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How Arnold Horween, an unsung Jewish Harvard hero, changed American sports
(JTA) — Decades before Sandy Koufax sat out the first game of the 1965 World Series because it fell on Yom Kippur, and 18 years before Greenberg chased Babe Ruth’s single-season home run record in the late 1930s, a college athlete made some overlooked Jewish sports history.
Arnold Horween, a burly Chicagoan, became the first Jewish captain of the Harvard University football team in 1920 — an achievement that sent ripples through American culture.
Horween, who would later play and coach in the early years of what would become the NFL, was born to Jewish immigrants from Ukraine. He became a star player at Harvard, helping the Crimson go undefeated in both 1919 and 1920 after returning from serving in World War I. (His brother Ralph also played at Harvard and in the NFL, and they were the first and only Jewish brothers to play in the NFL until Geoff and Mitchell Schwartz.)
But it was Horween’s unanimous selection as the team’s captain, and more importantly, his appointment in 1926 as the team’s coach, that would prove unprecedented.
“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 explores Horween’s story and its impact in his recent book, “Dyed in Crimson: Football, Faith, and Remaking Harvard’s America,” released earlier this year. He traces the history of Harvard athletics in the early 1900s, exploring how Horween, along with Harvard’s first athletic director, Bill Bingham, altered the landscape of America’s most prestigious college.
Horween’s ascendance came at a time when Harvard instituted quotas to limit the number of Jewish and other minority students it accepted — a practice the school would employ throughout the 1920s and 30s. His story also took place amid a political landscape that featured the rise of Father Charles Coughlin, the antisemitic “radio priest,” and the reemergence of the Ku Klux Klan.
As Eleff underscores in the book, Horween did not fit the model of a “Boston Brahmin,” the class of elite, Christian, aspirationally manly men whose supremacy was unquestioned at Harvard Yard. Horween broke that mold, instead instilling a team culture where a love of the sport was almost as important as winning — the Ted Lasso effect, if you will.
“Dyed in Crimson” also uses early 20th century Harvard as an allegory for the broader theme of how sports can change society.
“The theme of the book, something that’s uniquely American, is how the periphery can influence the mainstream,” said Eleff. “How people on the sidelines can really make an influence.”
Eleff spoke to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency about how Horween’s story fits into the pantheon of Jewish American sports legends and what it says about Jews’ ability to succeed in America.
This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Let’s dig into Horween’s story. I liked the idea of him as like an earlier version of Koufax or a Greenberg, but to be honest, I had never heard of him. Why do you think his story isn’t as well known as other Jewish athletes?
I think it has everything to do with the emergence of Major League Baseball. College football was America’s sport in the 1910s and 1920s. It was a big money sport, when there was very little money outside of the New York Yankees. And I think that Horween’s star started to sort of decline with Harvard football, but also the emergence of other sports.
The other reason is because the idea of the Jewish ballplayer loomed large. The New York Giants, for decades, tried to identify a Jewish superstar. They actually passed on Greenberg. There was a thought after Greenberg that there was Jewish DNA for baseball, and the signing of Koufax was directly linked to this notion. It was this eugenics-like link that you need a Jewish ballplayer. For the Giants, it was ticket sales. So the commotion about Greenberg and Koufax is more about Jewish identity. And baseball is, as a professional sport in New York, Queens, Brooklyn, the Bronx, different than college football, particularly in New England at this time. Frankly, Jews lived near the Polo Grounds, they didn’t live near Harvard Yard.
Arnold Horween shown in The Baltimore Sun on November 16, 1927. (Wikimedia Commons)
For Horween, obviously he’s not at the level of a Greenberg or Koufax talent-wise, but he also didn’t seem to care as much personally about his Jewish identity. You write in the book that there were some Jews who took issue with the fact that Horween was not practicing, but there were also many Jews who were simply proud he was Jewish. What do you think about that dynamic?
There becomes a sort of disconnect between lived religion and the perception and what they come to represent — the mantle that they wear almost towers above the practice. Horween eschewed the opportunity to claim the mantle of Jewish leadership, Jewish celebrity. But we do see in its moment that he is the topic of rabbinic sermons, that The American Hebrew and other Jewish press are reporting on him. They are elated. In American Jewish culture, the only thing greater than being the captain of the Harvard Crimson — it’s hard for people to realize, but in the moment when they were part of the big three [alongside Princeton and Yale] — the only higher station in American culture might have been the president, or the coach of Harvard, which he eventually becomes.
