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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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Mayor Mamdani, please step back from the brink
For much of the last year, I’ve defended Mayor Zohran Mamdani against critics who have accused him of antisemitism. And I continue to do so now: Mamdani is not antisemitic, and he has done great things for New York City, inspiring younger voters, improving the quality of life in the city with progressive polities, and being the most accessible mayor in at least a generation.
But when it comes to Israel/Palestine, Mamdani has acted recklessly, wrongheadedly and irresponsibly. It is one thing to make strident, inaccurate and extreme statements as a progressive activist; indeed, nothing about Mamdani’s recent comments about Israel and its prime minister are new to me. I have heard the same things over and over in progressive spaces. But it is another to do so as the mayor of a city with 960,000 Jews living in it, at least a quarter of whom support its current government.
As someone who has been sharply, publicly critical both of the Netanyahu government and of the “anti-antisemitism” industry, I urge the mayor to step back from the brink, reflect on the office he now holds, and consider the responsibilities that come with it.
It is too soon to say whether Mamdani’s recent comments inspired the apparent hate crime that took place on the Upper West Side last week, in which a Jewish person and an Asian person were stabbed by someone who allegedly shouted “Allahu Akbar.” Personally, I doubt that they did — hate crimes are rarely quid pro quo — but time will tell. But can you blame Jewish New Yorkers for connecting the dots?
Whatever their relationship to the attack, Mayor Mamdani’s recent comments were wrongheaded in at least four ways.
First, they were reckless. Yes, Mamdani has condemned antisemitism and all other forms of bigotry. Yes, his comments were about a “nation-state,” in his words, not a people. But do we really expect would-be criminals and terrorists to parse the difference between extremely harsh criticisms of the Jewish state and the Jewish people who support it? When the mayor says the Jewish state has committed genocide, and that everyone with eyes can see this is true, it is entirely foreseeable that a bigot will take it out on Jewish people.
Zohran Mamdani is no longer a young DSA activist preaching to the left-wing choir in the basement of a community center in Brooklyn. He is the mayor of New York City, a kingmaker, and a rising star in the Democratic Party. And with that power comes increased responsibility. Even if his criticisms are justified, it is reckless for a mayor to present them the way he did. Indeed, if this happened on the Right, we would call it “stochastic terrorism.”
Second, Mamdani’s comments were careless with the facts. His statement was a cri de coeur, full of far-left platitudes but rife with factual errors.
“Benjamin Netanyahu is a war criminal, the architect of a horrific genocide against the Palestinian people,” said the mayor of New York City on July 21. Is that accurate? It is not. Yes, Netanyahu has been charged with war crimes, and there is indeed an ICC warrant for his arrest — but he has not been convicted. He is not (yet) a war criminal. Is he the architect of a genocide? Maybe, or maybe not; that, too, has not yet been established by any legal authority.
But Mamdani isn’t resting on legal authority; his case is based solely on outrage. In his words: “Anyone, with their eyes, with their heart, with their conscience, should recognize the devastation he has wrought, and understand that he belongs before a court of law.” So that is the standard of review? What my eyes, heart and conscience say?
Tell me, Mr. Mayor, how do my eyes discern the intent to destroy an entire people, which is a necessary part of the legal crime of genocide? Does my heart know the heart of a leader halfway around the world? In the absence of the documentary evidence that underlies every genocide conviction of the last 70 years, is my conscience proof enough?
This isn’t lawfulness — it is demagoguery, and I find it frightening.
Now, while it is fashionable in this decade to take an extreme position and double down on it, I am taking no position on these questions. It does seem to me that the State of Israel committed war crimes in Gaza, and the nature of the destruction of Gaza was absolutely horrible, clearly out of proportion to military necessity. And if there is evidence that Israel’s decisionmakers shared the intentions of Itamar Ben Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich, who have called for Palestinians to be ejected from Gaza, then, tragically, the state did in fact commit genocide.
But we can’t know this by our eyes, heart, and conscience; for that, we need investigations, a trial and a legal process. It is lawless to assume the conclusion of such a process before it has even begun.
Third, Mamdani’s comments betray his responsibility as mayor.
Of the 960,000 Jews in New York City, at least a third (but probably more) identify as Zionist, and a quarter basically support Israel’s actions in Gaza, or at least understand them in the context of the mass murders and rapes of Oct. 7 and the intransigence of Hamas in the months thereafter. After all, when the hostages were finally released, the bombs (mostly) stopped dropping. Had Hamas surrendered sooner, this position says, fewer Gazans would have been killed.
