ידן אויף ווײַסרוסיש, אָנגעשריבן מיט ייִדישע אותיות. דאָס געפֿינס איז ממש אויף אַ מיסטישן אופֿן צונויפֿגעפֿאַלן מיטן 160־יאָריקן געבורט־יוביליי פֿונעם ייִדישן שרײַבער שמואל־נחום פּלאַווניק, באַקאַנט אויף רײַסיש ווי זמיטראָק ביאַדוליאַ.
פֿאַר וואָס איז דאָס אַ חידוש? אין 1921 האָט פּלאַווניק פֿאַרעפֿנטלעכט אַ קורצן אַרטיקל וועגן אַ ייִדישן כּתבֿ־יד, וווּ צווישן עטלעכע סגולות אויף לשון־קודש און ייִדיש טרעפֿט זיך אויך רײַסיש. ביז איצט האָבן די פֿאָרשער געמיינט, אַז יענער אַרטיקל איז פֿאַרלוירן געגאַנגען, און נאַט אײַך – אָט האָט ער זיך אָפּגעפֿונען, פּונקט צו פּלאַווניקס יוביליי!
סיאַרהיי שופּאַ, אַ ווײַסרוסישער שפּראַך־אַקטיוויסט, וועלכער קען גוט ייִדיש און האָט איבערגעזעצט אַ סך ווערק פֿון משה קולבאַקן אויף רײַסיש, האָט געלייענט וועגן מײַנע געפֿינסן, און האָט פֿאַרגליכן איינס פֿון זיי מיט יענעם, וואָס ס׳האָט אָנגעהויבן פֿאָרשן ביאַדוליאַ. ער האָט באַמערקט, אַז ער שטימט אין אַלע פּרטים מיט איינעם פֿון מײַנע. כ׳האָב צוערשט געמיינט, אַז דער כּתבֿ־יד איז טאַקע פֿאַרלוירן געגאַנגען; נישט געוווּסט, אַז ער געפֿינט זיך שוין לאַנג דיגיטאַליזירט, אָפֿענערהייט אין דער אינטערנעץ. באַקומט זיך, אַז איך בין פּלוצעם געוואָרן זמיטראָק ביאַדוליאַס אַ ממשיך־דרך.
אַ געבוירענער דעם 23סטן אַפּריל אינעם דערפֿל פּאַסאַדזעץ אויף צפֿון פֿון מינסק (הײַנט וווינען דאָרט אַרום 150 תּושבֿים), האָט זיך שמואל פּלאַווניק פֿון קינדווײַז אָן געפֿילט היימיש סײַ אין דער ייִדישער קולטור פֿון זײַן היים, סײַ אין דער אַרומיקער קולטור פֿון די רײַסישע פּויערים. אין זײַנע ווערק באַטאָנט ער, אַז אַזוי איז געווען דער דורות־לאַנגער שטייגער פֿון אַ סך ייִדן אין רײַסן.
ס׳איז כּדאַי דאָ צו באַמערקן, אַז ווי באַלד דער אַלטער ייִדישער נאָמען פֿון בעלאַרוס איז רײַסן, להיפּוך צום פֿאַרעלטערטן דײַטשישן וואָרט „ווײַסרוסלאַנד‟, איז בעסער הײַנט אויף ייִדיש צו רופֿן די שפּראַך רײַסיש, הגם אין דער סאָוועטישער נאָמענקלאַטור איז אָנגענומען „ווײַסרוסיש‟. „בעלאַרוסיש‟ קלינגט, דאַכט זיך מיר, איבעריק, ווײַל בײַ ייִדן איז שוין במשך פֿון דורות פֿאַראַן אַן אייגן וואָרט פֿאַרן דאָזיקן סלאַווישן לשון.
פּלאַווניק האָט געלערנט אין אַ חדר און אַ ישיבֿה; בײַ זײַן זיידן, דעם אָרטיקן אײַזן־ און קופּער־שמיד, איז געווען די איינציקע ביבליאָטעק אינעם דאָרף, וווּ לעבן דער גמרא זענען אויף דער פּאָליצע געשטאַנען ביכער וועגן מאַטעמאַטיק און מעטאַלורגיע.
