How the Rosh Yeshiva Came to America

I want to begin with a short hakdama. My son who learned as a bachur by Reb Dovid Soloveitchik for many years told me as follows. R’ Dovid Solveitchik called him over and told him that he heard from his father, the Brisker Rov, the following maaseh.

All the yeshivas went to Vilna al pi the eitzah of Reb Chaim Ozer for all yeshivas to go to Vilna during the war. So afterwards, the Rosh Yeshiva zichrono l’vracha and the Brisker Rov sat down to decide where they should go next.

The Rosh Yeshiva asked the Brisker Rov, “Where are you going?”

He said, “I’m going to Eretz Yisroel.”

Then the Brisker Rov asked the Rosh Yeshiva where he was going.

He said, “I’m going to America.”
The Brisker Rov said, “Ich hab morah tzu gain tzu America vegen di kinder[1].”

So the Rosh Yeshiva said, “Ich vel foren oif America un machen as mir zol nisht darfen morah habben[2].”

This was nevuah which we see today really came true.

 

A Boyhood Experience

In 1943, quite a few years before I came to learn in Lakewood, Reb Aharon, zichrono l’vracha, first arrived in America. My father, olav hashalom, brought me to Lakewood and he told me that he’d like to go into the yeshiva to give shalom to the Rosh Yeshiva. He’d heard he just came.

When my father and I got to the yeshiva, the Rosh Yeshiva was in the middle of a shiur. There were 12 yungerleit listening, and my father didn’t want to walk into the bais medrash in the middle of the shiur. It was such a small bais medrash. We waited until the shiur was over, and then my father and I went over and gave shalom. Certainly at that time, neither my father nor I dreamed that I would ever learn in Lakewood. The times were not ripe for it. Everybody was interested in going to high school and eventually college and so forth.

 

The Crisis in Chinnuch

I originally attended the yeshiva in Jersey City, which my mother zichrono l’vracha [MH1] created because there were no chedarim. There were 20,000 Jewish families in Jersey City and ten frumme shuls with chashuva rabbonim, but there was no cheder. Everybody went to public school. My older brother went to public school. Afterwards, children went for an hour or two to Talmud Torah. So when I was four years old, my mother and father created an all-day cheder, the first day school in the state of New Jersey. It was called the Yeshiva of Jersey City. The cheder is still in existence Boruch Hashem, not in Jersey City, naturally, but in a place called River Edge, which is near Teaneck.  It has over 900 talmidim, in elementary alone.

I went to that cheder until I was eight years old, and then I went to New York. My father sent my older brother and me to Yeshivas Rabbeinu Yaakov Yosef on the East Side in Manhattan, which was the closest yeshiva to Jersey City. In order to get there, we had to take a railroad, then a ferry boat over the Hudson River, and a subway. It was quite a trip.

I was only eight years old, but when I became twelve, my father decided that it was too much traveling. We had to stay in a dormitory yeshiva, so he brought me to Torah V’Daas. I was in Torah V’Daas when I graduated elementary school. In the yearbook of my graduation class, 1946, it said, “What is your ambition?”

I said, “I want to graduate Yeshiva Torah V’Daas and go on to Mesivta Torah V’Daas, and then go on to Yeshiva University, and then go on to Columbia University and become the owner of a supermarket chain of groceries.”

 

Lakewood’s Earliest Years

I once asked Reb Gedalya Schorr, zichrono l’vracha, “How come they allowed me to print such a thing?

And he didn’t answer me.

I said, “Reb Yisroel Salanter says that “Nisht ales vos men tracht, darft mir zogen un nisht ales vos mir zogt darft mir druken. Un nisht ales vos mir drukt darft mir maimen. V’chulu. Vi hot mir gelost trachten?[3]” 

Reb Gedalya Schorr was with me in a car. We were riding, and he didn’t answer. I was waiting for the answer.

Then he says, “Reb Herschel, tell me. Ven zeit ir mishtane gevoren?[4]”
So I said, “Well, from Torah V’Daas, I went to Telshe Yeshiva.”

So he says, “Reb Herschel, Ich freg eich, ven zeit ich geboren vir ir zent heint[5]?”
So I says, “After Telshe Yeshiva, I went to Lakewood.”

So he says, “Ahhh. Yetz farshtein[6].”

That was the inyan. It was nimne v’gamur[7] that everybody’s plan was to go to college and not to be learning.

That’s why in 1951, when I came to Lakewood, there were 60 bochurim and 30 yungerleit. In all those years from the time that the Rosh Yeshiva first arrived, the yeshiva didn’t grow much. The people that were there in Lakewood were all Europeyeshe,[8] a few yungerleit and bochurim from European families.

The matzav was that learning in the yeshiva was also very shvach. I want to mention this because it is very important to understand what the Rosh Yeshiva did here.

 

Reb Yankele Flanzgrabber’s Accomplishment

When I lived in Monsey, I had a neighbor, zol er zein gezunt[9], named R’Yitzchak Karp[MH2] . He’s the son-in-law of Reb Shraga Faivel Mendelovitz. We were very close friends and he was my brother’s rebbe in Torah V’Daas. He told me that when he was younger, he learned in a yeshiva called Yeshiva Shlomo Kluger, which was on the East Side. There was a rebbe, Reb Yankele Flanzgrabber, and they had a shiur 365 days a year, including Yom Kippur. Every day of the year, no days off. And when the talmidim got bar mitzvah, Reb Yankele Flanzgrabber gave the bochurim a matana, a K’tzos[10].

Reb Yitzchok Karp asked, “Do you think he gave us a K’tzos because it was a nice matana to give a bar mitzvah bochur? No. He gave it because we already knew almost gantz K’tzos baal peh[11] when we were ready to get bar mitzvah. That’s why he gave us a K’tzos.”

When I heard this, I really didn’t believe it entirely, but I met Reb Dovid Feinstein, Reb Moshe’s son, on the East Side a few years later, and I asked him, “Reb Dovid, you know the East Side. Reb Yitzchak Karp told me a story that they knew the K’tzos. Is that true?”

So he says to me, “Yeah. He meant emes. Reb Yankele Flanzgabber. It’s true.”