This is not my view, as I have said. But it is the view of at least 250,000 New Yorkers. How, Mr. Mayor, are they now supposed to regard themselves as citizens of New York? Their own mayor has said that they support genocide and war crimes, as anyone with eyes, a heart and a conscience can see. There is no reasonable disagreement here, no dickering over the Genocide Convention or the ratio of civilian deaths in urban warfare. There is only one truth, and those 250,000 New Yorkers are — well, what other word is there — evil.
Has any mayor ever said such a thing about his own constituents?
Sure, mayors take political stances, including about Israel/Palestine. Eric Adams took several controversial, and to my mind misguided, ones. But I cannot find an example in recent history of a mayor saying that a quarter million of his own constituents are either evil or blind or both.
And then to be shocked that a bigot might be inspired by them?
To repeat, I am not saying many things here. I am not saying the mayor is antisemitic; he is not. I am not saying the destruction of Gaza didn’t happen, or was justified, or was entirely Hamas’ fault; it was not. I am not saying that Israel didn’t commit genocide or war crimes; perhaps it did. I am only saying that a mayor should not make conclusory, incendiary statements that directly impugn the morality — even the humanity — of a quarter of a million of his constituents.
Perhaps worst of all, though, is how Mamdani’s rash comments have set back the cause of peace and emboldened the opponents of coexistence.
First, he has strengthened the ADL, AIPAC, and Netanyahu himself, all of whom have gleefully chanted versions of “we told you so.” He has validated both the fears of Jewish New Yorkers and the calumnies of the anti-antisemitism crowd, while making his liberal-but-not-radical supporters look like idiots. He has played directly into the hands of Israel’s staunchest defenders.
And in so doing, he hasn’t advanced the cause of justice, safety, and dignity for five million Palestinians who live in Palestine itself. On the contrary, by so greatly strengthening the hand of their enemies, I would argue he has done the opposite.
The post Mayor Mamdani, please step back from the brink appeared first on The Forward.
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Experimenting with translation on today’s Yiddish stage
„פֿרײַנד און פֿײַנט, ברוכים הבאים! זײַט באַגריסט צו דער װעלט־באַרימטער װעלט־מײַסטערשאַפֿט פֿון ייִדישע קללות!“
אַזוי רעוועט אויף דער בינע אַן אָנזאָגערין (געשפּילט פֿון װיװי לאַקס) אױף ייִדיש, אײדער אַ צווייטער אָנזאָגער (פּאָל קענדלער) זעצט איבער דעם זאַץ אױף ענגליש, אָנהייבנדיק מיט דער פֿראַזע !Friends and foes.
שטייענדיק אין אַ מיזרח־לאָנדאָנער טעאַטער האָט קענדלער מיט אַ געדאַכטן שופֿר פֿאַרבעטן די צװײ קאָמאַנדעס פֿון „קללה־קעמפֿערס“ אויפֿצוטרעטן. די זיבן „שדים פֿון חילול־הכּבֿוד“, אױף בינע־לינקס, האָבן בײז געקוקט אױף די פֿינף קעמפֿערס פֿון „גולם פֿונעם עולם“, אױף בינע־רעכטס. די ריכטערין — אַן איבערגעבױגענע, 3,000-יאָר־אַלטע „דבֿורה פֿון דער תּורה“ — איז געזעסן אױפֿן שופֿט־בענקל. צװײ ספּאָרט־קאָמענטאַטאָרן אױף דער הינטערבינע האָבן אַנאַליזירנט דעם גאַנצן פֿאַרמעסט.
די קעמפֿערס האָבן גענומען שעלטן זײערע קעגנערס, קודם־כּל מיט מילדע זידלװערטער און שפּעטער מיט שװערע װייטיקן, קרענק און טױטקאָמישן שלימזל׃ „זאָל די לעבער דיר שטיקלעכװײַז אַרױספֿליִען דורך דער נאָז“!
