Witness to a Savage Time: Second Edition

By Marc Jordan Ben-Meir

Marc Ben-Meir is an award winning historian, author, and historical researcher. His awards include the Thomas Alva Edison Spirit of Edison Award for excellence in research and education. He was also awarded the Jefferson Davis Gold Medal for excellence in Historical Research as well as the Judah Phillip Benjamin award for his contributions to humanity by the United Daughters of the Confederacy. Ben-Meir had completed four university degrees including a Ph.D. in Psychology and an adjunct professorship. He also graduated from seminary in New York and was ordained as a rabbi. He is married to His sweetheart Tina and is the father of three sons and seven grandchildren. The Ben-Meirs live in Ft. Worth, Texas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483695860

Marc Jordan Ben-Meir

Marc Ben-Meir is an award winning historian, author, and historical researcher. His awards include the Thomas Alva Edison “Spirit of Edison” Award for excellence in research and education. He was also awarded the Jefferson Davis Gold Medal for excellence in Historical Research as well as the Judah Phillip Benjamin award for his contributions to humanity by the United Daughters of the Confederacy. Ben-Meir had completed four university degrees including a Ph.D. in Psychology and an adjunct professorship. He also graduated from seminary in New York and was ordained as a rabbi. He is married to His sweetheart Tina and is the father of three sons and seven grandchildren. The Ben-Meir’s live in Ft. Worth, Texas.

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Copyright © 2013 by Marc Jordan Ben-Meir.

ISBN:      Softcover         978-1-4836-9585-3

                Ebook             978-1-4836-9586-0

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Rev. date: 09/11/2013

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CONTENTS

DEDICATION

THE DISPERSION

AD 69

THE MEN

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

THE WAR

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

DAVID

SOL

REUNION

AFTER THOUGHTS

By the rivers of Babylon

There we sat down

And yea we wept

when we remembered Zion.

There on the poplars

We hanged up our harps

For our captors bad us "sing us a song

of Zion."

How can we sing a song of the Lord

In a foreign land?

If I forget thee, oh Jerusalem,

May my right hand wither,

may my tongue cleave to

The roof of my mouth,

If I put not Jerusalem

above my greatest joy.

The Holy Bible

Psalm 137 1-6

DEDICATION

To my grandparents the Fox’s and the Friedman’s as well as my parents Murray and Shirley Friedman. My past.

To Naphtali, Dr. Ron, and Jonathan Ben-Meir; my sons who carry my name into the future.

To my step-sons Chris and Dan.

Aaron and Levi Ben-Meir, Arianna Sophia Ben-Meir, Aidan Fox Ben-Meir, Ellen Marie, Katy and Mary White, my grandchildren.

My brother Stan Berman and his lovely wife Diane.

To the memory of those who fought for what they believed in—be it North or South.

And, most of all to my beloved wife Tina who makes my life worth living.

Also by Marc Ben-Meir

Concepts of Prisoner Rehabilitation; a Scholarly Research Work. Worth Publishing, 1992

The Sons of Joshua, the Story of the Jewish Contribution to the Confederacy. 2012, Xlibris Publishi

With thanks to

DOUG GARNETT

For coming up with the title to this story

And

DAVE ROUTZON for his help with the editing

I will make you into a great nation

And I will bless you;

I will make your name great,

And you will be a blessing.

I will bless those who bless you,

And whoever curses you will I curse.

And all the people on the earth

will be blessed through you.

Genesis 12:2-

THE DISPERSION

AD 69

R OME WAS ALWAYS in turmoil. While easily utilizing its legions to capture and subjugate the known world, internal infighting and politics was destroying the empire from within.

Titus Flavius was a very capable field commander. With the death of the emperor Nero in the year 68, the time of The Four Emperors overshadowed Pax Romana, the peace of the Roman Empire. Eventually, Titus’ father, general Vespasian Flavius, was declared emperor on July 1st, 69 AD and was recalled from fighting the Judean Wars by the senate. He returned to an explosive Rome and donned the purple of Caesar. Vaspasious Flavius commanded his son, Titus Flavius Vespasianus to capture the renegade Jews in Jerusalem and burn the city to the ground. To capture all of the jewels, the gold, the silver, and anything of value, and bring them back to Rome. But, most importantly, capture the Jews and sell them into slavery so they may never again raise a hand against Rome.

