The Wicked Man Issue

March 11, 2022

A New Scroll of LA Jewish News

Folks,

This year, the Purim story with its ageless tale of heroism and the triumph of good over evil seems especially universal. The world has a new Haman and his name is Putin. But in this new scroll, he is as powerful as King Ahasveras, doing everything he can to increase the number of provinces under his wicked rule. There is a new Mordecai as well, a Jewish president named Zelensky, who refuses to bow down. And there are thousands of Esthers, Ukrainian women trying to save their people from King Haman’s deadly decree. In bombed hospitals and underground weapons factories, they reveal their heroism. Though daily, King Haman is hung in the court of public opinion (the noose of war crimes awaits), and the world has cut off his oligarch sons, will that be enough to save us all from a mad King who threatens the world with a throw of his nuclear dice? Mordecai calls to us for the means to close the sky and defend his people. But will we listen, or will a gragger of fear and the price at the pump block out his plea?

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Shabbat shalom
Edmon J. Rodman

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A taste of war in West Hollywood

Posters in the window of a West Hollywood caviar shop.

Edmon J. Rodman

On the 12th day after Russian forces invaded Ukraine, it was terribly quiet in West Hollywood. Along the stretch of Santa Monica Boulevard, east of Fairfax, that is home to Russian grocery and caviar and fish stores, delis and bakeries, and the Chabad Russian Synagogue, if a war was going on, it was all within.

As I walked past the Cyrillic-lettered shop windows that brightly reflected the California sunshine, there were few people on the street, and in most of the stores, I was the only customer.

Since the 1970s, when many Russian Jews from the Former Soviet Union (FSU) began moving into the neighborhood that is within walking distance to nearby Jewish social service agencies, as well as synagogues, this area has been home to thousands of Russian and Ukrainian Jews. (According to a 2013 West Hollywood survey, 4,000 residents out of a population of 35,000, approximately 11 percent, identified country of the FSU as their primary ancestry.)

Jews from Russia and Ukraine moved into the adjacent housing hoping for a free and not repressive place to explore and express their Jewishness, and a better environment to raise and educate their children.

That afternoon, looking for conversation about the tragedy playing out in Ukraine, and maybe a taste of something Russian (my grandparents were from Byelorussia) I stepped into T & Y Bakery. Looking past the cookies, I was immediately drawn to a hot-from-the-oven tray of strudel (a popular treat in Russia) sitting on a baking tray on the counter.

“Cheese, meat, cabbage and apple,” said the shopkeeper. “How much do you want?”

“A small piece of the apple,” I said. “Is it a family recipe?”

“Yes,” she answered, handing me a paper bag with my small purchase, then turning away, clearly not wanting to engage further.

Though the strudel was warm, delicious, and not-too-sweet, I would have to go elsewhere for talk of the invasion.

Engaging with Jewish Russians was nothing new, as they had entered my life in the 80s, when my children went to school with kids from the FSU.

I had met Ukrainians too. In the 90s, my minyan had hired a woman from Odessa to educate and play with the group’s children while we prayed. A pleasant but somewhat pensive sort, she brightened one day when I asked her about the Jewish Russian writer Isaac Babel who had grown up in and written short stories about the Jews of Odessa.

I thought of her as I entered the Odessa Grocery.

As a kosher shopper, I immediately recognized some of the certified pickled items and jams from Eastern Europe that I usually find in a Jewish market. In the small refrigerator cabinet, I found brands of Tvorog, Farmer’s Cheese, popular in the FSU, which is often eaten with jams, honey and other fruit toppings. Moving to the checkout counter, I found a basket of ripe persimmons that I could not resist.

 “Are you from Odessa?” I asked while paying.

“Kyiv,” she said, counting out the change.

“Do you have relatives there?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered, and that was that; another invasion successfully countered.

In Kashtan Wholesale, I was more successful.

Inside the market, I found the shelves dotted with tiny blue and yellow Ukrainian flags. Drawn to a large, gold, seven branch ceramic menorah, I picked it up, only to draw the eye and ire of the shopkeeper. “Please put it down. If you are interested, I will help you with that,” she said. “It’s filled with cognac.”

“Are you Ukrainian?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

Expecting another shutdown, I spilled the beans. “I’m a Jewish journalist. I’ve been watching the invasion on TV, do you have family in Ukraine?” I asked, expecting a monosyllabic response.

Then, surprisingly,  in quick bursts, the woman, (who wanted to speak anonymously) began to speak.

“I came here 30 years at the age of 13.” she said. “We came here because we were persecuted for being Jewish and because of Chernobyl.”

With relatives still in Kyiv, she was deeply worried, especially about the children. “Their house was blown up. They are now deep underground,” she said, explaining that she only heard from them via text message. “That’s the only way I trust” she said, suspicious of the coverage of both the Russian media and the U.S.