מיט זײַן טאַטן האָט ער זיך אָפֿט פֿאַרנומען מיט געהילץ־אַרבעט אין וועלדער. דערפֿאַר איז פֿאַר אים די וואַלדישע נאַטור פֿון רײַסן אויך געווען פֿון קינדווײַז אָן היימיש. זײַנע ערשטע דערציילונגען אויף ייִדיש און העברעיִש זענען געווען געווידמעט דער שווערער מי פֿון געהילץ־אַרבעטער. דערנאָך האָט ער זיך באַקענט מיט דער רײַסיש־שפּראַכיקער פּרעסע, וועלכער האָט דעמאָלט ערשט אָנגעהויבן זיך אַנטוויקלען. פֿון 1910 אָן האָט ער זיך כּמעט אין גאַנצן אָפּגעגעבן מיט רײַסיש אונטערן פּסעוודאָנים זמיטראָק ביאַדוליאַ. אַ ייִד און אַ ווײַסרוס מיט אַ טאָפּלטער עטנישער אידענטיטעט, האָט ער איבערגעזעצט פֿון ייִדיש אויף רײַסיש שלום־עליכמס ראָמאַן „מאָטל פּייסי דעם חזנס‟ און שמואל גאָדינערס ראָמאַן „דער מענטש מיט דער ביקס‟. גאָדינער איז געווען זײַנער אַ לאַנדסמאַן, אַ ווײַסרוסישער ייִד.
ווען די נאַציס זענען אָנגעפֿאַלן אויפֿן ראַטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, האָט דער שרײַבער זיך עוואַקויִרט פֿון מינסק. דעם 3טן נאָוועמבער 1941, איז ער געשטאָרבן פֿון אַ האַרץ־אַטאַק צו 55 יאָר.
ביאַדוליאַ האָט איבערגעלאָזט אַ גרויסע ליטעראַרישע ירושה: לידער, דערציילונגען, בתוכם גאַנץ לאַנגע און דעם ראָמאַן „יאַזעפּ קרושינסקי‟. אין 1932 האָט ער בשותּפֿות מיט נחום רובינשטיינען אַרויסגעגעבן אונטער זײַן אמתן נאָמען, שמואל־נחום פּלאַווניק, דאָס ערשטע ווײַסרוסיש־ייִדישע ווערטערבוך, וואָס מע קען הײַנט געפֿינען אין דער אינטערנעץ.
זײַן מיינונג וועגן די באַציִונגען צווישן ייִדן און ווײַסרוסן אין רײַסן האָט ער אויסגעדריקט אין זײַן אַרטיקל וועגן דעם מאַגישן כּתבֿ־יד, ווי אויך אין אַ צאָל שפּעטערדיקע עסייען. ער האָט געהאַלטן, אַז אין פֿאַרגלײַך מיט די אַנדערע פֿעלקער פֿון מיזרח־אייראָפּע, האָבן די רײַסישע ייִדן געלעבט באַזונדערס נאָענט צו זייערע סלאַווישע שכנים, אָנגעהאַלטן מיט זיי פֿרײַנדלעכע באַציִונגען, גערעדט אויף זייער שפּראַך, געזונגען אייגענע לידער אויף רײַסיש. ממילא, האָבן זיי אויך אָפּגעלערנט אַזעלכע ענינים, ווי שפּרוכן קעגן וועלף און שלאַנגען.
ס׳זענען פֿאַראַן אַ סך אַנדערע סימנים, אַז אַזוי איז טאַקע געווען. בײַ די ליובאַוויטשער חסידים זענען פֿאַראַן עטלעכע ניגונים אויף רײַסיש, און אין די זכרונות פֿונעם זעקסטן ליובאַוויטשער רבין, יוסף־יצחק שניאורסאָן, ווערן דערמאָנט סלאַוויש־שפּראַכיקע דאָרפֿישע ייִדן, וואָס האָבן קוים געקענט ייִדיש. אין דער אמתן, שטעלן זײַנע „זכרונות‟ מיט זיך פֿאָר חסידישע מעשׂיות, ליטעראַריש באַאַרבעטע דורכן שרײַבער און זשורנאַליסט דוד־לייב מעקלער. פֿון דעסט וועגן, איז דאָס גאָר אַן אוצר. נאָך פֿריִער האָט דער פֿילאָסאָף שלמה מײַמון דערמאָנט אַזעלכע טיפּן ייִדן אין זײַנע טיף פּערזענלעכע, מײַסטעריש אָנגעשריבענע דײַטשיש־שפּראַכיקע מעמואַרן.