In the year 70 AD Titus’ legions had finally surrounded the old city of Jerusalem with the fifth, tenth, and twelfth legions. The fifteenth legion soon joined the fray bringing the total to 60,000 battle hardened troops to throw against the starving Jews in the old city. Titus laid siege to the old city walls and the temple within, holy to the Jews. After a hard fight lasting 47 days, Titus and his legions destroyed the Jewish rebels and put the city to the torch.

The defending Jews also had their political infighting. The Jews were split into two major factions: The Sicarii (Those of the knife) led by Shimon Bar-Giora and the Zealots led by John of Gischala. Both were captured when the city was eventually overrun by the conquering Romans. Those Jew’s who survived and weren’t immediately enslaved, fled the land to various locations around the Mediterranean. To honor Titus’ victory, Rome minted a coin with Titus’ image on one side and the words Judea Capta (Judah captured) in a base relief surrounding an image of a Roman soldier standing over a kneeling Jew on the obverse.

A small number of Jewish Zealots led by Eleazer Ben-Yair, managed to slip though the Roman lines and fled southward to the Judean desert and there to the Herodian fortress of Masada. There to await the mighty legions of Rome.

Masada stands 990 feet high in the east and drops off into the Dead Sea. The western end stands 220 feet above the surrounding terrain. All of the approaches were over very difficult terrain. Masada was constructed by King Herod the Great between 37 and 31 BC. Herod, who was not an Israelite, was made the puppet king of the rebellious Jews by the Romans. Herod was a master builder and built this fortress for his own use. It contained lime stone packed walls which were used as cisterns to hold the rare water that fell in the dessert. On Masada he also built barracks, an armory, and palaces.

In 70 AD a small group of Jewish fighters in the dark of night climbed the snake path on the back side of Masada and quickly overcame the small garrison of Roman soldiers stationed above. They were soon joined by the remnant of fighters from Jerusalem and their families.

With Masada as their base, the Jewish Zealots harassed and raided the Roman garrisons for two years. In 73 AD The Roman Governor was ordered to subdue and capture the Jews at Masada and burned the buildings so they could not be used to shelter future Zealots. Flavius Silva, Roman territorial governor, marched against Masada with his legions and several thousand Jewish prisoners-of-war to be used as slaves. The Romans established bases at the bottom of Masada which are still clearly visible today. The Romans laid siege to Masada and started to build a ramp of stone, beaten earth and sand leading from the Roman base camps up to the top. In the year 74 AD the Romans were able to breach the wall using a battering—ram leading to the Jewish stronghold.

The night before the Romans realized their success, the Jewish commander, Eleazer Ben-Yair met with his captains. The Jewish Zealots realized that if they were captured, the Romans would kill the small children in front of their parents, the woman would be raped, and those who remained would be sold into slavery. It was agreed that the only avenue open to the fighters was to commit mass suicide rather than suffer the torture of being sold into slavery by the Romans. Lots were drawn and ten men were chosen to kill the rest. Families lay down together while the ten men sharpened their knives. Using the rules of kosher killing animals for food, sharp knives were used to painlessly slit the throats of the families that were together. Upon completing this sacrifice, the ten men laid down with their own families to await the knife. Ben-Yair had been chosen to complete the task which he did. When none remained but two widows and three children who had no families, he fell upon his own sword.

Jewish renegade general Josephus, who adapted the last name Flavius, bore witness to the events of the following morning. The defenders, almost a thousand men, women, and children, lay dead. They had burned their fortress rather than be taken alive or allowing the buildings to be taken by the Romans. According to Josephus Flavius, Silva commented on the bravery of the Jewish defenders.

