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A new photo book celebrates the very Jewish cafeteria culture of a vanished New York
(New York Jewish Week) – Back in 1975, Marcia Bricker Halperin had just graduated from Brooklyn College with the dream of becoming a professional photographer when she stepped into the Flatbush outpost of Dubrow’s, a cafeteria-style restaurant, for a warm cup of coffee.
It was there that inspiration hit. “I was wonderstruck,” Halperin writes in the introduction to her new book of photographs, “Kibbitz & Nosh: When We All Met at Dubrow’s Cafeteria,” describing the “cavernous” space with mirrored walls and a mosaic fountain. “It was the most idiosyncratic room I had ever seen.”
“I sensed it was a vanishing world on its last legs, and that impelled me to document it,” she continues. “On many visits, the tables were empty, sans a painterly still life of condiment bottles and jars in the morning light. I also perceived cafeterias as places that embodied a secular Jewish culture, something that was of great interest to me.”
“I attended a lecture by Isaac Bashevis Singer, who was billed as an “Outstanding Anglo -Yiddish” author, at the Brooklyn Jewish Center on Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights,” Bricker Halperin writes in the introduction. “I adored his short stories, many of which were set in cafeterias, and I regret never finding the nerve that day to tell him about my own cafeterianiks.” (Marcia Bricker Halperin)
Halperin was prescient: She started photographing these once-ubiquitous eateries one decade before the final Dubrow’s location in the Garment District would close in 1985. The chain’s first location was founded in 1929 on the Lower East Side by Benjamin Dubrow, a Jewish immigrant from Minsk. By the mid-twentieth century, the family-owned company expanded throughout Brooklyn, Manhattan and Miami Beach, with ownership passing to the second generation, and then to the third. In Dubrow’s prime, a stop at one of the cafeterias was practically required for politicians such as John F. Kennedy and Jimmy Carter.
Nearly 50 years after her first visit, Halperin’s new book is a tribute to this now-defunct New York City cafeteria culture and the characters she met during the five years she regularly photographed there. The compelling 152-page book features her original black-and-white photos along with essays from Pulitzer Prize–winning playwright Donald Margulies and Jewish American historian Deborah Dash Moore.
“Although Jews were not the only ones to patronize cafeterias, they preferred them as inexpensive places to hang out to bars, which often attracted an Irish immigrant or working-class clientele,” Moore writes in her essay, titled “See You at Dubrow’s.” “By the 1930s, cafeterias were part of the fabric of Jewish neighborhood life in New York City, a welcome alternative for socializing to cramped apartments, street corners, or candy stores.”
Now living in Park Slope and retired from a career as a special education teacher, Halperin talked with the New York Jewish Week about the city’s lost cafeteria culture and what inspired her to capture it with her camera.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
New York Jewish Week: You took these photos nearly 50 years ago. What made you decide to publish them now?
Marcia Bricker Halperin: In the 1970s, there was such good feedback on the work. I was given a show, I was collected by a few people, I had a photo in The New York Times. People wrote me letters in the mail: “Ms. Bricker, I’m interested in buying one of your photos.” At the time, I was in a project called the CETA artists project, a federally funded arts project in the ’70s where I was paid to be a photographer. It was very much like the [Depression-era] WPA project, but one of the great differences with the CETA project was anything you shot, you owned.
So I continued photographing changing New York during those years — some of it by assignment for nonprofit organizations that I worked with, like the Jewish Museum and an organization in Brighton Beach that was resettling the Soviet Jews that were arriving in the ’70s. They wanted photographs to help both the Soviet Jews understand American life and the old Jewish population in Brighton Beach understand Russian life. What a great opportunity!
I was going to be an artist and I did adjunct teaching and different things to make it work. I kind of fell into teaching high school photography and then, from there, I fell into teaching special education — that took over. Thirty-five years later, I retired from teaching. The day after I retired, I took out my negatives and my photography stuff and bought a scanner and all kinds of printers and things.
So, I was a photographer once upon a time and then taught for many years and, overnight, I became one once again.
A man reads the Forvertz newspaper in Yiddish. (Marcia Bricker Halperin)
How did it feel to see these photos again? Had you developed any of them before?
