The Biography of Herman Shooster

The Biography of Herman Shooster, the son of a tailor who was the son of a shoemaker.

Herman Shooster

THE SON OF A TAILOR WHO WAS THE SON OF A SHOEMAKER

Herman Shooster

75 76 77 77 80 81 81 81 83 83 86 87 88 89 90 90 92 92 93 94

No Money Birth Control Helping Casey Born at Home

HERMAN SHOOSTER 8 My Father 12 2008 - August 13 2009 - October 13 2010 - Feburary 13 A Jewish History Lesson

Building a Property Business Fooling Around Herman as a Student Varnishing the Floor The Mettle of a Man Tears Drop in His Soup

DORA SHOOSTER 17 The Shtetl 21 Devorah Chumot 24 A Dangerous Fall 25 Education 26 The Pear Tree 26 Early Life 28

Careers

The Shooster Brothers

Judaism

Atlantic City

Harry’s Marriage Proposal Trouble in the Corporation

Benjamin Chomut / Emmett / Benzy

Reflections Frank’s Teeth

30 31 32 32 34 36 36 37 37 38 39 40 41 42 42 43 44 44 45 45

Another Forced Marriage Permission to Leave

A Testament to Frank Shooster

The Voyage Chocolate The SS Rhein A Place to Stay Finding a Job A New Outfit The Boyfriend Rose Engelman Falling in Love

A Dream Home

GROWING UP 102

Born into Tough Times

107 109 110 114 116 119 119 123

The Kid

My parents Early Years

Elementary and Middle School Chester High School ‘38-’42

Marriage

Not a Penny In The Life

The Neighborhood A Stone’s Throw

Another Pregnancy

Teen Years

A New Place Oy Vey Iz Mir Varicose Veins

THE WAR YEARS 140 Timeline 1939 140 Timeline 1941 140 Timeline 1942 141 Timeline 1943 142 Timeline 1944 143 Timeline 1945 145 Timeline 1946 148

Vacation

Playing Cards

FRANK SHOOSTER 52 The Corporation 53 Early life 56 Family Name 56 Blitzkrieg! 58 The Shoemaker 58 The Shoemaker’s Son 61

A Soldier’s Perspective

154 154 154 155 155 158 160 160 160

Fort Ord

1 Jan ‘44 - 9 Mar ‘44 Destination Classified Gusika, New Guinea

The Double ‘oo’ in ShOOster Tanta Mary (1885 - 1978) Mr. And Mrs. Frank Shooster Dissolve the Partnership Isaac Shooster (May 30, 1921) Harry Graduates High School More Competition

63 67 72 72 73 74

21 APR ‘44 - 9 Nov ‘44 - 7 months The Marianas Turkey Shoot Volunteering for Paratrooper Bob Hope Loew’s Malaria Circuit Sjoriboe Area / Noemfoor

160 164 165 165 166 167 182 183 183 190

Lingayen Gulf / Luzon / Phillipines Tagaytay Area / Cavite / Luzon

FLORIDA 382

Broward Business Services

Bacolod City / Negros PanAy / Iloilo - July ‘45

386 388 388 394 397 400 400 401 402 403 408 412 413 413 417 418 419 423 423 425 426 428 428 433 434 385 387 389 391

Ding-A-Ling The Accountant Little-by-Little Acquisitions

Cebu - Aug. ‘45

Home

Death Camps

Frank and Carol Brooks

Summary of Testimony of

Self-reliance

Issac Emmett Back Home

Everything by Hand

Beepers

The Cutting Edge

WAR LETTERS 193

Computer Telephony Convergence

Stateside Letters Stateside Letters

Extortion!

195 208

Shop-by-phone

Overseas Letters THE AFTERMATH OF WAR 294 The Aftermath 296 The Man You Know Me To Be FRANK SHOOSTER, SR. 317 The Son of a Shoemaker 317 Herman’s Diary Excerpt 318 My Dad NEW BEGINNINGS 324 Song Writing 324 Two Hearts Have I 324 When you’re in Love 325 Hold You 326 Next Steps 328 Maried Life 330 Home Sweet Townhouse 331 The Sandbox 332 Notes to First Child (1953) 334 Pages from a Diary 339 A Drive-In Restaurant 350 Shooster’s Night Watch 359 Times A Changing - The Bridges 359 Wick’s Big Moe 361

Bob Case

777 Properties

Love is in the Air - Diane Shooster

Family Business

The 800 Number Revolution Creating a Call Center Interactive Response Technology

Software Patent Going with the Flow The Festval Flea Market

Kelley’s

Transitions

Global Response

Your Brand / Our Passion! Global Response North A Remarkable Story

Always with Me

The Advent of the Drive-Through Restaurant

362 364 371 372 376 376 377 378

Exit Ramp

1960-1967 National Food Marketers Shooster’s Frozen Specialty 1969-1972 Cherry Hill Foods 1972-1974 United Coffee

Unemployed

Vita-Slim

Schuster beit Vater, Schvester Fng. Jircder est Juden Father Works as a Shoemaker 1912 - Artifacts collection of Yad Vashem Museum

Resume 1973

The Highlights of this Memoir:

The Earliest Photos of The Family. Interviews With Dora Shooster (1892-1976) Frank Shooster Sr. vs. The City Of Chester - Supreme Court Of Pennsylvania Ruling

V-Mail During The War Both Sent And Received Secret Documents From The War, Declassified Herman’s Own Words Describing His Experience With PTSD Requiem For Frank Shooster, Sr. Married Life With Kids Lyrics By Herman Shooster The Story Of Ding-A-Ling Answering Service The Story of Global Response Dedicated to my family, grandchildren and all the future generations. May the past help you understand the future. Joeseph & Becky Leuchter, Eliana, Fancy and Nathan Herman Jessica & Natalie Leuchter

Abigail Leuchter Forrest Shooster Max Shooster Jake Shooster Logan Shooster Jay Shooster Lauren Shooster Tommy Shooster Jason Shooster Jaime Shooster Carly Shooster Cassidy Shooster

Shooster Publishing www.shoosterpublishing.com 954-537-1200 Margate, Florida 33068

HERMAN SHOOSTER PREFACE

Patterned Design Painted Herman Shooster 1953 Watercolor

“My father always wanted to write a book about our family history. My gift to him is its accomplishment.” - Stephen Shooster I will help others whenever I can. I will get back up when I fall down. I will face my fears with a smile. I will think of you every day. I will honor your name in everything I do. I will draw strength from your teachings.

