Raisins and Almonds

Grandma Garfield’s heart of Gold

[posted by Ann]

        Rebecca Garfield embodied the archetype of the loving, nurturing Grandmother.  For most of our childhood we lived far away from her, but there were five years when our family lived close by in the Chicago suburbs of Oak Park and Evanston, (ca 1952 -1957.) During these years of frequent contact, we experienced the joys of matzo ball soup and potato kugel at Grandma’s Chicago apartment, and listened to her singing duets with our Grandfather, from their trove of Yiddish, Russian, and Irish songs.  Our Dad always told us how much our Grandparents loved us, “They would give the world for you,” he once said as he handed me  the telephone to chat with them. 

            I have a clear memory of a time Grandma and Papa Garfield babysat for us at our Oak Park home, when Joan was probably two and I was four. We loved hot cocoa, something our Mother served only as a special treat. It was bedtime, and stalling, I asked Grandma Garfield if we could have hot cocoa first. I expected her to veto the audacious request, as our mother certainly would have. But to my great surprise, she was happy to make it, and mixed up a batch from scratch in a small white enamel saucepan. I couldn’t believe our good fortune, but my conscience was also somewhat troubled, as I was certain that our Mother wouldn’t approve.

            When Grandma Garfield immigrated to the US around 1910, the garment industry in New York City produced seventy per cent of the clothing worn by Americans. The job market was strong for Jewish immigrant women with sewing skills, and our Grandma quickly found work as a buttonhole maker. She fit right into the cohort of young, Yiddish-speaking immigrant girls from Eastern Europe who were her co-workers and friends. There was live Yiddish theater in New York, Yiddish films, and the Daily Forward newspaper in Yiddish. The familiar warmth of the Old World culture, transplanted, smoothed her transition to the New World. We have a photo of Grandma Rebecca with a group of other young women, who may be friends from her workplace or the tenement house in which she lived. The 1915 New York Census lists her as a boarder in the home of Max and Minnie Katz at 528 East 11^th Street. Almost 180 names are listed for that address, likely a tenement house with about 20 units. Most of the residents had Jewish names, came from Russia, and worked in the garment industry. Grandma’s landlord Mr. Katz was a pants operator, and another young woman boarder named Ida Purdger was listed as “operator-dresses.” 

        During these early years, probably before 1915, a young man once approached Grandma and her friends asking for a loan of $20. Grandma opened her purse and gave him the money. He promised to pay her back, but her friends were skeptical and laughed that she would never see that money again. But they were wrong. About 40 years later that same man traced her to Chicago, came to see her and repaid the loan with interest. He said that he had never forgotten her kindness, and insisted on giving her $60 dollars.

 

Rebecca Friedman with friends, ca 1914-1915.  This photo was taken at the Tarr Studio, 20 East 14^th Street, New York City. Grandma is the young girl on the right, with the white blouse and dark necktie. Perhaps the other women were her fellow buttonhole makers. Or maybe one of the older women is her landlady Mrs. Katz, with fellow boarder Ida Purdger the other young woman on the left. 

 

Two glimpse of Grandma Rebecca: from Old Country furs to American chic

Here are two photos of our Grandma Garfield as a young woman. They are a portal to her early years as a spunky immigrant from Russian-controlled Krinik (now Krynki) in Poland.


This first photo was taken in New York around 1910, probably with her brother Sam who had immigrated before her. Her name was Rivke Friedman. It may have been taken shortly after her arrival in America, to send back to family in the Old Country to assure them of her safe arrival and reunion with brother Sam. She is still a teenager, either 16 or 17 years old. Her clothes and furs evoke Eastern Europe: elaborate large muff, generous fur collar, and big fur hat with an enormous ribbon at the back. She does not resemble the typical Ellis Island image of immigrant women wrapped in shawls and babushkas. Her outfit suggests a family of some means. Such large fur muffs also served as purses, and she probably carried a few diamonds in hers. They were the travelers’ checks of her time, small and easy to carry. One of those diamonds may even have become our mother Amy’s engagement ring 30 years later.



The second photo was made in Chicago, and may have been taken shortly after her marriage in 1916. Her name would have become Rebecca Garfield. This is an Americanized, and stylish young woman, in a sleek suit and fashionable hat--with no more furs or Old Country trappings in her dress. She carries a dainty small purse. She had worked for several years in the New York garment industry, making buttonholes for men's suits. Her face is thin; her figure is trim. She has never looked more beautiful: a young bride, before the cares of motherhood and family life have set in.

When I recall my Grandfather, by Joan Garfield

We are posting a memoir by Joan on this Yom Kippur eve in honor of our Grandfather Julius who felt that Yom Kippur was the most important of all the holidays. It was the only day of the year that he closed his grocery store and stayed home. He was not religious, but this was his way of acknowledging his Jewish beliefs and identification.  

    When I recall my grandfather, Julius Garfield, my memories are mostly visual. The first image that appears is of his face. He wore thick eyeglasses and had a high, broad forehead. His face was often lit up with a beaming smile. Then I see his hands. They were strong, competent hands, with wide, neatly groomed fingers. On one finger he wore a plain gold ring adorned with a single diamond.

            I have many memories of my grandfather’s hands. I often watched them carefully grate potatoes for my grandmother to use in preparing her famous latkes. They wrapped sandwiches in waxed paper with such precision we knew the paper would never unfold in the lunch bag. They lifted a shot glass of whiskey, referred to as “a schnapps,” for a toast of L’chaim” before dinner. They poured my first cup of coffee, heavily flavored with cream and sugar, from a thermos that accompanied my grandparents on their car trip to visit us in Omaha.

            Many years later I watched my grandfather’s hands folded on his lap, as he sat in a wheel chair in a nursing home. I watched them pick up the jelly donuts (bismarks) my grandmother had brought him as a special treat.

            My father tells me that these hands were once the hands of a capable plumber, and often made repairs in the rooming houses my grandfather owned. These hands also ran a cash register and made change for customers at his grocery store. They patted his faithful dog Pal, who waited for him each evening when he returned home after closing the store.

            These hands piled his plate high with five slices of bread at the beginning of dinner. They wrote letters to his grandchildren in small precise script. He always signed the letters with the same closing: “Best wishes and kindest regards, Grandma and Papa.” I never questioned why we called him “Papa” instead of Grandpa. I think my older cousin Judy gave him this name when she was young and later we copied her.

            Papa’s hands often held up poker cards while playing five card stud with his family on Sunday afternoons. When he had a winning hand he would slap his forehead in delight, and sometimes burst into song. My father tells me that these poker games were some of my grandfather’s happiest times. He enjoyed nothing more than having a glass or two of schnapps, playing poker, and singing. The songs he sang were usually in Yiddish or Russian, songs he probably learned as a boy in Bialystok. He also loved the Irish songs of John McCormack, which he must have heard after immigrating to the United States.

            My favorite of Papa’s songs was “Raisins and Almonds.” I can still recall the haunting melody of this beautiful Yiddish lullaby and the way his fine tenor voice blended with Grandma’s. I would close my eyes and snuggle on my grandma’s lap, willing the song to go on forever.

Joan Garfield and David Garfield with Julius Garfield in Omaha, 1958.