One of the parts of this book that I enjoyed learning about is the extent to which college football in the early 20th century was all about honor, masculinity, gentlemanliness. And at the time, that kind of stands in contrast to how Jews were viewed — that Jews were not masculine, Jews couldn’t fit into that mold of the “Harvard man.”
Being on the sports team, that was probably far beyond Jewish expectations. Not to say that Jews could not be athletic, but very often the varsity players weren’t picked for their talent but rather their surnames. What the sea change at Harvard is, [within] gentlemanly culture — in which “gentlemanly” is a Protestant, Christian masculinity — Horween is not Protestant. What allows him a pathway into that elite group is that drive to win. And as a player, he’s good luck. He never loses. He becomes a signature player for victory who even wins the Rose Bowl.
But as a coach, he subverts that. What he and Bill Bingham do is their campaign isn’t necessarily for winning, it’s for having fun, it’s for enjoying the game.
In the 1910s and 20s, college football was the peak of American sports, but that’s certainly not the case anymore. What do you think would be the modern comparison for someone like Horween?
Is Becky Hammon with the Spurs, the first woman [to act as] head coach in basketball, something like that? Or the very important discussions about people of color as coaches in the NFL? Sports and education are, for some reason or another, where change is made in American life. Brown v. Board of Education in 1954 ends, at least officially, segregation. Title IV, what is basically American law for anti-discrimination based on sex, is based on women’s college sports. You have the breaking down of color barriers and Jackie Robinson, Muhammad Ali and Vietnam. You have the first [openly] gay athletes, you have questions of breaking the glass ceiling for women and Serena Williams.
It’s absolutely 100% true that sports doesn’t matter. Who wins the World Series is of no great consequence to most people’s lives. Although it’s interesting, if you drive up I-95 on a Sunday, you will see that the bumper stickers and the flags change. There is some sort of passion, obviously, about sport. But it’s absolutely true that for some reason or another in the 20th century and 21st century in American sport, really important social and cultural decisions, and political decisions, are made in American sport.
Zev Eleff, president of Gratz College and author of “Dyed in Crimson.” (Courtesy)
Another main topic in the book is that the goal for immigrants, especially Jews, was Americanization, assimilation — that to become part of the mainstream was the marker of success. But that seems to be the case for Jews in a very different sense than it is for Catholics and for Blacks.
The major contribution of this book to American Jewish history beyond telling this story is to complicate notions of Americanization. Jews and Catholics in particular view Americanization very, very differently. The Catholic experience is to create parallel systems. If you’re a good Catholic boy with immense football talent, play for Notre Dame, play for Boston College. Don’t play for the Protestant mainstream. Cream them on the football field. Create parallel systems.
The Jewish experience is not so. Outside of Orthodox day schools in the early 20th century, it was anathema, it was considered almost heretical, for American Jews to [go] to private schools. To the contrary, the so-called golden citadels of the public schools — that is the agent of Americanization. Jews don’t establish their own educational systems. They somehow Americanize and acculturate into the mainstream. We don’t compete with Harvard, we get into Harvard.
Thinking about the antisemitism of that time — the quotas, Father Coughlin, all of that — how do you think that compares to what we’re seeing today?
Historians disagree about the 1920s. Was it a time of great prominence of American Jews? There was affluence in the roaring ’20s. There were institutions that were created, there was creativity, from the Orthodox and Mordecai Kaplan certainly, across the board, the Jewish Theological Seminary. American Judaism was at a certain high point in the 1920s. At the same time, there were quotas, and there was rising antisemitism. I think today we also have to deal with the tension of, on the one hand, there are great opportunities for Jews in the United States; at the same time, there is antisemitism. And so from the 1920s to the 2020s, 100 years later, you see a model for how to grapple with those tensions.
What do you hope, more than anything else, someone takes away or learns from your book?