Major Events During the Life of Herman Shooster The Great Depression of 1929 The Rise and Fall of Nazi Germany The Holocaust The Atomic Bomb

The Cold War and the Red Scare The Racial Integration of Schools The Invasion of Korea The Cuban Missile Crisis The Assassinations of JFK and MLK The Invasion of Vietnam The Moon Landing The Resignation of Richard Nixon The Iranian Revolution The Rise of Thatcherism and Reaganism The Destruction of the Challenger The Fall of the Berlin Wall The First Gulf War The Dot Com Bubble and Bust The Terrorist Attack on 9-11

The Great Recession The War on Terror

MY FATHER Foreword, Feb. 16, 2014 By Stephen Shooster

My father always wanted to write the story of his family. Many years ago, he wrote the framework deliberately expressing himself with plain-spoken humility. I have tried my best to grant him that wish. In writing my father’s memoir, I feel a sense of completion. Working every morn- ing for years, I felt compelled like never before to get it done. Some of my fondest memories were sitting with him, side-by-side reading our notes and adjusting them as directed. A memoir is a form of discovery. Perhaps the most poignant thing I learned is that my father worked almost every day of his life, from high school through his sunset years, including the difficult time near the end, as he was receiving blood transfusions. I will never forget him asking me to take him to work after 4-6 hours of treatment. He never missed a day’s work without a very good reason. 1972, at the age of 48, he was out of work for two years. I believe that experience may have been the toughest of his entire life. He was lost. Not a good place to be with four kids ready for college. How he navigated those times and what he ended up doing are now remark- able and lasting. At the age of 50, he began to build a business starting with ten employees to one of over a thousand. Finally, at the age of 88, he won The Sun-Sentinel Excalibur Award - businessman of the year. It was a lifetime achievement. One of the key tenets my father lived by was the simple expression; Face It. In doing so, he told us, Fears usually outweigh reality. Facing them will frequently dispel whatever is holding you back. Boy, did he face it. Fresh out of high school, impatient with the army draft during WWII, he enlisted. Deployed as a medic in the Pacif- ic theater, he volunteered for paratrooper duty. His application stated ‘full and bounding,’ but he was denied. The division was already full because all of his peers stepped up, too!

It is no wonder his was called The Greatest Generation. My father returned from the war deeply scarred by combat fatigue. Combat fatigue is also known to doctors as a psychiatric collapse, or in common parlance, a nervous breakdown. Back then, mental illness was considered a character flaw. To reveal it, was to admit weakness. My dad had the insight to recognize a medical condition. Even so, it would be a year before he told his parents. He opted for psychiatric treatment at his own expense, secretly working a night job to pay. He recovered, but not without suffering through multiple electroshock therapy treat- ments. He went on to marry and live what we would consider more than a normal life, a life to be emulated. One thing that my dad always wanted, was financial independence. He dreamed that one day he would be his own boss. His vision was large enough to imagine being able to bring his kids into a business with him. Not only did all four of us join, but most of our spouses too! My father’s life was marked by challeng- es. He boiled those down to another expres- sion: All you have to do to succeed is get up one more time than you fall down. Smiling he would hold a brass chamber pot he kept ‘under his coffee table at the office and say,’ I’ll always have a pot to piss in. We all laughed. In later years, my father faced it again and again, conquering multiple life-threatening medical conditions, but in the end, he could not beat leukemia. Can you imagine what might have happened if America did not drop the nucle- ar bomb on Japan? For us, this is a theoreti- cal exercise, but for him it was existential. He and his comrades were all preparing for the invasion of the main islands of Japan. Based on their war experience, they already knew the enemy was groomed and hardened for a tenacious fight. Casualties upwards of 70% were expected.

with health care, and a clean working envi- ronment. His was the largest funeral I have ever witnessed. It was miles long, a full house at the synagogue with people standing in the back. He wasn’t a business titan, never set out to be. When I asked him he said his mission was to be the best on his block. Life is a miracle; we owe it all to our progenitors. We are the combination of all of their effort, all their hard work, all their struggles. Not just their struggles either, but everyones. We live in a world full of people. On a normal day, we fail to realize the epic nature of life itself. We are mere driftwood on a giant canvas riding an ocean of time, and even though it seems that we have little ability to affect the world, and even though we frequently find things are out of control, we can find some measure of solace, some measure of organization, some small cata- lyst of all the things to come by honoring our parents. That is why I write. That is why it is important to read. That is why this memoir of my father is not just his story but mine, and not just mine, but ours, and not just ours, but the future. Lessons learned, experiences shared, the summoning of all those spirits who came before us, and through quiet reflection, like signposts on a long journey, give a sense of direction and values for our own lives. One day a man will walk on another plan- et, and that man will be using his learned experiences at home to understand this new landscape, and if they are as thoughtful and loving as I expect them to be, they will also pay homage to their fathers and mothers. My Father,