אױף יעדער קללה האָבן די קעמפֿערס רעאַגירט אויף אַן איבערגעטריבענעם אופֿן, אַזױ װי מע וואָלט זיי געשלאָגן מיט אַ גװאַלדיקן זעץ. פֿאַר ווייטיק האָבן די אַקטיאָרן זיך געהאַלטן בײַ די זײַטן, אומגעפֿאַלן — ווידער אויפֿגעשטאַנען און דערלאַנגט צוריק. בשעת־מעשׂה האָבן די קאָמענטאַטאָרן איבערגעזעצט אַלע קללות אױף ענגליש — אָבער אױך אַרײַנגעװאָרפֿן אײגענע װיציקע באַמערקונגען. „ממש אַ פּאַטש אינעם דורכגאָס פֿון האָרמוז!“ האָט איינער אויסגערופֿן.
אַזוי ווי עס טרעפֿט אָפֿט הײַנט בײַ ייִדישע פֿאָרשטעלונגען וווּ ס׳רובֿ צוקוקער קענען נישט קיין ייִדיש, האָט מען נאָך יעדן וויץ געהערט צװײ כװאַליעס געלעכטער: אײן רעאַקציע אױף דער ייִדישער קללה גופֿא און אַ צװײטע — אַ העכערע רעאַקציע אױף דער איבערזעצונג.
שפּראַך־עקספּערימענטן אױף דער בינע
דער קללה־פֿאַרמעסט איז געװען בלױז אײנער פֿון פֿערצן קורצע אַקטן אין דער ערשטער אָװנט־פּראָגראַם פֿון די „לאָנדאָנער ייִדיש־שפּילערס“ אין יוני. די נײַע טרופּע איז אָנגעפֿירט דורך פֿינף באַקאַנטע טוערס אין דער אָרטיקער ייִדיש־סבֿיבֿה׃ סאָניאַ גאָלאַנס, װיװי לאַקס, תּמרה מיצנער, שמואל־לײבל אָגין און דוד שנײַדער (נישט קײן קרובֿ מײַנער).
כּמעט יעדע סצענע האָט אײַנגעגלידערט די ענגלישע שפּראַך אױף אַן אוניקאַלן אופֿן.
פֿאַר די צװײ קאָמעדיע־פּיעסקעלעך פֿון שלום־עליכמען און די װײניק באַקאַנטע מעלאָדראַמע פֿון ש. אַן־סקין האָט מען פּראָיעקטירט ענגלישע איבערקעפּלעך הינטער דער בינע. אין רובֿ פֿאַלן, אָבער, האָבן די שפּילערס גערעדט אָדער געזונגען אַ געמיש. אין אַן אױסצוג פֿון „דער דיבוק“, למשל, האָבן געװיסע אַקטיאָרן איבערגעזעצט וואָס אַנדערע אױף דער בינע האָבן געזאָגט. אין אַ סצענע פֿון שנײַדערס אָריגינעלער דראַמע, „לאָזן סטאַלינען לאַכן“, רעדן די ייִדישע פּאַרשױנים ייִדיש, בעת די קאָמוניסטישע פֿונקציאָנאַרן רעדן ענגליש.
אין אײן סצענע האָט מען בכלל נישט צוגעשטעלט קײן איבערזעצונגען׃ אַ נײַע ייִדיש־אַדאַפּטאַציע פֿונעם קאַנאַדער קינדערביכל „מױרעס געבורטסטאָג“ פֿון ראָבערט מונש. תּמרה מיצנער האָט נישט נאָר פֿאַרטײַטשט, פֿאַרבעסערט, דראַמאַטיזירט און רעזשיסירט די מעשׂה, נאָר אױך געשפּילט די הויפּטראָלע.
די סופֿליאָרשע תּמרה גליסאָן־פֿרידבערג האָט אַרײַנגעפֿירט די סצענע מיט אַ קורצער ענגלישער הקדמה און איז פּלוצלינג נעלם געװאָרן, צוזאַמען מיט דער ענגלישער שפּראַך.
דער סיפּור־המעשׂה פֿון „מױרעס געבורטסטאָג“ איז אַ פּשוטער. מױרע פֿאַרבעט אַלע קינדער פֿון איר גאַנצער עלעמענטאַר־שול אױף אַ שׂימחה בײַ זיך אין דער הײם. אַזאַ סך הונגעריקע קינדערלעך! װאָס טוט מען — און װאָס עסט מען?
אויף דער בינע האָט מען געשפּילט די קאָמעדיע זײער „פֿיזיש“. במשך פֿון דער סצענע האָט מיצנער איבערגעחזרט אַלע קלאַסן וואָס זי האָט פֿאַרבעטן אויף איר געבוירן־טאָג שׂימחה (קלאַס א׳, קלאַס ב׳…) און יעדעס מאָל האָט זי געניצט די זעלבע איבערגעטריבענע אָרעם־באַװעגונגען — אַ פֿיזישער פֿאָרם פֿון טעאַטער מחוץ ווערטער.
