Harry Arnsberg

Magid: Mr. Arnsberg, can you tell me how your parents got to Portland and why they chose to come here?
ARNSBERG: My parents came to Portland in a long, roundabout way. They were both born in Grodno gubernia, which is sometimes Poland and sometimes Russia. One was born in Stobierna and the other in the larger city of Bialystok. However, they did not know each other in the old country. My father was much older than my mother. They met in England and were married near the turn of the century, and after living in England for a while, my oldest sister Mildred was born in Newcastle on Tyne. I think my parents were married in Liverpool. From England they went to South Africa, to Cape Town where my sister Dorothy was born. And after living in Cape Town for a while, they moved on to Australian China, where they lived in Shanghai, then into Japan. And my father did not know that there was Canada on the East Coast until the Yokohama, and he finally came into Canada about 1904, and my oldest brother Max was born in Canada. Reading one of the Jewish newspapers — I forget whether it was the Tagleblad or The Forward — he saw an advertisement for settlers in Ferry County in the State of Washington, offering free homesteads if you would settle the land. This ad was put in by a man by the name of Greenberg who had a general store and who lived with his family and had several Jewish settlers there already. My father [inaudible] to the Republic, which was the county seat of Ferry County on Okanagan Valley, and there my brother Asa was born in 1908 and I was born in Republic in 1911. 

Even though we were in a remote area, my folks kept Kosher. When the two boys were born, we were taken to Spokane, which was 150 miles from Republic, for the bris and we lived in Republic from or until 1918 after World War I. Then my father went to Spokane, moved the family there, and took a job and stayed in Spokane until 1920, when he thought the opportunities would be better in Portland, a bigger Jewish community. So he went there alone on his own and he moved in with the Bercovitzes. I think you will remember Abe Bercovitz, the violinist for many years. They had a tailor shop on the corner of First and Arthur Street, which is now the Ross Island approach. My sister Mildred who, graduated Lewis & Clark High School in, Spokane came to visit my Father and took a job at Meier & Frank instead of going to Cheney Normal School where she was planning to be a school teacher. So while working at Meier & Frank, she became engaged to George Israel, and this necessitated my mother coming down to Portland to look over the prospective bridegroom. And being the youngest, she brought me with her, and I remember we stayed at Bercovitz’s house on First and Arthur Street for several weeks and I taught Abe Bercovitz how to ride a bicycle. That’s my early memories. 

Anyway, the next year the whole family moved to South Portland into a house; the address in those days was 707 South First Street, between Meade and Hooker, and that is how the Arnsberg family came to Portland, Oregon. Three sons and two daughters. The area that we lived in was kind of a melting pot. I think at Failing School where we went, there were children from sixty some different nationalities and my earliest recollections were that we attended a little synagogue on Front and Arthur which was called the Linath Hazedek, which was moved several times since after the building of the Ross Island bridge. And in tough times we attended the Kesser Israel, which was around the corner from us. The Meade Street synagogue as it was called. Most of the synagogues were called after the streets in which they were located, such as Kesser Israel was called First Street, Ahavai Sholom was called Park Street. I think the only one that was called by its actual name was Temple Beth Israel, and even the synagogue in Alberta was called the Alberta Street Shul, even though it was on Wygant. But that was the original location — Alberta. 

Some of my earliest recollections was my experiences selling newspapers at ten years of age. My first corner with my brother Asa was on Fourth and Morrison, the old Ben Selling corner. After that we moved up to Third and Madison, and then I sold papers at Third and Yamhill in the old Powers Furniture corner, and then on Fifth and Yamhill, and after that I had numerous paper routes. The Oregon Journal and The Oregonian. I remember I used to ride home on the two wheel horse-driven wagon that was used for circulating the old news and I would ride home on this two wheel cart and the horse knew where the stable was on Baker street and I would just go along to get the ride home. I remember when the library, the new one, was built on Second and Hooker Street and the old library was at brought next door to the Meade Street synagogue, where it is still a residence today after some 40 years. I went to the Neighborhood House as a young boy. I belonged to the clubs called the Midgets, the Intermediates, and graduated into a club called the Strollers when I was about 17 or 18 years of age, before going away to school. When I came back from school I got active in the AZA, which was at the B’nai B’rith Center, and that was kind of a move up to a better neighborhood. Later our family moved to 22 SW Third Avenue between Lincoln and College Streets near the Old People’s Home, which was on Third and College Street.

