The Synagogues of South Africa
Click on the word synagogue above for a virtual tour
The Great Synagogue, Gardens, Cape Town
The Gardens Shul has added a new 'Virtual Tour' feature on their website. There are 3
tours, one of the inside of the Shul, one by the Gardens entrance and
one by the Piazza. Check it out here:
http://www.gardensshul.org/index.php/about-us/our-campus
Tale of Two Shuls in Cape Town
By Ivor Kosowitz. : November, 2007
It was the best of times and the worst of times. This was South Africa in the 1950’s and 60’s.
Growing up in Cape Town was for the Jewish community, a Golden Age. For South Africa, the height of the Apartheid Era.
Yiddishkeit was all around us. It was like living in a shetl in Poland, in London, and Miami …… all at the same time.
Most Jewish families came from Latvia and Lithuania. My late dad was from Lomza in Poland, which had an important Yeshiva and was a centre of Jewish learning. However, Cape Town Jewry was founded by English Jews in the 1860’s. The main Shul was and still is, the Gardens Shul. This was based on the British services and liturgy. Many rabbis and cantors came from Britain. The choir was the best in the city. One of our most honoured rabbis, was Professor Israel Abrams.
Our summer holidays were spent at Muizenberg (Jewsenberg). Over Xmas, this seaside resort on the Indian Ocean, was invaded by many Jews from Jo’burg. We had Kosher hotels, and we had a “Snake Pit”. Probably, that is where the Scarbrough Beach Snake Pit got its name from! Alas both “pits” are no longer in existence.
You can imagine the scene – 100’s of Jewish families squashed into a triangular area of about one Km2, all eating Polony Rye bread sandwiches loaded with chicken shmaltz. A favourite cool drink was called “Canada Dry”. Vendors came onto the beach to sell chocolate covered ice cream popsicles as well as peanuts in little bags.
Most functions, weddings, Barmitzvahs etc were held at Rosecourt, or at the Zionist Hall. Later, the more modern Cranston Hall was preferred. Cy Sacks and his band entertained us all with songs of the day as well as klezmer.
We also had one of the best Jewish-Zionist schools in the world, Herzlia. The headmaster was Meir Katz who did so much for Jewish Education. As well, there were all the Youth Movements – Habonim, Bnei, Betar, Hashomer Hatzir.
So with all this, situated in the city bowl, were 2 shuls – The Vredehoek Shul, and the Round Shul also known as the Schoonder Street Shul. So this is the tale ………………
Both were founded by Lithuanian Jewry, initially in an area known as District Six. This is similar to North Perth, close to the city. With time, Jewish families moved further up the slopes of Table Mountain, and lived around these shules in roads such as Mill Street, and Maynard Street. District Six became the area were the Cape Coloureds subsequently lived until the Apartheid government rezoned this area, and forced hundreds of families out as part of the “Group Areas” Act.
The Vredehoek Shul was built in the 1930’s. It had an innovative Succah-Hall as the roof could be wound open during Succot. In my time the rabbi was Rabbi Marcus and the Chazan was Cantor Lichterman, a holocaust survivor.
The Round shul was built in the early 1950’s. It was a very modern design, and was completely round. The Chazan there was Simcha Koussevitsky, one of the three famous brothers. This is the shul we belonged to. In time, I joined the choir there, and sang with our famous cantor for 10 years. I counted recently, and about seven of us from that choir live in Australia, three of us sing in Noranda Shule! One of the rabbis there in my time was Rabbi Dushinsky.
The funny thing was that one of my best friends was Joel Lichterman, the son of the Cantor. In fact his dad taught me my barmitvah, and we ended up having my barmy in the Vredehoek shule. My mother’s family were members there. Cantor Litchterman used to dig his elbow into your ribs, and exclaim the word “Grobakop” if you sang the wrong trop! Joel is now Cantor in a Shule in Denver, USA, with Selwyn Franklin as Rabbi.
In the late 60’s and early 70’s, the shuls amalgamated but that did not last long. So for a while, we sang in a mega choir, one Shabbat at one shul, and the next at the other. When we were little, we would get our box of chocolates on Simchat Torah, from the Round Shul, and run as fast as we could to Vredehoek Shul. Once there we slipped a side door to join the line to get our slab of chocolate. The box from the Round Shul was carefully packed into our tallis bags!
1976 Saw the start of the decline and exodus of South African Jewry. In time the Vredehoek Shul was sold. It still stands today, painted purple. It houses an antique furniture shop.
Only about 4 years ago, the Round Shul was sadly demolished to make way for a Town House complex.
Nearby, in Maynard Street, was a small shtbel known as the Ponavitch Shul. This was the shule we did not go to.
Herzlia School has thrived with about 90% of Cape Town’s Jewish youth being educated there today. There still is another Shul, known as the Sea Point or Marais Road Shul. At its peak, this was one of the largest communities in the world. In fact, the road we later lived in, London Road, had one of the highest Jewish population in any one street, in the world. Arieh Rand was cantor at this shule, before coming to Perth.
At Pesach time, many of us kids went to shul, mainly because our parents said we had to. Once there I doubt that many of us actually went inside. So the big event, outside of course, was to play “marbles” with hazel and walnuts. Who said we were supposed to eat them! The walnuts were the “goonies” and the hazel nuts were the “marbles”. I recall that this was really big at the Vredehoek Shul as it had an enclosed courtyard at the front.
Succot was another special Chag. A large curved succah was built at the back of the “Round” Shul. After every service, large trays of delicious sponge cake was brought out. You could have wine and salty herring in addition to the cake. Some of us kids thought the cake was great, so we stuffed our tallis bags full of the stuff, to take home!
As we became barmitvah, we were invited to attend Gemorah classes after service on Shabbat mornings. The teacher was a Mr. Kooperman. As he mainly spoke Yiddish, and as the Gemorah is mainly in Aramaic and Hebrew, we kids never actually learned much. However we were introduced to “Bob”. No not a person, but a Jewish dish made from broad beans.
Other mainly delicious foods which we grew up with were Taigelach, Imberlach, Pretzelah, Petcha (made from calf’s hooves), Perogen, Kreplach, Henzel, Herring and Chopped Herring, Chopped Liver, Gefilte Fish, Kneidelach – boiled and baked, Bagels, Babkes, Bulkas, Hammantashen and Kichel. Some of these we still enjoy today. Only in South Africa, Challah is called Kitke. No one seems to know the origin and why this unique to SA.
