Lost Paradise Chapt 8

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    CHAPTER EIGHT

    We Were Eight"

    QCJR family was presently reduced to eight bythe marriage of my sisters Gertie and Lea. To everybody'sastonishment, Gertie married her uncle (and mine), my fa-ther's younger brother Sam, who had recently emigrated fromUla. Like ourselves, Sam had come to America at the sugges-tion of Mr. Gold. This time the amiable junk-dealer madegood his promise of a job. He gave Sam the spare room in hishouse in Passaic, staked him to a second-hand utility wagonand an aging horse, and set him up as an itinerant peddler ofhousehold wares. Sam spent his Sundays in our house, andafter supper Gertie would accompany him to the MadisonStreet car, the first of several conveyances, not counting theDuane Street ferry, which relayed him back to Passaic. OneSunday the two left the house as usual, but reappeared half anhour later and announced that they had decided to get married.

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    148 A LOST PARADISEMuch to my surprise, my father saw no objection in theirclose family relationship. To me it seemed ludicrous for twopeople who knew each other so intimately to marry. On theother hand, the marriage had the advantage of being unusual,and I hastened to spread the news among my playmates on thestreet. None of my friends could match so sensational anevent. I could now boast that my oldest sister possessed ahusband and uncle, and I an uncle and a brother-in-law, all inone person.The marriage ofmy sister Lea was less sensational, thoughequally unexpected. Lea worked in a ladies' garment factoryon Canal Street and, except for attendance at night school,generally spent her evenings at home. She was small anddumpy, had a mass of blond hair and a pug nose, and was shyand self-conscious with strangers. We were therefore sur-prised to hear that she had been seen walking on East Broad-way with an unknown man several nights after supper. Therumor finally reached my father, who made a scene about itone morning at breakfast, demanding to be told what mannerof man would go walking with a presumably respectable girlwithout first presenting himself to her family. What waseven worse, his daughter and her unidentified beau had beenobserved sitting together on our stoop! Nice people, my fathersaid witheringly, did not sit on stoops, where they became thesubjects of the ribald speculation of the world as it saunteredby. Lea, weeping, confessed that she had been walking outwith a man she had met some time ago at night school. Theyhad also sat on the stoop once, but only by reason of fatigue.The man's name was Mannie Mannie Kalb. He was a house-painter, and he lived at home with his father and mother.Pressed for further details, Lea confessed that he stammeredslightly and had little hair. But against these unimportantdefects she claimed for him the virtues of industry and goodnature, and for his parents piety and respectability. She hadn'tasked Mannie up because she was afraid his stammer would

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    "Then We Were Eight" 149subject him to ridicule. My father, though alive to the neces-sity of marrying off Lea to the first respectable suitor (re-spectability and a job were all that he demanded) , listened im-passively and gave her an ultimatum. She must either produceMannie Kalb for inspection forthwith or drop him alto-gether.Two or three evenings later Mannie paid us a formal visitand was at once subjected to the closest scrutiny. His two de-ficiencies were decidedly more marked than Lea had indi-cated, both appearing to have reached completion. His stam-mer, now aggravated by nervousness, made conversation withhim almost impossible and much embarrassed Lea, who vali-antly and (for her) rather defiantly attempted repeatedly tohelp him out in his struggle with some particularly refractoryword. Though I could hardly keep from laughing at his gro-tesque, frantic efforts to make himself understood, a simplepathos about his helplessness drew me toward him. All thesame, my mother was obliged to make occult, threateningsigns to me from behind the unfortunate suitor's chair to ob-serve decorum. And somehow, by means of a variety of facialcontortions and desperate gesticulation Mannie Kalb managedto project a naive and kind personality that bore outmy sister'sopinion of him. No one laughed even during the critical mo-ments when he seemed irrevocably sunk in unintelligibility.As she usually did in moments of crisis, my mother brought intea and cakes. Mannie, grateful for the respite, drank glassafter glass, and so did the rest of us, hardly knowing what elseto do. Suddenly Mannie pushed his glass aside, rose, advancedto my father, and tried to speak. It was a long and painful at-tempt. He had reached a climax of incoherence when Lea,moved by shame and pity, hastily took over and interpretedthe furious struggle for expression we had witnessed as Man-nie' s announcement of their engagement. At this intelligence,my father, wasting no time on Mannie, addressed himself toLea and drew from her such details about the state of her

