Families struggling for a chance to survive and thrive
As a journalist who specializes in covering religious and cultural diversity, I'm fascinated by the hundreds of newspapers and magazines that sprang up to meet the waves of immigrants arriving in the U.S. in the early 20th Century. Recently, through the recommendation of a Goodreads friend, I learned that Schocken publishes a collection of columns from A Bintel Brief (a bundle of letters), a newspaper series launched by the legendary Forward editor Abraham Cahan. Not only was Cahan a co-founder of the original Yiddish Forward in New York City in 1897—he served as its Editor in Chief for 43 years!
Cahan and his staff had close ties to Jewish neighborhoods, labor unions, merchants and political movements in New York City, which the paper closely covered in each issue. But, Cahan eventually realized that his Forward was missing out on many important issues in the everyday family lives of his readers. Thus, in 1906, A Bintel Brief was born. Cahan's invitation for his readers to send in letters about the joys, the dilemmas and the sorrows of family life was an instant hit—especially when readers realized that the Forward staff would respond with wise advice. Think of a pioneering Yiddish version of Ask Ann Landers (founded in 1943) or Dear Abby (founded in 1956).
In fact, Cahan's idea was so popular that the Introduction to this book says that some enterprising merchants in New York began hanging out shingles, aimed at customers who could not write Yiddish, selling the services of a Bintel Brief-style ghost writer. For a fee, of course.
According to the Introduction, Cahan and his staff became quite astute at choosing the sincere letters from real people and weeding out any signs of overblown ghost writing—or any evidence that a letter was a fake.
The best of the resulting letters are collected in nearly 200 pages of correspondence translated into English—edited by Isaac Metzker, who I've now learned produced a second volume as well. I don't have that second volume but am eager to find a copy in the future.
This is a fascinating collage showcasing early immigrants trying to survive in the teeming and frequently cut-throat neighborhoods of New York City. Later in the book, we glimpse the challenges faced by first- and second-generation immigrants as they spread out across the United States.
Many of these mini-dramas are bittersweet.
One recurring issue voiced in these letters struck home for me, given some of the complex issues in my own family tree: In that era a century ago of rapid global migration and few modes of communication, men and women sometimes completely lost track of their loved ones. Perhaps a parent "went West" in search of a better income. Or, maybe they moved to another big city in hopes of plying their trade more easily. The main mode of communication—hand-written letters—could lag by weeks or even months. In some cases, families simply lost track of a loved one! Perhaps they had died. Or, in more than one case, a second family was started thousands of miles away!
For me, those stories of loss are some of the most heart-breaking letters in this collection.
In one case in 1906, a wife in New York City finally discovers that her husband is alive, living in Colorado, but near death from what apparently was tuberculosis. She tells the Bintel Brief that she rushed to his side, despite the difficult cross-country journey with their children. Once she reached him, "I fought my bitter lot like a lion, trying to chase the angel of death away from my husband." I won't spoil the suspense by sharing the end of her saga in this review, but this letter illustrates some of the personal heroism and high emotion that runs through these letters.
There are letters from people who were eager to embrace the freedom they found in America to marry someone of a different faith for the sake of love—in one instance a Christian-Jewish marriage, in another case an Orthodox woman marrying a much more liberal man. As such marriages matured, unforeseen friction arose. One place these frustrated couples turned was the Bintel Brief.
"I don't know what to do," is a common lament in such letters.
Rather than prescribing any dire steps, the editors preferred to counsel with compassion, patience and flexibility. "Get along with kindness" was one response to such a marital dilemma.
The emotion is palpable. In one letter, a man asked for the editors' advice about whether he should admit to his wife that he was so depressed that he had tried to commit suicide—and very nearly succeeded.
The editors' advice to keep silent about this matter seems shocking today. Of course, now we know that such a suicidal attempt is a cry for help—and we encourage people to reach out for the assistance they need. But, this exchange of letters about the temptation of suicide is worth reading because of the editors' explanation for their choice of this letter—among the hundreds they received—to publish. The letter illustrates the lethal effects of chronic poverty, the editors argued. "This letter depicting the sad life of this worker is more powerful than any protest against the inequity between rich and poor," the editors wrote.
I'm so pleased Schocken published this collection. Each page carries me into yet another family drama—some of which I can relate to from my own family history.
This book is a window peering deep into lives, each one struggling for a chance for their families to survive and thrive.