Many maid servants became Kosher Cooking experts, and this was very desirable if they wanted to work in a Jewish home.
The Saturday night Slichot Service was the highlight of the year especially if you were in the choir. We arrived at about 8pm. A 16mm black and white movie was shown, usually a B-rate western “flick”. We had to hire a projector in those days, and the movie was on large reels of celluloid. After that, a large spread was put on for us by the Ladies Guild.
As Shlichot is at midnight it was an effort to keep the sopranos (boys under 12) awake, and in any event they were tanked up with sugar so it was extremely difficult for the choir master, Jeff Koussevitsky, to keep them under control.
One Slichot service, my friend and I smuggled a cassette tape recorder into shul and put it under the bimah. This way we recorded the service which was full of amazing choral pieces. My friend, in Sydney, and I still have this recording today, about 43 years later. So the only two copies in existence, are in Australia!
When Rosh Hashana came around, the shuls were full to overflowing with standing room only. I remember that every year, the Shamash, Mr Rivkin, blew the Shofar. Except for once, when our Rabbi decided to try. Well, he should have thought otherwise.
He could not get one note out properly. We, in the choir loft, above him could not contain ourselves, and just cracked up laughing ….. actually rolling on the floor! What an embarrassment.
The choir was great, not the best though. The best choir was at the Gardens Shul.
We had the best chazzan, Cantor Simcha Koussevitzky. Anyway, we used to get paid for rehearsals and services. Two long serving tenors were Jackie Shwartz and Les Wexler. Mr. Herrison sang bass.
One person I almost forgot to mention, was Cantor Immerman also known as the “Blind Chazan”. He held the position of Chazan Sheini. Sadly, he was blind from a very early age but had an incredible gift. He was able to retain the whole Torah and Siddur in his memory. He also taught many their barmitzvah portions, and could tell your name just by listening to your voice. He truly had a long life having lived to the age of about 95.
It was interesting that in the 50’s, the “Gabbis” all wore top hats. This was a “hangover” from the English roots of Cape Town Jewry. Apparently, such hats are still worn in some of London’s oldest shuls, even today.
Those were the wonderful days that we were privileged to have experienced.
A Litwak at the Cape and further
An autobiography by Haim Pogrund (Israel)
The following paragraphs are from "A Litwak at the Cape, and Further" - an autobiography by Haim Pogrund, Israel.
We considered ourselves to be Orthodox Jews by all prevailing standards in the South African tradition. By definition in those days, this included keeping kosher at home, having separate utensils for the Passover, lighting the candles on Friday evenings, and going to the synagogue on the major festivals, and for my folks, Yahrzeit for their parents, of course. An occasional kiddush on Erev Shabbat and on festival eves completed the process. There were no kippot or ritual fringes to be seen, nor was there much superfluous hair except amongst the older generation.
We were members of the Vredehoek congregation or Beit HaMidrash Hachadash the successor to the old Constitution Street Shul, and the family had its fixed pews, with my father and Uncle Kalman seated next to each other while my cousin Alec sat behind them in the back row. I usually took pot luck on available seats until my Barmitzvah. We sat at the side and facing the Bimah, and of course also opposite our women who were upstairs in the gallery dressed in their finery and perfumed to the hilt. The services were fully choral on the festivals and shabbatot and we sang the great traditional Litwishe "nigunim" with feeling.
The U'n'taneh Tokef on Yom Kippur would wring the tears from the ladies in the gallery, and the sobs together with the nose blowing into cologne impregnated handkerchiefs led by old Mrs. Kasimov, Mahzor pressed to her short sighted eyes, amongst others, added to the gravity of the day.
Hazzanim included Inspector, and Rudy over the years, with Lichterman holding the position for the greatest period. Lichterman, a small man, and a later acquisition, was a little prima donna -ish, and God help anybody who opened a window on a stifling Yom Kippur day to try to raise the oxygen level a fraction. He would stop singing, wrap his prayer shawl around his neck and mouth, and throw a malevolent look in the direction of the offending window and perpetrator. This was immediately banged closed by a 'Kammite Member' who was posted among the ladies, and the show would go on.
The Hazzan Sheini or "Ba'al Tefilah" was the magnificent Rev. Rabinowitz who for countless years sang perfectly in a voice resembling the sound made by humming on tissue paper over a comb. He read the torah without error or blemish and was totally unaffected by the surrounding "tummel." He was known as a "feine Yid" and was also the official "Shofar Blozzer", with the sounds undoubtedly reaching to the heavens on the Days of Awe.
The late and venerated Chaim Mirvish was the spiritual leader of the congregation at the time, and a more respected Jew was hard to find. Uninvolved in the political intrigues and petty rows of the Shul "Kammite", he set the example for sincerity and integrity coupled with wisdom. They do not come like that any more.
The elders in the shul including Messrs. Koppel Sacks, Glick, Melamed, Sher and so on, would sit along the Eastern wall covered by their extensive "taleisim" and "shokkeling" like the best of them, other than for the occasions when they would make their way to the toilets to relieve their continually irritating prostatism.
Dear God! What a rumpus was created if a mistake was made in the "trop" or in the text which was being read. Desks were banged, and voices were raised in cacophany until the correction was made. Simhat Torah and Purim were the two occasions when these people came into their own. On the former, tables were loaded with chopped, and pickled herring and Kichlach a la Lita, and "teiglach" made by the women's committee, while the 'Shnapps' flowed and conviviality reigned. It was a rollicking party and gave a boost to the Hakkafot or merriment with the completion of the reading of the law and starting it afresh. The team was completed by Mr. Ritz the shammash who had been one of my surgical bootmakers, but had given it up as it were, "to take the cloth"!
The day of Atonement presented the opportunity for us to tour the surrounding Synagogues, visit the museum and art gallery in the Gardens, and just sit under the oaks watching the passing show. In addition, one could take in the "talent" in the other Shuls. Of course , the Gardens Shul usually had the best choir, and was a social cut above the rest of the communities, at least as far as the external trappings of the members were concerned. The president, and executive wore top hats and morning suits and old man Rabie and his cronies looked as incongruous as could be, and not exactly fitting the old axiom "fine feathers make fine birds." Our committee at the Vredehoek synagogue, I am afraid, could only manage Homburgs, but even here Traub and company were definitely no improvement sartorially, on Rabie and company.