Magid: What were the shopping areas like? The stores, the banks? Did they have banks in that neighborhood?
ARNSBERG: No. In the old days there was Weinstein’s grocery store, which was next to us on First Avenue. On the corner of First and Meade was a grocery store that I think was run by the Cohens and then later sold to the Macoby family, and down below on First and Arthur was a butcher shop owned by Mr. Jacobsen. On the other corner on First and Arthur, across from the tailor shop, was Shanks Grocery Store where we used to buy a wine glass of seeds for a penny. There was the old bridge that crossed First Avenue over the gulch and there were several stores on that street. I remember when the gulch caved in, and there is always a story about Mr. Wolf, who had a barbershop and he had somebody in the chair when the bridge was collapsing and they ran out in time so as to not fall into the gulch. There was Leveton Drug Store on First and Caruthers Street. There was a pool hall across in Solomon Apartments, and the old Colistro & Halperin Store in the middle of the block, and the Halperin Dry Goods Store. This was the old shopping area of South Portland, except for the small area up at Gibbs Street which had a drug store and I think another grocery store. I forgot there was another grocery store on First and Arthur next door to the tailor shop, which was called Peisners Grocery Store.

Magid: Did Mosler’s Bakery come into South Portland?
ARNSBERG: Mosler’s Bakery came in many years later, after the Star Bakery. The Star Bakery was owned by Rosumny and Rosenberg. I think Mosler came from Seattle, bought this bakery out and maintained and maintained a reputation for his famous bagels for many years and the secret of which, I think, went with him. Are there any particular questions?

Magid: What about your friends that you made?
ARNSBERG: Oh, I went to Failing School, as I said before. I started Failing in 1921, in the third grade, and graduated in 1926, and some of the friends that I made in Failing School are still around today: Jack Rosenfeld, his wife Fannie, Goldie Jacobsen. There were some of the boys who I sold newspapers with the Allegretto boys, Arthur Dake, who was with the Bureau of Vehicles for many years. I was talking about my friends and the ones I went to school with and of course, that would include the involvement at the Neighborhood House, which we had our basketball teams, which in those days went by weight. And we had an 85 lb. team, which consisted of Joe Unkeles, Rosenberg, and Sam and Morris Rotenberg. My brother Asa and I played, and we would go to play at Sellwood Park, Peninsula Park, and they would come and play at the Neighborhood House. After we grew older we graduated to the 110 lb. team and then we played for our respective clubs — the Intermediates and the Strollers — and as always, we played around the different city parks with age groups comparable to ours. And from these basketball days I have friends who are still around, such as Lou Rosenberg and Sam Rosenberg, who is now in Seattle, Leonard Donin, Joe Unkeles, who is with the liquor commission today. And later on I moved up to the B’nai B’rith Building, which is now the Jewish Community Center, and I played basketball with the AZA and then I met fellows like Sylvan Campf, Sol and Frank Director, the late Irving Kramer, Irv Cooper.

Magid: Are these people all living in Portland now?
ARNSBERG: Well, some of them, yes. Again Sam Rotenberg and Morris Rotenberg, who played on the national AZA championship team. One year I wasn’t able to play basketball and so I went out for debating and our chapter went to Vancouver BC, where we were successful in basketball, debating. And we went to San Francisco, where we were again successful and in 1932 we went to the finals in St. Louis, Missouri and that was one of my most eventful trips as an AZA boy. And my partner in the debate was Norman Berenson. I remember we made this trip in an upper berth by train and we were very fortunate to make the finals. Although we had intended to be basketball players, we wound up as debaters and with the coaching of Rabbi Henry Berkowitz, who gave us a little technique, we, as I said, were able to finish in the finals.

Magid: Do you remember your subject matter you debated?
ARNSBERG: The subject matter was “resolved that parochial schools were not necessary for the preservation of Judaism in America.” We had to be able to debate either side of the subject on the flip of a coin, and as it happened we did debate both sides and on several occasions and we were still able to wind up in the finals and we lost to a couple of boys, college boys from, I think, the University of Wisconsin, who were very, very able. It was a good experience.

Magid: That’s very interesting. Do you remember the effects of the Depression on the South Portland Community or the Jewish community?
ARNSBERG: I remember that there were a lot of people out of work. Prices were reasonable. In comparison to today: milk was like ten cents a quart, sugar was three pounds for a quarter, bread was ten cents a loaf, meat was very reasonable. People were walking the streets looking for jobs, but the effects of the Depression didn’t seem to be as bad here as they were in the East. In the Depression I was about 20 years of age. I was working. I think my allowance at that time was about $l.00 a week, because we were trying to get into some type of business, and so we watched every penny, but somehow in spite of everything we managed and things took a turn for the better in 1935 and 1936 and by 1938 and 1939 we were out of the Depression.