And with this, the Jews were ripped out of their own country and caused to live in foreign, strange lands. They learned to survive hatred, religious persecution, the inquisition, blood libel claims and, eventually the Holocaust. In many cases their identities were lost through forced conversions, inter-faith marriages, mass suicides, and resettlement to inhabitable lands and among primitive peoples who would not accept strangers. The Jews went into a two thousand year dispersion. They were scattered like the autumn leaves to the four winds. They survived in countries that were alien to them. They lived along side, and frequently in servitude, to those of different ethnicity. They never dreamed that one day they would return again to their ancient homeland.

THE MEN

SOL

D ECEMBER 1858. SHLOMO Fridman packed his meager belongings and left his small village in White Russia never to return. With the dawn Shlomo started his 795 mile journey to Hamburg, Germany. The previous day the Cossacks had visited his little Jewish village of Zembin.

Among those killed were his sisters and parents. Dead, they were buried after a full day’s work with a pickaxe and shovel to break through the frozen ground of the ancient Jewish cemetery. There were few who could help him. Too many of the village’s men had been murdered by the Cossacks. So many that no one remained to help. When he finished he stumbled back to his hovel, rekindled the small fire in the cast iron oven, and sat down to cry. Finally, with no rabbi to guide him, he took his father’s prayer shawl and book down from the shelf and started to read the Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead. And then, finally, he could lie down and sleep. From exhaustion, he slept the sleep of the dead. He slept for 12 hours dreaming dreams of foreign lands and distant hopes. Dreams that he could only pray would one day come true.

The next day Shlomo washed and then gathered the few valuable items in the house that the Cossacks had not stolen. Cohen the pawn broker had been spared—perhaps because it was the only venue where the local Russian landlord could borrow money. The money that Cohen gave him guaranteed him a place on a ship to the new world, albeit the cheapest possible berth. Having sold what may have been his inheritance had his family survived, Shlomo took his meager belongings, the money he had gotten from Cohen, and began his overland journey to Germany. His hopes and dreams gleaming in his eyes along with the tears that fell for all he was leaving behind. A thousand years in this village or a village just like it. Suffering the hate, murder and near starvation.

No more, Shlomo vowed, as he trudged westward.

Never again!

Few travelers in wagons passed him and even fewer were Jews who would offer him a ride. The Gentiles, seeing his side locks and Jewish village attire, ignored him. At night he often lay awake for hours to keep from freezing. An occasional Jewish villager would give him a piece of cheese or a small loaf of bread. There were times that he stole eggs or a chicken from a farm along the way. He did what he had to do to survive.

It took several months of mostly walking to reach Hamburg. The German Spring was in the air and flowers were beginning to bloom, yet Shlomo saw nothing but his dreams. He saw nothing but the distant future. He slept the first night in a Gentile cemetery and under his shabby thread-worn blanket to save money. Only continuing to pursue his dream could hold his’ attention.

In Hamburg, Shlomo used some of the money from the pawnbroker to purchase a one way trip in steerage to America. The only thing he was leaving behind was the memory of his sisters and parents. Nothing else remained. Cossack raids had grown more frequent and Jewish deaths more often. Jews did not report the murders to the authorities. The authorities wanted nothing to do with the Jews. Russia was death to all who remained. As the day for his departure grew near, he tried not to concentrate on his family. They were gone. He would never see them again.

On the third evening at sea, Shlomo found him-self faced with a challenge. His first of many moral decisions he would make during his flight to liberty. His meal in the evening consisted of pork sausage and weak tea. Raised as an orthodox Jew, pork was forbidden to him but his choice was to either eat the sausage, or die of hunger in the cramped space where he slept. He realized that he had to live; he had to reach America. Shlomo ate the forbidden meat. And with that he began to face what would be a new life in a distant land. His decision already made for him. He would survive.

Shlomo awakened the following morning to the sounds of people running and yelling on the deck over his head. The ship staggered and rolled in a way that could only be caused by a storm. The rolling black clouds and thunder brought fear and sickness to the passengers. His fellow steerage passengers who he shared his small space huddled together out of fear of the unknown. A few Jews who were also escaping from the ghettos of Eastern Europe shared his misery. Like them, he was running. Running from the blackness that was his father’s way and his grandfather’s way. Running from the rabbis, the freezing nights huddled next to a tiny wood burning stove that barely warmed the students who huddled next to it while they recited their aleph-bais. Running from a world that no longer held him. But running to what?