So I asked, “When did all this stop? How come we don’t find anybody 12 years old today who knows K’tzos baal peh.”

Reb Dovid said, “It was 1941.”

I said, “What happened in 1941?”

“There was a bill passed in Washington called the C.E.A. bill.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Compulsory Education Act. You had to go to public school. That’s when it stopped. When bochurim were learning by Reb Yankele Flanzgabber, they were learning the whole day, so they knew K’tzos baal peh, but when you have other things in your kup, m’mailah, forget about it. There’s no more.”

I told Reb Dovid at the time, “Reb Dovid, I don’t know if you realize what you just told me. I thought in 1941 Hitler yimach sh’mo killed out a big chelek of Klal Yisroel in Europe, and in the Yeshivishe velt, v’chulu, v’chulu, and you’re telling me that in 1941, Washington destroyed Torah in America.”

Reb Dovid said, “Punkt vi du zogst. Punkt vi du zogst. Es is richtig[12].”

This was the situation when the Rosh Yeshiva came to America. It was after 1941, and even though there was no compulsory that you had to go to college, everybody went. Nobody had a hasaga not to go. And m’mailah, therefore, there was no hope of producing any chedarim here etc.

 

Leaving Torah V’Daas

I left Torah V’Daas after I graduated elementary school because of personal family reasons. Heyos[13] as I was away, I wasn’t learning well because of all the distractions.

My father, olav hashalom, didn’t work on Sundays, so he used to come every Sunday to the Rebbe ask how we were learning. He wasn’t getting a good report.

My father said, “I want him to learn. I want him to learn.”

I told my father, “I’m learning better than everybody else, but the other parents don’t come every Sunday, so they don’t know what’s going on.  You come every Sunday, and you find out. The Rebbe tells you. What does he tell you? What I did wrong. He tells you that I went outside for half an hour to the bathroom, and when I came back, groise avlah[14].”

He went to the principal and he said,  “I come every Sunday, but he doesn’t learn.”

The principal told him, “You want him to learn? We don’t have facilities for this. If you want him to learn, go out of town. Go to Telshe Yeshiva or Ner Yisroel. Then he’ll be able to learn.”

My father said, “Where is that?” He’d never heard about them. Telshe Yeshiva was very small back then, and so was Ner Yisroel.

The principal said, “Telshe Yeshiva is about 500 miles away. Baltimore is a little closer.”

“What’s the difference between the two places?” my father asked.

“Telshe Yeshiva is stricter. Ner Yisroel is not so strict.”

So my father decided to send me to the stricter place which was further away from home.

 

Telshe Yeshiva

I was 15 years old then, and my father left me in Telshe for six months. I didn’t go home in all that time. And I learned what derech eretz for a rebbe and a talmid chacham are. We learned middos.

After I was there three years, my brother, my older brother, said – we were the only two in the family - “But since you were away for years I was the one who was coming home from college every Shabbos to be with our parents”, and it’s only fair that he should have a chance to go out of town for a while, and that I should come home, to learn in a yeshiva closer to home.

So I said, “I don’t want to leave Telshe Yeshiva. There’s no place to learn in New York.” But my brother was very pressuring me.

I told him, “I can’t. I will not leave.”

[MH3] 

Telshe Yeshiva was the only yeshiva that was against college in the entire United States. There was no other yeshiva that spoke against college. And after being there three years, I wasn’t interested in college. But my brother was, and he wanted to go away.

My father spoke to me on the phone and said, “It’s only fair. He wants to go away. You should come home.”

I said, “I can’t learn in New York. Nobody learns in New York.”

My father said, “This is a yetzer hara. Az mir vil lernen ken mir lernen iber all[15].”

 

A Bochur’s Eitzah

I knew I had to do what my father said and leave Telshe Yeshiva. So I went to ask an eitzah by one of the eltere bochurim of Telshe Yeshiva.

He said, “You don’t want to go to New York, I can understand. If you can’t be in Telshe Yeshiva, go to Lakewood.”

I said, “They’re not going to take me in Lakewood. They don’t take 18-year-old bochurim in Lakewood. They take bochurim at 20 or 21. And besides that, I don’t know enough. How much do I know already?”

He told me, “I heard that they’re going to take in bochurim from Yeshiva University  this summer, just for the summer.”

The bochur who told me this became a very choshuva Yid, and I’ll say his name - Reb Mottel Weinberg zichrono l’vracha. When he was a bochur, he was a friend of mine, and he said, “If they’ll take YU bochurim for the summer, they’ll take you in also.”

So I said “That’s not such a compliment, you know.”

 

Changing Priorities

He pushed me hard, but I said, “I still don’t want to go.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You know why?” I said. “Because I have a plan. If I stay here, I’ll get semicha at 26 years old. I’m now 18. But when I’ll be 26, I’ll be after the highest shiur, and then I can learn for semicha. Then I’ll go out and be a marbitz Torah. I’ll become principal of a day school someplace, like they do in Telshe yeshiva.”

“Nu?” he said. “Go to Lakewood six months and you won’t want to have semicha.”

“That’s why I don’t want to go to Lakewood,” I said. “I know that’s going to happen.”

So he screamed at me. He said, “You want to do what you want to do. So in six months, you’ll be wanting to do what you want to do. You’ll want to not have semicha.”

I didn’t understand when he schreid at me. But I had no breirah. I came to Lakewood not because of Reb Aharon, not because of wanting to learn, but because of a personal family zach that my brother wanted to go out of town. He wanted to go to Chicago to university.

 

The Farher in Manhattan

I went to the Rosh Yeshiva, who lived on 93^rd Street then. I went for a farher to see if he’d let me into yeshiva. I went with another bochur from Telshe Yeshiva who also wanted to come. The Rosh Yeshiva talked to him first, and then he talked to me.

He said to me, “Nu? Zug epes[16]. A dvar Torah.”

I said, “I don’t have a dvar Torah.”

He said, “What did you learn?”
“I learned Baba Metzia.”

“What perek?”

“Perek Ha Sho’el[17].”

