| Len's uncle
Working for Manischewitz
Today is May the 28th in 1987. I was recording last time about my working in the chewing gum factory. I believe I mentioned also that I worked also there in tobacco division of the very same man who owned the chewing gum factory, cleaning the leaves, the tobacco leaves where they were making cigars. But I forgot to mention my one day’s work in the Manischewitz matzah factory.
When I arrived in Cincinnati, the Manischewitz had the matzah factory only in Cincinnati. Now they are known all over the country, and they sell many products besides matzah. In those days, they sold only matzah.
I want to mention here that the Manischewitz were very, very active in politics. They were very closely associated with the police. I recall when other companies came to Cincinnati, and they wanted to sell matzah there before Passover, they were chased out of the city.
I know of a gentleman who came there to sell matzah. He represented Horowitz-Margareten. It’s a matzah firm in New York, and the police asked
[a long interval of blank tape]
I believe I mentioned talking about a salesman at Horowitz-Margareten matzah from New York that wanted to come and open an office and sell matzah in Cincinnati and its environs, and he was escorted by the police to the train and sent out of Cincinnati.
I met that.. The name of the gentleman was Eisner. I happened to meet him in Omaha, Nebraska. He called me up, he called up our house and he came to see us. He had dinner with us. He was still working for the matzah factory. He had aged a good deal. He was an elderly man. He told me he wasn’t feeling too well. He was a good deal older than myself when he visited in Cincinnati. But he looked me up on Omaha. Somebody told him that I lived in Omaha.
Well anyway, this is not of great importance. I merely wanted also to mention that I worked for the Manischewitz matzah factory. There was a rumor in Cincinnati. People were talking of them mistreating the working men, working them long hours. It has to be mentioned here, that I know it from reliable sources, from people who worked there, because I myself worked there one day, not quite a whole day, that Manischewitz worked their people between 12 and 14 hours a day, and they were not paying them over $7 a week in those days.
A man from my home town was a very observant Jew, a very religious person, and very ordinary person. He was a butcher in my home town. And he came to see me. He told me when he came to Cincinnati, he told me that he was working for the Manischewitz. And he told me that he was offered by a junk yard $25 a week, and he was getting only seven. But in that junk yard he had to work also on the Sabbath, on Saturday. He turned it down. This is the way the Manischewitz made a use of the very religious people.
The day that I worked for Manischewitz a terrible thing happened by the machine. The Manischewitz didn’t have guards on the machines, guards so that a man working by the machine couldn’t lose a finger or a whole arm. They got away from [sic] it somehow, and they were not forced by the police to put on the guards. After this incident that happened there when I worked there, guards were put on the machines, so people’s hands wouldn’t be swallowed.
Now, there was a young man who worked there at the same time. I’ll never forget him. His name was Krick. He was a brother of one of my friends in Cincinnati, Aliko [?] Krick, who lived really in Newport, Kentucky, on the pike. And he was working the machine. All of a sudden, I heard a terrible noise, and people were running. His hand was being peeled, the flesh, up to his arm before the machine was stopped. He lost his arm, later on. He was taken to the hospital.
Well, as I was working there, looking around, and working, Herschel Manischewitz walked up to me. He was the, what shall I call it? The Manischewitz had to have a symbol of religiosity, of observance. So, this Herschel Manischewitz, he had smicha, but he didn’t practice the rabbinate. He must have been a young man at that time. He was probably about 30 or 32 years old, maybe 35, and he was at the office. If somebody walks into the office, he finds a gentleman with a little beard growing, and in a silk robe, depicting a religious person with a nice skullcap, and he would receive the people showing that the factory is observing all Jewish laws to the last point.
Well, he was going around inspecting the people, seeing their work, and he walked up to me. He walked up, and he took aback [sic], as if he was frightened to death. He says, “What are you doing here?”
I said, “don’t you see what I am doing? I am working.”
He said, “What do you mean, you are working? You don’t have to work here. You are teaching at the Talmud Torah. You don’t have to work here.” Well, I had seen him at several Zionist meetings that I attended, and he knew who I was, because I stood up at the meetings once in a while, and I would ask a question, I would make a remark, and so on, so he knew me.
