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After I stopped an attack on the subway, the victim and I bonded over Katz’s pastrami sandwiches
(New York Jewish Week) — You definitely don’t want to have what she was having at that moment.
It was December, on a Friday. I was in the tunnel that leads to the subway that runs beneath the American Museum of Natural History on West 81st St. Walking just ahead of me were two women, chatting with each other. I didn’t know them, but I watched as a man, disheveled and bearded, wearing a black knit cap with a sparkly “NYC” on it, came from the other direction. He veered a little too close to the taller of the two. Suddenly, he shifted and grabbed her from behind.
I often wondered what I would do in this situation. Standing only steps away, I no longer had to wonder. After a moment’s hesitation, I sprang into action, grabbing the man and pulling him off her. Then the woman, her friend and I hightailed it through the turnstiles. All in a New York minute.
The woman said she was OK, just worried her attacker would hurt other women. I called 911 but the operator could only speak in subway platforms, not quite grasping it occurred under the museum. How could a visitor be expected to explain the location? And why was there no attendant or police patrol in one of New York’s most visited neighborhoods? I happen to be getting a PhD in tourism studies at Purdue University, but it’s a no-brainer how bad that is for visitors and locals alike.
The 20th Precinct and Transit District 1 responding officers were polite but seemed focused on whether the attack was sexual. Later, the woman would tell me she sensed they thought nothing actually happened, despite a clear crime. “I don’t know,” she said, “one moment I’m walking in the subway and the next someone grabs me from behind. But I wind up OK, so there’s no problem?”
They nabbed the guy, holding him against the tiled wall in the very place the attack occurred. One officer said something like, “He has no ID, no nothing. He’s babbling to himself and doesn’t seem to know where he is.” A sense of pity rose in all of us. The woman did not want to press charges. Even the police were sympathetic, expressing how helping the mentally ill is beyond their capacity. The consensus seemed to be that they would take him somewhere for mental help.
As we waited for the train — mine to Washington Heights, the women’s to Queens — we realized we all had just come from the New-York Historical Society’s “I’ll Have What She’s Having” exhibit on Jewish delis, named for the iconic Katz’s Delicatessen scene in the 1989 film “When Harry Met Sally.” We laughed about what struck us as an ironic way to spend a Friday Shabbat evening days before Hanukkah.
Still perhaps cautious of our surroundings, we shared thoughts about the exhibit. For instance, the surprising amount of Los Angeles material and the signage explaining terms someone Jewish or from New York might take for granted — like mohel or mikvah — and Yiddish words that have long entered the local vernacular, no matter your religion.
The woman who was attacked didn’t want to be identified here, saying “I don’t want people to Google me and this is the first thing they see” — something I understand, having myself been a crime victim in 2014. Later, she texted to say she arrived home safely, adding that, despite the attack, she was “grateful to live in New York, because you restore my faith that people are there for each other.” I don’t think of myself as a mensch or hero. I just did what had to be done. And, like I said, I had a moment’s hesitation.
The situation called for dinner plans. A Jewish deli, of course, considering the circumstances. And it had to be Katz’s.
I arrived at the deli, laden down with a few free Chabad menorahs I picked up along the way after coming from the Union Square Holiday Market. I almost rushed past her standing outside the restaurant, worried about being late. We encountered a chaotic, noisy scene inside, and I realized I had not been there since before the pandemic. A man behind us in the haphazard line, there for the first time, nervously wanted advice. Have what we’re having, I suggested: pastrami on rye with mustard. No cheese, a kosher nod in this place long without such restrictions.
If fate’s bad luck brought us together, serendipity now ruled. Our sandwich maker looked familiar, and I realized he appeared in a video at the deli exhibit. As Esteban pushed our sandwiches over the glass divider, the famous table from the fake orgasm scene in “When Harry Met Sally” suddenly emptied, a family bundling up to leave. I ran to grab it, even mid-sentence talking with Esteban about the exhibit.
Yes, it was touristy! But considering what we had encountered only days before, it was a relief to feel like a tourist in a crowd of tourists. There were locals too, of course, like a diminutive old couple, smiling and saying hello to select tables. We asked a gorgeous Greek tourist we at first thought was an influencer — her dress a one-of-a-kind, hair in flowing, pop queen curls — to snap our picture.