“Did you learn the sugya of Ta’ana Lo Chittin V’hodo lo B’sorim?[18]”

“Yeah,” I said.

“What’s the machlokes of the Rosh, the Ramban, and the Rishonim[19]?” “I don’t know,” I answered.

He turned around to his seforim, took out a Gemara Baba Metzia, and opened up to the Rosh. He said, “Read through this here and tell me what the machlokes is.”

I read it through, and said, “I can’t tell you. I don’t know.”
He turned around again, took out a Gemara Baba Kama, and turned to Perek Merubeh[20], to the sugya of Keren Ke’ein Shaganav[21] and said, “Learn through this piece of Gemara and this Tosfos and come to Lakewood for Shabbos and I’ll farher you.”

 

Preparing in Lakewood

I went home. Naturally, I didn’t have a Shas in my house. My father came to America before the First World War, right after his bar mitzvah. When he was in Europe, he knew 300 Gemara blatt baal peh so he could get into yeshiva. And he learned through Yoreh Deah. When he was bar mitzvah, he knew gantz kulu, kimat[22] all of Yoreh Deah. But when he came to America and the First World War broke out, he didn’t have a Shas. He had to send money to his family. He came alone.

So, m’mailah, I didn’t have a Shas. What should I do? Who was going to teach me the Gemara? I didn’t have anyone, although my father went to a blatt shiur.

I told my mother, “ The Rosh Yeshiva wants me to learn this Gemara, but I don’t know how to understand it, so I’m going to go to Lakewood today, on Wednesday, and get a bochur to teach me the Gemara. Maybe by Shabbos, I’ll know the Gemara and he’ll accept me.”

She gave me a few dollars and I went on the bus. When I got to Lakewood, I sat down with the Gemara. The first bochur that walked by, I asked, “What does this mean?”

He sat down and explained “It says Keren ke’ein sheganav.”

I thought “keren” was a horn, and “ke’in” meant an eye, and what’s sheganav[23] I couldn’t make any sense of it.

We started learning and the bochur told me, “It’s shain getun.[24]”

“Keep on going,” I said. “Teach me the whole piece.”

He taught me what he could, so I thanked him very much and I waited until the next bochur walked by.  Then I said to him, “What does this mean? What does that mean?”

Eventually, I finished the whole Gemara, and then I started on the Tosfos.

That was a Wednesday. I waited the whole Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Shabbos, Sunday morning - the whole week for the farher.

 

The Farher in Lakewood

Sunday afternoon, someone came over to me. He didn’t have a beard or anything. He mumbled under his breath, “Der tatteh hut gezukt az mir zul dir farherin[25].”

It was the Rosh Yeshiva’s son! I didn’t know Reb Schneur, but that’s who it was.  I didn’t give him too much derech eretz – I didn’t see that he had a beard or a long coat. I didn’t even stand up for him. I sat by the Gemara while he stood.

He asked, “What did you learn?”

I told him this Gemara and this Tosfos.

He said, “What is the machlokes between Ri and Rabbeinu Tam[26]?”

I looked in the Tosfos, and I said, “He said azoi, azoi, and azoi. V’omer Ri this and this.”

“And the Rabbeinu Tam? Vos zugt de Rabbeinu Tam?[27]”

I looked inside, and I told him Rabbeinu Tam.

“Where did you learn?” he asked.
“In Telshe Yeshiva.”

By the way, I was a metzuyan in Telshe. You should know that. That’s a fact.  I was skipped grade after grade. I moved all the way to the top very fast.

“Telshe Yeshiva?” he said. “Vos machst R’ Elya Meir Bloch[28]?”

I said, “He’s fine.”

“How many bochurim do they have?”

“120,” I said.

That was more than Lakewood.

“Der tatteh vet dir arein rufen”[29], he said.

I waited, I waited, I waited. Finally, a bochur came. I was just sitting by the Gemara. I had nothing to do. I didn’t figure out any other Gemaras. I didn’t learn a piece of Gemara on my own.

A bochur came and said, “The Rosh Yeshiva wants to see you.”

I  went into the Rosh Yeshiva and he said in bzeh lashon[30] “Mir darft farshtein azoi. Dur is altz eltere bachurim. Ir ken nisht kriben a chavrusa veil ir zeint nuch a yungere. An eletere iz andersht. Ir zeint nuch yung[31].”“Go away to Reb Elya Chazan in Torah V’Daas, and you’ll get a blatt shiur, and after a year, den vet mir redden[32]. We’ll find you a chavrusa.”

I was upset that he wasn’t letting me come to the yeshiva. So I said “Vos?” He repeated it again.

I walked out so upset because I had no place to learn. I would not learn in New York. It was known that you can’t learn in New York. That’s what they told us in Telshe Yeshiva. In Lakewood, I couldn’t learn either. So where was I going to learn? I had no place to learn.

I was very upset. I went back to the Gemara, and I started to cry and cry and cry. I must have cried a couple of hours until I couldn’t cry anymore.

Then finally, I said to myself - -it’s not nice to speak this way - but I decided I was going to give the Rosh Yeshiva a piece of my mind.

 

Fighting to Get In

I picked myself up from the Gemara and went back to the Rosh Yeshiva. I knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

 “De Rosh Yeshiva ir farshtay nisht,[33]” I said.

So he repeated, “Vos iz dur tzu farshtain? Altz eltere bochurim dur. Ir zeint nuch a yungere.[34]”

So I said, “De Rosh Yeshiva ir farshtay nisht[35].”

He probably thought that I didn’t understand Yiddish well, so he repeated himself two or three times. He kept on saying, “Go to R’ Elya Chazzan.” He kept on going.

 And I kept on saying, “De Rosh Yeshiva ir farshtay nisht.”

He said, “Vos iz du tzu farshtein[36]?”

So I said, “The Rosh Yeshiva hut gemacht a yeshiva in Lakewood, az mir zol nisht darfen lernen in New York. Un de Rosh Yeshiva shikt mir in New York lernin?[37]”
The Rosh Yeshiva looked at me and he smiled from ear to ear. “Oib azoi, bleib doh.”[38] Nor vus[39], your father will have to get a kollel yungerman to learn with you.”

