MURRAY LUBIN ORAL HISTORY

EMMA MORGENSTERN: So, this is Emma Morgenstern and today is July 13th, 2011. I'm here at the Yiddish Book Center in Amherst, Massachusetts with Murray Lubin and we are going to record an interview as part of the Yiddish Book Center's Wexler Oral History Project. Murray, do I have your permission to record this interview?

MURRAY LUBIN: Yes, you do.

EM:Great, thanks. Okay, so can you start by telling me a bit about your family background?

ML:Okay. My mother was born in Poland, in a town called Rozwadów. And my father was born in the United States. My father came over here with his parents and his brother. I mean, my grandparents came over from Russia. They left Russia in 1917 1:00during the revolution. My grandfather was a tailor in the czar's army and he was undecided what he should do when the revolution occurred. And he went to his rabbi and he asked the rabbi where he thought he would be better off living. And the rabbi then told him, "If you can leave Russia and go to America, go ahead. Please do it." And that's the story how my grandparents left Russia and came to the United States. There, they had three children. My father was the middle child and when they came over, they only spoke Yiddish. And that's how my father learned all Yiddish. And basically, when they went to school, they only spoke Yiddish. And since my grandfather was a tailor, he opened up a tailor shop in 2:00the front of where they lived, and they slept in the back of the house. And that went on for many years until they were able to leave the tailor shop and actually live in a regular apartment. And that's how they started in this country. My mother's story is a little different. My mother's story is my mother was one of seven children who survived. Originally, there were thirteen children. The other children died in childbirth. Since they were very poor, to come to this country -- they couldn't come all at once. So, when they saved up enough money, my grandfather and the oldest son came to America. And when they saved up enough money, they sent it back to Poland and they sent then for the second child. And they kept on doing this until all the children came to 3:00America. My mother was the youngest of all the children, so she stayed with her mother until the last -- when they were able to come over. And they did have difficulty at certain points and one of my aunts then, from what my mother tells me, the story, she paid off one of the guards so that both my mother and her mother, my grandmother, were able to come to this country. So, my mother first saw her father maybe after seven, eight years. And originally, my mother's parents lived on the Lower East Side. My father's parents lived in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, which was just over the bridge. It's a very short distance apart. And after a certain length of time, in 1948 -- we lived in Williamsburg till 1948. 4:00Let me backtrack. My parents got married and they lived in Williamsburg, also. We lived a block away from my grandparents. In Manhattan at that time, they put up a co-op, which was for middle-income people. My parents bought into the co-op, so we moved from Williamsburg to the Lower East Side, which was a trip of maybe ten minutes. And that's where we lived and my mother's parents lived down the block from where we lived. And that's basically the story what happened. I didn't get to know my mother's parents too well, 'cause -- (coughs) excuse me -- my mother's father took ill and he died soon after. My grandmother, I just have a very few memories of her because I couldn't have been more than three or four 5:00at the time. And I just remember a little old Jewish lady, always wearing black with her head always covered. And whenever I was there, she would give me kandl-tsuker. Today, they call it rock candy. It's nothing but water and sugar and she used to make it in these large vats. And I remember her putting it in a handkerchief. And she lived above a tire shop. And I remember always banging it to break it into small pieces to give me. My father's parents, we used to go see them quite regularly. They lived in a cold-water flat. And I remember always going over there to help out with my father. Since I was the middle child, I had an older sister and she wasn't able to help. I forgot now the question that you 6:00asked me. (laughter)

EM:Well, I asked you about your family background, but --

ML:Well, then, that's --

EM:-- we can --

ML:-- basically it.

EM:Yeah, that's great. So, in what ways was the home you grew up in Jewish, would you say?

ML:We lived across the street from a place called the Bialystoker Synagogue, which is the name of a shul that was in Białystok, Poland. We were always religious. My mother's parents were khasidish [Hasidic]. In fact, the only picture we have of them is when my grandfather was sick, they superimposed a picture of him with my grandmother and that was the only picture. So, they were very, very religious, very Hasidic. My father's parents were pretty much the same. Coming from Russia, they also were very religious. But once they came to America, the children started to change a little. My father became more 7:00Americanized and so did his brother and sister. But my parents made sure that all of us went to yeshivas. So, I went to yeshiva first where we lived in Williamsburg. And then, when we moved to the East Side, I went to another yeshiva on the East Side. Those were the years that there was no Israel yet. So, when we learned in school, we would learn in Yiddish and we would translate it in Yiddish. All of our teachers were remnants of the Holocaust. So, their English was poor and Hebrew was non-existent. So, everybody learned and played and everything was done in Yiddish. Once 1948 came about, nothing changed for the yeshivas we went to, but as we grew older, I did not go to Yeshiva High 8:00School. The truth is that I became more Americanized and I didn't want to continue after the eighth grade. This was not only the story with me. It was the story with all my cousins. And we had plenty of them. And a lot of them lived right near us. We lived within walking distance of each other. So, after eighth grade, I went to public high school. So, background, my sister did the same. They sent my sister to Bais Yaakov. But then, my sister was ahead of me and she decided to go to public school in junior high school. My brother, my youngest brother, he didn't go to the yeshiva at all. He went to a talmud-toyre [Talmud 9:00Torah] and he learned in the talmud-toyre and as strange as it might sound, he became more religious than all of us. And he now lives in Israel.

