We frum Jews of
Baltimore take pride in living in one of the strongest Orthodox Jewish
communities in America. It’s also one of the oldest; Jews have lived in
Maryland since 1729. This article is not a summary of that long and very
interesting history, recounted in the new book, On Middle Ground: A History of the Jews of Baltimore, by Eric L.
Goldstein and Deborah R. Weiner. Rather, I propose to tell a number of short
stories – episodes that stand out – that I found enlightening.
The Troubles of
Rabbi Rice
For instance, did you know that the Reform
congregation, Baltimore Hebrew, whose imposing brick building stands on Park
Heights and Slade, started out as an Orthodox shul? It was, in fact, the first
synagogue in Baltimore, called Nidchei Yisrael. They hired Rabbi Abraham Rice
from Germany, who became the first rabbi in the United States with semicha. The shul was Orthodox, but the
members, by and large, were not so strict. They were all German Jews, mainly
from small towns, who had kept mitzvos out of rote habit in the Old Country. In
America, they sought to modernize, and they gave poor Rabbi Rice a real
challenge.
In 1842, a member of the shul died, and as
Rabbi Rice was about to start the services, members of the Masons and Odd
Fellows appeared and performed fraternal rituals unfamiliar to Rabbi Rice. He paskened that these rituals were chukat hagoyim and refused to officiate
at any future burials if Masonic rites were performed.
Seventeen men hereupon quit Baltimore
Hebrew and formed the Har Sinai Verein
as a Reform congregation. They read from a printed Bible because Baltimore
Hebrew refused to lend them a sefer Torah; they introduced an organ and
ordered Reform prayer books from the Hamburg temple in Germany. They also hired
a firebrand rabbi, a real radical reformer named Abraham Einhorn.
Despite the exit of these 17 members, there
were unfortunately still many things that upset Rabbi Rice. Increasingly,
members were lax in observance, and many violated Shabbos. The last straw was
when they wanted to give an aliyah to
a non-shomer Shabbos member. Rabbi
Rice resigned in disgust in 1849, taking with him a small group of
loyalists to worship in his home on North Howard Street. The Shearith
Israel Congregation, presently at the corner of Park Heights and Glen,
considers itself the continuation of that minyan
and considers Rabbi Abraham Rice its first rabbi – as does Baltimore Hebrew.
Rabbi Rice was still beloved by many
congregants, who nevertheless did not heed his teachings. In fact, after his
successor departed in 1862, they invited him to come back and serve as rabbi.
He did but died shortly afterwards. Baltimore Hebrew was not yet totally Reform;
there were factions in the synagogue. For example, members wanted to shorten
the services. Rabbi Rice told them that they could eliminate the piyutim and yotzros, but the congregation absolutely refused. They may not have
kept Shabbos, but how could they take out the additional liturgical poems that few
of them understood? They were German, after all.
Reform Makes
Headway
In reading this book, I learned that the
move towards Reform in Baltimore was much more gradual than one would think.
For example, another breakaway from Baltimore Hebrew, Oheb Shalom, was founded
in 1853 by those who wished to introduce “moderate reforms.” Its rabbi was
Benjamin Szold. He had come from Hungary and really could be described as
Conservative, which was called Historical Judaism in those days. He was
personally observant, and his famous daughter, Henrietta, who founded Hadassah,
actually attended the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. Of course, in
those days, they did not give semicha
to women.
Really, there wasn’t that much difference
in the personal observances of these three congregations. Baltimore Hebrew
defined itself as Orthodox until 1870. They maintained a balcony for the women
but removed the lattice work so they could see better. Har Sinai, though they
instituted a lot of changes, such as an organ, still maintained head coverings
for the men. Oheb Sholom used the traditional Roedelheim siddur on holidays
until 1864. The changes were gradual as the new generation took over. In
fact, Baltimore Hebrew was the slowest to change the prayer services. It considered
itself Orthodox until it established a mixed choir and abridged liturgy.
Here is something very interesting that I
learned. A Mr. Jonas Friedenwald, a junk dealer and grocer, actually went
to court to keep Baltimore Hebrew Orthodox. He lost. In 1871, he led a group that
quit Baltimore Hebrew and founded a strictly Orthodox shul. They called it
Chizuk Amuno, Strengtheners of the Faith. To summarize, all of these
congregations were almost entirely made up of people who came from Germany,
primarily small towns. In their private life they wanted to be fully
acculturated Americans without abandoning religious traditions. Even Shearith
Israel described its members as “Orthodox Jews who are as cultured and
Americanized as the Reform Jews.” And until 1873, all three Reform Temples had
separate seating. Of course, over time, the three Reform Temples became much
less traditional as Reform Judaism became a distinct movement.