איך אַליין האָב קױם באַמערקט אַז עס פֿעלן די איבערזעצונגען. נאָר מײַן זיץ־שכנטע האָט דאָס יאָ באַמערקט. „װאָס איז געװאָרן פֿון די איבערקעפּלעך?“ האָט זי מיר געשעפּטשעט. „עפּעס אַ טעכנישער פֿעלער?“
ווי עס ווײַזט זיך אַרויס, איז דאָס בפֿירוש נישט געווען קיין טעות.
דער עולם איז דאָך נישט קײן גולם
סאָפֿי אַבלעט, אַן אַקטריסע פֿון דער טרופּע, האָט דערצײלט אַז איר יאַפּאַנישער חבֿר אין עולם, נישט קײן ייִדיש־רעדער, האָט פֿאַרשטאַנען „מױרעס געבורטסטאָג“ אױף אַן אַנדער מדרגה מחוץ דער שפּראַך. הגם ער האָט נישט געכאַפּט דעם גאַנצן סוזשעט, האָט ער אָפּגעשאַצט די קינדערשע פּאַרשױנים, זײער באַשײַמפּערלעכע פֿרײד און דערקװיקונג.
אַבלעט האַלט אַז מע דאַרף מוטיקן דעם עולם „זיך מער אומצוקוקן“ אויף דער סצענע, װײַל אַנישט װעט מען בעיקר לײענען די אייבערקעפּלעך און „פֿאַרפֿעלן די װיזועלע דערפֿאַרונג“. די איבערזעצונגען, פֿון אַבי װאָסער פֿאָרמאַט, שטעלן מיט זיך פֿאָר קאָמפּראָמיסן. בקיצור׃ נישטאָ קײן אוניװערסאַלע לײזונג.
דער הױפּט־רעזשיסאָר דוד שנײַדער האָט מיר באַשריבן די גאַנצע פּראָגראַם — װאָס הײסט אױף ענגליש „Yiddish Theatre Reboot“ — װי אַ רײ עקספּערימענטן: „אָט איז דער בופֿעט [פֿון סטראַטעגיעס]. װאָס האָט גערירט דעם עולם? װי אַזױ האָט דאָס געװירקט אױף די אַרטיסטן די נישט ייִדיש־רעדנדיקע? װי אַזױ האָבן געאַרבעט די פֿאַרשײדענע עקספּערימענטן אַרײַנצונעמען ענגליש אינעם סצענאַר?“
צװײ־שפּראַכיקײט הינטער די קוליסן
דער אַנסאַמבל שטעלט מיט זיך פֿאָר אַ מין „װען־דיאַגראַם“: אײן קרײַז מענטשן געניטע אױף דער בינעקונסט און אַ צװײטער קרײַז מענטשן באַהאַװנטע מיט ייִדיש. אַ קלײנע צאָל ייִדיש־רעדנדיקע, פּראָפֿעסיאָנעלע אַקטיאָרן פֿאַרבינדט בײדע קרײַזן.
מע האָט אױך עקספּערימענטירט הינטער די קוליסן, בײַ די װאַרשטאַטן און רעפּעטיציעס, װוּ די 20 שפּילערס זענען זיך צונױפֿגעקומען. אַ טײל האָבן נישט תּיכּף געכאַפּט די בינע־אָנװײַזונגען ווי למשל: װעלכע זײַט איז „בינע־רעכטס“? — און אַנדערע האָבן זיך געבראָכן די צונג אױף די רעפּליקן.
דער אַקטיאָר בען װאַרדי האָט פֿאַרגליכן דעם ייִדיש־טעאַטער מיט זײַנע ייִדיש־לעקציעס: „קײן מאָל װעל איך נישט פֿאַרגעסן די װערטער װאָס איך האָב געזאָגט אױף דער בינע. זײ ׳קלעפּן זיך׳ דאָרט אַ סך פֿעסטער װי אין קלאַסצימער. איך האָב זײ צוגעבונדן צו עפּעס פֿרײדיקס, קינסטלערישס און שאַפֿערישס. דאָס פֿאַרזיגלט זײ אין מײַן מוח.“
די שפּילערס האָבן צוגעהאָלפֿן אײנער דעם צװײטן. בײַ די רעפּעטיציעס האָט מען געמאַכט אַ פּאַמעלעכן איבערגאַנג פֿון ענגליש אױף ייִדיש — און געפּרוּװט צו שפּילן דראַמאַטישער, ייִדישלעכער טאַקע, נישט „פֿון האַלדז אַרױף“ (ד״ה, בלױזן מיטן קאָפּ און מיטן קול), װי אין ענגלישן טעאַטער.