The one thing however that never palled or galled was the magnificence of the Gardens Shul itself. It had an awesomeness, both inside and out, which I have yet to find in another relatively modern place of worship of any denomination in any place. The choir and Boris Rome added their efforts to the dignity of the prayers. No wonder it was called "der Englischer Shul" by my parents' generation.
Rabbi Israel Abrahams, in his pillbox papal headgear, fine, round, horn-rimmed spectacles, and goatee would deliver his regular sermon in his impeccable English, and cast an occasional glance at his prim and pince-nez'd lady in an upper front corner of the "Ezrat Nashim" which was our cue for a hasty departure!
The shammash here happened to be a Mr. Gordon, who was a true - blue "landsman" of my father from Abel as was Mr. Kuperman, a member of the Gardens Synagogue and a private Hebrew teacher for those who could afford it, so that we always managed to find a temporary seat with the former's help.
Overflow, on the high festivals spilled over into the "Old Shul" next door, the first Synagogue building in South Africa, and again, the atmosphere here could only be described as inspiring. A tour of the National Art Gallery including the Meyerowitz carved doors, and the South African Museum to see the beautiful waxwork figures of local Bushman tribesmen, completed our visit to the Gardens, and on we would go to the Roeland Street Shul, of which a water colour by Leng Dixon, hangs just above and facing me on the wall while I write.
Kirzner was the spiritual leader here, and I remember him with clarity. He left just after the war, and the congregation transferred to "the Opera House" or the " Round Shul" in Schoonder Street, after most of the Jewish residents had departed the district for a more sumptuous lifestyle. One of the famous Kussewitzky brothers was the cantor here, probably the best in the country and always well worth the listening to.
The two Seder nights of Pesach were usually spent with my Uncle and aunt Kalman and Tzippel, my father's sister, and their family. The old people were observant to a fault and as I mentioned previously, there was an extremely strong bond between my father and themselves and I cherish the memories of the time that we spent with these wonderful people. The Seder was completely traditional from the reading of the Haggadah to the stewed prunes at the end of the festive meal which was the cure for the constipation, the inevitable result of eating matzos and kneidlach for eight days at a stretch! In addition they made their own wine, which after four glassfuls, added levity and a feeling of having just personally crossed the Red Sea in time, beating the Egyptians who were up to their usual evil machinations, and who even after suffering the ten plagues, had not been subdued!
At Rosh Hashanah my mother usually prepared a delicious spread of all the herrings, 'kichlach'- a sweetish, crispy, biscuit to go with them, taiglach, pletzlach, and ingberlach and so forth, for a Brocha held at our place for friends and relatives. They would take a break from the Shul service up the road to drink a Le'Haim to the New Year and to reiterate the hope that it would not be worse than the one that had just passed, and how on earth could it ever have been in a place like Cape Town!
The following paragraphs are from "A Litwak at the Cape, and Further" - an autobiography by Haim Pogrund, Israel.
We considered ourselves to be Orthodox Jews by all prevailing standards in the South African tradition. By definition in those days, this included keeping kosher at home, having separate utensils for the Passover, lighting the candles on Friday evenings, and going to the synagogue on the major festivals, and for my folks, Yahrzeit for their parents, of course. An occasional kiddush on Erev Shabbat and on festival eves completed the process. There were no kippot or ritual fringes to be seen, nor was there much superfluous hair except amongst the older generation.
We were members of the Vredehoek congregation or Beit HaMidrash Hachadash the successor to the old Constitution Street Shul, and the family had its fixed pews, with my father and Uncle Kalman seated next to each other while my cousin Alec sat behind them in the back row. I usually took pot luck on available seats until my Barmitzvah. We sat at the side and facing the Bimah, and of course also opposite our women who were upstairs in the gallery dressed in their finery and perfumed to the hilt. The services were fully choral on the festivals and shabbatot and we sang the great traditional Litwishe "nigunim" with feeling.
The U'n'taneh Tokef on Yom Kippur would wring the tears from the ladies in the gallery, and the sobs together with the nose blowing into cologne impregnated handkerchiefs led by old Mrs. Kasimov, Mahzor pressed to her short sighted eyes, amongst others, added to the gravity of the day.
Hazzanim included Inspector, and Rudy over the years, with Lichterman holding the position for the greatest period. Lichterman, a small man, and a later acquisition, was a little prima donna -ish, and God help anybody who opened a window on a stifling Yom Kippur day to try to raise the oxygen level a fraction. He would stop singing, wrap his prayer shawl around his neck and mouth, and throw a malevolent look in the direction of the offending window and perpetrator. This was immediately banged closed by a 'Kammite Member' who was posted among the ladies, and the show would go on.
The Hazzan Sheini or "Ba'al Tefilah" was the magnificent Rev. Rabinowitz who for countless years sang perfectly in a voice resembling the sound made by humming on tissue paper over a comb. He read the torah without error or blemish and was totally unaffected by the surrounding "tummel." He was known as a "feine Yid" and was also the official "Shofar Blozzer", with the sounds undoubtedly reaching to the heavens on the Days of Awe.
The late and venerated Chaim Mirvish was the spiritual leader of the congregation at the time, and a more respected Jew was hard to find. Uninvolved in the political intrigues and petty rows of the Shul "Kammite", he set the example for sincerity and integrity coupled with wisdom. They do not come like that any more.
The elders in the shul including Messrs. Koppel Sacks, Glick, Melamed, Sher and so on, would sit along the Eastern wall covered by their extensive "taleisim" and "shokkeling" like the best of them, other than for the occasions when they would make their way to the toilets to relieve their continually irritating prostatism.
Dear God! What a rumpus was created if a mistake was made in the "trop" or in the text which was being read. Desks were banged, and voices were raised in cacophany until the correction was made. Simhat Torah and Purim were the two occasions when these people came into their own. On the former, tables were loaded with chopped, and pickled herring and Kichlach a la Lita, and "teiglach" made by the women's committee, while the 'Shnapps' flowed and conviviality reigned. It was a rollicking party and gave a boost to the Hakkafot or merriment with the completion of the reading of the law and starting it afresh. The team was completed by Mr. Ritz the shammash who had been one of my surgical bootmakers, but had given it up as it were, "to take the cloth"!
