The Jewish Sport Report: How a Jewish football star changed Harvard
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Good afternoon, sports fans!
It’s been an exciting month for Jewish athletes across sports — from last week’s Jewish pitching duel to Jewish brothers on the NHL’s biggest stage.
But one of the biggest stories in sports right now is the NBA Playoffs, which have been riveting. All four semifinal series have reached Game 6, with the Boston-Philadelphia series headed to Game 7 this weekend. The Lakers-Warriors matchup offers a cinematic face-off between all-time greats LeBron James and Steph Curry.
It’s safe to say that Hanukkah came early for NBA Commissioner Adam Silver, who is no doubt pleased with the big market matchups. And since the NBA Finals run through mid-June, the oil isn’t running out anytime soon.
How Arnold Horween changed Harvard — and America
The new book “Dyed in Crimson” shares the story of Harvard football captain and coach Arnold Horween, right, shown here with his brother Ralph. (Book cover courtesy of Zev Eleff, Horween photo via Wikimedia Commons)
The 1920s were not an easy time for American Jews.
But over in Harvard Yard, one unsung Jewish hero was quietly changing the culture of American sports.
Arnold Horween, a burly Chicagoan and the son of Jewish immigrants from Ukraine, was unanimously selected as the captain of the Harvard Crimson football team in 1920, and after a few years playing and coaching in the NFL, he would return to Harvard as head coach in 1926.
“In American Jewish culture, the only thing greater than being the captain of the Harvard Crimson, the only higher station in American culture might have been the president, or the coach of Harvard, which he eventually becomes,” said Zev Eleff, the president of Gratz College and a scholar of American Jewish history.
Eleff explored Horween’s story and its impact in his recent book, “Dyed in Crimson: Football, Faith, and Remaking Harvard’s America.” He traces the history of Harvard athletics in the early 1900s, exploring how Horween altered the landscape of America’s most prestigious college.
EASY, YEEZY. Months after Adidas cut ties with rapper Kanye West over his antisemitic tirades, the sportswear company has finally decided what to do with its enormous stockpile of West’s signature Yeezy shoes. Adidas said it would sell the parts and donate the proceeds to charity, including organizations “that were also hurt by Kanye’s statements.”
GET YOUR HOT DOGS HERE. Wrigley Field vendor Jonah Fialkow, or @JewishJonah as he’s known on TikTok, has attracted a large following with his videos sharing his experience selling food at one of sports’ most iconic venues. Fialkow caught up with the Canadian Jewish News’ Menschwarmers podcast to talk baseball, hot dogs and Jews.
KVELLING. The New Jersey Devils were eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs on Thursday, ending an exciting season for Jack and Luke Hughes. On Sunday night, Luke made his playoffs debut, tallying two assists, while Jack scored two goals and had two assists of his own. Though their season is over, the Hughes brothers’ future is bright — Jack is 21 and Luke is 19.
A day to remember for the Hughes’ Family
Luke Hughes makes his playoff debut Luke Hughes with two assists Jack Hughes with two goals and two assists pic.twitter.com/XKCFFbroQE
OUCH. This hasn’t been Max Fried’s season. After getting bested by Dean Kremer last week, Fried landed on the injured list for the second time this season — and this time he could be out a while. With Fried and Atlanta Braves pitcher Kyle Wright both hurt, prospect Jared Shuster may get another chance in the big leagues.
BALL SHEM TOV. The haredi world’s annual Adirei HaTorah event, which draws thousands of men for a night of music and prayer, is set for June 4 at Wells Fargo Arena in Philadelphia. There’s just one problem: that’s the date of Game 2 of the NBA Finals, meaning if the 76ers advance, the event may need to find a new home. The Forward has more on the story.
Israel returns to a soccer World Cup, hoping for a second goal
Oscar Gloukh is a member of Israel’s Under 20 national soccer team. (Wikimedia Commons)
After 52 years, an Israeli national team will participate in a soccer World Cup organized by FIFA, the global soccer government body.
Israel participated in only one major World Cup, the 1970 tournament in Mexico. But this month, the Israeli youth team will participate for the first time in the Under 20 Cup in Argentina — in the land of global superstar Lionel Messi.
Led by manager Ofir Haim, the team will face Colombia on May 21 and Senegal on May 24, both in La Plata City, the capital of Buenos Aires Province (35 miles south of the city of Buenos Aires). Then the team will travel almost 700 miles northwest to theMendoza province — home to the iconic wine — to play against Japan. The tournament has six groups composed of four teams each. After the first three matches, the best two of each group will qualify for the next stage.