He said, “You cannot work here anymore. Stop it right here. You will get paid for a day.” He says, “I know why you came in here. You just came in as a spy. You wanted to see what things are like in here.”
“Yes, exactly,” I said, “you’re exactly right. And things are pretty rotten here. I want you to know it. You are underpaying your people, you’re driving them just as if they were slaves. You are very benevolent. You are charitable people. You announce in the papers that you give a thousand dollars to the Federation, tow thousand dollars.”
And I said, “Whose money were you giving? It’s the blood of these people.” Well, anyway, I left. Of course, I didn’t even finish the day. He wouldn’t let me finish the day. This was my experience at Manischewitz.
And I recall the people, some of the working men, the former past working men. Before Pesach, a month or six weeks before Pesach, they would distribute leaflets, and the leaflets were printed with red ink. And I saw once a leaflet saying, “Ess nisht die blutike matzas.” Don’t eat the bloody matzahs.
Somehow, from that time on a certain, what shall I say, distaste developed in me for Manischewitz matzas. And to this day, somehow, I don’t know, I am a little prejudiced, even though it no longer belongs to Manischewitz, they sold out about 35-40 years ago, and it belongs, I believe, to a non-Jewish company, but they still have descendants of the Manischewitz at the office working there.
Unfortunately, this gentleman, Hirshel Manischewitz, whom I mentioned before, died many years ago on Yom Kippur. While standing at the synagogue and praying, he fell and he died.
I was told many things about the Manischewitz boys, whom their father sent to Israel to study. The father was a very religious man, and I think was a fanatic to a great extent, not that he was a man who had read or knew a great deal. But he sent them there, and a friend of mine in the olden days, who became a bibliographer in the Hebrew literature, and known all over, praised very, very highly everywhere. I noticed in the papers that he died about 8 years ago, or so. His name was Malachi.
And he told me that he attended school with the Manischewitz boys in Jerusalem. Well, he told me quite a number of stories about them, but I am not going to repeat them.
Today is May the 28th in 1987. I was recording last time about my working in the chewing gum factory. I believe I mentioned also that I worked also there in tobacco division of the very same man who owned the chewing gum factory, cleaning the leaves, the tobacco leaves where they were making cigars. But I forgot to mention my one day’s work in the Manischewitz matzah factory.
When I arrived in Cincinnati, the Manischewitz had the matzah factory only in Cincinnati. Now they are known all over the country, and they sell many products besides matzah. In those days, they sold only matzah.
I want to mention here that the Manischewitz were very, very active in politics. They were very closely associated with the police. I recall when other companies came to Cincinnati, and they wanted to sell matzah there before Passover, they were chased out of the city.
I know of a gentleman who came there to sell matzah. He represented Horowitz-Margareten. It’s a matzah firm in New York, and the police asked
[a long interval of blank tape]
I believe I mentioned talking about a salesman at Horowitz-Margareten matzah from New York that wanted to come and open an office and sell matzah in Cincinnati and its environs, and he was escorted by the police to the train and sent out of Cincinnati.
I met that.. The name of the gentleman was Eisner. I happened to meet him in Omaha, Nebraska. He called me up, he called up our house and he came to see us. He had dinner with us. He was still working for the matzah factory. He had aged a good deal. He was an elderly man. He told me he wasn’t feeling too well. He was a good deal older than myself when he visited in Cincinnati. But he looked me up on Omaha. Somebody told him that I lived in Omaha.
Well anyway, this is not of great importance. I merely wanted also to mention that I worked for the Manischewitz matzah factory. There was a rumor in Cincinnati. People were talking of them mistreating the working men, working them long hours. It has to be mentioned here, that I know it from reliable sources, from people who worked there, because I myself worked there one day, not quite a whole day, that Manischewitz worked their people between 12 and 14 hours a day, and they were not paying them over $7 a week in those days.
