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My grandmother was a ‘Sherlock Holmes of Yiddish song,’ but she couldn’t solve the mystery of antisemitism
(JTA) — When I was younger, my family sang Yiddish songs at almost every holiday and gathering.
Funny songs, sad songs, songs about love, about the Holocaust, about hunger, about labor and resistance — the usual Yiddish fare. My Bubby, Chana Mlotek, a Yiddish archivist and ethnomusicologist, collected hundreds of them with my Zeyde, Yosl Mlotek, who became known as the address for Yiddish in America. Nobel laureate Isaac Bashevis Singer called them “the Sherlock Holmeses of Yiddish folk songs” for their investigations of Jewish music.
We would gather by the piano in my grandparents’ living room in the Bronx, with the piano being helmed by my Bubby, sometimes my great-aunt Malke Gottlieb (with whom my Bubby compiled a collection of songs from the Jewish ghettos), then my father, then my uncle. Eventually each of the eyniklekh — the grandkids — would have to sing in Yiddish.
Of course, I didn’t recognize until I got older that Yiddish songs are an incredible porthole into history, while also testifying to the vivaciousness of a people nearly destroyed and a culture almost erased. It’s through these lyrics and other stories from my grandparents that I learned the history of our people and the faith we had in America, “Dos Goldene Land,” where immigrants came to escape religious persecution. One famous song, in particular, was about the tragic letdown of this promise.
“The Ballad of Leo Frank” was about the Jewish factory manager from Atlanta. In 1913, a 14-year-old employee at his pencil factory named Mary Phagan was found dead. Frank was accused of her murder on flimsy evidence.
After a trumped-up trial, a biased jury found Frank guilty after four hours of deliberation. The case was retried, and appealed before the United States Supreme Court, without success. Hundreds of thousands of petitions were sent to Gov. John Slaton of Georgia, who eventually commuted the death sentence to life imprisonment. But months later, a bloodthirsty gang, who were later to inspire the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan, kidnapped Frank from jail and lynched him.
Thanks to Yiddish music, we knew all these facts. The painful details of the Frank case were heard in melancholic Yiddish songs like “The Ballad of Leo Frank” and “Lebn zol Columbus” (“Long Live Columbus”), which we as children crooned around the piano in the living room of my Bubby’s apartment.
“A bilbl hot men oysgetrakht / Oyf undzern a yidl” — they made up a blood libel about one of our Jews — goes the lyrics from one of these songs.
We sing these songs to learn about our history, hoping never to repeat it. But just a couple weeks ago, antisemitic mobs weren’t just part of a songbook. They were here, right in the heart of New York City.
Frank’s story is the subject of a new revival of a Broadway musical, “Parade,” starring Ben Platt, which opened this month at the Bernard Jacobs Theatre. During previews, members of a neo-Nazi group called The National Socialist Movement rallied outside the theater, handing out leaflets and accusing Frank of being a pedophile and a murderer. Mostly, they were there to stoke fear and rekindle the same Jew hatred that cost Frank his life more than a century ago.
This is only the latest example of what has been an alarming growth of antisemitism in the United States. Jews who grew up learning (or singing) about blood libels in Russia have always slept with one eye open, haunted by the fear that antisemitism would rear its ugly head here, too.
Just last week as I entered the subway in midtown Manhattan, I was verbally accosted by a man who lowered his shirt collar to show me his swastika tattoo. And so the story goes.
As Passover approaches, the words of the Haggadah come to mind: “b’khol dor vador” — in every generation. In every generation, enemies emerge and the responsibility to rekindle learning and reclaim identity falls upon us, each in our own unique way.
It feels fitting then that my grandparents’ anthology is now accessible to a whole new audience.
The Yosl and Chana Mlotek Yiddish Song Collection at the Workers Circle went live this week. It is a searchable, comprehensive database of Yiddish music and song, spanning centuries, genres, artists and more, bringing my grandparents’ anthologies online. Hundreds of Yiddish songs, including the Leo Frank ballad, can be freely accessed thanks to a thorough digitization process overseen by my brother, Elisha Mlotek, who served as creative director for the website.
Sponsored by the Mlotek family, this new website is a loving collaboration between the Arbeter Ring (Workers Circle) and the Mlotek family and will ensure Yiddish song and in turn Jewish history never cower in the face of prejudice. As Elisha describes the music collected on the website, “It is an essential record of our people — the richness and resilience of our culture.”
