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The Dominican Republic was a haven for Jews fleeing the Nazis. A museum project could tell that story.
SOSUA, Dominican Republic (JTA) — Sitting inside a small wood-frame shul just around the corner from Playa Alicia, where tourists sip rum punch while watching catamarans glide by, Joe Benjamin recounted one of the most uplifting but often forgotten stories of Jewish survival during the Holocaust.
“I was bar mitzvahed right here,” he said, pointing to a podium at the front of the sanctuary in La Sinagoga de Sosua. It was built in the early 1940s to meet the spiritual needs of about 750 German and Austrian Jews.
At the time, the Dominican Republic was the only country in the world that offered asylum to large numbers of Jewish refugees, earning the moniker “tropical Zion.”
Benjamin, 82, is president of the Jewish community of Sosua and one of only four surviving second-generation Jews remaining in this touristy beach town on the northern coast of the Dominican Republic. His parents were part of the unconventional colony of Jewish immigrants who established an agricultural settlement between 1940-47 on an abandoned banana plantation overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
“When I talk about that, I get goosebumps,” Benjamin said. “This is a distinction that the Dominican Republic has. It was the only country that opened its doors to Jews.”
Joe Benjamin, president of the Jewish Community of Sosua, inside the sanctuary of La Sinagoga. (Dan Fellner)
At the 1938 Evian Conference in France, attended by representatives of 32 countries to address the problem of German and Austrian Jewish refugees wanting to flee Nazi persecution, the Dominican Republic announced it would accept up to 100,000 Jewish refugees. About 5,000 visas were issued but fewer than 1,000 Jews ultimately were able to reach the country, which is located on the same island as Haiti, about 800 miles southeast of Miami.
Benjamin was born in 1941 in Shanghai, the only other place besides the Dominican Republic that accepted large numbers of Jewish refugees during the Holocaust. Shanghai, then a divided city not under the control of a single government, did not require a visa to enter. About 20,000 Jewish refugees immigrated there, including Benjamin’s parents, who fled Nazi Germany in 1939.
In 1947, with a civil war raging in China, Benjamin’s father realized the country “was getting a little difficult” and looked for another place to raise his two children.
“I think my father read it in a newspaper – there was a Jewish refugee colony in the Dominican Republic,” he says. “My father had no idea where that was, but he said, ‘I’m going there.’”
Benjamin’s family took a ship from China to San Francisco, a train to Miami, and then flew into Santo Domingo, the Dominican Republic’s capital city. At that time, the city was officially called Ciudad Trujillo after the country’s dictator, Generalissimo Rafael Trujillo, who ruled the Dominican Republic from 1930 until his assassination in 1961.
Photos of some of the 750 Jewish refugees who settled in Sosua in the 1940s on display at the Gregorio Luperon International Airport in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. (Dan Fellner)
Historians suggest the Dominican dictator’s motives in accepting large numbers of Jewish refugees at a time when so many other countries — including the United States, Canada and the United Kingdom — turned their backs were fueled more by opportunism than altruism. It’s believed that Trujillo wanted to improve his reputation on the world stage following the 1937 massacre of an estimated 20,000 Black Haitians by Dominican troops. Furthermore, Trujillo liked the idea of allowing a crop of mostly educated immigrants who would “whiten” the country’s population.
“He was a cruel dictator,” Benjamin said of Trujillo. “But it’s not for me to judge. Because for us, he saved our lives. If you’re drowning and someone throws you a rope, you hold on to it. You don’t start asking his motive. You just hold on.”
In 1947, Benjamin was among the last group of Jewish refugees to arrive in Sosua, one of about 10 families known by the other colonists as the “Shanghai group.” The Sosua settlement was run by an organization called the Dominican Republic Settlement Association (DORSA) that was funded by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee in New York.
“DORSA would give you 10 cows, a mule, a horse and a cart,” said Benjamin. “My father by profession was a cabinet-maker. He thought he was going to do that here. But there was no market for that. So he dedicated himself to farming.”
Benjamin said conditions in Sosua were “primitive” and a difficult transition for many settlers who had been city-dwellers in Europe. Still, he spoke fondly of a childhood in which he was relatively insulated from the horrors that befell so many other Jewish children his age.
“We had enough to eat,” he says. “We enjoyed the beach. And I went to a Jewish school.”
La Sinagoga de Sosua in the Dominican Republic served the spiritual needs of the Jewish refugees who found a safe haven in Sosua during the Holocaust. It’s now open only for the high holidays. (Dan Fellner)
The school, originally called Escuela Cristobal Colon, opened in 1940 in a barracks and was attended by Jewish children as well as the children of Dominican farm workers. The school still exists and is now called the Colegio Luis Hess, named after Luis Hess, one of the Jewish settlers. Hess taught at the school for 33 years and lived in Sosua until his death in 2010 at the age of 101.
