Bubbe's Place: Stories

Ira Rashein

The graves in the Koshovoto Beneficial Society Cemetery abutted one another. I wondered if it was because the ground, the space was so expensive or if it was, as it had been in life, the people's desire. Coming from Koshovoto they knew how important community support was. Graves close together, could promise help close at hand, if the next world was as inhospitable as this world often was.

Cemeteries often give rise to depressing thoughts.

As we turned the corner I spotted a gravestone that made me laugh and chased away my morbid mood. "Mama! Papa! What do we have here? Could it be an English King? Look at all those names! All the other graves list only one or two given names. Look at him with 6 or 7 given names! Ira, Igor, Shmuel, Jacob, Itzchak, Beryl and Chaim Ben Shlomo." I couldn't stop laughing and repeating "Ira Igor Shmuel Jacob Itzchak Beryl Chaim Rashein. What a name! What could his mother been thinking to slap that long name on one wee baby?"

Mama and Papa did not laugh. They just shook their heads sadly and commented on my ignorance. "Tochter, du farshteys nor a bissel fun unser lebn." (Daughter, you understand so little about our life.)

Mama continued, "Back in the early 20th century we did not have wonderful medicine and drugs. We didn't have much medical help in Koshovoto. When a baby or a young child was very sick we did what we could. First the women did all that they knew to do to cure the child. Then they added prayers to their treatment regime. If things did not get better, and they feared the worse, they would change the child's name. Don't laugh. Understand that where there is ignorance, simple people substitute superstition for knowledge. They changed the name believing that they could fool the evil spirits. If the Angel of Death came looking for Chaim and only found Beryl, the Angel of Death would leave scratching his head and wondering where Chaim had gone. "Ira Igor Shmuel Jacob Itzchak Beryl Chaim Rashein must have been a very sickly child."

Papa interrupted, "Mama, was this the same Ira Rashein who owned a news stand on a busy corner in Manhattan? Ha! I am sure that it is he. He once lived in Denver, didn't he?"

Mama nodded her head in agreement and then she continued with Ira Rashein's story. "Ira was a young boy when he came to America with his parents. He was never a robust boy. When he went to school he caught everything. He caught colds and sneezes and lice and ringworm. He and his mother were familiar faces in the clinic of the Children's infirmary. When he was six he caught a particularly bad cold and had a terrible cough. The news was very bad. Ira had consumption, a leading cause of death on the lower East Side of New York City.

The doctor's laughed at Mrs. Rashein's plan to change Ira's name. They insisted that he must go for treatment for his consumption (Tuberculosis) to the National Jewish Hospital in Denver. At that time (And even today) it was a leading institute for the cure of lung diseases. The doctors promised that little Ira would get wonderful care and that it would all be free. In time Ira would return to N.Y.C. cured and healthy. Everything for Ira would be free. Even his train ticket to Denver would not cost them a penny.

But nothing would be free for Mr. and Mrs. Rashein. They would have to stay in New York and wait. They would be able to write to Ira and maybe even send him pictures of the family.

"The Rasheins argued with the authorities. Mrs. Rashein said she would die if they took her little boy away from her. The school and the health authorities said that Ira could not go to school and that he could not go anywhere were other people gathered until he was cured. They declared that he was contagious and a danger to other people!"

Papa interrupted again, "Mama tell her about the lady who built this wonderful free hospital."

Mama answered him, "Az du vest bleiben shtil vel ich tun ehs." If you will stay quiet, I will do it." Now Mama turned to me and spoke in English so that I would be sure to understand everything she said. "In the late 1800's many people with T.B. came to Denver hoping to get well in the fresh mountain air. There was no free hospital then. Many boarding houses refused to take "lungers", people with T.B. in. People were dying in the streets of Denver. "Denver had a small Jewish community of mostly German Jews. Frances Wisebart Jacobs (1843-1892) was a guttah neshomah (good soul) with a breythartsik (big heart, generous heart). She was the president of the Hebrew Benevolent Ladies Society (The forerunner of Jewish Family Service). She also started a charity organization that became today's United Way. Those were only two things that she did. She did many other generous things and I want you to remember her name, Frances Wisebart Jacobs, and I want you to follow her example."

I interrupted. "What did she have to do with Ira?"

Mama continued. "Eh…well many people in Denver were not sympathetic to the 'lungers.' They didn't want their city invaded by T.B. refugees. In fact since there was no place for the T.B. sufferers to be treated or even to stay, the police often picked them up and put them in jail. Mrs. Jacobs envisioned building a free hospital to care for these people. Her Rabbi, William Friedman supported her and urged his congregants to give her money for this project. Mrs. Jacobs died from pneumonia in 1892 when she was 49. That same year, the hospital cornerstone was laid. The hospital was built and stayed empty for a number of years! Back in 1890 there was a depression. It was aggravated by a 'silver crisis in 1893. In 1893 Frances had died, the silver crisis hit and funding in Denver dried up. In 1895 Louis Anfenger the Denver chapter president of Bnai B'rith went to the national board of Bnai B'rith and begged them to raise funds to open the T.B. hospital. They agreed and it opened in 1899 with the name 'National Jewish Hospital.' "From the beginning it accepted people of all religions and has had as its motto 'None may enter who can pay-none can pay who enter'. The hospital is still open and it is still a leader in the treatment of lung diseases."

Again I interrupted Mama. "But what happened to Ira? You remember him, Ira Igor Shmuel Jacob Itzchak Beryl Chaim Rashein?"

Now Papa spoke, "Ira did go to Denver. He had free care, the best care, and when he was well he returned to his family in N.Y.C. The doctors in Denver and in New York told Ira and his parents that he should not work in the garment workers' industry because the lint from the material would settle in his lungs and kill him. The doctors advised that he get a job working out of doors in the fresh air where he would remain healthy. So his family scrimped and saved and borrowed too to get enough money to buy him a news stand on a wide avenue in Manhattan. In this way he could be out in the air and could make a living too. Poor souls what did they know about the fumes of buses, trucks, cabs, and cars? All the doctors were surprised. Ira flourished and grew healthy in the N.Y.C. air and he made a good living too."

I smiled at the happy ending and walked on with my parents.