“How much will it cost?” I asked.

“$30.00 a month,” he said.

That was to learn with me every day.  A dollar a day.

“$30.00 a month!” I said. “Mein tatteh is an ureman. Er hut nisht kein dreitzig dollar![40]”

“Vos? Vi ret min azoi? Chazal zogen mezonosav shel adam ketzuvin lo m’Rosh Hashana chutz m’hotzaos banav v’talmud Torah. Ver far a reid iz dos?[41]”

“Uber mein tatteh is fort an ureman. Er hut nisht.[42]”

“Uber vi megen redden?”[43] “Uber Tatteh hut nisht kein gelt!”[44]

He got up from the seat, “Uber, vi a red iz dos?![45]”

He got really excited. I just looked at him and said, “Ich vel fregen mein tatteh[46].”

I walked out and I went to the phone booth and I called up my father, and I told him the situation. “The Rosh Yeshiva is willing to accept me, but he wants me to take a kollel yungerman and pay him $30.00. I told him you don’t have the money. I told him you can’t afford it.”

“What do you mean?” my father said. “Vos heist[47]? If the Rosh Yeshiva says $30.00, it’s $30.00.”

 

The New Chavrusa

But I did not go back to the Rosh Yeshiva to tell him that my father was maskim. I did not. The next day I went to yeshiva and sat down with a Gemara.

All of the sudden a yid walked in and said to me, “The Rosh Yeshiva told me I should learn with you.”

I didn’t even know who he was.

He sat down and said, “Where are you holding?”

I showed him where.

He said, “Say the Gemara.”

“I can’t. I don’t know the Gemara.”

So he said one or two lines for me, and then told me,  “Now say it over.”  So I said it over.

Then, he said, “Now chazer it.”

And he sat there next to me. He was looking up the ceiling the whole time, just sitting quietly, while I was chazering.

A few days later, I went home for Shabbos to be with my parents. My brother was ready to go out of town.

I came back on Sunday. I walked in. My chavrusa looked at me and said, “Shalom. How was Shabbos?” And he smiled. For the first time that week, he smiled. He said, “How are your parents? Come lets learn.”

And I learned with him. About a week or two went by. He told me that he’s not learning with me anymore. He was going to Eretz Yisroel.

His name? Herschel Genauer zichrono tzaddik v’kadosh l’vracha[48], I learnt with Herschel Genauer. And then he was killed in Eretz Yisroel.

 

The Rosh Yeshiva’s Patience

I mutsched zich[49] I takkeh didn’t have chavrusas, I mutched zich and mutched zich to stay here. But the ikar is to understand from this a very important thing: how much patience the Rosh Yeshiva had to have to be able to hear, “I don’t have a dvar Torah. I don’t know the machlokes Rishonim, I can’t read it and I can’t understand it, and I can’t make out the Gemara, the Tosfos, the machlokes between Ri and Rabbeinu Tam.”  No one told a good report about me.

I felt I got in just because I said, “You made a yeshiva in Lakewood so people shouldn’t have to learn in New York.” That was why he accepted me. And he was able to be sovel such a thing.

 

The Importance of Bais Yaakov

Reb Boruch Kaplan told me that the Rosh Yeshiva told him that had it not been for Rebbetzin Kaplan, he would never have come to America. Why? B’emes, when he left Europe, he was planning to go to Eretz Yisroel. He was on a ship to Eretz Yisroel, and it docked in San Francisco to refuel.  The ship spent a couple of days there.

People came to the ship because they knew chashuva Yidden were there. They asked him, “Where are you going?”

And the Rosh Yeshiva told them, “I’m going to Eretz Yisroel.”

“Why don’t you stay in America?” they asked.

“What do I have in America?” he said. “I’ll be melamed dardeke[50] [MH4] here. Nisht far mir toigt es un nisht far de bachurim toigt es[51] that I should be a melamed dardeke here. There’s nobody who’s holding by learning epes. I’ll be a melamed dardeke, I’ll learn Chumash Rashi - Aleph-bais with children.”

[MH5] 

“No,” they told him. “In New York, there’s a Rebbetzin Kaplan who made a seminary so that girls now have a hashkafa that they’ll marry somebody who will want to stay in learning after the chasunah.”

When he heard that, he asked more about it, and decided, “Oib azoi, ich vel bleiben[52] here.”

Reb Boruch Kaplan told me that, but when I heard it, I asked him about the maaseh I told earlier – that Reb Aharon told the Brisker Rov that he was going to America. ”What do you mean he was going to Eretz Yisroel?” I asked.

We knew, and the Rosh Yeshiva always said over, and this is very important, that the reason he came to America, besides the fact that he threw a goral to go to America, but he had a mesorah through Reb Boruch Ber, who had a mesorah through Reb Chaim Volozhiner that the kibbutz galiyos would be in America where Torah vet zich oisboyen[53].

Reb Boruch Ber taught, “Why would Torah vet zich oisboyen[54] in America? Because the Yidden in America bought Torah with the hachzakas hatorah of European yeshivos.”

Kaminetz supported the havaya. I saw some Americaner gevirim support it. People gave to European yeshivos.

 The Rosh Yeshiva said, “They brought Torah – and m’mailah Torah vet zich oisboyen[55] – and that’s where it’s going to be the kibbutz galuyos.” So the Rosh Yeshiva, he’s going to America, that’s where he’s going to be.

I told this to Reb Boruch Kaplan, and he said he didn’t know. The Rosh Yeshiva told him differently. He was going to go to Eretz Yisroel.

So I said, “I’ll tell you. It’s not a steera. Why is it not a steera?  When he was by the Brisker Rov in Vilna, he was planning to go to America because he had a mesorah, but then his friends talked him out of it because what will he have from it. Then, he changed his mind again in San Francisco.”

The ikar vort[56] is that he came to America mamesh to nothing. He came to nothing. The yeshiva only grew tzu’bislach, tzu’bislach[57].