While the children attended school, men worked on farms and women cooked dinner for their families, who ate communal style. Beds were lined with mosquito netting to prevent malaria. As men greatly outnumbered women — Trujillo did not allow single Jewish women to enter the country — intermarriage was common.
Over time, the agriculture venture failed and DORSA instead decided to promote a beef and dairy cooperative, Productos Sosua, which ultimately proved successful.
After finishing high school, Benjamin moved to Pittsburgh to attend college (he’s an engineer who once built and flew his own airplane), got married and started a family. After 17 years in the United States, he decided in 1976 to return to the Dominican Republic, where he became an executive with Productos Sosua. He worked there until he retired in 2004, when the firm was sold to a Mexican company.
“All my life I talked about Sosua as my home,” he said. “I like it here. Everybody knows me.”
A street mural recognizes Sosua’s Jewish history on the main road connecting Sosua with Puerto Plata on the north coast of the Dominican Republic. (Dan Fellner)
Today, Sosua is vastly changed from the sleepy town in which Benjamin was raised. In 1979, an international airport opened in Puerto Plata, just a 15-minute drive to the west. Sosua morphed into a congested tourist destination known for its golden-sand beaches and water sports. It also became a hub of the Dominican sex tourism industry.
Most of Sosua’s Jewish population immigrated to the United States by the early 1980s. Benjamin estimates that only 30-40 Jews remain in Sosua, most of whom are not religiously observant. As a result, the synagogue hasn’t been able to financially sustain a permanent rabbi for more than 20 years. Services are held only on the high holidays, when a rabbi is flown in from Miami.
Benjamin says a group of seven Jews chips in about $2,500 a month to pay for security and other operating expenses.
“It’s very hard to get the Jews here to pay,” he said. “When we bring in the rabbi, we try to charge something. But we don’t get any people if we charge.”
Next to the synagogue is a small museum called the Museo Judio de Sosua, which offers a window into the town’s Jewish roots. Five years ago, the U.S. Embassy in Santo Domingo donated $80,000 to the museum to preserve and digitize its archives. However, the museum, which is badly in need of repairs, has been closed for the past year.
The Museo Judio de Sosua, which tells the story of the Jewish refugees who found a safe haven in the Dominican Republic during the Holocaust. The museum is closed while the community waits for funding to reopen it. (Dan Fellner)
Benjamin has been in discussions with the Dominican government in hopes it will soon finance a major renovation of the museum that would include an exhibition hall big enough to accommodate 100 people for events. Benjamin says he is optimistic the project, which has a price-tag approaching $1 million, will be green-lighted by the government.
“They are very positive about it because it could become a tourist attraction,” he says, noting that Puerto Plata and nearby Amber Cove have become popular port-stops on Caribbean cruises originating in Florida. “If it comes to fruition, it will be in the next year. Because if they don’t do it by then, the government changes. And the next government never continues what the previous government started.”
Otherwise, there are only a few remnants of Jewish life in Sosua for visitors to see. In Parque Mirador overlooking the Atlantic, there is a white cement-block star of David, built to honor the Jewish refugees. About 70 Jews, including Benjamin’s parents, are buried in a Jewish cemetery about a five-minute drive south of the synagogue.
The main street connecting Sosua with Puerto Plata has a street mural depicting the town’s history that features a large star of David right above a scuba-diver. And two of the most prominent streets in Sosua — Dr. Rosen and David Stern — still bear the names of two of the colony’s Jewish founders.
Dr. Rosen Street in downtown Sosua is named after Joseph Rosen, one of the founders of the Dominican Republic Settlement Association. (Dan Fellner)
There had been an exhibition about Sosua’s Jewish colony at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York but it closed several years ago. All the more reason, Benjamin says, that the Sosua museum reopens as soon as possible so that the story of the Jews who found a Caribbean cocoon to ride out the Holocaust isn’t forgotten.
“Look at what’s happening in the world — there is a rise in antisemitism,” he said. “It’s very important that our history is documented. It will also be a place where Dominican schoolchildren can come and learn about Judaism.”
With the museum closed, the only place in the area to see photos of the Jewish settlers on public display is the departure lounge in Puerto Plata’s airport. Next to a Dominican band serenading travelers with meringue music, there is a display of pictures showing the colonists riding horses, tilling the fields, attending school and praying in La Sinagoga.
“When they came here, the Jews found no antisemitism at all in this country,” said Benjamin. “They were as free as anybody. They had a wonderful life.”
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When a Jewish prisoner died in Ohio in 1918, four fellow inmates left the penitentiary in civilian clothes to ensure he got a proper burial
Jack Nast wanted to be buried in a Jewish cemetery.
