Excerpts From Urke Nachalnik's Book: "Zyciorys Wlasny Przestepcy"

Book Titled "Biography of a Criminal" in English

Translated By: Frank L. Vigoda

I see this as through a fog - a little town on the banks of the River Narew. A two-storey brick house lies in the centre of the town, almost on the market square. From the outside it is distinguishable only for having a porch with two benches at the entrance to a store. Above the entrance is the Russian sign 'Flour Shop,' along with the woman proprietor's name, N.N.

The owner of the house is a tall man of 30, healthy-looking with soft, disarming eyes. These features are usually found in extraordinarily strong people. His wife is a woman of 25 with an intelligent look - a typical blonde. This rather well-matched couple belongs to the Jewish intelligentsia of this small town.

In my mind's eye I see this house on a beautiful day in June 1897. The store is closed because of the birth of the first-born son. Friends and relatives are congratulating my parents; I see great joy all around.

I see my mother lying in the bedroom, all in white with a triumphant maternal smile playing on her somewhat pale face. I lie on her right side, bundled in my blankets. My father stands in the centre of the room receiving congratulations. He's serious and thoughtful; his eyes shine with happiness.

I see people come and go from the house. On every face I see joy, both sincere and insincere.

More people gather in front of the house. They comment on the miracle of my birth. I hear snippets of conversation: 'God showed His mercy and listened to them, giving them a son.' Now I hear whispers: 'The rich always have luck!' The woman listening nods her head, and lifts her hands reverently, saying, 'A real wonder, five years after the wedding, nu, nu. God can do anything - for Him nothing is impossible!' Another pale Jewish woman with black hair, looking like an old slave, peers around shyly and asks in a timid whisper, 'Is it true that she went to the tsadik in Libawa [Liepāja] [Also known as Libau, a city in Western Latvia, on the Baltic Sea - Ed.] and returned a month ago?'

I see a plump Jewess taking her aside and saying mysteriously, 'Nobody can produce miracles like that tsadik in Libawa. My cousin hadn't had a baby in fifteen years, and then on her rabbi's advice she went to him and had a son shortly after.'

'Maybe I should go to him too.' The pale woman blushes. 'As you know, I also somehow can't...' And lowering her voice she adds, 'seven years after my wedding...!'

'You, my dear,' answers the other disdainfully, 'you are too poor to receive his blessing.' These and other conversations revolved around my arrival into the world.

On my eighth day of life I see a stir in the house along with preparations for celebration. On that day the ritual of introduction into the ranks of believers in the commandment of Israel is to be held. The rooms shine with cleanliness; candles in brass and silver candlesticks burn on the tables. Women's laughter comes from a room full of friends and relatives where my mother lies. Men sit in another room at tables arranged in a semicircle. My father and our relatives serve as hosts and try to sit every newcomer in an appropriate place, depending on his position in the town hierarchy.

The rabbi with a long grey beard and beautifully curled sidelocks sits in the place of honour and recites something aloud. Everyone listens intently.

Then the door opens and a Jew with the imposing look of Abraham carries me in. I lie on a pillow and scream with all my might, as if aware of what awaits me. The pillow, along with me, is passed from hand to hand. A Jew with red hair bends over me with the ritual knife. With dirty hands, he starts the procedure... My cries die on my lips and complete silence seizes the room. The old rabbi prays, moving his lips soundlessly. Then, as if woken from a dream, he breaks the silence with a cry 'Mazl tov, mazl tov!' Everybody present hugs and congratulates my father.

'God, give him health!'

'God, let me see his wedding!'

'God, let him become a tsadik!'

'God, let us see the times of the Messiah!'

My father receives this all with a glowing face and my mother wants me returned to her, a demand met immediately. Now I'm back by her side.

After the celebration is over, various dishes and beverages appear on the table. The feast begins. They toast me and tell racy jokes, thoroughly exploiting the occasion by talking about local events and interests, prolonging the feast long into the night.

*

Five years had passed since the day I joined the believers in the Mosaic faith. These were not just the best years of my childhood, but of my life. During that time my fate regarding my elementary education was decided.

I remember it as if it were yesterday. At my fifth birthday dinner I noticed my mother and father were keeping something from me, arguing about it. From a few overheard words I realized the conversation concerned me, but I didn't know the issue. Later I learned that the controversy concerned my future. My father wanted my intellect to be developed, rather than fed with fairy tales about miracles, devils, and wondrous acts; he wanted me to attend our town's public school. Whereas my mother, a hasid's daughter, firmly believed that the Lord God gave her a son through the tsadik's intercession, and not a son to be raised as a goy but as a servant of the Lord. She was adamant about this. She even claimed that I would become a tsadik or at least a rabbi. Towards this end she insisted that I begin my education in a traditional kheyder. Unable to reach agreement, they resolved to ask me which I preferred: a school or a kheyder.

To convince me of their respective desires, both father and mother outdid themselves giving me presents and treats. Therefore, on the day I had to decide my future, my mother gave me a pretty toy horse, a lead soldier, and a chocolate bar to boot, so I fell under her influence and agreed to go to the kheyder.

I clearly remember the day my mother took me to the kheyder for the first time. I see myself through the mists of time - a little boy squeezed behind a large table among several tykes in colourful outfits whose appearance reflected the means of those who sired them.

We bend over a book and recite in a variety of voices. In the middle on a dirty clay floor several girls sit in various positions. They are playing, each in her own way. In the corner of the kheyder the silhouette of the rebbe's wife flickers in the smoke; she mutters something under her breath about her husband. The room is rather small, located in the basement, and is never aired. The students constantly breathe in smoke and fumes. The smoke irritates eyes, not to mention that it is unbearably hot and stuffy.

Standing upright in the middle of the kheyder, almost threateningly, the rebbe [in this context, the term rebbe is used to mean kheyder teacher - melamed] reigns over this pack of children. In his right hand he holds his nine-tailed sceptre, the almighty whip. From time to time he tries his unchecked power, lashing the backs of the boys closest to him, more for practice than necessity. We huddle into a tight group so that not a needle can be squeezed between us. The rebbe swings his whip over our heads and waves it menacingly in the air.

That's what this temple of learning that my father had opposed looked like. Yet, because gifts had bought my consent, I had to stay there every day from eight in the morning to nine at night. Every day was the same as the next, with no variety. The rebbe never allowed us to open the windows, claiming that he would lose his voice with which he graced Saturday services in the synagogue. Nor did the sun ever peek into our kheyder, as there was a pen in front of the window where the rebbe kept his livestock, consisting of two goats and four kids. The rebbe's goats truly plagued the entire town. These pests would never stop bothering the local peasants who came to town for church or shopping. The goats were everywhere. Sometimes they even stole the breakfasts we brought from home from the windowsill. Because the rebbe asked us to put them there, we didn't know if he was doing this on purpose or not. But it made things easier for the goats and they helped us eat our breakfasts. The rebbe claimed there was no nicer creature in the whole world than a goat; you never need to feed it and it gives good milk.

