Mary and Henry Fishman, c. 1940.

My father came to the United States in the early 1900s when he was about 17. I think his family came through Ellis Island and then moved to Maynard. Some of the family came over and then they brought the rest of the family. My mother was his cousin, and they got married around 1907. They don't usually allow first cousins to marry in this country, you had to be a third cousin, but no one said anything, these were immigrants, who cared? They didn't have any trouble.
                He was a harness-maker at a factory in Maynard, but let's face it, harness factories only last so long. You've got to remember that they spoke only Yiddish and Russian. He could read and write Yiddish, and he learned to read English later on, but never learned to write it. My mother spoke Yiddish and Russian and later English, and never learned to read or write. They call that illiterate! But she did know her figures, and when she went food shopping, boy, no one could cheat her.

2. BROTHERS AND SISTERS,
LEARNING ENGLISH

Dora Fishman, c. 1938.

My older brothers and sisters were born in Maynard, and I was the first one born in Boston. I'm the seventh out of ten, and thank God they were speaking English by the time I was born. My two brothers--Uncle Abe and Uncle Ruby--quit school to support the family. But even though Reuben quit school later on he went to Bentley College, they accepted him even though he didn't have a diploma. He had already been working a long time, he even had his own shoe store.
                My oldest sister Rose got appendicitis when she was about 13, she was in my grandfather Aaron's care up in Maine. My family didn't believe in hospitals, they thought you only went to hospitals to die. The hospital wanted my grandfather to sign for the operation, but he wouldn't sign because he was afraid they would kill her. By the time they got my father it was too late and she died. Nowadays they operate whether you sign or not.
                Auntie Eva was the fourth child. She could speak only Yiddish, and one day the social workers came to my mother and said "she's of age, she has to go to school." So my mother took her by the hand and left her in the school yard!

Milty and (his mother) Mary Fishman on the roof in Dorchester, c. 1939. Note the cat and the laundry.

                Eva just stood there, she didn't know what to do, she couldn't speak English. When the children went inside she stood there and one little child took her by the hand and brought her inside. The teacher sat her right in the front row and that's where she learned her English.
                Who was the first of us to learn English? I have news for you, it must have been Aunt Dora. Dora was next, but she had double pneumonia and the hospital took her away. There were so many children my mother couldn't take good of her. I never knew I had this sister until I was about 16 years old. She must have learned English when they took her away.
                The next one was Hyman, your Uncle Hymie, but I don't know if they spoke English then. All I know is that when I was around they were all speaking English. I used to hear them speaking Yiddish, I understood a lot of it, but I didn't speak it. If they didn't want us to know, they spoke Russian. Sarah came next, and then Uncle Phillip. Milton was ten years after me. He's the baby of the family and he still acts like one.

3. A TALE OF TWO WORLDS

We had two worlds. The house was the world of Jewish Orthodox family life, after school we would have Hebrew two hours a night at the shul. The men were the ones who were important, they were the ones who would say the prayers every morning. I liked learning Hebrew, so my father sent me. But it wasn't important for the girls. There were probably three girls out of thirty kids in the classroom.
                And of course the food was kosher. On a typical day, being a girl, I take my own breakfast, which was probably an egg and oatmeal and so forth, and I take my own lunch. The boys got served--my mother made their breakfast and their lunch for them. But for supper she served all of us, she always had a big meal, meat and potatoes and vegetables and sometimes fish and you had to eat every drop of it. On Saturday you didn't do anything, you couldn't even play ball. The boys went to shul, but the girls weren't expected to go. But on the holidays we would sit up in the balcony and we would look on the men down below, and frankly who would want to be down there saying all those prayers? The temples in those days they were big things, now they have smaller buildings.
                That's the Jewish side. That's one world. And the other world, we did live a mixed neighborhood, Italians and Irish and I think there was an Indian family, not from America but from India. Everybody played together, they were very friendly and they got along. This was the outside world.

Holiday card featuring a picture of the narrator (Sylvia), c. 1935.

  School was the Christian world, the teachers were mostly Christian and unmarried. They were dedicated teachers, they were good. In the morning we saluted the flag and said the Psalm of David, but I figured because it wasn't in Hebrew it was a Christian prayer. Also the Jewish people say the last line one way and the Christians say it the other way. At Christmas time they sang songs, they weren't the ultra-religious carols, just Jingle Bells. But we knew these were Christian holidays. I even thought all the American holidays, like Bunker Hill Day, were Christian Holidays. For example, at Thanksgiving they said prayers--but technically it was an American holiday. There was a Jewish world and a Christian world, and let's face it, when you're younger that's all you know.

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