שנײַדער, 63, געדענקט נאָך דעם ייִדיש־טעאַטער פֿון אַ מאָל. זײַנע באָבע־זײדע זענען געװען ייִדיש־אַקטיאָרן און טעאַטער־מאַכערס. אין די 1980ער יאָרן האָט ער אָנגעהויבן שרײַבן אַ דיסערטאַציע בײַם אָקספֿאָרד־אוניװערסיטעט לגבי ייִדיש־דראַמעס. אָבער אַנטשטאָט צו שרײַבן אַקאַדעמישע אַנאַליזן האָט ער צום סוף געשריבן אײגענע סצענאַרן און געשפּילט קאָמעדיע אין טעאַטער, טעלעװיזיע און קינאָ.
שנײַדער געפֿינט זיך אין סאַמע מיטן דיאַגראַם.
מגדל בבֿל׃ אַן אוראַלטע מעשׂה
מע דאַרף נישט מײנען, אַז די לאָנדאָנער ייִדיש־שפּילערס ראַנגלען זיך מיט שפּאָגל־נײַע פּראָבלעמען, אָדער אַז יעדער אײנער אין אַ ייִדישן טעאַטער האָט פֿריִער געקענט „דעם קיניגינס ייִדיש“.
לױטן רומענישן ייִדיש־רעזשיסאָר אַלעקסאַנדער האַוזפֿאַטער האָט דער ייִדישער טעאַטער זינט בראשית — 1876 אין רומעניע, מיט פּונקט 150 יאָרן צוריק — תּמיד געהאַט אַ לינגװיסטיש געמישטן עולם. טאַקע דערפֿאַר זענען די זינגלידער, דער ספּעקטאַקל און דאָס איבערגעזאַלצענע שפּילן אַזױ צענטראַל.
אינעם מלוכישן ייִדיש־טעאַטער פֿון בוקאַרעשט, װאָס האָט זייער אַ לאַנגן ייִחוס, שפּילט מען עד־היום אױף מאַמע־לשון מיט רומענישע איבערקעפּלעך — כאָטש נישט די אַקטיאָרן און נישט דער עולם קענען הײַנט האַלטן אַ שמועס אױף דער שפּראַך.
שױן אין די 1950ער יאָרן האָט דער בוקאַרעשטער טעאַטער פֿאַרמאָגט אַ הײַ־טעק־סיסטעם פֿאַר אױדיאָ־איבערזעצונגען. קינדװײַז פֿלעג האַוזפֿאַטער דאָרט אױסלײַען אַ הער־אַפּאַראַט אינעם פֿאָיע און אַרײַנשטעקן די שנור אין אַ שטעפּסל בײַ זײַן זיץ. דורך אײן אױער האָט ער זיך צוגעהערט צו די אַקטיאָרן אױף ייִדיש, און דורכן צװײטן — צום רומעניש־דאָלמעטשער, װאָס האָט אױף אַ באַלקאָן געשושקעט אין מיקראָפֿאָן אַרײַן.
האַוזפֿאַטערס טאַטע, זיצנדיק לעבן אים, האָט נישט געדאַרפֿט קײן איבערזעצונג. ס׳האָט נישט אויסגעמאַכט וואָס דער טאַטע האָט געלאַכט פֿון די וויצן אַ ביסל פֿריִער.
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Their art was whimsical, elegant, ‘scandalous,’ and colorful. It was also revolutionary.
Even under glass, designer Fritzi Löw’s intricately beaded “Adam and Eve” bag manages to sparkle.
One of 200 objects and artifacts on display in “Modernity and Opulence: Women of the Wiener Werkstätte,” a major new exhibition at the Jewish Museum, presented in cooperation with the MAK — Museum of Applied Arts, Vienna, the piece captures the show’s theme of casting off old ways and old fashions.