A man from my home town was a very observant Jew, a very religious person, and very ordinary person. He was a butcher in my home town. And he came to see me. He told me when he came to Cincinnati, he told me that he was working for the Manischewitz. And he told me that he was offered by a junk yard $25 a week, and he was getting only seven. But in that junk yard he had to work also on the Sabbath, on Saturday. He turned it down. This is the way the Manischewitz made a use of the very religious people.
The day that I worked for Manischewitz a terrible thing happened by the machine. The Manischewitz didn’t have guards on the machines, guards so that a man working by the machine couldn’t lose a finger or a whole arm. They got away from [sic] it somehow, and they were not forced by the police to put on the guards. After this incident that happened there when I worked there, guards were put on the machines, so people’s hands wouldn’t be swallowed.
Now, there was a young man who worked there at the same time. I’ll never forget him. His name was Krick. He was a brother of one of my friends in Cincinnati, Aliko [?] Krick, who lived really in Newport, Kentucky, on the pike. And he was working the machine. All of a sudden, I heard a terrible noise, and people were running. His hand was being peeled, the flesh, up to his arm before the machine was stopped. He lost his arm, later on. He was taken to the hospital.
Well, as I was working there, looking around, and working, Herschel Manischewitz walked up to me. He was the, what shall I call it? The Manischewitz had to have a symbol of religiosity, of observance. So, this Herschel Manischewitz, he had smicha, but he didn’t practice the rabbinate. He must have been a young man at that time. He was probably about 30 or 32 years old, maybe 35, and he was at the office. If somebody walks into the office, he finds a gentleman with a little beard growing, and in a silk robe, depicting a religious person with a nice skullcap, and he would receive the people showing that the factory is observing all Jewish laws to the last point.
Well, he was going around inspecting the people, seeing their work, and he walked up to me. He walked up, and he took aback [sic], as if he was frightened to death. He says, “What are you doing here?”
I said, “don’t you see what I am doing? I am working.”
He said, “What do you mean, you are working? You don’t have to work here. You are teaching at the Talmud Torah. You don’t have to work here.” Well, I had seen him at several Zionist meetings that I attended, and he knew who I was, because I stood up at the meetings once in a while, and I would ask a question, I would make a remark, and so on, so he knew me.
He said, “You cannot work here anymore. Stop it right here. You will get paid for a day.” He says, “I know why you came in here. You just came in as a spy. You wanted to see what things are like in here.”
“Yes, exactly,” I said, “you’re exactly right. And things are pretty rotten here. I want you to know it. You are underpaying your people, you’re driving them just as if they were slaves. You are very benevolent. You are charitable people. You announce in the papers that you give a thousand dollars to the Federation, tow thousand dollars.”
And I said, “Whose money were you giving? It’s the blood of these people.” Well, anyway, I left. Of course, I didn’t even finish the day. He wouldn’t let me finish the day. This was my experience at Manischewitz.
And I recall the people, some of the working men, the former past working men. Before Pesach, a month or six weeks before Pesach, they would distribute leaflets, and the leaflets were printed with red ink. And I saw once a leaflet saying, “Ess nisht die blutike matzas.” Don’t eat the bloody matzahs.
Somehow, from that time on a certain, what shall I say, distaste developed in me for Manischewitz matzas. And to this day, somehow, I don’t know, I am a little prejudiced, even though it no longer belongs to Manischewitz, they sold out about 35-40 years ago, and it belongs, I believe, to a non-Jewish company, but they still have descendants of the Manischewitz at the office working there.
Unfortunately, this gentleman, Hirshel Manischewitz, whom I mentioned before, died many years ago on Yom Kippur. While standing at the synagogue and praying, he fell and he died.
I was told many things about the Manischewitz boys, whom their father sent to Israel to study. The father was a very religious man, and I think was a fanatic to a great extent, not that he was a man who had read or knew a great deal. But he sent them there, and a friend of mine in the olden days, who became a bibliographer in the Hebrew literature, and known all over, praised very, very highly everywhere. I noticed in the papers that he died about 8 years ago, or so. His name was Malachi.
And he told me that he attended school with the Manischewitz boys in Jerusalem. Well, he told me quite a number of stories about them, but I am not going to repeat them.
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