Sylvan Durkheimer

Tanzer: Mr. Durkheimer, I’d like to ask you where your family came from and how they happened to come to Oregon? 
DURKHEIMER: Perhaps the better way to begin a review of my family’s history is to state that both my grandfathers were inspired and prompted to migrate to the United States during their early teen years to successfully escape enforced military service in their native land, Germany. My paternal grandfather, born in Bavaria in 1824, the exact location of residence is unknown to me, but presumably he eventually hailed from Bad dërkheim, Rhein dërkheim, or Fals durkheim, all located in close proximity to the headwaters of the Rhine River. I have personally been in all these small communities when on a European visit shortly after the termination of World War II. I have been informed that during the years of both my grandfathers’ youths in the larger more metropolitan centers of Germany, at that time people of Jewish faith were ghettoized and in smaller communities more or less restricted in home location and denied freedom to elect life’s sustaining activities. Even name restrictions were applied. Therefore, it is now presumed by me that my paternal grandfather’s name Kaufman Durkheimer was indicative that he hailed from one of the foreign named Durkheim locations and his father or himself was a merchant peddler of some sort. Anyway, this man Kaufman Durkheimer landed in America in the year of 1839, first settled in Philadelphia and during 1854 married a young German émigré named Caroline Steinheiser, a native of Baden. My father, the couple’s second son, was born in Philadelphia in February 1857. The final inventory of seven children numbering four sons and three daughters completed the family roster. With termination of the American Civil War in 1865, the family moved to the Pacific Coast via the long water route rounding the southern tip of South America, ultimately landing in Portland, Oregon which proved to become their long-lasting home location. 

Tanzer: What year was it that Mr. Durkheimer landed in Oregon? 
DURKHEIMER: In 1865. I can recall about the turn of the century their last residence was then located on the southeast corner of 11th and Montgomery Streets. My father attended a public school then located at Sixth and Morrison, subsequently replaced by the historically famous old Portland Hotel, later to be razed, transforming as of today the whole city block being an automobile parking accommodation [later to become Pioneer Square]. This grandfather’s child-begetting capabilities were quite a bit greater than his registered economic progress was able to support. So to supplement the family [income], my father, during his teen years, drove a single horse drawn express wagon over the streets of Portland following each school day’s termination to earn a few dollars. Then when 17 years old, his formal schooling ended. In 1874 he was hired out as a bookkeeper, moved to Baker City in eastern Oregon and was there employed by a firm called Bamberger and Frank, a thriving Jewish old general merchandise operation. To supplement his modest bookkeeper wages, he moonlighted with these same employers, serving as night watchman, and was permitted to transfer blankets from stock shelf to the sales counter thereby transforming a hard plank of wood into a warm comfortable, fairly soft bed. Thus, he eliminated the necessity of paying room rental. Now to add a brief personal comment about myself. How do I know about these details I’ve been reporting and those about to follow? I’ll explain. I have been a retiree for the past 14 years. Except for a little short of two years’ time during World War Number 1, while I did naval service, and the first three years of my life, when I was a resident of Burns, Oregon, for all the remaining balance of 76 years, Portland has been my home. As a youth and growing into early manhood, I learned much about my family’s pioneering experiences in Oregon. Listening to repeatedly frequent parental referrals of their respective childhoods and the subsequent year’s happenings in that section of Oregon, then wild and primitive, this area gradually going through a transition period, changing from red man’s exclusive occupancy into white man’s forced possessive takeover. Then since the beginning of my retirement, almost 14 years back, I have pursued the exciting and enjoyable avocation of exploring and developing a historical review of my parents’ activities as they played their part in the pioneering tidal wave of humanity that swept over the state of Oregon, during the latter half of the 19th century. In my research activities I have travelled to numerous Oregon communities where creditable pioneer museums have been organized, various items and materials collected and expertly exhibited and made available and catalogued. I have interviewed a number of so called old-timers, both red and white skinned, some in their high 80s and 90s. I have even visited old cemeteries where tombstones can and do record the early history of the area and its past personnel. This is how I have been able to reliably confirm and supplement the reporting’s of my parents, to appreciatively respect and marvel at some of the physical hardships they were forces to endure and the hazards of sudden life termination, tragic in nature which they braved to endure. So now, enough of myself and again back to the history of my family. In my exploratory diggings I uncovered a printed, two column-wide, two-inch-deep newspaper advertisement published July the 22nd, 1886, printed in the Grant County News, then the publication out of Prairie City, indicative that my father was at this time the proprietor of “The Red Front Store,” located in Baker City, inviting customer patronage, shouting in bold print, “Largest stock, lowest prices” with further invitation reading, “County orders a specialty. All correspondence promptly answered,” signed J. Durkheimer. I do not recall ever having heard my father state that he owned a store in Baker City nor have I ever unfolded confirming information, but surely a newspaper of 1886 issue would not attempt to falsify and mislead a 1974 reader. So I accept this ad to be truthful, reporting a historical fact 88 years old. 

Tanzer: Can you tell me where Baker City is? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, it’s now called Baker. It’s on the mainline of the Union Pacific and it was a small community then but subsequently after the construction of the Union Pacific Railroad, it became the transfer point for merchandise, mostly of California origin to be transferred to freighter truck service to take it further inland into the interior of Oregon. And then in addition to that, gold was discovered in the early days in the environs of Baker City and gave it a stimulation for growth. Baker City was quite a prominent community in those days. 

Tanzer: So, do you think that your father went there as a merchant in order to serve the needs of the miners or just of the area? 
DURKHEIMER: It was more or less quite a general custom at that time for young Jewish men to go to communities in Oregon, either in the Willamette Valley or east of the Cascades and engage in the pursuit of merchandising and practically every community of any consequence had one or more Jewish merchants as citizens and prominent citizens in their midst. This same publication that I just referred to, dated the July 7, 1887 issue, contains a quarter page ad indicating the establishment of a new general merchandising store in Prairie City, Oregon, with no reparative appearance of a Red Front operation in Baker City. So I presume at some time during the interval between July, 1886 and July, 1887 disposal of Baker and the acquisition of Prairie stores became effective. Business events, buy, sell, expand, all seem to pile up with rapid sequence. The September 6, 1888 issue of the Grant County News printed the good news that a second J. Durkheimer operation was in full bloom 15 miles to the west, located in Canyon City and further informed the public as a news item, “Julius Durkheimer has gone to San Francisco to purchase new goods.” Now today with modern highways and speedy convenience of auto travel, 15 miles is no real distance. But with poor roads and horse drawn vehicles, winter snow blockades, biting cold winds and Indian hazards, 15 miles was a long, long way. Establishment of this Canyon City unit proved to be a very timely and successful venture. It was but only a short while later when the Canyon City sales volume surpassed the longer established Prairie operation. Both were growing healthily but the speed of progress at Canyon City excelled. New additional personnel was required at both locations to meet the increasing customer demand. In desperation an SOS message was mailed to Portland (there were no telephones or wire services then established) and three Durkheimer brothers, Mose, Sam and Sig responded, packed their duds and left Portland bound for eastern Oregon. Mose, the eldest, was put in management charge at Prairie. Sam too, went to Prairie. Sig was selected to become a resident of Canyon City where Julius resided and managed that operation. At this point in life, all four Durkheimer men were bachelors. One year later, the big boss decided it was time for him to run in double harness, so in July 1889 he married Delia Freid, a resident of Portland but previously a grade-school teacher in Aurora, Oregon with Canyon City destined to be her future home. In the issue of July the 18th, 1889, the Grant County News, carried a half-page advertisement identifying three towns, all featuring a J. Durkheimer store. Now Burns, Oregon had been added as another link to the expanding chain. Here a Jewish man by the name of Isaac Baer was employed and put in management. Events did not seem to happen at walking gait, not even at trot. That was all too slow. On the gallop was evidently the acceptable speed to operate. During early the fall of 1889, a group of three businessmen craved ownership of the Canyon City Store. The purchase tender was too inviting to decline and prompt transfer and payment was completed with great dispatch. With almost equal dispatch, sale of ownership of the Prairie store was consummated with brother Mose to become its new owner. He continued this operation until the time of his accidental death in 1919 and in the interim became a prominent and well respected citizen in Prairie City, active in many local, private and public affairs. 

So now, free of Canyon City and Prairie City affiliations, Mr. and Mrs. Julius Durkheimer moved their residence into a wild undeveloped assembly of newly constructed wooden shacks, right in the middle of sagebrush land, which was called Burns Oregon. The business heart in this young settlement, being two saloons, a blacksmith shop, a livery stable and a general merchandise store, none over five years old because the town was founded in the year 1884. But it then served a huge trading area spotted with large sheep and cattle ranches located within a radius of 70 to 80 miles in all directions. Then, as geographically located, to express its isolation mildly, it was a 150 miles from a railroad. This 150 miles over two mountain ranges was a hard two days drive behind a span of horses. Communication from the outside world from or to Burns was practically nil, except for bi-weekly mail delivery, completed by saddle horse. No doctor was located nearer than Baker City, 150 miles distant. I have never been able to identify that a single school was then in operation in all of Harney County. How could the children of the settlers in that area obtain an education? Perhaps an education was not much to be desired. Freighting of merchandise was always suspended during the winter snow storm period, so in anticipation of this interruption, heavy supplies were brought into merchants before December or early November. But the community of Burns, in spite of this natural deterrence did expand population wise and economically. In early 1893, I spread the alarm that in due course the population of Burns would soon again be increased by one. I wasn’t then consulted, but mother decided to travel to Portland to meet me and evidently, I obligingly concurred and complied. In those days, Multnomah County recordings were none too proficient, at least no record of my birth was ever registered in Multnomah County. Harney County however, did have a recording of sorts. In one of my research expeditions, some seventy years thereafter, I did locate two news items with considerable satisfaction. The March 8, 1893 issue of the East Oregon Herald published in Burns, noted, “Julius Durkheimer has gone to Portland to be absent for several weeks.” 

Tanzer: Who took care of the store when your father was gone? 
DURKHEIMER: Isaac Baer was his assistant there. And then two weeks later, on March 22, 1893, this same publication printed: “Born to the wife of Julius Durkheimer in Portland, on the l4th was a boy.” Now I was always told by my parents that March the 14th was my birthday, and the fact that I physically comply with the sex identity named in the birth notice, leads me to believe this reporting confirms the birth of me and no one else confirming both date and place applying. Also published in the same newspaper at various times during the year 1895, were numerous references to the various municipal activities of my father while he was serving as mayor in the community of Burns. Then the final chapter. The J. Durkheimer family participation in eastern Oregon pioneering was enacted in 1896 when the business operation and residence in Burns were both disposed of by sales to new ownerships and Portland became the family’s successor home location. In Portland my father acquired a one-third ownership in the firm of Wadhams and Company, a wholesale grocery concern, then the second oldest organization of its type in that industry operating in Oregon, it’s original founding having been made in 1866. The outstanding antiqueness of this 1866 dating recalls to my mind an event in which I participated approximately fifteen years back. At that time the telephone company, celebrating its 75th year of operation in Portland and as one of the featured reminiscences disclosed the original number of commercial, professional and home phones listed in the first issue of their telephone book totaled a hundred and one subscribers. Exactly how many were classified as commercial I do not now remember but this I do recall, only four of the original commercial listees had survived the following three-quarters of a century, still carrying on with their respective original name identity. This unique four were the Oregon Transfer Company, Lipman Wolfe & Company, The Oregonian and Wadhams & Company. Strangely, Meier & Frank did not subscribe for telephone service at the time of its initiation in this area. 

Now I shall record the Freid family sector, which will review my mother’s pioneering days in the west. As in the instance of my paternal grandfather, my maternal grandfather left his motherland of Germany during his early teen years, to avoid the demands of distasteful military service. He was born in 1816 in the tiny village of Langensheidt, just a few miles west of the larger community of Dietz, some thirty miles north of Frankfurt. In 1831, he immigrated to America, landed in New York City and remained for about 25 years. With maturity into manhood, accompanied by reasonably successful economic progress, in 1852 he married Fanny Mayer, a German-born girl eight years his junior. She was from the village of Guntersblum, 30 miles south of Frankfurt. One son was born in 1854 to this couple in New York City, Leo Freid, who grew into manhood in Portland and became a prominent and highly respected citizen in this city. Shortly after the birth of their first child, Moses Freid the father, decided he had had enough of New York and that California was more promising and beckoned his welcome; so during either 1856 or 1857 travel plans were completed and the family sang “California here we come”, and they sailed out of New York City bound for Colon [Panama].

Tanzer:  Why do you think they came by ship rather than by wagon? 
DURKHEIMER: Because the Indian hazard in crossing the plains was still a vital deterrent, and if they did not start in early spring then they would be caught in the Rocky Mountains during the severe cold weather, so they chose coming by water as well as my other family. 

Tanzer:  I found this to be true. I wonder Mr. Durkheimer do you know of anyone who came overland? 
DURKHEIMER: Oh, yes. This man Heppner, after whom Heppner is named. I know he came overland and perhaps if I’d think quite heavily I could recall a few more. But evidently the hazards were great and the hazards of water travel too were great; nevertheless, by comparison, they were less by water, and the Jewish thinking and action is to avoid trouble if possible. 

Tanzer: You know the histories say that no Jews came across in covered wagons. 
DURKHEIMER: Maybe a few did. 

