The Jew Chapter one plus

Chapter One

Birth of a Jew

August 12, 1901

Kirishi, Russia

“Frieda, Frieda,” the girl yelled across the crowd.

Frieda turned even though she did not want to.  She was in conversation with Hymie Schwartz, a perspective customer, and did not want to be interrupted.  Business trumps everything.  But she had turned and recognized Aniela.  “What the hell does she want,” she thought.  She secretly hoped that no one recognized Aniela for she was employed by her cousin, Henrietta, who owned the whore house.  Frieda did not want everyone to know her business and that she was being sought by a member of a house of prostitution.  That was especially true to her potential customer Hymie to whom she wished to represent him in obtaining a prospective bride.  Frieda was a matchmaker and in the village of Kirishi. prospects were limited.

“Excuse me Hymie, I must see what this child wants, but let’s get together later to discuss prospects for you.”  Frieda said hastily to Hymie.  Hymie was a butcher and lost his wife six months prior.  He was a catch but with four children he had some drawbacks.  Also he was not the best looking man and at fifty-three he was no stallion.  He nodded and went back to shopping for some vegetables.

Frieda turned and signaled Aniela to come to her.  “Let’s go over there to the park and talk.”

“But, your cousin needs you now, an emergency!” Aniela sputtered quite out of breath.

“The park now,” Freida said firmly.  She did not need prying eyes or ears to know her business.  The fact that her cousin ran an upscale whore house sometimes was beneficial for her matchmaking business and sometimes not.

Once they crossed to the park, Frieda asked, “Okay, vus tzach?” (What is happening?)

“Your cousin said to come immediately and I am not to say another word.”

And with that both ladies quickly walked a half mile out of town to a two structured building on top of a hill on the outskirts of Kirishi.  The building was made of wood and although old was sturdy enough.  The building stood separated from other structures.  Its color was a worn red.  Inside the bottom floor was the parlor where the girls sat with prospective customers until they had made their choices.  Once the selection process was over with the girl and the man would go upstairs to a room for the specified half hour to an hour.  The décor of the parlor was made up of bright colors with splashes of red and pink.  A brown sofa and a few large chairs were the decorations.  In the back and behind a curtain was the kitchen.  Upstairs were six rooms.  Four on the left side where the most active and were the most frequented.  On the right was two rooms double sized for the better customers.  More space cost more.  The two rooms were assigned to the two best girls who had the most requests.

Frieda was totally out of breath by the time she got there.  At sixty- two she was on the zaftig (overweight) side and out of shape.  Widowed now for the past ten years and having no one else she became a matchmaker to put food on her plate and a roof over her head.   She wondered what her cousin wanted and she had the gut feeling it had nothing to do with matchmaking.  She had a bad feeling about being summoned.

Frieda entered the house and quickly up the stairs.  At the top of the stairs one of the girls was descending with a satisfied customer.  It was awkward to say the least.  The customer was a client of Frieda’s a year and a half ago.  Both of them shied away and did not exchange pleasantries.  Freida reached the top of the steps.  There in front of the back room on the right side stood Dvori, a regular at   Henrietta’s whore house.  She was white as a ghost and leaned against the door to hold her up.  She signaled Frieda to go into the room but said nothing.  Frieda proceeded into the room.  It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust for there was little light in the room.  Her cousin approached her, “We did everything we could but she lost too much blood.”  She moved to the side and Frieda could see that on a bed lay a young girl.  Her body was covered with a sheet but the blood was seeping through.  Then there was a baby cry and Frieda looked to the left and saw Anna, the other older whore, holding a just born in her arms.

Oy gevalt (oh my god), what has happened?  Frieda felt nausea in her throat.

Blanka came last night.  She was about to burst with child.  We tried to help but the baby was breeched and would not come out.  She was screaming and bleeding and … finally I had no choice there was no time to get help.  I cut open her stomach to remove the baby but she bleed so much.  At least the baby seems okay.

“When did she die?”

“A few hours ago.”

Frieda knew that the whore house was closed Friday night because the elders would not permit such sacrilegious actions on the holy night.  Then her mind clicked.  Blanka, she remembered her.

“Didn’t Blanka use to work for you?”

“She did a while back, remember you set her up with a match in Kirovsk, You remember you set up the transfer.”

