Character Study – Judge William H. Wallace

Published August 12, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Judge William H. Wallace
Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

With his elbow on the counter, he [Arel] rested his chin on his hand which he used to cover his left cheek. He waved his other hand over an official looking sheet of paper in front of him.

“What’s that?” Havah asked.

“It’s an indictment from His Honor Judge Wallace. I could go to prison.”

“What crime did you commit?”

“I’ve opened my shop on Sunday instead of Saturday.”

“And this is a crime?”

“According to him and his Sunday labor law, we’re required to observe the Christian Sabbath or pay a penalty. We may open our shops but if we sell anything we are in violation.”

“I don’t understand this man. Ulrich and Dr. Florin call themselves Christians and even go to church on Sunday. They are kind and gentle—nothing like that judge.”

A lump formed in the pit of Havah’s stomach. “Arel, you don’t suppose…” She envisioned the police smashing the window. They beat Arel with their clubs while he pled for mercy. Next they came after Rachel.

Havah shook off her grisly daydream and remembered her chance meeting with President Roosevelt at Ellis Island. Imagine—the ruler of the United States taking the time so speak with a Jewish peasant girl from Moldavia. Such a man would never allow another Kishinev or Odessa to happen in his great country.

She took the indictment in her hand and crumpled it in her fist. “Every ass likes to hear himself bray.”

Taken from As One Must, One Can (2016)

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

***

In this last book of the trilogy, Havah finds a formidable nemesis in Judge William H. Wallace who was described by the Kansas City newspapers as a crusader for the Sunday Blue Law. During his tenure as criminal court judge, he handed out over a reported 7,000 indictments. At odd times his deputies arrested cigar dealers, druggists and even music conductors in the midst of performances if they fell on Sunday. No one was exempt.

One article quotes him as referring to the Jews as evil for their observance of Sunday on Saturday. It was only natural for Havah to fear a pogrom in her new country. She had experienced Antisemitism at its worst and recognized the signs.

***

This article, as written below, appeared in The Kansas City Journal, October 3, 1908

NOW HE TARGETS THE JEWS.

Judge Wallace Says Jews Must Keep

Their Stores Closed on Sunday.

Not only is Judge Wallace going after the theater managers, pool hall proprietors, barber and tobacco dealers, but from now on his righteous wrath is to be visited upon the wicked citizens of Jewish extraction who keep their second hand clothing stores open on Sunday.
According to his special prosecutor it makes no difference to Judge Wallace that the religious belief of these dealers does cause them to observe Saturday as the Sabbath and that their places of business are tightly closed that day — they will be prosecuted just as vigorously if they open on Sunday.
When the Wallace Sunday closing crusade was started a statement was authorized by the court to the effect that provided the Jews of the city observed Saturday as Sunday they would be exempt from prosecution, but it is now stated that there has been a misconception as to this statement. Why the misconception has not been corrected before does not yet appear.
“Under the law,” said the court’s spokesman, “if the Jews observe Saturday as Sunday they are exempt from prosecution so far as labor is concerned, that is, they may work on Sunday; but this exemption does not allow them to sell goods and they are to be prosecuted if they do. Already two indictments for this offense have been found by the grand jury and the offenders will appear in court the first of next week.”
Therefore, if the Jew merchants of the city are so disposed, they may keep their stores open on Sunday, but if they sell anything the heavy hand of the law will be laid upon them.
The explanation of the law as interpreted by Judge Wallace in this matter does not include a clear view of the fine distinction between what is called “work” and selling second-hand clothes.
That this new interpretation of the law will work a distinct hardship on the Jew dealer whose religious scruples will not allow him to do business on Saturday goes without saying for it effectually shuts him off from selling his goods on two days out of seven.
“I think the Sunday law will be pretty generally observed tomorrow,” said the special prosecutor. “In fact, I think 98 per cent of the places which have heretofore been in the habit of doing business on Sunday will be found closed. The grand jury will proceed with its work Monday morning, at which time the rest of the theater managers whom we did not have time to arraign this week will be brought into court.

***

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Note: If you’ve read and enjoyed either or both of my books, please leave a review on Amazon.com and any of the other sites. I ask for Amazon primarily because of the scope of influence. Thank you.