The day of Atonement presented the opportunity for us to tour the surrounding Synagogues, visit the museum and art gallery in the Gardens, and just sit under the oaks watching the passing show. In addition, one could take in the "talent" in the other Shuls. Of course , the Gardens Shul usually had the best choir, and was a social cut above the rest of the communities, at least as far as the external trappings of the members were concerned. The president, and executive wore top hats and morning suits and old man Rabie and his cronies looked as incongruous as could be, and not exactly fitting the old axiom "fine feathers make fine birds." Our committee at the Vredehoek synagogue, I am afraid, could only manage Homburgs, but even here Traub and company were definitely no improvement sartorially, on Rabie and company.
The one thing however that never palled or galled was the magnificence of the Gardens Shul itself. It had an awesomeness, both inside and out, which I have yet to find in another relatively modern place of worship of any denomination in any place. The choir and Boris Rome added their efforts to the dignity of the prayers. No wonder it was called "der Englischer Shul" by my parents' generation.
Rabbi Israel Abrahams, in his pillbox papal headgear, fine, round, horn-rimmed spectacles, and goatee would deliver his regular sermon in his impeccable English, and cast an occasional glance at his prim and pince-nez'd lady in an upper front corner of the "Ezrat Nashim" which was our cue for a hasty departure!
The shammash here happened to be a Mr. Gordon, who was a true - blue "landsman" of my father from Abel as was Mr. Kuperman, a member of the Gardens Synagogue and a private Hebrew teacher for those who could afford it, so that we always managed to find a temporary seat with the former's help.
Overflow, on the high festivals spilled over into the "Old Shul" next door, the first Synagogue building in South Africa, and again, the atmosphere here could only be described as inspiring. A tour of the National Art Gallery including the Meyerowitz carved doors, and the South African Museum to see the beautiful waxwork figures of local Bushman tribesmen, completed our visit to the Gardens, and on we would go to the Roeland Street Shul, of which a water colour by Leng Dixon, hangs just above and facing me on the wall while I write.
Kirzner was the spiritual leader here, and I remember him with clarity. He left just after the war, and the congregation transferred to "the Opera House" or the " Round Shul" in Schoonder Street, after most of the Jewish residents had departed the district for a more sumptuous lifestyle. One of the famous Kussewitzky brothers was the cantor here, probably the best in the country and always well worth the listening to.
The two Seder nights of Pesach were usually spent with my Uncle and aunt Kalman and Tzippel, my father's sister, and their family. The old people were observant to a fault and as I mentioned previously, there was an extremely strong bond between my father and themselves and I cherish the memories of the time that we spent with these wonderful people. The Seder was completely traditional from the reading of the Haggadah to the stewed prunes at the end of the festive meal which was the cure for the constipation, the inevitable result of eating matzos and kneidlach for eight days at a stretch! In addition they made their own wine, which after four glassfuls, added levity and a feeling of having just personally crossed the Red Sea in time, beating the Egyptians who were up to their usual evil machinations, and who even after suffering the ten plagues, had not been subdued!
At Rosh Hashanah my mother usually prepared a delicious spread of all the herrings, 'kichlach'- a sweetish, crispy, biscuit to go with them, taiglach, pletzlach, and ingberlach and so forth, for a Brocha held at our place for friends and relatives. They would take a break from the Shul service up the road to drink a Le'Haim to the New Year and to reiterate the hope that it would not be worse than the one that had just passed, and how on earth could it ever have been in a place like Cape Town!
CHEDER MEMORIES OF SOUTH AFRICA
By Pharrel Wener
My earliest memory of attending Hebrew school was as a seven year old youngster growing up in Cape Town, South Africa in the mid 1950s. We used to go to afternoon cheder and were taken there by cheder bus, which was an orange painted vehicle with Hebrew and English characters on the sides. The bus which was owned by the Jewish community used to fetch us from our homes every afternoon, Monday to Friday, and after Hebrew school it would return us to our homes. I remember the bus always stopping on route at Oranjia, the Jewish Orphanage, to collect the kids who were living there. My first Hebrew teacher was a Miss Stern and her demeanor did not belie her name. I also remember the class singing sessions which were conducted by Cantor Immerman, the blind chazzan. He was an amazing man who knew everything by memory and we used to take turns in opening the door for him, and for many years he also taught bar mitzvahs. He was a beloved figure in the community, always a most welcome visitor, and there is hardly a Jewish Capetonian who grew up in the last half of the twentieth century who did not know him.
All this went on for three months when my life changed forever. My father, Jack Wener died very suddenly, at age 37, whilst playing cricket. A family decision was made to send me away from Cape Town to live with my Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Max who owned an hotel in Paarl, a country town about 35 miles from Cape Town, which is in the heart of the wine district. Although I used to see my mother often, my aunt and uncle became my surrogate parents, and my cousins became the siblings I never had. I now understand that in effecting this change, my mother and her sisters felt that I would cope better with my loss in a different environment. This of course meant a change in regular school and Hebrew school. I remember being taken down to the Talmud Torah on my first afternoon in Paarl and it seemed so different from Cape Town. It was far more intimate and less institutional. No cheder buses. I had to be schlepped every afternoon to my lessons. My teacher was the Rev Kur who was also the chazzan of the Paarl Shul. He was a wonderful teacher and very popular. I remember him in the summer, often coming to the local municipal swimming pool, and that was where the local Jewish mothers usually took the opportunity of giving him an earful! Shortly after arriving at the Paarl Talmud Torah, I was also taken under the tutelage of the Rabbi, Dr Levine whom we all referred to as Doc. Doc taught me to say Kaddish for my father, and it was not long before I was being driven twice to the synagogue campus, once for cheder and later to say kaddish at minyan. Me and the old men. They all spoke Yiddish so I didn’t understand what they were saying, but occasionally one or another would nod his approval and tell me that I say a good Kaddish. It was here that I learned to daven with proper nusach which I will say stood me in good stead in years to come. On Friday nights which were usually very well attended, I became the official cup bearer for Rev Kur while he chanted Kiddush after which I was permitted to take a sip.
Shabbat mornings in Paarl were not as well attended but all the regular old men were there, about 20 of them in all. Hardly any ladies attended with the exception of Mrs. Levine and maybe a few others. But there were plenty of children, maybe 40 or so.