“Until now, Ukrainians and Russians were friends,” she said, “same language.”

“There was Covid. This is worse,” she added, “much worse.” To help out, she and others in the community had raised money and gathered supplies that were on their way to Kyiv.

“I hope your family is safe,” I said.

While mulling over what else I should have said, I crossed the street, and stopped in front of a Caviar shop to eye a large neon fish in the window. Below it, I found a small poster with a large phone number “Humanitarian aid for Ukraine,” it said.

Next to that was another poster bearing the searing image that was the animus of my walk: the face of Vladimir Putin, with a small bloody handprint superimposed.

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Eastern European Jews helped build LA

Alla Nazimova, silent screen star, 1923

Edmon J. Rodman

From the turn of the 20th century until today, Jewish Russian and Ukrainian immigrants have made significant cultural contributions in Los Angeles, and have helped to shape its Jewish community.

Though not always welcomed by the established German Jewish community, Jews from Eastern Europe, established successful businesses, made names for themselves in LA's art community, and helped to create the film business.

Benjamin Platt, a Russian Jew who came to the U.S. when he was 20, opened his first music store in 1905. The single store that sold sheet music and rolls for player pianos grew into a chain, and eventually became a corporation selling hi-fi equipment, tv’s and appliances. Platt was an early member of Congregation Sinai, and later a major contributor to Sinai Temple.
 
In time for the Academy Awards, we also remember Alla Nazimova, a Russian actress, known for her roles on Broadway and the silent screen, was an influential Hollywood player. Her residence on Sunset Boulevard, known originally as the Havenhurst house, would later become the Garden of Allah Hotel.
 
While we are on Hollywood, Joseph Schenck, a Russian Jew, became the second president of United Artists. He became one of the founders of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, which established the Oscars.
 
Louis Epstein opened the Pickwick Book Shop in Hollywood in 1938, and later grew it into a successful chain, was also born in Russia.
 
Peter M. Kahn, born in Kyiv in 1878, and was jailed several times for his opposition to the Czar, contributed both to the development of LA’s produce business, and Jewish communal life. When he died in 1952 the Jewish community named both a building and library after him.
 
Peter Krasnow, a California Modernist, was born Feivish Reisberg in 1886 in Zawill, the Jewish ghetto of Novograd Volynsk in northern Ukraine. He and his wife Rose first came to LA in 1922.
 
A retrospective of Krasnow’s colorful and abstract paintings and sculptures was shown a few years ago at the Laguna Art Museum.
 
During his career he also designed Ark doors for Temple B’Nai Israel, today the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center, that are still in use today in the synagogue’s Knell Chapel. He created Ark doors for Sinai Temple as well, when it was located on New Hampshire and Fourth. Today, they are on display at the Synagogue's current location on Wilshire.

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Downtown walking tour spotlights LA Jewish history

Over the last year, in downtown LA, I have been researching Broadway's Jewish past, walking the street, collecting artifacts, getting a feel for the life that once flourished there. To share that work with you, I will be leading a walking tour of the street called “Jewish Lights Over Broadway" on Sunday, March 20 from 7 to 9 p.m.

The tour, organized with the Museum of Neon Art in Glendale, (RESERVATIONS REQUIRED, make them HERE) illuminates how the Jewish entrepreneurs of Broadway, many of them immigrants, filled the street with bright lights, and the city’s homes with music, the latest in fashion, and the staples required to satisfy a hungry, growing city.

Providing a bright backdrop for the coming Academy Awards, the historic neon lights of LA’s Broadway glow with the little-known story of the city’s Jewish history.

Demonstrating that Jews contributed to the early days of the film business in unexpected ways, many of the street's movie palaces were designed by Jewish architects like G. Albert Lansburgh, or conceived by Jewish showmen, like Sid Grauman.

Some of them debuted films that changed motion picture history, like the Tower Theater's screening of the ground-breaking talkie, the "Jazz Singer."

Other historic buildings found on Broadway were the homes of Jewish-owned department stores, men’s and women’s clothing shops, jewelry stores, food markets, and cigar stands.

As we peer into storefronts, read the names chiseled into the facades, and hear stories about the the former owner's, and examine remnants of their work, the Jewish story of Broadway comes into focus.

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Help for refugees

Aid for Ukrainaian refugees is now available through a new loan program announced by The Jewish Free Loan Association. According to the organization, “The funds that JFLA is offering to help refugees fleeing violence in Ukraine are for local residents who live here in LA, Ventura and Santa Barbara and need funds to help their family members and friends with transportation, medical care, living expenses, etc.” Loans in the program are for up to $15,000 and carry no interest or fees. More information is available HERE, or contact Nikki@jfla.org.

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Seen On the Way: 9th and Broadway

Sometimes, the whole MegilLA can be summed up in three words.

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