He died in April 1918 while incarcerated at the Ohio Penitentiary in Columbus. Little is known about the circumstances that brought him there, but another prisoner, Morris Hess, preserved an account of his final days.
As he lay ill, Nast cried out that he was a Jew, Hess wrote. He expressed pride in Jewish history and its achievements, faith in the teachings of Judaism, and regret that his own life had not lived up to its principles. He wished to receive a burial befitting someone “born in the House of Israel.”
With the aid of others, his request was granted.
Isaac B. Jashenosky and Jacob Myers, two men who regularly visited the Jewish prisoners, were with Nast before he died. Jashenosky, whom the prisoners called “rabbi,” conducted the funeral service at an unidentified Jewish cemetery, likely in Columbus. When Nast’s relatives, whom Hess described as wealthy, refused to contribute toward the expenses, Warden Preston E. Thomas permitted the prison’s Jewish inmates to contribute to a collection for the funeral.
Four prisoners were also allowed to attend the burial in civilian clothing. They listened as Jashenosky delivered his remarks and Nast’s remains were returned to the earth.
“Kaddish was said and will be said every week for him,” Hess wrote.
The account appeared in The American Israelite, a Cincinnati Jewish newspaper, under the heading “Prisoners in Ohio Penitentiary are Grateful.” Hess signed the letter with his name and prison number, 45511.
Jewish life behind prison walls
The men who helped bury Nast were part of a larger effort to sustain Jewish religious life inside Ohio’s prisons. By 1899, prisoners were being excused from work for Jewish holidays and provided with special food. In 1902, about ten Jewish inmates received matzo for Passover. By 1913, religious services were also being arranged at correctional institutions in Mansfield and Lancaster.
In 1915, Charles Albert Rosenbaum wrote to The American Israelite about B’nai B’rith’s efforts to reach Jewish prisoners in Ohio.
For years, Rosenbaum wrote, Jewish prisoners had watched representatives of other faiths visit their institutions, “not with envious but with saddened eyes.” They wondered why their own people had been so neglectful. In prison libraries, they read of “the beauties and the godlike charities of the Jewish peoples,” but turned from those pages, looked at “the cold steel walls of their cells” and doubted.
“How all of this has been changed!” Rosenbaum declared.
Rosenbaum credited Jashenosky, Myers and other Columbus volunteers with organizing visits and religious services. With Warden Thomas’ permission, more than 100 services had been held over the preceding two years, he reported, without guards present.
Hess was among those who recorded these gatherings. In 1917, he described a service attended by Jashenosky and Myers, noting that one visitor, Mrs. I. J. Shatz, had distributed cigars to the prisoners.
Freedom in the penitentiary
In 1920, Hess described Passover services held with the cooperation of Warden Thomas and his wife, Mary Thomas. Women from Columbus’ Ezrath Nosheim Society provided a holiday meal.
Jashenosky preached that although everyone desired liberty, true freedom came through “the awakening of the soul.” He told the prisoners that, “Freedom is not alone a privilege, but a lifelong obligation.”
In December 1921, another prisoner, Harry Joseph, writing on behalf of the Jewish inmates, described the work of B’nai B’rith, the Council of Jewish Women and the Ezrath Nosheim Society.
He recalled the holiday meals that women from Columbus had prepared and served, including a dinner following Yom Kippur services. Their presence, he wrote, reminded the prisoners of “the Jewish fireside with its family love.”
He continued, “The knowledge that someone cares is an incentive to reach the end of this rocky road of adversity and become useful citizens.”
Jashenosky died in April 1930, at the age of 79. Newspapers reported that he had served as a prison chaplain for more than half a century.
Before he died, Jashenosky made one final request. He wanted two Jewish prisoners, Abe Shapiro and Adam Sikorski, to attend his funeral.
Warden Thomas granted permission.
The post When a Jewish prisoner died in Ohio in 1918, four fellow inmates left the penitentiary in civilian clothes to ensure he got a proper burial appeared first on The Forward.
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Houston Astros hire former Team Israel manager Brad Ausmus as skipper
(JTA) — The Houston Astros hired Brad Ausmus as manager, the team announced Wednesday, making the former Team Israel skipper the lone active Jewish manager in Major League Baseball.
This will be Ausmus’ third managerial stint in MLB. He previously led the Detroit Tigers from 2014-2017 and the Los Angeles Angels in 2019. Ausmus, 57, owns a 386-422 career managerial record. He will be introduced at a press conference at Houston’s Daikin Park on Friday.
Ausmus most recently served as the New York Yankees’ bench coach from 2024-2026 and also previously worked in the front offices of the San Diego Padres and Angels. He had interviewed for the Astros’ managerial opening in 2020 and for their general manager role in 2022.
