Grandpa on a Camel: A Family Story (Judean Rose) ~ Elder Of Ziyon

Wednesday, March 19, 2025

Grandpa on a Camel: A Family Story (Judean Rose)

Disclaimer: Family stories vary according to the teller and also change over time. This story is based on memories my mother shared with me. I have likely embellished it greatly with my imagination. Any inaccuracies belong solely to me.

It was hard for Haiman Kopelman, my great grandfather, to leave Vashilishok. He was not only leaving the city he called home, but his widowed mother, his as yet unmarried sister, and a wife and two young sons. But that was the way of things. You got out if you could—even if you did it one at a time--and sent for the others when you’d made enough money to pay their way.

Haiman was actually the second Kopelman to leave Vashilishok. His brother Max got out first, and settled in Vandergrift, Pennsylvania, some 30 miles away from Pittsburgh. That’s no doubt the reason Haiman decided to hang his hat in New Kensington, a hop, skip, and a jump from his big brother Max, only ten miles away. New Ken is a river town, situated alongside the Allegheny River, making it prime territory for someone with a hankering to become a real live American peddler.

Perhaps “hankering” is a little strong. Let’s just say the plan was this: Haim would peddle goods until he’d made enough to bring over Anna and the boys; Ellis, who would one day become my grandfather, and Nathan. It took a long while for Haiman, more scholar than businessman, to earn their fare, and Anna was getting impatient, but at last there was enough to purchase their passage.

Haiman was jubilant (or maybe not—I wasn’t there) at the thought of being reunited with his wife and two small children. But then his mother wrote that his sister Topazelda—or however it’s spelled--not that it matters, because once she came to the Goldena Medina, she became “Tillie”—was getting married, and there was nothing for her nedunya (dowry). Oy! What to do?

Do you see where this is going? Haiman sent Anna’s ticket money to his mom in Vashilishok so his sister Topazelda—or however it’s spelled—could be married in style—whatever that meant in Vashilishok.

Anna was not a happy camper, or so I’m told.

I picture her tight-lipped, and then finally, resolved: if Haiman wouldn’t buy the tickets, then by cracky—or some Yiddish approximation thereof—she would.

Unlike Haiman, Anna had a knack for business. She opened a leather findings shop, and soon had enough coinage to get herself and the boys on a boat. In fact, Anna did so well with her little business that she had gorgeous velvet suits made for the boys—their father shouldn’t be ashamed when he sees them for the first time in so long.

In actual fact, Haiman blanched when he saw the two boys in their painstakingly hand-crafted velvet suits, or so I’m told. To Haiman, the boys looked like total greeners, right off the boat. Which they were.

I wouldn’t say Haiman was ashamed—though again, I wasn’t there—but he certainly was embarrassed. Which is why, after that first tender reunion—again I wasn’t there, but I certainly hope it was tender—Haiman went out and bought the boys “fifty-cent cotton wash suits,” as my mother called them, cheap, factory-produced, washable suits. Because HEL-LO-O. That’s what normal people wore in America at the turn of the 20^th century, and not some Eastern European velvet bloomer weirdness—I am imagining lace collars here. (I pray not, but again, I wasn’t there.)

One night, Anna, who was a feminist but just didn’t know it or care, approached Haiman as he was compiling a list of items he needed to restock his wares. Anna’s hand dipped into her pocket and brought out a wad of cash (I’m calling it a wad, but who knows?). “Buy double,” she said.

But she wasn't done.

With her cool business head, Anna had saved up not only enough for the tickets and the velvet suits, but also a house. Anna took the $500 she’d put aside for this purpose, and scouted out a two-story home with a big front window. There she put Haiman’s new (doubled) inventory, and the four of them would live upstairs. Thus was born Kopelman’s, a department store.

Haiman and Anna Kopelman

To cut a long story short, the business grew, and as was the custom in those days, Haiman went back to Vashilishok to show he’d done well, to come bearing gifts and make his mother kvell. However, there was a catch. Haiman was now clean-shaven, no longer the bearded young man he’d been when he left his scholarly life in Lithuania. It wasn’t the thing to have a beard in America.

But oy! His mother. If she were to see him beardless, she’d plotz! Not to worry. Haiman had an idea. He’d go to Vashilishok, sure, but first he’d go to Palestine, and visit Anna’s family. Two of her brothers lived there in Jerusalem. One of them had many children. He’d bring everyone gifts and have a nice visit. Meanwhile, he’d be growing his beard. Natch?

Engagement photo of Anna's brother Nachum Shlomo Yanowsky and Chaya Devorah Shick, Jerusalem

Chaya Devorah and Nachum Shlomo in later years

The visit was pleasant.* His beard now suitably long, Haiman traveled on to Lithuania, gave his mother nachas, and then, instead of going straight back to America, he decided he’d take a little side trip to Egypt. There he’d see the pyramids! The Sphinx! “Haiman Kopelman, world traveler!” How cool is that?

There was just one little hitch, it was 1914, and right as Great Grandpa Haiman Kopelman arrived in Egypt, World War I broke out. Egypt was a nice place to visit, but Haiman wanted to get home and while Egypt wasn’t yet involved in the war effort, there were no passenger ships going to America.

This was a problem, not that Haiman knew anything about it. After Haiman left for his world journey, Anna discovered she was pregnant. She meant to surprise him with the news on his return. Indeed it was a surprise.

Because by the time Haiman arrived, so had Anna’s twins, the last of their progeny. It had taken nine months for him to return. Which is why they were twins of course. Nine months for Anna and nine for Haiman’s journey, so of course, two babies.

Which, I was given to understand, was some sort of family joke, though I dunno. It’s kind of strange as joke material, since only one of the twins survived. Maybe Ricky Gervais could do something with that. Or maybe I’m underestimating Haiman and Anna. Maybe when they told it, it was ROFL.

But I digress. This entire story, in fact, was a digression. The story is merely a backdrop for a prized family photo. In the photo is Great Grandpa Haiman, still with his neat little beard, on camelback. In fact, I have named this photo, “Grandpa on a camel.”

The man on the little white donkey beside him is, however, a mystery. Haiman said his fellow traveler was Professor Eliot, the president of Harvard. They spent a long time together, Haiman and Professor Eliot, stuck there as they both were by the exigencies of war. After the two separately managed to get home to America, Eliot sent my great grandpa a signed copy of a complete set of Shakespeare. I do not know who has the set or where it is. I have not seen it. I do not even know if it exists or ever did.

But I tried really hard to find out something about the mysterious Professor Eliot of Harvard. I like to imagine him in deep conversation with my Jewish great grandfather, a former yeshiva bochur from Vashilishok whose mother tongue was Yiddish, and who perhaps had a bit of an accent. (I don’t know that. I wasn’t there. It’s just how it plays out in my mind.)

My correspondence with the librarians at Harvard unfortunately yielded no useful answers as to the identity of the man on the donkey. There was no one who matched, really—there was always something that didn’t fit the picture, and those librarians really tried.

Well, who knows? Maybe “Professor Eliot, president of Harvard” lied to Haiman and had this totally other life and occupation. Maybe he was a vagrant.

No not that. His clothes are too nice. But whatever. Beggar or thief or president of Harvard, the complete set of Shakespeare was certainly a nice touch. Even if I’m not 100% sure it exists or ever did.

*More about that visit another time.