That evening, after the storm had passed, the sickened steerage passengers were allowed on deck for an hour while the crew pumped seawater into the hold to clean it out. The seawater was then pumped overboard. As he made his way up the ladder, Shlomo looked to the rear of the ship. He saw the storm clouds finally behind him and the white canvas sails stretched out over him. The ship heeled to the right and rode over the rolling waves. Off to the side several of the seamen smirked when he staggered by. He heard the word Zhid, an anti-Semitic term in Russian, muttered by the snickering seaman. Behind him sat the blackness of Europe. The blackness of the life in the ghetto. The blackness and hopelessness of the past. But Shlomo no longer saw that. He was looking towards the future He only saw America and the promise it held. He returned to his space below deck and borrowed a razor from one of the non-Jews who had befriended him. In the small mirror placed over the tiny cut-out space used as a toilet. Shlomo rubbed his face with a cup of sea water and a small, dirty bar of lye soap. He cut off his side locks with the razor and then he scraped off his beard. The face that looked back at him was that of a stranger; young and handsome. The Gentile was the first non-Jew that he had ever known. Salvatore Falco had been a barber in Genoa. He spoke a few words of English which he learned cutting the hair of English sailors in his uncle’s barber shop. He pointed to himself Me Sal. he said. Shlomo understood that he was meeting a friend and learning his name. He pointed to himself Shlomo he said. Sal did not understand and tried it again

Salvatore. Sal. Shlomo finally understood. He also understood that his village name was no longer usable in this new world. I am no longer Shlomo," he thought. He pointed to himself.

Solomon, Sol. Sol—Sal. The friends shook hands. His dream of reaching the "Goldena Medina" had finally begun.

Sol’s dream came to fruition twelve days later when the Philadelphia made land fall at New York’s Blackwell Island pier.

Sal was met at the wharf by distant relatives. Before leaving he turned and hugged Sol to him. Sal said something in Italian which Sol did not understand. The friends shook hands and parted.

His first night in America was a large let down for Sol. He did not hear any friendly words in Yiddish or see any smiling faces. The feeling of dread began to creep into his psyche. Sol found a dirty alley behind a pub near the wharf. He ate from the garbage littered around filthy barrels, rolled up in his blanket and fell asleep.

He awoke with the dawn. New York, like all cities, has odors of its own. When Sol saw where he had spent the night he ran from the alley like a thousand Cossacks were after him. He was filthy, his blanket was filthy, he was hungry and, sadly, he was alone. He knew no one and no one, except for his friend Salvatore, knew him. He stopped running at a street corner. The signs were all in English. He didn’t see any of the Cyrillic that he had grown up with in Russia. Nor did he see any Yiddish advertising. Sol sank to his knees and sobbed.

Lunch time came and went but Sol found no food to satiate his hunger. He stood six feet tall and muscular from the hard outside work he had to perform, but due to his trek across Europe in near starvation conditions and the lack of any substantial food during his sea journey, Sol weighed no more than one hundred forty pounds. With nowhere to go, no food, unable to speak with anyone Sol turned towards the south and walked the lonely streets with nothing but a prayer.

Onward he walked; sometimes stumbling. He didn’t know where he was going or what awaited him there but he was in America and he knew his dream had yet to come.

After what seemed like an eternity Sol reached Delancy Street with its Eastern European Jewish smells. Pickles, pastrami, corned beef; all of the familiar smells were there. Sol looked up and suddenly saw all the advertising signs in Yiddish, overwhelmed he yelled landsman, landsman, and passed out.

And he said unto them, ye will surely say unto me this proverb, Physician, heal thyself: whatsoever we have heard done in Capernaum, do also here in thy country.