Yes, I printed quite a few of them then. I worked as a darkroom lab technician, so I had an opportunity in the ’70s to do a lot of silver gelatin prints. I would bring in a thick envelope of the imperfect prints to the cafeteria and at that point, everybody knew me. I gave out portraits to people. If I hadn’t shot them, they would gather around me asking: “Do you have my picture? Did you print it?” Especially the staff — there was a very international cohort of people working there and they all wanted pictures to send home to their families.
After that, the pictures lay fallow for all these years. I protected them and stored them very carefully. When I had the opportunity to come back and put together a sample book, I started looking through the negatives and I said, “Oh, my God, I don’t remember that picture.” It was a time warp to see some of these photos taken in the 1970s. In Manhattan, the ’60s had happened, but Flatbush in Brooklyn was the “Old Country.” It hung onto the past for a while and some women dressed like they were still in the 1950s.
Dubrow’s Cafeteria, Kings’s Highway 1975. The photographer appears in the top left corner. (Marcia Bricker Halperin)
Dubrow’s closed just ten years after you started shooting there. Could you feel at the time that cafeteria culture was ending?
I kept a journal at the time. When I went back 42 years later to look at it, I had written: “One day I’m going to show up here and this is going to be closed.”
There were other cafeterias in Manhattan and the Bronx and they had all closed. I’ve collected like every article ever written about cafeterias, and there’s one from 1973: “Are cafeterias going to be gone?” So it was fairly well known that this was a vanishing kind of establishment in New York. The automats ceased having the little boxes, Burger King bought them out, they tried to modernize and it got pretty sad. Sometimes during the day, the huge cafeteria would be empty and people would say, “This business can’t survive.” So I knew I was photographing in the vein of needing to document the things that are there and will be gone. It was one of the things that propelled me to get out there and photograph.
Today, things are different. There’s food courts and wonderful little coffee places. There are many businesses, especially here in Brooklyn, trying to perpetuate “grandmother foods” and there are restaurants that are serving “reinvented Jewish-style foods.” So there are some continuations, but in terms of the huge, opulent cafeteria spaces — grand professional murals, intricate woodworking, food with a crazy amount of preparation, 300 items, 30 different cakes — no restaurant could possibly survive like that. The only thing that still exists are my photos of them.
Men and women converse around empty tables at Dubrow’s on Kings Highway. (Marcia Bricker Halperin)
What was the Jewish culture of Dubrow’s and Flatbush like at the time?
Growing up, we went to a little old “Conservadox” synagogue. We were the kind of family where my mother kept a kosher kitchen at home, but on Sunday nights we’d go out to the Chinese restaurant. Dubrow’s menu was “Jewish-style” but it was also a place you could go out and have your first shrimp salad sandwich, which became their most popular food. They were famous for shrimp salad!
These cafeterias were all started by Jewish immigrants. But they were democratic for everyone — there was ham on the menu, shrimp. You could choose whether to have just meat or have a meat meal and then have a cream pie for dessert. That was your choice. With cafeteria-style, like religion, you pick and choose what you want and what you want to observe.
When I would go there, all the older people would ask: “Are you Jewish? You don’t look Jewish.” I’d say,“I’m Jewish. I know a few words of Yiddish, my parents speak Yiddish at home.” They would be satisfied with that. There was this sense that it was a club a little bit, it was a Jewish establishment. Not that everybody wasn’t welcome, and everybody socialized with everyone else.
Socializing was a big thing there, not necessarily eating. Many of my pictures are people sitting around — sometimes it’s a coffee cup on the table, most of the time the table is empty. They were there to meet their friends and talk. Some people said it replaced the synagogues. The old men would go to Dubrow’s and have a cup of coffee with their friends in the morning and gossip and talk.
“Kibbitz & Nosh: When We All Met at Dubrow’s Cafeteria” will be published on May 15, 2023. The photos are on exhibit at the Edward Hopper House in Nyack, New York through June 25.
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The post A new photo book celebrates the very Jewish cafeteria culture of a vanished New York appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Why Mamdani remains focused on Israel as NYC mayor
When Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu spoke at the UN this week, New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani was there — not in body, but in spirit, having condemned the Israeli prime minister and previously encouraged protests against him.