Founded in 1903 and active through 1932, the Wiener Werkstätte, or Vienna Workshops, gave women, who were entering public life and the workforce in greater numbers, a way to turn specialized artistic skills into lifelong professions, including architecture, decorative arts, ceramics and textiles. In so doing they changed the way they and women outside the workshop saw themselves.
“For some, their first opportunities for paid artistic work were through the Wiener Werkstätte, which became a vital professional pipeline for women artists while also bringing an influx of virtuosic experimentation to the workshop,” Kristina Parsons, the museum’s assistant curator, said.
At least one-quarter of the nearly 200 women who worked for the multidisciplinary collective were of Jewish faith, Jewish descent, or came from Jewish families.
While the exhibition features many Jewish artists, it spotlights Vally Wieselthier and Felice Rix-Ueno. Their prolific work in ceramics and textile design has had a lasting influence on both disciplines.
The exhibit “brings together art, design, fashion and Jewish history to illuminate the central role Jewish women played in shaping modernity, both as visionary makers and as influential patrons,” said James S. Snyder, director of the Jewish Museum.
For example, Rix’s fanciful, colorful designs appeared on toys, tableware, wallpaper and dresses. The exhibit showcases her elegant tasseled cigarette case, a chiffon cinched waist dress as well as whimsical designs for a papier-mâche bird and another for a toy carriage pulled by a dog.
The early 1900s ushered in the era of the “New Woman,” a time when women were shedding the boned and corseted fashions of the past in favor of more fluid, and even fanciful, garments. It was also a time when women increasingly pursued higher education, fought for suffrage, and challenged restrictive gender roles and clothing.
That sensibility is captured in the dozens of fashion postcards on display, which served as both advertisements and collectibles. In one, a woman wearing a sky-blue turban and a form-fitting white-and-black dress trimmed with fur glances casually over her right shoulder as she walks a small black dog. In another, a woman peers assuredly from beneath a plumed hat, her curly hair cut in a bob, scarlet red lipstick her only hint of makeup.
As Parsons explained, the Wiener Werkstätte’s fashion department allowed women to directly address public perceptions of modern femininity by designing clothes and accessories that they, and other like-minded women, could incorporate into daily life.
“Women’s dress was an important point of convergence between larger impulses toward reform and feminist politics — fashion was then, as now, understood for its capacity to be a revolutionary statement,” she said.
It’s an idea captured in Wilhelm List’s 1910 “Young Woman in Undergarments.” The oil painting depicts a woman believed to be Wally Neuzil, who later trained as a nurse. She wears ruffled “umbrella drawers,” which fall loosely around her knees, and a sleeveless chemise. The garments allow for ease of movement and comfort in one’s own skin.
The exhibition also shows how Jewish women such as the noted socialite and arts patron Adele Bloch-Bauer and the journalist and salon hostess Berta Zuckerkandl helped ensure the workshop’s success.
In turn, upper-class clientele, including progressive Jewish intellectuals, commissioned furniture and interiors, wore Werkstätte fashions, sent Rosh Hashanah greetings on Werkstätte-designed stationery, and celebrated the workshop’s creations.
During its 30 years of operation, the workshop produced hundreds of patterns. Between 1910 and 1917 alone, it created more than 500 designs. One wall of the gallery is given over to textiles. Bold reds and purples evoke coral formations, while zigzag patterns combine purple and orange with chocolate and persimmon.
Aside from textiles and illustrations, there are also dozens of ceramics, such as Susi Singer’s design for a green and gold oven that, with its cake-like tiers, looks as if it belongs in a Disney animated film.
Artist Vally Wieselthier’s mirror, fashioned from glazed earthenware and adorned with a trio of busts, hangs near a collection of her outsized ceramic heads. The heads, some of which stand nearly two-feet tall, were modeled after mythological and classical figures, but also shopkeepers and everyday people. The works drew both praise and ridicule, dismissed by one newspaper as “scandalous bimbo business.”
While the Werkstätte sputtered out in 1932 for a host of reasons, including poor management, financial troubles, a resistance to mass production, and a decline in wealthy patrons, its influence remains.
According to Parsons, “In bringing together highlights from the remarkable body of work made by Jewish women for the Werkstätte, this exhibition spotlights their creativity, ambition, and influence, while inviting visitors to explore a group of artists who embraced decoration as a central expression of modernity.”
Modernity and Opulence: Women of the Wiener Werkstätte continues through Nov. 15, 2026 at the Jewish Museum.
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