Luke 4:2-3

DAVID

D A VID DECOSTA PEREZ was born in the British West Indies to a wealthy Jewish plantation owner. He lost his mother early in life which motivated him to study medicine. He studied medicine in London and, upon graduating, returned to his father’s home in Barbados. His father, a Sephardic Jew, owned a successful sugar plantation that employed 300 servants and laborers. He had been a widower for 14 years. His son, David, whose ancestors left Spain with the other Jews who had refused to convert, were forced by the church to flee with nothing but the clothes on their back in 1492. His family was blessed. After roaming around Europe and Turkey for 250 years, they landed in the British West Indies there to find their fortune.

David also returned home with a Catholic wife. Not having bothered to tell his father before returning home with her, his father’s disapproval was clearly displayed on this face.

David and Alice settled into one of the small cottage houses on the estate. Their maid fetched them their food from the kitchen every day and prepared tea for them in the evening.

David spent his days fishing or trying to rekindle his relationship with his father. Though sorely disappointed with his son for marrying out of the faith and for not establishing a medical practice here on the island after spending a fortune on his son’s schooling, he slowly forgave him.

David had never noticed that his wife had a wandering eye. All too often he came home from the fishing dock or from sailing his skiff to find his wife absent from the house or attired in evening clothes. He walked over to the almshouses thinking she was doing charity work or helping the poor. The manager reported that she had not been there and had not seen her. Not finding her David walked up to the manor house and joined his father for dinner.

Where is your wife? his father asked; still choosing not to call her by her name. I don’t know, perhaps on an errand, David answered.

His father looked at him with sadness in his eyes. What was he not saying to his son? What had he heard that David had not heard?

After dinner David returned to his cottage to find his wife was still absent. His evening dram of good rum led to two, three, finally enough to let him sleep. The tension between him and his father was starting to grow again as were the questions in his mind about his wife. Where was Alice? David slept.

When he awakened Alice was by his side, gently snoring as she slept. David did notice a bruise on her cheek and thought he recognized the outline of a hand. Had someone struck Alice? What was going on?

David rose being careful not to wake her. One of the elder servants on the plantation had fallen ill and David had promised his father that he would check on him first thing in the morning.

As David walked up to the houses where the servants lived he noticed that the servants were shunning him; turning their back on him as he passed their primitive houses. Where were the songs they always sang when working? He had grown up on that music and frequently joined in the singing with them as they enjoyed a fish fry at the camp fire. They had never shunned him before. David spoke the native Cariban tongue and was familiar with their customs and idiosyncrasies.

At the entrance way to Elmer’s house he paused and knocked. He had known Elmer his whole life and had even considered Elmer a second father; especially when his own mother was dying.

He entered and saw Elmer lying on a cot in his room. He immediately saw that something was wrong. Elmer was always telling jokes and always had a smile on his face and a good word for everyone. Suddenly it occurred to David that Elmer had grown very old. His hair was white and his complexion shrunken to that of an old man.

Elmer looked up as David approached. A tear glistened in his eye.

Well old man, David chided, what are you doing lying around where there is work to be done? Instead of smiling, Elmer looked seemingly through David

Get dat Devil woman out from here, she evil, he said in a stuttering voice.

Taken aback, David stared down at the old man, the man who had partially raised him.

Elmer, what in the hell are you talking about? David stepped back and waited for an answer. Elmer opened his eyes after a moment. Dat woman evil, Mr. David. She goes to stab you in da heart. Dat woman bad. Who are you talking about Elmer? He asked. Dat woman Miss Alice, Mr. David. Her got dat devil eye, Elmer answered. Foolish old man, David thought and continued to examine the man who could have been his second father.

Later David went to talk with his father about Elmer and what Elmer had said.

First, how is Elmer? His father asked.

He’s old, father, David answered. He won’t last much longer. He’s just old and he is worn out. I can’t find anything physically wrong with him. He is just old. His father shook his head and sat down.

What else, his father asked? I don’t know, father. He kept saying something about a devil woman here at the plantation. He was trembling when he said it. He was truly scared. That’s why the workers are so upset, his father answered.

Did you notice them shunning you? Yes, David answered, but I just ignored it as native superstition. His father’s piercing blue eyes seemed to rule the room.

