Thoughts about Federalism.

In the late 1960s, shortly after I arrived in Washington and started by job at HUD, I was asked to chaperone a group of foreign journalists spending several days in Washington (as part of a broader US tour) to learn about US domestic policy. How or why I was asked to do this, I cannot remember, but it was a very interesting assignment, as I was as anxious to learn about the journalists’ homes, as they were to find out about America. I cannot even remember where they were all from, except that I remember having lengthy conversations with a reporter from Japan and one from Hungary (rare in those days for someone from behind the Iron Curtain to have an opportunity like this).

We attended a number of meetings and took a number of tours around Washington. The group was able to absorb most of what they were shown and told, I believe, with one notable exception. They could not get their arms around the American concept of “federalism”.

Most came from countries which had the equivalent of states or provinces – but these were all administrative entities, designed to make the governing of the country work a bit more smoothly. All of the officials of these provincial governments were bound by the policies of the national leaders. They were truly, for the most part, administrators.

They quickly realized that this was not the case in the United States, that here the states had a much more prominent and independent role. They learned that we were not a top-down country, where all power settled at the national level, but a bottom-up country, where power began at the state level, and that the federal or national authority was limited to that specifically provided by the Constitution, and that, according to the Tenth Amendment of the Constitution:

“The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.”

This was a radical concept to the visiting journalists. They could not understand how it could work.

They were not alone.

The issue of states’ rights vs. federal authority has long bedeviled this country. The balance has been difficult to maintain. On specific issues, and in general, Americans have found themselves at odds as to where particular powers lie. The Supreme Court, the arbiter of Constitutional authority, has ruled in contradictory manners on various issues, depending on the time, and of course on the Court’s personnel.

In the current political climate, questions about the limitations of federal power have arisen again and again. In the area of health care. In the area of education. In the matter of workers’ rights. In the question of immigration control.

Some areas, like national security, seem clear. But in most areas, clarity is lacking. The Constitution does provide that the federal government has the authority to regulate interstate commerce, and the breadth of the definition of interstate commerce has been one of the most contentious issues of Constitutional law, with the court tending historically to treat the phrase very broadly.

In my ideal constitutional revision, the tenth amendment would be drastically changed or eliminated, and other changes would be made to limit the rights of states to set out on their own. Of course, there is potentially some danger here, but the dangers of over concentration of authority can be handled in other ways within a revised document.

We talk a lot about a “global world”, where American policy and prosperity is more and more dependent on what happens elsewhere, on things well beyond our control. But we seem to talk less and less about a “national country”, where again specific issues cannot be dealt with differently on a state by state basis if the United States is to be able to grow and compete.

People move from state to state, often living in two or more states, or commuting. Or they live in a metropolitan area which encompasses more than one state. Business, no matter where they are incorporated or formed, work nationally, often having physical locations in many more than one state. What is the justification for saying that crucial state laws involving these individuals and businesses can differ?

We have no national industrial policy. We have no national health system. We have no national manufacturing policy. We have no national immigration policy. We have no national education policy.

Of course, we have federal laws that touch on all of those issues. But “touch” is a good word – for all of the federal laws have to be sensitive to the Constitutional limitations, and all federal laws are subject to Constitutional challenge, and too often federal laws become an instigator of conflict between those who claim that federal government is being too intrusive, and those who think there should be a stronger federal presence.

There are times, such as the days prior to the enactment of civil rights legislation, that states’ rights led to some very dangerous and unfortunate situations. People seem to often forget this when arguing for more civil rights today. On the other hand, the proponents of a stronger federal government often use slight of hand to increase federal controls – an example being the withholding of highway funds from states unwilling to meet certain federal standards for speed limits. And of course, even those who would say that they are on the side of the states, have their exceptions when it comes to federal control: many of them think there should be federal laws against abortion, for example.

The conflict between state and federal rights is obviously very complex. But, as the world gets more global, it seems to me that the concept that the country should devolve more of these decisions to the
50 states is anachronistic and, in the short run and the long run, will not work.

But this is the way it is, and it is not going to change. So we will see.

Potpourri #6 for 2012 (11 cents)

1. Perhaps this week’s highlight was the Tuesday Mardi Gras noon time concert at Epiphany Church – a four man Dixieland combo that goes by the name of Mike Flaherty and the Dixieland Direct. A piano, a bass, drums and one clarinetist/soprano saxophonist. If I had any complaints, it was in the composition of the group – to me Dixieland needs a number of wind instruments, certainly a trombone and a coronet to join the clarinet and sax. But that’s a small point considering the musicality of the four gentlemen in this group. A particular shout out to Bob Boguslaw, master pianist, a classical and jazz as well as Dixieland performer. What’s more, I just learned that this group is playing every Sunday night at the Zoo Bar, a rather nondescript looking place on Connecticut Avenue, across from the National Zoo. Never thought about going there – now I am thinking about it. (As an aside, why isn’t there more Dixieland music played today? Growing up in St. Louis, it was everywhere, not only at a number of establishments on the riverfront and, while it was operating, in Gaslight Square, and a group called (I believe) Sammy Gardner and the Mound City Six had their own Sunday evening TV show on channel 5.)