One atomic bomb, then another, stopped the bloodshed and sent a whole bunch of hoot’n and holler’n guys back home, including my dad. Before the war, my father was on track to study medicine. The Army tested his IQ and selected him for just that, medical training. By the war’s end, he advanced to the level of T-5, surgical technician, a corporal in today’s army. The war experience ended up being too much for him. Having to treat wounded and dying soldiers left him scarred. When he was ready to return to school he chose marketing. While attending college he worked until 2 AM at the family’s drive-in restaurant as a short-order cook. Many times, he told me with the biggest smile on his face, “I must have cut a zillion onions and formed thousands of burgers, all while yelling ‘Pick Up!’ as they rolled off the grill.” Enrolled at Temple University. His parents were ecstatic. He became the first person in the family to earn a college degree. When I look back and think about how he obtained his degree it is a mystery to me. Who could have the time to concentrate after working those hours? His grades suffered, but he got through it. As a young man, my father also wrote lyrics. He told me he thought he could make it as a songwriter. We have his lyrics. One of them includes the music. I had that one professionally reproduced. Back in the day, that piece was etched to vinyl, but I haven’t been able to find the album. My parents loved to travel. When we were younger they piled us into the back of a coun- try squire station wagon and we took trips to Montreal - Canada, Gettysburg - Pennsylva- nia, Maine, Atlantic City - New Jersey, and more. Once we were old enough to take care of ourselves my parents started to take cruises. They loved cruising taking at least 50 cruises in their lifetimes, seeing the world in comfort; a far better way to travel than on a troopship wondering about enemy torpedoes, some- thing he experienced during the war. My father led an exemplary life. His busi- ness provided jobs for thousands, good jobs

Stephen Shooster

His Father Frank Shooster 1893-1950

Stephen Shooster - My father always chose his words carefully, keeping them simple enough to be clearly understood. I recall him making statements and then taking a long pause to make sure they sunk in. When I reiterated what he meant, his ideas would frequently get misconstrued. When this happened, he took the time to say them again, perhaps in a different way. He always main- tained a goal or a vision in mind of how he wanted things to be. Those thoughts are very hard to share. He had lots of patience.

I never understood how he would point to an old photo of his father and say, “Not a day goes by where I don’t think about him.” I chal- lenged him snidely. He said, “One day you will understand.” That day is today and every day in my future.

Herman and Dorothy Shooster Wedding Photo 24 FEB 1953

Last Entries in Herman’s Journal I always wished I had more knowledge of my parents’ lives. My mother left a detailed account of much of her life, which Dorothy had the foresight to record on tape. But I know very little about the intimate details of my father’s life and even less about the old coun- try. With this document, I am trying to leave some record of my own life for my family, for my children and my grandchildren. It is not intended for general publication nor do I have any illusions that it merits wider reading. As they grow up and marry and have children of their own, I know this record will become more valuable to them. To my surprise, after writing a good deal of it, I find that I enjoy trying to recollect the chap- ters of my life; however, I am not a skilled enough writer to be able to put down here a good record of the emotional side of the facts recounted. As we all discover eventually, much of life comes to us bearing intense feelings of joy and sorrow, ecstasy and remorse, fear and contentment. I have experienced them all. My wife, my children, and my grand- children have made me one of the happiest men in the world.” -- H.S. Eagle Trace, Coral Springs, FL.

2008 - AUGUST

Today is Saturday, August 2008. For the first time in years, I clicked on the button that brought up this book. Haven’t read what I wrote here in a long time, so I think I’ll just start over... at least, try another ‘beginning.’ I will be 84 in a few months, I still go to the office every day, still working to build the business, still trying to smooth the way for my family to get along better. Every one of them, four kids and their spouses, now works for the compa- ny I founded. Don’t get me wrong. They have been a joy to work with all these years, but sometimes, there are personality clashes. How could there not be? This is a group, my chil- dren, and their spouses, of very smart people. They all have points of view; they don’t always agree. Yet, somehow, at the end of the day, at least, most days, they get along fine. These times, are challenging economic times, maybe the most challenging since The Great Depression, yet, our business, Global Response, is doing fine, all because of them and the people we have hired, which I now include as my extended family. I have, from time to time, thought about stepping away… retiring. But, if I did, I think, I would not know what to do with my time. As things are, the children seem to think that I still have something to contribute. So, in I go, every day. Together, we have all gone further than I would have were I alone in the business. Together...” -- H.S. Eagle Trace, Coral Springs, FL.

Herman’s Home Office

2009 - OCTOBER

2010 - FEBURARY

Time has marched on. The last time I looked at this stuff was in August of 2008. Today is October 31, 2009. The past year, 2009, brought big surprises. After a cruise across the Atlantic to Europe and Africa, Dorothy and I returned home in early May. It was at this point that I decided to get four dental implants so that I could eventually rid myself of the dentures I wear every day. But, first I had a slight pain in my chest and thought I should have my cardiologist check me out before enduring the trauma of dental surgery. To my great surprise the pain turned out to be a symp- tom of a very large aneurysm in my aortic arch. Sixteen years prior, I had surgery for the same condition on the other side of my aorta. I knew instantly that I would have to under- go open heart surgery if I hoped to survive. I knew exactly who to call, Doctor Coselli. He performed my previous surgery. One week later I was at St. Luke’s Hospital in Houston and faced it. ‘Face It’ - That is the motto I live by.” -- H.S. Eagle Trace, Coral Springs, FL.

