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IN-DEPTH FEATURES
Simchoh and Esther Liba Mandelbaum, whose home became famous
as a place of Torah, avodoh and chessed, stood
out clearly during the previous century among the families in
the Jerusalem of the Old Yishuv.
We spoke with one of their grandchildren, Attorney Simchoh
Mandelbaum, who shared some of the distinctly Yerushalmi
stories connected with their name. "The whole splendid family
that had the merit to come forth from R' Simchoh and Esther
Liba, zecher tzadikim lebrochoh, can be attributed to
the grandmother o'h, who took an interest in every
Torah-related detail in her sons' and grandsons' lives."
Jerusalem's First Factory
Esther Liba, daughter of Rav Nochum of the town of Kobrin in
Byelorussia, married Simchoh Mandelbaum, the son of the
gaon Rav Boruch who had made aliyah in 5681 (1921).
Rav Nochum of Kobrin was a godol who had learned
Shas 30 times and was the interim Admor of Slonim when
their rebbe passed away before his son was old enough to
assume the mantle of leadership.
Rav Nochum of the town of Kobrin in Byelorussia, who had no
sons, was looking for the ideal chosson for his
talented eldest daughter, known as a tzadekes. He
heard about Simchoh, who in 5681 had made aliyah with his
father, the gaon Rav Boruch, and sent a message asking
Simchoh to travel to meet him.
The young R' Simchoh travelled to Byelorussia and, even
before they became engaged, told the young lady that he
wanted to return to Eretz Yisroel to learn, but not to make
his living from the chalukah money that was typically
given out during that period. Instead he wanted to open a
business to support the household.
Rav Nochum, who had intended to provide his son-in-law a
rabbinical appointment, could not believe his daughter and
prospective son-in-law would move so far away. Yet R' Simchoh
remained insistent saying, "My soul is bound to Jerusalem and
cannot be severed from its source. He who leaves Eretz
Yisroel is called a yored because it is written,
`Vayered Yaakov Mitzraymoh.' I left and had a
yeridoh only for the sake of aliyoh."
He reminded the father and daughter that "living in Israel is
weighed against all of the mitzvos" as well as other sayings
of praise for Eretz Yisroel.
The kallah needed little convincing. She decided to be
an ezer kenegdo and to study spinning and weaving
before setting out. Family acquaintances raised eyebrows: the
rebbe's daughter a sock knitter?
Had Esther Liba paid attention to their remarks and come to
the conclusion that perhaps this was below her dignity,
Jerusalem might have lost a great gift. But she was strong of
spirit and her bold decision to help her husband try to build
a life of Torah in Eretz Hakodesh drove her to go
forward with her original plans.
Realizing that Jerusalem's noshim tzidkonios knew well
that "kol kevudoh bas melech penimoh" and would
certainly appreciate an opportunity to earn a living without
having to leave their homes, before setting out for Eretz
Yisroel she travelled to Lodzh to buy 25 weaving machines
which she then brought with them.
The women of Jerusalem, who had no means of supporting their
families--certainly not without leaving the daled amos
of their homes--leaped at the opportunity. They knit socks,
and every Thursday they would bring their goods to the shop
the young Mrs. Mandelbaum had opened. The Mandelbaums
advertised top-quality socks in a variety of colors.
Esther Liba would work in the shop because most of the
customers were ladies. Meanwhile her husband would sit in the
inner room beside several vats of dye, wearing a work apron
splattered with various different colors. Each of the
customers wanted a different shade and R' Simchoh would dip
the socks in the desired solution, lay them out to dry and
pass them to his wife. Often called upon to act as a
rov, a public representative or an askon, R'
Simchoh would shed his work apron, don his suit jacket and
set out to attend to the matter at hand.
Folding Back the Titles
The sock business expanded. The "stockinged couple," as they
were known to the residents of Jerusalem, were in demand
outside the city as well. Their products were sold in Jaffa
and all over the country.
Eventually, Esther Liba decided to manufacture and sell
linens, too. She opened a large trousseau store, selling
sheets, blankets, pillows, etc. to the many chassonim
and kallos who came in to outfit themselves with high-
quality products that would last for 20 years or more; a
Jerusalemite, for whom the Torah was dear, could not afford
to replace his linens every few years. Before the age of
credit, Esther Liba would spread out the payment over several
years, without taking checks as collateral.