As a leader in the Jewish community, I know that many American Jews oppose Netanyahu’s government. But many also believe strongly that Israel’s survival as a Jewish homeland is critically important. They, therefore, feel boxed in by the mayor: compelled by conscience to oppose Israel’s leader and to condemn Mamdani’s repeated attacks on Israel’s existence, many of which they find offensive and dangerous.
Because of my previous work for Mayor Bloomberg, I am often asked by Jewish community members why this mayor so frequently puts them in this painful bind. The answer, I believe, lies in motivations worth understanding more clearly.
Of course, Mamdani’s focus on Israel seems partially motivated by principle. He clearly thinks Israel is illegitimate and opposes how it defends itself. I take him at his word that these convictions are sincere. But sincerity still does not explain his single-mindedness. A mayor willing to absorb this much political friction must see some benefit. But what?
To understand, let’s reexamine the 2025 election, often described as a “political tsunami.” The facts, however, are more complicated. Mamdani did defeat his closest opponent by nearly 10%, but in so doing he secured under 51% of the total vote – against a flawed and divided opposition. Viewed this way, his impressive margin seems less sweeping and much narrower.
More important than his electoral margin, though, is the coalition that produced it. His victory rested heavily on three blocs: self-identified very liberal voters; and Muslim and South Asian voters, who turned out in historic numbers. South Asian and Indo-Caribbean turnout, for example, rose 350% between 2021 and 2025, with 87% of South Asian votes going to Mamdani. Analyzing available data, I believe that, taken together, these three blocs accounted for well over 50% of all Mamdani votes.
What makes this coalition intriguing is that it consists of such strange bedfellows. The blocs differ sharply on many key local issues. On same-sex marriage, PRRI’s American Values Atlas found 33% support among Muslim-Americans in 2024, with support among very liberal Americans substantially higher. The divergence is similarly stark on policing, education, and many other policies.
In fact, it is hard to identify many things uniting these blocs besides this candidate: a skilled politician speaking the language of the left, while activating Muslim and South Asian voters just as Mayors Bloomberg and Koch activated Jewish voters and Mayors Adams and Dinkins activated Black voters.
Which brings us back to Israel.
When one barely ekes out a majority against flawed opponents, and one’s coalition is fundamentally misaligned, one must find ways to hold it together. To this end, Mamdani seems to be taking a page from Donald Trump. When Trump’s coalition buckles, he reaches for a “shiny distraction” — attacks on the press; trade wars; threatened invasions of Greenland. For Trump, the specifics are almost irrelevant; what matters is the theater of conflict and the distraction it produces.
For Mamdani, his Greenland is Israel.
Yes, it is a subject on which he holds sincere convictions. But, more importantly, it is one of few issues on which his coalition agrees. His relentless focus on Israel — to the exclusion of other worthy targets, including grave human rights offenders across South Asia and the Muslim world — is no accident. It is a political calculation allowing him to don the mantle of moral crusader while keeping his coalition on-side and united.
For those who believe Mamdani’s politics pose a danger to the Jewish community and want to slow his political momentum, this analysis yields two insights.
First, trying to persuade the mayor to soften his Israel attacks is unlikely to succeed. Doing so is not his inclination or in his political interests.
Second, and maybe more interestingly, Mamdani has a vulnerability that he seems to recognize – a fragile coalition. Allowing Mamdani to
make Israel his “shiny distraction” and engaging him on it plays his game. A different approach would be to defend Israel as-needed, but focusing efforts on pressing Mamdani to do his job – for example, elevating important issues, such as specialized high school admissions practices, on which his coalition happens to be divided.
The upshot? When smart politicians do things that seem politically risky, they usually see something others do not. Mamdani’s Israel focus offers a case-in-point. Those looking to respond should consider resisting the temptation to take the bait when possible. The wiser strategy is to engage under different rules: defending Israel when necessary, then pivoting to the difficult local issues from which Israel is meant to distract.
The post Why Mamdani remains focused on Israel as NYC mayor appeared first on The Forward.