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    150 A LOST PARADISElover's finances and kindred matters as might determine ourfamily's attitude to the proposed alliance. Satisfied at last onall

    points,he blessed his

    daughter,shook hands with the

    per-spiring, happy Mannie and suggested a speedy meeting be-tween himself and the senior Kalb for the discussion of ar-rangements for the wedding.The elder Kalb, while a good man with an unsullied recordfor piety, was, like his son, a house-painter and therefore at adisadvantage as a m'chutan (in-law). One need not be ashamedof a m'chutan who was in business for himself, one who, forexample, ran a butcher's shop, a shoe store (a cobbler, like atailor, was taboo, as in the old country; tailors, however, werefortunately nonexistent in America, where everyone woreready-made clothes), a "men's furnishings" store, a kosherdelicatessen. But one could be proud of a m'chutan who wasengaged in "big" business, an employer of labor on a grandscale, say a proprietor of a sweatshop with five or ten em-ployees, or even a "boss" carpenter or painter with two orthree men under him. One could hardly boast in the synagogueabout a m'chutan who was only a day laborer, or bring himaround to meet the congregation. Yet (as my mother pointedout to him) my father was in no position to talk about kovod(honor). Lea had no dowry. She was, in fact, penniless. Andwhile dowries were less important in America than they were"at home," a man could hardly be blamed for expecting"something" to go with his bride. Granted that Mannie wasno longer young, and that his defects were serious enough todecrease his value in the marriage market, nevertheless as aman he was worth "something." And if he had had the senseto place himself in the hands of a shadchen, he might havefetched a decent sum, though perhaps not a fortune. Mymother recalled to my father the unfortunate case of her ownsister's daughter Beylke, in Russia. For two years nowBeylke's marriage had been held up for lack of a sufficientdowry. My mother had a stack of letters from her sister in

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    "Then We Were Eight" 1 5 1Vitebsk relating to Beylke's still unsettled position. Beylkewas in no sense an objectionable creature. Yet the only suitorthe shadchen was able to scare up for her demanded a dowryof one hundred rubles. He had finally come down to ninety,and it was at that figure that both he and his mother took theirrock-bottom stand. My aunt's frantic efforts to raise that sumhad so far netted only fifty rubles (ten of which my motherhad somehow obtained and contributed without, of course, theknowledge of my father) . In her last letter, the distractedmother had written that she had made a supreme effort toeffect a downward revision of the impossible sum. But thesuitor's mother remained heartlessly, even godlessly ob-durate. "I'd rather see him rot," was her final crushing answer.And there the matter now stood.My father took the hint and accepted the situation withwhat grace he could command. He did not invite the seniorKalb to his

    synagogue,but

    acceptedhis invitation to dinner,

    though not before assuring himself of the house-painter'sstrict observance of the dietary laws. The invitation includedthe rest of the family. Molly and I, who had a propensity tolaugh at everything, were warned to behave. The dinner wentoff without a hitch. The senior Kalb offered my father thehead of the table, which my father accepted as his due and asthe symbol of the house-painter's understanding and ac-ceptance of a secondary role in his future relationship with ourfamily. Mrs. Kalb had cooked a very large dinner, the climaxofwhich was a great chunk of sweet-and-sour meat. It was myfather's favorite dish next to gefilte fish, and he looked pleased,unaware that Lea had given her future mother-in-law the hint.Mrs. Kalb, a large, fat woman, resplendent in a long blacktaffeta dress, and wearing a small gold watch attached to agold chain long enough to encompass her ample neck twice,served the meal and, like all housewives, did not sit down atthe table until the dessert, of stewed prunes and dried apricots,had tapered off the repast. My mother owned no jewelry ex-

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    152 A LOST PARADISEcept an imitation mother-of-pearl pin in the shape of a fish,with a tiny black bead for an eye, which she wore at her throaton ceremonious occasions. The scaly pink fish now appearedinsignificant alongside Mrs. Kalb's watch and chain. Andwhen Mrs. Kalb finally sat down at the table, my mother sub-tly established her own disdain of worldly possessions and hercultural superiority over her hostess by casual references toher eminent father, Reb Shnayer Tresskanov of Vitebsk, andthe love of austerity he had inculcated in his children. Mr.Kalb called my father "Reb," and Mannie, more at ease in hisown house, stammered less and succeeded in telling, albeitwith a certain difficulty, a joke relating to the foibles of house-painters. When we were ready to take our leave, the elderKalb produced a bottle of whisky and two long, thin silvergoblets, gold-faced on the inside. The two machutonim hadone drink apiece, my father saying: "Sholom aleichein" andMr. Kalb answering: "Aleichem sholom" This ceremoniousexchange made the engagement of Lea and Mannie official.