"After her petiroh," recalls Esther Liba's grandson,
Attorney Simchoh Mandelbaum, "we found her drawers brimming
with . . . precise listings of people who owed her money for
15 years or more!"
Despite her numerous obligations, Esther Liba, a mother of
ten, always davened three times per day, said
Tehillim and did not pass up her regular studies of
Tzena Re'ena on Shabbos.
She supported her husband to allow him to devote his time to
Torah study, and encouraged her children to study
diligently.
"Torah emerges from R' Simchoh's throat," said his friends
and acquaintances.
"Torah is only acquired through assiduousness," he would
often tell his children and grandchildren, serving as an
example of vehogeiso bo yomom voloyloh. The Torah was
a regular guest at his table, and voices of learning and
halachic wrangles often filled his home and identified it as
a place of Torah. He and his wife exerted great efforts in
chinuch habonim.
Meanwhile, he studied Torah and handled tzorchei
tzibbur. He brought two sifrei Torah into Beis
Knesses Tiferes Yisroel in the Old City and his joy was
unsurpassed, over and over again every Simchas Torah, when he
was selected chosson Torah of the large beis
knesses.
Everyone in the city respected R' Simchoh, whose majestic
countenance revealed his greatness. But when he received
letters that addressed him with grand titles he would fold
them back without even glancing at them, and begin reading
the body of the letter immediately.
Every Leil Shabbos, R' Simchoh would walk down to the Kosel
Maarovi to daven.At that time they lived in the Old
City. After the tefilloh, he would survey the
participants and invite guests to join him for the meal.
Primarily because of their traditional caftans, Jerusalemites
were easy to spot, so it was never difficult to find guests.
Esther Liba would be waiting at home, her table set with
several extra place settings for the guests.
Nothing could prevent the Mandelbaums from hachnosas
orchim. Naturally, the guests represented all ranks of
Am Yisroel, and were not necessarily all people who
provided pleasant company.
One of their fixed guests was poor and derelict. His face was
always covered with saliva and a less-than-pleasant smell
issued forth from his clothes. Nevertheless, over a long
period of time he would regularly dine at their table. "This
is the real mitzvah of hachnosas orchim," the
Mandelbaums constantly told their children. "To welcome a
distinguished guest is nothing special, since we are honored
by his presence. When a normal guest comes along who does not
require much effort to host, one does not really feel the
mitzvah. But when a guest like this comes along, then we
really are carrying out the mitzvah of hachnosas orchim
behidur!"
When World War I broke out and the Jews of Jerusalem were
recruited into the Turkish army against their will, money was
sent via the Joint to the US consulate to release them from
the draft. Many askonim were afraid to handle the
money, because they were afraid the Turks would accuse them
of sabotage in time of war, which carried the death penalty.
But R' Simchoh, with his wife's support, decided he would not
be daunted! To him this was a chance to perform the mitzvah
of pidyon shevu'im! He could not remain indifferent
and transgress the injunction of lo ta'amod al dam
rei'echoh at such a time. Furthermore, he reasoned, if a
Jew is redeemed from the army he is saved from transgressing
a negative commandment--lo sirtzach--in addition to
numerous prohibitions he would be liable to violate while
serving.
On Rosh Hashanah, he heard Turkish policemen were about to
raid the beis knesses during the tefilloh, to
trap men eligible for enlistment. R' Simchoh did not hesitate
for an instant. Still wearing his tallis he rushed
straight to the police station, went in and told the officers
and soldiers he had come to bless them with greetings for a
good new year. He intentionally engaged them in small talk,
eventually inviting them to his home where he set before them
a table laden with holiday delicacies.
Meanwhile, the Jews streaming into the beis knesses
were wholly unaware of the danger lying in store and that
they had narrowly escaped thanks to R' Simchoh's bold
endeavor. "This is not what you wanted to find," he said,
gesturing toward the set tables and winking an eye. "Wasn't
there something else you were looking for?" he added, hinting
at the original plans, in jest. Then he convinced them to
abandon their search and continued serving them food and
drink.
As the war intensified, the economic state grew worse. R'
Simchoh and his wife assisted a soup kitchen that opened in
order to provide bread and tea to the hungry in Jerusalem.
When R' Simchoh went to request a donation from
philanthropist Nosson Strauss, who came to visit the soup
kitchen, R' Simchoh said, "I heard there is no need to
convince you to make a donation, but rather not to donate too
much." Strauss liked what he had to say and made a generous
contribution.