It’s a book that begins like a punch line: a working class Protestant, a Catholic and a Jew walk into a football field. But it ends with something I think a lot more pronounced, which is, it’s a story about change. As a historian, I study change, particularly in American Judaism, broadly in American religion and Jewish Studies. Change is the best asset that a historian has to study. I wasn’t interested in just finding another Sandy Koufax story, replicating that story. This is a story that isn’t just about a Jew who happened for his moment to become quite successful and quite famous, or a Catholic or a former mill hand turned first athletic director in college history. It’s really about how people on the periphery influence the mainstream.
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The post How Arnold Horween, an unsung Jewish Harvard hero, changed American sports appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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In celebration of David Attenborough’s 100th birthday, a very Jewish song
When the much-beloved English broadcaster David Attenborough was celebrated at London’s Royal Albert Hall with the tribute 100 Years On Planet Earth, a spoken word recording was played of Attenborough reciting the song “What a Wonderful World.”
Co-written by the Jewish songwriter George David Weiss, a Juilliard-trained musician, the song was originally intended for Louis Armstrong as a reflective follow-up to Armstrong’s peppy smash hit “Hello, Dolly!” by the Broadway composer Jerry Herman. “What a Wonderful World” was not universally acclaimed at first. Armstrong’s clarinetist Joe Muranyi later described Satchmo’s first reaction to the tune in a way that may be politely paraphrased as “What is this drek?”
The unabashed sentimentality, funereal tempo, and absence of any jazziness may have put off musicians initially, and indeed discouraged record company president Larry Newton (born Louis Nutinsky). Newton so loathed the very concept of the melody that he tried to stop the recording session and had to be physically removed and locked out of the studio. Later, Newton refused to promote the song, which had almost no immediate impact in America, although it became a #1 hit in the U.K.
“What a Wonderful World” expressed a Great Society optimism of the 1960s, which was overwhelmingly supported by American Jews, believing that successive generations would be better educated and the federal government would resolve systemic poverty and racial inequality. “I hear babies cry, I watch them grow/ They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know,” Armstrong sang.
Meanwhile, the song acquired newfound popularity in 1999 when the saxophonist Kenneth Bruce Gorelick, known as Kenny G, added his own accompaniment to Armstrong’s vocals and other elements of the original recording. Jazz mavens were outraged, led by the guitarist Pat Metheny, who called Kenny G’s effort “musical necrophilia.” No such excoriations were heard in 2001, when punk rockstar Joey Ramone (born Jeffrey Ross Hyman), produced an exceedingly loud cover version with its own gritty integrity and authenticity. And in 2018, Barbra Streisand was generally praised for blending the song with John Lennon’s “Imagine” on her album Walls. As The Hollywood Reporter commented, Streisand’s purpose was likely to inspire hope during a crisis in American sociopolitical history, to offer a reason to “persevere during a period of cascading nightmares.”
The Attenborough event at the Royal Albert Hall also featured a performance of “Nature Boy” by the Jewish U.K. singer Sienna Spiro, whose full-throated singing recalls the precedent of the 1960’s Jewish U.K. singer Alma Cogan. The song Spiro chose to sing was written by George Alexander Aberle, who spent his early childhood at the Brooklyn Hebrew Orphan Asylum and adopted the pen name of eden ahbez, spelled with lower-case letters because, he asserted, only the words God and Infinity merited capitalization.
As was the case with “What a Wonderful World,” some controversy surrounded “Nature Boy,” originally popularized by Nat King Cole. The Belarusian Jewish-born composer and singer Herman Yablokoff claimed in a memoir that the melody of “Nature Boy” was plagiarized from his song “Shvayg mayn harts” (“Be Still, My Heart”), which he wrote for the play Papirosn (Cigarettes) in 1935.
At first, ahbez denied the charge, claiming to Yablokoff that he had first heard the tune in the California mountains, as if sung by angels. To which Yablokoff, with the brass-tacks realism of a Yiddish theater veteran, replied that the song was geganvet (stolen) and if any angels had been singing it, they must have purchased the sheet music of his song. Eventually ahbez’s lawyers offered an out-of-court settlement, which was accepted.