Frieda had gotten her cousin involved in an exchange system with a counterpart in a town miles down the road near St. Petersburg, in the town of Kirovsk which is on the Neva River.    There was a matchmaker there who wanted to get unknown girls for prospective clients in the town.   They did not want a prostitute from their city because everyone would talk so Sisel would send them one of her girls from the whore house in Kirovsk and vice versa.  The matchmakers had only had four occasions to do so but it seemed to work out. That is till now.  The girl on the bed indicated something was wrong.  Very wrong.

Frieda remembered back to when that deal was made.  Her contact in Kirovsk needed a young girl for an older but wealthy man.  He had been recently widowed and wanted a wife.  Frieda did not meet him but from what Sisel had said this man was rather on the tough side.  He really needed a girl who he could show off to his contacts at the high level of the government (the duma).  He also wanted an extremely loose girl who would be into kinky sexual practices.  He certainly did not want kids as his age.  Frieda got the feeling from her contact that the girl should be willing to grant favors to this man’s higher ups.  Nothing was said but in the courts of politics favors and power are swayed with the intrigues of the players.  Blanca was chosen after she was given the facts.  She chose to go thinking that living in luxury would be better than the whore house.  Hell she was giving out anyway.  Better for silks and pearls and the chance for advancement was there.

Yet a little less than a year later and here she was dead on the bed.  She had been brought to the house in the middle of the night by a stable boy on the back of a cart with hay on it.  The stable boy left as soon as she was brought up stairs.

Frieda could see her cousin needed direction.  “First things first,” she stated.

She took Frieda out of the room and down to the kitchen where they sat down at the wood table.  “We have got to get rid of the body.” she said mater of factually.  “Then we have to decide what to do with the baby.”

“Blanka made me promise her before she died that I was not to kill the kid. I promised her I would not let that happen.”

Frieda nodded.  She was not into killing and the thought of killing a baby was not in her.  “We need to get Leon to help us,” she said after reflecting on the next step.

Leon lived in a small cottage near the whore house.  He was nearly sixty but strong like a mule. He did odd chores for the girls and they in turn paid him using their wares to get him to do jobs they would otherwise have to pay for.  He would keep his mouth shut.  That night after the patrons had left, he wrapped the body and buried it on top of the hill.  They covered up the grave and did not put a stone marker on it.  Inside the pit they also put all the sheets and bedding that had been soiled with the poor girl’s blood.  By this time the baby was getting hungry as it cried for nourishment.  Leon came up with an idea which was strange because Leon was a little on the slow side.  He killed a goat and removed its utter.  He scrapped it out and put a large slit at the end of one of its tits.  Then taking milk from a cow he poured it into the utter sac.  By this means the kid suckled and so it was satisfied.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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DNA test: fact or fiction

Well the results are in on my wife’s DNA test.  Mine will be following shortly.  It came as no shock that the results showed European Jew probably from the Ukraine.  We pretty well knew that.  I loved the fact that if I spent over two thousand dollars I could get a primary researcher to delve into the past.  But to what avail or purpose.  Curiosity killed the cat and so I just say meow.  Anyway how do I know it is real.  Anyone can write anything and make it sound possible.  I probably am related to the Jew from the Merchant of Venice.  So what.

At seventy one it is pure curiosity and not much else.  I have bumped into some people and some were interesting.  Most are the common Joe and Jill.  Just living the life and going through smiles and frowns, ups and downs and occasionally winning and sometimes losing.

I did teaching over forty years in classrooms and am as smart as the average guy.  I take my car in for oil changes and rotate my tires once in a while.  A car mechanic I am not and it has cost me money.  Maybe I should have been one.  Maybe I should have learned a second language or learned to play the guitar.  But no, I guess I was to lazy.  Now I could but I blog instead and put together a puzzle or two and write the great novel which will never be published.

 

Fake news becomes real news if printed enough.

        Cuba had long been a Spanish colony and the revolutionary movement, which had been simmering on and off there for much of the 19th century, intensified during the 1890s. Many in the United States called upon Spain to withdraw from the island, and some even gave material support to the Cuban revolutionaries. Hearst and Pulitzer devoted more and more attention to the Cuban struggle for independence, at times accentuating the harshness of Spanish rule or the nobility of the revolutionaries, and occasionally printing rousing stories that proved to be false. This sort of coverage, complete with bold headlines and creative drawings of events, sold a lot of papers for both publishers.