As we come into the 1880s, the Germans
would be outnumbered by the new immigrants and that would start a whole new
chapter in the Jewish history of Baltimore.
The Germans and the
Russians
In 1820, there were only about 4,000 Jews
in all the United States. As a border city between the South and the North,
Baltimore’s location was unique. By the 1830s, ships carrying tobacco to
Bremen, in Germany, regularly returned laden with immigrants from Central
Europe. The B&O Railroad established a partnership with the North German
Lloyd shipping line, which made Baltimore not only a major immigrant port but also
saw to it that most of the newcomers got straight onto the train and headed
west. The ones who stayed built a metropolis with a small-town feel. As late as
1968, 70% of Baltimore’s Jews had been born here. This contributed greatly to
the sense of community attachment.
The immigrants from Central Europe in the
decades before 1880 had arrived mostly young and unmarried. The post-1880 immigrants
came from Eastern Europe and often arrived as whole families. The situation in
Russia left many Jews feeling there was no future for Jews there. The two
communities were very different, and the country, too, had changed dramatically.
By the end of the nineteenth century, the United States had emerged as a major
industrial power. This meant that a greater proportion of the population was
now settling in cities like Baltimore, where there were factory jobs and large
Jewish enclaves.
Many of the new immigrants worked in the
garment industry in plants owned by the German Jews. You can imagine how
nervous it made some of the “Americanized” Germans feel when they saw these
recently arrived, poverty-stricken, unhygienic Jews, who spoke Yiddish and kept
up customs that the German immigrants had long abandoned. They helped them, of
course, but wanting to distinguish themselves from the newcomers, the Germans Jews
moved uptown to Eutaw Place.
The Russians congregated in East Baltimore
near the harbor, where there were factories. Many Russians also worked in Jewish-owned
sweatshops and lived in areas that were slums. Of course, many of the
immigrants opened grocery stores, saloons, bakeries, junk yards, and even movie
theaters. A few Eastern European Jews became wealthy. One of the city’s largest
suppliers of coal, wood, and ice was Charles Hoffberger, who started very small
and grew very large. Ephraim Macht, who came from Kovno in 1887, started as a
poor laborer and ultimately founded a very large real estate and banking
business. Jacob Epstein came from Lithuania and built a thriving wholesale
business. He hired other Eastern European Jews to peddle his goods throughout
the Southern States. By 1904, his Baltimore Bargain House was shipping more
than one million dollars-worth of goods per month and employed almost 1,000
people. America really was the land of opportunity, and this attracted
more immigrants.
What to Do with
the Children?
The rabbis and leaders of the immigrant
community strove to keep the immigrants, and especially their children,
observant, with mixed results. The constitution of Bnai Israel, the
leading Russian congregation, excluded anyone who violated the Shabbos “from
holding office.” Shomrei Mishmeres was even stricter. Any member who violated
the Shabbos would be excluded after three written warnings.
In 1889, the Baltimore Talmud Torah was
started. A balabos named Tanchum
Silberman, originally a shammes, went
into business and was successful. The Talmud Torah he founded was after public
school but had a curriculum that included Gemara, Chumash, and other subjects.
In 1899, they began classes for girls. In 1904, they dropped Yiddish and taught
in English. With a lot of help from the uptown Germans, Tanchum Silberman
presided over the construction of a very large building with 14 classrooms for
a student body of 1,000. Unfortunately, there were many more boys and girls who
did not receive that level of Jewish education.
The rabbi of Bnai Israel, Rabbi Avraham N.
Schwartz, was the Chief Rabbi of Baltimore. In 1917, he started Talmud Torah
Ve-Emunah, which was known in English as the Hebrew Parochial School and later
renamed Talmudical Academy Yeshivas Chofetz Chaim. This was the first boys
yeshiva outside of New York. But the majority of boys did not go to the
yeshiva, and their Jewish education was weak. The rabbis of that time tried to
hold the line, but the majority of Jews, especially the younger ones, preferred
“the charm of the fascinating American environment” and moved away from
traditional Jewish values.