As far as the Attenborough concert is concerned, the tribute at the Royal Albert Hall brought to mind the case of Miriam Rothschild, a Jewish naturalist who preceded Attenborough in creating compelling nature documentaries. Rothschild was also a celebrated zoologist, entomologist and conservationist of lasting original achievements.
Nicknamed the queen of fleas due to her understanding of that life form, Rothschild was also an activist who saved lives of Jewish refugees during wartime, personally housing 49 children at her family estate and urging that laws be liberalized to allow more escapees from Fascist Europe to find safety in Britain. Perhaps tellingly, Rothschild also marveled at tiny mites that found refuge in the ears of moths. Her films did not dwell on the predatory violence of nature, which most other documentaries, even Attenborough’s, sometimes did to inspire thrills and chills among viewers.
With comparable compassion, Rothschild supported social causes including animal welfare, free milk for children at school, and gay rights by contributing to the 1957 Wolfenden Report which resulted in decriminalizing homosexual behavior in the U.K. By contrast, Attenborough, as a senior manager at the BBC, controller of BBC Two, and director of programming for BBC Television in the 1960s and 1970s, eschewed making public statements about societal issues until very recently, even those relating to climate change, as Nature Magazine observed in its centenary salute.
Yet by focusing on the world and latterly on damage from careless abuse of natural resources, Attenborough promoted biodiversity, renewable energy, and natural preservation areas, among other initiatives. And all Jewish TV spectators can only be grateful that as controller of BBC Two, Attenborough commissioned The Ascent of Man, the 1973 series in which Jacob Bronowski, the Polish Jewish mathematician and humanist, expressed his personal philosophy. In its own way a sometimes rueful homage to a wonderful world, Bronowski’s conclusions about nature and humanity were so powerful that they overshadow the occasional executive decision for which Attenborough later expressed regret, such as the budget-motivated 1960s destruction of archived BBC programs. As a result, much Jewish media history was lost, including The Madhouse on Castle Street, a 1963 teleplay with the then- little-known Bob Dylan among the performers.
Nonetheless, Attenborough’s series, which include Life on Earth, The Living Planet, The Trials of Life, The Life of Mammals, Life in the Undergrowth and many others underscore the fact that appreciating nature is a L’chaim to all of creation, the ultimate message of his long life’s work, much deserving of the praise it has received.
The post In celebration of David Attenborough’s 100th birthday, a very Jewish song appeared first on The Forward.
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Barney Frank’s final warning on Israel: ‘America’s effort should be to support the opposition to Netanyahu’
(JTA) — Barney Frank, for years the progressive conscience of his party who died on Tuesday night, had one last piece of advice for Democrats as he entered hospice care earlier this month: Repudiate litmus tests – except for Israel.
The United States should cut off weapons sales to Israel as long as Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu does not relieve Palestinian suffering, Frank told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency this month, using his imminent death to state bluntly what he believed other Democrats could not.
“It’s what the Democrats should be doing, it’s what America should be doing, and it should be what the Democrats are advocating, is giving an ultimatum that [Netanyahu] either changes things substantially in Gaza and the West Bank, or we cut off any aid,” the onetime congressional powerhouse said in a May 8 phone call from his home in Ogunquit, Maine.
“I’ve been talking about the importance of repudiating positions from the left and from the far left, but the Israel one is almost 180 degrees” different, he said. “It’s the one area where we are not doing enough in terms of making our position clear.”
Jewish lawmakers criticizing Netanyahu’s Israel was extraordinary a decade or so ago but has become commonplace. Frank’s plea, however, came from a lawmaker who grew up in a Zionist household and who was throughout a decades-long career in the U.S. House of Representatives solidly pro-Israel, albeit with occasional deviations from the pro-Israel lobby’s orthodoxy.
In one of his final interviews, he acknowledged being heartbroken by Israel under Netanyahu, recalling his family’s support for the struggle to shuck off the British mandate and create a Jewish state.
“We had a ‘boycott Britain’ bumper sticker on our car,” he said. His older sister, Anne Lewis, brought the family into the Zionist fold after a summer at a Habonim camp. “During my congressional career, I was very supportive, emotionally as well as politically and for a while earlier in this century, I volunteered and traveled at the request of Hillel to a couple of college campuses to defend Judaism and Israel.”
