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Leon Mirsky Remembers His Life in Mir

 

 

MY LIFE IN RUSSIA

by Leon Mirsky

My mother’s name was Shaineh. My father’s name was Yehudah Laib. He was a blacksmith and a lifesaver. Our house was 20 feet away from the lake. Many people used to come to bathe in the lake. The first 20 or 30 feet were shallow there; then it took a big drop and became very deep. People who swam there started to drown. Whenever my father heard a cry for help, he used to drop anything that he was doing, remove his boots, jump into the lake and pull the person out.

This used to happen two or three times a day. The Catholic priest and the rabbi of the town both came to see my father. They both blessed him end said that because of what he did neither he, nor his children, nor his children’s children would ever drown.

We had a one-story house with two apartments. Each apartment had four large rooms. Each room had a window. In the center of each apartment there was a big stove made out of stone, cement and sand. To heat the stove you used wood. My mother used to bake her own bread for a week in advance. For light, we had a kerosene lamp that could be made higher and lower.

My father and mother had seven children, four boys and three girls. We had a large blacksmith shop with two anvils, two bellows and all the necessary hammers, tongs, etc. We had lots of material in stock.

I was born in the l89O’s. When I became 5 1/2 years old, my mother dressed me up and took me to a Hebrew teacher. His class was in his apartment. He had ten pupils. He taught us how to read and write Yiddish and read Hebrew. I went to his class for one year, then I was promoted to a higher grade.

I tried to learn the Russian language but they told me that only Christians were admitted in school. We hired a private tutor and I learned some Russian.

As the years went by, I used to help my father in the blacksmith shop after school.

When I was about ten years old, Cossacks rode into our town and I was hit by one of them with his whip.

As the years went by, there were pogroms in Kishinev. Although we had no newspapers, bad news travels fast and we learned about it soon. We put shutters on our windows and bolted our door.

Sunday was market day for the Russian peasants and when they had sold their produce they used to spend their money on liquor (Wodka). When a peasant gets drunk, he either sleeps it off in the gutter or goes on a rampage. One Sunday, a drunken peasant came to take his plow and axe which he had left to be repaired. He tried to walk out without paying. When my father asked him for payment, the peasant dropped the plow, grabbed the axe and said, "You want money, eh?; well, I’ll kill you first."

Being that the peasant was much bigger than he was, my father tried to duck. The peasant would surely have hit my father with the axe if it weren’t for my older brother. My brother grabbed a large hammer and hit him in the back. The peasant fell. We took the axe out of his way so that he shouldn’t get cut.

Other peasants came in and asked what was going on. Then they took a look at him and said, "Oh, he’s drunk."

We picked him up and took him outside to his wagon. We laid him in the wagon and we told the horse to go home.

The next day, the peasant came back but this time he was sober. He paid his bill and remarked that his back hurt him but he didn’t know what from.

My older brother was disgusted and decided to come to America. He borrowed some money and left for New York. I spoke to my father and told him that since I would soon be eighteen, I would like to leave because I didn’t want to serve in the Russian Army. So we tried to sell everything we had by having the priest and rabbi announce it from their pulpits. My father also went to several towns to announce the sale.

About six months later, a husky mm and his wife came in and said that they would like to buy our place. His name was Lipshitz. Her name was Brocha. My father took them around and showed them the house and the blacksmith shop.

We also had a large piece of land where we grew vegetables, and apple, plum and pear trees. My father said that everything together was worth about 5000 rubles. Lipshitz then told my father that all he had was 1100 rubles. I said to my father, "Let’s find out how much it would cost to bring our family to New York."

Meanwhile, my father told the Lipshitz’ to move into the vacant part of our house. My father went to town and, after greasing the palms of the authorities, found out that it would cost 1000 rubles to get our family out of the country to New York. My father then told the Lipshitz’ that it was a deal. Lipshitz paid my father and my father signed everything over to him.

In order to leave Russia, you had to have a passport. After some more greasing of palms, we learned that it would take six months to get it. Meanwhile, my father helped Mr. Lipshitz in the shop.

Mrs. Lipshitz was then nine months pregnant and being that she baked her own bread, she placed the loaves of bread in the oven with a long-handled, wooden implement. While doing this, she happened to be standing in a large washtub. All of a sudden, she felt that the baby was coming and as she took one foot out of the washtub, the baby fell into it.

She grabbed the baby and looked through the window where her husband was working. Seeing that he was busy, she didn't want to bother him. She then took care of the baby and lay down in bed with it. She lay in bed for a while until she realized she had the bread in the oven. She then got up and removed the bread. Supper was a little late that day.