Shalom,

Rochelle

Once Upon A Time

Published August 4, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Twelve years ago I began a journey. I really had no idea where it would lead, I simply put one foot in front of the other and wrote. PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME began as an exploration of my own Eastern European background and Polish roots. I quickly detoured and ended up in Kishinev, Moldova, the scene of the first internationally recognized pogrom. This is where I met Havah who took my hand and told me her story.

When our journey began, I had a dream and rudimentary knowledge of how to put my thoughts into words. Along the pathway I had the good fortune of meeting those who guided me to workshops, conferences and critique groups to learn the craft.

When I think of those who wrote their manuscripts in longhand or on a typewriter, I’m grateful for the such wonderful tools as backspace and copy and paste. Without which my novels might never have happened.

Havah Cohen Gitterman at her writing desk. Original artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

My paternal grandmother, Miriam Reuben Wisoff who was a published poet.

Wonder of wonders, the dream that I considered a lofty one has been realized and I have two novels in print and one on the way. Many thanks go out to my agent, Jeanie Loiaconao who believed in Havah and worked hard to find a home for her at Argus Books.

So begins the next leg of the journey. Marketing. Book Signings, interviews and social media are all part of the modern world of marketing. The author must become the promoter.

Having said all that, I come to conclusion of this blog post. One thing that sells a book is a great review. Goodreads, Barnes and Noble and Amazon are good places. Currently PLEASE SAY KADDISH has 48 reviews on Amazon and FROM SILT AND ASHES, 9.

If you’ve read and enjoyed (naturally I hope for positive reviews) please consider taking a few minutes to leave a review. This author humbly thanks you in advance.

Note: For overseas friends, please copy your comments into Amazon.com in addition to leaving them on the UK or other sites. I’m not sure why this doesn’t carry over. I think it should.

HERE

HERE

COMING SOON!

27 May 2016

Published May 25, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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Email me at runtshell@gmail.com.

The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette. This week the photo is one of mine.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Historical Fiction/Teaser

Not exactly an excerpt from FROM SILT AND ASHES

Word Count: 99

BOTHER IN LAW

Quinnon’s drunken accusations reprised like a canon in Ulrich’s head. How could Quinnon accuse his own sister of murder? No one could deny she had a fiery temper—but murder? Surely not!

Ulrich stood on the ship’s deck beside her. The moon’s reflections flickered on the waves like radiant sea creatures. A salt laden breeze ruffled his hair and chilled him through his thin shirt. Despite his raging mind, he relished the cool ocean spray on his face.

Catherine leaned her head on his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Ulrich?”

“I have to know. Did you kill your son?”

“Yes.”

ULRICH DIETRICH
Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

CATHERINE DIETRICH
Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

QUINNON FLANNERY
Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

COMING SOON!

Character Study-Sol Mayer

Published April 28, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sol Mayer was born in Moldavia. When he was a child he moved to Poland with his parents who became successful shop owners. There he met and married his wife Zelda. Together, they immigrated to America where he owns Mayfair, a profitable dry goods store in Kansas City.

By most standards the Mayers are wealthy. While Zelda enjoys all that money affords and is wont to put on airs, Sol never forgets his humble shtetl beginnings. Although he owns a mansion on Quality Hill, he would be happy in a shanty as long as he had his wife and daughter, Wendy, at his side. He is known by the community for fairness, generosity and a quick wit.

***

In the following scene, Havah and Arel’s daughter Rachel is not quite two years old.

The long narrow shop smelled of leather, licorice, and chocolate, but for the most part, it reeked of Sol’s cigars. Havah moved between rows of shelves filled with dolls, toy trains and stacks of canned food until she found the tooth powder.

Behind the counter Sol Mayer smiled at her, his cigar clenched between his teeth. Smoke tendrils framed his bulldog jowls. He took a peppermint stick from a glass jar and held it out to Rachel who wriggled in her pram.

“Looks like the little maideleh needs one of these.”

“What she really needs is an n-a-p. But c-a-n-d-y might keep her quiet for a while.” Havah opened her coin purse.

“Put your money away, Mrs. Gitterman. My treat.” Sol walked around the counter and knelt. He handed the candy to Rachel who popped the tip of it into her mouth.

“What do you say to the nice man, Rukhel Shvester?” Havah snapped her purse clasp shut.