It is now four months later, Feb. 2010, and I seem to be recovering nicely. The weeks after my surgery turned out to be some of the worst of my life. I was experiencing terrible pain in my belly with no apparent cause. Weeks later, after many visits to my family doctor and after being referred to a gastroenterologist I was finally diagnosed with, of all conditions, ‘Panic Disorder.’ I was referred to a psychia- trist who put me on medication that finally, Finally! gave me relief. Now I am on my way to total recovery.” -- H.S. Eagle Trace, Coral Springs, FL.

Herman’s Reflections in his own voice. Using your mobile phone open your cam- era or just follow the link.

DAD 89

https://shoosterpublishing.bandcamp.com/track/herman-shooster-reflections

SLOW MOVER by Stephen Shooster,

Friday, 3 July 2009 at 4.30 pm, Houston, TX written while my dad was having major surgery

Once upon a time I wanted a roaring engine with red and white stripes, a fast mover. I would roll down the main street revving my engine at stop lights; all heads would turn, a fast mover. Then one day my dad finds out he has a ticking time bomb in his chest, a weak- ness in the artery. Within a week my world is upside down, finding my mom and brothers playing scrabble in the ICU waiting room while my dad fights for his life. I let my mom win every time, to lighten her spirits and because she’s way better than me. With a tube in his throat and heart exposed, body cooled down, we laugh irreverently, nervously, full belly laughs. We held hope in our thoughts, no other choice. Finally eight hours later... alive... repaired. Thinking back, all I wanted was a fast mover. Now, for my dad, the only way back was through the chasm. The only way back to our world for him was through a deep valley, being tested by 1,000 challenges. Bang! Restart the heart, stitch by stitch. Thwack, thwack, staples in the chest. Stitch by loving stitch, pronto. Rolling down the cavern into the cave it’s dark; he can’t see a thing... The cave, the Intensive Care Unit, the first step, no windows, lots of attention. He hears a noise. A subway assault. He thinks, “How am I breathing?” Intubated Lights flash drip, drip, He thinks, “The enemy must have me tied down.” His leg twitches... no energy... sleep. The only way back is through the chasm. Bang, awake again. Can’t talk. Drugs manage him, a little of this... awake, that... asleep Haze, noise. He thinks, “Who am I? Who is he?” The robot in him responds. He thinks. “I must be captured.” Rest, torture, rest. Hands flail, he thinks “I must escape, can’t talk, can’t warn my buddies. Marshaling strength I have broken my handcuffs.” He thinks with no thought other than freedom, jerks the tube from his throat, FREE, I... I can’t breathe, dying, trapped, medic! Saved! Oxygen, saved. Regrouping, he thinks, I have to escape. Under fire. Keep your head down. Grenade! They got me. Captured. Truth serum. Can’t... Can’t fight, delirium. Name, Rank and Serial... slurrr, taking punches. I’m here, kind of... delirium... I hear fellow prisoners, “Get out, I tell them to get out... Resist!” It’s futile - unconscious.

Slow Mover Close-up

2009 42” x 36” Drawing by Stephen Shooster Colored Pencil, Ink, Metallic Inks, Watercolor paper

I would be driving down Main Street all heads turning, a fast mover... Roarrrr My buddies... they are saving me. Carrying me away from the enemy. Close call. Out of the cave. I hope they damaged those guys. Weak ... drifting... sleep. Safe for now. “Whew,” close call, re-group... Tired beyond tired.

Nursing me back still stuck in the valley. “Dorothy,” I call her name, “guide me.” His strength returns slowly, heart beating. Again fellow soldiers rescue him.

Drag him to a field hospital. More nurses, strength, sleep. Racing down Main Street in my fast mover... All heads turn.

He thinks, “They sent me back to a real hospital. Walls and toilets come into focus. I must be out of the valley. I see Dorothy - “Hi.” “Hi,” back... and kids...they get me up on my feet... so tired. They make me walk. Hand me a walker, and teeth, and hearing aids, and glass- es. I walk slowly, one step at a time, tired; sit, sleep, need help to move, anything. The sun rises... they hand me my teeth, hearing aids, glasses, breathing toy, every morning a routine, draw blood... And me, I got my Slow Mover ready for the day One step... another.

I got my Slow Mover, who needs a fast car. I got my Slow Mover... still... dad survived

New York: Rusling Wood, Litho., 1917. Color lithograph poster. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

Charles Chambers (1883-1941). Food Will Win the War You Came Here Seeking Freedom Now You Must Help Preserve It Wheat is needed for the allies, Waste nothing.

Herman Shooster with his Red Car

A SHORT JEWISH HISTORY LESSON

Stephen Sbooster - My father, Herman Shooster, was born the third child of Eastern European Jewish parents that immigrated to the United States around 1910. They set up thier home in Chester, Pennsylvania. How they arrived was a miracle. Eastern European Jews called Poland and neighboring countries

Illustration of the Arch of Titus showing the sack of Jerusalem in 70 AD.

home for almost 1,000 years. It might have gone on another 1,000 years if cataclysmic events did not conspire to shake things up. Those events shaped the world in which we live today. Going way back to 70 AD with the siege of Jerusalem, the Jews were forced to leave their homeland by the conquering Romans. It would not be until May 14, 1948, three years after WWII, that they would have a country again. With- out a homeland, they wandered around Europe, congregating in two main regions; Spain and the combined nations of Germany, Poland, Russia, and surrounding territories. This wandering was given a term, The Diaspora. The Jews that settled in Spain eventually became known as Sephardic, or Spanish Jews, while those that went east became known as Ashkenazi. The Spanish Jews enjoyed relative wealth, bordering on an aristocracy until they were forced to leave or convert during The Span- ish Inquisition (1478). Many ended up in Holland. Meanwhile, the Eastern Jews suffered every kind of degrading persecution. The region itself was difficult, with terrible winters and meager existence. Piled upon them were restrictions designed to keep from gaining wealth. Some of the Jews still prospered, lit the candles on Sabbath, and prayed fervently at temples they built. The Eastern Jews, saddled with extra taxation, and deadly, lawless pograms they had nowhere else to go. Forced to endure hardships. Anti-Sem- itism simmered, randomly boiling over until 1939 when being Jewish, in and of itself, meant a death sentence under the Nazi regime. Given the distance between the two prima- ry sects of Jews during the diaspora, a divergence in the culture occurred. It was exacerbated when the Visigoths of the north, a nomadic, Germanic