The bleating of goats and the screaming of children annoyed me so much that I would have gladly run away from that paradise to the ends of the earth, but my fear of the rebbe was greater. This is what kept me there. Still, some days we breathed fresh air. This was when we played in the yard and the sun shone on us with its soothing rays. Unfortunately there were very few such days - this depended on the number of traditional weddings when the rebbe took on an extra role singing to the newlyweds as a badkhn.

On such days he freed us from his company and allowed us to play in the yard. The yard was a dump, but for us it was nice because it had everything that we needed for play. No wonder that we regularly looked for notices of new engagements.

Already then, despite our youth, the question would come up - why do people marry? Each of us had an explanation. Finally, the cobbler's son, who was the oldest - already 10 when he came to the kheyder - saying that he knew why, basing this on his observation of his parents. He told us what his father and mother did at night. As for me, I firmly rejected this and called him a liar. Srulek (this was his name) did not give up, and immediately showed us how to do it. Obviously he was 'Tate' [daddy] and chose a girl to serve as the 'Mame' [mummy]. An obstacle arose - in order to marry one needed a bed. At least this is what Srulek claimed. Seeing his hesitation, we all decided that the broken trunk standing by the window could be the bed. The girl, however, having no idea what was going on, baulked and refused to get into the trunk. Srulek grabbed her by the waist and forced her into the trunk while she valiantly defended herself. When she saw that she was over powered, she started crying with terrified screams, as though calling for help from all of us. Without thinking, I stood up for her, which caused a fist fight with Srulek. In the end I won, so the performance did not occur.

When the rebbe returned and learned about this incident, he gave me ten lashes on that part of the body which, as he said, won't hurt the head and actually makes it smarter.

[At the age of 13, after completing kheyder, the boy is sent to the yeshiva in Lomza.]

The yeshiva building was located more or less in the centre of the town on a large cobbled square near the rector's residence. The yeshiva itself consisted of a large room, so large that the architect added a row of columns in the middle to support the ceiling. By the wall, across from the foot of the stairs, was the orn - koydesh [ark] and the altar. There were rows of benches on both sides of the hall where even at night you saw students of different ages, some even with long beards, engrossed in the Talmud.

The yeshiva was divided into four grades. Each grade had its days of classes, that is, the first grade had classes every day, the second had classes every other day. The third grade met twice a week and the fourth consisted of the students who studied on their own most of the time. There were even some among them who by now could have been rabbis. I always looked with envy at their ascetic figures because nobody from the first grade could easily reach the fourth grade; learning in each grade took several years at least. The first grade was taught by an old man with a white beard and a holy face. He lectured slowly and clearly, but when we reached a chapter in the Talmud that talked about men's relations with women he would tell us to skip a page or two so that we did not touch upon this topic. However, we would take every opportunity to peek secretly at what was hidden there. Scared and fearful we would read the prohibited passage, but were not always able to understand the content and interpreted it in different ways. Woe to him who got caught by the teacher studying and deliberating on these matters. This was why everybody kept on guard and looked behind his shoulder as if committing a crime.

It was not unusual that the old man did not lecture on these topics. It stemmed from the custom in the yeshiva not to talk about what was considered too complicated for young people. They thought that, if a teacher touched upon sensitive issues, this would show an easy way to sin instead of protecting you from it. They saw the greatest of evil in anything concerning that impure creature called woman.

All in all I liked the order and mood of the yeshiva. I was proud to be the youngest of 200 students. Also I was aware that I was well liked by my classmates, which made me feel good. On the other hand I missed what I had left behind, the sun and woods of the River Narew. Constant compulsory study of the Talmud was tiresome, and I was only too happy when classes were over and I could leave the gloomy walls of the yeshiva. [...]

In the yard of the yeshiva was a ramshackle shed. One half of it sheltered those without a 'day place' [It was a custom that poor students were treated to dinner each day in a different Jewish home (esn teg: eating days); thus the term 'day place'] and a place to sleep at night. These students could stay in the shed overnight sleeping on dirty bunks. The other half of the shed had been occupied for years by a cobbler who would repair the shoes of the future redeemers of Israel for five copecks. He was a 40-year-old Jew with a pockmarked face. His wife looked just like him. They were extremely poor but luckily they were childless. For once God was just, because no child could grow up in such a stench. The cobbler was a pious hasid, a follower of the Libawa tsadik who had bestowed on him this post of court cobbler, despite his poverty. He was always cheerful. His wife did the poorer students' laundry and sold half-rotten fruit.

He had no furniture save a broken workbench, a stool, a table, a trunk, and a bundle of bedding in the corner, but he was good at telling stories about the miracles of his tsadik. Of course, as future tsadiks we loved to listen to him.

I remember him once being asked why he wouldn't ask God or his tsadik to make him rich if he believed in miracles so much. He gave us a sad smile and answered full of faith, 'I'm not worthy of his grace.' I jokingly asked, 'Reb Leyzer' (this was his name), 'if the Libawa tsadik told you to become a thief, would you listen to him?' He looked at me and put aside a muddy boot he held in his hand. After a pensive moment he responded steadfastly, 'I would not hesitate to do whatever the tsadik asks of me.' I interrupted, 'Even eating khazer [pig]?' Everybody started laughing. 'Yes, he said, I would do even the worst thing if he ordered me, even jump into fire! Do you know why? He knows what comes out ahead of time; therefore whatever he commands is surely for the good, even if it looks bad at the time. If I had time I would tell you about one such case...

There were maybe ten of us there, as this was on Friday, when everybody is free, and we all started to press him to tell us the story until he finally gave in. He told us to believe that everything he was about to tell was true. We gave our word that we would believe every word he said, and so he started.

'In a large town in Poland there was a very rich hasid. He owned several factories and a bank. Every year during the high holidays he visited his tsadik, to whom he gave large sums of money for charity. It was like this for many years. One year he came to the tsadik for the holidays and he was very upset. When the holidays were over and he was leaving for home, the tsadik gave him his blessing. But the man started crying and told the tsadik that he had had very bad luck the last year. He had lost a great portion of his riches and asked the tsadik for advice how to improve things.

The tsadik looked at the sky and then he said these words to the hasid: "Listen, Khayim, I have some advice for you that can make you rich again, but I know you won't do it."

Khayim answered, "Rebbe, if I can't do it, I don't want to know about it..."

Next year he came again and threw himself at the rebbe's feet.

"Rebbe, help! I have already lost more than half my property, what can I do?"

The tsadik told him to rise and said: "I told you, I have a solution but I believe you would never do it, so it's better that you don't know..."

And again Khayim returned home sad and depressed.

He came back again in yet another year. He looked destitute. He fell at the tsadik's feet. "Rebbe, I lost all I had. My wife and children are crying for bread. I am a beggar. Save me!"

The tsadik responded, "I already told you and I can repeat it again."

"Rebbe, cried Khayim, "command me. I'll do anything not to die of starvation."

"Fine," answered the tsadik, "listen to me. Go home and become a thief!"

"I, a thief?" cried Khayim, "Never, never ever. I'd rather die of hunger with my wife and children than become a thief..."