My grandfather died in 2000. Chana died in 2013, at age 91. Bubby’s piano now lives in my father’s office at the National Yiddish Theatre Folksbiene, but we still come together around song. (In fact, it was my cousin Lee who recently reminded us of the Leo Frank song he learned from my uncle in an Arbeter Ring shule, or school.)
This Thursday my Bubby’s sons, her grandchildren and even some of her great-grandchildren will participate in a tribute concert to her at the YIVO Institute of Jewish Research, where Chana served as the music archivist for decades. The in-person free concert, presented in collaboration with Carnegie Hall and which can be streamed digitally, will include family friends who also happen to be some of the most special Yiddish singers of the day, including Joanne Borts, Sarah Gordon, Elmore James, Daniella Rabbani, Eleanor Reissa, Lorin Sklamberg and Steven Skybell, who played Tevye in “Fidler Afn Dakh,” the Yiddish production of “Fiddler on the Roof.”
Now is as welcome a time as any to celebrate Jewish life, learn a Yiddish song and discover the lessons of history along the way.
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The post My grandmother was a ‘Sherlock Holmes of Yiddish song,’ but she couldn’t solve the mystery of antisemitism appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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NELLA MARGRITHE ESKIN NOVEMBER 14, 1946 – AUGUST 27, 2025
It is with great sorrow that the Eskin family reports the passing of Nella Margrithe Eskin, beloved wife and devoted partner of Michael Eskin, on August 27, 2025.
Nella, the only child of the late Kasiel and Rosa Kessler, Holocaust survivors, was born in a displaced persons camp in Fohrenwald, Germany, in 1946. The family first moved to Baltimore as refugees in 1949 before settling in Chicago, where Nella graduated from Roosevelt University with Bachelor of Science degree.
In 1969, she met Michael, and three months later they were married in Chicago in March 1970. They shared a wonderful marriage of over 55 years, during which they raised a family of four boys and created a home that was always full of song, food, guests and Yiddishkeit. Sadly, their eldest son, Katriel, passed away in 2015. Nella is survived by her other three sons, Josh, Ezra and Daniel, and their families as well as Katriel’s wife and family. She was a devoted wife, mother, and grandmother to her husband, sons, and ten grandchildren, and a loving daughter to her mother, Rosa, who passed away in 2020.
A lifelong scholar, she earned an MBA from the University of Manitoba in 1995. Nella was a very pious and learned woman who was also a wonderful artist, music lover, gardener and cook. She passed her love of music, art, storytelling and learning to her children, teaching each of them piano and instilling in them an enduring appreciation for the arts that continues to this day. She was an incredibly warm woman and made every gathering feel special, every guest feel valued, and every meal feel like a celebration of love and friendship.
She will be sorely missed by her husband, children, grandchildren, relatives in the UK, USA, Australia, and Israel, and many dear friends. Her kindness, curiosity, and love will live on in the many lives she touched. May her memory be
a blessing.
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VIDEO: Moishele Alfonso on the new book of I. L. Peretz stories for students
לכּבֿוד דער פּובליקאַציע פֿונעם ביכל „אויפֿן װעג: זיבן דערציילונגען פֿון י.־ל. פּרץ“ — אַ זאַמלונג ספּעציעל געמאַכט פֿאַר סטודענטן — קען מען איצט זען אַן אינטערוויו מיטן ייִדיש־לערער משהלע אַלפֿאָנסאָ, וואָס האָט פֿאַרקירצט און באַאַרבעט די דערציילונגען.
אין דעם אינטערוויו דערציילט אַלפֿאָנסאָ וועגן דעם פּראָצעס פֿון שאַפֿן דאָס ביכל, און לייענט געקליבענע אויסצוגן דערפֿון. דער אינטערוויו, געפֿירט פֿון אלי בענעדיקט, איז געשטיצט געוואָרן פֿון דער ייִדיש־ליגע, וואָס האָט אויך אַרויסגעגעבן דאָס לייענביכל.
דאָס נאָוואַטאָרישע ביכל גיט דעם לייענער אַ צוטריט צו קלאַסישע ייִדיש־דערציילונגען דורך אַ זײַט־בײַ־זײַטיקן גלאָסאַר, שמועס־פֿראַגעס און קלאַנג־רעקאָרדירונגען פֿון די מעשׂיות.