people, conquered Rome in 368 AD. In doing so they placed a wedge between the east and the west, making contact nearly impossible for Jews on either side of the divide. Hundreds of years passed before that wedge was broken by hordes from the east, in the form of Arabs and Berbers, who beat the Visigoths back in 711 AD. Our family stems from the Ashkenazi sect. On the way to settlements in the east, the Ashke- nazi befriended the local indigenous population. These people, known as Sythians, got there name from the handheld tool they used for cutting grasses, a scythe. Thousands of them converted to Judaism and the populations mixed. Mores and customs required Jews to marry Jews. Because the Scythians were now Jewish, the cultures merged. Understanding this reveals the reason why the Jews from this region are called Ashkenazi. It’s a Yiddish word that means Scyth- ian or ‘People of the Scythe.’ Most of these old-world people would rare- ly, if ever, travel beyond their village. In fact, the kings and nobles of the land considered the people to be part of their holdings. With meager means the people lived lives of quiet desperation, but, even so, there were glimmers of hope, remaining observant to their faith and rituals. The Ashkenazi created an extensive culture with its own expressive language, Yiddish. The Yiddish language is a combination of Hebrew, German, Slavic, Polish and Russian. Yiddish developed as a slang language. Written with Hebrew letters, it became so widely accepted that newspapers, short stories, novels, and plays were produced. Many of these written works have survived, and some have been translated into English. In

Anti-Semitism always bubbled just below the surface. At certain times, Jews were forced to wear distinctive clothing, and mark their names on the outside of their doors. Actions like this led to further reprisals and alienation. But it is also ironic that in some ways the same restrictions that made life difficult made the people strong. Many became small businessmen, merchants, and money lenders. A few thrived, becoming wealthy by the standards of the times. The Yiddish civilization flowered in this imperfect world. Communities grew, and syna- gogues were built. Families raised children, cele- brated marriages and buried their dead. The full cycle of life blossomed and wilted, and blossomed again, and again. One myth about the Jews relates to money lending. This practice was forbidden by all the major religions prior to the year 1250. In that year the Jews were forbidden from working specific jobs and pushed into towns. Those same restric- tions prompted them to take up business careers. Money lending was just one alternative. Some of those new urban-dwelling merchants became wealthy. It was those men who gathered enough wealth to have money to lend. - Stephen Shooster

New York, there is a library called YiVO dedicated to its preservation. When Yiddish was transcribed into English, the Jews, at first, resisted. Latin letters were abhorred as the language of the church, but most Americans couldn’t read Hebrew, so tran- scription was the only way to reveal the stories to a wider audience. These stories are windows into a lost time and place.

Among the best are the writers: Shalom Aleichem and Isaac Singer

Wherever the Jews settled, they learned the local language along with Hebrew and in the east, Yiddish. Living in different regions yet speaking a common language made them well-suited for commerce. Large portions of the international Jewish population maintain a strict adherence to religion. Because of their strange customs and extensive language skills, they have been characterized as, A Nation Among Nations . Their meetings sparked concern among the ruling classes. Conversely, the Jews became ideal agents for those very same rulers. In doing so, they collected taxes, managed workers and took care of proper- ty. Mixed feelings helped fan anti-Semitic actions from the locals who were often jealous and vindic- tive. The result was an uneasy truce, a powder keg. Yet, for the most part, the various sects of people kept to themselves. In those years the measure of success was the number of children they had and the location of one’s seat in the syna- gogue. Much of an Orthodox Jew’s time was spent in prayer. It was a different sort of time. A myriad of customs and institutions defined just about every aspect of their lives. Disease and famine were near companions. Child mortality was very high.

Reference -

Yiddish Civilization - The Rise and Fall of a Forgotten Nation by Paul Kriwaczek 2006

Note: A scythe is a long wooden stick with a cutting blade at the bottom and a handle in the center. It is a well-balanced tool for mowing fields of grain by hand. Since the land was well-suited for growing grain, the region became known as the breadbasket of Europe.

Man holding a Scythe.

DORA SHOOSTER 1892-1976 Jewish Immigrant Seamstress Mother Grandmother

Cross Stitching by Dora Shooster, Circa 1950’s

Pale of Settlement Number of Progroms

2020 Map of Europe / Dora Shooster’s Origin / Latitude 50° 42´/ Longitude 26° 34´ The Various Names for Tuchin: Tuczyn - Polish;Tutshin - Yiddish; Tuchin-Krippe - Russian; Tuchyn - Ukrainian; Тучин - Ukrainian