We talked for hours about jobs, travel, family, the men in our lives and how there is no city like New York, with its museums and culture and its ethnic and religious diversity. The ultimate way to say “to life,” l’chaim.
Crime impacts everyone differently, especially when it happens to you. Yet I also know the city is vastly safer than when I was young. At 54, I remember the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s, when murders peaked at something like six a day.
If I learned anything from the subway experience, it is that our time on earth is a gift more precious than anything we might unwrap on Hanukkah or Christmas. And if anyone saw us sitting at that famous Katz’s table wondering why we laughed so much, they should ask to have what we were having: a profound appreciation that, like the sandwiches in front of us, life is delicious and should be enjoyed in big portions, despite what fate throws at us.
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He was a shy, retiring, Jewish record store manager. How did he come to manage the world’s biggest rock band?
Mr. Moonlight: Brian Epstein and the Making of The Beatles
By Philip Norman
Da Capo, $32.50, 368 pages
Brian Epstein was a most unlikely candidate to discover the Beatles playing in a subterranean music club in Liverpool and manage them toward becoming the biggest pop-rock band in the universe. The somewhat shy and retiring record store manager and classical music aficionado was convinced by an employee to join him during a lunch break to walk over from his family-owned NEMS record shop to the Cavern Club, where he stood out for his age (he was 27; the group’s oldest musician, John Lennon, was 21 and the crowd consisted largely of teenagers), his outfit (a formal suit and tie), and his mature deportment.
But despite being a fish out of water in the grungy club and with no experience working with musicians, within just a few weeks of getting to know the members of the Fab Four, Epstein signed them to a management deal for the purposes of getting them gigs, attracting a record deal, and freeing the foursome from business and logistical concerns. Along the way, Epstein cleaned them up, convincing them to trade their leather outfits for suits and ties, to all cut their hair in the same bowl-cut style that garnered them the nickname “mop-tops,” and to stop eating, smoking and cursing out the audience while performing.
Who was this character, and why did the Beatles put their trust in him?
The 5th or 6th Beatle
Brian Samuel Epstein was born on Sept 19, 1934, which happened to be Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year, when Jews traditionally fast and spend the day in synagogue in an annual ritual of atonement. In some small but significant way, atonement would prove to be one of the themes of Epstein’s short, enigmatic life.
Brian’s paternal grandfather, Isaac Epstein, emigrated from Lithuania to Manchester, England, in 1894. He eventually moved to Liverpool, where he opened a furniture shop. The family expanded the business by taking over a nearby shop called North End Music Stores, which became the famous NEMS chain of furniture and record stores. Paul McCartney’s father once bought a piano from NEMS, and teenage Paul — along with his pals John Lennon and George Harrison — often went to NEMS to hear the latest pop and rock ‘n’ roll records from America.
Isaac Epstein’s son Harry married a woman named Malka Hyman (hence her nickname, “Queenie,” as “Malka” is Hebrew for queen), and the two became “prominent and popular members of the largest Jewish community outside London.” Brian and his younger brother Clive were raised in a household that kept a kosher kitchen and had weekly Shabbat dinners.
After briefly attending RADA, the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, in London, where he had hopes of becoming an actor, Brian Epstein returned to Liverpool and went to work for his father, managing the NEMS record outlet.
As Beatles biographer Philip Norman recounts in Mr. Moonlight: Brian Epstein and the Making of the Beatles, Brian led something of a double life from a young age. He was gay at a time when engaging in homosexual activity was against the law as well as frowned upon socially. Epstein lived his gay life mostly in the shadows, attracted as he was to anonymous trysts with “rough trade,” which could and often did wind up with him getting into trouble with the law as well as being beaten up, robbed, or blackmailed. To make things worse, Epstein was a heavy drug user and drinker who combined alcohol and sleeping pills, and he was hospitalized several times for depression and drug abuse.