2. Three books read. First, there seems to be a lot being published now on the history of the Cold War. For no particular reason, I chose Col. John Hughes-Wilson’s “A Brief History of the Cold War”, part of an
English history series. It provided an excellent reminder of what went on, although the author’s complete right wing bias did get in the way a bit. Then, I read a novel, Dennis McFarland’s “School for the Blind”, again for no particular reason. Not much in the book that was of particular interest to me, although it moves along nicely – again photographer returns to his Florida Panhandle home town, where his unmarried sister still lives; they find human bones on a local golf course; and they get entrapped in some mysterious goings on. If this is your cup of tea, go for it. Finally, I read NPR host Noah Adam’s “Piano Lessons”, his diary of his year learning to play the piano – you see how he bought an $11,000 Steinway thinking it might be nice to learn to play, how he went about practicing and learning, how the rest of his life went along and, perhaps most important, what he learned about the piano, about music, and about musicians. Written in a relaxing style, similar to his interviewing technique, the book was a very pleasant diversion.

3. Saw the acclaimed film, “The Artist” – silent and colorless. Heard so many things about it. Expected to enjoy it more than I did. Thought it was well done, the evocation of the 1920s and early 1930s extremely accomplished, the non-verbal acting good, but the plot pretty trite and not very interesting.

Rewriting History – when is it OK?

Theater J is about to reprise its hit show of two years ago, “New Jerusalem”, a very interesting and enjoyable play about the excommunication of Baruch Spinoza by the Jewish community of 17th century Amsterdam. Spinoza was born to Portuguese Jews, forced to hide their religion in their home country, but able to embrace it in Holland. His intellect led him to break from the traditional Jewish community in an unheard of manner, by expressing highly individual views on the relationship between God and the world. Today viewed as a precursor of the European enlightenment and even of the concept of separation of church and state, then he was cast aside by his community and forced to live a very lonely life.

“New Jerusalem” is the story of the Spinoza excommunication trial and the events leading up to it. Unfortunately, it is quite unhistorical – the trial, as it existed, was a closed affair, with even Spinoza himself not in attendance. In the play (at least as it existed two years ago), Spinoza is there, as is his sister, and a member of the gentile community who testifies or presents at length. In addition, Spinoza’s relationship with a non-Jewish woman is described quite differently than that relationship is documented by historians.

None of this makes the play less interesting or enjoyable to watch, but to the extent it gives the audience the understanding that they have witnessed an accurate portrayal of history, there is a problem.

I don’t mean to pick on “New Jerusalem”, however. This is a normal, rather than an abnormal occurrence in theater. In the recent production of “Parade” earlier this year, for example, the story of the conviction and execution of Leo Frank for a murder he did not commit, also took a great deal of liberty with the facts.

And it certainly is not a phenomenon limited to theater. Think of the movies. Think of the Oliver Stone films on Nixon or Kennedy. Or think of the recent Frost/Nixon film, where a central feature was a late night phone conversation that never occurred. Or “Moneyball”, where those involved said: it’s not quite the way it happened. Or Mark Zuckerberg’s generous remarks about “The Social Network”, where he criticized the historicity of the film, but said that he didn’t mind that – it’s just a movie, after all.

Well, all of this is preface to a book that I just read, and enjoyed a lot, J.M. Coetzee’s “The Master of Petersburg”, a novel by the South African/Australian author, published in 1994.

Now this book is an avowed “novel”, not meant to be history. The literary world is full, of course, of historical novels – where the author takes a historical situation, and does a little extrapolation to fictionalize a true story, without attempting to distort the history. This is done by introducing some fictional characters, making up some dialogue that might have been said by historical characters, and winding up with a reader-friendly way to talk about an historical event.

This is not what happens in “The Master of Petersburg”. The central character of this novel is Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky, renown author of “Crime and Punishment” and “The Brothers Karamzov”. Living in voluntary exile (to escape creditors) in Dresden with his second wife and young child, he returns (using a fake identity) to St. Petersburg to collect the few possessions of his 22 year old stepson (child of his first wife, who has died), who – the story goes – has committed suicide. He is devastated by his death; he was very close with the young man. He learns that the authorities are not so sure it is suicide and that his stepson’s possessions have been for the time confiscated. He falls for his stepson’s landlady, leading to obvious complications and confusion. He learns that his stepson has been involved with a notorious underground revolutionary movement, and that the authorities’ suspicions may not be groundless. It’s a very well written book.