 

A Conversation with Yosef Tendler

I want to tell over something that happened right after the Rosh Yeshiva agreed to take me in. I walked out from the Rosh Yeshiva that day after he told me about mezonosav shel odom ketzuvin lo m’Rosh Hashanah[58], and I walked out into the hallway, and all of a sudden, a bochur was walking toward me and said, “Ohhh! Shalom Aleichem!”

This bochur was with me way back in Yeshivas Yaakov Yosef. His name is well-known.  It was Reb Yosef Tendler, the menahel in Ner Yisroel Yeshiva in Baltimore.

“Aleichem shalom,” I said.

“You know, you don’t sound good,” he told me. “What’s the matter?”
“Sure, I don’t sound good, “ I said. You know what just happened?”

He said, “No.”

I said, “I was just by the Rosh Yeshiva and he told me my father has to take a kollel yungerman to pay $30.00, and I told him my father doesn’t have, and he said, ‘mezonosav shel adam ketzuvin lo m’Rosh Hashana.’ How do you talk like this?”

“So what?” said this fellow, Tendler.

“What kind of thing is that?” I said. “On my father’s cheshbon, he’s going to throw at me a Chazal? My father doesn’t have the money!”

Tendler is a tall fellow, and he patted me on my shoulder and said, “When you’ll be here a couple of weeks, you’ll find out that a Chazal by that Yid is all there, it’s on your cheshbon, on your father’s cheshbon, on gantz Klal Yisroel’s cheshbon.”

Who is this Yosef Tendler? He was one of the boys from YU for the summer. And he stayed and he stayed and he stayed in Lakewood. That was Yosef Tendler. Moshe Tendler’s brother.

Just from touching Lakewood, that’s what he happened to him. You understand? He couldn’t go back to YU. He forgot about college. He forgot about anything he’d been interested in. That was the Rosh Yeshiva’s influence.

But I didn’t understand it. How you could throw a Chazal at someone’s cheshbon?

 

The Dorm Situation

After that, I told Tendler the problem I had with the dormitory. The fellow who took care of the dormitory was named Moshe Hirsch; he’s in Yerushalayim today. Moshe Hirsch gave out the linen and showed you where you’d sleep.

The place he showed me was a little, narrow room, and when I went inside that first time,  somebody was already sleeping in the bed there. There was only one bed, and someone was sleeping in it.

I told this to Moshe Hirsch, who said, “So sleep on the couch.”

I tried out the couch. It had a hole in it with springs sticking up.  I couldn’t sleep there, so I went back to Moshe Hirsch.

“Come, I’ll show you what to do,” he said.

 He took a piece of my linen, stuffed it into the hole, pushed the spring down, and said, “Now you can sleep there. Put the blanket down and you’ll sleep. But you can only sleep here until Sunday.”

“What’s going to be on Sunday?” I asked.

“This is the mashgiach’s room,” he told me. “Reb Nosson’s room. That’s his bed, and this is his couch. He’s coming back on Sunday. He goes in for Shabbos.”

So I said, “What’ll I do then?”

He said, “Come, I’ll show you.”

He took me to a very large room with two big beds. He says, “You’ll sleep here.”

I went over to the bed next to the window and started to open up the window.

“No,” he said, “you don’t sleep in that bed. That’s the Rebbetzin’s bed. You’ll sleep in this bed. This is the Rosh Yeshiva’s bed.”

He moved the bed away from the spot where he was standing and said, “You’ll sleep here, but you can only sleep here from Monday to Thursday. Then you’ll go back into the Mashgiach’s room. The Rosh Yeshiva goes away from Monday to Thursday, and Reb Nosson goes away from Thursday to Sunday, and you’ll go back and forth epes.”

That’s the way I was sleeping, back and forth from the Rosh Yeshiva’s bed to Reb Nosson’s bed. And that bochur who was sleeping there just happened to lay down there. And that’s the way it was done.

I told all this to Yosef Tendler.  “This is no way,” I said. “There are so many big rooms here.” That first building was a mansion. “Why are there only one or two beds in a room? What about double-deckers? I just came from Telshe yeshiva. They had double-deckers. There’s plenty of room! Why do I have to go back and forth?”

Tendler said, “When you’ll be here a couple of weeks, you’ll find out that this is not an army barracks. These are b’nei Torah over here. Kavod haTorah.”

A real maaseh. That means that this fellow who had just come from Yeshiva University had already learned about kavod haTorah and what’s called a chazal. And a chazal which is on your cheshbon too.

 

New Lessons about Bittul Torah

I remember listening to one of the Rosh Yeshiva’s schmuzen. This was when I came. This was in Elul zman, or maybe after Sukkos. I don’t remember, yet.

So he said that the Torah says, “V’shinantam l’vonecha.[59]” Chazal say “Sheyihiyu shgurim bificha. She’im yish’al adam davar echod al tigamgem vet’ane lo miyad.[60]”

I knew the posuk “v’shinantam l’vonecha.” I even knew the posuk from Chazal “Sheyihiyu shgurim bificha”. I learned mussar in Telshe yeshiva. We learned that.

“Vos shtait doh?[61]”, the Rosh Yeshiva said. “Sheyish’al adam[62].” It doesn’t say what kind of person. Even an adam gadol. Whose the adam? Anybody. If he’ll ask you davar echod[63], it doesn’t say what thing. He’ll ask just one thing. Afilu a favorfene sugya in Mishnayos Uktzin[64], al tigamgem vet’ane lo miyad.[65]

That means there’s a chiyuv of kol haTorah kulo – at tigamgem vet’ane lo miyad.[66]

I gave a jump in my seat. I’d been in yeshivas all my life. Nobody ever told me that I had to know kol haTorah kulo[67] in such a way that even the gadol hador will ask me a favorfene sugya in Mishnayos Uktzin, I’ll have to answer him right away.  Why hadn’t anybody ever told me that?

I was upset from listening to that. But I figured if I’d be upset, I wouldn’t hear the next thing, so I tried to listen into what the Rosh Yeshiva was saying. And he talked fast. And he didn’t repeat himself. And he didn’t say this with hispailos either.

A funny thing happened. He went vaiter and said, “After v’shinantam l’vonecha shtait v’dibarta bam[68]. Zuggen Chazal v’dibarta bam vilo b’devorim beteilim.[69]”

I knew that Chazal also. V’dibarta bam - vilo devorim beteilim.