That would be hard to do in the current moment, he said. “I guess I held on longer than I should have to, ‘Well, we can work with them, etc’,” he said. “But it’s become clear to me, particularly due to what they’re allowing to happen in the West Bank, that it is important morally and politically to repudiate the policy of supporting Israel’s military activity.”
From the home he shared with his husband in Ogunquit, Frank in his final days took calls from the media well ahead of the scheduled publication of his book, “The Hard Path to Unity.”
He freely admitted he was doing a virtual publicity tour because his survival until the September launch date was unlikely. He knew he was leveraging his decline to be heard, and he didn’t mind that at all.
“Frankly, if I weren’t dying, people wouldn’t be paying as much attention,” Frank told The New York Times earlier this month.
His message in many of those conversations: Don’t make or break viable Democratic candidates on issues like transgender rights or Medicare for all.
“The key to liberal democracy being able to come back is to get rid of the perception, that we have allowed to grow, that the entire Democratic Party is committed to a series of very drastic social reconstructions that go beyond the politically acceptable,” he told the Times.
Asked at the outset of his interview with JTA if that advice extends to the pressure from some of the Democratic base on candidates to pledge to cut assistance to Israel, he offered a vigorous “almost the opposite” because of his conviction that the party should be more vocal in its opposition to the current Israeli government.
Frank was a fighter during his congressional career from 1981 to 2013. The leadership made him the lead antagonist to Newt Gingrich during Gingrich’s consequential speakership in the 1990s. Frank ascended to the leadership of the House Financial Services Committee at a key time, during the late 2000s financial crisis. He coauthored the last major banking reform bill, 2010’s Dodd-Frank.
He was a progressive lion, championing the battles against income inequality and for civil rights. He came out in 1987 as gay, the first sitting member of Congress to do so. He had a reputation as a curmudgeon, once silencing a Holocaust survivor for exceeding his time in congressional testimony.
Frank believed that incremental moves are more likely to bring about change than full-on advocacy for far-reaching changes. He had noted in interviews that the same-sex marriage he enjoyed with his husband came about because of a slow roll of change in LGBTQ rights, including ones he championed, like allowing gays to serve openly in the military.
The onetime leading progressive endorsed moderates in this year’s elections, backing AIPAC-supported U.S. Rep. Haley Stevens in the Michigan Senate primary. In his own state’s Senate race, he also backed Gov. Janet Collins, who recently ceded the primary to Graham Platner, an ascendant figure on the party’s left.
Frank believed anti-Israel orthodoxies could be as damaging as the far-left orthodoxies he decried. He remained appalled at voters disgruntled with the Biden administration’s pro-Israel policies who stayed away from the polls or even voted for President Donald Trump, and he used their example as one of two to illustrate why purity tests backfire. (The other is voters who faulted President Joe Biden for not doing enough to address climate change.)
“People who voted against [Kamala] Harris because they thought the administration had been too supportive of Israel achieved exactly the opposite of what they wanted,” Frank said, referring to the former vice president who faced Trump in 2024. “She would have begun by now to have cut back substantially on aid to Israel.”
He made clear in his interview that he rejected the extremes of Israel criticism emerging among Democrats, including accusations it has committed genocide in the war Hamas launched in 2023, and the argument that it should not exist as a Jewish state.
“Genocide is trying to wipe out the whole people,” he said. “The Holocaust was killing every Jew. Israel is not trying to kill every Palestinian. What they’re doing – I do not think its genocide, but it’s certainly unacceptable, morally and very damaging, politically.”
But he argued that in order to effectively confront the anti-Israel left in the party, Democrats must address what he says is the main enabler of its rise: Netanyahu and his policies.
“Netanyahu has been their enabler,” he said of prominent anti-Israel Democrats, including New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani and Michigan Senate primary candidate Abdul El-Sayed.
Frank was especially exercised by attacks by some settlers on Palestinians in the West Bank, attacks he said are enabled by Netanyahu and his coalition partnership with far-right patrons of the extremist settlers.
“My recommendation to Democrats would be to say, if Netanyahu does not reverse the harassment of Palestinians in the West Bank and substantially cut back on the military attacks, America should announce that we are no longer going to supply him with arms or be otherwise supportive,” he said.