Pogroms / Crop Failures

Pogroms / Political Turmoil

Frank Shooster

Dora Shooster

THE SHTETL

on different years. With the help of a genealogist, we found the manifest record of her crossing. It says she was 18. Her tapes say she was 17 while dating in America. She most likey was 16 upon arrival to America. Ten years after she arrived in America (1921), the national boundaries of Tuchyn changed again, this time from tsarist, Russia back to democrat- ic, Poland. Then, suddenly, in September of 1939, the Soviets took over, prompted by Nazi Germa- ny’s invasion of Western Poland. Prior to the invasion the Nazis and Russians created a treaty agreeing to divide Poland. Russia took the eastern half, including Tuchyn. In 1940, the Nazis double- crossed the Soviets, attacked Russia, and little Tuchyn was overrun by Nazis, spelling disaster for the Jews who lived there. Most of the Jews fled ahead of the Nazi occu- pation. Of those who remained about 3,000 were immediately killed and the rest placed in a ghetto. That ghetto swelled to thousands. They suffered with little food and overcrowding until 1942 when Tuchyn was liquidated, killing its remain- ing Jewish inhabitants. A few survived, including Dora’s stepbrother and some sister’s. During the slaughter of Tuchyn, it is record- ed that the Jews fought back feebly. It is notable that they were able to fight at all. They had little firepower to sustain a battle. By the war’s end, the Soviets reclaimed the region, and only 150 Jews returned. After the war, the Jewish population increased, and eventually, they left in a mass exodus to Isra- el. The old people stayed and eventually passed away. By 1992, the Ukraine was established, and no living Jews were left in Tuchyn.

Dora Shooster, born Dobe Chumot, came from the small town of Tuchyn, located near the Horyn River in what today is the Western Ukraine. It is located within the district of Volyn, in the region of Volhynia, approximately 24 km NE of the city of Rivne. To the Jews, small villages like Tuchyn were called shtetls. This entire region was subject to shifting national borders. At the time Dora was born, her hometown was part of tsarist, Russia. When the Jews settled there, it was Poland. Jews became Russian after the territory was conquered. Once they became Russian they were limited in where they could travel. The area they were allowed to travel in was called the Pale of Settlement. They were not allowed to leave to the west or go deeper into Russia. Life was hard, food was meager. When Dora was a child, her mother, Hinda Kelemacher (1870-1896), died. About a week later, her oldest brother also died. He was buried in the same grave. Her father, Mikel(1897-1936?), married his wife’s sister, Devorah ‘Dobe’(1865?- 1942), against her will, a common custom. Due to Dobe’s resentment of a forced marriage, Dora and her younger brother, Benjamin (Boruch), were treated harshly. This led them to seek better lives elsewhere. They were not alone. From 1880 to 1924 two million Jews migrated to America from Europe. On multiple occasions, Dora asked her father if she could leave. He said unequivocally, “No.” Eventually, he acquiesced after intense persistence. She arrived in the USA between the ages of 15-18. It is hard to be sure since she may have adjusted the records. We have notes that place her birthday

Mikel Chomet and his son Elich circa late 1930’s

Mikel Chumot (1875 - 1935?)

The Yizkor Book of Tuchyn (Book of the Dead), recounts some of the stories, ‘Tuchyn was a vibrant community with four synagogues, including one called The Great Synagogue. The Jews who lived there were mostly Hassidic, (a very religious form of Juda- ism.) The town also included multiple Zionist organi- zations that were teaching the youth the skills needed to return to Israel, a strong desire during those times.’ Dora’s father, Mikel Chumot, was a grocer. On Friday nights after temple, he collected small loans from those he had extended credit to during the week. He must have done well enough since he support- ed a live-in housekeeper and managed to raise eleven children. The shtetl of Tuchyn was divided into Jewish and non-Jewish sections. The Jews required extensive hours of worship. Prayer was done by davening or rocking back and forth while reciting the Hebrew text. Men were separated from women. One of the main prayers they recited was the desire to return to Jerusalem. Our family lived next to the temple.

“Sh’ma Yis-ra-ael,

A-do-nai E-lo-hei-nu,

A-do-nai E-chad.”

Hear, O Israel,

The LORD our God,

The LORD is One.

Dobe Chumot also known as Dora Shooster

DEVORAH CHUMOT (also known as Dobe Chumot Dobka Chumot Dora Goldstien

Dora Levitsky - Second marriage Dora Shooster - First marriage Nana Lotkes - A name of endearment

Dora Shooster 1960’s - 1892-4 to Dec. 2nd, 1976

In the 1970’s, Dorothy Shooster bought a cassette tape recorder and captured 6 hours of Dora’s stories.

Listen to Dora’s Story in her own voice: https://shoosterpublishing.bandcamp.com/album/dora-shooster-my-life

Zapiecek - A special fireplace that was part of a typical Russian home circa 1905. Brings to mind stories of immigrants who had to sleep above fireplaces. J. Gotr Preiss, Osten 1910

1970’s Dora Shooster as Interview by Dorothy Shooster 2016 Transcribed and Abridged by Stephen Shooster

I would like to start telling the story of my life. My mother took ill when I was a year and a half from a sickness that was called in Russia, the holeria (cholera), here it is called diarrhea. They didn’t know what to do. There were no doctors. She didn’t have to die, but she died. We were left: three children, two boys. I was just a baby. The oldest took sick two days after they buried my mother. Mine brother had terrible cramps. My father didn’t know what to do, so he asked a neighbor. The neigh- bor said, ‘Just heat up a brick and wrap it around with something, and put it across his stomach.’ This little boy was eight years old.