    I had hoped that at least one ofmy sisters would marry intoa family rich enough to afford an elaborate wedding atPythagoras Hall, with a string of hired carriages to take usthere. It was true that Pythagoras Hall was only half a blockfrom our house, but I knew that proximity to Pythagoras Halldid not deter affluent or ostentatious families residing closeto it from conducting their weddings on a scale that imposedhired carriages. The Hirsch wedding was a case in point. Mr.Hirsch lived even closer to Pythagoras Hall than we did, butwhen he married off his eldest daughter, the wedding partywent in five open carriages from the Hirsch residence on EastBroadway through Rutgers Street, turned left at HenryStreet, turned left again at Jefferson Street into East Broad-way, and drew up, as if after a long journey, at PythagorasHall. It was a most impressive cortege, and crowds ofpedestrians, myself among them, followed the slow-movingvehicles. People watched us from the sidewalks and from

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    "Thm We Were Eight" 153windows, admiring the rented white satin dress of the brideand the shiny stovepipe hats of the groom and the more im-portant male relatives. Having cleverly melted into a party ofthe children of invited guests, I slipped unnoticed intoPythagoras Hall, which presented a vision of opulence. Theceremony took place in a richly decorated room, I standing ona chair to get a better view. Under an elaborately embroideredchuffah (canopy) of red velvet, a stout, bearded rabbi in atight-fitting surtout with velvet lapels intoned the service in astrong falsetto and with many coloratura embellishments ofhis own. First the rabbi addressed himself to the bride andgroom in turn. But soon after, intoxicated with his ownvirtuosity, he looked away and gazed at the ceiling as he sang,like an artist at a recital glorying in his mastery of his art. Atthe end of the rabbi's eloquent performance, the bride was ro-tated around the groom several times. The rabbi then lifted thebridal veil, and the bride touched the rim of the wineglass thathe held out to her. The groom sipped next; then the ring wasplaced on the bride's finger. The room was now hushed as therabbi, carefully wrapping the wineglass in a napkin and placingit on the floor, crushed it loudly underfoot.The crunching noise set off great shouts of "Mazoltov!(Congratulations!)," the machutonim embraced, the violin,cornet, drum, and piano, which had been waiting for this verysignal, broke into "Choson, Kaloh, mazoltov! (Groom, bride,congratulations!)." The married pair sailed away in a danceacross the length of the room, between two long lines ofguests formed to provide a narrow lane for the exhibition.These favored guests clapped their hands in rhythm with themusic, sang and laughed and called the bride and groom bytheir first names. Having initiated the revels, the couple re-tired to throne-like chairs at one end of the room to watchtheir guests cavort and to receive the personal felicitations ofthose able to make their way to them through the great pressof celebrators. Strangely enough, the groom seemed to be the

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    154 A L ST PARADISEmore popular of the pair, especially with the male guests, whoflocked around him and whispered in his ear such things asmade him

    laughand blush. When the

    generalexuberance had

    begun to subside, an impressive-looking master of ceremoniesstood up on a chair, motioned the drummer to execute a roll,loud and long, and in the ensuing silence announced in a voiceof thunder that supper was ready in the great room downstairsand ordered the gentlemen to escort their ladies below to thestrains of a grand march that the orchestra would immediatelystrike up. Led by the bride and groom, with the machutonimfollowing behind, a procession of couples formed and marchedto the quick step of the grand march. But not for long; forsome of the guests, overeager to get to the banquet hall first,broke ranks and ran ahead. In a moment the orderly marchhad become a stampede, with the children (myself amongthem) snaking their way to the forefront and rushing down thewooden steps with a great clatter. Down in the dining-roomconfusion reigned for a long time. People who had rushed toseat themselves near the bride and groom had to be forciblydislodged by the master of ceremonies, who held a paper withthe seating arrangement and could not be swerved from hisdetermination to fill the long bridal table according to thestrictest protocol.The supper was the most varied and lavish I had thus farencountered either at home or at the house of relatives. For,besides such common hors d'oeuvres as herring (this herring, tobe sure, was "schmaltz" and therefore a cut above the tough,salty variety we could afford at home), raw onions, malinki(black olives), helzel (stuffed neck), new dill pickles, andchopped liver, there was chicken fricassee as the main dishand crown ofthe repast. I had known chicken exclusively in itsaustere boiled state, garnished with whole, waterloggedonions or accompanied by masses of noodles, the whole swim-ming in an overgenerous supply of broth. But chicken fricasseewas so special a form as to make it seem improbable that it