The six months passed. A messenger called to tell us to pick up our passports. My father went there right away. After greasing the palm, we weren’t asked too many questions. Being there are no records of the people over there, whatever you tell is O.K. I was near eighteen years. They will not let you go, if they know this, so my record reads born October l0th, 1891. The records of the others were taken at the word of my father. He received the passport, came home and started packing. We got hold of a coachman and we all piled in the wagon with our satchels and bundles, waved goodbye to everyone else. After traveling all night, we came to a railroad station. Of course, we saw the man in charge and waited in the waiting room and had to grease a little to be made comfortable.

The train arrived. My father showed the passport and tickets to the conductor; also greased again, so we all had seats together.

Now ·after traveling for some time, we came to Libov, where the ships came in. The name of the ship was "Carova." Our ship was in port; we all went aboard. Again we had to show passports, ticket and grease again. We were given a place on board. After we had traveled for many days, we arrived at Ellis Island. My uncle was expecting us and was there to meet us. After greeting us, he took us to his house. We were given blankets and pillows and slept on the floor. The next day, my uncle and father found rooms at 17 Christie St. To heat the rooms, gas radiators were lighted; gas burners in each room. You put a quarter in the meter every so often to keep the gas burning.


 

MEMORIES OF MY BOYHOOD IN RUSSIA

One late summer's day an army of Cossacks rode into our town of the Mir in Russia. Everyone ran into their house. I was still a little boy and not smart enough to run away. One Cossack on his horse rode swiftly by me and walloped me with his whip. It took about six months to heal.

Still, they are very polite.

They inspected our garden where we had all kinds of vegetables growing. Then they brought a large straw basket went into the garden and cut all the cabbages they could lay their hands on.

My mother was standing in the doorway watching them and they said the following to her. “Spasebo za ka pusta, “ which means, “Thanks for the cabbage.”

See - aren't they polite?

Czar Nicholas II one day rode into our town. Everyone turned out to see him. He stood up in his coach and said to the people, ”Have you any complaints against the government?”

 One man came over and said, "Your Majesty, the government ordered six coaches from me and when I had them finished and delivered, they didn’t accept them. What shall I do?"

The Czar called him over closer and said to him, "Did you grease the wheels?" (Meaning, did you give a bribe?)

 


A Farmers Life In Russia

by Leon Mirsky

Mind you, though I am in New York since 1908, I still remember what life was like for a farmer more than 65 years ago in old Russia.

A Russian farmer had a large piece of land. He lived in a large log cabin. The house had a pitched roof covered with cane and straw. In the center of the house was a stove made out of stone, cement and sand with an opening so that bread could be baked. The fuel to heat it was logs of wood.

His bedding was large sacks filled with hay, of which the pillows were also made. Some farmers had beds without springs; big boards were used. Some said that the good earth was enough and slept on the ground.

On the farm, he grew wheat, oats, corn, hay and barley. He also had vegetable garden where he grew kapusta (cabbage), large white radishes, white onions, garlic, turnips, beans and peas. Some was for his own use and some he took to market to sell.

He generally had a lot of chickens that laid eggs. These he also took to market to sell. He used to sell the eggs for half a kopeke (half a cent) apiece.
Market day was Sunday. When he had money, he would buy a bottle of vodka. He would drink the whole bottle and sleep it off in the gutter. Another would go on the rampage and the only thing to do was to get out of his way.

A farmer generally was married and had children. Some farmers would bring their son, only, to town at the age of 6 or 7 to learn to read and write. After learning for a few seasons, the boy would go back to the farm and help out.
When he came of age, a young man wanted to get married. He didn't look for a beautiful girl but for a strong, healthy woman to help him on the farm and to be a devoted wife and mother for his children.

Among her other chores, a wife had to get up early in the morning and bake the bread, milk the cow, prepare the breakfast and make sure that the house was warm. She also had to knit, spin thread, grind wheat, etc.

Generally, his parents picked a wife for him. As life went on, he had children of his own and when his parents became old, he took over the farm, and the cycle repeated itself.


Old Russian Folk Tale

A farmer and his  wife never saw mirror in their life. One day the wife told her husband to take a walk to town and buy some assorted needles, thread and cotton in order to put assorted patches on his clothes.

He walked to town and inquired where he could buy these things. They pointed to a place where he could buy them. He bought the articles and then he happened to look on the counter and he saw a little mirror. When he looked into it, he called out “Father!" He asked how much the mirror was and when they said 25¢, he paid his money and bought it and took it home.

He brought it into the attic of his house and everyday he used to go up and ·admire his father. His wife became suspicious. So, one day when the farmer was out working in the fields, she went up into the attic and there the mirror was laying on the table. When she looked into it she cried aloud, "For this ugly thing he runs every day to look at? She must have been a beauty!“

Leon Mirsky

 

September 2017

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