“Vos shtait doh?” he asked. “?? b’dvar Hashem”

I gave another jump. Now two. Devarim beteilim is ?? b’dvar Hashem?  Why hadn’t anybody ever told me that? I’d heard mashgichim at plenty of schmuzen at Torah V’Daas and Telshe.

All of a sudden, he went vaiter. He was talking quietly. And then finally he said like this, “HaOisek b’divrei Torah V’posek b’dvar sicha, ma’achilin oso gachalei resomim[70].” So he said, “What kind of shvereh oinesh[71] is that? Why does he deserve such a shvereh oinesh?”

“There’s another Gemara which says ‘Mi she efshar b’yado l’aslok v’lo asak -  vos shtait in der ende fun posek. ‘V’kares tikares’”[72] 

Arba krisos.[73] I didn’t give a jump in my seat. Till now I thought chometz on Pesach is chayav in krisos,  arayos is chayav in krisos, but one who sh’efshar l’asok v’lo asaka is chayav b’krisos[74]? Why hadn’t anybody ever told me that? B’emes, the Rosh Yeshiva wasn’t mechadesh that. That’s what it says in Chazal. All he was doing was saying over Chazal. He wasn’t saying his eigener chiddushim. He was just learning up the Chazal the way es shtait[75].

And then he explained why the oinesh if your are oisek b’divrei Torah, v’posek b’divrei sicha, why is it machilin oso gachelei resamim?[76]   Because it’s such a chumradigge thing, it’s chayav krisos. So you get an oinesh it’s a harde aveirah [77].

I walked away from that and said, “Whoah! I now have a different dimension of what Torah is all about. I have a different understanding of the chumrah of bittul Torah, and the chumrah of devarim beteilim[78] like I’ve never heard in my life.”

And as I went on in learning, I continuously watched the Rosh Yeshiva. I used to sit in the seat in the middle of the bais medrash and I had a very good view of the Rosh Yeshiva. I was just constantly sit there and watch him. I saw how he davened. It was moirahdig.

And even though when I was a bochur I was mutching zich[79] with chavrusos, but we kept on going; we kept on going.

 

Shidduchim

There came a time where we started thinking about shidduchim, and somebody red one to me.

The Rosh Yeshiva called me in and said, “I heard that they red you a shidduch and that you don’t want to go. You’re not interested to see about that shidduch. Why don’t you want to go?”

“Because she’s very, very tall,” I said.

““Bai mir dos gradeh nisht kein chisurin[80]”, the Rosh Yeshiva said with a smile. The Rebbetzin was much, much taller than he was. And that he said with a smile. Then he said, “Leigt arein paper en der shich.[81]”

But he didn’t say that with a smile. He said that seriously.

Naturally, I didn’t do it because I was an American bochur. I was not interested in doing that. Anyway, as time went on, somebody red me a shidduch that was pretty close to the nigmar, and I went to the Rosh Yeshiva, and I told him that I’m holding by a shidduch that looks like it might be nigmar. “I have a question to ask you,” I said.

“What’s your question?”

“My father-in-law , the father of the meduberes[82]  has the same name as my name. The tzavoah of Reb Yehuda HaChossid says that you shouldn’t do such a shidduch.”

The Rosh Yeshiva said, “Er geit eich oishalten[83]?”

I said, “Yeah.”

He said, “You’re talking shailos. You’re talking shailos.”[84]

By the Rosh Yeshiva, everything messed zich[85] with Torah. But at the beginning when I told him “Ich halt bei nigmar zein a shidduch”[86], he says, “Mit vemen? Mit a Bais Yaakov?[87]”

“Yeah.”

“Mit a seminare?”[88]

“Yeah.”

“Ai R’ Boruch, R’ Boruch. Vos volt bnei Torah getun un Reb Boruch. Er iz nitzel gevoren al pi nes kidai tzu ton far bnei Torah.[89]”

By the Rosh Yeshiva, everything was mamesh min haShomayim[90]. This was important. He didn’t ask for the name. He was interested to know if she’d gone to seminary, because that meant that we would bleib by learning, and that’s why he came to America in the first place.

Then he said, “Er vet eich oishalten[91]?”

 

Getting By After the Chasunah

The Rosh Yeshiva was our mesader kiddushin at our wedding.

About three months after the chasunah, the Rosh Yeshiva called me over that he wanted to talk to me. Heyos that my father was niftar before the chasunah, I had asked the Rosh Yeshiva to talk to the mechutan about tzorchei hachasunah, tzorchei habayis[92], about furniture, the whole nadan.”

He said, “Yoh, yoh, zol er mir rufen.[93]”

So I told the kallah, “Tell your father that the Rosh Yeshiva wants to speak to him. He should call him.”

The Rosh Yeshiva never told me what he said, and neither did my father-in-law. But three months after the chasunah, the Rosh Yeshiva called me over. He said, “Zugt mir[94], how much is your father-in-law giving you?”

“He’s giving me eighteen dollars a week,” I said. “Seventy-five dollars a month.”

He gives a jump “Oy, aza tzaddik! Aza tzaddik! Aza ahavas haTorah! Mir hub utgeret asach veiniger! Aza mesirus nefesh for Torah! Er shikt zein zun in Philadelphia un er batzolt fulle schar limud. Hut er bakumen a raise, eier shver?[95]”

I said, “Vos[96]?”

“A heicher rung, a hecher rung?[97]”

“Er hot mir gezukt az er macht zibbetzig dollar a voch altz menahel fun Bais Yaakov. Hub ich em gezukt dos iz  kein gelt nisht. Er zol gein tzu de baalei batim from Bais Yaakov un zei zogen as ich hub geheisin az zei darfen em geben mer gelt![98] Hut er bakumen a hechere rung! Ah, aza tzadik, aza tzadik, aza ahavas haTorah![99]” He was mamesh shpringing that a Yid is moser nefesh for Torah.

And he was a yekkeh, my shver.

