'When He Is Once Again a Mentsh'

In The Commentary Reader, published in 1966 and edited by Norman Podhoretz, I discovered a skillful writer new to me. Included in the anthology is Theodore Frankel’s (1922-1971) “My Friend Paul,” subtitled “One Who Survived,” originally published in the February 1957 issue of the magazine (one of nine he published in Commentary). Frankel calls his friend “Paul Weiss,” not his real name. The article begins: 

“Looking at Paul Weiss one would never suspect that only twelve years have passed since he came out of Buchenwald. He seems younger than his thirty years, and with his fair skin, blond hair, blue eyes set deeply beneath a broad, low forehead, his straight nose and slightly prognathous jaw, he is often taken for an Irishman—so long as he keeps quiet.”

 

Paul is a Polish Jew who survived the camp. Some 240,000 people were held in Buchenwald, at least 60,000 of whom died there. Frankel details Paul’s life in the Lager, his postwar life in the Munich black market and his emigration to New York City in 1949 at age twenty-four. Paul’s life in the U.S. at first centers on Broadway and 96^th Street, where he hangs out with fellow Jewish survivors of the Holocaust, speaking only in Yiddish and Polish. Readers will recognize Isaac Bashevis Singer’s turf: “Their world is bounded by the cafeteria, the poolroom upstairs, the Chinese restaurant on the next block, and the nearby hotels where they take furnished rooms by the week.” Frankel befriends him:    

 

“From time to time Paul would wave to a passing friend, then he would settle back, bite into his Danish, and tell me about the night in Auschwitz when the Germans gassed five thousand Gypsies to make room for new inmates.”

 

Paul soon lands a job in the Jewish resort hotels in the Catskills, first as a busboy, then as a waiter. Frankel describes the after-work gatherings of Paul and his fellow waiters:

 

“The ensuing bull session concerns girls, sports, jazz, and the dining room. Paul is an expert on all these topics and ever since he acquired some fluency in English he has invariably monopolized the conversation. He simply out-shouts and out-talks his companions. But what really gets the other fellows to listen is a certain caustic quality in his speech, a sharpness of wit still not quite perfectly translated into English, and the habit of putting his audience on the defensive by a series of sweeping attacks on American mores.”

 

Deeply suspicious of non-Jews, Paul is comfortable only among his friends in Manhattan, as close to a “home” as he will ever have:

 

“His real life begins with his return to the city, when he blossoms once again into a personality, when he is once again a mentsh. His first appearance on 96th Street would be worthy of an actor. He’ll quietly approach a gossiping group, give the man nearest him a resounding whack on the shoulder, and start cursing him in Yiddish and Polish. ‘Behemeh!’ [boor] he’ll scream, ‘meese chaye,’ [wild animal] and launch into a stream of oaths which are accepted in the spirit offered, a virtuoso performance expressing the joy of return and fraternal solidarity.”

 

Frankel seems to suggest that even people unimaginably damaged, who have endured horrors and survived, possess a human capacity for fellowship. We need each other. The social bond, however eccentric or strained, is essential if we wish to remain human. Here’s how Frankel concludes Paul’s story:

 

“To see what 96th Street means to them one need only watch Paul after a season in the Catskills as he settles down in the car carrying him home. He turns on the radio and leans forward eagerly. The strong, sad rhythm of jazz floods the car and Paul in a slightly hoarse voice sings the blues along with Count Basie, with the Duke, with King Cole, with the great Satchmo. ‘April in Paris,’ the announcer says and Paul closes his eyes, claps his hands and sways from side to side. ‘One mo’ time,’ he croaks, anticipating the frayed voice in the radio, ‘one mo’ time.’ Soon, soon, he’ll be back with the boys, all together, waiting.”

Frankel was obviously a gifted writer. He seems not to have published any books. His prose is notably clear and tight, no padding, no poeticizing. He has a story to tell, a life, and his attention never veers --  remarkable for an academic. I recommend reading all of his Commentary articles, using the link provided above.

   

[In a series of notes published in 1973 in Slavic Review I learned more about Theodore Frankel:

 

“Theodore Frankel died after a brief illness in December 1971. From 1939, when as a seventeen-year-old Jewish youth in occupied Danzig he convinced his German SS examiners that he was a bona fide candidate for studies at New York's Yeshiva University, he was devoted to the world of ideas and deeply concerned with precision in thought and writing.

 

“He did come to the United States, was graduated from Yeshiva, and became a U.S. citizen. After receiving an M.A. in economics from Columbia University in 1945, he spent a number of years as associate editor of Commentary. In 1958 he began a thirteen-year career with the U.S. government which took him from the U.S. Army School Europe at Oberammergau, Germany, to research work at the Library of Congress. Though in such posts he was able to add his insights to the body of governmental knowledge about the USSR and Eastern Europe, he gained an opportunity to share his erudition with the broader community of scholars only in 1970 when he succeeded Abraham Brumberg as editor of Problems of Communism. His blend of continental thoroughness and American pragmatism flourish during his brief tenure as he labored endless hours to nurture the scholarly content of that journal, standing uniquely at the crossroads of governmental and academic research. Despite the weight of editorial responsibilities, Frankel went on to pursue a doctorate at George Washington University. He moved with unassuming ease from the classroom to the podium at colloquia sponsored by the university's Institute for Sino-Soviet Studies. His dissertation -- never completed -- was to have been a study of the Marxist philosopher Moses Hess, about whom he had written (in German) in his early days at Yeshiva.”]