The peak of yellow journalism, in terms of both intensity and influence, came in early 1898, when a U.S. battleship, the Maine, sunk in Havana harbor. The naval vessel had been sent there not long before in a display of U.S. power and, in conjunction with the planned visit of a Spanish ship to New York, an effort to defuse growing tensions between the United States and Spain. On the night of February 15, an explosion tore through the ship’s hull, and the Maine went down. Sober observers and an initial report by the colonial government of Cuba concluded that the explosion had occurred on board, but Hearst and Pulitzer, who had for several years been selling papers by fanning anti-Spanish public opinion in the United States, published rumors of plots to sink the ship. When a U.S. naval investigation later stated that the explosion had come from a mine in the harbor, the proponents of yellow journalism seized upon it and called for war. By early May, the Spanish-American War had begun.

Image result for a picture of the sinking of the maine in a newspaper

Liars lie and people get easily duped.  The press sometimes is slanted and sometimes does not investigate what they write.  This is the danger.  But to shut down the press, one of the fundamental freedoms we have, would be dangerous.  We invaded a country under the premise that they had weapons of mass destruction.  And did the press fall in line and push the agenda.  Boy did they buy into that one.  Sold papers and gave them a rally point on television.  Is yellow journalism still around?  Yes, just changed the name to Fake News.

Stepin Fetchit: a Black Man in transition

It is hard to watch but there is a movie on youtube called Charlie Chan in Egypt.  In the movie is StepNfetchit.  A terrible portrait of a Black Man in the movie.  Today one winces on watching it.  And yet this actor became a millionaire for a short period of time.Then from riches to rags.  It is a sad tale to be true and yet it happened.  Hollywood is a hard place where people go to hell over a life time.

 

Mini Bio (1)

Stepin Fetchit remains one of the most controversial movie actors in American history. While he was undoubtedly one of the most talented physical comedians ever to do his shtick on the Big Screen, achieving the rare status of being a character actor/supporting player who actually achieved superstar status in the 1930s (becoming a millionaire to boot), his characterization as a lazy, slow-witted, jive-talkin’ “coon” offended African-Americans at the time he was a major attraction in motion pictures (primarily the 1930s) and still offends African-Americans in the 21st century, more than 50 years after he had faded from the screen. Yet some African-Americans claim him as the first black superstar, and thus a trailblazer for others of his “race.” The controversy over Stepin Fetchit remains alive to this day, with two biographies published about him in 2005.

Stepin Fetchit was the stage name of Lincoln Theodore Monroe Andrew Perry, who claimed a birth date of May 30, 1902, but he may have been born as early as 1892. Perry was born in Key West, Florida, to West Indian immigrant parents. Sometime in his teens Perry became a comic performer. A literate and very intelligent man who wrote for the premier African-American newspaper, “The Chicago Defender,” Perry evolved a character called “The Laziest Man In the World” as part of a two-man vaudeville act that broke through to play the white circuits. Eventually, he went solo (“Stepin Fetchit” likely was the original name of the act covering both performers, as “Step ‘n Fetchit.” As a solo, he kept the name).

While some believe that his stage name is a contraction of “step and fetch it”, implying a servile persona (the so-called “Tom”) that is synonymous with degrading racial stereotypes in popular entertainment in the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century, Perry claimed he got the name from a race horse. However, it’s important to make the distinction that African-American cultural historians do (while at no time condoning Perry’s career) – rather than a servile Tom (named after Harriet Beecher Stowe‘s “Uncle Tom”), Stepin Fetchit was an evolution of a later construction, the “coon” who undermined his white oppressors by denying his labor and cooperation through an act of defiance that included the appearance of being lazy and stupid. Essential to the “coon” persona was talking in what to white ears is gibberish (which Perry excelled at), but which to black folk can be understood and contains barbed insults to “The Man.” What rankles so badly (since the Coon remains a stereotype that resonates in African-American culture) is that white audiences swallowed Perry’s Stepin Fetchit act whole, as a true representation of a “Negro.”

The “Coon” persona mitigated the low status accorded African-Americans by whites by feigning near-idiocy in order to frustrate whites by ironically fulfilling their low expectations (the “Tom,” by contrast, is praised by whites for his good work and loyalty. A parallel racial caricaturization of black men by whites, the “buck,” is the repository of their racial and sexual fears, and still can be seen in blaxploitation movies of the 1970s and, more recently, in the “gangsta” rapper). Perry used this mitigation stratagem when dealing with whites in real life, allegedly maintaining a coon persona while auditioning for a role in _In Old Kentucky (1938)_, where he stayed in the Stepin Fetchit character before and after the audition. Often, while making movies in which he found the lines offensive, Perry would skip or mumble lines he did not like, pretending to be too stupid to comprehend the script.

