A history as told by Sarah Eva (Sally) Roth, August 17, 1987

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Another incident from that period…she and Dad were strolling down Hester Street, lower East Side, on their way to visit Lantzleit. Mum was wearing a new dress and a new chapeaux. Suddenly, from an upper story, someone opened their window and threw out a bag of garbage, chicken entrails and what have you …. landing all over Mum and her first new American outfit.

Mum and Dad were married at Behnish’s, Roselle, N. J. They moved to N. Y. Dad worked as a “Freelance” tailor, which meant that he carried his own Sewing Machine on his back from place to place looking for work. They were poor as poor can be. Mum was pregnant with Harry, Dad couldn’t find enough work to support them. Friends of theirs who owned a butcher shop (in Yonkers, I think) took them in, housed and fed them.

When the time came, Mum delivered Harry, April 4, 1909, in a Woman’s Hospital — no men allowed. She would hold Harry up to the window for Dad to see his son. What a deal that must have been. I know Harry had to have proof of his birth for the Navy or something and discovered that the hospital had burned down with all their records. That childbirth was very traumatic for Mum and I think it took her a long while to get well. Their friends were very kind to them and everyone helped care for the baby, they stayed until Mum was well and then came on to Pittsburgh; everyone in the Weiner family had settled in Pittsburgh, including Bohbe and Zaydeh.

I was born, September 4, 1914, at home which was on Reed St., off of Center Ave. Dr. Berenstein was the Doctor (I doubt if I was ever paid for) Aunt Becky was the “Centze Maher” (helper) at my birth.

Harry remembers my birth better than anyone else. They did a clever thing when Mum went into labor. They locked him in a room on the third floor where he could hear Mum screaming but he didn’t know why. No wonder he resented me for years. There was a sewing machine in the room and he took it all apart while enduring the long childbirth process. He probably received a whipping for doing that.

He received many many whippings. I would tattle on him, Dad took out his frustrations on him. Thank goodness Mum always tried to protect him. She was very proud of him. Lantzleit would always tell her that he looked exactly like her father.

In Pittsburgh, Dad continued working as a tailor for Frank & Seder’s Department Store, then for Rosenbaum’s. Wages were nil. Harry reminded me that Uncle Hitch and Dad worked together and Uncle was a better tailor than Dad…so….when Dad was handed a difficult job that required fine tailoring….Uncle would switch garments with Dad.

Then came World War I. I guess it lasted long enough for them to begin talking about drafting Fathers. We left Pittsburgh for Imperial, Penna. where Dad had a bakery delivery route via horse and wagon. I think the horse was named “George” and he was quite blind. I guess the move to Imperial was to hide out from the draft if it came.

We lived in a ramshackle duplex frame house outside of the town proper. The railroad tracks ran practically in our front yard. I would stand and wave to the engineer as the trains went by. I think I was almost three years old. I can’t remember any furniture except a few beds, a rocking chair, kitchen table and chairs and kerosene lamps.

In the other half of the house lived and elderly Polish couple….”Panyeh” and her horrible husband. He was forever getting drunk and beating her and I could hear her cry. Mum befriended her as much as she could but we were afraid of him.

I remember Mum took Panyeh, me, too, into the Mercy Hospital in Pittsburgh. Panyeh was practically blind….from all the beatings she took, no doubt. I don’t remember how we got to Pittsburgh or back….I do remember that Panyeh had medicine for her eyes when we returned. ( ‘91 - I remember - A Train Ride - )

Panyeh raised chickens and ducks in the back yard plus a vegetable garden. I would run around chasing the ducks and call loudly to Panyeh, “Katchke afen Kapusts.” (The ducks are on the cabbage.) Panyeh would grin her toothless smile and pat me on the head.

Dad was home on Sundays….the big treat was sitting at the kitchen table….Dad would give me a slice of black Pumpernickel bread….smeared with chicken fat or goose fat and rubbed with garlic….I loved it.

I once came out to the front yard with a huge piece of bread and jelly….Harry was kicking tin cans….”Ah, said I, see what I have?” Next thing i remember, I was on the ground, bleeding, Harry was kneeling beside me, shaking me awake, crying and pleading with me to open my eyes. I truly enjoyed that part. I still have a scar on my forehead where the tin can hit and cut me. I can imagine the beating he received for that, unless Mum didn’t tattle on him.

I remember Dad piling books on a chair, sitting Harry on top, covering him with a towel and giving him a haircut. Must have cut mine, too, for there’s one picture of me that looks as though a bowl had been placed on my head. Must have been Imperial where I remember Dad teaching Harry Hebrew. I can see them at the kitchen table with a book and Harry being attentive and interested. Too busy to tease me.

He was a great one at that. To reach the center of town (big deal, one street) we had to cross a trestle (logs and a foot apart) over a flowing creek. Mum sent Harry to the store, he was to take me and we each had a penny to spend.

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