Could Israel score another goal at a World Cup? Their only previous one at a FIFA tournament was made by Mordechai “Motaleh” Spiegler against Sweden. This month, Israeli players — especially the top scorer Oscar Gloukh — will have another chance to score.
– Juan Melamed
Jews in sports to watch this weekend
IN HOCKEY…
Zach Hyman and the Edmonton Oilers face the Vegas Golden Knights in a pivotal Game 5 tonight at 10 p.m. ET. Game 6 will be Sunday.
IN BASEBALL…
The story of the young MLB season is the dominance of the AL East. The Baltimore Orioles have gotten off to an excellent 24-13 start, with help from Dean Kremer’s strong performance. On Wednesday night, he led them to a 2-1 victory over the first-place Tampa Bay Rays. The surging Boston Red Sox have turned things around after a slow start, and now sit in third place. Sox reliever Richard Bleier has struggled out of the gate, allowing 15 hits and 10 runs in 15 innings — but I’ll be at Fenway on Friday night to see the Team Israel veteran in action. The New York Yankees are in last place, but outfielder Harrison Bader is crushing it in his first nine games back, hitting .400 with 12 hits, three homers and 11 RBIs.
IN SOCCER…
Manor Solomon and Fulham F.C. host Southampton tomorrow at 10 a.m. ET.
Jews on first
In just six weeks, 14 Jewish players have already appeared in the MLB this season, after Chicago Cubs prospect Matt Mervis made his debut last Friday. According to Jewish Baseball News, another 15 Jewish players are currently in Triple-A, almost all of whom played for Team Israel.
Who do you think will be the next Jewish player to make his MLB debut? Email us at sports@jta.org to share your guess, and we’ll keep an eye out for the winner.
A little‑remembered Gilded Age millionaire helped make milk safe for American kids through his ‘retail giving’
The 1844 edition of the widely used schoolbook written by William H. McGuffey, “Newly Revised Eclectic Fourth Reader,” includes a dialogue about the difference between “true and false philanthropy”:
Mr. Fantom: I despise a narrow field. O for the reign of universal benevolence! I want to make all mankind good and happy.
Mr. Goodman: Dear me! Sure, that must be a wholesale sort of a job: had you not better try your hand at a town or neighborhood first?
As the discussion continues, the lesson becomes clear. Mr. Fantom’s approach is too ambitious to accomplish much, while Mr. Goodman’s, if narrower in scope, was likely to be more useful in practice.
Nathan Straus made his mark in philanthropy after a successful career running the Macy’s department store. Library of Congress Image by
Many of Straus’ contemporary philanthropists were setting lofty goals for their giving. In oil magnate John D. Rockefeller’s case, it was promoting “the welfare of humanity throughout the world.” For steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie, it was “to promote the advancement and diffusion of knowledge and understanding.”
Straus pursued more mundane objectives that included championing milk pasteurization. Although his efforts are not as well known today as those of his more ambitious – and wealthier – counterparts, they accomplished a lot and showed that what might be called “retail giving” can have far-reaching effects.
Successful immigration story
The Straus family came to the United States from Germany in the 1850s during the first big wave of Jewish immigration. Lazarus Straus, Nathan’s father, followed a familiar path for Jewish immigrants at the time, beginning as a peddler and eventually establishing his own store in the small town of Talbotton, Georgia, where the members of his family were the only Jews.
He prospered, became a respected citizen and saw that his children received good educations, including in their religion.
Then the Civil War upended the family’s life, first by reviving antisemitic prejudices and then, eventually, by destroying the family’s business.
Starting anew in New York City, Lazarus and his older sons, Isidor and Nathan, began to sell imported china, glassware and other crockery to retailers in the Northeast and South. One was Rowland H. Macy, who had founded an eponymous store that was on the cutting edge of what Fisher calls a “retailing revolution.”
Macy’s innovations included stocking large inventories of many kinds of merchandise, competitive pricing, extensive advertising and providing a variety of services like public restrooms and a cafeteria to make shoppers’ experiences more pleasurable.
Aided by the rapid urban and economic growth of the late 19th century, the model flourished. Department stores displaced smaller, specialty shops. Other retail powerhouses, such as Bloomingdale’s and Lord & Taylor, soon competed with Macy’s.
The Straus family sold their wares at Macy’s. After Rowland H. Macy died, the Straus family became partners with its new owners. By 1896, the Strauses owned the store outright. And Macy’s was expanding: It bought another department store in Brooklyn and created a flagship building on Manhattan’s Herald Square, which Macy’s still occupies.