I guess that was the wrong thing to do. He had appendicitis, and you mustn’t do that. The next day he was dead. They didn’t even make him a funeral. They dressed him up and ‘digged’ my mother’s grave and put him right against her.” My father was left with two children, Boruch and me. The neighbors helped him out. I was so young. After a few weeks, people were trying to match up my father. He was in the grocery business, a neighborhood grocery. He had a little income there like they all did. Anyhow, he had something in his mind. My mother had four sisters. The youngest

girl, her name was Devorah, the same as mine, was engaged with a man in a town near us, called Hosht or Hoshcha. She didn’t even like my father as a brother-in-law, not yet a husband. But my grandmother came along when she found out my father was interested and gave her orders, ‘You have to marry Mikel or else! This is the way I want it. I don’t want Hinda’s wealth to go to somebody else.’ My mother’s name was Hinda. My mother’s sister, Devorah, said she would rather die before she would marry my father with two children. So, my grandmother and father went to a Rabbi in the next town, a big Rabbi, to ask his advice. The best advice the Rabbi could tell my grandmother was, ‘Lock her up in her room and let her stay for three, four weeks she will get tired of it and after she’ll get married, she’ll adjust herself.’ So they did it, and she refused to eat anything. Her sweetheart used to come in the middle of the night all the way from Hosht and throw in some food. After she was there four weeks, she couldn’t take it any longer, so she listened to her mother. They let her out of the room and she finally married. My father wasn’t a poor man. He had a maid in the house, and what you called in Russia, a very nice home, and she became the boss. But, she told my grandmother, ‘If you think I’m going to be a mother, or a good mother, to your grandchildren, you are mistaken, because I can’t stand them.’ This

was her plan for me and my brother. She came in, and she did exactly what she promised. My brother went to Hebrew school. You have to send a boy, a girl you don’t have to. As I was growing, two years, three years, the dressmaker would bring a little dress for me. That’s how they did it in those years. There was no place to buy ready-made clothes. The dressmaker would say, ‘I hope she’ll wear it in good health.’ My stepmother would say, ‘I hope she will never be able to wear it.’ That was the curse. I didn’t understand what it meant. If I would go outside and I didn’t put the shawl on, I got into severe trouble. With all this, I was a healthy little girl, and I didn’t mind the cold. A neighbor came into the store and said to my stepmother, ‘Why didn’t you put a shawl on Dora?’ By her knowing that she bought me a shawl and I didn’t put it on she beat me so hard, and bit my finger so hard, that my finger still carries a scar. And that’s how I was living in the house. In the meantime, my stepmother start- ed to have children. She had eight. One got drowned, one got choked, she didn’t have good luck with her children. I growed [sic] up until I was about eight years old and I couldn’t stand it any longer. My grandmother at that time was dead already. So, I went to another town, to mine [sic] father’s sister, just to get away from the house. She was so stingy.

Drawing of Tuchyn Shetetl

All I wanted was a piece of bread. They were wealthy people. They had a mill where you make flour. I used to have to steal an extra piece of bread. I stayed there for four weeks. I didn’t stay there; I just suffered there. Anyhow, I growed [sic] up to eleven. I never slept in a bed. She wouldn’t let me sleep in a bed. I had to sleep on top of a stove with some rags, with all the wealth my father had. So, I thought to myself, how could I better myself? So, I went into a neighbor’s house. The third house from us. An elderly woman lived there. She raised a granddaughter because her own daughter died. The granddaughter went to school. So, I came into her and begged her not to tell my father or mine stepmother that I‘ll come in every day and wash her floors and do whatever she wanted me to do, so her granddaughter would give me a lesson in Russian, or Jewish. I didn’t want to grow up dumb. So she said, “Alright Dobe, you come in, at such and such a time.” Whatever I know now, I learned from her. A DANGEROUS FALL When I was about 11 years old in the old country, they didn’t have running water in the homes. You had to bring the water to the house in a pail, and in order to get water, you had to go to the well, or to the river. This happened on a Friday when you’re not allowed to carry it on the Sabbath. After services at the schul, my stepmother said to me, “You have to go out and bring in two buck- ets of water.” We had a well about two blocks from the house. It was in the street where all the farmers lived. They were very good friends with my mother. I took the two buckets tied on a rope. The weather was very bad. It was in the wintertime, it was slippery, snow. I went to the well and let my bucket into the well, and I was shivering cold and trying to see if the buck- et is full enough. So, I lifted the rope, and the bucket was gone. So, I got very scared. I could not come home; she is going to kill me. How can I tell her that I lost the bucket? I have nowhere to turn, don’t know what to do. I start looking down in the well to see if I can

An Old Well found in Poland Drawing by Stephen Shooster

see a sign of the bucket. Maybe I could look down and see the bucket. I fell into the well! I don’t know which way I fell, but I stood up, and I started to yell. I was on the street where all the families lived in that territory. I don’t know who went by, but they heard me hollering. There was a man, and he used to deal with us. He had a grocery store, and we made cereal for him. He says, ‘Don’t move,’ in Russian. ‘Stay there, I’m going home, and I’ll bring you a ladder. I’m going to bring a ladder, and I’m going to lower it down into the well. I’ll bring you up, and I’ll call some of my neighbors.’ He didn’t know who I was. So, I stayed there. He comes back with at least four Russian people. They knew my father very well, and they knew my moth- er well. They came down with the ladder and a light, a big ladder. One man came climbing down, and he recognized me. He called me by my Jewish name, “Doba, what are you doing here?” He took me up, and I said, “I can’t go home unless you find the bucket.” So, he looks around. It wasn’t too big of a territory. He finds the bucket, they cover me, and the wife and the man say, “What happened in the well?” He says, “Somebody in the well fell, and that’s the whole reason they hollered.” The wife came running with the husband. This woman took off her coat, and she wrapped