“Senk oo.”

“Amazing!” Sol patted the child’s head. “Wendy didn’t start talking until she was almost three. Of course she hasn’t stopped to take a breath since. Just like her mother.” He brushed his hand over his balding head and winked at her. “I had a full head of hair when I married Zelda.”

~~Taken from From Silt and Ashes

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

***

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29 April 2016

Published April 27, 2016 by rochellewisoff

KUDOS TO OUR RESIDENT AWARD WINNER SANDRA CROOK

Click Here to read more!

Best wishes go out to our friend CEAYR and hopes that he’ll be pain free soon.

The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.

PHOTO PROMPT © Mary Shipman

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

IKH HOB DIKH TSUFIL LIB*

Beryl’s wealthy uncle paid his way to America to study medicine in exchange for help in his store. The long narrow shop smelled of leather, licorice, and chocolate, but mostly, it reeked of Uncle Sol’s cigars.

“Did you leave a sweetheart in Moldavia, Beryl?”

“Yes sir.”

“Say the word and I’ll bring her over.”

***

“Beryl, don’t go. I’ll die of a broken heart.”

“I’ll come back for you, Havah.”

***

“She perished in a pogrom four years ago.”

Sol stopped to wait on a young mother with her child.

“Beryl, meet Mrs. Gitterman from Moldavia.”

Beryl’s heart thundered her name. “Havah!”

*I Love You Too Much

Just for fun an updated traditional Yiddish melody if you’re in the mood. 😉

15 April 2016

Published April 13, 2016 by rochellewisoff

The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.

PHOTO PROMPT © Kent Bonham

***************************************NOTICE****************************************************************************

Dear Friday Fictioneers,

Our fellow fictioneer CEAYR asked that I extend his apologies for his lack of participation of late. While he doesn’t mean to be rude, our friend is dealing with physical issues that prevent him from being more involved.

Thank you for understanding.

Shalom,

Rochelle

*******************************************************************************************************************************

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Genre: Fact and Fiction

Word Count: 100

SOURCE OF KNOWLEDGE

“‘…The taller officer, an imposing presence with dark skin, fascinated Havah. Although she had read about them in Professor Dietrich’s books about Africa and American history, she had never met a Negro face to face.’”

“What year does your book take place?”

“1904.”

“I hate to burst your bubble,” says my fellow writer with smug conviction. “I realize it’s historical fiction but I seriously doubt there would’ve been a black officer back then.”

I whip out my Kansas City history book and point to a photo of uniformed Lafayette Tillman on horseback. “Second one on the KC force. Next question.”

.

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/11/10/character-study-lafayette-a-tillman/

Character Study – Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor

Published March 6, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Felds

“Now, where was I? Your education…Frederic Chopin.” Ulrich cleared his throat and poised his hands over the keys. “He was one of the world’s greatest composers. His life was short but his influence great. Nocturne in C-sharp Minor was my Valerica’s favorite. Her life was also short. She said this piece took her to far off places. Close your eyes and see where it takes you.”

From the first resounding chords a flood of emotion flowed through Havah like a river current. In a moment she was both callow child, alive with anticipation, and wizened matron, bone weary and full of years. Her mother’s voice lulled and comforted her with a song about raisins and almonds. She saw her father’s face, half illuminated by candle flame as he poured over volume after volume of Talmud. Arel approached from the shadows, tall and thin. His gray eyes devoured her. His tender lips kissed her.

~~From Please Say Kaddish for Me

Valerica Dietrich © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Frederic Chopin’s Nocturne in C Sharp Minor soothed Havah’s jangled nerves. The ivory keys were smooth and comforting under her fingertips. Although she would never be a pianist of Ulrich’s caliber she played well enough to entertain an audience of one. Closing her eyes, she relished a soft breeze carrying the scents of daffodil and hyacinth through the open window.

Havah Cohen Gitterman

~~From From Silt and Ashes

Arel Gitterman – Original Artwork – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Letting the strains of Chopin’s Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor waft over her, Shayndel sat in the rocking chair beside the piano with Tikvah asleep on her lap. While Shayndel did not know many musical pieces by name like her sister-in-law she could always recognize this one. When Havah was sad or in pain this would be the piece she chose to play.