Rabbi Schwartz, however, was far more
successful in holding the line than Rabbi Jacob Joseph had been in New York
because he was highly respected. For example, concerned that employees of the
Sonneborn Clothing Factory would lose their jobs if they refused to work on
Saturday, Rabbi Schwartz went to the rabbi of Oheb Shalom, William Rosenau, who
intervened with his factory-owning congregants to allow those who were shomer Shabbos to keep their jobs.
Go Northwest,
Young Man
Baltimore was the smallest of the five
major Jewish immigration hubs – New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, and Boston –
and was more socially conservative. It also helped that many of the uptown
German Jews were Orthodox. Of course, there were plenty of less observant Jews,
like those in the Workman’s Circle, as well as those who tried to completely
assimilate. Zionism was strong in Baltimore. The only American delegate to the
first Zionist Convention in 1897 in Basel, Switzerland, was Rabbi Schepsel
Shaffer of the Shearith Israel Congregation.
How did it come about that most Jews moved
to Northwest Baltimore?
Leon Sachs, head of the Baltimore Jewish
Council, said that Jews “were excluded from so many areas that the only
direction they could go was northwest.” The head of the Roland Park Company,
Edward Bouton believed and openly espoused that “selling to Jews resulted in
depressed property values because gentiles would not buy homes in Jewish areas.”
This open discrimination was not limited to the “Russians.” In 1941, Mr. and
Mrs. Robert E. Hecht, Sr. bought a lot in the upscale Ruxton neighborhood.
Thirty-five Ruxton residents wrote them a letter telling them that he had an
offer to sell his lot and urged him to accept. Even Jewish builders like Joseph
Meyerhoff colluded with the Roland Park for business reasons. Jews were mostly welcomed
in northwest Baltimore but not in other parts of the city. This ghettoization
helped make Baltimore Jewry more ethnic and traditional than in some other
cities.
Willard Hackerman was fresh out of Hopkins
in the mid 1930s. He managed to land a job at Whiting-Turner. “They didn’t ask
me, and I didn’t tell them,” he said about his Jewishness. “So I was always
terrified; hiring Jews was just not done.” Faced with a payroll form that asked
his religion, he thought, “Oh, I am dead.” He filled in the form “Orthodox” and
nobody bothered him. Later, under his leadership, the firm became the state’s
most influential contractor.
The fact that the vast majority of the
people were born in Baltimore and were forced to live in the same neighborhoods
made for a close-knit community and a network to help others. Individuals who
became doctors, lawyers, etc., remained intensely loyal to their
neighborhood-based communities and helped others get ahead.
Ner Israel: a
Light for the Future
According to the book’s authors, “The most
important new institution for the city’s Orthodox future had its roots not in
East Baltimore but in middle class northwest Baltimore, in Forest Park.
Tifereth Israel Congregation invited the young Talmudic scholar Jacob Ruderman
to be its rabbi. He agreed on the condition that he could open a yeshiva in the
building. Despite some opposition from the shul’s Jewish neighbors, who feared
that the yeshiva would not present a properly Americanized appearance, Ner
Israel opened in 1933 with 14 students on the two upper floors of the
synagogue.
“Beyond a core of about 30 families, Rabbi
Ruderman found little support at first. His wife, Feiga, made the rounds of
Jewish businesses to solicit food, linens, and other necessities. The yeshiva
survived on these donations, such as “three fowls weekly” from a poultry company.
By 1942 (under the leadership of recently arrived Herman Neuberger), Ner
Israel had grown to 220 students and built a new 11-acre facility. In the
post-World War II years, the impact of Ner Israel on Orthodoxy in Baltimore
would be profound.”
Over 30 synagogues emerged in Northwest
Baltimore between 1930 and 1940, most being Modern Orthodox. As we may recall,
in that era, many of the shuls had microphones and low mechitzas, and most of the members were more traditional than
strictly Orthodox. But, unlike many cities, Conservative Judaism did not
emerge to the extent it did in other cities.
The Modern Orthodox shuls blended Orthodox
practice and modern style in a way that appealed to immigrants and their
children. The most popular new congregation was Beth Tfiloh. In 1922, they set
the tone by building a community center complete with a gymnasium before
building a synagogue. They worshiped in a converted cottage. Beth Tfiloh soon
became the third largest congregation in Baltimore with 600 members. Then
there was a machlokes (dispute), and
the majority of the membership voted to follow Chizuk Amuno’s example and have
the women sit on raised platforms on either side of the men’s section, with no
partition separating them. But here is the nugget that shows something
about tradition in Baltimore: The Beth Tfiloh membership voted to submit their
decision and to follow the ruling of three Orthodox rabbis. I do not know who
these rabbis were.
