Moishe Shlemazel

In my parent's birthplace, the town of Podzencheen in the western part of Poland there were many men named Moishe. One of these, my mother's second cousin once removed, was known by the entire town as Moishe Shlemazel.

Now as you have probably guessed, Moishe Shlemazel was so named because he was a very unlucky person. And he was so named not out of malice, but out of compassion. You have all heard the expression, “Everything he touches turns to gold”. Well, when referring to Moishe Shlemazel the expression was that “Everything he touches turns to stone.” Not lead. Lead you can sell. That is how bad everyone said his luck was.

Now Moishe might have been a shlemazel, but he was also a mensch. Just because someone is unlucky that does not exclude him or her from being an honourable person. Anyhow , here is his story.

Surprisingly, Moishe Shlemazel did not consider himself to be unlucky. However, the entire population of Podzencheen did and they all felt sorry for him. It started in his teens when his father Yankel died suddenly of a stroke. The townsfolk considered it to be a tragedy, but not Moishe. What they did not know was that Yankel had the stroke during one of his frequent beatings of his eldest son. Moishe who was trying to communicate with G-d at the time was thankful that his prayers were finally and irrevocably answered.

As a result of Yankel's death Moishe had to quit cheder (school) to run his father’s fabric store and support his mother and younger brother Abraham. All of the citizens of Podzencheen again pitied his bad luck. Not Moishe, he hated cheder and tried hard not to show happiness at his good fortune in having an excuse to finally quit it forever.

As could be expected the fabric store did not do too well under Moishe Shlemazel's management. It seemed that whenever Moishe ordered in a large quantity of a popular material it immediately went out of fashion. Then, when Moishe knocked the price down to get rid of the ‘gatherer of dust’ it immediately came back into style again. The townsfolk felt sorry for him but after all a bargain is a bargain and they snapped up the material before he could put the price up again. After a few years the once prosperous store was barely bringing in enough to support Moishe and his mother and brother.

Finally Moishe changed his tactics; after all a Shlemiel he was not. He watched until his wholesaler cut the price on a once fashionable material. Moishe waited months until he knew the wholesaler was getting anxious to sell. He then offered a ridiculously low price to take the entire stock. Then keeping one bolt for himself he hired a horse and wagon and took the rest to the province of Galicia. With his mother Rivka looking after the store he peddled the material, which no one else wanted, door to door until he sold it all; and at a handsome profit. Galicianers were good people but they had a reputation for being behind the times.

Moishe was now doing really well. So when Abraham, now eighteen, asked if he could enroll in the University of Vienna, Moishe promised to support him. Not long after Abraham left, Moishe’s mother Rivka fell ill. She did not actually fall down. " Fell ill" is just about as silly an expression as "took sick". You do not fall down and you do not take an illness. Take, implies that you stuck out your hand voluntarily and took hold of some sickness. Nonsense, it comes to you unwanted and without even asking permission.

Now poor Moishe Shlemazel not only had to look after the store by himself he also had to look after Rivka. The store was easy but Rivka in her illness became a complainer; a real kvetch. Kvetch is one of those beautiful onomatopoeic Yiddish words. If you do not know what onomatopoeic or kvetch mean, look them up.

Not only did the business now suffer but also Rivka's incessant demands for attention were driving Moishe crazy. After more than a year, Rivka finally passed on. Almost the entire Jewish population of Podzencheen came to the funeral and whispered to anyone who would listen, "Poor Moishe Shlemazel, he is now an orphan." Moishe, however, although he loved his mother, was thankful that she was out of both his and her misery and for his good luck in being free again.

Now, with his full concentration on the store, Moishe was able to build business up again. After all, he had not only himself to support but also Abraham. Abraham whose letters always ended with a humble request for more money. Moishe never refused.

Do you think that now G-d or the Evil Eye or whoever was responsible would leave him alone? No! It was 1914 and Moishe was drafted to fight against Germany and its ally Austria. However, the price of textiles went up and Moishe was able to sell his store and attached home at a handsome profit. Uncertain of his future, Moishe sent the entire proceeds to his brother. It cost him dearly to smuggle the money into enemy Austria. In his enclosed letter Moishe begged Abraham to avoid getting drafted into the Austrian army by fleeing to America.

Moishe fought in the trenches for three years. That is, if you call shooting over the heads of the enemy fighting. Moishe like many other Jewish conscripts were loath to shoot at an enemy who might be a fellow Jew, even a relative and in this case, possibly a brother.