The “Coon” stereotype existed long before Perry decided to adopt it (its prevalence as a defiance stratagem intensified after the gains that African-Americans had made in the post-Civil War Reconstruction Era were rolled back by segregationist Jim Crow laws, when an “uppity” African-American could well wind up hanging from a tree at the end of a rope). However, he was such a hit with white audiences that his Stepin Fetchit persona popularized the “Coon” image to an unprecedented degree in the medium of film, and many stereotypical black movie characters, including the child Stymie in the “Our Gang” comedy series, were based upon Stepin Fetchit to cash in on his popularity.

Perry reached the apex of his career co-starring with Will Rogers in several films, including John Fords Steamboat Round the Bend (1935). When viewed objectively today (without revulsion), Perry’s Stepin Fetchit character can be seen as more than holding his own with the great Rogers, achieving some kind of inverse parity with his white “massa” through the sheer forcefulness of his personality. Rogers clearly is fond of Perry (if not Stepin Fetchit), although he is liable to denigrate the Stepin Fetchit character unmercifully. In a way, it provides a window on race relations in that Southern and other white Americans could experience fondness for black folk, but would “put them in their place” at any time, for any reason.

Stepin Fetchit became the first African-American actor to become a millionaire, but he mishandled his fortune through lavish overspending and was bankrupt by 1947. In the 1940s his career in mainstream “white” cinema was essentially over, and he crossed over into “race” films, movies made specifically for (and sometimes by) African-Americans, where he essentially played the same shtick. By 1960 he was a charity case in Chicago.

Perry had been denounced by the same civil rights leaders that eventually forced CBS to mothball the popular TV series The Amos ‘n Andy Show (1951), as they didn’t want any stereotypes pandering to the inherent racism of whites while they were trying to obtain equality. Cast out and an exile in the 1960s, Perry was rehabilitated by heavyweight champion Cassius Clay–the symbol of African-American racial pride who had become Muhammad Ali–making him one of his entourage after Perry allegedly showed him a punch that Ali successfully used during a fight. Following Ali’s example, Perry converted to the ‘Honorable Elijiah Muhammad”s Lost-Found Nation of Islam (the so-called “Black Muslims”). He was saved.

Some nonsense for the afternoon

Dimes make no sense, okay ten cents, but to make them makes no sense or nonsense because they cost almost as much to make them as they are worth.

Pennies are not from heaven, they are not worth a plug nickel, nor does it make cents to manufacture them.

Get rid of them and add the nickel and maybe even the quarter.

Everything is a dollar and round it up like cattle on a cattle drive.

A dollar of gas is real.  A gallon of gas should not be two dollars and fifty cents and ninety -nine percentage on a dollar.  It is ludicrous just like the singer.

Does fifty cents have a half- brother.  The other fifty cents.

Who does Cher share with now that her days are no longer Sunny.

Can Jack Sprat who eats no fat go to MacDonald’s where everything is fat oriented.

Are oriental people unhappy with the concept of being from the Orient.  Do Thai people eat out at Chinese Restaurants or they strictly go to Thai Eateries?

Do people named Marshall do martial arts?

Did Miss Kitty ever marry Matt and did she own Kitties?

Can a bitch be in heat in the winter?

How slow was the turtle?  Did he con the hair off the hare?

How do they get the glutten out of stuff?  What is worth a pound of glutten or a pound of fat?

Robert Wadlow

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Wadlow was a quiet and mild-mannered young man, which led to him be called a “gentle giant.” He enjoyed photography and playing guitar — until his hands grew too large to do either.

A hyperactive pituitary gland fueled his extraordinary growth.

Wadlow broke the record for world’s tallest man when he reached 8 feet, 4 inches in 1937.

After graduating high school, Robert went on tour with the Ringling Brothers Circus, and later crisscrossed the country to promote the International Shoe Company, which graciously provided Robert’s size 37AA footwear.

Wadlow suffered from weakness and lack of sensation in his legs and feet, and as he grew he required leg braces and a cane to walk.

In 1940, a faulty brace rubbing against his ankle caused a blister, which became badly infected. On July 15, 1940, Robert passed away at the age of 22. Eighteen days earlier, doctors had measured his height at 8 feet, 11.1 inches.

Robert’s body was returned to his hometown and buried in a 1,000-pound casket which was carried by a dozen pallbearers and eight assistants. A life-sized bronze statue honoring him still stands in Alton.