Tanzer:         I just wondered. I’ve been trying to find out if some did. 
DURKHEIMER: Maybe a few did. There in Colon, they disembarked and with accompanying baggage crossed the isthmus in a horse-drawn wagon. Arriving in Balboa, [Panama] again they boarded ship bound for San Francisco. Martinez was finally selected to be their future western home and grandfather became engaged in the cattle business, fattening young stock for future market sales. He prospered and growth was registered in both numbers of cattle and three added children. Eight years of economic prosperity in Martinez was suddenly washed away, when during 1865 the Sacramento River went on an uncontrollable flood rampage, drowned out his cattle and he was without business, without industry and without capital. To assure a non-repeat occurrence of a like performance, a decision was soon made to move to Oregon. 

The family was to sail out of San Francisco harbor on July the 29th, 1865 on the steamer Brother Jonathan. On July the 28th, the wagon was loaded in Martinez with baggage and passengers. The family boarded as was planned. A team of two horses was to power the rig. The land travel was then begun. En route, one of the horses became sick, slowed progress and caused a much delayed arrival in San Francisco. In the meanwhile, the Brother Jonathan did sail on schedule but minus the delegation of six former Martinez residents. A keen disappointment indeed. So then, reservations with one week’s delay were obtained for the following sailing on the old side wheeler Oroflam, the alternate craft on the San Francisco to Portland run. A sick horse, a missed sailing, a week of delay, all these dark clouds had their silver lining, for on this preselected voyage and as of July the 30th, 1865, the Brother, Jonathan encountered a very severe ocean storm off the north coast of California, floundered and gave up survival with a loss of many passengers and crewman. So the Freid family eventually landed in Portland harbor during August 1865, all whole and intact. They were met by a representative of the Abraham Wing family, earlier arrivals in the west, who had chosen Vancouver, Washington to be the location for their new home. Whether previous family friendship had been established with the Wings I do not know but it was then most commonplace action for one Jew with kinsman relationship to welcome and aid another Jewish newcomer. During the brief period of Wing family hospitality, numerous situations were considered and studied to select a place for the Freid family to settle. With reasonable dispatch it was determined to locate at a crossroads location approximately five miles east of Marquam, so named after an early pioneer who had settled there. For further geographical identity, the spot is located about midway between Molalla and Silverton, nestled in the foothills on the west slope of the Cascades. Soon this location became popularly known by locals as “Freid’s Corner” and when I visited the place some eight years back it still was called by this identity. Well, somehow both a store building and a home structure were expeditiously obtained and merchandise soon filled the shelving and bins. A skeleton inventory of general merchandise had been assembled and public patronage was invited to purchase their domestic needs. Soon again however, disaster of lesser magnitude than the Martinez episode was to register. It happened in this manner: Moses Freid was a devout and pious Jew. He observed Jewish tradition and custom with alacrity. Shortly after the organization of his enterprise, Rosh Hashanah was at hand. Without special fanfare or public notification, the store remained locked in observance of this occasion. Neighboring Indians knew that on this day the store should be open for trading so they proceeded to open it and they did, without much physical effort, accomplish their objective. No one being present to serve their purchase requirements, as accommodating customers they adapted the modern system of self-service and be it said this day, the store experienced a magnificent movement of merchandise: food items, blankets, shoes, household hardware, etc. 

Tanzer:  Was there ever any payment made?
DURKHEIMER: The total value of merchandise so freely taken could not be estimated but the loss was a stunning blow of adversity to the new proprietor and his newly established undertaking. Even before replacement of new merchandise could be procured, a second Jewish holiday, Yom Kippur, was soon to be observed. Experience is a wonderful teacher. To protect the establishment from a repeated performance, this day’s anticipated closing was inclusive of a pre-planned protective measure. When the door was again closed and locked, to suspend midweek operation, a gentile neighbor was employed to stand outside the entrance to properly inform prospective customers why the store was not operating on that day. Two years of disappointing productivity at this location, spelled its termination and a second location was chosen at Butte Creek, 15 miles away a bit to the south and nearer to more white patronage and lesser Indian trading. This location too developed disappointing sales volume and two years later a third move was in process. This time the town of Hubbard won favorable approval and there a continuing operation was established for the next 17 years. At 70 years of age in 1880, Moses Freid retired, sold the business and moved his family to Portland where he lived until the time of his death in 1898. His wife Fanny passed away in 1896 at 72 years of age. Their Portland residence, which still stands, was located on 12th Street in mid-block, across the street from the former, two-steepled temple of Congregation Beth Israel at southwest 12th and Main Streets. 

I see your suggested outline for information sought is recollections of neighborhood and religious activities and how Portland has changed. Whereas I have nothing of special moment to record, other than what other oldsters may convey, perhaps some new feature might appear. Whereas Portland is divided into two sections by the Willamette River, during my childhood and youth years, west Portland was the unquestionable dominate sector, both population wise and economically. Quite naturally the most favored and popular location for Jewish residents was on the western side of the river. The earlier Jewish migration was almost exclusively of German heritage, living somewhat scattered residentially in several sections of the city. On the same block and street where my grandparents lived, were the Phillip Sellings and a family named Goldsmith. The husband of this family being a drummer, by today’s application, a travelling salesman. On the northeast corner of the block, at 12th and Jefferson Streets, stood a neighborhood livery barn patronized by nearby residents to house their horse and buggy. Another section of the city, between 16th and 19th on the east and west and Flanders and Irving on the south and north, was quite liberally populated with Jewish residents. Then shortly after the Lewis and Clark Exposition in 1805, a greater scattering movement was underway. Thereafter, a new influx of Jewry arrived from Eastern Europe. This latter group of arrivals centered their residences in South Portland. It was then, at this occasion that the older residents with civic inspiration and Jewish pride became interested in helping the newcomers to become assimilated within the society of their newly adopted homeland, establishing the Neighborhood House with its various services to aid and speed the required transition in language, customs, traditions to American standards. 

Tanzer: I have heard references, Mr. Durkheimer, to Second Avenue. Do you remember many residences in that area? 
DURKHEIMER: No, that I do not recall. My wife [Dorothy] was born on, I think, Fourth Avenue near Mill Street, [where] there was a settlement of Jewish people. 

Tanzer: The area had been a German colony or a German area and I wondered whether the early German Jews who came had perhaps settled there because of the familiarity with the German language. 
DURKHEIMER: There was a settlement there. I had not recalled that particular feature, but I do now recall that there was and as I say, my wife was born in that area. Her maiden name was Lowenson, and the Lowenson family were early pioneers in this city too, the grandparents coming from Germany and the parents coming from California. 

Tanzer: I believe, if I remember, that her grandparents had lived in that area close to Neighborhood House. 
DURKHEIMER: They did, yes. 

Tanzer: Did they live in the same area that she did, around Fourth or was it…? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, in that area. In those days it was very customary for the two generations to live in the same house. The elderly couples, as they grew older, if they had a married daughter or son, then this couple moved in to maintain house for the elderly couple. 

Tanzer: It’s a very nice tradition. 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, it is. My parents did that same thing when they moved here to Portland from Burns. They moved in with my mother’s parents and two bachelor brothers and maintained house for them until the demise of the grandparents and then when my parents moved into their new home on 24th and Lovejoy. The two bachelor brothers moved with them and were regular residents in our family home. 

Tanzer: Did they marry? 
DURKHEIMER: Subsequently, they both married. My grandparents were all early members of Congregation Beth Israel and were buried in that congregation’s cemetery. However, the maternal grandparents were disinterred and their remains were moved to the Portland Crematorium, the exact years of affiliation with the congregation are not known to me but the Temple records should be able to disclose this. It was before my period of recollection, so I cannot authentically record. But I do recall having heard my mother relate the disturbing era of dissension and dissatisfaction of considerable magnitude created at the time of Rabbi Isaac Wise’s reformed concept of Judaism which was then being introduced and adopted by the membership of Congregation Beth Israel.

Tanzer: That was Jonah Wise. 
DURKHEIMER: No. Jonah Wise was the son of Isaac Mayer Wise [who] was a rabbi in Cincinnati and it’s my recollection that Rabbi Block was the rabbi of Congregation Beth Israel at the time of its adoption of reform Jewry. 

Tanzer: I see. 
DURKHEIMER: This movement, as I was informed, caused quite an exodus of former Beth Israel congregants who then withdrew and subsequently the Ahavai Sholom congregation was formed by the more conservative group of believers. As a center for social activities, a Jewish membership club was formed called the Concordia Club. Have you any information on that? 

Tanzer: I have some I’m very happy you brought it up…. 
DURKHEIMER: I can recall its early tenancy on the second floor of a two story, brick building located on the corner of Sixth and Alder, replaced by a ten-story building. When this building was razed it was then replaced by a ten-story modern skyscraper named the Bedell with the Bedell Ladies Ready-To-Wear occupancy of the lower street level area. Today that structure bears the name of the Cascade Building. When the club lost its Sixth and Alder home, it bought the land on the Southeast corner of 16th and Morrison, built a three-story structure to serve it’s needs and continued its activities for about two decades and then with apparent waning demand for its services, the club was liquidated and the property was sold to the Fraternal Order of Elks. During my days of high school attendance, the Portland population was very much less than today’s recordings. During those years, 1907 to 1911, Portland High schools numbered only two, West Portland located at 14th and Morrison, later called Lincoln High, and East Portland on the east side of the river, later called Washington High. Because at that time the vast majority of Jewish families then lived on the Westside, naturally practically all of Jewish high school attendance was registered at West Portland High. I can hardly state that open anti-Jewish sentiment did exist but from time to time at this youthful level definite evidence did rise to the surface showing antagonistic and attempted disrespectful actions. As a group, scholastically, the Jewish students earned superior grades but socially, in student body activities, there was subtle discouraging disadvantages difficult to overcome. To counteract this adverse condition of circumstances, perhaps promoted by a coloring of self-defense during either 1907 or 1908, a new organization was formulated by the Jewish School students, by the male Jewish high school students. It subsequently acquired the name of the Oregonia Club. It was never designed nor did it ever attempt to become an official adjunct of high school activities or synagogue affiliation but carried on totally independently and free of either of these associations. It used the gymnasium of the Concordia Club for its indoor athletic headquarters, such as basketball practice and wrestling contests and rented the Concordia Ballroom to hold its annual dance social. Open lots in various locations within the nearby residential area was where our baseball team practiced. I don’t recall the frequency of the club’s business meetings but I do recall they were always held in the home of a member. This too, was quite a singular accomplishment. 

Tanzer: How large was the membership? 
DURKHEIMER: I’ll disclose that. Namely a monthly issue of a very creditable magazine similar to the Cardinal, the high school publication, publishing local more or less personal Jewish activities and Oregonia events as we considered to be of importance and newsworthy. Advertisements were solicited from various retailers, thus supplying the funds necessary to meet publication costs. Circulation was not too extensive, maybe less than a 150 per issue. Neither was it too expensive to the reader, because distribution was absolutely free of cost. This whole enterprise gave beneficial experiences of business operations to the membership, continuing occupation of a healthy productive type and promoted good fellowship and generated camaraderie among the participants and assured the necessary funds for our annual ball, bringing youthful boys and girls together socially for each of these occasions. Unfortunately the life span of this grouping terminated after a number of years of loyal activity, the ending having been caused by lack of inviting new younger membership to replace the older and the fact that the interests, habits and habitats of young men in their early 20s had shifted. As of today, to the best of my knowledge, of the original 20 or 25 members, only three of the veterans survive: one now a resident in Melbourne, Australia and two living in Portland. 

Tanzer: Who are these people? 
DURKHEIMER: A man by the name of Edgar Levy, who was of Australian birth and he came here in his youth to learn the fur trade. His uncle was a man by the name of Silverfield, who ran a very prominent retail fur establishment then located on 4th and Morrison Streets, the northwest corner. He came here and made contact with the group of which I was a member and we took him …

Tanzer: Mr. Durkheimer, I would like to ask you about the company of Bamberger and Frank that you referred to earlier. Where did these families come from and where did they go? 
DURKHEIMER: The Bamberger family was distantly related to my father’s family. I think that was the original connection that made it possible for my father to go to Baker as a youth of seventeen. Many years later they had a son, Carten Bamberger, and my family had an opportunity to reciprocate. When Carten Bamberger developed into young manhood he moved from Baker to Portland and my father gave him employment at Wadhams & Company. That was quite a common custom at that time. This man Frank subsequently moved to Los Angeles and he became very prominent politically, socially and was economically very successful. He was the Frank who formed a partnership with another Jewish gentleman by the name of Harris and their firm today is a publicly owned concern by the name of Harris & Frank engaged in the men’s ready-to-wear business.   

Tanzer: I would also like to inquire about your father’s term as mayor of Burns.
DURKHEIMER: Well, he was mayor of Burns according to the material that I have been able to uncover in the year 1895. In the and as I reviewed some of the publicity in the Burns paper published during that year, his name was frequently mentioned as he was active on the school board and in the volunteer Fire department. I noted that he was a prominent merchant there because approximately eight years ago the Oregon Historical Society sponsored a migration to the Malheur Bird refuge and ran two huge busses with membership patronage and there was also a train of maybe 20 cars. The twenty cars, privately owned that made up this party and the first night’s entertainment was in Burns at which time the Junior Chamber of Commerce Membership acted as hosts, a banquet was served under their auspices in the cafeteria of the school and somehow word got about that I was in the party so some of the old timers who knew my Father button-holed me and pried me for information and volunteered information to me of my Father’s life there. 