me, and she recalled my dead mother’s name, ‘If only Hinda would be here to see how your stepmother sends you in the night, in this kind of weather to get the water.’ They take out the bucket and put in the water, and they take me home. I come home, and my father don’t [sic] ask what happened. Instead, he said, ‘Where was you so long? What happened to you? It’s about time you should know how to take care of yourself.’ The married man, the farmer, says to my father, ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself to take a little girl of 11-12 years old and send her in the dark to the well. Why didn’t you go?’ My father couldn’t go on a Friday night. He was the guy that for the whole week, for the poor people, would lend them money so they could go and buy something, exchange a dollar, a ruble. And he used to get interest. Every Friday night right after you come from the synagogue you used to come down to my father and pay interest. He was like a bank for them. So, he wouldn’t go anyhow. The farmer says to him, ‘Why didn’t you send your other children?’ EDUCATION So that was my life. From then on I got a little lesson, thinking to myself, if I’m not going to help myself, nobody will help me. She never gave me enough to eat. She never let me go through the house like her kids. Whatever I done was wrong. We lived in the country. There was quite a few people, but I wasn’t educated. So, to myself, I thought, How can I get to a big city? Then I became twelve years old. I already knew what hit me, what future there was for me and who was going to care for me. We lived in a very little village. I wanted to go into the big town to Ruvnet, Geberia, or Rivne. Maybe I could get some, any kind of job there. So, I went over to the taxi man, in Tuchyn. He was the one that would take the passengers from our town to the big city. He knew my mother and he knew me. The whole street had pity for my brother and me, Hinda’s children. I said, ‘Would you take me to Ruvnet? I haven’t got the 40 cents it costs

from our town to there. I am expecting to get a job. I’ll pay you. You are not just going for me.’ When he had a load to take to town. I figured he could make a place for me. ‘I will repay you.’ So, that’s how it happened, and I went to Ruvnet. I started to browse around in the big town. What can a 12-year-old girl do? So, I heard of the people, Yankle Lovitch, very rich people. They were in the goods. They sold all kinds of materials. So, I went in there, and I says to her, ‘I come from Tuchyn, and my father usta deal...’ next door was a big wholesale place, grocery wholesale. My father used to go every week for things that he needed. She knew my father. So, I introduced myself, ‘I am Mikel’s daughter, and I can’t live like I live. Torturer. Could she use me? I’ll sweep and do anything just so I wouldn’t be a burden. Just the food and whatever you give me will be alright.’ Mrs. Lovitch, says, ‘I’m afraid to start with your father. He’ll find out.’ In the old country, it is the biggest shame for your children to go out to work. They have to suffer inside. They are not allowed to go out. I told her to take a chance with me. If he comes to take me back, it will be my hard luck. Mrs. Lovitch, ‘I’ll tell you what I want to do. I just lost a young daughter, and she left a little girl. I took the girl to raise. She is five years old now. I have maids in the house. You don’t have to do no hard work or anything. I just want you for a companion to that little girl. I will give you money every day.’ It was a big luxury to go to a movie for 20 cents. You go to a movie, this was a big town, and after an ice cream parlor. I said, ‘All right you try me out.’ I went in with her, and I usta put on the sleeve and dressed her in the morning when she started school I was her companion. Mrs. Lovitch bought me a very nice uniform. I’ll never forget it. She had it made for me, a very light silk brown dress, with a black apron made out of lace and a blue little sweater. This was the outfit that she wanted me to wear to look presentable. I felt like I’m in heaven at that point. The world had opened up for me. But, exactly how she said it, my father,

EARLY LIFE

with the next trip, found out I was there. He comes into the store, says he wants to speak to his daughter. He wanted me to leave, but I told him I wouldn’t go home, I’d rather go to the river and drown, then go home. I wouldn’t go. So, I stayed on another while. A year went by, and she made another proposition to me. She said, ‘Dora, you are a very aggressive girl. Why don’t you help me out in the store, at the counter? When we cut the merchandise, you can package it. You can meet more people.’ The little girl was sent to school already; she was seven years old. So, I did that for a while. Then it didn’t suit my father to see me working in the store. So, with the next trip, he came and took me home. It was the same misery again. My step- mother would make me scrub the floors at 4 AM. Her children were all sleeping with beautiful beds and the maids and everything. I had to lay on the floor and scrub the floor. Anything that didn’t have to be done, I had to do. My brother Boruch, they just knocked him down. They usta beat him so much. He didn’t know any better. I knew it was a better world than that. THE PEAR TREE I want to tell you an instance about my brother when he was about 12 years old. So, he went to school and climbed up on a pear tree to steal a few pears from the farmer. They reported him to my father. My father took his clothes away and locked him in his room. In the old country. All the men are wear- ing leather straps. He took off the leather strap from his pants and beat him that blood was running from his body. Being a sister, the feel- ing wasn’t right with me. They wouldn’t give him anything to eat. The stepmother rode him like that. At night I usta sneak down, and get a glass of milk, and a piece of bread, and stick it into the room so he wouldn’t starve. My father found out. He beat me so that I thought this was already the end. I suffered like that till I was about fifteen.

Dora Shooster- My stepmother told us that she didn’t want to brush my hair and she didn’t want to put me at the table. My brother and I were not allowed to sit at that table with the family. On Friday night, my father was already a rich man at that time; he used to take a poor man for supper, that was the rule. In Europe, grown-up men with families would go around begging from house to house. My father would go to the schul on Friday night and take one or two, ‘Oy Chum’, they called them, men home to dinner. My stepmother had a special woman to cook the dinner for the family. If she had fish for dinner, she never gave my brother, and I fish. She gave us left-over lima beans, and she gave the other children the better food. I had an aunt, my father’s sister, who had six daughters. She used to send one of the girls after me and take me to her home and wash my hair and keep me there all day. She was very good but very poor. Her husband used to make furniture. If somebody would get married, he would make a bed for them. He made $5 a week. They had ten children. My aunt used to go to the farmer and help take out the potatoes from the ground. She would work there half a day, and he would give her a bushel of potatoes. She would come home and make a potato kugel, and we would all sit down to eat. She had beautiful children, such gorgeous daughters. There was a family that I was related to in Kishinev, which is a city perhaps bigger than New York, in Russia. They had a pogrom there (1903,1905).

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