I learned many years ago that when there is unrest on the plantation and the people turn from you, it undermines production and creates fear. These people have been here for several generations. Talk to them, find out what is wrong. Somehow David suspected that his father knew and that the answer to his question lay close at hand.

Elmer died that evening. David found himself needing to be alone. He walked down to the dock where he and Elmer had spent so many hours fishing together and talking about life. David sat at the end of the dock on the bench that his father had set up there so many years ago and cried. Why was he so unhappy? Not just because of Elmer, but his whole life was wrong. Deep down in his soul he knew. Tomorrow he would start asking questions of the people. They had also known him his whole life, Perhaps they could show him what everyone saw. Everyone but David.

When he returned home Alice was fussing at the servants. David had told them to take the day off to honor Elmer in their fashion. Alice didn’t seem to remember that.

Stop she yelled.

You stupid damned niggers don’t remember anything. I told you to clean the bedroom first. She turned to David.

What do you do to get them to obey, whip them,? She asked. We don’t whip our servants David answered, and what are you screeching about? he questioned.

Look at this dress, she screeched. I told Nancy to hang it, yet I found it on the floor, bundled up." Nancy, whose mother had been his wet nurse, was crying. It was then that David noticed the fingermarks on her face.

Did you strike her, David yelled. Nancy turned and ran from the cottage.

Later, when tempers cooled, David went to Nancy’s quarters. When she opened the door he saw that she was still crying. Please Mr. David, she beseeched him, Don’t send me away. I won’t send you away. No one is going to send you away, David responded.

Who told you that you were going to be sent away? The Mrs., she answered.

I hanged up her beautiful dress like she say but then she came in and opened the window. The breeze takes the dress to the floor.

David decided he needed a drink and walked up to the main house. His father invited him in for rum and sat with him on the veranda.

Dad, it seems that everything is turning upside down. I don’t understand it. This was always a happy place. His father studied him for a moment before he spoke.

David, how long did you know your wife before you married her? At first, David, always independent, resented the question. He answered however.

For just a few months. Her brother was a colleague of mine in medical school. Why do you ask? The people are talking, son. It appears that your wife either never had servants or just mistreated them all and they moved on. None of the people want to go to your house. The people are afraid of her. They are saying that she is a goofer woman David laughed.

That’s absurd, dad. This is the 19th century. Our people can read and write. They are treated like family. No one believes that old superstitious nonsense anymore. His dad responded. Many of them still do. Remember, their ancestors came to this island from Africa. Many of their customs and traditions are hard to throw off. They also seem to believe that she is carrying on with one of the sea captains at O’Malley’s Pub. Look into it son before it gets any later. I want my old age to be peaceful and happy. When your mother died they became a second family and I want this atmosphere out here to return to that. She is your wife but I think that there is something wrong with her said, pointing to his temple, I must insist that you fix this problem before it gets any worse.

David was angry.

Father, you never even gave her a chance. She is my wife and one day she will be the mother of your grandchildren, he retorted. His father rose and walked up the stairs to his quarters on the second floor.

David grabbed the bottle of rum, slamming the door behind him as he left the manor house. He spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the estate and finishing off the bottle of rum. At six that evening he returned to his cabin. Alice was missing.

I’m damned sick of this, he mumbled.

Making his way to O’Malley’s Pub should have been an easy two mile walk but due to the influence of the rum and his angst, it took David over an hour. Finally entering the pub he stumbled to the bar and asked for a bottle of rum. Being a member of the most powerful family on the island he was not refused.

Did you see my wife? David asked the terrified bar keep. The bar keep didn’t answer right away. The fear of offending David overwhelmed him for a moment. Finally he whispered room 3 upstairs.

David stumbled up the stairs. The bar-keep motioned to one of the bar maids.

Go get the constable, he said.

There’s going to be trouble here tonight. She quickly left the pub.

David managed to stumble up the flight of stairs to the second floor. When he reached room 3 he leaned against the door. The noises he heard from inside the room clearly were that of a couple making love.

It’s now or never he thought and kicked in the frail wooden door. Alice was naked as was the man she was entertaining. David looked at her, stunned. Alice began laughing at him.