The Palace at the End of Shmuel Hanovi
Street
R' Simchoh's ten children were born and raised in the Old
City. His house, situated between the walls, did not grow
along with the family, of course. The years passed. The
Ottoman rulers made way for the British Mandate. R' Simchoh's
children married and there was not enough room for everyone
in the Old City. Esther Liba very much wanted all of her
offspring to live nearby so she would always be able to help
them, so R' Simchoh went in search of a lot suitable for
building, although he had been offered many built houses in
various neighborhoods. "Buying or renting a home in Jerusalem
is no great act. I want to do the mitzvah of yishuv Eretz
Yisroel behiddur. I want to actually be involved in the
construction," he would tell anyone who offered to sell him
their property.
He insisted on buying a piece of land near the Third Wall
from the time of King Agrippas, not far from the grave of
Shimon Hatzaddik. When he bent down among the fallen stones
there he found an ancient coin and, rubbing off the dirt, saw
a cluster of grapes on one side. He went to the Department of
Antiquities and presented the coin. The curator examined it
and determined it was from the time of Bar Kochba. The
engraving it bore left no room for doubt: "For the liberation
of Jerusalem."
R' Simchoh's liking for the location grew even more, despite
efforts to dissuade him by offering him lots on Jaffa Street
or in Rechavia at discounted prices, locations where he could
have built a home and made money by opening a business
onsite. "Think about it," realtors would say. "Where will you
generate more earnings--here or there?"
R' Simchoh refused. "I am not looking for financial gain from
Jerusalem, but rather what I can contribute to the city, and
I believe the contribution is to buy a lot on the edge of the
city. If I don't buy it, non-Jews will come along and
purchase the lot and build houses all along the road up to
the hospital at Har Hatzofim, and will close in around Meah
Shearim and Botei Ungarin. But if other people see that I
bought a lot here, they will come too, and Jewish settlement
will spread north." R' Simchoh ensured the construction met
high standards of quality. "Jerusalem has to be accorded
respect by building nice homes in it," he explained. Indeed
the house was in keeping with the best of traditional
Yerushalmi construction.
Every Yerushalmi was familiar with the Mandelbaum House at
the end of Shmuel Hanovi Street. The attractive, three-story
house stuck out like an impressive palace at a crossroads
opposite the green hills of Jerusalem. In the distance was a
view of Har Hatzofim while behind the house were the narrow
streets and alleyways of the young Meah Shearim. The house
became legendary. After it was destroyed in the War of 5708
(1948) its ruins, widely known as Mandelbaum Gate or
Mandelbaum Crossing, served as the landmark indicating the
border between Israel and Jordan.
Laying a Stone for the Beis Hamikdosh
The chanukas habayis was held on Tu B'Av 5689 (1929),
the same day as the wedding of the Mandelbaum's youngest
daughter, who married Rav Rafael HaKohen Kook, the rov of
Tiberius. (Among the products of this marriage was Rav
Simchoh HaKohen Kook, ylct'a, now rov of Rechovot.)
The city's leading talmidei chachomim and rabbonim
gathered on the roof top to celebrate the double
simchoh.
Esther Liba, who wanted the sounds of Torah and
tefilloh to issue from her home, began to pay
avreichim from Meah Shearim and Botei Ungarin a few
shillings to come daven three times per day at the
beis knesses built into the house, a practice that
continued for many years. Despite his strong desire to expand
Jerusalem, R' Simchoh never managed to attract new
neighbors.
The Wakf, which owned large tracts of land in the area,
issued an injunction not to sell any land to Jews, and thus
the Mandelbaum House remained alone, the last landmark of the
city's outlying neighborhoods.
Not merely a landmark, it also served as a shield and a
barricade for nearby neighborhoods. When the riots of 5689
(1929) began a short time later, and again in 5696 (1936),
Haganah fighters used the house as a strategic position from
which to drive back the riled masses of Arabs that came from
Nablus Gate to Meah Shearim and Beis Yisroel shouting,
"Itbach el Yahud!" ("Slaughter the Jews!") and
"Meisharim!" (the Arab pronunciation for "Meah
Shearim").
A few months later on Erev Shabbos R' Simchoh passed away. As
candlelighting time drew near, he summoned his family members
to part from them. "I am about to pass from one dwelling
place to another, from This World to the World-to-Come, and I
feel no sorrow in my heart . . . When a man departs from This
World it is a time for cheshbon nefesh; all the days
of his life and his deeds pass before him one after another,
and it is a major moment in his life, for better and for
worse. And there is no greater time for a man to hand over
his neshomoh in purity and say, `Just as I received it
I am handing it over and returning it.' Keep these words in
your heart for your final hour of cheshbon nefesh and
the Day of Judgment."