Nevertheless, Epstein steered the Beatles to fame and fortune, first in England, then in America, and then all around the world. He was tenacious in trying to score them a record deal in London. Bringing them to the attention of Parlophone staff producer George Martin proved to be auspicious. Although Martin had previously specialized in recording comedy records, he saw something in the Fab Four (who, at least in their early years, were something of a comic group — or at least John Lennon fancied them as such) that was distinctive and showed promise. Martin convinced the upper brass at EMI, which owned Parlophone, to take a flyer on the group. The pairing of Martin and the Beatles would prove as significant as anything Epstein did for them, and when talking about “who was the fifth Beatle?” the only honest answer is both Epstein and Martin (or one was the fifth and the other the sixth — take your pick). Martin’s influence on the Beatles’ musical development and his support of their more experimental tendencies in the recording studio would prove to be an essential ingredient in their magical mixture.
A genteel and not-so-genteel antisemitism
In early 1963, a Jewish Londoner named Helen Shapiro was one of the biggest pop stars in England. Epstein got the Beatles attached to a nationwide tour headlined by Shapiro, which wound up laying the groundwork that would evolve into the full-fledged Beatlemania that would erupt by the end of the year. By early 1964, Epstein convinced American TV variety host Ed Sullivan to have the Beatles appear as guests on his weekly program for three consecutive weeks, lighting the fire of Beatlemania in the U.S., on their way to total domination of the world’s airwaves.
Epstein also worked with Jewish-American concert promoter Sid Bernstein to get the Beatles booked at Carnegie Hall in New York City and later at Shea Stadium, for two massive concerts in 1965 and 1966. In the meantime, Epstein hooked up the Beatles with Dick James (born Isaac Vapnick) for the purposes of creating Northern Songs, a publishing company for their original compositions. Epstein also midwifed the Beatles entrance into moviemaking, making a deal with United Artists to make several films, including A Hard Day’s Night and Help!, both directed by American-born filmmaker Richard Lester (born Richard Lester Liebman). Lester, like George Martin, had previously worked with Spike Milligan and Peter Sellers, two of the Beatles’ favorite comedians.
For Epstein, it was not always smooth sailing. It was a time when a kind of genteel (and not-so-genteel) antisemitism permeated British life and culture, a time when the words “Jewboy” and “Yid” came tripping off the tongue. When Paul McCartney told his father that the Beatles were thinking of partnering with Brian Epstein, pere McCartney replied, “Jews are good with money,” leaving it to our imagination if this betrayed antisemitism or was meant as a compliment.
Even with his commercial and financial success, Epstein found certain doors closed to him. According to Norman, “As a permanent London base, [Epstein] favored the city’s two most exclusive neighborhoods, Knightsbridge and Belgravia, but for him, as he well knew, it wouldn’t be just a question of studying an estate agent’s brochure and requesting a viewing. Antisemitism flourished nowhere more vigorously than among those elegant white squares, many of whose ritzier apartment blocks made clear without stating explicitly they did not welcome Jews.” Brian recounted the anti-Jewish taunting he fell victim to in school in his memoir, writing, “even now [antisemitism] lurks around the corner in some guise or other.”
The godfather
No one was crueler to Epstein about being Jewish and gay than John Lennon, who, although perhaps best known for singing about peace and love, could be violent and cruel to those closest to him. Norman writes that Lennon treated Brian “abominably, at one minute sarcastically over-reverential, at the next blisteringly rude to his face about his clothes, his hair, his accent, his sexuality, even his religion.” When Epstein hired Tony Barrow to be the Beatles’ press agent, Lennon asked him (with Epstein within earshot), “If you’re not Jewish and you’re not queer, what are you doing working for Brian?” And when Epstein asked the band members what he should call his memoir, Lennon replied, “Queer Jew.”
Nevertheless, when Cynthia Lennon gave birth to Julian, the Lennons asked Epstein to be the boy’s godfather. And immediately following Julian’s birth, Lennon and Epstein went on holiday together for two weeks in Spain, where it has long been assumed the two of them had sexual relations of some sort.
When the Beatles decided to retire from touring in 1966, Epstein was left wondering what remained for him to do for them, since so much of his work had revolved around booking concert tours and negotiating deals. With the focus of the Beatles work now dedicated to the recording studio, Epstein spiraled. His drinking and drug use, as well as his expensive gambling habit, grew to epic proportions. He was found dead in his bed on August 27, 1967, at the age of 32. Surrounding him in bed were items of correspondence, the script for the Yellow Submarine animated film, and a novel called The Rabbi by Noah Gordon. Published in 1965, the American author’s debut was an instant hit, spending 26 weeks on The New York Times’ bestseller list.