Ausmus spent 10 of his 18 MLB seasons with the Astros. He finished his playing career with a .251 batting average, .325 on-base percentage and .344 slugging percentage. The New Haven, Connecticut, native managed Team Israel during the qualifiers for the 2013 World Baseball Classic, served on its coaching staff in the 2023 WBC and managed the team in the 2026 tournament.
“Regarding Aus, he is just a perfect big league manager in every way and there are not many people you can say that about,” Nate Fish, the CEO of Israel Baseball Americas and a former Israel player and coach, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “He is smart. He is calm. He has the experience. He is a good fit for any team but a perfect fit in Houston considering he played 10 years there.”
Fish also pointed out that “this is the second time [Ausmus] has been hired to manage in the big leagues following a stint managing Team Israel. Just sayin’. There is a pattern!”
Israel won two of its four games in the 2026 tournament, securing a spot in the 2030 competition.
“I am honored and excited to take on this role,” Ausmus said before the March tournament. “I’ve been incredibly proud to be part of Team Israel’s journey. My focus remains exactly where it has always been: building a cohesive, competitive team that proudly represents Israel on the world stage. We have a solid foundation, and I’m ready to hit the ground running with our talented staff and players to achieve our goals for 2026.”
Ausmus, a former catcher, played for the Astros from 1997-1998 and again from 2001-2008. He won three Gold Glove Awards for his defense with Houston and was an All-Star in 1999 with Detroit. His 1,971 career MLB appearances are the most ever by a Jewish player, according to the Jewish Baseball Museum.
“I am very excited to be back in Houston,” Ausmus said in a statement. “The Astros and the city of Houston have been a huge part of my life, and I’m thrilled to create a new chapter as the team’s manager. I can’t wait to get to work.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Houston Astros hire former Team Israel manager Brad Ausmus as skipper appeared first on The Forward.
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Netanyahu’s son calls dad’s opponents ‘saboteurs’ in book to be distributed by Simon & Schuster
(JTA) — Simon & Schuster will distribute a new book by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s son, which says that foreign and domestic Israeli enemies coordinated to unseat his father.
Yair Netanyahu, a 35-year-old political activist, has authored “Two-Front War: Inside Israel’s Fight for Survival — Against Foreign Enemies and Domestic Saboteurs.” The book is set to be released by RatPac Press in March 2027.
A blurb for the book on Simon & Schuster’s website said Yair Netanyahu was “a proud Jew and a devoted Zionist” who discovered that Israeli institutions conspired against his father.
“When the institutions that govern Israel — its prosecutors, judges, intelligence bureaucracy, military command, media networks, and foreign-funded NGOs — turned their attention toward removing his father from power, he found himself inside a Kafkaesque system that few citizens ever see,” the description said.
The prime minister has been on trial since 2020 in three corruption cases, facing charges of bribery, fraud and breach of trust, which he has denied. Yair Netanyahu has alleged that prosecutors and police involved in his father’s trials sought to stage a “coup” and committed “treason.”
The blurb also said the Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas attacks on Israel “unmaskted” [sic] an “alliance between neo-Nazi, radical Islamist movements, and far-left ideological networks,” which targeted Israel as the first obstacle in “a broader project to destabilize the West and erod [sic] the foundations of free civilization.”
Yair Netanyahu is a divisive figure in Israel known for social media posts that back his father’s politics and can advance far-right conspiracy theories. In 2017, he drew international condemnation for sharing an image that featured Jewish philanthropist George Soros controlling his father’s political adversaries, a post that earned him praise from the neo-Nazi website The Daily Stormer. He alleged this week that Israel’s Oct. 27 election was rigged against his father, saying the vote was “stolen by enemy states that bribed Arab voters.”
Yair Netanyahu’s publisher, RatPac Press, is part of RatPac Entertainment, founded by filmmaker Brett Ratner and Australian billionaire James Packer. Ratner immigrated to Israel in 2023 after sexual misconduct allegations stalled his Hollywood career, though he denied the allegations. He was a special guest of Benjamin Netanyahu at the United Nations General Assembly in September 2023 and posted a photo of them together on Instagram.
Packer was named in one of Benjamin Netanyahu’s corruption indictments, which alleged that he gave the prime minister and his wife gifts of cigars and champagne between 2014 and 2016. He told Australian Federal Police agents in 2017 that he was “happy to give him presents, many times at his request and his wife Sara’s request,” according to Israel’s Channel 10. Packer sold his stake in RatPac in 2017.
Simon & Schuster and RatPac Entertainment did not respond to requests for comment.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Netanyahu’s son calls dad’s opponents ‘saboteurs’ in book to be distributed by Simon & Schuster appeared first on The Forward.