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New voices in Yiddish: A prose and poetry contest
לכּבֿוד דעם 85סטן יאָר זינט מע האָט פֿאַרלייגט דעם ייִדישן זשורנאַל „אױפֿן שװעל“, וועט די אָרגאַניזאַציע וואָס שטיצט דעם זשורנאַל, די „ייִדיש־ליגע“, דורכפֿירן אַ קאָנקורס פֿון נײַע ייִדיש־שפּראַכיקע לידער און פּראָזע.
אַ זשורי פֿון אָפּגעקליבענע מומחים וועט אָפּשאַצן די אַרבעטן, און די דרײַ בעסטע פֿון ביידע קאַטעגאָריעס וועלן באַלוינט ווערן מיט געלטפּרעמיעס.
די פּראָזע־שאַפֿונגען קענען זײַן ביז 2,500 װערטער, און אַלע אַרײַנגעשיקטע מאַטעריאַלן מוזן זײַן נאָך נישט קיין געדרוקטע. דער טערמין אַרײַנצושיקן די שריפֿטן איז דער 31סטער אָקטאָבער 2026.
די געווינער-ווערק, און בכלל אַן אָפּקלײַב פֿון די אַרײַנגעשיקטע שאַפֿונגען, וועט מען אויך דרוקן אין דעם יובֿל-נומער. „זאָלן אונדזערע לייענערס געניסן פֿון נײַע ליטעראַרישע שאַפֿונגען אויף מאַמע-לשון!“ האָט די שעף־רעדאַקטאָרין פֿון „אויפֿן שוועל“, מרים טרין, געזאָגט.
די שריפֿטן שיקן מען דורך בליצפּאָסט צו info@leagueforyiddish.org.
The post New voices in Yiddish: A prose and poetry contest appeared first on The Forward.
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Jewish languages meet in Birobidzhan
אויף אַן אינטערנאַציאָנאַלן ייִדישן קולטור־פֿעסטיוואַל לעצטנס אין ביראָבידזשאַן האָט מיך, ווי אַ ייִדישיסט, באַזונדערס פֿאַרחידושט די אינערלעכע ייִדישע פֿיל־שפּראַכיקייט.
דער „אינטערנאַציאָנאַלער פֿעסטיוואַל פֿון ייִדישער קולטור און קונסט“ איז פֿאָרגעקומען פֿונעם 6טן ביזן 9טן סעפּטעמבער.
מיט איינעם פֿון די געסט, הרבֿ עובֿדיה איסאַקאָוו, האָב איך לאַנג געשמועסט וועגן זײַן אייגענער ייִדישער שפּראַך — דזשוהורי, אַ שפּראַך ענלעך אויף פּערסיש. מיט אַנדערע געסט, דרײַ טוניסער ייִדן, וואָס וווינען אין ישׂראל, האָבן מיר גערעדט וועגן זייער מאַמע־לשון, אַ ייִדישן מין אַראַביש. דערצו האָט אַ זינגער און כּלל־טוער, אליעזר (איגאָר) דאַבאַקאַראָו, מיר געזאָגט אַז ער איז אויפֿגעוואַקסן אין סאַמאַרקאַנד, אוזבעקיסטאַן, רעדנדיק אויף בוכאָרי — פּערסיש מיט אַ ייִדישן טעם.
אויף עטלעכע אונטערנעמונגען האָט מען אויך געזונגען לידער אויף העברעיִש. בעת דער שבתדיקער סעודה (כ׳בין אָנגעקומען מיט עטלעכע אַנדערע געסט פֿון פֿריִער, ערבֿ־שבת) האָבן מיר אַרומגערעדט די קשיא, צי איז לשון־קודש אָדער דער מאָדערנער העברעיִש באמת אַ ייִדישע שפּראַך? דער ביראָבידזשאַנער הויפּט־רבֿ אפֿרים קאָלפּאַק, אַ ליובאַוויטשער חסיד, האַלט, אַז נישט. לשון־קודש איז, לויט אים, די געטלעכע שפּראַך, דורך וועלכן דער רבונו־של־עולם האָט באַשאַפֿן די וועלט איידער דער ערשטער ייִד, אַבֿרהם אָבֿינו, איז געבוירן געוואָרן. אַזוי איז די מעשׂה לויט דער ייִדישער מסורה.