In Paarl it was a tradition that during the Haftarah reading it was official “playtime or break” for the kids. We would all make a beeline for the door and gather at the side of the Talmud Torah hall, where they had a playground. The boys would hang out in one corner and the girls in another with the occasional breaking of ranks. This tradition must have been going on for many years. This was coupled however with another tradition and I wouldn’t even venture to guess how long it had been going on. The older boys would come well supplied with cigarettes which they used to distribute to the younger boys. It was quite a scene as you can imagine, big boys in long pants, little ones in short pants each standing around with a cigarette in their hands. It took me 44 years to kick the habit! All of a sudden we would hear “Boys!!!!!”. That was the voice of the Shammas calling us back to service. It did not seem to be necessary to beckon the girls.
My life took another dramatic turn after having spent the remaining 9 months of that year in Paarl. My mother decided that I was becoming too integrated into country life and that the time had arrived for me to become urbanized in Cape Town once again. But this time things were not to be that smooth. I was to be put into boarding school which became my de facto home for the next 10 years of my life. Being switched from a home environment to an institutional one was no picnic. At the time I felt betrayed but people kept telling me it was for my own good. Years later I found out that my Paarl family were actually opposed to my leaving them but were powerless to stop it. But I did spend many holidays there for years to come so my contact with the community was somewhat maintained. So here we go again, another change in schools and Hebrew tuition. My new Hebrew teacher was the Rev Kuperman whom we all called “Koopy”. He used to come to the school three afternoon’s a week and tutor the Jewish boarders in Hebrew and for bar mitzvah. We used to attend services on Saturday mornings at the Great Synagogue in Cape Town, where we all had to sit next to Koopy and be on our best behavior. This was a cathedral synagogue, so there was no running out at Haftarah time as in Paarl. Koopy was from the old school but his classes were chaotic for want of a better word. There were about 15 kids in the class of different age groups ranging from beginners to bar mitzvah level. A typical scene in one of Koopy’s classes was having about five boys all practicing their haphtarah or maftir at the same time, and then for the rest of the class practicing reading from the siddur or trying to learn Hebrew grammar, with Koopy attending to one pupil at a time. How anyone ever learned anything there always mystified me because I eventually left. One of Koopy’s favorite sayings in his Yiddish accent was “Now take dem book and learn dem lesson odervise der mamen is paying all fer nuttin”. When back home for holidays I was occasionally asked by the family to do this take on Koopy. They seemed to think it was funny but when they eventually discovered how much my Hebrew had deteriorated since the Paarl days, things got serious. I overheard some talk about my being sent to Claremont Talmud Torah near the boarding school. My school principal who was also in charge of the hostel was opposed to the idea but in the end he relented. The moment I became aware of the imminent change, I became pro-active and boldly announced to Koopy that I was not coming back. I got away with this for about three months until it was discovered and was sent back to Koopy.
Eventually I did go to Claremont Talmud Torah where I was well tutored although I had much catching up to do after three years with Koopy. I received my bar mitzvah tuition there and they awarded me the class prize for steady work. I had my bar mitzvah at the Great Synagogue in Cape Town, where we were members. It was a public holiday so everyone was able to come. What is more, it was also the date of my late father’s birthday. I was in great form and everyone was pleased.
In conclusion there is something I will always remember from that day. After I had finished my haphtarah and was walking back to my seat my hand was grabbed by an elderly gentleman who said to me “I am verra prowd”. It was Koopy.
© Pharrel Wener, 2010
Some family history about the Kaimowitz family relationship to the Gardens Shul. Sent by Daryl. The article was written by C.K. Friedlander in 1977.
MUIZENBERG BEACH
in the 1960s
Welcome to Muizenberg :
South Africa's premier holiday resort
by Dr. Mervyn Rosenberg © 2010
It is the turn of the century, it is summer - it is the holiday season, Muizenberg at its best.
The village of Muizenberg is inundated with visitors from the Transvaal – the wealthy – the mining magnates – Cecil John Rhodes, Sammy Marks, Sir Abe Bailey, and the Oppenheimers to name but a few. All of them have built holiday "cottages". Actually, they are mansions – some of which have been designed by Sir Herbert Baker, who also spends his summers in Muizenberg. Bathing boxes have also been built on the beach front.
The men stroll and discuss business and the women sit on the beach dressed in the high fashions of the time. Children are playing at the waters edge, fishing and sailing toy boats on the vlei.
Olive Shreiner is also a regular visitor as is Rudyard Kipling the poet, who wrote a poem about Muizenberg ...
"White as the sand of Muizenberg
Spun before the Gale"
The locals in the village are going about their business. They need to sustain themselves for the off-season. Frikkie Auret is selling fresh fish – which has just been trekked. His wife runs the dairy, and on the Main Road near the railway station, is John Brown's General Dealer shop.
Many hotels have sprung up in the area - The Marine, The Park, and Farmer Pecks is now called The Grand Hotel. Farmer Pecks is a remnant of the past when Muizenberg was a half-way house to Simons Town.
We move to the 1920's. It is summer. Muizenberg has changed, it is no longer a little village but a growing town, albeit a suburb. It is the swinging 20s, the people now wear fashionable bathing costumes to the beach.
The old hotels are BUZZING and new hotels have sprung up. The big names – the Oppenheimers, the Schlesingers, Sir J.B. Robinson, etc., are still coming to Muizenberg to their holiday homes. Other dignitaries are staying at the new and very posh and modern Muizenberg hotels.
There is a wooden pavilion. There is plenty to do in Muizenberg, dances at night in the hotels, a bandstand next to the pavilion. Surfing has taken off – long 6ft wooden surfboards. Muizenberg is probably where surfing originated in South Africa. Muizenberg in spite of this huge growth and influx of people, has still retained its village atmosphere and character: the local inhabitants are a very close knit community.
The wooden pavilion built in 1911 was demolished in 1929. At the same time the new pavilion was completed. For a while both pavilions stood together, the wooden pavilion was closer to the mountain. The new pavilion was spectacular, an architectural masterpiece designed by Grant: a grand reception hall with seating for 900 people, restaurants, a milk bar. It had everything! A promenade that had been designed in such a way that together with the pavilion and the bathing boxes, a wind free beach was created – the Snakepit.
We move to the late Thirties, Forty's and Fifties – we move to MY MUIZENBERG. There has been a huge influx of Eastern European Jews, There are approximately 600 Jewish families. The local industry, schools and hotels are largely sustained by this community. A magnificent synagogue had been built in 1924, the synagogue is not big enough for the High festivals and summer holidays and an overflow is needed – The Talmud Torah Hall. Even then, there is very often only standing room.