"I told you," said the rebbe, "you would not want to do this. So be it, I don't have any other advice for you."

Khayim left sad and frustrated but firmly convinced that he would rather perish than take someone else's property.

Two weeks had passed since he returned home. His wife and children kept asking for bread. What could he do? He would never do this for himself, but what about his wife and children - was this their fault? "I have to do it for them," he thought. "I can't stand their tears." But here the poor guy had a problem. "How can I go about it? Money doesn't lie on the street ready to be stolen, so even if I decide to do it, I don't know how...But there's no choice and one must try." He prayed, and then he dressed up in his last good kapote and tied up his tsitses. He went to the attic, found a nail, and waited until midnight. "Come what may, I'll try."

At midnight, when he started out on his mission, the whole town was fast asleep. He sneaked past the houses. Finally, barely knowing what he was doing, he started fiddling with the lock to a shop. Suddenly the lock opened and he got in. He pulled out a drawer in the counter which contained many gold, silver, and small coins. He found a copper copeck piece and said, "God, I'm borrowing these 5 copecks for bread; I'll return them as soon as I can." And so he left the shop. In the morning the owner found the door open and raised alarm. The police arrived, but it turned out that only 5 copecks were missing. They couldn't understand what this meant.

The same thing happened the next night, and so it went on. An uproar started in town that there was a break-in at a different shop every night, and each time only 5 copecks were missing, even from steel boxes. The news reached the governor-general. He ordered a soldier to be placed on guard at each shop, but even this did not help. Five copecks disappeared as before, and all the bolts and locks were opened. The governor-general ordered the soldiers who guarded the shops that had been robbed to come before him so he could interrogate them in person. Each soldier swore that he had been awake all night and had noticed nothing. The general decided to check this himself. In the evening he disguised himself as a night burglar and went to investigate. He patrolled the wealthy streets where the copeck thefts usually occurred, but he couldn't find anything. He was about to return home when he noticed a Jew boldly approaching a jeweller's. The iron door soon opened and the Jew walked in.

The general followed and saw the Jew open a safe, find a 5 copeck coin, and say, as usual, that he was just borrowing it for bread and would return it with interest as soon as he could. The general stood quietly behind him, put his hand on his shoulder, and said, "Don't be scared, I am a thief too. We're in the same trade - no need to be afraid of me." Noticing that the Jew was frightened, the general continued, "I see you can open locks. Let's work together. Why steal only copecks at a time? What do you say?" The Jew did not want to agree. He explained that he was just borrowing and wanted to leave. The general told him, "If you don't want me as a partner I will hand you over to the police. It's up to you," and he grabbed him by the collar. The Jew did not want to be caught, so he accepted the offer, but under the condition that they wouldn't take anything else from that shop.

The general laughed, "I have a better job for you. If it works we will be the richest people in the town. Listen, I have been looking for someone like you for a long time, someone who can be invisible and overcome any obstacle. With you I can put my old plan to work. As you know, the governor-general lives in our town and he is very rich. He has a million roubles in cash and many precious stones. We have to go together. I know every nook in the palace and where the treasury is. You will get in unnoticed past the soldier who is on guard there. We will share the loot and become rich once and for all. What do you say?"

At first the Jew did not want to agree, but he gave in under threats and pressure. They went to the palace and upon entering the general showed the Jew the way to the treasury. He stayed behind waiting in the shadows of the palace walls. After half an hour the Jew returned with empty hands. The angry general asked him what this meant. The Jew responded, "I was just by the treasury when I heard a man who looked like a servant talking to the soldier on guard. 'When the general comes,' said the servant, 'we will give him poisoned tea or coffee, then we will take the money and escape abroad.' The soldier agreed."

"So how could I take anything? No, I couldn't. It's better that we write to the general so he will not drink the tea. He is a good man. I feel sorry for him..."

The general tried to insist that the Jew go back, but to no avail. Finally he said to him, "I don't want to deal with such a stupid thief,' and on this they parted.

The dawn was grey when the general returned to the palace. He entered his study and rang up his servant ordering him to bring him something to drink. The servant asked if the general wanted tea or coffee. "Tea," said the general. The servant brought the tea in a flash, and the general asked him if it was sweet enough. "Yes," answered the servant. The general, pretending to skim casually through his papers said, "Please, try it!" The servant baulked, but the general looked at him menacingly and ordered him to try it. The servant tried to back towards the door. The general called the guard, and several soldiers ran into the room. He ordered them to put the servant and the soldier who guarded the treasury in chains. Then, in order to convince the eyewitnesses, the general gave some tea to the dog. The dog did not even manage to swallow it before he dropped dead on the floor. After this the general ordered the soldiers to bring the Jew to him. The general already knew where he lived. When the soldiers led the Jew in chains across town, nobody who knew him could guess what the charge was against such a noble person. It did not occur to them that he was the 5 copeck thief sought by the police for so long. He was brought to the general, who ordered him unchained and asked if he recognized him. The Jew responded that he didn't. The general turned to him with these words:

"Do you remember? I was the thief that night who told you about the job at the general's palace. I am the general. I wanted to try you, and you saved my life. If not for you, these worthless fellows would have poisoned me. I owe you my salvation. For this you get half that money, half a million roubles, just as if we stole it together." He gave the money to the Jew, who from that day on became even richer than before. He returned all of his 5 copeck loans with generous interest.

This was the aim of the tsadik who had told him to become a thief. The tsadik knew beforehand what would come of it. So whatever he commands, even if it seems not to be very good at first, must be done at once.'

We were thrilled with this story. It remained in my memory and I could repeat it word for word.

*

[Nachalnik receives news about the death of his mother but is urged not to return home. He struggles to support himself and finds board at the house of a prostitute with whom he has a relationship. As a result he neglects his studies. He returns home for the following Passover.]

*

The first Passover after my mother's death was sad, even if my stepmother tried hard to be good to us to help us in our grief. Alas, although my brother and sister seemed to miss our mother less than I, I was not able to trust my stepmother completely.

When the holiday was over, I learned from my father what had caused our relationship to cool. In a letter my cousin had complained that I was taking life easy while neglecting my studies. He suggested that my father keep me impoverished so that I would become a man sooner. He also told my father about my adventures. When I learned about this, I was so angry with my cousin that I told my father everything I knew about him.

My father laughed at my revenge and asked me what my plans were for the future. I didn't answer. From my silence he concluded that I planned to stay at home. He indicated to me what direction he thought I should take: 'You can't stay at home. I'm going to apprentice you because it seems to me you've had enough of this yeshiva learning.' These last words were said in a rather nasty tone.

I am not sure if I disliked all manual work already by then, but I did not want to become an artisan. I wondered why my father did not want me to stay home, and I put the blame squarely on my stepmother. I suspected this was her idea. To prove that her scheme wouldn't work, I firmly told my father that I had decided to return to the yeshiva to fulfill the promise made to my mother.