משהלע אַלפֿאָנסאָ איז אַ ייִדיש־לערער בײַם ייִדישן ביכער־צענטער זינט 2019. אין 2022 האָט ער, דורכן פֿאַרלאַג „אָלניאַנסקי־טעקסט“, טראַנסקריבירט און אַרויסגעגעבן יצחק באַשעוויסעס בוך „שׂונאים: די געשיכטע פֿון אַ ליבע“. דער ראָמאַן איז אַרויס אין המשכים אינעם פֿאָרווערטס אין 1966, און ס’איז דאָס ערשטע מאָל וואָס שׂונאים איז אַרויס אין בוכפֿאָרעם אויף ייִדיש.
דאָס ביכל קען מען באַשטעלן דאָ.
The post VIDEO: Moishele Alfonso on the new book of I. L. Peretz stories for students appeared first on The Forward.
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VIDEO: Peter, Paul and Mary’s “Light One Candle” — in Yiddish
If, like me, you enjoy listening to old recordings of the iconic folk group Peter, Paul and Mary, you may want to check this out: a new Yiddish version of their Hanukkah song “Light One Candle,” sung by another talented trio — Rabbi Avram, Elisha and Sarah Mlotek. (A transliteration of the lyrics appears beneath the video below.)
The three siblings are the grown children of Zalmen Mlotek, musician and director of the Yiddish National Theater Folksbiene, and his wife, Debbie Mlotek. Rabbi Avram is a writer, Elisha is a filmmaker and Sarah is studying music at a conservatory in Israel — and just became a mom.
Their singing is backed up by C. Joseph Lanzbom on guitar and Elisha on percussion.
The original song, which was written by Peter Yarrow, became an anthem for the Soviet Jewry movement in the 1980s, symbolizing their struggle for freedom. It was translated into Yiddish by the theater producer Moishe Rosenfeld and Avram Mlotek.
“‘Light One Candle’ was one of our Bubbe’s favorite songs every time we got together for a Hanukkah sing-along,” Avram said. Their Bubbe was the renowned scholar of Yiddish song, Chana Mlotek. For many years, she and her husband, the Yiddish cultural activist Yosl Mlotek, ran a column about Yiddish songs and poetry in the Forward.
Although Hanukkah is still a month away, Bubby Chana’s grandchildren had a meaningful reason for publishing it now: This week marks her yortzeit.
TRANSLITERATION
Eyn likht shaynt far di heldishe kinder
A dank vos dos likht geyt nit oys
Eyn likht shaynt far di payn un di laydn
Di sakone’z geven azoy groys
Eyn likht flakert far korbones un laydn
Az yoysher un frayhayt zol zayn
Eyn likhtl flakert far khokhme un visn
Far frayhayt un sholem zol zayn.
Lesht nit di likhtlekh oys!
Zey flakern shoyn doyres-lang
Lesht nit di likhtlekh oys!
Balaykhtn durkh undzer gezang!
Eyn likht flakert tsu gebn undz koyekh
Az eybik mir’n blaybn getray
Eyn likht flakert far mentshn vos laydn
Oykh mir zenen nisht geven fray
Eyn likhtl flakert far zise khaloymes
Tseteyln zol undz nisht der kas
Un eyn likhtl flakert tsu haltn tsuzamen
Mit sholem un mer nisht kayn has
Lesht nit di likhtlekh oys!
Zey flakern shoyn doyres-lang
Lesht nit di likhtlekh oys!
Balaykhtn durkh undzer gezang!
Vos iz di mayse vos iz azoy tayer
Vos lebt eybik in undzer flam?
Vos iz di shvue tsu fargangene doyres
Az es lebt undzer folk, undzer am?
Mir kumen, mir geyen, mir hofn, mir gloybn
Az yoysher vet vern der klal
Dos iz der viln, dos iz di shvue
A shenere velt iberal!
Lesht nit di likhtlekh oys!
Zey flakern shoyn doyres-lang
Lesht nit di likhtlekh oys!
Balaykhtn durkh undzer gezang!
The post VIDEO: Peter, Paul and Mary’s “Light One Candle” — in Yiddish appeared first on The Forward.