The services are led by Rabbi Weinberg, Cantor Goldwasser, and the Reverend Frank. Who can ever forget Reverend Frank striding down to the beach in his striped dressing gown at six in the morning to swim. He continued to do this every day until he died, no matter what the weather. The Shamash is Mr. Brooks.
There is a Choir that practises every Tuesday night: the choir master is Bennie Galansky. Mrs Goldwasser gives us freshly baked sponge cake and Oros for Tea. Our remuneration for singing in the Shul Choir is one Guinea per year. The Cheder teachers are Mr and Mrs Smolensky and Miss Singer. There are 9 classes every afternoon, i.e. 3x3.
It is the 50s – the Snakepit is the beach for teenagers. Parents are supposed to go to the other beaches such as the Balmoral Beach.
It is in the Snakepit that we play touch rugby and bok bok. It is here that many romances start. Many of those romances have resulted in marriages. It is here that we meet the girls and boys from all over the country. Everyone is friendly and having fun. Everybody sits together no matter what the age.
The beach photographer is taking photographs for Movie Snaps. We are rubbing on Brylcream and olive oil for tanning. We are smoking Texan, Lucky Strike and State Express 555. We are making dates for a night out – to the bop floor – to the milky bar and the Vic Davis Show - to Norman’s Café and the Empire Bioscope – and a walk on the promenade – touching the end for good luck.
It is January and the wealthy holiday-makers are in Muizenberg. The butler, wearing his white jacket and red sash, arrives at the beach followed by an entourage of staff bearing platters filled with freshly fried fish or chicken, for the midday meal.
Leibke, the Yiddish speaking fruit vendor, is selling fruit – Leibke – Leibke. If you don't remember him, he will remember you and your family and who your girl or boyfriend was at the time. Leibke's mother was a domestic in a Jewish household in Muizenberg, he grew up speaking Yiddish before he could speak English or Afrikaans. He was as much a part of Jewish Muizenberg as the Rabbi. His actual name is Sidney, but he was renamed Leibke due to his stature as an honorary Jew. To this day he never fails to phone me on any of the Yom Tavim. His only regret, he said, is that he was not put into the Jewish old age home at Highlands House.
The Empire bioscope: the manager Mr. Philips always wore a tuxedo and black bow tie, whether it was a matinee, Saturday morning double feature or Saturday evening show. On Saturday nights we wore a jacket and a tie.
The Cafes - The Muizenberg of my day did not have restaurants but honest and unpretentious cafes. After bioscope, we would stop off at Norman's Café for a hotdog or hamburger. Between the Empire and Norman's café was the Maccabi Café, owned by Tex. The Maccabi café was the first cinema and was renowned for its pinball machines. It was the hangout for the local ducktails. The adults went to the Majestic Café.
Palmer Road was the business centre of Muizenberg. Mr Schneider was the kosher butcher in Palmer Road. The floor was covered in fresh sawdust. He was able to "Treibe" a hindquarter, i.e. he would remove the vein and the hindquarter would become kosher. Mr Schneider deserved a medal for putting up with my mother and all the other wives. His delivery man rode up and down all day long on his bicycle, delivering meat and returning to exchange it for some real or imaginary deficiency in the order. Both Mr Schneider and the delivery man now occupy a very special place in heaven.
Then there were the Traplers and Mrs Schneider who made fresh bagels, the Zives who sold fish, the Levinsteins poultry and eggs. Mr Brint, a deaf mute, was the shoemaker and an absolute whiz on the races. There were two dairies in Palmer Road, the Millers and Mr Stoch. Mr Stoch delivered his own milk on a bicycle. There was also a third dairy in York Rd.
We bought vegetables and fruit from Mr Raad on the Main Rd or Mr Gallias in York Road. Just down the road was Kents, where you could buy anything. James Morom on the Main Rd sold everything from a pencil to paint. School uniforms were bought from Dankers.
Who can forget the beef on rye from Irene Sack's delicatessen!
There were three pharmacies in Muizenberg – Shagams, Reichlins and Max Rosenberg. The doctors in the area to name but a few were Henson, Gordon, Shapiro, Novis, Blumenthal and Kriegler. The dentists were Henderson, Viljoen and Eisman. Before school we all used to go down to the beach to swim, with a cake of soap and take shower.
I can remember the trekking of fish early in the morning, and my dad taking home fresh harders which my mother grilled for breakfast. In those days one could get fresh Galjoen, Hardes, Hottentot and many more varieties of fish. I can remember the fish cart - the horn blowing announcing their fresh wares. We had an unspoilt and uncomplicated childhood
I lived in Yarmouth Road. On the corner was the boathouse, where the 2nd Muizenberg Jewish Scout movement held its meetings.
If you walked down Yarmouth Road you would pass the homes of Embdin, Singer, Loon, Marcus, Frank, Coleman, Chaits, Glazer, Kaye, Hope, the Luries, Michael Lockitch, Lazarus, Kushner, Miller, Shapiro and Oblowitz. At the bottom of Yarmouth Road lived Gus Levine, one of the characters of Muizenberg. He taught us how to play Beach Bats. Behind me lived the Kastans, Dermans, Silbersteins, Garbs, Blumenthals, Apters, Musikanths and many more. We were all friends - we still are all friends and still see each other regularly.
My memories of Muizenberg are of a very happy time of a very close community, a big family, of relationships that last to this very day. It is difficult to describe this close relationship to anyone who did not grow up in Muizenberg. Muizenberg was so not because of Muizenberg, but because of the people that lived there and the holidaymakers, the camaraderie and love that existed between us, the relationships that were built and still last. It was not a wealthy community: our parents were generally first generation South Africans. But it was a rich community, rich with love and respect.
We felt blessed – we were living 365 days a year in this special place, a place that existed because of a set of circumstances that came together, and will never come together again. A holiday resort built by the British Empire and a set of Eastern European immigrants who were arriving in a new country, and who adopted this holiday resort even as the colonials abandoned it and remoulded it to their image. But these people are all gone, as are all the aspects that made my youth so wonderful.
"We have the berg
We have the lake
The surf and endless sand"
We have all those memories of a wonderful childhood, of a wonderful loving and caring community and of bonds that have lasted forever.
South Africa's premier holiday resort
by Dr. Mervyn Rosenberg © 2010
It is the turn of the century, it is summer - it is the holiday season, Muizenberg at its best.