Moishe finally was badly wounded in his left arm and the doctors had to amputate it. Losing his arm earned him an honourable and early discharge from the army and Moishe returned home to Podzencheen. The town was now divided into two groups. Those who wanted to call him, compassionately, Moishe-one-arm and those who still referred to him as Moishe Shlemazel. However, everyone pitied his bad luck.

Moishe on the other hand considered himself fortunate to have survived three years of a bloody war and to be out of it in exchange for only an arm. Even when the war ended for Russia and Poland three months later, Moishe still felt that missing three months of war was worth the loss of an arm.

Now our friend really did fall on hard times. His home and store were gone and the meager pension that he been awarded on his discharge stopped after only two months. This was because of the Communist Revolution of 1917. The new Communist government finally began paying him his pension in early 1919. However, once again his bad luck kicked in and Poland embroiled itself in a war of liberation against overlord Russia. Once again his Russian pension stopped.

At first, full of the enthusiasm of a survivor, Moishe tried to raise enough money to rent a horse and wagon and buy bargain textiles to sell in Galicia. But not having any collateral and only one arm the bank would not lend him any money. His friends who said that they would, did not have any money to lend. Mind you, how many times have you heard “If I had the money I would gladly lend it to you.” Then they shake your hand warmly and drive away in their new Cadillac Eldorado. And the banks, they don’t loan anyone money who really needs it.

Moishe finally had to swallow his pride and move into the Podzencheen hekdish. You never heard of the hekdish? Well, contrary to people who think that Jews are a stingy money grubbing people, and well before government welfare, every Jewish community in Europe in those days had a poor house called the ‘Hekdish’. These were run by the community and not by the Synagogue or by any government. There, needy Jews were given basic shelter and food. Even if you did not live there, you could always drop in for a meal.

The little money that Moishe earned running errands and doing odd jobs he used to cloth himself and help pay for his upkeep at the poor house. Finally, the war with Russia ended. Moishe had now been living in the poorhouse for more than three years. He was so unhappy and miserable, that many nights he cried himself to sleep. He had no prospects for the future. Without an arm he could not find a job and without a job and arm he could not find a wife. His life, if you could call it living, was at a dead end. In the past he had ignored and rejected his being called Moishe Shlemazel. Events in his life were either misinterpreted to be bad luck, or they were only temporary setbacks. However, now he began to believe that he really was cursed. The only thing that kept him going was his desire, now that this latest war had finally ended, to find out if Abraham was still alive. If he could only see him one last time, his miserable existence would then have had some meaning.

Without money there was not much he could do. He prayed daily that Abraham had survived the war. Now that postal service had resumed, he wrote letters to his brother’s last address and to the University of Vienna. No one had heard from Abraham for years. Moishe was now more determined than ever to find a job and earn enough money to try and find Abraham.

One afternoon Moishe lay resting against the side of the poorhouse, exhausted from a morning of one arm wood chopping. Moishe, eyes closed, was trying to envision what his brother would now look like, if still alive. He had not seen Abraham for over eight years and had not heard from him for six.

He must have dozed off because suddenly someone was shaking him awake. "Moishe, Moishe, wake up! Oh my G-d, what has happened to your arm?"

Moishe slowly opened his eyes. "What a nice dream", he thought. "Here is what Abraham would look like as a man, right in front of me, and elegantly dressed like a Polish count".

"Moishe, Moishe, look at me. It's me, Abraham. Thank G-d, I found you".

Moishe wiped his eyes with his one hand. Abraham dragged him up into a massive hug. As soon as Abraham tried to speak, he began to cry and when Moishe tried to speak, he cried also. Moishe out of joy and Abraham out of joy but also out of sorrow and shame that he had not found his poor brother sooner. They remained like this, holding each other erect, for a good half hour.

Finally they pulled apart and sat down in the grass. Their knees were too weak to hold them up. Abraham sat next to Moishe and looked up at the sky while he told his story. He could not look at his brother without breaking into tears.

With the huge amount of money that Moishe had sent him in 1914, Abraham had had enough money to escape to America. Once there, thanks to Moishe's gift, he was able to continue his studies at the prestigious Boston Medical School. Upon graduation, he set up his medical practice in Newark, New Jersey.

His practice was an instant success, especially with the Jewish families that had unmarried eligible daughters. An entire extended family would switch doctors to see this new prospect. Abraham was still unmarried because a commitment would cost him at least half of his lucrative practice.

Abraham stopped talking but he would not let Moishe say anything. One look at him and where he was living already told Abraham more than he wished to know. He had come to find his brother and to take him home to Newark. He had not expected to find Moishe in tattered clothes, maimed and living off of charity. Abraham could not look at Moishe, it broke his heart.

Finally Abraham spoke "Come on. Come on Shlemazel. Let's go home".