The problem? None of this ever happened. Dostoevsky did have a stepson, son of his first wife, with whom he was apparently close. But his stepson did not die at age 22 in St. Petersburg – he lived a full life, surviving his stepfather. The entire premise of the story is false. (Well, false may not be the right word – there was a young 23 year old who died in an accident, and whose father was devastated by the death. But the father’s name was not Fyodor Dostoevsky – it was J.M. Coetzee. Coetzee wrote this book after his son’s death, transferring his grief to one of his literary idols.)

Reading the book (including the book descriptions on the dust jacket), you would not know that young Pavel did not die this mysterious death. You would think you are reading an historical novel – taking the facts, and extrapolating, but not distorting history.

Is any of this important? Somehow, I think it is. Recording history is a crucial (and difficult) societal activity – recording false history is dangerous. (If you want to see false history being created, and how dangerous it is, just follow the Republican presidential candidate campaign.)

Some years ago, the Washington area was under siege by the “Washington sniper”. Word got out that the sniper was driving an unmarked white, panel truck, of which there must be thousands in this area alone. It turned out that he was driving a souped up Chrysler (I think it was red), but the damage had been done. Even today, I shudder a little when I see an unmarked white panel truck and am very wary of its driver. Distorted history, even when you know it is distorted, sticks.
Coetzee’s distortions may not be important in the long run. Nor is the false representation of the Spinoza excommunication trial. But they are indicative – and they need to be accompanied by sufficient explanatory material to ensure that they are taken for what they are, and not as mirrors of what they seem to be representing.

George, Mary, Emma, Alta, Resten and Bernarda Alba (51 cents)

It’s hard for me to know what to write about Forum’s new offering, Julia Cho’s “The Language Archive”. Not that I can’t commend the production – I think the play is very well performed and directed. But I think the play itself is far from perfect and, looking at reviews that have been posted when the play was offered in New York and California, I find that most reviewers agree with me.

The play is billed as a comedy and, while it has its comedic moments, it is a very sad play. Not at all what I would consider a comedy.

The subject is communication. George’s profession is the study of dying languages, finding the last speakers of tongues heading towards extinction, and getting them to record their conversations for later study. He himself speaks a number of living languages, and is a student of Esperanto, an artificial language developed in the late 19th century by L.L. Zamenhof, designed to become an international language.

Zamenhof (who actually is a character in the play, totally out of time and place), was both an ophthalmologist and a linguist. He grew up in Bialystok, then in Russia, now in Poland, then in Russia, and Kaunas, in Lithuania. In this atmosphere, people spoke Polish, Russian, German, Lithuanian and Yiddish, and they still could not communicate with the French, the English or the Italian. Zamenhof’s answer was to develop Esperanto, a simple language based on common roots and grammatical constructs.

Of course, Esperanto never lived up to the hopes of Zamenhof and his friends, although still today it has its adherents.

Yet, whether you are speaking a dying language, a living language like English, or Esperanto, how you speak and what you say is limited by your own psychology. And George had his problems communicating in any language.

Thus, his wife Mary (whose own communication skills are at least as bad as her husbands) decides she is going to leave him, and tells him that she is leaving because they could never communicate. Nothing could be more devastating to someone whose whole life is language. And he must balance his domestic distraught with his job of recording and saving languages, when faced with a bizarre elderly married couple, Resten and Alta, from somewhere in what appears to be the Balkans, and who spat and curse in English, because it is impossible to do so in Ellowan.

With his marriage beyond the rocks, George’s long time assistant Emma, thinks that maybe she has the opportunity to win his love. Unfortunately, she too cannot communicate, either in English or in the Esperanto that she is studying on the side.

So, what will happen to George, Mary, Emma and to Resten and Alta? Will there be a happy ending for any or for all? For that you must see the show, which opened this weekend.

You may recall that we saw Garcia Lorca’s ‘Blood Wedding’ a few weeks ago. Last night, we attended a reading of another of Garcia’s Lorca’s plays, ‘The House of Bernarda Alba’, at Constellation Theatre. It’s a short play – three acts, but only about an hour long, and has its similarities to ‘Blood Wedding’. Rural Spain, isolated and behind the times, with lives controlled by social patterns and expectations guaranteed to lead to frustration and tragedy. Bernarda Alba’s second husband has just died; she has five daughters, one by her first husband and four by her second. They range in age from 20 to 39. None is married, and now they are entering an eight year period of mourning. But a handsome young man, age 25, has made his presence known and Bernarda has agreed with him that he can marry her oldest daughter, without knowing that he has had his eyes (and in fact more than his eyes) on the youngest daughter. Tragedy follows – and the world must never know.