He was part of the Bais Yaakov in the East Bronx with R’ Moshe Bick. R’ Moshe Bick was in the Bronx. He was the Rosh Vaad HaChinuch[100]. Rav Avraham Edelman’s father, Lipa, was also on that Vaad Ha Chinuch.

This is the interest that the Rosh Yeshiva took to make sure that he was giving me according to what they spoke about.  He did it for yeder bochur, yeder yungerman, geven a eigener kind by him[101]. Not just that he did his job and didn’t care what happened afterward. He did care. This is the way it went on.

 

A Tzavoah

Right before my father was niftar, I was twenty years old. It was before my chasunah. I was married when I was about twenty-four and a half, twenty-five. So the Rosh Yeshiva called me in. He said they are making a new Yeshiva in Philadelphia. R’ Dov Schwartzman is starting it. He wanted me to be one of the six bochurim to start the shiur.

I went to call my father to ask him reshus. Should I go? I had to let him know. So, I called him and told him what the Rosh Yeshiva wanted.

“What are you calling about?” my father asked.

“I’m calling to find out what I should do,” I said.

“Vos heist[102]?” he said. “The Rosh Yeshiva said you should go, so it’s good for you to go. What kind of shailah is this? What are you calling me for?”

My father was niftar two weeks later. I considered that as a tzavoah from my father. Leave everything in the hands of the Rosh Yeshiva. Whatever he says is gut, un gut, un far gut[103]. So follow it. In everything from there on in, the Rosh Yeshiva became my father. It was mamesh like that. It was mamesh like that.

He was sandek of my son, and besides that, my oldest daughter came over at the hakafos to get a bracha. My oldest daughter is still in Lakewood and her husband is in kollel now, twenty years after their chasunah. (Tomer, Heshy Tomer’s younger brother.) This was the ibergegebenkeit[104] that the Rosh Yeshiva was so busy with everything. But he had moiradigge interest in aza zach.

 

Nursing the Rosh Yeshiva

Right before my chasunah, the Rosh Yeshiva had a car accident. He fell out of a car on the way to Lakewood from New York. It was icy, and he fell out of the car. It was 1958.

He came back to the yeshiva, and they brought him to a hospital in New York. He broke his shoulder. B’kitzur, he was in the hospital quite a while, and the bochurim took turns going to him.

Because he didn’t let nurses into the room, it was arranged that only the bochurim should be in the room, and if a nurse wanted to come in to give a thermometer or something, she would open the door and hand the thermometer to the bochur, and the bochur would give it over from the nurses.

The Rebbetzin was in the room, but you weren’t able to see her. There were drapes on the windows and she stood behind the drapes. And the bochurim came in and gave the Rosh Yeshiva whatever he needed and took care of him.

One day, I noticed that the drapes were moving, so I thought the window was open, letting a draft in, and it would be too cold. I asked the Rosh Yeshiva if I should close the window. I went over to move the drapes, and I saw the Rebbetzin there saying Tehillim. The window wasn’t open. It was the Rebbitzen shukkeling[105] and saying Tehillim.

One day, it was my turn to come to New York to be with the Rosh Yeshiva.  I went with another bochur, there were always two bochurim. He was sitting there learning something. At that time, after they made an examination of the Rosh Yeshiva, the doctors claimed that the Rosh Yeshiva had kidney stones, and they had to do serious procedures which were very painful. The Rosh Yeshiva held that he was not allowed to learn in that matzav because he had pipes going from him with mei raglayim[106] in them, and m’meila according to halacha he felt he can’t learn because he had no control.

On the day of my turn, he asked, “Do you have a Yiddish paper at home?”

“Yeah,” I said.

He said, “If you come back tomorrow, bring the Yiddish paper.”

He couldn’t learn, so he had to have something to occupy himself.

I brought the Yiddish paper, and he looked at the headline. Then he looked at another heading.  He tried another two or three pages for maybe a minute and then he said “Ach! Mir ken nisht kuken![107]”

Then he called me over to his bed and said, “Du zest vus vert oib mir davened nisht mit kavana? Lust men engantzen nisht davenen![108]”

He was not allowed to daven and he was in moiradegga tza’ar for those days. It was a very big tza’ar. Then he tells me, “Ruft arein Leibish.” [109]

Leibish was the other bochur. I brought him in. I walked out, I thought he wanted to talk to him or something. A few minutes later Leibish came running out.

He said, “Did you hear what the Rosh Yeshiva just told me?”

“What?” I said.

“The Rosh Yeshiva told me “Du zest vus vert oib mir davened nisht mit kavana? Men lust engantzen nisht davenen!”

I felt like what? The Rosh Yeshiva is telling me about his davening without kavanah?

But the Rosh Yeshiva was living a life that altz feirt zich with yiras shomayim.[110] This didn’t just happen. He didn’t just become sick. He didn’t just fall out of a car. But l’maaseh, it turned out that he didn’t have any stones, and it was all a mistake.

 

The Rosh Yeshiva’s Mazel Tov

The Rosh Yeshiva had to recuperate after the hospital, so instead of coming to Lakewood, he stayed by a family in Manhattan. We used to go there to the apartment where he was staying. After he recuperated a number of weeks, it came time for my chasunah.

He told me, “I’m not going to be able to be at the whole chasunah.”

Normally, he sat from the chuppah, the whole shittah. This time, he said, “I’m not going to be able to, but I’m going to be by the chuppah.”

Of course, I understood.

It was the first chasunah he attended after the accident. He was mesader kiddushin. Under the chuppah, naturally, everybody gave mazel tov. I went down to the yichud room, and in the yichud room, they take pictures. After all that was over, I went down to go back to the hall, and who was standing there by the elevator? The Rosh Yeshiva! He was waiting until I came down. He wanted to give me a mazel tov again and vintsch me un again a bracha [111] I don’t know how long he waited, standing by the elevator!

 A bochur in the yeshiva noticed that he was bentsching me, and this bochur called the photographer to take a picture of how he was holding me. The photographer was on the other side of the hall, and until he came back, he took a look and the Rosh Yeshiva was still holding me and bentsching me. He was bentsching and bentsching. R’ Nosson was in that picture too.