די עכטע ייִדישע שפּראַך, אויף וועלכער ייִדן האָבן גערעדט טאָג און נאַכט במשך פֿון דור צו דור, די שפּראַך פֿון די גרעסטע צדיקים און קדושים, איז דווקא ייִדיש. איך בין מסכּים דערמיט, נאָר, פֿאַרשטייט זיך, אַ סך מענטשן האַלטן אַנדערש.
דער ערשטער פֿעסטיוואַל פֿון דעם מין איז אָרגאַניזירט געוואָרן נאָך אין דער סאָוועטישער תּקופֿה, אין 1989; דערנאָך, מיט איבעררײַסן — יעדע צוויי יאָר. דער 13טער אינטערנאַציאָנאַלער פֿעסטיוואַל פֿון ייִדישער קולטור און קונסט איז פֿאָרגעקומען אין 2017. זינט דעמאָלט און ביז איצט האָט מען אים, צוליב פֿאַרשיידענע שוועריקייטן, נישט געקאָנט אָרגאַניזירן.
להיפּוך, האָט די איצטיקע אונטערנעמונג געשטעלט דעם טראָפּ אויף ייִדן אַרום דער וועלט בכלל, אויף פֿאַרשיידענע ייִדישע עדות, לאַוו־דווקא ייִדיש־רעדנדיקע אַשכּנזים. די אויסלענדישע געסט זענען געקומען פֿון ווײַסרוסלאַנד, מדינת־ישׂראל און כינע. ווי געזאָגט, זענען דרײַ פֿון די ישׂראלדיקע באַטייליקטע געבוירן געוואָרן אין טוניס. דערפֿאַר קאָן מען זאָגן, אַז צפֿון־אַפֿריקע איז אויך געווען פֿאָרגעשטעלט.
בסך־הכּל האָט מען דורכגעפֿירט 160 אונטערנעמונגען, על־פּי רובֿ גאַנץ קליינע, און עטלעכע גרויס־מאַסשטאַביקע. צוליב דעם גוטן וואַרעמען וועטער, איז דער אומזיסטער שלוס־קאָנצערט, וווּ ס׳איז אַרויסגעטראָטן דער באַקאַנטער מאָסקווער כאָר בראָש מיט מיכאַיִל טורעצקי, פֿאָרגעקומען אין דרויסן, אויף אַ פּלאַץ לעבן דעם ברעג פֿונעם טײַך ביראַ.
אומגעוויינטלעך איז געווען דאָס פֿאַרזוכן די גרעסטע חלה אין דער וועלט — איבער 12 מעטער (40 פֿוס) די לענג — וואָס די אָרטיקע קולינאַרן האָבן קונציק אויסגעבאַקן אונטער דער השגחה פֿון הרבֿ קאָלפּאַק. צווישן קליינע און פּשוטע אונטערנעמונגען איז געווען אַ וואַרשטאַט ווי צו שרײַבן די ייִדישע אותיות. די הויפּט־רעדאַקטאָרין פֿון „ביראָבידזשאַנער שטערן‟, יעלענע סאַראַשעווסקאַיאַ, האָט מיך געבעטן איר מיטצוהעלפֿן. זי האָט צוגעטראַכט אַ ספּעציעלן פּלאַסטיק־טראַפֿאַרעט (שטענצל־אותיות) מיטן ייִדיש אַלף־בית, טאַקע לויט די ייִוואָ־תּקנות: מיט אַ קמף אונטערן אַלף, צוויי יודן מיט אַ פּתח אאַז״וו), וואָס דערמעגלעכט אָפּצוצייכענען יעדן אות אויף אַ גרינגן אופֿן. זענען מיר געזעסן אין דרויסן מיט אַ טישל און געוויזן יעדן נײַגעריקן פֿאַרבײַגייער, ווי אַזוי עס שרײַבן זיך אויף ייִדיש זייערע נעמען צי אַנדערע פֿראַזעס.