The village of Muizenberg is inundated with visitors from the Transvaal – the wealthy – the mining magnates – Cecil John Rhodes, Sammy Marks, Sir Abe Bailey, and the Oppenheimers to name but a few. All of them have built holiday "cottages". Actually, they are mansions – some of which have been designed by Sir Herbert Baker, who also spends his summers in Muizenberg. Bathing boxes have also been built on the beach front.
The men stroll and discuss business and the women sit on the beach dressed in the high fashions of the time. Children are playing at the waters edge, fishing and sailing toy boats on the vlei.
Olive Shreiner is also a regular visitor as is Rudyard Kipling the poet, who wrote a poem about Muizenberg ...
"White as the sand of Muizenberg
Spun before the Gale"
The locals in the village are going about their business. They need to sustain themselves for the off-season. Frikkie Auret is selling fresh fish – which has just been trekked. His wife runs the dairy, and on the Main Road near the railway station, is John Brown's General Dealer shop.
Many hotels have sprung up in the area - The Marine, The Park, and Farmer Pecks is now called The Grand Hotel. Farmer Pecks is a remnant of the past when Muizenberg was a half-way house to Simons Town.
We move to the 1920's. It is summer. Muizenberg has changed, it is no longer a little village but a growing town, albeit a suburb. It is the swinging 20s, the people now wear fashionable bathing costumes to the beach.
The old hotels are BUZZING and new hotels have sprung up. The big names – the Oppenheimers, the Schlesingers, Sir J.B. Robinson, etc., are still coming to Muizenberg to their holiday homes. Other dignitaries are staying at the new and very posh and modern Muizenberg hotels.
There is a wooden pavilion. There is plenty to do in Muizenberg, dances at night in the hotels, a bandstand next to the pavilion. Surfing has taken off – long 6ft wooden surfboards. Muizenberg is probably where surfing originated in South Africa. Muizenberg in spite of this huge growth and influx of people, has still retained its village atmosphere and character: the local inhabitants are a very close knit community.
The wooden pavilion built in 1911 was demolished in 1929. At the same time the new pavilion was completed. For a while both pavilions stood together, the wooden pavilion was closer to the mountain. The new pavilion was spectacular, an architectural masterpiece designed by Grant: a grand reception hall with seating for 900 people, restaurants, a milk bar. It had everything! A promenade that had been designed in such a way that together with the pavilion and the bathing boxes, a wind free beach was created – the Snakepit.
We move to the late Thirties, Forty's and Fifties – we move to MY MUIZENBERG. There has been a huge influx of Eastern European Jews, There are approximately 600 Jewish families. The local industry, schools and hotels are largely sustained by this community. A magnificent synagogue had been built in 1924, the synagogue is not big enough for the High festivals and summer holidays and an overflow is needed – The Talmud Torah Hall. Even then, there is very often only standing room.
The services are led by Rabbi Weinberg, Cantor Goldwasser, and the Reverend Frank. Who can ever forget Reverend Frank striding down to the beach in his striped dressing gown at six in the morning to swim. He continued to do this every day until he died, no matter what the weather. The Shamash is Mr. Brooks.
There is a Choir that practises every Tuesday night: the choir master is Bennie Galansky. Mrs Goldwasser gives us freshly baked sponge cake and Oros for Tea. Our remuneration for singing in the Shul Choir is one Guinea per year. The Cheder teachers are Mr and Mrs Smolensky and Miss Singer. There are 9 classes every afternoon, i.e. 3x3.
It is the 50s – the Snakepit is the beach for teenagers. Parents are supposed to go to the other beaches such as the Balmoral Beach.
It is in the Snakepit that we play touch rugby and bok bok. It is here that many romances start. Many of those romances have resulted in marriages. It is here that we meet the girls and boys from all over the country. Everyone is friendly and having fun. Everybody sits together no matter what the age.
The beach photographer is taking photographs for Movie Snaps. We are rubbing on Brylcream and olive oil for tanning. We are smoking Texan, Lucky Strike and State Express 555. We are making dates for a night out – to the bop floor – to the milky bar and the Vic Davis Show - to Norman’s Café and the Empire Bioscope – and a walk on the promenade – touching the end for good luck.
It is January and the wealthy holiday-makers are in Muizenberg. The butler, wearing his white jacket and red sash, arrives at the beach followed by an entourage of staff bearing platters filled with freshly fried fish or chicken, for the midday meal.
Leibke, the Yiddish speaking fruit vendor, is selling fruit – Leibke – Leibke. If you don't remember him, he will remember you and your family and who your girl or boyfriend was at the time. Leibke's mother was a domestic in a Jewish household in Muizenberg, he grew up speaking Yiddish before he could speak English or Afrikaans. He was as much a part of Jewish Muizenberg as the Rabbi. His actual name is Sidney, but he was renamed Leibke due to his stature as an honorary Jew. To this day he never fails to phone me on any of the Yom Tavim. His only regret, he said, is that he was not put into the Jewish old age home at Highlands House.
The Empire bioscope: the manager Mr. Philips always wore a tuxedo and black bow tie, whether it was a matinee, Saturday morning double feature or Saturday evening show. On Saturday nights we wore a jacket and a tie.
The Cafes - The Muizenberg of my day did not have restaurants but honest and unpretentious cafes. After bioscope, we would stop off at Norman's Café for a hotdog or hamburger. Between the Empire and Norman's café was the Maccabi Café, owned by Tex. The Maccabi café was the first cinema and was renowned for its pinball machines. It was the hangout for the local ducktails. The adults went to the Majestic Café.
Palmer Road was the business centre of Muizenberg. Mr Schneider was the kosher butcher in Palmer Road. The floor was covered in fresh sawdust. He was able to "Treibe" a hindquarter, i.e. he would remove the vein and the hindquarter would become kosher. Mr Schneider deserved a medal for putting up with my mother and all the other wives. His delivery man rode up and down all day long on his bicycle, delivering meat and returning to exchange it for some real or imaginary deficiency in the order. Both Mr Schneider and the delivery man now occupy a very special place in heaven.
Then there were the Traplers and Mrs Schneider who made fresh bagels, the Zives who sold fish, the Levinsteins poultry and eggs. Mr Brint, a deaf mute, was the shoemaker and an absolute whiz on the races. There were two dairies in Palmer Road, the Millers and Mr Stoch. Mr Stoch delivered his own milk on a bicycle. There was also a third dairy in York Rd.
