Up to this point I've dealt with events leading to my engagement to my life's companion, Hershl Andres. Our marriage took place in the magnificent new edifice of the Park View Club on the 8th of January, 1922. My relatives in Dallas gave added luster to the wedding ceremony by the huge attendance of every branch of the family. There were in-laws, cousins, aunts and uncles, and many youthful guests outside of the family . . . and all danced to the joyful tunes of the wedding "klezmorim.1"
I, the bride, however, really was acquainted with very few of the invited guests. The greetings and good wishes of all these fine guests made a deep, heartfelt impression upon me . . . a reception that would truly have brought tears of joy to my eyes. However, I had promised Hershl that there would be no tears shed underneath the "chupeh2". Because of my promise, I had to hold back my joyous and anguished tears, and hide them deep within me. My Aunt Tema anxiously stood by, awaiting an emotional and tearful outburst, since I didn't have my father and mother, and sisters and brother present to celebrate my good fortune and rejoice at this joyous and propitious wedding.
The reception and the sumptuous holiday feast that followed, - which included home-made "gefilte fish 3", roast duck and chicken, stuffed "heldzlekh4", home-baked strudel, cakes and all sorts of confections . . . not to speak of a vast quantity and variety of wines and liquors. . . all served to raise the celebration to its highest pinnacle. Since my husband, Hershl, was already an American citizen, I automatically became an American citizen too, according to the law at that time.
Dallas, in 1922, was a city of about 100,000 inhabitants. The Jewish residents, with their widely branched families, were a considerable addition to the population of Dallas at that time. I quickly found a niche for myself in its friendly atmosphere. My mother-in-law and father-in-law drew me closely into the family circle, and I immediately felt a great love for them.
My mother- and father-in-law had come from Russia to their children in America in 1907. They all lived together in a single large house at 1919 North Pearl Street. My father-in-law, Reb Jacob Leib Andres, was a compassionate man, with a pious belief in the future of the Jewish people, teaching the Torah and preparing his then young pupils for their Bar Mitzvahs5. Bat Mitzvahs6 were totally unheard of in those days.
These same young men grew up to become civic leaders, businessmen, doctors, lawyers, engineers, builders . . . each according to his own capabilities. They married - both girls and boys - those within their own sphere, according to the Jewish custom. Mixed marriages were practically unheard of at that time. And when such a union did take place, it was considered one of the biggest calamities by the family concerned.
Jews did indeed live amongst their non-Jewish American neighbors and were greatly esteemed by them. The non-Jewish American citizens of Texas had long recognized the worth of the Jewish people who had settled in their Texan communities, for their involvement in civic planning, research, and in various other fields of culture and development. The Jews who had already dwelt in Texas for close to a century, had long ago adopted the common tongue of the people, which was English, of course. Many of these Jews had even lost sight of the fact that Jews were still scattered over the length and breadth of the earth, and spoke Yiddish just as they did in the old country.
To all intents and purposes, the old home had disappeared, and the feeling amongst these long-time resident Jews was that speaking Yiddish was only for the new arrivals ("greenhorns") and too much respect for the latter (from the native Jews) was not forthcoming for a long while . . . Bit by bit I tackled the English language. I was able to read, but not one word did I understand. I learned most of my skimpy English from merchandise that was displayed on the shelves of our grocery. And I did quickly learn whole sentences.
* * * * Hershl's oldest brother, Meyer, and his wife Chaya, arrived in America several years later than his brother Issac, and his wife, Anuta. And with them came his younger 11 year old brother Abraham ('Abie'), who was later to become Dr. Abraham Andrews of Brooklyn, N.Y.
Meyer was a capable tailor from Feodosia, in the Crimea (Russia). His dear wife was an unusually competent housewife. Their three children - a son, Alex; a daughter, Dena; and a little girl, Sarah - dwelt in a small house, several doors from us. All the Andreses lived as a closely knit, harmonious entity.