די אַטמאָספֿער איז געווען אַ לוסטיקע און אומפֿאָרמעלע. עטלעכע געסט האָט פֿאַרחידושט די אַלטע סאָוועטישע אַוואַנגאַרד־אַרכיטעקטור, וועלכער ס׳איז טאַקע געווידמעט אַ נײַ בוך, וואָס מע האָט אויך פּרעזענטירט אויפֿן פֿעסטיוואַל. אין דער זעלבער צײַט, איז אין דער שטאָט פֿאָרגעקומען אַ באַשיידענע פּאַראַלעלע אונטערנעמונג: דער פֿעסיטיוואַל פֿון ייִדישע באָבעס — מיט אויסשטעלונגען, פֿאַרמעסטן, קאָנצערטן, אַ יריד פֿון היימגעמאַכטע קליידער און אַנדערע חפֿצים.
וואָס שייך דער שפּראַך בוכאָרי, באַטראַכטן אַ סך בוכאַרישע ייִדן אין קווינס דאָס לשון ווי אַ באַזונדערע שפּראַך. במשך פֿון אַ סך יאָרן האָט מיטן פֿאָרווערטס מיטגעאַרבעט דער בוכאַרישער פֿאָטאָגראַף אַרקאַדי יאַגודאַיעוו, מיט וועלכן איך פֿלעג שמועסן וועגן זײַן מאַמע־לשון. בעצם איז זי סתּם פּערסיש, אָבער מיט אַ צאָל ספּעציפֿיש ייִדישע עלעמענטן.
אַן אַנדער מעשׂה איז דזשוהורי — די שפּראַך פֿון די קאַווקאַזישע באַרג־ייִדן, וואָס האָט אַן אָפֿיציעלן סטאַטוס אין דאַגעסטאַן, איינער פֿון די רוסלענדישע דרומדיקער ראַיאָנען. אָפֿיציעל הייסט ער טאַטיש, ווײַל לויט דער סאָוועטישער טערמינאָלאָגיע איז ער ענלעך אויפֿן מוסולמענישן לשון טאַטיש. דער חילוק צווישן דזשוהורי (וואָס מיינט „ייִדיש‟) און טאַטיש איז אָבער ממשותדיק, הגם נישט אַזוי גרויס, ווי צווישן ייִדיש און דײַטשיש. דאָס איז טאַקע אַ באַזונדער לשון מיט אַן אייגענער ליטעראַטור.
אין דער שטאָט דערבענט, פֿון וואַנען עס איז אָנגעקומען קיין ביראָבידזשאַן הרבֿ עובֿדיה איסאַקאָוו, גייט אַרויס די צוויי־שפּראַכיקע דזשהורי־רוסישע צײַטונג „וואַטאַן‟ („היימלאַנד‟). איסאַקאַוו איז אויך אַ שוחט, אַ מוהל און אַ באַגאַבטער מאָלער. אַן אויסשטעלונג פֿון זײַנע ווערק איז געווען א טייל פֿונעם פֿעסיטיוואַל. נאָך איין קאַווקאַזישער ייִד, אַלבערט ראַפֿיִעוו, האָט פֿאָרגעשטעלט זײַנע פּרעכטיקע מיזרחדיקע טעפּעכער מיט אַ ייִדישן טעם.
די אינערלעכע ייִדישע פֿאַרשיידנאַרטיקייט איז געווען, לויט מײַן מיינונג, דער וויכטיקסטער מאָמענט פֿון דער אונטערנעמונג. עטלעכע זאַכן וואָס ס׳איז כּדאַי צו דערמאָנען איז, אַז אין רוסלאַנד זענען פֿאַראַן צוויי אָפֿיציעל אָנערקענטע ייִדישע לשונות — ייִדיש און באַרג־ייִדיש (דזשוהורי); אַז אַ סך ספֿרדים רעדן נאָך אַלץ אויף לאַדינאָ אָדער ייִדיש־אַראַבישע דיאַלעקטן, און אַז בײַ די בוכאַרישע ייִדן איז פֿאַראַן אויך אַן אייגענער דיאַלעקט און אַ באַזונדערע קולטור.
בקיצור, ייִדן שטעלן מיט זיך פֿאָר נישט עפּעס אַ מאָנאָטאָנע מאַסע, נאָר אַ בונטן „מערבֿ־מיזרחדיקן‟ טעפּעך פֿון פֿאַרשיידענע עדות מיט זייערע אוניקאַלע לשונות און טראַדיציעס.
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