Magid: Was that when you started your business?
ARNSBERG: Well, I was in another business — electronics. No, I didn’t go into electronics until 1952. I was in the amusement business before that.

Magid: How did you get involved with that? Was it difficult to start that type of business at that time?
ARNSBERG: No, I just answered an ad for amusement machines, just bought a few more, put them around. That was the start of it. In fact, I think it started about 1933. As I say, the Depression, in my mind, lasted two or three years at the most. Some people seem to think that it lasted into the late 30s, isn’t that right? Things took a real turn for the better as far as my brother and I were concerned.

Magid: How long did you stay in South Portland?
ARNSBERG: We stayed in South Portland until World War II. Of course, my sisters were married, my older brother was in the service, and then I went into the service in 1942 — in the fall of 1942. Actually, my mother… my father passed away in 1941 and my mother moved to Sixth, or Fifth, and Harrison Streets. So my mother had been in South Portland, I guess for most of her life. Except, of course, it all depends what you consider South Portland. I guess south of Harrison was real South Portland, although in the early days up around the Park blocks was considered a very good neighborhood. And South Portland was everything south of Grant Street. It all depends whether you went to Shattuck School or you went to Failing School. The ones who went to Failing School, I think, were considered the real South Portlanders.

Magid: Can you give me an impression on the religious aspects of the Jewish community, how the various organizations developed in the religious area?
ARNSBERG: Well, in South Portland, I think most of the affiliation was with the synagogue at that time, although there was a Worker’s Club at the Neighborhood House, which had been there for a number of years. I remember the Rose City Mutual Benefit Lodge, which was an organization comprised of early South Portlanders who had formed this organization so that they could, in time of need, help one another. They could borrow money and pay it back. I think there was a free loan society that the people belonged to, that they could also borrow money from. The Rose City Lodge was big enough to have their own cemetery, which is still perpetuated today. It adjoins the old Neveh Zedek synagogue out Canyon Way. And as far as clubs that I remember, there was affiliations with, I think, the Mizrahi for the Jewish ladies, and there was the [National] Council of Jewish Women, and the Hadassah, which I guess in those days was not as active as it is today. For the young people, as I mentioned, there were the clubs such as the Strollers, AZA, and there was the South Parkway Club, which I never was a member of. But there were fellows who had come to Portland earlier, newsboys in the early 1910s and thereabouts, and that was very active when we came to Portland. They had a very fine basketball team and later on their members got married and they started the South Parkway Sisterhood. And after I went up to the B’nai B’rith Center and later when I became 21, I joined the Ramblers Club, which had been in existence some ten years at that time and the Ramblers Club went on for many years. In fact, I think we celebrated a 50th anniversary and since then it has kind of disbanded. I also joined the B’nai B’rith Lodge when I was 21 and have been a continuous member for 42 years. The B’nai B’rith Lodge had a sisterhood, which was very active, and they met twice a month at the B’nai B’rith Building, which later became the Jewish Community Center, and it was very active. Of course, all these clubs went by the wayside more or less. Even though they are still perpetuated, they do not have the active meetings that they had in years gone by. Clubs were social gatherings and there were a lot of affairs. At the Neighborhood House, there were the South Parkway Dances and at the Center there were the Rambler Club had their annual New Year’s Party. The B’nai B’rith Lodge had a number of open meetings and these were places where people went for social outlets. Of course, in the old days visiting neighbors was very common thing. They still had the graciousness that they had in the old country and Friday night was always the gathering of the family. The Friday night meal was a big event each week and even though we didn’t have much money, I think we had something that we don’t have today, a closeness of family that our affluent society has taken away.

Magid: Those words have been said before. Can you describe South Portland after World War II? And during the war, the effects of the war that it had on the Community? 
ARNSBERG: Well, South Portland began to lose its significance as a melting pot around World War II, because immigration stopped and there weren’t the families coming in as there were prior to this time. And as the Jewish people of South Portland bettered themselves financially, they wanted better accommodations, better housing, and so they moved to the East Side and there was a big influx from South Portland to the Irvington District and to Rose City, which later on repeated itself and became the movement to the Southwest. In other words, it is like the old story that you moved from the farm to the city to get prosperous and then get a farm and go back in the country again. I think this was the transition that took place in South Portland and stores began to close down, and for a number of years it was the center for buying your kosher meat and your delicatessen and so forth. But even with the Urban Renewal, that has gone by the wayside also. I think moving the synagogue from First Street up to Park Street, and from Park Street to 25th, had a lot to do with the decentralization of the Jewish area — what was left of it — and the so-called shopping area has never been successfully relocated. Maybe one of the reasons is that there isn’t the need for it. And what we have is Kashrut conducted on a more-or-less volunteer basis and being supported by a few families for the benefit of those trying to keep some Jewish traditions.