A banquet was served under their auspices in the cafeteria of the high school and somehow word got about that I was in the party and some of the old timers up there who knew  my father during the period of his residence, singled me out, button-holed me and pried me for information and volunteered information to me of my father’s life there. 

Tanzer: Did you derive my information about his term as mayor? 
DURKHEIMER: Only to the effect that he must have been pretty well respected because he was [elected] to the position by popular vote. If he had not been of good repute and if he had not been a popular citizen of the community, he would not have achieved that accomplishment. 

Tanzer: Did your parents talk very much about their life in Baker? 
DURKHEIMER: In Baker? 

Tanzer: I mean in Burns, I’m sorry. 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, that is where I draw on my memory now, having heard so many references to their experiences there. When they were reviewing their days in Eastern Oregon, as a matter of conversation over the dining room table. 

Tanzer: Why do you think they determined to move to Portland? 
DURKHEIMER: There were several reasons for that. In the first place, I was told that my mother did not relish the idea of having to become an Eastern Oregonian in a primitive community, which was [what] a foregone conclusion that she would do if she were to marry my father. He and he made the commitment at that time that within a ten-year period he would be amply secure that they could move out of Eastern Oregon and return again to the Willamette Valley. Another reason was that my parents, my grandparents, my mother’s parents were growing older and she felt the responsibility to come here and keep house for them. So it was a combination of both these facts that I think precipitated the sell out in Burns and the move to Portland. 

DURKHEIMER: There Well, that was an event that took place in Canyon City when my father was a merchant there. It so happened that he was married to my mother in July of 1889 and after a combination of a business trip and a honeymoon to California the young couple returned to Canyon City where their new home was established and they had an experience with the Indians, approximately three months after returning to Canyon City. There was a band of g Paiute Indians that were roaming the country, resisting the influx of pioneer development, raiding farms, burning hay, killing or driving off the cattle and also killing some of the settlers. Well, such marauding action like this naturally aroused the whites that were in the area to self-defense. This particular band of Indians seemed to be making progress in the northern direction, coming from the Klamath area originally. The merchants of Canyon City, to defend their community, from a raid and possible fire destruction formulated a vigilante committee. After they had armed themselves they were in readiness to welcome these Indians, 24 hours around the clock, but the community of Canyon City itself was too hazardous for the noncombatant residents to live there so the women were removed from the city and hidden in some abandoned miners’ caves in the hills nearby. The only women residents of repute at that time that could be gathered together were three. I am sorry that I cannot recall the name of the third one but one of them was my mother, the second was Mrs. Phil Metscham, Sr. and the third I fail to recall her name. Well these three women were housed in one miner’s cave. Another miner’s cave was used to house the other females of the community who happened to be residents of the houses of prostitution so the female element of Canyon City in those days was divided by occupation. 

Tanzer: Did your parents decide to move back to Portland because life was so difficult? 
DURKHEIMER: Oh, no. Life was recognized to be difficult, full of hardships in Eastern Oregon in those days. There was no such thing as electricity so coal oil lamps were used for illumination. There was no such thing as modern equipment for home use. There were no sewers or plumbing. Outhouses were used and then when it came time for winter, with the extreme cold and that they had heavy snowfalls. There were a lot of physical privations and inconveniences that the newcomers, the whites were caused to contend with, so it happened to be a foregone conclusion that Eastern Oregon should not be a permanent home for my parents. I had heard from their lips that an agreement was entered into that my father said he would be sufficiently successful in his enterprise there so that a maximum of ten years would be all that was necessary for Eastern Oregon residents and then they could leave that area. Also to show you the hazards and difficulties of the times, the only means of travel then was in a buckboard or horse drawn. buggy, and when in Canyon City was 125 or 135 miles from a railroad, which was a hard drive, particularly in the wintertime to get to the fringe of civilization as it existed at that time. When he did sell his Canyon City store he moved further inland, another 95 miles to Burns. I don’t remember whether I told you this on a previous record or not, but when the time came for my advent, there was no Doctor nearer than Canyon City which was 250 miles distant and I was scheduled for arrival in March before the winter storms could be completely washed away from the hazards of travel. So rather than go to Baker City for medical assistance at the time of my birth, mother chose to come to Portland. 

Tanzer: Do you recall their talking about any religious observance at all in any of these cities? In any way did they maintain religious observance? 
DURKHEIMER: There were scattered Jewish residents in practically any trading place; it might be one family or two families at most and I am not aware that there was any house of worship, Jewish house of worship nearer to them than Portland at that time. 

Tanzer: Did they come to Portland for the high holy days? Do you know?
DURKHEIMER: I don’t think that my parents did that, for two reasons. To begin with, my father was not closely allied at that time to any Jewish organizations and he didn’t feel the pull to bring him to the services. And for mother to make the trip because she was more religiously inclined, it was too difficult and physically fatiguing to make the trip under the circumstances then prevailing. 

Tanzer: Then you moved back to Portland when you were quite young? 
DURKHEIMER: Well, after about six months of living in Canyon City after their marriage, a group of potential buyers came along and wanted to purchase my father’s store. Didn’t I relate this in a previous recording? Well, then I can review that briefly, which will in part answer your question. The tender was so great that my father couldn’t say no, so with reasonable dispatch, the Canyon City store was sold to new owners. At this time my father was also the owner of the operation in Prairie City and in Burns, so he was a pioneer chain store operator running three units in those days. Well, he having put his brother Mose in charge of the Prairie City store, didn’t I review his going there? Yes, then it was concluded that Mose should acquire the Prairie City store and in short order that was completed. Then Father, then father pulled up stakes and moved to Burns and established his residence there and in those days Burns was anything but a metropolis. It had few business establishments. It was located in the midst of the sagebrush land. There was no saw mill in the area, but there was in the nearby environs some timber; but anyhow he moved to Burns and the move to Burns was at the tag end of the year 1889 and in 1895 he served as Mayor of Burns. Did I tell you that in the previous recording? 

Tanzer: I wanted that information. 
DURKHEIMER: Then you have that, so there is no reason to repeat it. Then in 1896 he disposed of the Burns operation and his residence in Burns as well and then the family moved to Portland. And that’s how the step-by- step development took place. Going there to leaving there. 

Tanzer: What do you recall about Portland? What are your earliest memories? 
DURKHEIMER: Well, in those days it was quite common for the younger generation to move into the household of the older generation as the older people acquired old age, and when my parents moved to Portland, they moved into my grandfather’s residence then located at 254 12th Street which prior to being known as 12th street was 10th Street. This was right across the street from the old two-steepled Temple Beth Israel synagogue and there my mother maintained the household for her parents and two bachelor brothers that made this home also their headquarters. 

Tanzer: Where did you go to school? 
DURKHEIMER: When I first went to school, I attended what was called Park School then located where the Art Museum now stands on West Park and Jefferson Street. In 1900 my father built a new home in an undeveloped area of Portland on the Northwest corner of 24th and Lovejoy Streets. When we moved out there, then I was in what is called the Chapman School district and I went to school for several years at the Chapman School which was then located approximately six or eight blocks north of the present Chapman School. That reminds me of an incident that was an annual occurrence. In those days there was very, very sparse settlement to the north and the west of where my father’s home was located. There was however, a fringe of civilization on 23rd Street. I say a fringe of civilization because there was a street car track running north and south on 23rd Street that ultimately led to the Willamette Heights area which was then a new residential district just being developed. For my customary means of travel from home to school, I crossed vacant pasture lands, maybe climbed a fence or two, cutting a short pathway from [my]our residence to school. But, but in the Fall off each year, that area housed an Indian encampment of Warm Springs Indians when the squaws would set up their tepees and live there in Indian fashion for several weeks at a time. I was afraid of these Indians so [to]I would circumvent this hazard, I would go down Lovejoy Street to 23rd and down 23rd to Thurman and up Thurman to approximately 26th and then down north again to the Chapman School. Then I had to retrace this circuitous trip every day coming home after school. Well, the interesting thing in my memory about these squaws was that the white women residents would go there with their old clothes and barter off these clothes for Indians baskets, or something else that the squaws had made that were treasured by the whites and I can re-visualize some of the bartering or trading episodes that my mother had with these Indians. 

Tanzer: Can you recall anything specific? 
DURKHEIMER: Well, my mother had collected over the years quite a collection of Indian baskets. They no longer exist in the family possessions. I don’t know what ultimately became of them, but she had quite an extensive collection. These squaws, as you can well understand were un-corseted women. They wanted large clothing and the Jewish women in those days were not like they are today. They were a pretty stout bunch themselves, so that the clothing that my mother had to offer had definite appeal to these squaws. 

Tanzer: I think you mentioned that you were not frightened to go with your mother? 
DURKHEIMER: No, I had the protection of someone older, so when I was accompanied by my mother, my fear vanished. 

Tanzer: Tell me more about Portland at that time, Mr. Durkheimer, as you were growing up. 
DURKHEIMER: Well, I do have some recollections. During the period of my boyhood days, about the turn of the century, Portland’s inhabitants were hovering somewhere around the 90,000 figure [in]to represent their population. Also, at that time, the shoreline of the Willamette River was spotted with numerous lumber mills located from Linnton upstream to Sellwood. In those days, logs were dumped into the Columbia and Willamette rivers, rafted for transport, then towed to some established mill site to be transformed into lumber for domestic consumption. The outside bark covering of these logs was first removed at the lumber mill, cutting into the logs, perhaps four or five inches deep to remove the outer bark covering. This removal created a product that was then sawed into four- foot lengths, being transformed into fuel products, which by trade identity was called slab wood. As I recall, this slab wood then had a market value ranging from $2.50 to $4 a cord, dependent upon the size and the quality of grading — the larger, heavier pieces being preferred. This cost figure was inclusive of delivery and stacking on the curbing or the street abutting the curbing at the buyer’s residences. The standard measurement for a cord was a stack piled four foot by four foot running eight-foot-high, which computes to 128 cubic feet for furnace and cooking stove fuel. For my father’s home, the annual purchase was 20 cords per year. I have no recollection of any Jews being interested at that time in logging or lumber, but there was a large mill located near Linnton owned and operated by a Japanese [man] by the name of S. Ban. The S. Ban Mill wasn’t very far away from the Eastern and Western Lumber Company, which was one of the largest mills at that time in this area. Of course, and quite naturally, the slab wood had absorbed a goodly quantity of H2O during its transit from the forest to the mill. In the saturated condition it was unsuitable for immediate storage in the home basements. Not until after a protracted four-week dry out in the wind and sun during the months of June, July and August, was it acceptable to be put in the basement because it not only smelled, it would mold and be objectionable. Consequently, it was a very common sight to see countless numbers of wood stacked in piles in every residential section of the city, weathering and conditioning and curing during this dehydration process. When properly aged and [ready] for further processing, there appeared an itinerant steam powered contraption drawn by two horses and manned by two men, making application at the residence for the job of sawing [the slabs] into stove and furnace size lengths, customarily 16 inches long So it became an annual seasonal event, for weeks upon weeks, when every resident in a residential neighborhood was daily entertained by the whine and wheeze and woof of the steam saw biting into the wood, grinding out and transforming big wood into little ones. 

Tanzer: How close were you in your neighborhood to shopping, to schools, to Temple? 
DURKHEIMER: Oh, we were maybe two miles, or at least a one and a half mile walk from the home to the synagogue for Sunday School. Many people in those days had their own horse and buggy — that was before the days of the automobile and our family had a horse and buggy too. There was a livery barn on Johnson Street between 21st and 22nd. Subsequently it was transformed into the Portland Riding Academy, but that is where the residents in that particular area kept their horses and buggies. Very few residents at that time had their own stable adjacent to their home. 

Tanzer: What about the shopping? Where was the shopping done? 
DURKHEIMER: There was no such thing as neighborhood shopping. There was a small neighborhood grocery store located on 23rd and Irving at that time. I don’t recall the man’s name, but he had the employee situation well under control, because he had two daughters. Mitchell was his name. Mr. Mitchell, Mitchell’s Grocery, had these two daughters who were the personnel of that store. In those days all grocers maintained credit accommodation and furnished delivery, so the housewife did not have to do her shopping as she does today. My wife, when we were married, right after World War I, established an account with a retail grocer then located –, we were then living on 25th and Northrup –, on 23 rd and Kearney. It was a retail grocery store run by a Jewish man by the name of David Sugarman. David Sugarman was, if I recall correctly, a Romanian or Bulgarian Jew who had migrated to this country, and then he had ultimately gotten into the retail grocery business and he was established there for many years. During the early married years of my life, my wife used to go to the phone every morning, shortly after 8 o’clock, phone her wants to the grocer and before the noon hour the merchandise was delivered and once a month the bill was tabulated and paid for. 

Tanzer: What about the method of shopping at the farms in the area? 
DURKHEIMER: Farms? Oh, that’s another recollection that I wouldn’t of thought of if you hadn’t reminded me. There were some farmers who lived out on Cornell Road and they would come in with their farm produce in the summer time and deliver the merchandise to different customers where they had established a rout. Also I am reminded that in other periods of the year there were Chinamen who went around in their rigs, calling “vegetables, vegetables” and the housewife would answer that by coming out and the Chinaman would stop his horse-drawn rig and sell his merchandise and bring it into the kitchen — that is the way greens were acquired.