That picture was taken by Harry Trainer[MH6] . I met him a few years ago and told him that I have such a picture. Now, this is a maaseh from 1958. That’s more than 40 years ago.

If somebody looks at that picture, he sees the Rosh Yeshiva giving me mazel tov. But do you understand what’s behind the picture? He didn’t have the kochos to say mazel tov and here he already gave me mazel tov, and he stood such a long time to wait until I came down. Because yeder kind, this was v’shinantam levonecha eilu hatalmidim[112]. And he was standing there and wishing me mazel tov.”

Harry Trainer said, “You have to give me that picture. I’ll blow it up and you’ll hang it up in your dining room.”

I said, “Okay, you got it!.”

This picture is just to veis the care of the Rosh Yeshiva.

Anyway, the end of the story is that every little thing, we didn’t budge without the Rosh Yeshiva’s approval. 

 

Help Making Decisions

After I was married a few years, we went to him with a question about a new job for my wife.  She had a job in the cheder, but not the cheder that’s there now. It was called “the cheder” and it was around before the big cheder opened up She could get two dollars more a week in the dayschool and I asked the Rosh Yeshiva, “Should she switch the job or not?”

The Rosh Yeshiva listened and said, “Nein. She shouldn’t switch.”

I told the Rosh Yeshiva it was a few dollars more. I had a cheshbon of forty dollars  and twenty dollars went for the babysitter. She came home with twenty dollars out of the forty dollars which was the salary.

“It’s hard for my shver to give me money,” I said. It was a few years after the chasunah. It was difficult. So I said, “This will make it easier. She’ll have a few more dollars.”

“The shver told you that it’s difficult?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Then if he didn’t tell you so, it’s not your eisek. ?? zul er geben.[113] It’s not your business.”

Everything was geboit on the zchus of the Torah, and the hachzakas haTorah. Every prat. Should she change the job? Vos nisht[114]? He was always ready to answer. He never told you to come back later.

 

An Order to Go to Boston

When I was in kollel close to five years, he called me in and said to me, “I want you to go say a shiur in Boston.”

R’ Laibel Heiman was then the head of the Yeshiva and he came and told the Rosh Yeshiva, the Yeshiva is growing and he needs an older person. So the Rosh Yeshiva said to me “I can’t send bochurim to say the shiurim. He needs an older person so I want you to go.”

But I didn’t want to go, and I told the Rosh Yeshiva so. “I’m starting menachos[115] this zman. It’s the best zman I’ve had since I’m here. I have already two children – a boy and a girl. I have menuchas hanefesh. This is the best zman. I don’t want to go.” 

“Come in ” he told me. I saw he was very shtark. “You’ve gotta go.”

I saw that he wanted it very much, so I says, “You know what? I’ll go and if it will be all right for me, I’ll stay.”

I wanted to come back to kollel, but back then, if you left the kollel, it was not shayach to go back. Once you were out, you were out.

So I told him, “I’ll go with this t’nai: that I should be able to come back to kollel if I want.” I didn’t feel it was good for me to be there[MH7] .

“Nein,” he told me. “Geit un tnei[116] because I know if you go with such a t’nai, you’ll be back here for Aseres Yemai Teshuva.”

This was Rosh Chodesh Elul.

“I know you’ll be back,” he said. “Go without a t’nai.”

Since the Rosh Yeshiva said to go without a t’nai, I went without a t’nai. But I came back for Aseres Yemai Teshuva. There was no way I was going to stay. It wasn’t for me. I had twenty reasons why I couldn’t.

The Rosh Yeshiva called me in again on Chol HaMoed Sukkos. I left my wife. I wanted to take my kids on a Chol HaMoed trip. I told them, “I’ll be right back. I just want to finish with the Rosh Yeshiva.”

So I went to the Rosh Yeshiva and said, “Rosh Yeshiva, it’s not for me.”

I gave him all twenty of my reasons, and he sat and listened. I felt bad, bad. In the middle, I gave myself a chap. The Rosh Yeshiva wanted me to go, so I had to chutch excuse myself why I was being so adamant about it.

So I said, “Rosh Yeshiva, you should moichel me why I’m being like this. Avade, I don’t mean to drei zoch ois[117], but I just wanted to give the matzev to the Rosh Yeshiva clearly. Avade if the Rosh Yeshiva will tell me to go, “Oib de Rosh Yeshiva vet mir zugen furen, vet ich gein. Uber, l’daiti ich halt nisht by dem.[118] [MH8] ”

When I finished that sentence, he said, “Fur.[119][MH9] ”

I thought the world was coming to an end.

But, if the Rosh Yeshiva says you go, you go. Der Rosh Yeshiva zugt[120]. There’s no pressure or anything like that.

Instead of going on a Chol Hamoed trip, I went and told my family that I’ll be taking a plane to Boston.

I left my family. I went first by myself to find an apartment, and I bentsched every single day. Five weeks later, the Rosh Yeshiva was niftar. I left to Boston on Isru Chag Sukkos. The Rosh Yeshiva went to New York the same day, and he never came back to yeshiva. That was mamesh like pil’ei pla’im[121][MH10] . It was the last time I spoke to the Rosh Yeshiva, and he told me go.

After that I bentsched every single day that he told me to go. I shtaiged so much there in Boston for those five years. I had the highest shiur. M’talmidei yoser m’kulam[122]. I was living in learning. It was moirahdig. I had a velt of  talmidim.

R’ Malkiel Kotler is a talmid of mine from Boston.

The Rosh Yeshiva hut aroishehat[123] everybody.

 

The Levaya

I went back for the levaya of the Rosh Yeshiva. You have to understand: I traveled one night from Boston - motzai Shabbos - to be by the levaya Sunday morning. I tell you, I cried more for the Rosh Yeshiva than for my own father. Everybody was going around here like they were the boss. They were sitting on the floor. “What’s going to be now without the Rosh Yeshiva?” There were guys who went around with ?? for three months. I’m not going to be??.

That’s the way the Rosh Yeshiva was. He was a mechayev. He took care of all the different stages. The eltere bochurim, through their chasunahs. So many maasehs I can tell you that I had with the Rosh Yeshiva.   

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