The Kinsey Sicks and “Electile Dysfunction”

OK, watching male performers in drag making off color jokes is not typically my idea of a good time, but we had seen San Francisco based a capella quartet, The Kinsey Sicks, before, and I found them to be four extraordinary talented fellows (girls), and remarkably clever to boot. So, when I learned they were returning to Theater J, this time with a political review, I wanted to make sure to go.

Rachel, Trixie, Winnie and Trampolina are running for president on the Republican ticket (you didn’t know?), but not as individuals. They are running as The Kinsey Sicks, LLC, now that corporations are persons, and persons can run for president.

(OK, we can examine that a bit – let’s assume that corporations are persons and therefore can become president. They would have to have three characteristics – native born, a real corporation, and at least 35 years old. Assuming that The Kinsey Sicks, LLC is a creature of one of these United States, two questions remain. First, is an LLC – or a limited liability company – a corporation? This is unclear – and to my knowledge, neither the Supreme Court nor Mitt Romney has declared LLCs to be persons. Secondly, I doubt this particular LLC is 35 years old.)

But, to quote a line from the show, “I digress.”

They are running to be the first corporate president of the country (and they are hinting that they might offer the vice presidency to Halliburton, based on Halliburton’s previous experience with this job).

Now, they have a lot of good ideas. And there is a lot of clever punning. And I would love to tell you some of their good ideas, or give you an example of their better puns or word plays, but…….

I can’t remember any of them. You have to go see the show.

It is a musical – the tunes are familiar ones, some are reprises of what they have done in earlier shows, I assume with some lyric changes. And they are good – I think Rachel writes most of the work, Winnie is able to be both a background base and a foreground soprano, Trixie can belt it with the best of them, and Trampolina is very special. There’s some audience involvement (stay out of the first row, if you don’t want to be called on to ask a question at the rally), and don’t take an aisle seat if you don’t want to chance a performer on your lap, or – worse – being called up to the stage to become the centerpiece of the last number of the show.

Now, it’s not all politics – there is their usual arguing amongst themselves, and a fair number of lines you would not want your kids to hear. But it’s all in fun, and there even is a moral near the end, with a beautiful rendition of “Heaven, I’m in Heaven”, where all religions finally get together in piece, dancing “Sikh to shiek”.

They play one more week in Washington and then they hit the road, I assume picking up steam as the convention and then the election draws near. (Their performance schedule, posted on their website, takes them well past the Republican convention date, so I assume they think they have a lock on the nomination – who knows? you don’t think that Romney or Santorum can be nominated, do you?). If I were you and you have the freedom, I would catch their Tampa performance – one night only, three days before the convention begins. I may even go down there myself.

Any other downsides? Yes, one. As funny and clever as they are……….they just can’t compete with the real campaign. Even they couldn’t come up with an aspirin between the knees routine.

My name is Arthur, and I approve of this message.

Jamaica and the Jews

The first Europeans to land on Jamaica were the members of the crew of Christopher Columbus’ second voyage to the New World. The year was 1494 and the Europeans included Spanish Jews (such as Luis de Torres), recently expelled from their homeland or forced to give up their religion. (Whether Columbus himself was of Jewish ancestry is another question, too complicated for this posting.) The 1494 visit was brief, but Columbus returned to the island on his fourth visit to the New World, in 1503, and remained there for a year or more.

Jamaica became a Spanish possession, as did other Caribbean islands, but uniquely, and after the death of Columbus, the island was granted to his son Diego Colon, who – in order to keep his title certain – provided for the establishment of a permanent colony in the the north of Jamaica, called New Seville.

Diego’s heir was his son and then his daughter, who had married into a noble Portuguese family. After the expulsion of the Spanish Jews in 1492, a significant number of them had migrated to Portugal, where they were first welcomed but within five years (due primarily to a pending marriage between the Spanish and Portuguese royal families) were all automatically converted to Catholicism. As in Spain, many “New Christians” (as they were called) remained underground Jews, and it appears that some of them asked the now Spanish-Portuguese Colon family for permission to live on Jamaica. Permission was granted, and these “Portugals”, some of whom were quite affluent, as early as 1530, ventured to the New World and Jamaica. While they were welcomed by the Colon family’s administrators, they were told to keep their beliefs hidden, which they apparently did. In return, the Colon family apparently assured that the Inquisition would not make its way to Jamaica (the Inquisition concentrating on New Christians who backslided into Judaic habits), making Jamaica unique in this regard in the Spanish world.

Thus started the saga of a Jewish presence in Jamaica, which continues to this day.