I can also recall a very, very interesting episode. In those days, cucumbers were considered quite a delicacy, but not fit for human consumption until they had been well soaked, I think, in salt brine. We used to have cucumber salad with more or less frequency when they were in season. I can recall that we had salads served with more or less frequency, salads of various nature, tomatoes, cucumbers or what not, but when the Chinaman was delivering to the customer, his greens, some of my neighborhood pals and I would climb onto the wagon and swipe two or three cucumbers and run away before the Chinaman would come out. We ate those cucumbers, never suffering one iota from the poison that the housewife had extracted by the salt treatment. Fortunately, I was never caught in the act. I never had to appear before any juvenile court and I was never labeled a jailbird. 

Tanzer: We will call this the cucumber episode. Do you recall a sense of community within your neighborhood? 
DURKHEIMER: Within our neighbors? 

Tanzer: Within your neighborhood–a sense of community?
DURKHEIMER: Do you mean with Jewish residents? 

Tanzer: Or with the neighborhood in general. 
DURKHEIMER: There were very close ties. As a matter of fact right next to us on 24th Street, when we first moved into this area, was a family by the name of Joe Teal. I believe Joe Teal was a half Jew, but he was a very prominent attorney in the city at that time. Immediately to the north of this house, when Stephen Wise moved to Portland, he and his family lived there on 24th and Marshall Street. Right across the street from them Arthur Eppstein established his residence there and immediately to the west of us, the Mose Baruch family lived. I am recalling now, in the year 1914, Dr. Laurence Selling married Adelaide Lowenson and they established their residence across the street and two blocks east of us. So with this brief review you can see there was quite a little settlement of Jews in this particular or immediate neighborhood. 

Tanzer: With whom did you spend most of your time? 
DURKHEIMER: The Baruch family that lived right next door were related. Mrs. Baruch and my mother were sisters. The Baruchs had three children. I was an only child and they were [of] contemporaneous in age, so I did most of my playing with the Baruch family children. 

Tanzer: So you spent most of your time with family? 
DURKHEIMER: That’s right. 

Tanzer: What about your close friends, did they live in the neighborhood, did they go to school with you? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, one of my very close friends at that time was a man by the name of Leiser Cohn who lived on Irving Street between 23rd and 24th. This particular family was Sephardic Jews and very religious in their following the precepts and customs, habits of the Jewish faith and Leiser Cohn and I, if we went to synagogue on Saturday we walked, because he was not permitted to ride the street car. If we went there on Sunday and the weather was so bad that it was not good judgment to walk, then we were given our nickel apiece to pay for the carfare to go to Sunday School and back again, another five-cent expenditure. 

Tanzer: Did he attend Temple Beth Israel with you? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes. This family was a very prominent family in Portland in those days. David Solis Cohen, who was a very influential citizen in his heyday and an attorney by profession, was a member of the family and Leiser’s mother was a Rafael, also a very religious, expressive family and they lived on Ellis Street; this rekindles a thought in my mind that Ellis Street was a regular ghetto area in that there were so many Jews residing there. I can recall the Prager family, the Sichels, the Oppenheimers. A Jewish family that I recall being a resident there was the Ben Neustadter family, so you see there were a great many Jewish families resident on this street of one block length running north and south from Washington to Everett. Ellis Street was located between 21st and 20th Street on the west side. 

Tanzer: What sort of activities stand out in your memory as being important to you as a young man? 
DURKHEIMER: I think I reviewed for you on a previous interview the activity of the so-called Oregonia Club. That was the perhaps [the] number one social, physical and entertaining agency that the young Jewish boys with whom I associated had as the magnet drawing them together. 

Tanzer: Was there a counterpart in a young woman’s club? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes. There was an organization called the MM Club that the girls were interested in. My wife was a member of that. I don’t think there are many surviving members today, but that was the companion organization for the girl’s activities. 

Tanzer: What did MM signify? 
DURKHEIMER: Why they adopted MM, my wife can’t recall now, but they wanted to have some identify so they chose it. Then they had to had some kind of an answer for the many questions proposed, what does MM mean, and all we could get was “Milo Maintaino.” That may be Greek, it could be Latin, I don’t know, but it means nothing as far as I understand, but the name was Maintaino. 

Tanzer: What of these activities were most significant to you? 
DURKHEIMER: What were they? 

Tanzer: Why were they significant? 
DURKHEIMER: Well, because it built a camaraderie with the membership, it served as an outlet for athletic activities, it generated a social accomplishment in dances, theatre parties or whatever was in the organization. 

Tanzer: Do you recall any activities at the Neighborhood House or with the Neighborhood House? 
DURKHEIMER: No activities with the Neighborhood House. No, the activities were conducted at the Concordia Club building then located on 16th and Morrison Street. The Neighborhood House was a long distance away. Transportation was not easy in those days, so there was nothing to make it easy for the residents of North Portland to transport themselves way into the heart of South Portland. 

Tanzer: Mr. Durkheimer, do you recall any particular social activity, young people’s activities that was held in school, or at the Temple or at the Community Center? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, I can recall two events at the moment. Once we held a picnic in a public park then located where St. Johns is today. To get there we had to take the electric line that ran out Union Avenue on the east side as far as Killingsworth and then we transferred to a little steam engine powered plant that dragged three or four cars from this Union and Killingsworth station running out to a location, which, if I recall correctly, [that]was called Peninsula Perk and that was not located very far from where Portland University now stands. This was a Sunday School picnic, but I can also recall another Sunday School picnic for Beth Israel attendance. This was approximately [in] the year 1900 or the year 1903, or one of the years between. It was held at a riverbank landing on the west shore line of the Willamette at a place then called Lagoon ‘s Landing. In those days there were very few dockside landings. The river boats when they wanted to make a landing merely nosed into the shallow water and then a gang plank was thrown from the deck to the shore line and perhaps you walked over three or four feet of water from the boat and on to the dry land. We landed at this Lagoons Landing and the Sunday School group disembarked and the boat pulled off and went upstream on its regular course run to Oregon City and then on its return trip it again made a repeat landing and the Sunday School group boarded the boat over a gang plank and we returned to a dock which was located, as I recall, near the foot of Stark Street and our picnic day ended. The boats were then the common carrier for passengers as well as freight because the roads were poor. Auto trucks had not become common carriers and horse drawn vehicles were too slow so the major tonnage of traffic was carried on the water. 

Tanzer: Mr. Durkheimer, was life in Portland changed by World War I, the subsequent depression and then World War II? 
DURKHEIMER: Wars always change the social and economic progress for the nations involved. Somehow they seem to stimulate progress in one way, though it is a very costly advancement. Portland was an industrial center prior to World War I and the development of the flying machine was a new factor in warfare. Prior to World War I the cavalry was the scout for the army, but when the airplane was used it replaced the cavalry as an observations obtainer. Neighboring close to Portland, particularly in the coastal area, was a specie of forest called Spruce, that was a very desirable piece of lumber for the early airplane construction. The United States army established a unit called the Spruce Division with headquarters at the old Vancouver Barracks in Washington and that changed. It added a stimulus to the industrial tempo of this community. In addition to that, we were an exporting nation, selling our product to foreign countries, traffic being water born, so as a shipping community we became very active, particularly in selling grain to our allies in Europe. In those days, a goodly portion of the tonnage of wheat and flour that was shipped out of the Portland market was borne by windjammers making the run. That was a big trade just before the turn of the century and I can recall having seen maybe 30 or 35 sailing vessels anchored in midstream in the Willamette River waiting for their turn to be shifted to a dock for loading grain for European export. 

Tanzer: How did the Depression affect the city and your life? 
DURKHEIMER: My recollections of the economic Depression period immediately following World War I are not very clear or very extensive. However I do recall that we did have a few bank failures here and one of them was the Oregon Trust and Savings Bank then located on, as I recall, on 6th and Washington Street. Another bank that had difficulty at that time was located on 4th and Washington called the Hibernia Bank and another bank was then located on 2nd and Washington called the Title Guaranty and Trust Company. It so happened that Leo Fried, a prominent citizen of Portland of the Jewish faith, was one of the Directors of the Oregon Trust and Savings Bank at the time of its financial difficulty and I do recall that he did receive numerous threatening telephone calls and mail communications from various depositors because of the anticipation of monetary loss by their depositors. 

Tanzer: During the period between the depression and World War II, there was the rise of Hitler in Europe and I wonder if you can recall how that affected this particular community, especially the Jewish Community? 
DURKHEIMER: Let me go back, if I may please, to answer this question. It followed World War I, whereas there was not the anti-Jewish feeling in Germany at that time, [but] which was part of the experience of the Jewish citizens during World War II. Nevertheless, there was a bitter antipathy for Germans after World War I. I can recall, for example, that one of the largest milling organizations on the Pacific Coast was then called the Albers Bros. Milling Co. and they had mills established in every seaport community on the Pacific Coast. The Albers Bros. received their original impetus for business success during the Spanish American War when they sold their grain and flour to Uncle Sam for export into the Philippines. The Albers Bros. themselves were very successful manipulators, but it so happened that some of the Albers brothers, one in particular, had a very strong German sympathy. During World War II,  he expressed [it] too freely from time to time and consequently he was branded as an undesirable, disloyal American citizen. The product of the Albers mill bore the family name Albers and there arose a regular tidal wave of disapproval by every American housewife, a refusal to accept any merchandise which bore the name Albers. So what merchandise [there] was on retail shelves, just rested there and didn’t move. No retailer would order replacement merchandise. The Albers Brothers Milling Company was led up a blind alley and when it got to the terminus, it had to quit. It was subsequently absorbed by the Carnation people, who changed the name by dropping everything that had the identity of Albers. Henry Albers was so unpopular that he was ruled out of membership in several American organizations. 

Tanzer: What was the reaction of the Jews of Portland to the rise of Hitler and the difficulties in Germany? 
DURKHEIMER: Well, you must recall that the war between the central powers and the allies was a product of maybe 12 or 14 months or longer before Woodrow Wilson declared war on Germany involving the United States in active participation. During this period there was a very divided opinion of Jewish sympathy for or against Germany because up to this particular time, the anti-Jewish activity had not really taken root within Germany. There were many American Jews of German extraction or even German birth, who had an impelling loyalty for their former Fatherland and who spoke with frequency and freedom, championing the cause of Germany and opposing the cause of England and France. But when war was finally declared, calling troops into action to fight Germany and the central powers, they sided very suddenly and permanently. 

Tanzer: Within your recollection, Mr. Durkheimer, can you recall the early business and commercial life in Portland? 
DURKHEIMER: I can recall some, some from my own recollection and others from reports that I had received from time to time, listening to conversations of my parents and their associates. Early Portland, during the last half of the 19th Century that is within my period of recollection, had developed into an important, active trading center, more independent of California dependency than it had been previously. During this same period Seattle too was growing into individualist prominence. During this period [it] was developing competitive to Portland, but being of later settlement it had not yet gained sufficient stature to be a formidable rival of Portland with its many older, established, larger and publicly better known commercial enterprises. Listed among the then prominent firms in Portland at wholesale level were numerous establishments with names indicative of definite Jewish Ownership. With the span of time and the passing away of numerous founding personnel, as well as the effects of attrition registered by sale or merger or terminal liquidation, many of the one-time flourishing mercantile giants vanished from life and vision, like a mirage, leaving for records only the memory of the one-time formidability and functional importance. For example, at wholesale level I recall the once dominant firms of Blumauer and Frank Drug Company, subsequently absorbed by the McKesson organization. The M. Seller & Co. operation engaged in crockery, kitchenware and toy distribution, having liquidated. Hexter & Company in hardware, now an absentee. Goodman Bros., Joe and Norris, selling boots and shoes, gone. Rosenfeld-Smith Company had been important factors as tobacco products distributors, also the firm of Gerson-Hart was in this same line of business. These firms are no more. The liquor Industry had its representation with Jewish ownership, too. Firms known as Blumauer-Hoch and Rothschild and Company all survived only in memory. A brewery was operating in the neighboring community of Vancouver owned by Arnold Blitz, later to be transferred to Portland and merged with its more dominant rival [Henry], Weinhard, which continues operation today under its consolidated name of both former units, Blitz-Weinhard Brewery. Also, there was a wholesale millinery concern of considerable prestige, with the trade name of Lowengart and Co. Perhaps if measured by sales volume, produced and the dominant prestige in its field of operation was the dry good house of Fleishner-Mayer; for size and magnitude [it] would perhaps lead that venerable list of now extinct operations. Surely in this review I do not want to overlook the wholesale grocery industry. Such firms as Lang & Company, Mason Ehrman & Co. and Wadhams & Company, all being Jewish companies owned and operated, the last named by the record of past and present happens to be the only survivor in this industry continuing to function today. Now to recall some merchandising activities at retail level in Portland that were prestigious during years past in their respective lines quite parallel to my reporting at wholesale level. The mortality record runs quite high. It is equally true some do, with successor ownerships either publicly or privately held, do continue operating today, carrying on with their original name identity, such as the department stores Meier & Frank and Lipman, the latter, in time having dropped off the original identification of Wolfe & Company. Its original name was Lipman, Wolfe & Company. And another example is Rosenblatts, in the men’s ready-to-wear sales having contracted its present name from Samuel Rosenblatt & Company, to Rosenblatt. The operation called Millers-for-Men was previously known as Millers’ Clothing Store and it is quite exceptional and singular in ownership continuance, having been successfully, consecutively managed by an uninterrupted chain of successor family descendants, family members of the original founder. Additional retail clothing firms once prominent in their line, but now extinct were, Ben Selling, AB Steinboch and Moyer, all applying their personal names to their respective merchandising operations. Some trade names in this line of business too were more or less common, such as the Red Front Store operated by a man by the name of Rothschild and the Chicago Clothing Store, run by brothers Max and George Lowenson. Among the missing today in the retail jewelry field are A and C Feldenheimer, Freidlanders and Dan Marx. Retailers such as Leopold Meyer and M. Levinson were active in their respective retail grocery stores. Simon Wolfe operated a millinery store called the Wonder and not to be forgotten or overlooked as a great institution in its heyday, was the Eastern Outfitting Company founded by Joseph Shemanski. These are all now just memories of the past except for the Miller operation that I spoke of a moment ago. Then, too, there was organized and developed, under the guiding genius of a man named Leo Samuel, what was called the Oregon Life Insurance Company. Later as its activities spread into neighboring states and they want[ed] a less restrictive name identity, its name was changed to the Standard Insurance Company. Now, please let me emphasize that I make no pretense that this, my review, is a complete listing of Portland’s continuing and/or vanishing pioneering enterprises. It is merely an exposure of my present personal memory and not a tabulation obtained from historical documentation. Is this, Mrs. Tanzer, the specie of information as you wish to obtain? 