“We’ve now gone to the point where supporting Israel has become unpopular, and that’s all Netanyahu’s doing,” Frank said. “No question that what he’s done is legitimize opposition to the whole notion of Israel, beyond disagreement with the specific actions.”
He sympathized with Jewish voters who feel alienated by Democrats and who could never bring themselves to vote for Trump (whom he reviled — he told reporters that his one regret is that he will not live to see Trump implode.) But he said the way forward is to cut off Netanyahu.
“I understand the dilemma people face if the choice is supporting Israel and everything that Netanyahu is doing and repudiating that,” he said. “We should make it clear that the right position here is to support Israel’s right to exist, but to be unwilling to facilitate what they’re doing militarily and to give them an ultimatum.”
Frank said the United States should actively support Netanyahu’s opposition as a means of leverage. He cited as an example the campaign he helped lead for the release of the spy for Israel Jonathan Pollard.
Frank spearheaded congressional pressure on President Barack Obama in 2010 mostly because he believed Pollard’s sentence was unjust. But he also thought that it would serve as an incentive to Netanyahu to cooperate more closely with the Obama administration on other issues. (The Obama administration engineered Pollard’s parole in 2015 and he now lives in Israel.)
Instead, Netanyahu became even more confrontational and moved further to the right. Now, Frank said, he would dangle the prospect of Pollard’s release before the Israeli electorate as a means of ousting Netanyahu.
“I now think America’s effort should be to support the opposition to Netanyahu,” he said.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Barney Frank’s final warning on Israel: ‘America’s effort should be to support the opposition to Netanyahu’ appeared first on The Forward.
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Jews used to conjure spirits and snakes in Belarusian
דעם 26סטן מײַ עפֿנט זיך אין ייִוואָ די אויסשטעלונג „ייִדן זענען מאַגיע‟ וועגן דעם ייִדישן אָקולטיזם. נישט לאַנג צוריק האָב איך אָנגעזאַמלט אַן אייגענעם מין ווירטועלע „אויסשטעלונג‟ פֿאַר זיך אַליין אויף דער דאָזיקער טעמע און אַנטדעקט עפּעס גאַנץ חידושדיקס: רײַכע אוצרות שפּרוכן און מאַגישע רעצעפּטן אויף רײַסיש (ווײַסרוסיש), פֿאַרשריבן מיטן ייִדישן אַלף־בית. עטלעכע פּראָפֿעסיאָנעלע מומחים אין ייִדישע און סלאַווישע פֿאָלק־טראַדיציעס האָבן מיר געזאָגט, אַז דאָס איז אַן עכטע וויסנשאַפֿטלעכע אַנטדעקונג.
מע ווייסט, אַז אויף רײַסיש האָט מען געשריבן מיט דרײַ פֿאַרשיידענע אַלפֿאַבעטן: די קירילישע, לאַטײַנישע און אויך די אַראַבישע, וואָס איז געווען פֿאַרשפּרייט בײַ די ווײַסרוסיש־רעדנדיקע טאָטערן. אַחוץ ריין מוסולמענישע טעקסטן, טרעפֿן זיך בײַ זיי אַ סך מיסטישע סגולות, וווּ פּסוקים פֿונעם קאָראַן ווערן צונויפֿגעוועבט מיט סלאַווישע שפּרוכן.
קיינער האָט אָבער ביז הײַנט נישט געוווּסט, אַז בײַ ייִדן איז פֿאַראַן אַן ענלעכע אַלטע און צעצווײַגטע טראַדיציע צו שרײַבן רײַסישע סגולות מיט ייִדישע אותיות. שוין 16 אַזעלכע כּתבֿ־ידן פֿונעם 18טן און 19טן יאָרהונדערט האָב איך אָנגעזאַמלט און איך בין זיכער, אַז דאָס איז בלויז דער אָנהייב פֿון אַ נײַ געביט אין דער ייִדישער און סלאַווישער לינגוויסטיק, פֿאָלקלאָריסטיק און געשיכטע. אין איין פֿאַל קלינגט די שפּראַך ווי אוקראַיִניש און נאָר טיילווײַז ווי רײַסיש; אָנגעשריבן האָט מען יענעם כּתבֿ־יד אין בריסק, ווײַסרוסלאַנד; עס קאָן זײַן אַן איבערגאַנג־דיאַלעקט.
