that had its origin in the seventeenth century and was an association of craftsmen who were stonemasons.
Freemason lodges spread, and their doctrine allowed for the admission of anyone, regardless of religious belief. They declared religious tolerance as their byword, and Jews could become members even though there was considerable Christian content in their constitution. There were Freemason groups that allowed Jews and there were groups that did not. All religious groups viewed with suspicion these all-encompassing efforts to unify man. None of this mattered as the Freemasons were being cast into the paranoid net, and it wasn’t long before the world conspiracy for control was called a Jewish and Freemason plot.
Pamphlets appeared in Russia blaming the countries ills on the Jews, suggesting that the Jews had formed an alliance to destroy the Russian nation. Therefore, whenever anyone saw one of these Christ betrayers, he could kill the Jew.
In this poisonous atmosphere, and with the suspicions aroused by the childhood knifing and the suicide of the young Christian girl, the Russian peasants struck all over the country. In 1903, pogroms started in many towns including Kishinev, which suffered one of the severest attacks. Forty-five Jews lost their lives and hundreds suffered wounds. Hundreds of homes, shops, and businesses looted, left many Jews homeless. Moritz, horrified at what was taking place, took action and was responsible for organizing a small cadre of Jews to defend themselves. They fought back with fists, clubs and stones, but their effort suffered from lack of numbers and insufficient training. In some instances they turned back the looters, but they made little impact on the overall pogrom. Two of them died in the attempt.
There were 5,000 Russian soldiers stationed in Kishinev at the time; and they could have disrupted the attacks at their origins, but they did not attempt to do so.
These events did not go unnoticed in the outside world, where protest meetings were organized. President Theodore Roosevelt sent a letter of concern to the Czar. He refused to accept it. Even in Russia, there was protest. This caused the government to make a half-hearted effort to bring the perpetrators to justice, but sentences were meted out that were very lenient in relation to the death and destruction caused, so the pogroms continued.
For three years, a wave of violence swept Russia. Its targets were Jews, who died in ever-increasing numbers.
After the first pogrom in Kishinev in 1903, all the members of the family got together in Doctor Kalish’s house. There was Moritz and his wife and their son Samuel, who was now eighteen years old. Moritz’s cousin and his family and Doctor Kalish and his wife were there.
Doctor Kalish started the discussion. His face was serious and grim. His dark brown eyes lacked luster. He knew danger and was used to working under pressure, and he spoke in the same firm, calm voice that he used when in the operating room.
“My career in Russia has been a good one, but the problems we are facing now outweigh the benefits of my staying. I’ve no choice but to leave Russia. The danger to our lives is too great. Yes, I’ve had a wonderful career, but that was coming to an end because I’m nearing the age of retirement, and my practice is decreasing. I’ve made up my mind to go to Germany where I speak the language and still have contacts in the medical profession. Also, my wonderful nephew Samuel who wants to be a doctor will have no opportunity in Russia. His German is excellent, so I appeal to you all, we should move to Germany, and we should do it as a family.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but how do we leave our business?” asked Moritz, turning to look at his business partner and cousin who was silent and listening to the discussion.
Doctor Kalish continued. “We should all leave. I’m not saying this has to be done tomorrow. I have many things to do at the hospital. My patients need to know so they can make arrangements with other physicians. You can sell your business, Moritz. It is successful and there will be many takers.”
“What do you say, Samuel?” asked Moritz of his son.
“I say I want to do what you want to do, but I want to be a doctor, and I know that my chance is low in Russia because there is a three percent quota of Jews that they will take in medical schools, so I have a clear choice: I would like to go to medical school in Germany,” said Samuel.
Moritz’s cousin said, “I and my family will leave Russia. Even though there is financial security here in Russia, I have no confidence it will last much longer. Now that our lives are threatened, I say we have to start over somewhere else. I’m thinking of the United States. I hear there is much opportunity there.”
“I’ve thought about the United States too, but we’ll go with our son to Germany,” said Moritz.”
“It’s settled then, we’ll sell the business,” said Moritz looking at his cousin. “I’ll take my family to Germany, and I’ll open up a garment business. You, cousin, can set up shop in the United States, and then we can merge. We’ll become an international force,” laughed Moritz. They all laughed together attempting to insert some humor into this serious life-changing decision.
Moritz wrote to his father and told him of his plans to leave. Jacob accepted his son’s decision, but wrote back and he told Moritz that in spite of the dangers he would stay in Russia and tend to his congregation. In addition, he wrote Moritz that he would visit him before he left to say farewell to the entire family—and deliver to him the Torah that passed to each generation.
Jacob arrived. It was a tearful farewell. Moritz accepted the Torah from his father. He looked at this old precious relic from his family and Judaism. “I will protect it and pass it on, father.”
By 1904, everyone had moved except Moritz. The remainder of his family settled matters in Russia and departed for New York. It remained for Moritz to tend to the loose ends of the sale of the business and to sell his house. Then he would join his family, but before his family left for the safety of Germany, he took his son, aside.
“Add this to your luggage, Sam.”
“What is that?” asked Sam.
“This is the Torah passed down from our fathers for six generations and written by your great-great-great-great grandfather whose signature is on the end of the scroll, as are all our signatures that possess this Torah. It is a symbol of our family. If you become a doctor, you will use it as a guide to ethical matters and never forget your Jewishness. Those are part of the instructions given to me, and I pass it on to you now to ensure its safety. There are too many fires and enemies here. You are a man now.”
The Czar’s stated intention was to get one third of the Jews to emigrate, one third to die, and one third exiled to a distant location. He was well on his way to this goal. Two million Jews had left: most to the United States, many to Western Europe, and some to the middle east.
In the meantime, conditions were only worsening for Jews in Russia. Revolutionary anti-Semitic movements sprung up, pressure against the Jews intensified and organizations evolved with the intended purpose of destroying the Jews before the “Israelite ravishers” established their own Czardom and destroyed Christian civilization.
This notion, fueled by such documents as the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, led to another wave of pogroms, throughout the country including Kishinev. Much of the world reeled in horror, but the Czar ignored the pressure. His tropps and Russian peasants looted and destroyed Jewish shops, they set synagogues set on fire and desecrated Torah scrolls. Fear and panic ruled the day.
Over fifty people were injured, and nineteen killed. This was