~~From As One Must, One Can (2016)

Shayndel Abromovich-Original artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

While not a person or an animal, a piece of classical music becomes something of a friend and companion to Havah. Chopin’s Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor comforts her when reality becomes too much to handle.

I fell in love with this piece and Chopin’s music when I saw the movie The Pianist. It’s haunting, ethereal beauty transports this author to other places so it seemed only natural it would do the same for Havah.

Unlike the author, Havah has latent musical talent that Ulrich is only too happy to nurture. While he tries to steer her to something simpler for a beginner, she is determined to learn how to play the nocturne.

I hope you’ll take the time to not only read my excerpts but also to enjoy the music.

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Character Study – Mendel and David Cohen

Published February 8, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Although Havah’s older brothers, Mendel and David Cohen, perished at the beginning of Please Say Kaddish for Me, they are ever alive in her heart. Two very different personalities, Havah adored them both. Her memories of them are a constant thread throughout Please Say Kaddish for Me, From Silt and Ashes, and the imminent third novel in the trilogy, As One Must One Can.

Her eldest brother, Mendel, eight years her senior, wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps as a rabbi.

***

By the tender age of twelve, Havah had developed the attributes of a young woman. Despite her disappointed protests, her father agreed with her teacher that her Heder education should come to an end. The boys would never learn Holy writ with such a comely distraction.

Her brother Mendel became her lamed, her teacher. While she missed her classmates’ challenges, she enjoyed mornings with Mendel and flourished under his tutelage. A strict teacher, he never allowed her any leeway because of her gender or kinship.

~~Taken from From Silt and Ashes

***

David, who was two years younger than Mendel, was a gifted artist. In Please Say Kaddish for Me, Havah tells Shayndel that he could paint a flower so real that you would swear you could smell its fragrance.

David was the mischievous brother who mercilessly teased his little sister. She regrets that shortly before his murder, they had quarreled.

***

With a suppressed sigh she covered the braided loaves with clean towels and set them on the back of the stove to rise. “The last time I baked Hollah, I couldn’t put raisins in it because my brother David ate all of them. I wish I hadn’t gotten so mad. I said horrid things.”

“Were they the last words you spoke to him?” Fruma Ya’el unfolded a linen tablecloth, snapping it so it billowed and dropped to cover the table.

“No.” Gathering the bowls and utensils, Havah hobbled to the sink. “I can still see him with Mama’s clean dish towel over his head, walking bent over. He sang all raspy like an old lady, too. ‘Little Bubbe Fuss Bucket. All astir over a raisin. A raisin. A shriveled little raisin. Oy, yoy, yoy.’”

She took a kettle of hot water from the stove and poured it over the dishes. “I could never stay mad at him. If only I’d known—”

Gittel grabbed a dish towel. “Would you have done anything differently?”

A soap bubble floated up from the water. Havah popped it with her finger. “No.”

~~Taken from Please Say Kaddish for Me

***

Each night of Hanukkah, Havah and her brothers took turns lighting the candles. Papa led the recitation of the blessings. To this day, when she heard distant thunder Havah swore it was Papa’s resonant voice chanting prayers in heaven.

One year, her brother David, then twelve, ate so many macaroons he spent half the night in the outhouse. The next morning, fourteen-year-old Mendel, always the teacher, seized the opportunity to expound on the evils of gluttony. David’s green-tinged cheeks flushed while six-year-old Havah giggled into her napkin.

~~Taken from As One Must One Can (2016)

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

***

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Character Study – Rabbi Shimon and Miriam Cohen

Published January 24, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Out of the corner of her eye she [Havah] saw her mother creep through the doorway and inch toward the bed with a wooden rolling pin high over her head. She slammed it down on the back of the man’s head. With a sudden jerk and a grunt he released Havah. He rolled off her and fell to the floor unconscious.

She sat up, clutching a pillow and stared down at him. Blood pooled under his head and seeped into the cracks between the floor boards. This had to be a dream. In the morning Papa would wink at her over breakfast and assure her it had all been a horrendous nightmare.

Her mother yanked her hand, dragged her from the bed and held her for a moment, her tears hot on Havah’s neck.

“Hurry, Havah. May the God of Israel go with you.” Taking Havah’s face between her hands her mother kissed her forehead.