Tanzer: Yes, Mr. Durkheimer, this is exactly it. I would like, if you could tell me a bit about the outstanding merchants and their contributions to the community. 
DURKHEIMER: Well, in that particular regard, the outstanding leader of all, preeminent in his activities, was Ben Selling. He did stand out very, very strong, as an energetic and accomplished money getter for any cause that he espoused. 

Tanzer: Can you tell me a bit about his specific activities? 
DURKHEIMER: Oh, they are so numerous, I hesitate to tell you. It wasn’t only Jewish causes. Any civic enterprise, he was the leader. As a matter of fact, he was recognized, to some extent locally, having served in the State Legislature and at one time he did have aspiration to become a US Senator. But as I recall that particular campaign, a man by the name of Dr. Lane, who was a Democrat by party, came off victorious and that is what I believe terminated Ben Selling’s political career. 

Tanzer: That is interesting because I wondered if his activities had been political or social. 
DURKHEIMER: Both, definitely both. 

Tanzer: And the causes for which he raised money were social causes? 
DURKHEIMER: They were social or philanthropic yes, and he was a very generous man in offering financial aid to later arrivals from Europe and he did assist, if not completely establish, many of them in their business enterprises after their arrival here.

Tanzer: Do you remember any specific cases of this? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, but I hate to disclose it because maybe the successors of the family would not particularly appreciate it. Yes, I am aware of several, but I think it more politic not to disclose. 

Tanzer: Well, it would not be revealed, particularly, if you wanted to keep the transcript closed, you could do it without revealing the names, Mr. Durkheimer. 
DURKHEIMER: I don’t quite understand. 

Tanzer: Well, this transcript, nothing will be released without your approval in terms of disseminating any information to be gathered. It is closed unless you approve opening it. You could also reveal the specific ways Mr. Selling helped people without revealing names, if you knew particular situations. 
DURKHEIMER: He never did anything of this nature for publicity. That he never did. No, I think it is more diplomatic not to particularly cite, although I am conversant with several instances. 

Tanzer: Well, I do know that he would frequently call people in other areas of the state and ask them to relocate someone who was coming in. Take them in and find a job for them. 
DURKHEIMER: That’s right. He was very active in that regard and I might say that his wife, Tillie Selling, was also very active in the Neighborhood House, particularly during the period when it was necessary for these newcomers to be made familiar with the customs and the ideas and ideals of the area and even to familiarize themselves with the English language. 

Tanzer: Did Mr. Shemanski work in this same general way? 
DURKHEIMER: He may have been a contributor because he was a generous man for any cause that may appeal to him, but he did not do the soliciting that Ben Selling did. That was where Ben Selling shone as a…

Tanzer: Were these people, would you call them the leaders of the Jewish community of their time? 
DURKHEIMER There was no question about it. 

Tanzer: Of the people that you have mentioned and the businesses, are there others to whom you would attribute leadership within the social and political community? 
DURKHEIMER: Of those that I have mentioned in this review? 

Tanzer: Yes. 
DURKHEIMER: I would say they may have been participants, but at a much lower level of recognition. They may have been donors, but they were not the activists who would tramp the streets and call on people and collect the funds. 

Tanzer: I am interested, you mentioned these names, that so few of them have survived. To what do you attribute the demise of so many of the wholesale and retail companies? 
DURKHEIMER: I would say that that was due to first, economic development where the original founders of the firms have spent their life’s effort in creating it and as they became too old to continue with the enterprise. In some instances, there was deficiency in ability by the younger generation to meet the challenges that their father had successfully met. That is one of the things that cause the changes. Another thing, failure to achieve a proper degree of success, as the younger generation came on, caused changes in ownership to follow. And sometimes the younger generation chose a profession for its life career rather than a commercial life and that would spell the end of the line for that house. An excellent example is the Ben Selling operation. He had only one son, a doctor who was a very prominent physician in this community, Dr. Lawrence Selling.  It so happens, by coincidence, [that] he was my brother-in-law and one of the reasons I am conversant with the details. He didn’t want to follow a commercial [life] and then when Ben Selling became old, older, he didn’t want to continue in this business and the business was liquidated. At that time, according to my recollection, when it was liquidated, it was the number one business of its character in the city, but it wasn’t sold to someone else, because he wouldn’t sell the name of Ben Selling. 

Tanzer: That is interesting. Then how do you attribute the survival of your own firm, as being one of the rare wholesale firms to continue generations from your father to yourself and now to your family? 
DURKHEIMER: Now I have some grandsons in it. That will be the fourth generation with these grandsons. I can only say that in my particular instance, my boys heard nothing but commercialism from me. I wasn’t a professional man and when it came time for them to seek their own activity they chose to follow in my footsteps, quite similar to the manner [in] which I elected to follow in the footsteps of my father. 

Tanzer: At the time that you decided to follow in the footsteps of your father, had you considered any other course of action? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, I had. I had studied law and was admitted to the Bar and then Uncle Sam said he needed my very, very valuable services in the Navy. and I had never acquainted myself very much with the water or its problems or its duty, but Uncle Sam accepted me in the Navy. I signed up for the duration of the war and I was in the service two weeks after war was declared. Some of my friends criticized me for that sudden action, but it was what I felt was timely then. I was in the service until the hostilities were terminated. I was stationed at Princeton University going through officer training, expecting to get my commission in the Navy when the Armistice was signed on November 11th, 1918. I was to complete my course at the end of that December, and as the termination of the course arrived, I was given the option to receive my commission or be discharged from the service. It so happened at that time that I was engaged to be married and I thought I had better get out of that service for the duration for another service. As a result, I have been in the second enlistment for 55 years plus now, because I am in for the duration. 

Tanzer: You have a special commission. 
DURKHEIMER: And then when I [realized] that it would be a considerable pull to earn enough money for living as a married man, so I decided to go into the business. That was the turning point in my career. Instead of following the law as a profession I followed commerce. 

Tanzer: Did the Depression effect these businesses, your business included? 
DURKHEIMER: Of course. When you run into economic problems, no business is immune from the adverse effect of these circumstances and conditions. The only reason that I can attribute to the success of the firm with which I was associated and the vanishing of other competitive concerns is that decisions were made at the proper time: what to do and how to perform. Timing is very essential in all businesses conduct. It isn’t a question of coming to the right decision, but coming to the right decision at the right time. 

Tanzer: I am interested in the Miller and Son, you talk about it being a family line. 
DURKHEIMER: Yes. The original founder was, according to my recollection, the father of Alex Miller, who was a very – I am speaking of Alex Miller now – a very active and prominent Jew in his day. And then he had a son by the name of Harold Miller who was his successor and today Harold Miller’s son is the proprietor of [the] Miller’s For Men store. So there you have an outstanding example of succession, of I believe, four generations carrying on the same enterprise. 

Tanzer: It is interesting that so many of these merchants accepted the political and social responsibilities of the community, of both the Jewish and the non-Jewish community. 
DURKHEIMER: Well, I don’t remember whether I referred to this in a previous interview or not, but that was true also in the smaller communities during the early pioneering days here in Oregon, where Jewish merchants were successful in their specific commercial enterprise and they were recognized for their ability, their initiative, their forthrightness, their courage. In many instances they were elected to be mayors of their community, or aldermen, or assume the responsibility of leadership in some local affair. These were all recognitions of merit. 

Tanzer: Did you hear about, or did you know about Joseph Simon, the early mayor? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes. Joseph Simon was a bachelor uncle of a boyhood friend of mine and lived in the family home, as it was the custom in those days for bachelor brothers to live with their married sisters. That was an experience that my parents had. It is an experience that Mrs. Oberdorfer had when Joe Simon was a resident in her home as long as I can remember, perhaps his entire life. Joe Simon was at one time elected to be a U. S. Senator, representing Oregon in Washington, D.C. In those days, the election was carried on by a different political structure than exists today. He was a Republican by party, [and] the Republican caucus elected him to be the U.S. Senator from the State of Oregon. He was a brilliant man. He was an attorney by profession and all of his business associates held public offices at one time or another, although they were not Jewish gentlemen. After the termination of Joe Simon’s period of duty as U. S. Senator, he returned to Portland and resumed his professional career and he was associated with other attorneys, all of whom at some time or another were prominent in the political or public world. As I recall, the name of the firm was Dolph, Gearin Simon and a fourth partner, or associate, whose name I fail to recall at the moment. But after Joe Simon’s return to Portland, he did also serve a period of time as mayor. 

Tanzer: What kind of a mayor was he? 
DURKHEIMER: A short mayor. He was small of stature, but with his capability you can be sure he was an excellent mayor. 

Tanzer: Mr. Durkheimer, do you have some additional recollections of the business community? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, but I’m going to spread out a bit from Portland and take in a little more area or territory. 

Tanzer: Fine. 
DURKHEIMER: All right. Then there are other reminiscences in my bag of memory that may be of some interest too. They were not necessarily all possessed [of] the deep Jewish coloration woven into the mesh of which I have just reviewed, though where applicable and where recallable I’ll include that element of information. I must candidly admit that some of what I possess and which I shall now report I learned from the lips of my parents. The incident of my having been president or becoming president of Congregation Beth Israel, I likened somewhat to the circumstances surrounding and precipitating the elevation of vice-president Harry Truman to the position of president of the United States upon the death of Franklin Roosevelt. 

Mr. Milton Markewitz, who was a very fine gentleman some 20 or 25 years senior to my then age, was serving his term in the office of president of the Congregation when suddenly his life span was terminated. It so happened that I was the VP at that time, and accordingly I succeeded to the presidency to complete the unexpired term of Mr. Markewitz. 

I also want to state that both of my ancestral families arrived in Portland during 1865, so what they experienced was pre- the turn-of-the-century by some 35 years. With the post-Civil War years unfolding, arrivals of more and more new settlers coming to the Oregon country, increased the population markedly and this activity spelled out a more scattered, thinly spread series of farms and ranches, giving rise to the necessity to found many new distantly established trading centers. The discoveries of gold lying in open creek beds further stimulated [the] white man’s activities to invade more distant areas still dominated and unconquered from [the] red man’s occupancy. No place in the primitive territory was too distant or too disadvantageous to invite new settlement. Miners, farmers, ranchers, they all required some convenient or semi-convenient source of supply to obtain their living requirements, even though the distances may have described a radius of 40 or 50 miles. As these new trading centers [were] founded, they generated a crying need for a mercantile establishment to move in; thus, the door was widely open to encourage and welcome new operations. True, every attempted new venture did not pan out with the reward of success. A few failures with bashed dreams were recorded, but by and large, the number of successful merchants generated was actually fantastic. This urgent call was responded to in part by many ambitious men of the Jewish faith, setting in motion a notable exodus from the larger, older communities to the newly formed smaller settlements. 

Tanzer: Are you talking about Portland or moving out of Portland? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, moving out of Portland. That’s just what I’m focusing on now. Some weighty and unanticipated problems did arise, demanding skillful and required considerations with approval action to follow. Particularly east of the Cascades in what is now the states of Oregon, Washington and Idaho, where farm and ranch products, such [as] wheat, oats, barley, cattle, sleep and wool became the major products produced. Note that these are all items of annual production and harvest. Necessarily, retailers were constrained to sort of grub stake their neighboring customers from one harvest season to the next following, and few, if any of these merchants had the capital resources to extend such long deferred payment accommodation [but] to deny acceptance would have produced no customers and no sales. What a gigantic chasm in commercialism this was to span. There was only one media to successfully cope with and meet this perplexing challenge. The retailer had to, because he was forced to, to negotiate an annual settlement agreement with all of his wholesale suppliers. It so happened, as I previously mentioned, that many wholesale suppliers were [of] Jewish ownership and. They were operating in various lines of distribution. They had the receptive understanding, the courage and the willingness to cooperate and did accept the mandatory program for annual settlement; and thus a new trade custom was born. With this adoption, many, yes very many, participating Jewish merchants in interior locations made their victory stake because [of] it became prominent in their local civic activities, were very favorably recognized by their fellow citizens, and were elected by popular vote to serve as mayor or aldermen or on a school boards or selected to be [or] assumed leadership in various community enterprises. 