R' Simchoh spread his hands toward the heavens and said,
"These hands are clean. Everything they did, they did
faithfully, and all these hands gained was through permitted
means. Yet in one thing my zchus did not stand by me:
I did not have the zchus to lay bricks for the Beis
Hamikdosh . . . When the Beis Hamikdosh is rebuilt speedily
in our days, [I ask that] you or your children lay stones or
bricks from this house for the building of the Beis Hamikdosh
. . . "
Sick Savta
After her husband's petiroh, Esther Liba assumed the
task of managing the large house, where all of the children,
sons- and daughters-in-law and grandchildren lived in
separate apartments. From 5689 (1929) to 5708 (1948) the
house continued to brim with life. Rooms were set aside both
for guests and for members of the Haganah, who cached weapons
and billeted there.
Later, two of those who stayed in the Mandelbaum House,
Professor Efraim Katzir and Chaim Herzog, both of whom went
on to serve as president of Israel, reported that they were
received warmly by the elderly Mrs. Mandelbaum, who tended to
the needs of everyone who stayed in her home as if they were
also members of the family. The two had an opportunity to
experience genuine, Jewish hachnosas orchim firsthand.
"I will never forget her motherly and grandmotherly
treatment," said Herzog years later at a naming ceremony for
a nearby square.
Whenever British soldiers arrived for an inspection, the
Haganah members would rush to the beis knesses and
open seforim. The British assumed they were yeshiva
students and left them alone. The weapons were hidden in Mrs.
Mandelbaum's linen chest. She always happened to be sick
during the inspections and had to lie in bed. The family
would plead with the soldiers not to make their "sick
grandmother" leave her bed. As soon as they drove away she
would continue to run the "Mandelbaum kingdom" with her usual
efficiency.
Attorney Simchoh Mandelbaum recalls how his grandmother would
wake him and his brothers and his cousins at 6:30 a.m. for
the tefilloh held in the beis knesses attached
to the building. She also involved herself in her grandsons'
Torah studies, constantly showing an interest and keeping
track of their progress.
From her seat in the ezras noshim, she would send
someone with a message saying who should lead the
tefilloh and who would be called up to the Torah. On
Shabbos, at the end of the tefilloh, she would sit at
the head of the table, recite kiddush and say
divrei Torah just like a father figure. Her family
members said that the only way Esther Liba failed to take her
husband's place was in not giving the Shabbos droshoh
between Shacharis and Musaf.
The Rescue of the Sifrei Torah
During the War of Independence, the Mandelbaum House lay
right on the borderline between the Jewish area and the area
under Jordanian control. Jordanian snipers, who were known as
excellent marksmen, took up positions at the battlefront and
shot into the house.
At first Esther Liba and her family members did not want to
evacuate the house R' Simchoh had built out of his love for
Jerusalem, a home he filled with Torah and mitzvos and to
which they were attached heart and soul. But eventually, when
no other choice remained, they abandoned it and the Haganah
moved in to use it as a battle position.
After leaving in great haste, the Mandelbaum family
remembered that they had left behind the sifrei Torah
R' Simchoh had installed in the beis knesses.
Rebbetzin Chayo Tziporoh Mandelbaum o'h, who passed
away about a year ago, did not sleep a wink all night and the
next morning returned to the house, slinking out of sight of
the snipers on the roof tops of Sheikh Jerach, and rescued
the sifrei Torah.
The Jewish fighters continued to repel the Jordanian attacks
on the neighborhoods of Jerusalem and held their position in
the house until a status quo agreement was signed between the
State of Israel and the Jordanians. As part of the
understandings it contained, Mandelbaum House remained on the
Israeli side.
But the status quo was not mutually honored. Soldiers from
the Jordanian League violated the agreements and on Leil
Shabbos, 5 Nisan 5708 (1948), as 35 Jewish fighters rested
during the cease-fire, the Jordanians brought in fresh
fighters for the decisive battle in store and assaulted the
house with tremendous quantities of explosives. The building
collapsed with a terrible crashing sound, burying the Jewish
fighters beneath the rubble.