For the next 150 years, Jamaica remained Spanish. During this time, many Portuguese New Christians had migrated to the Netherlands, where they were allowed to rediscover their Jewish identities, and during the mid-1600s, Jews were finally allowed to return to England, from which they had been expelled in 1290.

At the same time, increasing tensions between Spain and England (in the New World as well as the Old) led to the English invasion and takeover of Jamaica in 1655, the devastation of the capital (now called Spanish Town) and the establishment of the first capital of English Jamaica at Port Royal. The underground Jewish community of Jamaica welcomed the English, as they were allowed to become visible, build synagogues and cemeteries, and practice their religion openly, in Spanish Town, Port Royal and elsewhere.

While Spanish Town is located inland (with river access to the sea), Port Royal was located on the edge of a long spit of land now forming the southern side of Kingston Harbor, on the south side of the island. Port Royal’s prominence was a relatively short one, as a massive earthquake destroyed the city in 1690 (much of it, with the exception of the military installation at Fort Charles, is even today under water), and Spanish Town again became the capital of Jamaica, a position it retained until the 1870s, when the capital was moved to the city of Kingston, on the southern coast. Kingston, with close to 1 million inhabitants, remains Jamaica’s capital and major city today.

Our tour visited Ft. Charles, the only remaining relic of 17th century Port Royal, but we arrived late and missed it. We did, however, get to visit the old Jewish cemetery at Hunts Bay, which served the 17th century Port Royal Community. A little known spot, it could easily be considered one of the [Pick a Number] Wonders of the Old Jewish World.

As Port Royal was built at the entrance to the harbor on the narrowest of peninsulas (actually, at the time, I believe it may have been a small island, not connected by the lengthy causeway that today leads to the Kingston airport and eventually the city, and wraps around the harbor (one of the largest natural harbors of the world). There was no place to build a cemetery in Port Royal, so the Jewish community acquired ground for burials north of Port Royal, just north of the harbor, on the mainland. Bodies were transported to the cemetery by boat, across wide Kingston Harbor (of course they call it Kingston Harbour) and brought to the cemetery, along with the mourners.

This part of the north side of the harbor is today an industrial area, part of the Port of Kingston, but in a secluded part of this area, cordoned off from industrial sites, by green vegetation, so that you feel you are worlds away from intensive civilization, lies the Hunts Bay cemetery. There is no sign leading to the cemetery. There is no road leading to the cemetery – you can walk from the narrow road, leading from a commercial main road through a poor residential area filled with wood and corrugated metal shacks, or you can turn your vehicle off this road and hope that the tires last as you drive over a somewhat visible track across an open field. When you arrive at the cemetery, you also see there is no visible security.

In spite of the lack of security, over 350 visible graves remain, many with their markers in tact and legible. The markers are all horizontal marble slabs sitting on raised brick foundations. The inscriptions are primarily in two languages, Portuguese and Hebrew. A few of the markers also have English inscriptions, although these are mainly in the form of decorations (written around the edges of the slabs, as a frame), showing that Portuguese was used as the language of these Jamaican Jews for centuries. Believe it or not, there are clearly marked gravestones that date from the 17th century (the oldest being from 1670), although the cemetery was used well into the 19th century. There are also decorative carvings on most of the stones: everything from a skull and crossbones (this apparently was what you would see then on Christian gravestones as well), pictorial representations of the Tree of Life being cut down in its prime, pictures of angelic faces. Some of the inscriptions are quite lengthy.

We visited one additional Jewish cemetery, in Falmouth, on the north side of the island, not far from Montego Bay, a cemetery also not in use today, but whose tombstones are more recent, extending up until the early 20th century. Here, the majority of the inscriptions are in English – there is relatively little Hebrew and of course no Portuguese. One of the sadder aspects of this cemetery is the abundance of graves of children, many of whom died in one single epidemic, which apparently led to many Falmouth Jews moving out of this city.

While we visited no other grave sites, there are apparently over 20 Jewish cemeteries still existing on Jamaica, and perhaps many more which are no longer visible. Two are still in use, I was told.

We also visited Spanish Town, still the second largest city in Jamaica. Although we saw no visible presence of the Jewish community, we did see the 18th century (I think) buildings at Emancipation Square, some of whom are in use and some protected, but awaiting restoration. A highly recommended, but not often visited site, this large square and its massive buildings, will allow you to feel you are in the colonial Jamaica of several centuries past, a feeling that is hard to replicate elsewhere. I understand that the archeological remains of an early 18th century synagogue have been located, but we did not visit this site. We did drive by a few historic churches, including the oldest Anglican church in the Caribbean.

Apparently, both Port Royal and Spanish Town were the centers of Jamaican trade and commerce, and it was trade and commerce that occupied many of the Jamaican Jews of the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries (fewer were plantation owners or, as they are called in Jamaica, the plantocracy). Thus, Jewish populations were centered in these locations.