אין 1921 האָט דער ייִדישער און ווײַסרוסישער שרײַבער און היסטאָריקער זמיטראָק ביאַדוליאַ (אמתער נאָמען – שמואל פּלאַווניק) אָנגעשריבן אַ קורצן אַרטיקל וועגן אַ ריזיקן כּתבֿ־יד, וווּ צווישן סגולות אויף לשון־קודש און ייִדיש טרעפֿט זיך אויך רײַסיש. צום באַדויערן, איז יענער מאַנוסקריפּט פֿאַרלוירן געוואָרן, און די פֿאָרשער האָבן במשך פֿון איבער 100 יאָר געמיינט, אַז דאָס איז, אפֿשר, געווען בלויז אַן איינציקער אויסנאַם־מוסטער פֿון ייִדיש־רײַסיש.
לאָמיר אַרײַנקוקן אין צוויי כּתבֿ־ידן, וועלכע זענען מיר אויסגעפֿאַלן צו טרעפֿן צו ערשט. איינער איז נומער EE.011.037 פֿון וויליאַם גראָסעס קאָלעקציע. פֿון אַ ריזיקן מאַנוסקריפּט זענען פֿאַרבליבן בלויז 14 זײַטלעך; 5 זענען אויף רײַסיש.
איין סגולה איז ממש אַ וווּנדער. ס׳איז אַ שפּרוך קעגן אַ ביס פֿון אַ גיפֿטיקער שלאַנג – „עקרבֿ‟, אַן עקדיש, וואָס אינעם ווײַסרוסישן פֿאָלקלאָר מיינט אַ שלאַנג; קיין עקדישן זענען אין ווײַסרוסלאַנד נישטאָ. עס שטייט אַזוי: צופֿרי, אַנטקעגן דעם קאַיאָר, דאַרף מען זיך נײַן מאָל בוקן אויף די קני און זאָגן „אויטשע נאַש‟ („אונדזער פֿאָטער‟, Lord’s Prayer אויף רײַסיש), ווײַל „דאָס איז זייער תּפֿילה‟ („כּי היא תּפֿילתם‟)! דערנאָך גייט מען אַרום דעם געביסענעם מיט אַ מעסער און שפּרעכט אָפּ די שלאַנגען. כ׳זעץ איבער אויף ייִדיש: „איינער איז אַ גאָלדענער, דער אַנדערער אַ זילבערנער, און דער דריטער – מיט הונדערט ציינער. ס׳צי זיי אַוועק‟.
ווי באַלד דער אומבאַקאַנטער סגולות־זאַמלער פֿונעם 19טן יאָרהונדערט איז געווען אַ ליטוואַק, שרײַבט ער אי אויף ייִדיש, אי אויף סלאַוויש, מיט אַ געדיכטן ליטווישן אַקצענט, אויסמישנדיק „ס‟ מיט „ש‟, „צ‟ מיט „טש‟ און „אוי‟ מיט „איי‟. די באַקאַנטע קריסטלעכע תּפֿילה איז בײַ אים אויסגעלייגט „אייצא נאַס”. די אַנדערע אַנטדעקטע כּתבֿ־ידן האָבן דעם זעלבן ליטוואַקישן אויסלייג.
אינעם באַקאַנטן מדרש „פּרק שירה‟ ווערט דערציילט, ווי אַזוי אַלע באַשעפֿענישן דאַוונען צום אייבערשטן מיט פֿאַרשיידענע תּנ״כישע פּסוקים. בפֿרט פּאָפּולער איז דער דאָזיקער מדרש בײַ פֿרויען; מיט אים הייבט זיך אָן שחרית אינעם באַקאַנטן ווילנער סידור „קרבן מנחה‟ מיט עבֿרי־טײַטש. ווען מע בלעטערט די אַלטע רײַסיש־ייִדישע סגולה־ספֿרים, ווערט אָבער קלאָר, אַז לויט דער פֿאָלק־טראַדיציע איז די נאַטירלעכע שפּראַך פֿון וועלדער און ווילדער נאַטור דווקא רײַסיש. אויב אַזוי, ווענדט מען זיך צו די שלאַנגען דווקא מיט אַ באַוווּסט ניט־ייִדיש געבעט!