You dumb Jew, she laughed.

This is a real man who knows how to satisfy a woman. Had she not mentioned his faith, had she not bared her nakedness in such a provocative way, he may have just turned around and left the room but his emotions overflowed and his anger exploded. He took the bottle of rum and broke it over her head, killing her instantly. The sea captain backed up to the end of the bed.

Hey sir, I didn’t know she was married, he said as he reached for the pistol on the night stand. David had heard and seen enough. He took the broken bottle and jammed the broken glass into his wife’s paramour’s neck.

Suddenly the realization of what he did hit like cold sea water. He ran from the room and down the stairs. One of the bar-maids screamed when she saw David covered with blood.

David ran from the pub and seeing several horses tied up in front of the pub he jumped on the closest one and rode towards his cabin. David thought of nothing but escape. He had murdered two people and stolen a horse. If they caught him it would be the hangman’s noose. Suddenly he was sober and very afraid. His father’s money and political connections could not help him. He must escape.

David reached his cabin. He grabbed his purse, medical bag, and documents. He had hidden money under the mattress which had remained hidden from his wife. He put on a clean shirt and then put his purse into his pockets. Escape was the only thing on his mind. It was all gone. Everything he had worked for was gone.

He rode to Bridgetown several miles away. Instead of tying the horse to a post he let the animal run free. Several ships were tied up at the Wharf in various stages of being loaded. David ran to a vessel that appeared to be ready to depart. He ran up the gangway to the quarterdeck.

What the hell do you want, barked a boatswain on duty.

I want to book passage, David answered.

Do ya got money, the boatswain asked.

Yes, I have money and no questions.

The captain was called up to the deck and made aware of the last minute request.

Do you know where we’re going, he asked a panting David Perez.

I don’t care, he said.

A jealous husband is looking to kill me. I need to get away from these islands. David finally realized that he was on a cargo vessel. The cargo was Africans being brought to Virginia for servitude.

I’ll take whatever you have, pleaded a tearful David.

"The captain hesitated only for a moment.

OK Lad, sign the manifest and get you below. Where are your clothes? David answered,

I have none but I can buy some when we reach wherever we are going.

Your funeral, the captain said. David signed a fictitious name and went below to sleep on bundles of seed. He immediately fell asleep. Several hours passed until David awakened. The ship was riding with the tide and under full sail. The new world and a new life awaited him.

SOL

S OL WOKE FROM his deep sleep. He had been dreaming of Zembin again, his parents and sisters. What would they say if they saw him now? It had been six months since he had stumbled into the Jewish section of lower Manhattan; starving and still in the foul smelling, thread bare clothing he had worn since he left his Russian village.

The Hester Street Israelite Settlement House found a room in a boarding house for him in Brooklyn. His new clothing and immigration papers came to him through the Hebrew Aid Immigration Society. Now he was an American. His English had also improved significantly. He worked with Moishe, a Romania Jewish immigrant. Moishe owned a push-cart and together they purchased fruit and vegetables from the farmers market and peddled the produce to the Jews in the area.

Hey, Moishe called, were coming to 1st Avenue, look sharp. The verbal jab amused Sol. He was sweet on one of the young ladies on 1st Avenue.

Yup, he answered,

there she is. Every day when the two Jewish immigrants entered this street they accidentally encountered Heddy Berkowitz. Moishe knew that he would lose Sol’s help for a while when they came to this street. Sol was ‘spooning,’ with Heddy. Moishe teased him constantly. Sol, being good natured, took the jabs with his sense of humor.

Moishe watched as his assistant and Heddy walked off to the corner coffee shop. He smiled to himself when he saw that Sol and Heddy were secretly holding hands. Moishe had managed the crossing from Europe nearly ten years previously with a wife and six children and had his own sad tales to tell about his first days in America.

The days passed with the news from the South growing darker and darker. Moishe and Sol sat in their boardinghouse on Hester Street reading the Yiddish newspaper.

Say’s here there will be a war if the South leaves the Union, Sol shared. The Immigrants sitting around the table shock their heads. They had all seen war in its various manifestations throughout Eastern