The congregation interviewed candidates for
the rabbinate from the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary and from
Jewish Theological Seminary, which was at that time still sort of Orthodox. The
members were looking for the best speaker with “the culture of the newer type
of rabbi with the piety and learning of the older type.” They settled on JTS
graduate Samuel Rosenblatt.
On to Pikesville
After World War II, powerful forces came
together to cause a national rush to suburbia among both Jews and gentiles. The
GI Bill helped create a generation of homeowners. After the war, there was a
baby boom, and life in the old neighborhoods was not attractive to many of the
young families, who were completely Americanized. Barbara Sachs’s family moved
from Druid Hill Park to Cheswolde in 1954. “My parents wanted to get away from
the row houses. They wanted a place they could say was their dream home.”
But let’s not kid ourselves. The main
factor pushing the Jews out of their neighborhoods was white flight. In the mid
1960s, recalled Rose Cohen, “The neighborhood changed completely. Forest Park
became deserted overnight. In 1960, Lower Park Heights was 95% white, and
in 1970 it was 95% black. One factor was the massive race riots in the
aftermath of the assassination of Martin Luther King. From April 5 to 16, 1968,
six people were killed, over 500 were injured, and large areas of the city were
destroyed.
Blockbusting real estate companies
encouraged fears of crime and lower home values. They spread rumors as they
canvassed door to door and found ways to induce panic and solicit cheap sales,
which they could “flip” to blacks. Minnie Cohn, who lived on Shirley Avenue,
said, “We wanted to get out of the neighborhood fast. We had paid $11,000 for
the house, and we only got $7,000 when we sold it.”
Besides the insidious practices of the
blockbusters, many of whom were Jews, there was another factor. Only the Jews
allowed blacks into their neighborhood. Black families seeking a middle-class
lifestyle were excluded from many areas of Baltimore, as were Jews. In a
certain sense, Jews were as segregated as the blacks, Jews still lived
clustered together. Upper Park Heights was 83% Jewish in 1968. Pikesville was
very attractive because builders saw the market and there were whole new
neighborhoods being marketed to Jews. As one woman said about her family’s move
to Pikesville “I don’t think that my parents seriously considered any other
area; that’s where Jewish people lived.”
Life in the
Suburban Age
The postwar years saw a religious revival
in the United States. Especially for those who moved to the suburbs and lived
in neighborhoods not exclusively Jewish, belonging to a synagogue enabled them
to gather together and express their Jewishness. The “synagogue center” became
popular, with expansive campuses and spacious parking lots. A major reason for
the upsurge in congregational membership was the emphasis on
children. Programming for youth was very important. In reality, many
joined synagogues so that their children could become bnei mitzva. Hebrew
Schools were full. Oheb Shalom’s religious school, mostly Sunday school, grew
from 300 in 1947 to more than 1,000 in 1955.
Clearly, Conservative Judaism made inroads
in postwar Baltimore, but not to the extent as in other cities. Orthodox
synagogues held their own, and they too moved to suburbia. In 1947, Chizuk Amuno
introduced mixed seating for the first time. A major battle was fought at Beth
Tfiloh. Rabbi Rosenblatt approved many innovations, such as bas mitzva, but he
held firm on separate seating. And Beth Tfiloh listened to their beloved
rabbi. Those who disagreed quit and founded Beth El.
Two forms of Orthodoxy emerged. “Lax
Orthodoxy” made inroads as many Orthodox synagogues seemed more concerned with
joining the suburban rush than maintaining religious standards. But all of the
Modern Orthodox shuls kept separate seating. This was much different than other
cities. In the 1960s, Baltimore Jews identified as Orthodox three times more
than did Jews in other major cities. This may not have indicated strict
observance, but there was no wave to join the Conservative movement, which
had only three large synagogues and has not founded a new one in recent memory.
The chapter on “the other form of Orthodoxy”
is still being written. Ner Israel emerged as a major force within the Jewish
community and beyond. Bais Yaakov was founded in 1942, the first girls day
school outside of New York. The Talmudical Academy, founded during the immigrant
era by Rabbi Abraham N. Schwartz, expanded greatly, moved to a new campus and,
in 1968, billed itself as “the largest Hebrew Day School on the continent.” Holocaust
survivors increased the ranks of strictly observant Jews. Arriving in 1952,
Rabbi Yitzchok Sternhell opened a school for the sons of Holocaust survivors
with the language of instruction Yiddish. It grew into the Torah Institute,
which increased greatly in size when other parents also chose it for their sons
and the language of instruction became English.