Tanzer: Aside from your own family, Mr. Durkheimer, who did assume these positions? Do you know of others in towns that followed the same pattern? 
DURKHEIMER: I remember a man by the name of Freidenrich, who went to Grangeville, Idaho; the Goodman Bros. who I referred to as merchants here, they came from Woodburn, Oregon. My grandparent, Moses Freid came from Hubbard; the Senders family came from Harrisburg; there was a family in Corvallis that was very prominent, Cline was his name. There was a merchant in Astoria, a man by the name of Silverman in Skamawkawa; a man by the name of Wise in Ilwaco; Baruch in Pendleton; Alexander in Pendleton. I could keep on reciting name after name after name of young Jewish men who went into these various communities. Of course, the area west of the Cascades was really more inviting than going east of the Cascades, because the population was greater, the climate was less severe and the resources were more diversified. 

Tanzer: Did you know the Heppner family? 
DURKHEIMER: I am reading a book right now referring to that particular area, written by an ex-resident of the community of Lexington, which is located about four miles north of Heppner. It reviews Mr. Heppner’s life in that community. He came there as an immigrant. I think he was a Polish Jew. And he rose to the mayoralty of his community. He was well recognized. He was prosperous and a very respected citizen. In those days there was keen commercial rivalry between the merchants of Lexington and the merchants of Heppner, but the merchants of Heppner were the more aggressive and evidently the more progressive because when the county was formed, Heppner obtained the distinction of being the capital of the community and its rival regretted not being selected. 

Tanzer: Mr. Durkheimer, do you recall any Jewish farmers or sheep raisers in Central Oregon area? 
DURKHEIMER: Unquestionably there may have been some, but if there were, they would have been a rarity and I would say almost a curiosity. Strangely, by my analysis and observation, Jews are not prone to want to do physical work. They are masters at doing mental gymnastics, but they follow professions or trades. They are not, by natural instinct, farmers. A farmer or a cattle raiser leads a hard life and Jews are prone to want to follow less physical exertion. Now that’s my opinion. I could be wrong. I’m frequently wrong. 

Tanzer: This may be tradition emanating from centuries of inability to own land. 
DURKHEIMER: I think so and denied the privilege of following what their choice might be, where they were restricted in Europe, restricted by their area of living in the ghetto, restricted by their limitations of what they could do to earn a livelihood. Naturally over the centuries this would be an instilled natural instinct. 

Tanzer: I have a question about the merchants. Why do you suppose that when they moved from the areas outside the central ones that they converged on Portland rather than Oregon City or rather than Linton, which were supposed to have been the hubs of the State? 
DURKHEIMER: There was a Jewish organization in Oregon City by the name of Gilbert. The Gilbert Bros. founded the Oregon City Woolen Mills and for some reason or other, so the story is told and passed on to me, they didn’t like the name of Gilbert because it was too Jewish. So they changed their name to Jacobs and so the Jacobs, who were quite prominent in the Oregon City and Portland areas, were the owners of the Oregon City Woolen Mills. 

Tanzer: But it is interesting that Oregon City and Linton should have been chosen as the capital of Oregon, or were supposed to have been, and yet people moved into the Portland area. 
DURKHEIMER: Well, the reason that people moved into the Portland area was two-fold. In the first place, nature had built the Willamette River and the Columbia River deep enough to accommodate the then existing ocean borne traffic. And above Portland, there were shoals in the Willamette River and these gravel beds impeded the progress of ocean traffic beyond the Portland area. That’s the reason why the west side of Portland was founded first and not the east side, because the natural channel of the Willamette River was at its west bank. 

Tanzer: I understand that there was a good deal of traffic [by] the merchants along the river, in terms of getting merchandise from point to point, and many of the merchants settled in the areas where the ships reached. Do you have any knowledge of this? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, it was a natural thing. Roads were not built when the pioneers first came here. Water was the means for transportation. That was the accessible means and, therefore, there was settlement after settlement on the shores or banks of the Willamette River and other tributary streams where smaller craft could navigate. In those days, [but] that no longer exists. 

Tanzer: Do you know of any Jewish merchants who established themselves along these river points? 
DURKHEIMER: Well, I just mentioned a short while ago, Corvallis was on the river. Woodburn was on the river. Hubbard was on the river. Harrisburg was on the river. I mentioned those communities and identified the merchants that were there. That was the avenue for transportation in those days, the water. 

Tanzer: I understand that The Dalles and Hood River also had a good number of Jewish merchants. 
DURKHEIMER: I question whether they had a good number because neither of the communities grew big enough. It was true that in some of the larger trading centers there would be two or three competitive Jewish firms located in that particular district, but there were so many trading centers that opened up, there were not enough Jews in all of Oregon, if the men, women and children went to all of these trading centers, to plant one in each one, so there was a very active gentile representation or non-Jewish representation too. 

Tanzer: In terms of merchants? 
DURKHEIMER: In terms of merchants. Yes. 

Tanzer: What do you think, or how do you think, Mr. Durkheimer, these Jewish people managed to maintain a Jewish communal sense living in these remote areas? 
DURKHEIMER: It was inborn. It was their youthful training. It was their knowledge of Judaism, their love for it, their loyalty to it that brought them together. Whenever a Jewish group had size enough to form a Minyan, they would have some kind of Jewish philanthropic organization with a weak treasury to aid and assist some less fortunate Jewish peddler that might come to the community. This type of an incident would repeat again and again. There were Jewish peddlers that came to the community with packs on their backs to sell their wares. How they would get from community to community, that I don’t know. There may have been stages running; they may have hoofed it themselves. That I can’t tell because I am not conversant with that particular element. 

Tanzer: I also wonder about the assimilative process in these remote communities, whether there was a great deal of inter-marriage, and thereby losing or the loss of Jewish identity. 
DURKHEIMER: There was some inter-marriage. There were a few isolated cases where Jewish men married squaws, but the vast predominance of marriages was where the Jewish man came to the more metropolitan center, like Portland, where the field was more populace and therefore more selective and would chose his bride from that source. But you must remember that even the young brides had weighty problems for them to consider, because they had to go into the interior where they were perhaps located miles off of a railroad, where the roads were poor, where during the winter months they were impassable. There was no such thing as electricity. There was no telegraph or telephone in many locations. They were isolated from civilization. No running water. There was a well maybe on the premises, but in the winter time they would have to go out and bring water into the house so that they would have water to wash with and to cook with the following morning, so it wouldn’t be frozen. 

Tanzer: I see by some of the earlier newspapers that a number of the Oregon men brought their brides from San Francisco. 
DURKHEIMER: You say a number. There were some that did come from San Francisco, but you must also remember that prior to the development of Oregon, California had gone through its initiation for development into the hinterland and as a rule these young men that went into the hinterland to establish their career were unmarried and then when it came time for marriage, then they gravitated to San Francisco and married the daughters of Jewish merchants in San Francisco or Jewish wholesale merchants in San Francisco. But the preference of Oregonians marrying Californians was not intensified at that time because the means for travel were not great. The only way they could get there was by water. Not the only way, no, because cattle were driven overland before the railroads were constructed. But for passenger traffic, there were stage lines running too, there is an example of it right there [pointing to a poster]. However, the preferred route was really by water. 

Tanzer: That says, “Overland Mail Route to California?”
DURKHEIMER: Yes. 

Tanzer: Through in six days to Sacramento. 
DURKHEIMER: That’s right. That’s from Portland. 

Tanzer: I see it would be difficult to establish romance. 
DURKHEIMER: And it also states at that time that the fare was $50 and $50 was a lot of money in those days. 

Tanzer: I should say so. 
DURKHEIMER: No, I prize that very highly [the poster]. That is something that I acquired quite a few years ago. 

Tanzer: That’s a very interesting poster. Mr. Durkheimer, do you have any knowledge of the Robison Department Store, whose heirs established the Robison Home here? 
DURKHEIMER: I am not trying to correct you, but the name is Robinson. My knowledge of that is very thin and shallow. No, I can’t help you out on it, but it’s called the Robinson Home, according to my understanding. 

Tanzer: Well, that’s interesting, because the home is referred to as Robison. 
DURKHEIMER: It is? 

Tanzer: Yes. Robison, but I know that the store had been Robinson and somewhere in between the store and the heirs, the name has been changed.
DURKHEIMER: Well, I was not familiar with that. Now, you are a much better student of early Oregon history than I am, because you have done some exploring that I haven’t done. 

Tanzer: I think that store was particularly located in the South Portland area. 
DURKHEIMER: I’m not conversant with it. This may be of interest for your cause and purpose, and if it is, then I am glad to supply it, and if it isn’t, all you have to do is forget it. So, so let’s now concentrate a bit on Portland and some of the changes that have happened in this city. 

Another facet of my recollection recalls certain geological, and ecological changes, whereas this will have no particular direct emphasis, featuring Jewish participation, it was of importance changing [the] surface structure as originally established by nature and ultimately proved to be beneficial to the physical development in our city. Where the athletic stadium now stands, just north of the present Multnomah Club, was by the architecture of nature designed to be, and it was, a huge gulch. Eventually, by the hand of man, this unsightly gulch was transformed into a highly-cultivated truck garden producing area. The human skill and labor accomplishing this transformation was supplied by the sweat and toil of Chinese labor for the benefit and betterment of a segment of Portland’s Chinese inhabitants. Directly abutting the fashionable Nob Hill residential area, located on Kings Heights as it was then known, and climbing a section of the hills’ eastern slope, was constructed many clustered shacks created from scrap wood and tin roofs, all material having been collected from waste and rubbish piles and upon completion occupied as living quarters by the Chinese vegetable gardeners. This original big depression, geological not economic depression, was very much more extensive than the present limitations at Morrison Street may suggest. It extended as far north as present Burnside, then called Washington Street, and swinging east between the present Burnside end of Morrison Street, as far down as 16th. With this depression you can correctly deduct that there was no Morrison Street continuation as now exists from 19th to 20th; neither was there an Alder Street, from both west to 10th Street. Nineteenth19th Street, however, did have connections running north and south from Morrison to then Washington Street, via a wood constructed sort of bridge laid with tracks to accommodate electric powered street cars, plus pedestrian and horse drawn traffic. Constructed over another part of this depression, again I apply the word depression as geological and not financial, just north of the stadium and facing on Washington Street, now Burnside, was a huge wooden, two or three story high structure. My memory is that it had a minimum dimension of at least 550-foot frontage on the street side and ran 100 feet in depth. This was then known as the Exposition Building. It was constructed by its promoters for rental occupancy to house food fairs, Chautauqua gatherings and other assemblies requiring extended space for display and large gatherings. Eventually the demand waned for this type of space as originally planned and the building was converted into two livery stables, the occupancy being the Fashion Stable and the Central Stable, which accommodated horses, vehicles and the equipment owned by many neighboring residences. One night a devastating fire consumed this structure and there was a massive loss of horses and equipment. 

Tanzer: What year was that? 
DURKHEIMER: That must have been approximately the year 1906 or ’07, or 1908. I am sure that the Oregonian files will disclose a more extensive description of that event and itemized statistics listing the numbers of horses and values lost. The fire itself was very spectacular because the flames shot high in the sky. 

Tanzer: There were a great many fires at that time. 
DURKHEIMER: Oh, yes. Fire was the enemy of progress everywhere. Not that I want to harp on it, but if you go back to a lot of these outlying communities where the stores were nestled shoulder to shoulder, and a fire would come along, and the fire protection was poor, the whole community, business community, would be wiped out, the inventory lost. The insurance carried then was very expensive and naturally very inadequate. There were many instances of failures, only because of accidental fire. 

Tanzer: I have seen many references to this. 
DURKHEIMER: Across the street from this Exposition Building located on the northwest corner of 19th and Washington Street, stood another large wooden constructed building known as Persons Rail. Basically, the magnetic drawing card for rental usage of this development was its large and attractively decorated ballroom, which also provided a stage for other entertainment performances. This recollection of the stage brings to my mind, though I fail to recall the exact organization sponsoring the event, when I performed, participating as one of the black-faced comedians in a minstrel show.
Now, let’s get back to the nearby gulch area again, specifically that portion east of 19th Street. In time this gaping hole was filled in and Alder Street became an accomplished realization for development from 16th west to 19th. This extension of street construction invited the rise of bordering buildings. Some of that first crop of structures that were erected on Alder Street are still in evidence today. So much for the west side gulch.