My father was not pleased with my answer. He became angry with me and said I could go wherever I liked but he wouldn't give me a penny more because he was convinced that I would never be a rabbi. On this note my quarrel with my father ended.

The next day he sent me to one of his debtors to collect 82 roubles for flour. When I got the money, a foolish thought popped into my mind: 'You have money so you can go wherever you like...' Initially I was scared by this thought, but the memory of my father's words, 'you can go wherever you like,' stirred such bitterness in me that all my thoughts turned towards the idea of going away into the world. At the same time this thought was challenged by the words of the commandment 'you shall not steal.' But I even found a way of getting around this warning, namely, by telling myself that the money was my father's, and that by taking it I wasn't harming anyone. Thus, struggling with myself I walked out of town instead of returning home.

It was a beautiful day. Without even realizing what I was doing or where I was going I found myself on the-road to the town of R. I had never before had such a sum of money on me; this reassured me that I would somehow cope in life. Thinking like this and constantly checking to make sure the money was still there, I found myself near the ferry, which was located two versts beyond the town. The ferryman looked at me suspiciously and asked where I was going. He recognized me because sometimes he came to our house. To avoid telling him the truth, I lied as well as I could. I told him that my father had sent me on business to the estate G., to the squire. I mentioned this estate because I knew it was 2 kilometres away.

I was surprised at my own ability to lie so smoothly. Nobody taught me this and it was against my nature. I thought about the maxim from the Talmud, 'Aveyro greges aveyro' ['A sin leads to a sin.' The actual citation, in Ashkenazi Hebrew, is 'Aveyro goyreres aveyro' (Mishnah, Pirkei avot 4: 2)].

I thought, 'Maybe I should go back, there is still time,' because I realized the consequences of what I had done, for instance what an uproar it would cause at home and what gossip would fill the town. But I crossed the Narew and went on, as if pushed by some unknown evil force. In the next town I learned that the railway station was nearby and that the train came once a day, stopping at the station just for a brief moment. I joined a few other passengers going to the train, and, having paid 10 copecks, climbed on a horse-drawn carriage going to the station. We arrived too early and had to wait until midnight for the train.

It was a strange thing, you could say the earth was burning beneath my feet. Every time someone asked where I was going, or even just looked at me, I was certain he knew who I was and where I was coming from, could read the word 'thief' written on my face, and was ready to give me over into the hands of a mean 'Matvei' [policeman]. I was scared of my own shadow. I regretted my thoughtless step. But it was impossible to turn back. Probably everybody in my town was already talking about my escape. So 'bridges were burned,' and what will be will be. For a while I thought about where I should go. One thing was resolved, I wouldn't go back to the gloomy embrace of the yeshiva. I would go into the world. No matter where it led! I felt money in my pocket, which to me meant that somehow I would manage.

Within two days I was in the large, strange city of Vilna. Most of the day I walked the streets without purpose. When I felt hungry I went to one tea-shop or another. In one of them I made the acquaintance of a Jew who claimed to be from my area. I believed him because he talked about people I knew. After half an hour of conversation I was so taken by him that I confessed my travel intentions to him, and also that I had money and how I got it. On hearing this the Jew took so much of a liking to me that he decided to accompany me on my travels.

From that moment he wouldn't leave me. In the evening he led me to a house on a distant street where a relative of his supposedly lived and where I could be safe from my father's pursuit.

I was met by a young woman. After introducing us my friend told me to make myself at home. Then he excused himself and left to take care of some urgent business.

As soon as we were alone, the young woman gave me a mysterious smile and asked me to sit next to her on the couch. This invitation surprised me, but after a little hesitation I did as she asked. I noticed that she was very pretty, or at least she seemed pretty to me. I readily answered her questions and did not resist much when she took my hand and pulled me closer to her. Her hints that I be bolder made my head spin and I was ready to proceed.

An abrupt shake brought me back to my senses. I turned round. An older man stood before me with a threatening gesture. The frightened woman jumped back, while I sat there helpless, surprised, and scared, not knowing what was going on. The man raised his fist above my head and yelled, 'You snot-nose... You came here to mess around with my wife!... I'm going to teach you...' Seeing that I was in danger, the woman jumped between us to protect me.

The story ended quickly with me being thrown out on the street without a penny in my pocket because my whole fortune was taken from me. Only then did I realize that I had fallen prey to what they call a 'scam.' I had heard about such things before. The whole farce was cleverly devised and well acted, and it was initiated by the fellow I met in the café.

Later, when I became a part of that world and familiar with its secrets and the tricks of the trade, I met that 'good' company several times. They laughed at me and my naivety. I laughed with them and shared their principle that one should 'suck the soul from a fool like the last breath from your horse,' which more or less meant that if somebody lets you dupe him, you should go all the way. [...]

*

It was the beginning of May. I arrived in the village of G. on the River Niemen, flanked on both sides by beautiful forests and hills. This was a resort especially liked by Jews. The house, or rather villa, that was pointed out to me had a glass veranda and stood out among the others. Upon entering I was met by an imposing man of 46 and his large family. I was expected and received very well.

After initial greetings, they invited me to their table and served me tea and preserves. During the conversation the owner subtly inspected me, asking where I came from and about my family, and then he asked about my education. My answers were excellent and I saw they pleased him. Then he started to discuss the conditions. As for me, I knew from the beginning that the outcome would be good because I was much better educated than the examiner; this was confirmed by loud applause after every satisfactory answer. Also, his appraisal of my appearance was favourable, a conclusion I came to after observing the discreet looks that the villa owner's daughter Sonia gave me now and then.

The deal was that at New Year I was to receive the salary of 50 roubles. Until then I was to get bread and board, first at Mr B's and then at the villa [thereby apparently tutoring in two households]. For this I was to teach four pupils for a few hours each day about the Pentateuch and the Prophets, as well as how to write in Hebrew and Yiddish. [...]

One day late in the afternoon, the word went out in the village that a vacationer had disappeared. He was an elderly man, the owner of a bank in Kaunas (Kowno) who had gone to the woods early in the morning and had not returned. They thought he had lost his way. The entire village went out to search for him. Of course I was among the first to join the expedition. As you can guess, Sonia was by my side.

The search party was all over the woods. Now and then someone would call, 'Yoo-hoo, yoo-hoo!' Echoes multiplied the voices and they were heard all over. The noise was such as to raise the dead. Perhaps the lost man heard it as well, but he didn't respond... But I am not going to write much about him here; I'll just tell you what happened. He was found dead in the woods. The doctors said he died of a stroke. He had a large sum of money on him that his soul forgot to take while joining the angels and it was left for his heirs.

To return to my story - initially Sonia and I participated in the search and even yelled together with the others with all our might. But we gradually left the rest of the company and walked along the edge of the woods on the banks of the Niemen. We stopped calling and became preoccupied with each other...

It was already dark. The September evening delightfully enveloped the woods and the river. The calls of the searchers had long stopped reaching our ears. Arms around each other, we walked on and on, listening to the eternal murmur of our natural surroundings and breathing the refreshing scent of herbs and resin.