An inquest ruled that Epstein died from an “incautious” drug overdose. On Oct. 17, a memorial service for Epstein was held at the New London synagogue in Abbey Road, attended by the Beatles, Cilla Black, George Martin, Dick James, and members of the Finchley Jewish Youth Club, for which Brian had served as president. Writes Norman, “The Beatles wore black paper yarmulkes which kept slipping off their shaggy hair.”
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He reconnected with Judaism as an adult. With his art, he hopes others do the same.
Bruce David’s magnum opus is a psychedelic lithograph depicting practically the entire Torah. Over eight months, David filled it with a plethora of hidden symbols: If you look closely, you can see Joshua blowing a shofar, which hugs the Israeli flag. Squint even more and you’ll notice Joshua’s face is the flared end of an even bigger shofar that encompasses the Ten Commandments, a shofar made up of dozens of small people, seven of whom hold flames as if making a human menorah.
To understand every hidden image in just this one painting would take more words than I have space for. David gave me the “short version” of the piece’s story on Zoom — it still took six minutes.
Although David has now spent decades making Jewish art — prints, mosaics, stained glass and metal works — and exhibiting it across the country, it wasn’t what he had anticipated doing with his life. David doesn’t have any formal art training and for several years, he lost touch with his Judaism.
“Oftentimes I’ll refer to myself as a deeply flawed holy man wannabe,” David told me over Zoom from his house in Bloomington, Indiana. “But I always had this spiritual pull.”
David grew up in Louisville, Kentucky, with a Reform father and a mother from an Orthodox family. His Orthodox grandmother, Bess Harris — who he described as a force to be reckoned with — was a particular influence on him.
“I really learned my Jewish heart from her and her love of God,” David said. “She was involved with starting a Jewish day school, a Jewish nursing home, the synagogue, and she would lead trips to Israel.”
But traditional religious practice didn’t speak to him when he was a kid. He told me that one time he even climbed out of the window during Hebrew school to go play basketball.
Years later, his wife Diane was the one who helped him find new ways to connect with Judaism. Although she was raised Catholic, Diane was curious about Judaism. David needed to refresh himself on the answers.
“We started looking at the different aspects of Judaism and different things started to make sense,” David told me. “Shabbat made sense — you know, everybody needs a time to rest, recharge. Yom Kippur makes sense as a time to forgive and be forgiven. Rosh Hashanah to start again. Sukkot to get out and celebrate and get close to nature.”
When the couple met, David’s job was making deliveries for his grandfather’s wholesale store in Louisville. For David’s 30th birthday, Diane gave him a set of pigment pencils and the art started flowing out of him. Many of his pieces are concerned with biblical stories — like his mosaic of Jonah emerging onto the shores of Nineveh or his rainbow colored print of Balaam and his donkey — and he refers to them as “visual midrash.”
Unsure what to do with his art, David went to the Hillel at Indiana University Bloomington to see if the rabbi had any ideas. The rabbi connected him with art professor Mazelle Van Buskirk who was taken with David’s work. She arranged for an exhibit at IU’s School of Fine Arts, making him the first community artist to be given such an honor and kicking off his career.
He has presented his art at Jewish schools and exhibited it at events like the National Hadassah Conference, the Cincinnati Jewish Folk Festival, and the Coalition for Alternatives to Jewish Education. His work has been on the cover of books and Jewish publications. Many of the events that have had the greatest impact on David’s life were unplanned.
“We’ve always lived our lives on miracles,” David told me.
Among these, David said, was Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, “the Singing Rabbi” who wrote hundreds of liturgical melodies in the 20th century, conducting a (planned) conversion for Diane and an (unplanned) wedding ceremony for the couple in the 80s.
“We went to the mikvah for the conversion,” David told me. “And then he tells us ‘Oh by the way we’re going to marry you Saturday night after Shabbat.’”
Another miracle happened when David met a couple looking for someone to manage 29 acres in Bloomington overlooking Monroe Lake. Nature lovers, the couple quickly took the opportunity to live somewhere they could connect with the earth. David’s admiration for natural forms can also be found in much of his art; the shapes tend to flow and bend.
Over the 46 years that the couple has lived on their property, they’ve turned it into a home base for their Jewish worship and educational group Light of the Nations, which conducts lessons at various synagogues and JCCs through art and music. They host parties for Sukkot and the solar eclipse on their huge lawn, welcoming dozens of visitors.