"I remember that day well," recounts Attorney Mandelbaum. "We
had left just three days earlier, and since then the house
had been captured by Legion forces and recaptured by us four
times. The next day, when we heard about the explosion, it
felt like Tisha B'Av. It was hard to absorb the fact that 35
Jews had met a terrible death there in the house where we had
been born and lived a rich childhood . . . In Jerusalem, the
Mandelbaum House was not considered just a house but a
`kingdom.' We grew up in the company of numerous guests with
a central figure whose path we followed.
"Savta o'h took it hardest of all. A short time later,
HaRav Rafael Kook zt'l, her son-in-law who had been
studying in a yeshiva in Jerusalem until that point, accepted
the rabbinical post in Tiberius. Savta, who went to her
daughter Rochel, his wife, was unable to bear the hot air, so
she moved in with her son, HaRav Boruch Mandelbaum
zt'l, where she passed away just a few months after
leaving her `kingdom.' "
*
Part of the front wall with the entrance gate remained
standing and served as a memorial for the 19 years during
which Jerusalem was divided between areas of Israeli and
Jordanian rule, and the area near the house served as a
border crossing widely known as the Mandelbaum Gate. The
United Nations was stationed here and talks were held between
Israel and Jordan.
A few days after the liberation of Jerusalem in 5727 (1967)
Teddy Kollek, then mayor of Jerusalem, sent heavy equipment
in to destroy the remnants of the building and flatten it the
ground. When a journalist asked him why he committed this
act, which was probably beyond his authority to order, he
explained that it was a period of chaos in terms of
distribution of responsibility, and he did not want to leave
this geographic landmark and make the area hefker. He
was totally unaware of the story behind the house, except for
his acquaintance with the Mandelbaum Gate. When asked whether
he knew who Mandelbaum had been, he shrugged his shoulders
and let slip the words, "Some German doctor, I think."
Although the house was razed, the legacy of Torah,
avodoh and gemilus chossodim that prevailed
there planted seeds in the hearts of the people who called it
home and these seeds bore mighty trees that carry on that
legacy to this day.
And this is something no man can take away.
Two years ago, a ceremony was held at the site of the
Mandelbaum Crossing. Former president of Israel, Chaim
Herzog, spoke about the role it played.
"I was commander of the Jerusalem District Brigade from 1945
to 1975, and during this period Mandelbaum Gate was an
important location, because it was our border and meeting
point with Jordan and the Jordanians. At Mandelbaum Gate,
every two weeks, we would assemble and transport the
replacements for Har Hatzofim. They wore Israel Police
uniforms and of course we also transported food and supplies.
At the UN crossing, the Jordanians would check our armored
buses that brought the people up to the mountain. Of course,
those who were released were then brought down. From a
military standpoint the place had great importance.
"In 1955 an arrangement was made to have the Israeli
commander and the Jordanian commander meet and they set up a
direct phone line from my office at Shneller [an army base in
the middle of Jerusalem] as District Commander and also from
my home, to the Jordanian commander. I met with him at
Mandelbaum Crossing, in the middle, in the midst of all the
anti-tank mounds of cement that were there.
"When I was head of the IDF intelligence section for the
second time, there were problems with Syria, which was
essentially part of the United Arab Commonwealth, and at the
time there was a union between Egypt and Syria. The head of
Syrian intelligence was very active then and tried to kill
King Hussein several times. On September 1, 1956 they managed
to penetrate explosives into the Jordanian Prime Minister's
office when the king was about to visit him. For some reason
the king was late. The bomb exploded and Prime Minister Hafaz
al-Majili was killed.
"The king wanted to launch an offensive against the Syrians,
mobilized his army and moved it north. They asked for a
meeting with me as head of the intelligence section. The
Jordanian head of intelligence asked for a meeting with me
mediated by the [UN] Cease-Fire Committee. I met with the
head of the king's office at Mandelbaum Gate, where we were
told they planned to launch an offensive against Syria and
were asking us not to interfere--essentially that we cover
them from the rear so they would be able to move their forces
from us. Ben Gurion of course accepted their proposal and
authorized me to guarantee no harm would befall them if they
wanted to take care of the Syrians. In the end nothing
happened, because the American and British ambassadors
dissuaded him from carrying out his plan."
This is just one example of the role Mandelbaum Crossing
played as a meeting place for dialogue between Israel and the
Arabs during the 19 years Jerusalem was divided. Back then,
leaders kept the conversation to a minimum, rather than the
kind of talks on large estates today, such as Wye or
Shepherdstown.
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