The landmark Macy’s department store in New York’s Herald Square opened in 1902 while Nathan and Isidor Straus ran the retailer. Library of Congress Image by
His philanthropy journey begins
While Isidor Straus oversaw the store’s internal operations, Nathan focused on the company’s external activities, such as purchasing, marketing and dealing with government and business leaders.
A third brother, Oscar, pursued a career as a politician and diplomat, eventually becoming secretary of commerce and labor under President Theodore Roosevelt and the first Jewish member of a presidential cabinet. Perhaps inevitably, this led to a series of public appointments for Nathan Straus.
However, as they became wealthier, Nathan and his wife, Lina, increasingly devoted their attention to a series of philanthropic projects.
In 1893, the U.S. entered a four-year economic depression, its worst until the 1930s. As unemployment in New York City rose, Nathan Straus used his merchandising skills to address the needs of the jobless and poor.
He created a number of “depots” near tenements and boarding houses that sold coal, food and fuel at discount prices. Fisher, Straus’ biographer, rightly calls these early examples of what is now known as “social entrepreneurship”: the application of business principles to solving social problems.
Making milk less deadly
As these efforts were getting away, Straus also launched what would become his major preoccupation: promoting pasteurized milk.
In New York City in the early 1890s, Fisher writes, “the annual mortality rate among children under five was about 15 percent,” or 18,000 infants and toddlers per year. A main cause was consuming raw milk, which, unless certified by inspectors, was likely not only to contain a variety of pathogens, such as tuberculosis bacteria, but spoil easily going from farm to table.
Although scientists had long known that heating could make milk safer, doctors and public health officials worried that sterilizing milk might also destroy its valuable nutrients.
Straus, who had lost one of his own children to what he believed was a milk-borne infection, built on his projects for the unemployed by working with New York social service agencies to develop pasteurization plants and infant-milk stations near low-income neighborhoods.
They sold sterilized and refrigerated milk at below-wholesale prices, or donated it to those who could not afford to pay. Businesslike efficiency kept costs low, as did donations. Multilingual ads publicized the product’s availability, doctors and nurses advised parents on child-rearing, and careful recordkeeping aimed at assessing the program’s health benefits.
Straus and his wife devoted much of their time and money to this work. In addition to establishing 297 milk stations in 36 cities, they also spoke and wrote widely about the merits of pasteurization.
By 1908, their efforts paid off when the U.S. Public Health Service endorsed pasteurization and state and local governments began requiring that milk sold in their jurisdictions be pasteurized. Raw milk remained available in many states, and debates over its safety continue to this day.
As a result of this and other Progressive Era measures, New York City’s health commissioner estimated that infant deaths dropped by two-thirds
during the first two decades of the 20th century, with similar declines elsewhere in the country.
The coastal Israeli city of Netanya was named after philanthropist Nathan Straus. Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images Image by
Other causes
While most of Nathan Straus’ efforts occurred in the U.S., he used his trips to Europe for Macy’s to promote pasteurization on the continent.
During a 1904 visit, he toured the Mediterranean and stopped in Palestine, then part of the Ottoman Empire. Impressed by the early Jewish settlements and holy sites he saw, Straus became an ardent advocate for creating a Jewish homeland in the Middle East, an unusual position for a Jewish businessman of that era, according to Fisher.
On a subsequent trip, a broken leg kept Straus from returning to New York on the maiden voyage of the Titanic; his brother Isidor and sister-in-law Ida were not so fortunate.
In the U.S., Nathan Straus led Zionist organizations, while in Palestine, his chief contributions involved supporting a variety of health care and economic development activities, including Hadassah, the women’s health and community development organization founded by Henrietta Szold.
Nathan Straus’ achievements as a philanthropist are not widely known today because he did not create a grantmaking foundation that outlasted him, as Rockefeller and Carnegie did.
Instead, by the time of his death in 1931, Straus had donated much of his fortune. Fisher writes that Straus used to invoke an old Hebrew proverb: “Money given in health is gold. Money given in sickness is silver. Money given after death is lead.”
He also didn’t donate heavily to the burgeoning network of communal organizations set up to assist the growing population of Jewish immigrants, as did the financiers Jacob Schiff and Felix Warburg, who were also affluent Jewish immigrants from Germany.
As Fisher notes, this pattern of philanthropy resembles that of Straus’ friend – and pallbearer – Julius Rosenwald, the longtime head of Sears, Roebuck and Co. Both supported Jewish causes as well as major initiatives aimed at helping others: In Rosenwald’s case, it was schools for African American children in the South, while for Straus, it was milk pasteurization in New York City and beyond.