We climbed a little hill that was like an island amid the sea of green. There Sonia stopped. She felt tired and suggested that we rest, so we sat down. She held me even closer. A damp, chilly breeze was coming off the river. She just had a light scarf on, and was shivering with cold. I took off my coat and covered my companion.

I was completely happy with my beloved at my side and listening to the beating of her heart. I wanted time to stop for ever.

I was awakened from this dream by her asking me to tell her something about myself. I started telling her about my family - my mother and my home. I did not tell her about my father because this particular memory always brought that bad thing concerning the money to my mind. I was surprised that Sonia listened, but she seemed to ask questions more to pass the time than out of genuine interest.

I felt uneasy. I lost my composure and fell silent. Suddenly, what a shock - I couldn't believe my ears when I heard her ask, 'Tell me, rebbe. Have you ever been with a woman?' I was stunned. I thought the forest had fallen on my head. I couldn't believe that my beloved Sonia could actually ask about something like this. I did not understand at all what she wanted from me. As for me, it never crossed my mind that I could harm my love... A great love for her burned in me and I acted like a slave before a princess.

'Tell me...tell me...,' she insisted, clutching my hand passionately. 'Come on, come on... 'N-o, n-e-v-e-r,' I choked out the answer, my voice trembling with emotion. 'Would you like to try it now?' she asked innocently, wrapping her body around me.

Instead of answering I started to tear off her clothes... And so it happened. Calling as witnesses the stars shining above us so beautifully, the woods and the River Niemen, which also saw the mystery of our love, I pledged that I would love her until death and that nothing would ever separate us. Hearing the confessions of my love, she just smiled and said, 'that's not necessary...Just keep your mouth shut... I will be with you again when the opportunity arises.' I shivered at these words. I did not understand their meaning. Until then I thought that a young woman, especially somebody like Sonia, would treat the act of love as a sacred thing or at least expect from a man honest feelings that would secure her future.

The flippancy with which Sonia treated the whole thing put me completely out of kilter. I could not gather my thoughts. To tease me even more, she laughed at my naivety on our way back as if nothing had happened. Then, to top it off, she noted cynically that I had ripped her panties.

We arrived home past midnight. Everybody was asleep. I quietly crept to my room and lay down in bed. But there was no way I could fall asleep. The emotions of the adventure that had just ended were too strong. For the hundredth time I relived the evening in my thoughts, and each time I reached the same words which I could hardly understand, 'That's not necessary. Just keep your mouth shut.'

Yet I was completely at peace with myself about one thing; I was aware that for the first time I had tasted the real pleasure that a woman gives... I totally agreed with the Talmud, which describes this as being equal to the delights of paradise. I had not known 'paradise,' but now I could imagine it more precisely. I had to say that being eternally in paradise would be a rather pleasant thing. I began to envy those who are taken directly there after death.

These and other thoughts ran through my head until I collapsed with exhaustion and fell asleep. I was dreaming I was in paradise. I was sitting among beautiful, completely naked girls shaped like the ancient goddesses I once saw in a book in the library, and I delighted in their beauty. The women tried to seduce me with their bodies... I embraced one of them, pulled her closer to me, and she returned my embrace. I felt pleasure and delight spreading through my body...and I woke up. The dark room made me realize how far I had drifted from reality. I felt angry with myself, but tried to calm down.

But there was no way I could. My imagination, once unleashed, was conjuring up fantastic images and wouldn't let my mind rest. Such thoughts and plans emerged that I would never have dared to imagine before.

A wild thought came to me and became more and more pressing - to go to Sonia's room. I could not struggle any more with the mysterious force that pushed me. I got up from my bed and creeping like a shadow through the corridor and dining room, I proceeded towards her bedroom. With my heart pounding after passing all the obstacles, I stood at the door to my goal. I froze, because it seemed to me that I heard whispering. I moved closer to the door and was all ears.

No, I was not mistaken. This was not my imagination. I clearly heard the quiet whispering and subdued laughter of two people. In my divine Sonia's room was the student who taught her French, an ordinary man of 25.

Only then did I realize the nature of his frequent visits to Sonia's room. I was so naive that I had never thought these visits were also repeated at night. This was not difficult because his room was next to Sonia's.

The pain of disappointment seized my heart. I leaned against the door in order not to fall. I felt tears of sorrow for lost happiness rising in my throat and choking me. I staggered towards the student's room. It was empty. His clothes were scattered all over the chairs and on the floor. He had left his room in just his underwear.

I was boiling; my blood beat hotly, hammering away in my swollen temple and veins. Now I knew what her words, 'That's not necessary... Just keep your mouth shut' meant. She did not love me. She was just a harlot!

The contradictory feelings of disappointed love and jealousy which had tormented me before began to turn into a desire born in hell - the desire for revenge! This idea would not leave me alone and I started to look around for the opportunity to implement it.

I did not know what my revenge would be, but I decided to do something. Suddenly my eyes spotted a gold watch hanging from the wall, teasing me with its shiny surface as if sneering at my helplessness. 'Take it,' a tempting voice whispered to me. 'There is also a wallet with money under his pillow...take it! After the spasms of love, such a loss will hurt him even more. You can't stay here anyway. He sneered at you, constantly mocked you and you were the butt of his nasty jokes...You could not stand him before...and now, after what you witnessed...take it and run away!'

Overcome by these thoughts I approached the bed and reached for the watch. I quietly took it from the wall, and with equal skill dug the wallet out as if I were already a professional thief. Seized by some inexplicable fear I sneaked out of the door, and then returned to my room the same as before. Here I immediately put on my clothes, quickly gathered my belongings, and slipped out onto the street like a snake.

It was past midnight. I walked, no - ran, driven by an unknown fear. I was by turns sweating buckets and shivering with cold; I trembled. A strange pressure bore down on my head, and my legs were leaden. At times I stopped and was almost unable to move on. I was making superhuman efforts not to fall. My mouth was completely dry and my heart was pounding so hard and fast that I could barely breathe.

I was furious with myself for my cowardice. What is the use of nerve if it produces such suffering? For once, make it stop...

The way I took led to a railway station 10 kilometers away. I had just one thought, to be there as soon as possible. The feeling of satisfied revenge together with the watch and stuffed wallet in my pocket propelled me and pushed me on and on. Yet at the same time the fear of a chase paralyzed me. At moments my legs refused to carry me and I had to stop. I tried to forget about what had happened, but, despite all my excuses, my conscience refused to be silent. The call of 'thief!..thief!...stop...you still can...' rang in my ears.

I forced my legs like a madman, and again ran breathlessly towards the saviour railway station. Finally the tracks appeared and the lights of the small station buildings shone before me. I breathed a sigh of relief and slowly walked towards my destination.

The oil lamp in the station shed dim light. The tobacco smoke in the air made the room even darker. Only after a while could I see the people waiting for the train. A few dozen peasants and several women sat on the floor by their bundles. None wore town clothes. I cautiously looked around and tried to spot a far corner where I would not draw any attention to myself. But first I wanted to find out about the train. So I approached a babushka who was swaying, half asleep. After some mumbling she told me that the train would arrive in two hours. I realized that staying in the station for so long could be dangerous for me and I changed my mind. I decided to pass the time outside the building. I moved towards the door.