The majority of Jamaican resorts, for which the island is undoubtedly best known today, are located on the north side of the island, stretching from Ocho Rios in the east, through St. Ann’s Bay (near where Columbus first landed), Falmouth, Montego Bay (the largest northern community), to Negril in the west. While this area once had a number of Jewish residents in communities such as Falmouth, there are very few Jews living in the north today, and there is no cemetery. (Of course, there are some Jews who have moved to the north coast of Jamaica from the United States and elsewhere to participate in the resort industry.)

We did visit the studio of David Pinto, a Jewish ceramicist, whose studio is on an old estate called Good Hope, not far from Falmouth. A Jamaican native, who studied at the Rhode Island School of Design and spent time learning the trade in Japan, he has five different kilns in operation, including a wood fired kiln that creates a natural glaze on raw clay. A visit to his studio is also interesting because it is located on an evocative old sugar plantation, where several of the buildings are still in place – including the bookkeeper’s office, apparently a requirement at a plantation which shipped its products overseas, and a trading house built in 1790. One of Jamaica’s tourist companies also has its offices at Good Hope, and there is a “great house”, which serves as a hotel and I believe restaurant which we did not have an opportunity to see. We came home with two of Mr. Pinto’s coffee mugs, and had dinner that evening with his parents. His mother is a member of an old Jamaican Jewish family; his father came to Jamaica from England about 50 years ago.

Of course, the center of today’s Jewish presence in Jamaica is in Kingston. The only remaining active synagogue on the island, Shaare Shalom, has about 200 members and a new rabbi, Dana Kaplan, recently arrived from Albany, Georgia. Historically, all of Jamaica’s Jewish communities did not support synagogues. There were synagogues in Port Royal and Spanish Town (which had two synagogues until the beginning of the 2oth century) in the south, in Montego Bay in the north and of course in Kingston.

Although Kingston has only one functioning synagogue today, historically this was not the case. It had at least two functioning synagogues in the 18th century, although not much is known about their location or architecture, it appears. During the 19th century, there were at least six synagogues in Kingston. Because the majority of the Jamaican Jews were descendants of the early settlers of “Portugals”, most followed the Sephardic rites, although there was at least one Ashkenazic synagogue at the time.

In 1882, a large fire destroyed two of the synagogues, and the members of both decided to merge their congregations in order to rebuild. This led to the construction of the Shaare Shalom synagogue, completed in 1888, which at the time had about 2000 members. There were two other synagogues built at about the same time – a replacement Ashkenazic synagogue and (naturally) a Sephardic synagogue for those who did not agree with the post-fire merger. After a few years, these latter two synagogues merged and built a new sanctuary; they adopted the Sephardic rite for all of the services except for the Torah service, which was conducted in Asheknazic form.

Another earthquake struck in 1907, this time in Kingston with extraordinary damage. Again rebuilding was required, and a new Shaare Shalom was built and dedicated in 1913. In 1921, the Ashkenazic synagogue merged to form a united synagogue and again detailed negotiations on the forms of worship followed and, and in addition, general reforms were introduced until the Congregation ceased referring to itself as orthodox and instead became what it is today, a Reform synagogue.

We visited the synagogue of course, first as tourists and then as Friday night congregants. The structure is centrally located in commercial Kingston (it was about 3 miles from our hotel – I know that because I with others walked it Friday night). It is a very attractive building, painted white on the outside, with the sanctuary Sephardic in design, with a reader’s desk separate from the area from which the majority of the service is conducted. The building is very fresh – it is filled with dark wood, probably mahogany, and the floor (like other synagogues in the Caribbean) is covered in a fine white sand. There are 11 Torah scrolls. The center of the synagogue is kept empty – the seats are in several rows along each of the long walls (On high holidays, I think more seats are brought into the center.) There is a balcony that overlooks the sanctuary and that was formerly for women, before the synagogue became egalitarian. The chazan chants from the balcony, where he stands near the congregation’s organ, which was original to the building. (I learned that organs and other musical instruments were not uncommon in western Sephardic synagogues, but they were not permitted in Sephardic congregations of the east, such as Ottomon or North African congregations.)

Next to the synagogue itself stands the community center, where the congregation hosted a kiddush and a supper for us. Inside, there are a number of exhibits on Jamaican Jewry including a significant poster exhibit, entitled “The Jewish Heritage Centre of Jamaica”; we purchased a book that replicates this exhibit.