ווײַטער, אין אַן אַנדער שפּרוך, ווערט דערקלערט, וווּ עס וווינט די שלאַנגען־מלכּה, „זמיייִצאַ־צאַריצאַ‟: „אין אַ וויסט פֿעלד שטייט אַ גאָלדענער באַרנבוים, אויף יענעם באַרנבוים איז אַ גאָלדן נעסטעלע, און אין יענעם נעסטעלע איז די שלענגעלע־מלכּהלה‟.
די שלאַנגישע מלכּות צי בת־מלכּות הייסן אין די אַנטדעקטע כּתבֿ־ידן קאַראַפּעיאַ, סאַכאַוועיאַ, מאַרינאַ, קאַטערינאַ און אַרינאַ. אָפֿט באַווײַזן זיי זיך ווי קאַסאָקע (קרום־אויגיקע) מיידלעך, וואָס זיצן אין עפּעס אַ פֿאַרוואָרפֿן אָרט. אינעם סלאַווישן פֿאָלקלאָר (און נישט נאָר סלאַווישן) רופֿן קאַסאָקע מיידלעך אַרויס אַסאָציאַציעס מיט שלאַנגען, עין־הרע, וכּדומה.
נאָך איין וווּנדערלעכער אוצר איז דער כּתבֿ־יד נומער 1226 פֿונעם בר־אילן־אוניווערסיטעט. דאָרט פֿאַרנעמט רײַסיש כּמעט אַ טוץ זײַטלעך. צו געפֿינען אַ פֿאַרבלאָנדזשעטן מענטש, שטייט דאָרט געשריבן, דאַרף מען אויסבאַקן נײַן בולקעס, גיין שטילערהייט צו אַן אויסגעוואָרצלטן בוים, בוקן זיך 27 מאָל, אָפּגעבן די בולקעס דעם וואַלד־רוח און בעטן אים אומצוקערן דעם פֿאַרלאָזטן. אײַ, קלינגט עס דאָך ווי אַן עבֿודה־זרה? ווײַזט אויס, האָבן ייִדן געמיינט, אַז ווי באַלד דער גײַסט איז בלויז דער בעל־הבית איבערן וואַלד, נישט קיין עכטער אָפּגאָט, איז אַזאַ ריטואַל סתּם דרך־ארץ פֿאַר אים.
אַ סך אַנדערע רײַסיש־ייִדישע סגולות האָבן צו טאָן מיט מכשפֿות, וועלף און בערן, פֿערד און בהמות, עין־הרעס, קינדער־קראַנקייטן, וכּדומה – בקיצור, מיט טיפּישע פּויערישע און דאָרפֿישע ענינים. גאָר וויכטיק איז צו באַמערקן, אַז אַ סך נוסחאָות חזרן זיך איבער במשך פֿון דורות אין עטלעכע זאַמלונגען, הגם זייער גראַמאַטיק איז צומאָל גרײַזיק, בפֿרט וואָס שייך די קאָמפּליצירטע סלאַווישע בייגפֿאַלן. דאָס ווײַזט קלאָר, אַז זיי שפּיגלען אָפּ אַ רײַכע אינערלעכע ייִדישע טראַדיציע, נישט סתּם איבערגעשריבן וואָרט נאָך וואָרט בײַ די קריסטלעכע שכנים.
איבעריק צו זאָגן, אַז ס׳רובֿ קמיעות און סגולות אין אַזעלכע זאַמלונגען זענען פֿאַרשריבן אויף לשון־קודש און אַראַמיש. נישט זעלטן זענען זיי אָבער אויך פֿאַרבונדן מיט דער סלאַווישער פֿאָלק־מאַגיע. די גאָר רײַכע טראַדיציע פֿון ייִדיש־שפּראַכיקע סגולות איז אויך ווייניק באַקאַנט און פֿאָדערט אַ סך ווײַטערדיקע פֿאָרשונגען.
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