בײַ רײַסישע ייִדן איז פֿאַראַן אַן אויסדרוק: „האַלב טײַטש, פּאָלאָווינאַ רײַסיש‟. פּאָלאָווינאַ מיינט אויף רײַסיש און רוסיש אַ האַלב. ער טרעפֿט זיך בײַם דיכטער יהודה־לייב גאָרדאָן, בײַ מענדעלע, אין שלום־עליכמס אַ קריטישן עסיי וועגן ייִדן אין אַמעריקע, אין נחום סטוטשקאָפֿס „אוצר‟ און אַנדערע קוואַלן. אַזוי רופֿט מען דאָס שפּראַך־געמישעכץ, וואָס איז געווען פֿאַרשפּרייט בײַ שטעלטדיקע און בפֿרט בײַ דאָרפֿישע ייִדן און רײַסן.
עס קאָן זײַן, אַז דווקא צוליב אַזאַ פֿאַרשפּרייטער צוויי־שפּראַכיקייט האָבן געוויסע ייִדן געפֿירט גאַנצע זשורנאַלן פֿון סלאַווישע שפּרוכן, פֿאַרשרײַבנדיק זיי מיטן ייִדישן אַלף־בית. פֿון אַנ־סקיס עקספּעדיציעס ווייסן מיר, אַז אין אוקראַיִנע פֿלעגן ייִדישע פֿאָלקס־רופֿאים, געוויינטלעך פֿרויען, אָפּשפּרעכן אויף אוקראַיִניש, נאָר קיין אַלטע שריפֿטלעכע באַווײַזן דערפֿון האָב איך דערווײַל נישט געפֿונען. שאַפֿט זיך דער אײַנדרוק, אַז בײַ אַ סך ווײַסרוסישע ייִדן איז די שפּראַך פֿון זייערע שכנים טאַקע געווען זייער צווייט מאַמע־לשון.
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Our greatest folksinger wrote about America, Dust Bowl refugees and Jewish identity
Woody Guthrie is best known as one of the giants of 20th-century American folk music. From the late 1930s through the early 1950s, he wrote thousands of songs, many of which became modern-day standards, including “So Long, It’s Been Good to Know Yuh,” “I Ain’t Got No Home,” “Tom Joad,” “Hard Travelin’,” “Pastures of Plenty,” and, of course, “This Land Is Your Land.” His songs gave voice to working people and Dust Bowl refugees. He wrote playful children’s songs and songs that railed against fascism and greed. He even wrote a protest song called “Old Man Trump,” about developer Fred Trump, the father of the current president of the United States, decrying the strict racial segregation he enforced in his housing projects.
Guthrie’s influence on generations of singer-songwriters cannot be overstated. His songs have been recorded by hundreds of singers around the world, including Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Bruce Springsteen, Lucinda Williams, Ani DiFranco, Lou Reed, Sweet Honey in the Rock, Lila Downs, and Susan McKeown. The desire to meet Woody Guthrie, who was his hero, is what led Robert Allen Zimmerman to hitchhike from Minneapolis to New York City, where he subsequently fell upon the thriving Greenwich Village folk scene and reinvented himself as a rootsy singer-songwriter named Bob Dylan. The latter’s eponymous first album included an original song entitled “Song to Woody.”
As Steven Pressman makes clear in his new documentary film, Dust Bowls and Jewish Souls: Another Side of Woody Guthrie, there was another side to Guthrie and his songs. As his son, Arlo Guthrie, explains in the film: “My father studied Judaism and he knew something about it. He never exchanged his faith for something else; he added to his faith. And that something else he added … was a Jewish identity. He understood what that meant traditionally, historically, culturally. And he knew more about Judaism than my zeyde. And so, my bubbe was thrilled.”
It just so happens that Arlo’s bubbe — his grandmother — was acclaimed Yiddish poet and lyricist Aliza Greenblatt. When Guthrie married Aliza’s daughter, Marjorie Mazia (née Greenblatt), the two chose to raise their children in Coney Island, and Marjorie’s parents, Aliza and Isadore Greenblatt, moved from Philadelphia to be close to their expanding brood. And it was primarily through his close relationship with his mother-in-law that Guthrie became knowledgeable about and enamored of Jewish history and culture. Says Arlo, “My father saw something inside the Jewish tradition that inspired him.”
Pressman’s documentary traces the close links between Aliza Greenblatt and Woody Guthrie. “My father and my bubbe had a respect for each other as writers, as thinkers, as people of the heart,” says Arlo. Arlo’s sister, Nora Guthrie, echoes her brother’s comments: “Bubbe would share ideas and lyrics with Woody. So, they were able to form a relationship.” Nora’s daughter, Anna Canoni — seen in the film at the Guthrie family plot in a cemetery in Woody’s hometown of Okemah, Oklahoma — elaborates on the special relationship between her grandfather and great-grandmother: “Aliza and Woody were actually interestingly similar in terms of a hardship and displacement that happens at a young age. There were so many interesting parallels between the two of them, which is why there was so much understanding, empathy and love between the two of them.”