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    "Then We Were Eight" 155could ever be served in any home, however pretentious. It wasknown by reputation to most of the children of the neighbor-hood, but only a few had ever come face to face with it. Icould now testify that it deserved its fame. A huge earthen-ware casserole was placed on our table. Its cover being re-moved, a soft aromatic vapor rose from the interior and en-gaged our nostrils. And inside the vast dish lay who knowshow many golden chickens in ruins, in innumerable pieces,large and small, like a scientific assemblage of the parts of pre-historic creatures. Breasts, wings, legs, giblets, gizzardslanguished in glistening, brownish gravy in inviting disorder!The supper might well have come to an end with the fricassee.But there followed a large variety of honeyed desserts and,for a finish, piping-hot noodle soup. Wine was served only atthe bridal table, where toasts seemed never-ending, exceptduring the chicken-fricassee course, when a silence fell on theroom and only the sounds of chicken bones being crunchedand the smacking of lips could be heard.At one point during the dessert the master of ceremoniesopened and read aloud a telegram that had just arrived. I wasastonished at the extravagance of the sender, for telegramswere too costly for joyful occasions. The message was from anear relation of the bride residing in faraway Baltimore. It wasboth ingenious and witty. As all telegrams were restricted(I believed) to ten words, I marveled at the sender's cleverchoice of words. Indeed, the restriction had the positive effectof challenging his ingenuity. It would have taken, ordinarily,twice that number of words to express sentiments so variousand complex. "Hundred years happiness bride groom maytroubles be little ones." Such was the message which wastranslated into Yiddish for the benefit of the elderly machu-tonim and guests combining neatly the obvious with awitty play on words that brought laughter and applause fromeveryone there, even from the children.

    This was the kind of wedding I had hoped for. And on

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    156 A LOST PARADISEfirst beholding Mannie Kalb I felt that there might be achance that his deficiencies would be counterbalanced by acorresponding affluence, and that he and Lea would be marriedIn Pythagoras Hall. But that hope was soon dispelled. ForLea assured us that Mrs. Kalb's gold watch and chain repre-sented the sum of the family's savings. Indeed, the economicsituation of the Kalbs was little better than our own. Perhapstheir prospects were better than ours, for they invested heavilyin lottery tickets, buying at regular intervals as many as threeat a time at fifty cents apiece. They had been buying lotterytickets steadily for three years, and by the law of averagesthey were due soon to win five hundred dollars. In the mean-time they were in no position to stage an expensive andfashionable wedding. So my sister's marriage took place oneSunday morning in our house before a limited number ofrelatives and friends. Though resigned to a small wedding athome, Lea pleaded with my father for a white satin weddingdress, veil and slippers to match, the rental of which wouldcost seven and a half dollars. My mother could not but protestat such extravagance in a man who eternally preachedeconomy. Nevertheless, my father yielded to Lea's plea, andas he raised the money by himself, my mother's objectionhad little force. I was glad not only for Lea's sake, but for myown. For while I could not boast to my friends about awedding in Pythagoras Hall, I still could talk in a casual wayabout my sister's wedding outfit. Certainly the dress was inevery way as fine as the one Miss Hirsch had worn. It mayeven have been the very same, for it came from the mostpatronized wedding outfitters on Essex Street. I had seen oneexactly like it on the life-size dummy bride which, holding onto the arm of a life-size dummy groom, stood, smiling andradiant, behind the huge plate-glass window of the shop.On the pressing invitation of her parents-in-law Leamoved into their tenement on Rivington Street. There sheresided for some time in "idleness," claiming that she was not

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    "Then We Were Eight" 1 57permitted to "touch a thing" except to do her own room andher own and Mannie's laundry. Such indulgence was unusual.But Mannie was an only child, and the elder Mrs. Kalb, whencalled upon to justify Lea's luxurious idleness, laughingly saidthat nothing had changed in her house except that she hadacquired a boarder in the shape of a daughter-in-law. Mrs.Kalb's gain was also ours. We now had more room and theuse of still another extra blanket when the weather grew cold.Also, the withdrawal of a member of my father's side of thefamily left the opposing factions less unbalanced than theyhad been heretofore. Tension still continued to be felt like afaint but ever-threatening undercurrent. But Lea's marriageand absence held in check for a time the deep enmities thatdivided our house.