David said they wanted their home to be a “place where people come out and get close to nature in life and slow down.”
Seventy-five years old and battling blood cancer, David is now spending his time focusing on helping people connect to Judaism in a holistic way and see the beauty that brought him back to religion. He’s slowed down on exhibiting his art, instead working on making sure Light of the Nations’ mission can continue once he is gone and that his art will find a home.
David hopes that people recognize in his art “that there’s this amazing, incredible life force influencing all creation.”
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Metropolitan Police investigating abuse of Jewish attendees at London Pride
(JTA) — London’s Metropolitan Police launched an investigation Monday into antisemitic abuse at a Pride parade after videos and pictures circulated on social media showed Jewish participants enduring taunts at Saturday’s event.
The police department said in a statement that officers were “aware of videos circulating online that show antisemitic verbal abuse directed towards attendees” at the parade in central London and that footage was being reviewed to assess whether criminal offenses had been committed. The department added that it “continues to work hard to tackle hate crimes of all types.”
Videos shared online show people carrying rainbow flags incorporating the Star of David being confronted by individuals shouting “Free Palestine.” The harassment escalated with attendees shouting, “Go back to your Zionist homeland,” “You kill Arab children, you kill gay children,” “F*** you, Jew,” and “How many babies did you kill?”
The Jewish Telegraphic Agency reached out to Pride in London for comment. The group had not replied by press time.
The incident comes amid heightened concern over antisemitism in Britain since Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel, with a record number of antisemitic incidents reported over the past two years. It also comes as Pride celebrations around the world have been roiled by tensions over Israel and antisemitism.
Pride in London drew tens of thousands of participants and visitors to the Soho neighborhood in the British capital. Some Jewish LGBTQ+ organizations have in recent years chosen not to participate in Pride, citing hostility towards Zionist Jews. But this year, around 150 people marched as part of a Jewish bloc at the event.
Organizers said the return this year followed discussions with Pride in London over Jewish inclusion and commitments that organizers would undertake antisemitism awareness training in partnership with the Community Security Trust, the main security consultant to the Jewish community. Jewish LGBTQ group Keshet UK stated earlier this year that the measures were intended to help ensure Jewish LGBTQ+ participants could march “safely and openly” following concerns raised after Oct. 7.
It was not clear whether the Jewish marchers who endured the abuse were part of the official Jewish bloc – accounts from marchers who stayed with the Jewish bloc were generally positive.
“A few people came and chanted ‘free, free, Palestine,’” Israeli author and LGBTQ+ activist Hen Mazzig told JTA. “They were passing through. And there was another person who was at a cafe and then they came by and they were just staring at us.”
Mazzig shared footage from the event on X, writing, ”My pride is not affected by the opinions of others. I am gay, I am Jewish, and I’m here to stay. Am Yisrael chai.”
Mazzig splits his time between London and Tel Aviv, because his husband is British. He told JTA in a phone interview that Saturday’s incidents “were scary, especially when a Pride parade is supposed to be inclusive.”
Mazzig said that since Oct, 7, circumstances have been exceptionally challenging for the British Jewish community “but specifically for LGBTQ youth that are being forced to choose between their Jewish identity and their queer identity.”
Mazzig claimed that Jewish marchers are not accepted unless they specify that they are anti-Zionist. “Every statement of solidarity with LGBTQ Jews seems to come with a ‘but,’” he said. ‘We support you, but not if you’re physically Jewish, not if you’re supporting Israel. You have to renounce half of your identity first.’ That’s not equality.”
In advance of Saturday’s event, some 650 Met police officers were deployed to enforce “zero tolerance” on hate crimes and to ensure that attendees could “safely and securely” enjoy the parade.
When JTA asked the Metropolitan police why at least two policemen appeared to stand by as Jews were subject to abuse, the Met requested that JTA provide the video in question. After being supplied with the video, the Met later told JTA that it had nothing further to add at this stage but would provide an update if it did.
Mazzig said the Met police should consider the abuse at the parade “shameful and it should alarm everyone.”
He added, “I hope that we stop debating whether or not antisemitism is real and accept it. And that communities that are supposed to be inclusive and pluralistic start taking action.”
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