Portland was also aggressively growing residentially on the east side of the river and they did develop a few minor commercial areas. Early ferry river crossings were in time replaced by bridges. The construction of the original Morrison Street Bridge replaced the pre-established Stark Street Ferry service. Crossing on this bridge from west to east, then beginning at east bank river line and continuing traffic carrier was a plank trestle all the way to Union Avenue, which had been constructed over a low-lying land running several hundred feet in width in both directions, north and south of this wooden trestle. During lower water stages of the river, this land level was dry, but annually during each June, when the higher river water level was registered, then much of the dry land disappeared to be covered over with water. As of today, this area has been completely filled in, streets established, city blocks laid out, and has been developed into a desirable warehouse district. Thus was terminated the continuation of a large, unsightly, non-productive east side gulch. Conversely, [considering] the process of gulch fill-ins, I recall a west side hydraulic wash having another physical transformation of nature. Beginning at the head of Lovejoy Street where the Cornell Road then began, the abutting native hills were still densely forested, populated by huge fir trees. I refer to the years 1900-1901 and 1902. The reason I can so positively earmark the time and prevailing physical conditions is because my family then lived at 24th and Lovejoy, then one of the city’s outer perimeters for the extremity of residential homes. As a young lad I trapped chipmunks in this nearby forest wilderness. No longer can this boy’s accomplishment be repeated at or near this location. It was either during 1902 or 1903 that land developers moved in, stole the hillsides of their natural beauty, set up a series of sloping ramps, washed down the protruding elevations, filled in the gullies, then established streets and building lots. This transformed area acquired the identity of Westover Terrace. Homes were constructed and you know what a developed residential area Westover is today. Now, I think I’ve told you all of my geological recollections. Would you like to hear about an early Rose Festival parade? 

Tanzer: Yes. 
DURKHEIMER: All right. Then I’ll tell you about an early Rose Festival parade and of my participation in it. I think this was an event, approximately in 1903, [that] compared with the expensive motorized trucks and professionally applied floral decorations featured in the entries today, the early demonstrations were quite crude, though remarkably impressive. Gas buggies were unknown. Horseflesh applied all motive power. Participants marched in their club formations or fraternal groups. Privately owned vehicles, riding organizations, commercial delivery wagons, city owned units such as the fire department, all these with some manner of rose decoration of course constituted the major entrance in the parade of the big day. Spotted in this procession were numerous professional or military marching bands. I had seen bicycle riding entrants in the first of such big parades the previous year, So for the second parade, I was determined to become a participant. I decorated my bicycle frame, handle bars, wheel spokes, etc. with pink and green flowing ribbons. For myself I fashioned a sleeveless coat out of a loose woven, porous potato sack, weaving into an open mesh an outer veneer covering consisting of large pink roses. 

Tanzer: What year was this? 
DURKHEIMER: 1902 or 1903. It was the second Rose Festival parade. 

Tanzer: And how old were you at that time?
DURKHEIMER: Well, if it was in 1903, I was 10 years old. I had to do a little gymnastics to figure that one out. Completed it was a heavy weight, but the strong back of youth could comfortably carry the tonnage of those rose decorations on my back. The complete route of the parade, I do not recall, but I do remember riding in the procession down 3rd Street from Salmon to Oak and up 5th Street back to about Taylor, before returning to the Park Blocks for disbanding. Can you imagine my satisfaction and pride when I became informed that the parade judges had awarded me a prize, confirming their approval of my entry in the bicycle division? As I reflect, I am sure that the originality of the rose bedecked jacket and my youth was what won their approval. And what was the award? It was a fairly large and handsome brass jardinière, really designed to retain tobacco for a pipe smoker. The donor of this award was Mr. BB Rich, who was the proprietor of a periodical and smoker’s supply store located on the corner of 6th and Washington. Evidently, it was then the mode for local merchants to be solicited, collecting awards trophies from them. Anyway, a few days following receipt of my prize possession, I rode my bike downtown, expressly to inform Mr. Rich that I had been awarded his donation to the festival cause and to extend my thanks. Then observing my youth and perhaps realizing I was too young to have use for a tobacco container, to my surprise I was handed a supplemental sweetener, more appropriate for my age. So I returned home on my bicycle the proud possessor of a full, unopened box containing 20 packages of chewing gum. 

Tanzer: Is this Mr. BB Rich any relation to the present tobacconist, Jesse Rich? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes. BB Rich had a brother who was associated with him by the name of Si Rich and Si Rich was Jesse Rich’s father.

Tanzer: Mr. Durkheimer, as you reached maturity, I presume you assumed some roles of social responsibility in your own community. Can you outline this for me? 
DURKHEIMER: Well, I have never been what you would call a very active individual in organizational work because it is my nature that I prefer to operate as an individual rather than as a member of a committee. Committee work is always slow as far as I am concerned and accomplishment is very tardy as a rule. Consequently, my love or enthusiasm for doing organizational work has put unquestionably a restriction or limitation on my participation. However, I did have a few brushes with it. The incident of my having become president of Congregation Beth Israel I can liken to the circumstances surrounding the precipitating the elevation of Vice-President Harry Truman to the position of President of the United States, upon the death of Franklin D. Roosevelt. Mr. Milton Markewitz, a gentleman some 20 or 25 years senior to my then age, was serving his term in office as president of the congregation when suddenly his life span was terminated. It so happened that I was the VP during that period and, accordingly, I succeeded to the presidency to Mr. Markewitz. At the next meeting they selected me to succeed myself for an additional term of office. This was during the years Rabbi Henry Berkowitz was our spiritual leader. My association and relationship with Rabbi Berkowitz were inspirational, harmonious and gainful. As I became more conversant with congregational affairs, naturally I acquired a better understanding. Then, as always, some rather long, continuing, unresolved situations needed finalization, as well as some earlier established precedent were subject to refinement and modernization. At least this was my opinion then prevailing. 

Tanzer: Can you tell me about any of these situations? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, I can. One example was reviewing the past history of the congregation. Some officers succeeded themselves for countless periods of years. This in my opinion was unhealthy. Change is very frequently desirable. Continuity in office, if it is carried to extreme, limits the admission of new blood and that is not to be desired. The congregation also had another experience where one man had been elected to be a president of the organization and his administration became noteworthy by the number of absences of the president at the regular monthly trustee meetings. The vice-president, while the vice-president served more times in the chair than the president himself. Well, such circumstances as this should not be repeated. At least that was my thought then. So I endeavored to establish a precedent, which has since been followed, that [after] two terms in office, a president’s presidency should terminate.  Furthermore, the same thing should apply for the trustees. Trustees [were] elected, as I recall for two years of service. Then if you believe he was a good trustee, you want to bring him back on the board again because he has delivered. Then one year off the board and he’s back again for another four years of service. It is a tactful way to discontinue the service of a non-productive trustee without offering an affront or insult. 

Tanzer: Was this then implemented into constitutional revision? 
DURKHEIMER: No, it is more or less an unwritten law that has been respected. It is not a part, as I recall, of our by-laws, but it has been followed ever since. I think that this should just about conclude my remarks about the temple and its affairs. 

Tanzer: Did you serve with Rabbi Berkowitz as the rabbi while he was there? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes. He was the spiritual leader while I was on the board and during my period of presidency.

Tanzer: And then he was followed by Rabbi Nodel? 
DURKHEIMER: No, not directly. We had a series of several rabbis, temporarily, before Rabbi Nodel came here. 

Tanzer: Did you continue with involvement with Temple Beth Israel through the years? 
DURKHEIMER: Have I? 

Tanzer: Yes. 
DURKHEIMER: Yes. I received certain assignments, which I have delivered from time to time. I happen to have headed the new rabbi selection at the time that Rabbi Rose was selected and there have been a few other instances where I have continued my activity. I think my greatest activity of continuation was by proxy when my son Stuart was president of the congregation and, strangely, it established a precedent that hasn’t occurred prior nor since where a father preceded a son as president of the congregation. 

Tanzer: Have all your children remained active in the temple? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, one of my daughters has been a Sunday school teacher. So there has been activity there. 

Tanzer: And a continuity. 
DURKHEIMER: Now, would you like to hear a brief paragraph, maybe two (I guarantee it won’t be three) about the Old People’s Home? 

Tanzer: Yes. I would like very much to hear it. 
DURKHEIMER: There was a time when a gentleman by the name of Mr. Milton Kahn served as president and guiding head of the Jewish Old People’s Home, now called Robinson [Robison]. It was during his uninterrupted series of annual successive re-elections to succeed himself in office that the present home site was acquired and the new structure built thereon. 

Tanzer: Where was the old structure? 
DURKHEIMER: I believe it was on 2nd and Wood Street. It was during one of his administrative years when he decided to take a temporary leave of absence for quite some duration while he was to be out of the city because of an extended European-African pleasure trip. During the period of his absence, I functioned in his stead and was released from this responsibility when he returned and resumed continuance of his leadership. 

Tanzer: How extensive was the Old People’s Home? How many residents? 
DURKHEIMER: It was an old residence that may have had six, maybe seven bedrooms. They accommodated both sexes. It was quite crude. It needed replacement and refinement and the construction of the new home was really a necessity. 

Tanzer: Was there much need for a home for the indigent, Jewish elderly? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, there always is for elderly people. Strangely, again I am only drawing on my personal observation and expressing my personal views, [but] the general public, people in general were sympathetic and most aggressively, worked with and for an unfortunate child, even to adopt them into the family. But they won’t do that for elderly people. They don’t necessarily shun them, but they don’t work with the same zeal and cooperation to aid and assist the elderly. Having grown old myself, I know some of the registrations of old age and there are certain limitations of what a person can do and what they cannot do. Now, I am not a victim of loneliness. Far from it, but I think that’s one of the greatest burdens old age has to contend with. For people who are elderly, to be able to associate with people of their vintage is a great advantage. Also, some of the elderly people require supervision of a staff and a home like Robinson Home can supply this needed aid and assistance. That’s why I think an Old People’s Home is even more essential, more desired, more to be desired than a baby home for parentless babies. 

Tanzer: You mentioned earlier in the tapes that it was traditional for families living inter-generationally where grandparents and unmarried brothers and sisters perhaps lived with the family. 
DURKHEIMER: And the married daughter lived to run the household. 

Tanzer: This is why I wondered if there was that great a need within the Jewish community for a home at that time? 
DURKHEIMER: Well, every elderly person doesn’t have a surviving family. It may have been a woman who lived a maiden life; it maybe a man who led a bachelor’s life; or it could have been a mother and a father whose family had moved away from their community or some family friction had created a breech between child and parent. There are a lot of circumstances that could arise. At least there were always some elderly Jewish people who inhabited the Home. 

Tanzer: Do you remember that in the course of your supervision at the Home how many residents there were? 
DURKHEIMER: My recollection of that is a bit hazy. The records of the Home would disclose that, but I do recall this, just to add a certain personal element. Before I ever became active as a trustee in the Home, at the time of my parents demise, I presented the Old Home in South Portland, on 2nd and Woods or Corbett, wherever it was located, with a new electric stove and a new electric refrigerator, because these were two very needed pieces of equipment that the Home was not able to procure otherwise. 

Tanzer: What were the years of your supervision of the Home? 
DURKHEIMER: I can’t recall that with exactness. I am sorry, I am not able to pinpoint that year. 

Tanzer: Mr. Durkheimer, I would like to ask yon how you feel today as a Jew living in Oregon. You have spent most of your life here and you told me before, you started out by saying that you are now a retiree, but you have spent most of your life in Oregon. 
DURKHEIMER: Well, as I reflect on that particular question, I can say with reasonable confidence that I have experienced some rebuffs and disappointments in my life because of the fact that I am a Jew, But I think the circumstances are such today that the outward evidence of prejudice is much less than it was in years past. For example, I do know that because of my Jewishness, there were certain social and fraternal denials which I was caused to suffer. For example, when I was an attendant as a student at the Oregon State University, then called Oregon Agricultural College, I was enrolled in the School of Commerce and during my senior year the local chapter of an honor fraternity asked me to join their membership, and this being a coveted honor, I naturally gave them an affirmative answer. So the wheels were set in motion for my affiliation and my application was filled out and sent to St. Louis where the Alpha chapter was then operating at a university and my amazement I was later informed that my membership in this fraternity had to be declined because of fact that I was a Jew, in spite of the fact that, in World War II, I was the second in the class graded by the record of the college. 

I know when I was a young lad, maybe 8 years of age, I wanted to go to the Multnomah Athletic Club, which was then located at the head of Morrison Street, at the junction of 19th and there was a restrictive custom that Jewish youths were not as welcome as other youths would be. At that time our next door neighbor on 24th  Street was a prominent attorney in Portland by the name of Joseph M. Teal, and my father spoke to Joe Teal and through Joe Teal’s influence my membership was accepted. So I joined the Multnomah Athletic Club as a day junior. As I grew up and older I was graduated into the night juniors, then later I became a full-fledged member.  As I approached manhood and after World War I, upon returning to Portland, I resigned my membership. because I was active in other affairs and would not have the time to devote to this particular organization. 

Tanzer: Were you aware that there were certain Jewish institutions that limited their memberships to other Jews? Did you know that? 
DURKHEIMER: I believe that you are right in making a statement like that, because there was an unjustified attitude on the part of the earlier Jewish settlement here. I am speaking of the individuals now. They having become Americanized and when newcomers were entering the arena, still carrying on with their Jewish European customs and the inability to express themselves equally as well, there was a feeling of superiority on the part of the older settlers looking down upon the newcomers. This unquestionably was registered from time to time. There was not much interaction between these groups. The newcomers were more or less unto themselves. The old timers were more or less unto themselves. [but] even among the old timers there were stratus, invisible stratus, those who were more fortunate to accumulate greater wealth considered themselves more as cream than the milk below the level of the cream who were the Tom, Dick and Harry of Jewish faith of the remainder. 