Suddenly a guard appeared in front of me. 'Vy kuda?' ['Where are you going?'] he asked. I was speechless with fear and couldn't even open my mouth. Noticing my fear the guard became even more suspicious and, to the surprise of a few night passengers, he took me by the collar and dragged me to the sentry room. The gendarme who was dozing at the table lazily raised his head when he saw us and was visibly angry that his sweet dream had been interrupted. He stared at me with his evil, bloodshot eyes. The guard reported that he had brought in a suspicious person (myself) who had probably done something wrong since he wanted to run and did not have his passport on him.

The gendarme yawned several times while listening to this rather long report. He stretched his body, which was stiff from sleep. He apparently did not completely trust the guard's investigative intuition. Yet when he heard, 'net pasporta' ['no passport'], he livened up and ordered, 'Search him!'

I fell to pieces! I had just experienced so many emotions, and so many new things had happened to me recently, and now I was in the hands of an evil guard and an equally dangerous gendarme. All at once, this was just too much for my nerves. I couldn't answer the questions they asked me - just cried aloud with streams of tears running down my cheeks.

First the watch was put on the table, followed by the wallet, in which I found out there were 30 roubles and some papers. The guard and the gendarme looked at all of this with keen interest, especially at the watch, which they unanimously decided was 'gold.' Now they were convinced they had a vor [thief] on their hands. They could not work out where these things came from and whose they were, because, as I mentioned above, I was crying the whole time. The gendarme ordered me to be locked up for further investigation. The door locked behind me with a slam and I fell on the floor crying. I tore my hair and wailed.

[Nachalnik spends several weeks in prison and is finally bailed out by his father. He returns to his town, where his father keeps humiliating him by telling everybody about his thievery; he wants to escape and tries to steal his father's wallet. His father then sends him to work for his uncle as an apprentice in his bakery. Overworked, he falls sick with 'brain fever.' After recuperating, he is supposed to return home but instead remains and becomes a horse-drawn-cab driver (dorokarz).]

At first I liked my job. But after a month I had had enough of it. I was not happy with the meagre income I was making in this business. My circle of friends had grown, and so had my expenses. I was jealous of my peers, who had nice clothes, hung around with pretty girls, and had a good time. They would not even avoid large bills.

I figured out how some of them made money. I wanted to have an easy life too, and for the time being suppressed this desire, but I felt that sooner or later I would give in to temptation. In fact it happened before I even noticed it. Owing to a coincidence that had nothing to do with me, I was gradually driven into participating in forays which, had they failed, could easily have landed me in prison.

One day my boss told me to take three 'respectable gentlemen' (as he called them) to a place some 18 kilometres away. They were quite well-dressed young men, pleasant, and in good humour. We arrived at the 'place' at midnight. I say 'place' even if this is not exactly right, because I was told to stop on the road by a tree and wait for their return. I was instructed how to act in case of a poruta [bungling]. I noticed that, before they left the cab, they distributed among themselves some strange things whose names I did not know.

When they left, I was alone in my cab. I was thinking scary and worrisome things. I was afraid to move. Time dragged on endlessly. Hours passed and they hadn't come back. I listened for the faintest of sounds and finally heard running steps. The silhouettes of my passengers appeared in the fading night. They carried a rather large suitcase.

They jumped into the cab and ordered me to drive like a bat out of hell. They did not need to repeat this twice - I wanted to leave the spot where I had experienced so much fear and uncertainty right away. I did not spare the whip on my boss's pair of well-rested horses, who leaped forward. In no time at all we were far from the 'job.' The horses slowed down. Now I could listen to the conversation behind me. I had no doubts about the kind of 'work' they had just done. They openly made 'professional' comments. Still, the most convincing evidence was the present I got in the form of a silver watch on a gold chain. To relax my nerves I was also given vodka and a piece of sausage.

I went on several such expeditions at the request of my boss, and they all ended well. Each time I was paid in money and given small items of value. But I have to admit that I did not retain much from this easy gain. Most of the time I lost everything on cards in the underworld bars where I went more and more often with my new pals. I did not care about my losses because I knew that in a few days I would 'make money' again. I was pleased that I was trusted and admitted into the thieves' hideaways.

This first close contact with a world whose representatives I had briefly encountered before inside prison walls made a great impression on me. The world attracted me with its mystery. I liked the carefree life of people who did not think about tomorrow.

I'm not sure how it happened, but one day I told my boss I wasn't going to work for him any more. He wasn't surprised at all because he had figured out my intentions. But since I had exceeded his expectations and brought him a good profit, he tried to bargain with me. He promised to give me a rise [sic: raise - Ed.]. Then he started explaining that, if I wanted to be a thief, I should at least have a job 'for appearances' sake,' so that the police would not bother me. Because as soon as the hinty [police] find out that someone kinderuje [steals] professionally, they won't leave him alone and will follow his every step. They will constantly demand mone [money], and the thief will end up working all the time just to pay them off.

'I went through this myself,' he said pensively. 'I was in kicz [prison] twice when I was young. But after that God let me "earn" a nice sum of money. I got married and became a cab driver. At first the hinty tried to harass me, but when they saw I was a working man, which gave me a pretence of the legitimate life, they left me alone. Now, as you know, I'm making more than before. Listen to me and you will be well off. Stay with me "for appearances," and you can make money on the side without attracting attention. I know that Cwajnos [Twonose] has talked you into becoming his konik [lit. 'horsey,' thief's apprentice]. His sister has been after you for some time as well. So it's because of them that you want to leave. But I'm telling you as a Jew, you won't be at large for long. If you join his gang you will perish soon because the hinty know him all too well.'

All his urging did not change my mind. As my boss rightly guessed, a conversation with Cwajnos aided my decision. This is what I learned from him. 'You take unnecessary risks,' he said. 'Your boss takes the same share without even leaving his house. He is also a fence and gets rich on thieves' blood, but you get pennies. You say nothing and that's why they consider you a good guy. For that reason your boss won't let you go that easy. He knows he can rely on you when he sends you on all these trips. But don't be a fool, you're worth more than that. You can be a good jeke; [Nachalnik's note: Jeke, a term for an international thief but not one of the highest rank; something like zlodziejaszek (petty thief)] you have everything it takes. All you need is to get into the right hands. You know, in our trade one needs physical strength, cold blood, and tight lips. I have noticed that you have all these qualities, and that's why I like you. I've decided to take you in.' He also let me know that his sister took an interest in me as well.

In the light of such arguments, how could I remain a cab driver? I must admit that it was less the desire to become Cwajnos's companion that attracted me, than his sister's charming dark eyes. They were the main reason I left my old job.

The friendship with Cwajnos and his pals was formalized the same day at his place. According to the rules, several bottles of schnapps were emptied along with some snacks to seal the Bruderschaft. I also moved under the tender protection of Cwajnos's sister, and I must say I thought I was in paradise.