Viewing historic and contemporary Jewish Jamaica, we learned a lot which we did not know about the history of Jews on this island, and how influential they have been and, even with reduced numbers, remain. We also met a number of Jewish Jamaicans – and found them to be white and black, and typically descended from long time resident families. Names kept reappearing – Henriques, Matalon, Bravo, de Souze, Mendes, Lindo. We learned that untold non-Jewish Jamaicans have Jewish ancestors. We learned that there is no demonstrable anti-Semitism in the country. And time and time again, we were told there was no overt racial prejudice.

We did get a chance to visit some of the residential areas of the city, particularly when we climbed the foothills to the Hillel Academy, pronounced to be the best K-12 private school in Jamaica, established by and maintained with the help of the Kingston Jewish community. This school, which has about 750 students, today only has about 20 Jewish students – but it is still strongly supported by the community. It provides no religious classes at all, but does have a “Stars” club for its Jewish students. It closes on Jewish holidays and clearly recognizes the Jewish commitment to and influence on the country.

Of course, we saw much more of Jamaica than Jewish Jamaica – we saw the National Gallery (which has a wonderful collection of art by Jamaicans, including sculptress Edna Manley, Isaac Mendes Bellisario, and others, as well as artists renditions of Jamaica), Coronation Market (probably the largest food market I have visited, that I was told is about one square mile in area, and is filled with farmer/vendors selling meat, fish, spices, and fruits and vegetables, many of which are unfamiliar to us), Devon House (a beautiful mansion in central Kingston built by a German Jewish gold merchant and his Jamaican wife), Heroes Park (with monuments to Marcus Garvey, Norman Manley and others), Bob Marley’s house (now a museum), the campuses of the University of the West Indies and the University of Technology, the beautiful Strawberry Hill resort and restaurant in the heart of the Blue Mountains, the Craighton Coffee Estate, the Dunns River Falls, and more. We even had dinner at the home of the American Ambassador to Jamaica, Pamela Bridgewater, who was very gracious, and even provided a reggae band for our (and her) entertainment.

We were a traveling group of about 40 people, and our trip was sponsored by American Associates, Ben-Gurion University of the Negev. We were accompanied by two BGU faculty members, Zvi Ha-Cohen, university rector, and Dr.Eli Papo, specialist in Judeo-Spanish culture, as well as several AABGU staff members. We had the opportunity to meet many Jamaicans, including many warm and welcoming Jewish Jamaicans. We stayed in the new and well appointed Spanish Court Hotel in Kingston, and the Iberostar Rose Hill Hotel in Montego Bay. (And oh yes, we did see the beach, even though we didn’t even have time to stick our toes in. Next time.)

And a good time was had by all.

Potpourri #5 for 2012 (two cents)

1. A terrific trumpet/piano concert at Epiphany Church. The trumpeter was Chris Gekker, a faculty member at the University of Maryland. The varied program was filled with short pieces not originally written for trumpet, but arranged for trumpet by Gekker or others. From Bach to Duke Ellington, a beautiful program. If you have a chance to hear Gekker play, I suggest you do so.

2. An excellent version of the rarely performed Garcia-Lorca play, Blood Wedding. Two married men, two married women, a prior relationship which cannot be ignored, rural, tradition bound, tragic pre-Civil War Spain…….It does not end well. Constellation Theatre at the Source on 14th Street. Drawing nice audiences. Recommended.

3. Another run through of a play-in-progress by a local playwright, Gwydion Suilebhan’s “Hot & Cold”. Intriguing question of what is real, when two parallel universes exist in what appears to be the same space. Did I understand it? No. Will you?……..

4. There is a wonderful exhibit at the National Museum of African Art, closing soon, of wood and metal relics and sculpture from the Benue River valley of east-central Nigeria. I can’t begin to understand African art, but this extensive exhibit, along with informative signage and fascinating videos, beautifully displayed on the 3rd level of the museum. Impressive exhibit.

5. We saw the 50 year old cinema version of John Osborne’s “The Entertainer” with Laurence Olivier, Joan Playwright, Alan Bates and Albert Finney. A very well orchestrated film, the story of a middle aged, not very successful or funny vaudeville star, who can’t stop his womanizing and can’t start paying his income taxes. The sad ending is inevitable, but the play ends with a wonderful quote – and I paraphrase: You have been a wonderful audience…..Where are you playing tomorrow? I want to come and see you.

6. Two books. First, I read a book called “By Fate or Faith” that I happened upon – the story of a young Chasidic man trapped in Nazi occupied Poland, the majority of his family killed, surviving through various work camps, eventually getting to Canada where he gets a job as a cantor, a career he maintains in Montreal, Cleveland and finally Atlanta. His story of his experience in Poland during World War II is a tragic and interesting one – the more you read this type of memoir, the more you learn, and the more you see the uniqueness that was each individual’s experience in a situation that was for all such a tragedy.