Magid: Going back to the old days in South Portland and in the Jewish communities in general, can you relate any interesting stories about people? Any human-interest stories that you can remember?
ARNSBERG: Well, as a youngster, 12 years old, I remember that the red train used to come from Fourth and Stark Street and go through to Fourth … 

ARNSBERG: … [to] the medical school. And in winter it was pitch black and I would go and leave my papers on the second landing of the stairs, and went up the hill to the medical school. And then I would run as fast as I could because I was always afraid, as a youngster, of somebody grabbing me in the pitch black of the night, although it was only six o’clock in the morning. It was kind of an awesome time.

Magid: Was there much crime in those days? Did the people feel threatened at all in the community?
ARNSBERG: There was very little crime that I can remember in those days, except one scene at the old pool hall as a youngster, when there was a big fight and one of the fellows chased another fellow with a knife and it caused quite a furor for the time. But as a whole, most everybody was well behaved. We did have some characters that were well known in South Portland, some who were a little tougher than the others. Then we had our Jewish fellows who had a club at Lincoln High School and anybody who was not a Jewish boy, they would stand up to them. They were called the Hussers. We had our boys who would look out for themselves and look out for the ones who were not quite as big or capable of taking care of themselves. I remember one of the Jack Dempsey fights. Waiting for the newspapers in the basement and one of the boys was put at the back of the line for crowding, and he grabbed one of the heavy paperweights that kept newspapers down when they were on a corner, not being used or waiting to be sold, and he was going to go after the circulation manager and luckily several fellows grabbed a hold of him because he was ready to conk him over the head and this would have been the end of the circulation manager. But stories like this, I guess there are hundreds of them. I remember playing in the gulch and chasing and fighting one of my friends up a tree. I remember also that we had people, boys, who lit the fires on Saturday for the people who were real religious, commonly called a Shabbos Goy, and today there are two brothers who are called “sheigetz.” They still bear the name. One is ”big sheigetz and one is “little sheigetz,” and [if] seen downtown by somebody from South Portland, they are still affectionately addressed as “shouts,” just as a remembrance of those old days, 50 years ago in South Portland. I went to Hebrew School, the old Portland Hebrew School at the Neighborhood House. We had about five or six classrooms upstairs and the principal was Bert Trager, who later became a rabbi. One of the teachers was Mr. Yompolsky, who later became a dentist. Mr. Macoby, who taught me my Master. I was in Bar Mitzvah in [inaudible]. I was talking about the Portland Hebrew School, which led up to my Bar Mitzvah in 1924. My malamud was Mr. Macoby, who was a very learned teacher. And he was a little hesitant about the place where my Bar Mitzvah would take place, as it was an offshoot from the Shaarie Torah, the First Street synagogue. A group of mavericks, which included my father, had rebelled against Rabbi Fain, who was called the “Royte Ruv” — The Red Rabbi –- because he had red hair. A new Rabbi had come into the city and he was a portly looking man with a full head of black hair, and they called him the “Shvartza Ruv.” And these supporters rallied around him and were so ardent that they raised enough money to promote another synagogue in a big house on the corner of First and Lincoln Strict. So they had what was called the Shvartze Ruv’s Synagogue — the Black Rabbi’s Synagogue. And as I say, Mr. Macoby, who was a very devout, sincere man, did not look very favorably upon this new synagogue in competition to Shaarie Torah. But reluctantly he came in September of 1924 to the synagogue and I was able to have my Bar Mitzvah there successfully.

Magid: What was the name of the synagogue? Was it just in a house?
ARNSBERG: It was a synagogue in a house made over into a synagogue. I doubt if anybody actually remembers what name they gave to the synagogue. I don’t think… other than it was headed up by this Rabbi who was called the Shvartza Ruv, who later left town, and the mavericks that had left Shaarie Torah came back to become members there again. And in fact we have had a continuous membership at the Shaarie Torah for over 50 years, and I am happy to say that both of my sons had Rabbi Fain for their circumcisions and everything turned out all right.

Magid: Okay, thank you very much.