Librarian as Witness - Six, or Pirke Avot and the FBI

In 1925, three years after the Jewish Institute of Religion opened its doors, it published an edition of Pirke Avot with a translation and commentary by R. Travers Herford (1860-1950), a British scholar of rabbinic Judaism who was also a Unitarian minister. The book, part of a perhaps over-ambitious publishing project Rabbi Stephen Wise envisioned for his institution, did achieve some success, being reprinted in 1930 and 1945 by the J.I.R., and later by Schocken in 1961 and 1975.

The Reverend Herford was in the process of preparing revisions during the 1940s, corresponding regularly with the J.I.R.'s Librarian, Rabbi I. Edward Kiev (1905-1975). At one point, Rabbi Kiev told me, the mail was simply not reliable enough and certainly not speedy enough to get the job done in a timely manner. So Herford would send his revisions, additions, and comments in terse, cryptic telegrams, and where necessary, Rabbi Kiev would sent a wire back.

One day in 1944, Rabbi Kiev related to me, an agent of the F.B.I. showed up at the J.I.R. and asked to speak with Rabbi Wise. He said there was evidence that the J.I.R. was being used as a relay station for spies exchanging "information," and the agent placed a pile of copies of the intercepted messages on Rabbi Wise's desk.

Rabbi Wise roared with laughter and tried to explain to the non-plussed agent that this was not sensitive information being exchanged by spies, but editorial comments on a text being prepared for publication, the text being "aphorisms of rabbis of yore, some of whom may have known Jesus."

Rabbi Kiev then produced a bundle of yellowing and crumbling telegrams tied with a bit of string.

After he died and I was cleaning up the office we shared, I looked for these telegrams but never found them.

Librarian as Witness - Five

What a ponderous title, "The Librarian as Witness"! Whatever does that mean?In my nearly four decades as a librarian in one capacity or another I have come into contact with many remarkable individuals, some of whom have shared remarkable stories from their lives.

A book that appeared on January 1 of this year is a novel entitled People of the Book, by Geraldine Brooks. It is based on an actual manuscript, the Sarajevo Haggadah, that dates from fifteenth century Spain. In 1991 it's value was estimated to be $700,000,000 [Yes, seven hundred million dollars]! During the Serb-Bosnian War on the mid-1990s, this unique manuscript was nearly lost when the Serbs torched the Bosnian National Library, but a valiant Muslim employe of the Library, knowing of its worth, risked his life to smuggle it to safety.

Fritz Bamberger (1902-1984) was a major presence at the College-Institute during the administrations of Nelson Glueck and Alfred Gottschalk. Officially his title was Professor of Intellectual History, but he was an individual of a thousand facets. One of his great interests was books - their history, production, etc., anything related to books, and by extension, manuscripts. And his personal library, especially of Spinoziana, was world famous.

He told me about his personal "encounter" with the Sarajevo Haggadah. One summer, in the mid-1920s, he was vacationing in the Yugoslavia and decided to visit Sarajevo to view the famous Haggadah. After leaving his suitcase at the hotel, he went to the library and asked to see this famous manuscript.

He was directed to an office where a "Turk" (i.e., a Yugoslavian identified as Muslim because he was wore a fez) sat at a desk reading a newspaper, the ashtray on his desk overflowing with cigarette butts. Dr. Bamberger made his request, and the "Turk" (Dr. Bamberger's word) sighed, slowly put down his newspaper, and wearily rising to his feet, went to a safe in the corner of the room.

He removed the manuscript and gave it to Dr. Bamberger. Dr. Bamberger wanted to spend time examining it and so looked around the room for a table where to sit down. But there was only one table, the same one with the filthy ashtray where the "Turk" was sitting.

Dr. Bamberger asked where he might sit to examine the manuscript, and the "Turk" replied that he could take the manuscript back to his hotel room and return it when he was finished with it! And this is exactly what he did. Moreover, the "Turk" asked for no information as to his name or at which hotel he was staying.

With a far-away look in his eyes and a smile on his lips, he told me how seriously tempted he was to bury the manuscript in his suitcase and hop the next rain out of town!