I need to say a few words here about the noble company in which I found myself. Cwajnos, so-called by his companions and also his nickname in the police records, was a professional burglar of about 30 years of age. He lived with his mother and two sisters, one of whom was a quite successful kontrolna [registered prostitute]. In other words she was an oficerska [officer's girl] and would not go with anyone from the street. The army was stationed in the town, so her business ran smoothly.

My participation in the initiation party was rather passive, and limited to a few glasses of vodka. I was preoccupied with my Hanka. My honeymoon with her was rather sweet. Hanka was still an apprentice and not as licentious as her sister. She confessed to me that she had once had a fiancé who had seduced her and she had made a pledge to stay away from men. But, as she said, she liked me so much that she decided to try once more. If she felt that I deserved her heart, she would really love me and I would be the only man whom she would trust. [...]

*

The booty was unexpectedly large. The next day we sold all the jewellery and the more valuable things to a jeweller, who also readily fenced them. We took the rest of the silver, a substantial amount, to another less wealthy fence. He was an elderly Jew. He examined everything piece by piece, looking at us askance again and again. He mumbled something under his breath and shook his beard with sadness as if to say, 'I expected something more valuable from you; you can just take it back!'

After he had looked through everything, he turned to Cwajnos, whom he knew well, and from whom he had bought similar stuff many times before. With a baffled expression on his face he asked, 'How much do you want for this junk?' He pointed his finger contemptuously at the things on the floor.

'What junk?' answered Cwajnos, as if surprised. 'Everything is brand new, never used, and straight from the factory. It's not junk!' He twisted his face into something like a smile.

'What? Are you crazy?' protested the fence. 'I have to melt this. I can't keep it like this and I don't want to go to gaol [jail in British English - Ed.]. For me this is junk and nothing more.'

'Okay, buddy! Don't be so nervous,' said Cwajnos soothingly. 'Tell us what you can really pay.'

'Five roubles a pound,' answered the fence firmly. 'For me this is not worth any more.' And he looked at me suspiciously because he had never seen me before.

Cwajnos pondered for a moment and said, 'Give me 10 roubles a pound and we have a deal.' And he added softly, 'You know I don't like bargaining.'

'What? Ten roubles a pound? Are you sick or what? You can take it away.' The fence was jumping up and down crazily on his seat waving his hands. After a moment he said, 'As I am a Jew,' and he pounded his chest, 'I can't pay you more than 6 roubles. Or you can go to Jankiel with this, he has more money.'

Cwajnos thought for a moment and said to me, 'Pack it up. We're going to Jankiel. He will give us more.'

I witnessed bargaining for the first time in my life. Until then I was never present when the loot was sold to a fence. I realized that a thief steals for a fence. I wanted to act on Cwajnos's command, but the fence leaped towards me and pushed me so hard that I landed against the wall.

'What a half-wit you brought with you!' he yelled at Cwajnos. 'He doesn't even know that a fence may bargain, but he never lets the szoria [loot] leave his house even if he has to put all his money into it. I will give you 7 roubles a pound. You know that this is junk I have to melt. Okay?' And he extended his hand to my partner, who smiled slyly.

I wanted to get even with the fence for pushing me and calling me a half-wit. I saw that my partner was ready to take the offer, so I went to the kitchen and took a cleaver from the wall. Without saying a word to Cwajnos and the fence, who watched me with surprise, I approached the pile of silver. I picked up a chalice and raised the cleaver. I was about to strike and crush the chalice. The fence turned pale. He jumped at me and grabbed my hand.

'Nu! What are you doing, crazy?'

'I'm making it junk! If you pay 7 roubles for a pound of junk, I will give you junk!' And I pushed him away, ready to destroy the silver.

Now the fence looked me straight in the eye. He turned to my partner, who was laughing aloud. 'Why the hell did you bring him here? He's nuts, stop him!' My partner was amused and started teasing him.

'Well, you bumped into quite a lad! I'm out of it now - he's selling.'

The fence calmly turned to me. 'Drop it. I will pay 9 roubles, but you must always bring things to me. I like you. I will take it all, as is, the whole thing.'

'Twelve roubles a pound. If not, I'm crushing it.'

The fence moaned and fell back on a chair. 'What a thief!' he cried, looking at Cwajnos accusingly. 'If you bring him here ever again I will throw you out along with him. I won't buy anything from you any more.'

'So,' I asked, indifferent to threats, 'should I crush it?'

'No, no! Go to hell! I will give you twelve, but don't come to me any more, you two,' he cried to Cwajnos.

The deal was done. There was 30 pounds of silver. My partner looked at me with awe.

From that day on, fences hated me. They said, 'This litvak is too smart, he won't leave a fence alive!' [Litvaks (Lithuanian Jews) were noted, among other things, for their intellectual (i.e. talmudic) acuity] Cwajnos entrusted me to do all our dealings with them. The fences tried to bribe me and wanted to give me a share behind my partners' backs, but this didn't work. From that day on Cwajnos respected me. I got an equal dola [share]. He did not cheat on me as before. He often praised me in front of the others while drinking vodka. He would point to me saying, 'Look at my apprentice. Not so long ago he was a cab driver, and now he is a fully fledged jeke. He'll grow to be a great urke.' [Urke, a prominent international thief (Nachalnik's note)].

His words 'During a war it's easier to steal' proved true. [After the First World War began] we had 'jobs' almost every day, all making a good profit. It seemed as if the Russian police only arrested those thieves who did not know how to steal or had no skill and just botched jobs. Once I was there during a burglary of a shoe shop. We were busy emptying shelves and boxes when suddenly someone opened the door and said, 'Ladno, ladno, rebyata! Mozhete dal'she rabotat' tol'ko na zavtra nuzhno mne piat'desyat'rublei, nu i paru sapog' ['All right, you lads! You can carry on, but tomorrow I need 50 roubles and a pair of shoes']. And the door closed quietly. I was scared and asked my partner what it meant. He calmed me down. 'Keep working,' he said. 'That was the patrolman from this quarter. He's on our payroll and blatny [takes bribes]. He just let us know that he knows who is here and who is doing the job. He'll get his share tomorrow.'

Thus we stole boldly left and right. The police got their dola; this gave us courage. Cwajnos always knew how to approach an officer. If someone was too shy to take cash openly, he was sent gifts to his home. Of course, Cwajnos did not buy these gifts. To others we sent a pretty woman. If somebody was still stubborn, Cwajnos tried playing cards to lose some money to them. A certain Al---ov was such a lucky player.

Once it happened that a member of our gang was caught red-handed. He was taken to gaol and the prospect of at least four years loomed. It seemed that this time everything was lost and nothing could be done. A new investigating officer took over the district. He did not take blat and vigorously pushed the case to catch the accomplices as well. But something was found on him too - he had a weak point. This seemingly stern and incorruptible man was a sexual deviant. We managed to get our hands on him in such a way that he was afraid of scandal and accepted the conditions dictated to him. He had to dance our way, and our partner was released. [...]