While Aliza Greenblatt took to Woody right away, her husband Isadore was not thrilled about his daughter marrying a Gentile. He did, however, give Guthrie a gift of a Hebrew-English version of the rabbinical text called Pirkei Avot (The Ethics of the Fathers). In the film, Nora Guthrie displays the book, which is filled with Woody’s notes and annotations — even drawings. Woody provided the cover illustration for one of Aliza’s poetry volumes.
The film includes interviews with dozens of people who either knew Woody Guthrie and Aliza Greenblatt or who became familiar with their story. Among them are Guthrie biographer Will Kaufman, who has written three books about the folksinger. Kaufman suggests that Woody and Aliza bonded over being artists and socialists. “[Woody] would have seen in Aliza and Isadore kindred spirits politically,” says Kaufman. “[As refugees], Woody would have seen in them a real fellowship with the Dust Bowl refugees that he had been championing….”
A who’s who of contemporary Yiddish musicians, including vocalist Eleanor Reissa, singer-songwriter Daniel Kahn, and Lorin Sklamberg, cofounder and lead vocalist of the Klezmatics, are among those who pay tribute to them and are heard performing Guthrie and Greenblatt songs. Kahn says, “[Woody] was a staunch anti-Nazi, which makes him Jewish in the most important ways to me.” When the U.S. became involved in the Second World War, Guthrie signed on with the Merchant Marine, and he was overseas for nearly two years. What he experienced there found its way into songs like “You Fascists Bound to Lose,” “Mister Hitler,” and “Ilsa Koch,” about the so-called beast of Buchenwald. In it he sang,
I’m here in Buchenwald.
My number’s on my skin….
The guards have shot a man.
Some more have starved to death.
Here comes the prisoner’s car.
They dump them in the pen.
They load them down the chute.
The trooper cracks their skulls.
He steals their teeth of gold.
He shoves them on the belt.
He swings that furnace door.
He slides their corpses in.
I see the chimney smoke.
I see their ashes hauled.
I see their bones in piles.
Lamp shades are made from skins.
Old Ilsy Koch was jailed.
Old Ilsy Koch went free.
The song was brought to life when Nora Guthrie, president of the Woody Guthrie Foundation, gave the Klezmatics a sheaf of lyrics with Jewish themes that Guthrie never put to music or recorded. The modern klezmer group released two albums worth of these songs in 2006, including “Wonder Wheel,” which garnered the group a Grammy Award, the only klezmer group ever to have received such honor. The album also included their version of the song “Mermaid’s Avenue,” a tribute to the very Jewish Coney Island neighborhood where the Guthries lived. The song even includes the Yiddish word meydele:
Mermaid Avenue that’s the street
Where the lox and bagels meet…
Where the prettiest of the meydeles
Leave their legprints in that sand….
Where the smokefish meets the pretzel
Where the borscht sounds like the seas….
The film also recounts the relationship between Guthrie and Moses “Moe” Asch, a Jewish-Polish immigrant whose father was Sholem Asch, the great Yiddish novelist and playwright. Moe Asch had a recording studio and record label based in New York City. In addition to recording and releasing many Guthrie songs, Asch encouraged Guthrie’s Jewish education and helped steer him to write songs with Jewish content, such as “The Many and the Few,” which retold the story of the Jews. The song was “basically the entire story of Hanukkah set up as an Appalachian ballad,” says Lorin Sklamberg, who recorded it with the Klezmatics on their album “Woody Guthrie’s Happy Joyous Hanukkah.”
Woody Guthrie died in 1967. His ashes were scattered at the beach in Coney Island. “For a guy from Oklahoma, that was pretty unique,” says Arlo Guthrie. Aliza Greenblatt died in 1975 at the age of 87. With Pressman’s Dust Bowls and Jewish Souls: Another Side of Woody Guthrie, their common legacy is now cemented for all time.
Dust Bowls and Jewish Souls: Another Side of Woody Guthrie will screen at the Nashville Jewish Film Festival (Aug. 18), Circle Cinema in Tulsa (Aug. 20) and the Yiddish Book Center — where Marjorie Mazia Guthrie was a board member — in Amherst, Mass., on Sept. 27.
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