But he ultimately did the right thing. He returned to his room and spent the evening minutely examining the Haggadah. And the next day he duly returned it to the "Turk," who wearily arose from his table, still with its dirty ashtray and newspaper, and returned the manuscript to the safe.

An Animated look at the JSP

Did you know that you can get to the several excellent research tools from your home computers through the Jewish Studies Portal? (http://jsp.huc.edu/) Use your HUC login to get to BibleWorks, DavkaWriter, Bar Ilan Responsa Project, ATLA and more. If you don't have or don't remember your HUC login, ask your local network administrator.

Check out this overview

Librarian as Witness - Four

What a ponderous title, " The Librarian as Witness"! Whatever does that mean?

In my nearly four decades as a librarian in one capacity or another I have come into contact with many remarkable individuals, some of whom have shared remarkable stories from their lives.

In the third entry of this "series," I cited a story about Ze'ev Jabotinsky and Arthur Koestler told to me by Jacob Dienstag, librarian emeritus of the Mendel Gottesman Library at Yeshiva University.

Mr. Dienstag passed away this past weekend. They said he was 95, but I suspect he was older, as if that makes any difference!

There are several stories about Mr. Dienstag, some that he told me, that I would like to share, to praise him and make him better known.

First of all, the reader should know that Mr. Dienstag was an uncompromising Orthodox Jew, but he also had a broadness of heart and soul that are the sign of an "erlikher Yid."

During World War II he did his basic training at a base near Columbus, Ohio. Knowing that Abraham Joshua Heschel was "nearby" in Cincinnati (only some 90 miles or so), Mr. Dienstag went AWOL one Friday morning, hitched a ride to Cincinnati, planning to spend Shabbat there. He located Dr. Heschel, who not only invited him to spend Shabbat at his home, but even arranged for a ride for Mr. Dienstag back to his base. Mr. Dienstag said that the memory of their conversations lightened his heart when he thought back on them later, in the field, in Europe.

He was sent to Europe, where he volunteered to be a chaplain's assistant. In his case, the chaplain he was assigned to was Rabbi Max David Eichhorn (1906-1986), a Reform rabbi. Mr. Dienstag told me that at first he was not especially happy to be attached to a Reform rabbi, but it took only a short time for the two to become fast friends. Indeed, I remember one time when Rabbi Eichhorn visited the Library during the 1970s (when we were still on West 68th Street), and I mentioned to him that Mr. Dienstag was a frequent visitor to the Library. As Rabbi Eichhorn was going to be in New York a short time, it would not be possible for them to meet in person. So he telephoned Mr. Dienstag from my office, and from the joy in Rabbi Eichhorn's voice, I could tell what a wonderful reunion they were having.

Finally, a story from the field. One Friday night in France, in the summer of 1944, an older GI came to services and told Rabbi Eichhorn that it his father's first Jahrzeit. Of course eager to know the soldiers he was serving, Rabbi Eichhorn asked the man his name. He replied Albo. Mr. Dienstag asked if he were somehow related to the Spanish Jewish philosopher, Joseph Albo (1380-1444), author of Sefer Ha-Ikkarim. He man laughed and said he was the son of Ismar Elbogen (1874-1943) [noted Jewish historian], that he was an interpreter for the U.S. Army and that he had "modified" his German name, lest he be captured by the Germans and they find out who he was.

Simcha Kluger told me just today that when the administration of Yeshiva University closed the buildings in the evening and refused to keep them open so that Rabbi Soloveitchik could add lectures, Mr. Dienstag kept the library open and provided the venue.

Finally, Jacob Dienstag was not meshugga' le-davar ehad, but rather le-shney devarim: Jabotinsky, his mentor, and Maimonides. He was always researching Maimonides and compiling bibliographies. If one searches Jacob Dienstag in the Libraries' on-line catalog one will find thirteen entries, eleven of which are related to Maimonidean scholarship.

He was such a colorful and lively individual, and with his passing we lose yet another important link to our past. I consider myself most fortunate to have known him.

Yehi zikhro barukh.