The Andres children were all reared in European fashion, so to speak; which meant living with respect and regard for others and for all human values. Being imbued with these characteristics, the Andres family won the confidence and friendship of their neighbors in the community.
Our dwelling stood adjacent to our grocery, which was in partnership with Hershl's older brother Issac and his wife Anuta. This was a small wooden building on the corner. It was on a main thoroughfare, though the center of the street lacked cobblestones or pavement - and a trolley car ran past our establishment. Because of the unpaved street, the house was unbearable because of the sand and mud tracked in . . . and the store brought "small pickings" for the families of the partners. However, who needed more?
The two storied house was the property of Mama and Papa; that is of my in-laws, and of the brothers, Issac and Hershl. Abraham (Abie) worked when and where he could. He wasn't too choosy, as long as he could continue with his studies. It was no light matter to bear the strain of his exacting studies; to undergo exams, then spend his evenings working at whatever was available. In 1924 he received his diploma as Doctor of Medicine. Then followed his internship at Brooklyn Hospital, where he met the nurse, Bess Shiber, whom he married. They lived comfortably in Brooklyn together with their two fine children . . .
On the 13th of June, 1923, when our oldest son Reubin was born, I was 24 years old, and Hershl was almost 36. I became aware of what it meant to become the mother of a son. I learned how to take care of an infant - and quite a screecher he was . . . (May G-d watch over us and save us). His crying did not permit us to sleep . . . And Hershl had to rise early to open the store. Patrons were already pounding at the door! . . . at a moment when Hershl had just fallen asleep, precisely when the clock struck six. The screecher was at it once more . . . I would take him in my arms and proceed to pace the length and breadth of our home. I attended to all of the infant's needs and then hurried down to the store to help out as much as I was able, in order to lighten Hershl's burden.
Those early days were not entirely untroubled . . . but we were young, and the anxiety of a livelihood wasn't there. Our needs were few and we were provided with all that life required. However, there was scarcely time for me to read or learn the language of the land. We were harnessed to the yoke of our daily pursuit of a livelihood. Nevertheless, time was not at a standstill. The infant, Reubin, turned out well . . . ceased his screeching, and just when we could catch our breath once more, along came our second child.
On the 24th of April, 1925, our good fortune brought us a second son. Beryl was born. I was not happy with the name Beryl, for there immediately came to mind the sobriquet "Beryl-Shmerl" . . . So I thought that we would call him "Dov" in Hebrew. But a child isn't called "Dov" here, so we transposed it to the dear child's name of "Dave" and in doting Yiddish he became "Daveleh". Dave was a quiet, calm infant . . . not a screecher, and life took on a more normal course.
The children grew, giving much joy to their Mother and Dad and to their Grandma and Grandpa . . . as well as to their aunts and uncles.
Our older son, Reubin, soon became a "breadwinner". Every morning I would teach him a Yiddish poem, such as "Dem Zeidn's Tabac Pushke" (Grandpa's Tobacco Pouch) by Leah Kapelovich Hoffman and "When you sometimes pass #3 Charlotte Street," as well as other children's poems. He would commit it to memory, and a few moments later, in his bare feet, he would run down, and with great glee recite the piece he had just mastered. His Aunt Anuta, very much enthused, would give him a penny for each recital.
Reubin's joy went far beyond bounds. He could hardly await the early morning hours, when his mother was able to spend some time with him and teach him something new. The poems would just gush from his mouth like crystalline waters - clear and distinct . . . and the pennies gradually filled the canister that stood atop the wooden icebox in the kitchen.
- 1. klezmorim - wedding musicians
- 2. chupeh - bridal canopy
- 3. gefilte fish - chopped stuffed fish
- 4. heldzlekh - the skin of chicken necks stuffed
- 5. Bar Mitzvah - 13th birthday religious celebration proclaiming the coming age of the young boy.
- 6. Bat Mitzvah - now a new celebration marking the coming of age of young Jewish girls.