*

One day I went to the town of G. on the German border along with Stasiek. We were taken there by a Jew. We arrived at his house early in the evening, around ten o'clock. As a prosperous cattle merchant he lived quite well. He had spent a year in prison because of some szmuk [jewellery] and I had met him in gaol. Now when he ran into me he mentioned a job concerning a loan shark. He wanted us to help him get even, as he put it. This was the same fellow who had testified against him and thus sent him to gaol.

We spent the night at his place and didn't show our faces to a soul for the whole of the next day, except in the evening, when we went to see the town. The merchant pointed out the loan shark's house. We were to steal a pair of horses, taking off immediately after. With just a bit of extra effort the job came off well. We hit the road with a wagon harnessed to a pair of pretty chestnuts.

Next morning at eleven we showed up at a fence 9 miles away from the site of the job. The fence looked over the horses and harness, and shook his head. 'I can take the goods from you, but you won't get the money until Sunday. I will be in Lomza and I'll pay you there.'

'Why Sunday?' I asked him.

'Because, sweetheart, judging from the harness, I think these are Jewish horses.'

'So what if they're Jewish?' I tried to ask.

The fence looked outraged and responded in Yiddish, 'Nu, this wouldn't surprise me from a goy, but from you? I'm amazed!'

'I don't understand,' I said.

The fence looked at me in disbelief and asked, 'How long have you been a horse thief?'

'Never, this is a one-time deal.'

'That's different, then. So I'm telling you, no honest fence would take horses stolen from Jews - even for free. Now peasant horses are a different story. Bring me as many as you find and I'll always buy them.'

With this explanation and despite our solemn assurances that the horses came from goyim, the fence wouldn't give us the money. We drank a bottle of Passover vodka together and, after agreeing on the final amount, his farmhand took us in his carriage to Lomza.

On Sunday I went to the inn where we were to meet; he paid the agreed sum with brand-new 100 rouble notes, without a word, and told me to bring him more horses like these - that he would always buy them. Privately I thought that I finally had the fence, because the horses were indeed Jewish. I was surprised that in the four days he hadn't discovered it.

Perhaps two weeks passed. One day a fence nicknamed Gold Tooth met me on the street. 'That you, Nachalnik? I've been all over town looking for you. Come with me.'

'Where to?' I tried to ask, sensing his excitement.

'Oh, just hurry up, we're going to Jechon, you'll find out there.'

We went to Jechon, where the fences always gathered. At once I spotted the fence who had bought the Jewish horses from us. Upon my entrance, he jumped on me immediately. 'You damned sheygets [gentile scamp], those horses were Jewish. What are you going do about it now?'

'What will I do?' I asked ironically. 'The Jew bought himself two more.'

'Don't try to kid with me,' he threatened. 'Sit down. We have to talk.'

I noticed that one of the men in the room, whom I didn't know, locked the door. It's a dintojra [thieves' court], I thought.

'If you keep going on like this, no good will come of it. A fence must be told honestly where loot comes from so he knows where he can sell it. Did you know those horses were Jewish?'

'It was the first time I had ever been in that town, I took the job blind; how could I tell if the horses were Jewish or not? They didn't speak Yiddish or Polish when I let them out of the stable,' I joked.

The fences looked at each other, and one with a goatee shouted, 'Don't be such a fetniak [smart-arse]. If you don't watch it, we will stop your know-all antics.'

Completely unafraid, I looked at him provocatively. Who knows what would have happened next if the fence who had bought the Jewish horses had not suddenly taken my side? 'Listen, Schmerke, don't threaten him. He's a good urke and well known among our people. We can deal with this in a peaceful way. He knows the thieves' law better than you.' And he turned to me.

'You sold me horses, and what about the szmuk you stole? Who did you sell it to?' He jokingly threatened me with his finger.

'I didn't know you take Jewish jewellery,' I answered.

'Why not?' he cried, 'Me not buy szmuk? Such a deal! So what are we going to do now?'

'Where are your sidekicks? Maybe we should call them in too?' asked one of the judges.

'That's not necessary,' I said. 'They accept whatever I do.'

'Listen then, I'm telling you what happened,' said the fence. 'I kept the horses until Sunday, and I heard nothing. I came across a buyer by chance and sold them to Germany for 2,400 roubles. Just three days ago, in the early evening, I went to the synagogue and what do I see? A Jew I don't know standing in a circle telling all the Jews about a rich moneylender living in his house who's been robbed. At the time he was robbed, his horses were his sole possession. These Jews told him to turn to me, and my conscience moved me. I took him to the rebbe and returned the value of the horses to him. I told him to swear not to reveal who paid him - otherwise the moneylender would come to me for his jewellery, which I knew nothing about. My 2,000 roubles all went to hell,' he finished, his voice full of sadness.

'Who told you to confess, if nobody else knew anything about it?'

'Do you think my conscience would let me take Jewish horses just for money? Up until now, praise God, during my twenty-five years as a fence, I've never had anything like that on my conscience and I never want to!'

Everyone present smiled at this reasoning. He was a well-known fence and a rich horse-trader. He owned some 200 houses in town. Also, in Russian times he had served in a penal unit in the army for five years. It is worth mentioning why he was there - I've heard it from him personally.

He had a feud with the chief of the Russian secret police because he gave too little in bribes, so they decided to investigate him. The chief himself ran the investigation. But it was impossible to catch the horse-trader red-handed. Whole gangs of Gypsies brought him their spoils and he sold everything to Germany, getting richer and richer. Once a pair of highly valued racehorses was stolen from a local nobleman. The word was that the chief of police found them in the horse-trader's stable. He always kept a hundred or more horses there. The chief of police asked for the horses' certificate. The horse-dealer answered that he could not produce it until the next morning because his son, who had the certificate, was away. The chief detained the horses until morning. In the morning the horse-trader reported with the certificate. They went to the stable to check the description against the horses, but the horses were gone, though all the locks and bars were in place. The police had to pay him for the horses! But they swore revenge upon him. For half a year the chief roamed the local horse markets in disguise. One day, dressed as a Gypsy, he caught the horse-trader receiving horses from Gypsies and arrested him on the spot. So he had many different things on his conscience that didn't disturb him at all; yet he considered stealing Jewish horses a sin.

After long deliberations, during which some three geese were consumed along with a few bottles of vodka naturally the bill was on me. It was decided that Stasiek and I were to provide a pair of good horses within a week, for which we were to receive no payment. I agreed, knowing that provoking a fight wasn't clever. Later when I told Stasiek everything, he agreed with me at once, saying that from the beginning he knew this would happen because fences never bought Jewish horses.

Original article: Copyright © Littman Publishing  

This article was first published in Polin: Studies in Polish Jewry, Volume 16: Jewish Popular Culture and its Afterlife, edited by Michael C. Steinlauf and Antony Polonsky, published in 2003 by the Littman Library of Jewish Civilization on behalf of the Institute for Polish-Jewish Studies and the American Association for Polish-Jewish Studies

Edited by: Donna Even-Kesef, Amnon Even-Kesef and Jose Gutstein.