Tanzer: Do you think that this has changed today in Oregon? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, it has changed for two reasons. In the first place, the recent migration has been practically nil. Consequently there have been few newcomers to the area. Secondly, the second generation of the latter flow of immigrants has matured into manhood and their capabilities have been such that they have made real economic progress for themselves.  With this economic progress they have acquired social skills and dominance in either the professional life or a commercial life. Today, this second generation of that later flood of humanity are dominant in our local area both numerically and, it must be admitted, politically and socially. The strange situation has developed, and I hate to admit it, but it’s a fact and therefore it doesn’t have to be denied, that the later generation of the German Jews have gone to seed in part. They are not aggressive and progressive of the same standard as the later generation. The second generation, that I have previously referred to, and for some reason that I do not countenance and cannot understand, there is a growing practice of desertion from the Jewish faith, either by denial or by intermarriage. Now, I don’t try to do anything, about this. I can’t. I am at that age, I can’t do anything, but I can observe, and now I’m commenting on it since you have asked the question.

Tanzer: To what do you attribute this assimilative quality? Is there some particular thing that you can pin it down to? 
DURKHEIMER: No, there is nothing that I can finger point. The rising generation has a lot of value and virtue to it, but they also countenance and accept certain standards of living that are not acceptable to me to adopt or ratify and therefore there is a difference in the philosophy of these two generations.  

Tanzer: Mr. Durkheimer, I would like to know about Amy Goldsmith. 
DURKHEIMER: Goldsmith was her married name. Her pre-married name was Amy Rothschild, and I knew her as Amy Rothschild Goldsmith. My memory of Amy cannot be reported and should not be accepted as a complete review of her unquestionably outstanding career. She having recorded so many notable and desirable accomplishments, reporting by others will necessarily have to supplement. We were not related, not even remotely. Our acquaintanceship and friendship had its early beginning during childhood years, continuing uninterrupted until the time of her untimely death. We both attended the old Couch Grammar School, then located at the northwest corner of 17th and Lovejoy Streets, and [we] also attended the old Beth Israel Sunday School, then conducted within the ground floor accommodations of that wood built synagogue at southwest 12th and Main Street, which was subsequently burned, the fire having been ignited by a fire bug. The Rothschild family was then established at the corner of NW 19th and Hoyt Street. Amy was the youngest child of Fred and Carrie Rothschild. She had an older brother, Joe, living today, and an older sister, Enid, who married Arnold Blitz, both of the latter two are now deceased. Brother Joe survives. Amy’s life span was suddenly cut short while she was in the prime of life. From memory I would say this happened during the early 1940s. Completing the Couch Grammar School, she then attended what was known as the Portland Academy located at southwest 13th and Montgomery Street, a privately sponsored educational institution recognized for its instructional excellence and careful selection of student acceptance.

Tanzer:          Who sponsored this? 
DURKHEIMER: The Episcopal Church. After graduation from the Portland Academy she enrolled as a student at Wellesley, being graduated there from with signal honors and distinction. Then returning to Portland in 1916, she decided that her formal educational accomplishments had not run a completed course, so she enrolled as a law student in what was then known as the Northwestern College of Law located in Portland. As I recall, at that time, this was the only established organization of its kind then operating in this State, and it was privately sponsored. The managing director was Judge CU Gantenbein and the faculty consisted of numerous other Portland-based judges and practicing attorneys, each of whom conducted class in some segment of the law. Northwestern College of Law could rightfully claim other distinctive characteristics quite in contrast and very uncommon with today’s curriculum at law colleges. I [also] might mention that it was quite customary in those days when young men aspiring to become lawyers would serve an apprenticeship of some years as a clerk in an established attorney’s office.

Tanzer:         Was it quite unusual for women to go to law school? 
DURKHEIMER: It was very rare. While going through this apprenticeship, one would absorb the legal practices, become familiar with the codes, court procedure, etc. and then when that individual could self-evaluate himself as competent to pass the State Bar examination, make application therefor. If successful, then he would be accepted as qualified to practice the profession. One’s study course at Gantenbein’s Northwestern College of Law required a three-year attendance for a completed matriculation. All class work was conducted on Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights in rooms within the Multnomah Courthouse building, with sessions beginning at 7:00 pm and disbanding between 10:30 and 11:00, dependent upon the duration of the assignment coverage. Upon completion and graduation, the appendage of the LLB degree to one’s name became a lawful addition, but that conveyed supplement plus the award of a diploma were then, as now, insufficient to hang out a shingle and begin to publicly practice the profession. The Oregon State bar exams were a required competency hurdle to successfully jump over before actual practicing of the law could be undertaken. The State Bar examination served as a sufficiently influential deterrent to disastrously cause some disqualified aspiring attorneys to select another media for their future life career. Reasons in my opinion, warranting a rather elongated dissertation on the Northwestern College of Law were first, it historically reviewed an interesting facet of an early Portland institution now extinct, and secondly, of greater importance, it served as a commanding formative factor in a part of Amy’s career. 

It so happened in September of 1914 that I enrolled as a law student at Northwestern. It so happened that one year later in September, 1915, Amy Rothschild enrolled as a law student at Northwestern. It so happened at that time the Rothschild’s residence was then located on Westover Terrace, not too far distant from the Durkheimer family residence on 24th and Lovejoy Streets. It so happened that the Durkheimer family automobile, by mutually agreeable arrangement, supplied transportation service for both these law students from their respective homes to the Courthouse and return trip, three times a week. At this point it seems appropriate to include, it also happens, almost concurrent with the completion of my final year at Northwestern during early April of 1917. Uncle Sam became involved in a serious confrontation with Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany and before that month of April had ran its completed course, I become a payee on the Federal payroll, having donned a sailor’s uniform in Uncle Sam’s Navy. 

A rather personal event Amy and I experienced during one of those tri-weekly transportation episodes, inclusive of a facet of Amy’s charming personality, which I will now relate. It was during the late winter of 1916, a sudden frigid weather change between the hours of 7:00 and 10:00 pm brought on a freeze condition, transforming fallen rain into a real silver thaw. This was soon followed by a snow fall of perhaps a half-inch depth. The snow, itself, did not impede street traffic but the combination with light snow covering over the ice crusting made a difficult situation for safe automobile driving. When our classes were dismissed that evening, we had a real transportation challenge to negotiate the whole of our homeward course. With cautious driving we had no serious, adverse problem until arrival at 25th and Lovejoy, up to the beginning of Cornell Road. A fairly steep incline caused resistance to traction power and the rear car wheels spun merrily, without registering over the road progress. There we were stalled quite some distance from our planned destination of Amy’s house. What should we do? Necessity being the mother of invention, we jointly concluded a means to override and conquer this forced blockade. Amy took over the driving position, put the drive shaft into slow motion, low gear and the rear wheels began to turn. With supplemental man power inch by inch I pushed the car up the hill, slowly making progress until we gained about two thirds of the projected 460 feet of incline to get to the top. In spite of my normal strength and endurance, this physically strenuous application registered its limitation. Amy doubtlessly observed that I was pretty much pooped, whereupon she suggested and insisted we exchange positions to achieve the remaining one-third ascent. Her directive prevailed and so we did. Thus, Amy became a competent, willing and experienced car pusher. She was always resourceful, a good sport, optimistic, a beneficial cooperator. Thus again, in the incident I just reviewed, did she demonstrate as her code, where there is a will there is a way to surmount any obstacle. I don’t know if you want that in the historical report or not. 

Tanzer: That’s a very nice story. 
DURKHEIMER: National, international and even local and personal affairs all change tempo with unprecedented dispatch upon declaration of war with Germany. Influenced by then prevailing emergency situations, I made application for and was granted a special hearing for bar examination is Salem before representatives of the State Supreme Court, before I would be shipped out of the state. The petition was speedily granted and an appointment date that was made. I was verbally questioned and then presented with a series of printed legal questions and complex situations to evaluate, untangle and express my findings. Completing this hotbox ordeal in the late afternoon, I was informed I was then released and could return to Portland, not knowing if my ship of legal knowledge had crossed the turbulent bar successfully or floundered in the attempt. Several days later I received a piece of mail, identifiable as to its source, which took courage to open, knowing that it contained information disclosing whether I had weathered the breakers or was not eligible for the profession to practice law in Oregon. 

For the next 19 months I navigated out of State. How Amy was transported from her home to class and back again during this period of my absence, I know not, but I do know too, she did complete her three years of study and did pass her examination successfully. She then became associated with a prominent law firm in the city, the identifying name of which I do not, at this moment recall. The introduction of aircrafts in warfare during World War I was then a new development. Among the basic materials requirements were wood products made from Oregon and Washington-grown spruce trees. With the suddenly pressing war creating demand and no pre-built supply of inventory to draw upon the army took over the procurement responsibility in its entirety, establishing what became known as the Spruce Division of the Army, with headquarters being set up at the Old Barracks located in Vancouver, Washington. Personnel for this division was scattered out in the forest felling timber, transportation units were established to move logs to mills and with, the sawn lumber to be shipped by rail to factories for transformation into assembled flying machines. Headquarters for the Spruce Division, I repeat, was maintained in Vancouver, and a magnitude of this operation required an extensive office staff to properly direct and conduct its affairs. 

Included among the assemblage of office manpower was one Arthur Goldsmith, freshly imported from Los Angeles where forests and lumber is only a name and not an industry. Arthur’s prior knowledge and experience in the lumber market could be rated as very minimal, he having been an alumnus of Stanford University and a graduate of its school of law. But Arthur found position and occupation in the Spruce Division headquarters in Vancouver and there served the whole of his military hitch and there were times when Arthur was granted liberty, freedom of duty assignment with opportunity to leave Vancouver and come to Portland. Arthur’s mother was a girlhood friend of Minnie and Dorothy Herman when the three were all young residents of San Francisco. Subsequently, the two Herman sisters married the two Lowenson brothers of Portland, Max and George, and their homes were then transferred to the place of their respective husband’s occupations, Portland. Thus it developed when Arthur had liberty and came to Portland, the George Lowenson home was always open to him for overnight or weekend stays, his Portland Headquarters. In due course, Arthur became acquainted with the Portland crop of his contemporaries. War ended, Arthur’s military service terminated and he decided to practice his profession in Portland, finally establishing himself with another attorney named David Robinson. Later, the exact timing I do not recall, Arthur and Amy must have mutually decided a double identification rated more acceptably than two single as non-associated classifications, so by mutual assent they became known as Mr. and Mrs. Arthur and Amy Goldsmith. This union subsequently ushered in three sons, Gershon, an attorney in Portland, John, an MD in governmental health service and Arthur Junior, a professional librarian at some Eastern university. Right here it is appropriate to mention the colossal hearts, with double-A rating, when Amy and Arthur magnanimously and pointedly demonstrated their true souls, during the Hitler Holocaust, when the future lives of German youths were in extreme jeopardy, this double-A team, Amy and Arthur, welcomed and took into their homes, fed, housed, clothed and educated, two orphan lads of German birth, showering them with un-matched love and affection that they bestowed upon their own three boys. Unique, yes, but a masterpiece of human accomplishment of most high merit. 

In many other ways, during Amy’s abbreviated life span, her gainful accomplishments will out distance and outnumber many records chalked up by octogenarians. In the educational field, she was appreciably recognized as a splendid Sunday School teacher. She probably coached numerous students for specialized training, not for compensation, but as her contribution for the betterment of mankind. She was so super knowledgeable, with so many subjects that her guidance was sought and treasured, when not volunteered. To sum it up, in fewer words, the composite of her singular, individuality, capability and accomplishment formulated the living personification of one in a million. Brilliant, on top of everything, broad in her scope of activities and understanding, an exemplary mother dispensing devotion and love as a homemaker and wife and mother, true and loyal to her numerous friends, universally respected for her intelligence and intellect, what more could one add, exalting her versatile, admirable attributes. Amy’s marvelous career registered gainfully in so many ways, no single reporting can completely cover. Necessarily you will have to consult other informants too, to formulate a composite, more complete review, and then I project there will be omissions and not a complete assembly of material. She was indeed a rare beneficially active and superior specimen of humanity, sincerity and indisputably loved by everyone who knew her. Amy’s interrupted career left a saddened void of no mean dimension, extending far beyond the described bounds of her immediate family. 

Tanzer: How was the library [named] for her ?….
DURKHEIMER: When the Blumauer Memorial House was completed, her husband, Arthur, was then the president of that corporate body that had been organized for this specific purpose and he gave a sizeable sum to commemorate the name of his wife who he had previously lost. Thereby, the name of Amy R Goldsmith library was applied to that section of the structure. 

Tanzer: That seemed to be very appropriate for her. 
DURKHEIMER: It was. It was. 

Tanzer: Do you remember the names of the foster sons who she had? Are they still in this area?
DURKHEIMER: I don’t think so, but I know one of them legally changed his name to Goldsmith in appreciation of the kindness, love and the service that he had received in the hands of Amy and Arthur. 

Tanzer: Did Arthur Goldsmith remarry? 
DURKHEIMER: Yes, then he remarried. 

Tanzer: Have there been children from that second marriage? 
DURKHEIMER: No. He married a woman who was a widow, who had lost her husband during World War II. They then lived out in the Riverwood District. 

Tanzer: Is he alive? 
DURKHEIMER: She? 

Tanzer: No, is Arthur Goldsmith alive? 
DURKHEIMER: No, Arthur Goldsmith passed away, I would say five to seven years ago. But his widow is still alive.