We bought vegetables and fruit from Mr Raad on the Main Rd or Mr Gallias in York Road. Just down the road was Kents, where you could buy anything. James Morom on the Main Rd sold everything from a pencil to paint. School uniforms were bought from Dankers.
Who can forget the beef on rye from Irene Sack's delicatessen!
There were three pharmacies in Muizenberg – Shagams, Reichlins and Max Rosenberg. The doctors in the area to name but a few were Henson, Gordon, Shapiro, Novis, Blumenthal and Kriegler. The dentists were Henderson, Viljoen and Eisman. Before school we all used to go down to the beach to swim, with a cake of soap and take shower.
I can remember the trekking of fish early in the morning, and my dad taking home fresh harders which my mother grilled for breakfast. In those days one could get fresh Galjoen, Hardes, Hottentot and many more varieties of fish. I can remember the fish cart - the horn blowing announcing their fresh wares. We had an unspoilt and uncomplicated childhood
I lived in Yarmouth Road. On the corner was the boathouse, where the 2nd Muizenberg Jewish Scout movement held its meetings.
If you walked down Yarmouth Road you would pass the homes of Embdin, Singer, Loon, Marcus, Frank, Coleman, Chaits, Glazer, Kaye, Hope, the Luries, Michael Lockitch, Lazarus, Kushner, Miller, Shapiro and Oblowitz. At the bottom of Yarmouth Road lived Gus Levine, one of the characters of Muizenberg. He taught us how to play Beach Bats. Behind me lived the Kastans, Dermans, Silbersteins, Garbs, Blumenthals, Apters, Musikanths and many more. We were all friends - we still are all friends and still see each other regularly.
My memories of Muizenberg are of a very happy time of a very close community, a big family, of relationships that last to this very day. It is difficult to describe this close relationship to anyone who did not grow up in Muizenberg. Muizenberg was so not because of Muizenberg, but because of the people that lived there and the holidaymakers, the camaraderie and love that existed between us, the relationships that were built and still last. It was not a wealthy community: our parents were generally first generation South Africans. But it was a rich community, rich with love and respect.
We felt blessed – we were living 365 days a year in this special place, a place that existed because of a set of circumstances that came together, and will never come together again. A holiday resort built by the British Empire and a set of Eastern European immigrants who were arriving in a new country, and who adopted this holiday resort even as the colonials abandoned it and remoulded it to their image. But these people are all gone, as are all the aspects that made my youth so wonderful.
"We have the berg
We have the lake
The surf and endless sand"
We have all those memories of a wonderful childhood, of a wonderful loving and caring community and of bonds that have lasted forever.
Chief Rabbi Israel Abrahams
Chief Rabbi Israel Abrahams was born on 12 March 1903 in Vilna, Lithuania. He was the son of Zecharya Alter Abramowich and Rachel Leah Sherman. As a young boy Abrahams emigrated with his parents to England where he was educated at the Jews College and the University of London. He was minister of the Shepherd's Bush synagogue in London (1928-32) and the Great Synagogue, Manchester (1933-37).
He came to South Africa in 1937 and on 30 June 1945 he was appointed the Chief Rabbi of the Cape Town Hebrew Congregations and his duties covered the Cape and South West Africa (now known as Namibia) and the Sephardi Congregation of Northern Rhodesia (now known as Zambia). He held the position of Chief Rabbi of the Cape Town Hebrew congregation for more than thirty years (1937- 1968).
A year after his arrival he was also appointed part-time professor of Hebrew at the University of Cape Town. Chief Rabbi Abrahams wrote extensively and also translated numerous Hebrew articles into English.
His activities and interests within the Cape Town Jewish community went far beyond his rabbinical duties. Chief Rabbi Abrahams was very concerned with the problems and spread of the Hebrew day-school movement and was instrumental in founding both a youth centre (Rosecourt) and a hostel for young Jewish women; he was chairman of the Jewish Museum and Historical Society and a trustee of the Cape Town Jewish Orphanage. An avowed Zionist, Chief Rabbi Abrahams travelled extensively in South Africa to promote the cause of Jewish national revival. He also worked extensively to encourage goodwill at an inter-faith level: regular visits were organised for non-Jewish groups to the Great Synagogue, his three annual broadcast services were listened to by many thousands. Chief Rabbi Abrahams was also the vice-president of the Society of Christians and Jews, a member of the council of the South African Institute of Race Relations, and served on the board of the Cape Community Chest.
Upon his retirement in 1968, Chief Rabbi Israel Abrahams settled in Jerusalem, Israel, where he died on 27 October 1973.
Chief Rabbi Israel Abrahams was born on 12 March 1903 in Vilna, Lithuania. He was the son of Zecharya Alter Abramowich and Rachel Leah Sherman. As a young boy Abrahams emigrated with his parents to England where he was educated at the Jews College and the University of London. He was minister of the Shepherd's Bush synagogue in London (1928-32) and the Great Synagogue, Manchester (1933-37).
He came to South Africa in 1937 and on 30 June 1945 he was appointed the Chief Rabbi of the Cape Town Hebrew Congregations and his duties covered the Cape and South West Africa (now known as Namibia) and the Sephardi Congregation of Northern Rhodesia (now known as Zambia). He held the position of Chief Rabbi of the Cape Town Hebrew congregation for more than thirty years (1937- 1968).
A year after his arrival he was also appointed part-time professor of Hebrew at the University of Cape Town. Chief Rabbi Abrahams wrote extensively and also translated numerous Hebrew articles into English.
His activities and interests within the Cape Town Jewish community went far beyond his rabbinical duties. Chief Rabbi Abrahams was very concerned with the problems and spread of the Hebrew day-school movement and was instrumental in founding both a youth centre (Rosecourt) and a hostel for young Jewish women; he was chairman of the Jewish Museum and Historical Society and a trustee of the Cape Town Jewish Orphanage. An avowed Zionist, Chief Rabbi Abrahams travelled extensively in South Africa to promote the cause of Jewish national revival. He also worked extensively to encourage goodwill at an inter-faith level: regular visits were organised for non-Jewish groups to the Great Synagogue, his three annual broadcast services were listened to by many thousands. Chief Rabbi Abrahams was also the vice-president of the Society of Christians and Jews, a member of the council of the South African Institute of Race Relations, and served on the board of the Cape Community Chest.
Upon his retirement in 1968, Chief Rabbi Israel Abrahams settled in Jerusalem, Israel, where he died on 27 October 1973.