During and after World War I, they worked together to assist Jewish refugees in Europe. Fisher might have added that neither Straus nor Rosenwald sought much recognition for their work.
His thorough account should help give Straus the credit he deserves for his philanthropy. It should also show that donors do not have to aspire to “make all mankind good and happy” to make an important difference.
In many ways, Nathan Straus was an old-fashioned do-gooder, responding to the needs he saw with innovative solutions. As a result, he wound up accomplishing a lot of good.
“Emma,” a young Jewish woman who we met in 2019, didn’t belong to a synagogue. She didn’t have a Jewish partner. She didn’t observe Jewish rituals regularly. On most surveys about religion, she would not seem very engaged with Judaism.
But as Emma talked about what she did in her free time, a very different picture began to emerge. She visited Jewish websites and enjoyed listening to Jewish music. She read books about Jewish topics and had recently attended a retreat for young Jewish adults to learn Torah while also doing yoga.
She was highly invested in learning about Judaism, but she explored her identity without joining traditional institutions.
Most major surveys about religion ask whether someone belongs to a congregation, how often they attend services, whether they pray regularly and whether belief is important in their lives. Those measures help identify broad shifts, like the growing percentage of Americans who are religiously unaffiliated: the “nones.”
But many Americans’ religious lives, like Emma’s, are not disappearing; they are moving away from membership of traditional institutions. To understand what religion looks like in 21st-century America, researchers may need to ask different questions.
Learning through art
As scholars of Judaismand education, we have been exploring how people learn about religion beyond traditional places like synagogues, Jewish schools and summer camps. Between 2019 and early 2023, we spoke with hundreds of people and explored different leisure time activities to discover what people learn about Judaism and Jewishness through cultural arts.
We interviewed dozens of audience members at Jewish-themed shows on Broadway, such as “Leopoldstadt”and “Parade.” We attended Jewish concerts and asked attendees what they learned. We explored how social media communities offer spaces to talk about different Jewish topics, like what fans learned about ultra-Orthodox Judaism from watching the television show “Shtisel.”
‘Shtisel,’ an Israeli series about an ultra-Orthodox family in Jerusalem, ran for three seasons.
Our research revealed that there is a vibrant ecosystem of people learning about religion in their leisure time. Through the arts, both Jews and non-Jews encounter Jewish history, Jewish religious practices and representations of Jewish communities.
Screen and stage
Most people we spoke with told us that they felt meaningful connections to Judaism during activities that would rarely appear on a standard religion survey.
“Joan,” an unmarried woman in her 50s from Connecticut, told us that she was deeply invested in Judaism, but felt that synagogues and Jewish community centers were not welcoming to single people without families. Instead of joining a Jewish institution, she watched Jewish-themed TV shows and movies on Netflix, and joined social media communities to chat with other fans.
“Luis,” who lived in Boston but was born in Argentina, was a Sephardic Jew, a group that traces their ancestry and traditions to Jewish communities who once lived in Spain and Portugal. His wife was Ashkenazi, meaning her ancestors came from Central and Eastern Europe. She considered herself secular, and so the couple joined the Worker’s Circle, a nonreligious Ashkenazi institution rather than a synagogue.
Yet Luis loved deepening his knowledge of Sephardic culture, and he often attended concerts of music in Ladino, a Sephardic language related to Spanish, with other Sephardic immigrants.
American singer Sarah Aroeste writes and performs in Ladino.
For Joan and Luis, these activities were not peripheral to their Jewish lives. Rather, they were central avenues for learning and community. We interviewed hundreds of Jews who told us that cultural experiences were opportunities to reflect on Jewish practices, explore questions of belonging, connect with family histories and find friends with common interests.
New questions
Some aspects of these patterns were distinctive to Judaism. Historically, many Jews have understood Judaism to be a cultural world, and not only a theological tradition. Learning about cultural dimensions of Judaism has long been part of Jewish education.
The broader phenomenon of informal learning, though, extended far beyond a single tradition. Across America, increasing numbers of people learn about religion through media, cultural productions and digital networks. Christians may study biblical themes through podcasts, online discussion groups or religious influencers. Muslims may participate in online learning communities that connect believers across the world.
The challenge for religion researchers, then, is not simply to determine whether engagement with religion is rising or falling. Rather, it is to develop more nuanced ways of understanding how people explore religious themes and practices, beyond traditional institutions. Only then can we more fully understand how contemporary Americans actually live their religious lives.