Under the stewardship of Rabbi Herman
Neuberger, achdus (unity) was
emphasized. In 1973, the Baltimore Sun noted
that, compared to other American cities, “the Baltimore Jewish community is
unique in at least the outward appearance of unity. Three factors contributed:
residential concentration, strong institutions, and outstanding leadership.”
In addition to providing religious
leadership, Ner Israel proved to be a significant draw. “Families moved to
Baltimore, and Baltimore’s day schools and yeshivos remained the community’s
most noted asset. Under the leadership of Rabbi Moshe Heinemann, the Vaad
Hakashrus developed the internationally respected Star-K certification label.”
A new and greatly enlarged mikva was built. The list of communal chesed organizations keeps
growing. The frum areas are
still mostly connected but keep growing at a rapid pace with many new
shuls being founded. Baltimore historical writer Eli Schlossberg recalls only
two synagogues that were totally shomer
Shabbos in his youth, Shearith Israel and the Adas. I would hesitate to
count how many there are today, headed by dynamic talmidei chachamim, each with many shiurim and activities for all
ages.
Meanwhile, the rest of the community was
moving in the opposite direction. A growing number of young adults
remained unaffiliated with organized Jewish life. Low birth rate and
intermarriage led to a severe decline in enrollment in Hebrew schools, at the
same time that the Orthodox were building even more day schools and yeshivos
and founding numerous chesed
organizations. The Conservative movement launched Krieger Schechter Day School
in 1980. Beth Tfiloh opened a high school in 1986. But Baltimore Hebrew’s Day
School and the Cardin High School closed for lack of enrollment.
Nowadays, Jews live in many neighborhoods
all over the greater Baltimore area. Chabad shluchim
are found in numerous areas that one wouldn’t imagine there are any Jews. My
wife Feiga is a nurse and recently treated a woman who told her that she and her
husband were the shluchim in White
Marsh.
At this point, although much more could be
written, we must wind it up. Look how much has changed. The growth of the frum community has been exponential,
surpassing the imagination of previous generations. And, it is not slowing
down in the least.
We are writing the next chapter. May
Hashem help us to continue on the path of achdus
that has brought us to this day.
Sidebar
The Jew Bill
by Rabbi Elchonon Oberstein
Jews have known how to navigate politics and have played a
role in Baltimore and Maryland, either formally or behind the scenes, down to
the present day. But it wasn’t always that way.
Before 1826, Jews were prevented from
holding public office, joining the military, or practicing law in Maryland as
the state constitution required that such people be Christians. There were only
a few Jews in Baltimore, but several of them were very prominent and
politically active. In 1797, Solomon Etting petitioned the legislature to
change the Christian oath requirement. It was not passed by the legislature. In
1816, another Jew, Jacob I. Cohen, Jr., sent his own proposal to the
legislature, which was also unsuccessful. The cause was taken up by state
delegate Thomas Kennedy, who was passionate in his belief in religious freedom.
It was he who introduced “An Act for the Relief of the Jews of Maryland,” which
became known as the “Jew Bill.” He reintroduced it eight years in a row to no
avail. The legislature didn’t really care about a couple of Jews in Baltimore
who wanted to gain elective office. It wasn’t relevant, until something
happened.
In 1823, Benjamin Cohen, Jacob’s younger
brother, was elected captain of the volunteer military, the Marion Rifle Corps.
He was very popular, so no one seemed to care that he was never forced to take
a Christian oath. But when the passage of the Jew Bill was again in doubt, the
younger Cohen claimed he could no longer serve as captain because the State of
Maryland did not allow Jews to hold public office. The company voted to operate
without a captain until the Jew Bill was voted upon and passed. Not only that,
but the governor took a starring role in the drama by presenting the leaderless
company with the State flag and commending them on their noble behavior in
resolving not to replace Cohen.
It worked. The legislature finally passed
the “Jew Bill.” This public spectacle demonstrates that at least some Jews of a
certain status were already playing a civic role. As soon as the bill became
law, both Etting and the older Cohen brother were elected to the Baltimore City
Council, where they were important members.