“But Mama—”

Tugging Havah’s arm, her mother dragged her to the back door of the house and shoved her out. “No arguing. Go!”

Heart thumping, she ran. Thick smoke stung her eyes and burned her throat. She stopped and turned to look one last time. The blazing synagogue crumbled to the ground.

“No, Havah, don’t look back!”

~~Taken from Please Say Kaddish for Me by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Heder teacher’s face turned crimson. He narrowed his eyes and glared at five-year-old Havah as if she were a piglet about to be dumped on his doorstep. Then he clenched his tobacco-stained teeth and spat a brown glob on the doorstep.

Up until this moment she had been excited to learn to read the Torah, the words that came from Adoshem’s own mouth. Huddled against Papa’s shoulder she hid her eyes in his coat folds.

“You can’t be serious, Rabbi Shimon. She’s a girl.”

“So she is.” Papa’s arm tightened around her. “My daughter’s mind is every whit as keen as her brother Mendel’s.”

“To be certain she’s a bright one, and one day she’ll be a most excellent wife and mother. Perhaps she’ll even marry a rabbi herself but, Rebbe, to come to Heder with boys? It’s not right.”

“Where does the Torah say it’s wrong for a girl to learn?”

“Rabbi Ben Hyrcanus clearly stated in the Talmud that to teach a daughter Torah is tiflut, obscenity. And did he not also say that the words of the Torah should be burned rather than be entrusted to a woman? Rabbi, you of all people should know this.”

“As far as I’m concerned it’s opinion and rubbish! Didn’t the prophet Yo’el write ‘your sons and daughters shall prophecy’? Miriam and Deborah—were they not judges in Israel?”

“You win, Rebbe.”

“I always do.”

~~Taken from From Silt and Ashes by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

Until the pogrom that took them from her, Havah’s parents, Rabbi Shimon and Miriam Cohen were the two most important people her life.

Not one to be bound by law and traditions, Rabbi Cohen relied more on Torah than Midrash, the rabbinic commentaries. When questioned, he was quick to argue that the former was the irrefutable word of God while the latter was merely opinion and conjecture. He encouraged his daughter and his wife, if they so desired, to study the Holy Word.

Miriam was a gentle and loving wife who kept a clean, Kosher home. She considered her greatest treasures to be her husband, her two sons and her daughter.

Havah adored her parents and her memories of them are a constant thread throughout the series. Even though she was only sixteen when they died, their words of wisdom are always there to guide her.

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Character Study – Valerica Dietrich

Published January 15, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Although she [Havah] had dusted it many times, a faded photograph in a silver frame caught her attention. A woman with pale curls around her face smiled at her from under a lace bridal veil. She lifted the picture from the table beside the piano.

“What was she like?”

“My Valerica.” He took the picture from her. Then, holding it to his chest, he propped an elbow on the piano and rested his head on his hand. “Kolyah introduced us.”

“Dr. Nikolai?”

“She was his wife’s best friend. Do you believe in love at first sight, Havah?”

Not waiting for an answer, he continued. His spirit seemed to travel to a distant time and place. Tears shimmered in his eyes. “Valerica Dietrich. She was always the picture of fashion. But, if you ask me, she could’ve worn flour sacks and still have turned heads.

~~From Please Say Kaddish for Me

“Have you heard from your professor?”

“I got a letter this morning.” Havah took an envelope from her pocket. “How is he?”

“He’s so lonesome. Oh, he doesn’t say so, but I can tell by the way he talks about his wife and how much he misses her. She’s been gone thirteen years. It’s a pity he never remarried.”

~~From From Silt and Ashes

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

It was for his Romanian wife, Valerica that Ulrich moved to Kishinev, Moldova. Her death in childbirth dealt him a terrible blow from which he has never recovered. In Please Say Kaddish for Me, to keep her memory alive, Ulrich still has all of her belongings and refuses to sell the house they shared.

However, after experiencing anti-Semitic oppression and the carnage of the pogrom, he can no longer bear to remain in Kishinev.

As From Silt and Ashes opens he has sold the house and moved to London where he teaches at the Royal Academy of Music. Valerica’s wedding photo is ever by his piano for, as he’s told Havah, “She had music in her eyes.”

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