From this book, which I had never heard of, I went (for reasons unclear to me) to actress Liv Ullmann’s memoir from the late 1970s, “Changing”. It’s not a chronological narrative, but rather reads more like a diary, not necessarily written for public consumption, but nevertheless careful to make sure that no one is libeled, and the most intimate of details are avoided. Ms. Ullmann’s book reads like a honest, and difficult, search for one’s inner essence and core – how to build a stage and screen career, raise a child without a husband, live in Norway and (at the same time) in the rest of the world because of a killer travel/work schedule. But, when you step back, is there anything in Liv Ullmann’s core to really admire? I, for one, am not so sure.

Early Air Pioneers – Lindbergh, Earhart and More – what an extraordinary story

Some years ago, I read Scott Berg’s biography of Charles Lindbergh. It’s a very interesting book, of course, and Lindbergh was a very interesting, and controversial in his later years, individual. But, putting aside his flirtation with Nazi Germany and the kidnapping and murder of his young son, what amazed me about the book (perhaps it should not have) was his activities as a pioneer flyer. Not only his famous solo flight across the Atlantic, amazing as that was, but all of his early aviation activities in light of the danger of flying in those days.

A quick example from that book:

“On March 6, 1925–only eight days before graduation from the Air Service Advanced Flying School–Lindbergh was part of one such maneuver at five thousand feet…The planes collided, locking together. When separating them appeared hopeless, Lindbergh climbed out to the right side of his then vertical cockpit and climbed backward as far from the ship as he could.

“Just three weeks earlier two Brooks Field cadets crashed and burned; and eight months earlier two other planes had collided in midair over Kelly Field, killing one pilot. Lindbergh was fortunate to follow the course of the other, his parachute functioning perfectly. While falling he was able to see McAllister descend safely and the two planes, one hundred yards off to the side, twirl earthward, bursting into flames upon hitting the ground. An hour later, Lindbergh was in the air again.”

Two points: first, that there was so much danger in early flying, and second, that people kept doing it — again and again.

Berg’s book is widely read – it won a Pulitzer Prize, after all. A much less read book is Margaret Thomas Warren’s “Taking Off”, which I also read through some time ago. Warren was a pioneer woman pilot, as a very, very young woman. And she was far from alone – there were many teenage women in the 1920′s who not only learned to fly, but flew often, in competitions and commercially. Again, in spite of the danger, and at a time when most women were still getting married and staying at home, hundreds of young women flew.

Last week, I read a third book, Susan Butler’s “East of the Dawn”, a biography of Amelia Earhart. Earhart, perhaps the best known of the early women pilots, died attempting an around-the-world flight in 1937, when her plane disappeared shortly after taking off from New Guinea on one of the last legs of the trip.

Her story is also fascinating. As a very young woman, growing up in Kansas, Earhart decided to fly. And fly she did.

She was clearly an extraordinary person, growing up with an alcoholic father, who was not able to keep his family together and not able to keep them financially secure, although her overall family background was quite privileged. She was bright, charismatic and fearless. She was not only a pilot (actually an early test pilot, a barnstormer, a promoter of women aviation, a publicist and a competitor in numerous races and contests), she became a dedicated social worker in Boston and New York, and a journalist and author. She was extraordinarily popular, and after the married a Putnam of the publishing company, she had the resources to support her popularity and her many activities.

Her first flight across the Atlantic was not as a pilot, but as a journalist/passenger. Her second flight across the Atlantic was not only as a pilot, but was a solo flight; she became the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, and only the second person to fly solo across the Atlantic. She was also the first woman to fly across the United States, from California to the east.

She was not alone on her attempted flight to circumnavigate the world – she had a navigator with her, perhaps not the right navigator. The mystery of her disappearance has never been fully solved – but most likely, they lost their bearings when they were heading from New Guinea to a small Pacific island, and probably simply ran out of fuel over the ocean.

But again, equally interesting in the book is the overall story of early flying. On a continual basis, her fellow pilots (including men and women whose reputation as professionals could not have been higher) crashed and were killed. Yet, still, more and more people learned to fly, more and more planes were designed and constructed. And eventually, flying no longer held the same degree of danger.

Those of us who today fly at the drop of a hat owe an extraordinary amount to these pioneers. But there’s another story here – again one that I don’t fully understand.

With all of the danger and the loss of life and property, why didn’t anyone stop the development of air travel? Government safety and regulatory institutions existed then as they do now – and not only in the United States, but also throughout Europe, where flying was developing with equal energy. There was something transcendental going on – the attraction of air travel was so great that those who normally would have avoided its danger ignored that danger, and those who normally would have regulated against those dangers sat back and limited regulation. Air travel was virtually perfected……but we should never forget the cost.

And the reading of these three books (or any of them)is highly recommended.