EM:And what does it mean to you that you and your parents became more Americanized than other family members?

ML:What does it mean? It meant that we came to a different country and we accepted the customs of that country and we wanted to be part of it. In other words, my parents, especially my mother, wanted to learn English instead of just the Yiddish. So, they went to school at night to learn. And that was all my aunts and uncles, too. So, it meant a lot to become Americanized. And naturally, their children, they wanted them to become Americanized, too. So, a number of 10:00them didn't even go to yeshivas. I would say half of us went and half of us didn't. But since we weren't restricted like my parents were when they -- growing up, everything had changed and we became Americans, much more than our parents. And maybe more so than they wanted. But, as we got older, we went back.

EM:And what was Williamsburg like at the time when you were living there?

ML:Williamsburg was a khasidishe area. My parents were not khasidish. We were regular shulgoers. We would go to shul all the time. We would walk to shul. But we didn't wear the shtramels [round hat edged with fur, worn by Orthodox Jews on Shabbos and holidays] and we lived like a khasidishe area. And everything that you did was basically involved with the Hasidim: the stores you went to, the food you bought. But in many respects, they had their own community and we used 11:00to daven in a little shtaytl, I guess you can call it. It was also a cold-water flat that had a little burner in the center to keep warm in the winter. And it was a struggling place. The floors were always falling apart. Everything was sort of kokhn [cooking]. No other word to say for it. But it was our shul and that's where we went. Once we moved, we lived across the street from this Bialystoker Synagogue, which was a converted church. It was once a Lutheran church, I believe it was, and it was a beautiful place. And a number of years ago, they redid it to its original status. They hired a painter to make the ceilings and the walls back to their original, and I think the man lived there 12:00and worked in that area for two years till he restored it. The shul is now, what do they call it? A landmark shul. And they have tours there, also, of the shul, and it's truly a beautiful place to see.

EM:And how were Williamsburg and the Lower East Side similar or different at that time?

ML:At that time, the Lower East Side, the shul was -- both shuls, I guess you can say were Ashkenazim. But the Bialystoker shul was more modern. The people there all worked or went into small businesses. And although it was a known factor that a number of people after shul on Saturday would have to go to work to make a living, it was something that had to be done and it was known and accepted. As far as Williamsburg, though, the Hasidim were quite different. They 13:00still kept the old ways, the old customs, and they wouldn't hear of anything like this at all. And they did not and refused, basically, to speak in English. They spoke strictly Yiddish and they kept it Yiddish all the time, never wanting to change it. And in fact, that's still the same today. Nothing has changed.

EM:And did you speak Yiddish in your house growing up?

ML:We spoke Yiddish, but very little because my parents wanted to be Americanized. So, the only time we really spoke Yiddish was when I went to my grandparents, plus school, as I learned in school. And everything was Yiddish. No such thing as Hebrew.

EM:And how do you think your yeshiva education affected you at that point?

ML:At that point, going -- you mean when I was young? To a certain extent, I resented it. I felt that they were going backwards instead of forwards. I felt that I was living in America and I was born in America and I'm an American. So, to a certain extent, I was unhappy doing what I had to do and I was very unhappy in the yeshiva. And same with two cousins of mine and we all left, all the same age. And once we finished up to the eighth grade, we all left, as we all felt the same way. So, growing up was very difficult and a lot of times, it felt you were being prejudiced because you were Jewish; people would pick on you or annoy 15:00you 'cause you would be wearing a yarmulke all the time. So, there was a certain amount of resentment. I would have to say, after growing up, I went back. I felt that there was something important for my children that I wanted them to have. And I wanted them to understand and learn, which I think is very difficult for them to do now, growing up. But I think, as they will grow older and have their own families and they'll read history a little more, not just as a history book, they'll understand and they'll come back. Not that they have left yet. They haven't. But as they're reaching teenage years, I worry about them.

EM:Yeah.

ML:And thank goodness they're all going to yeshivas, through high school now. 16:00None of them have left yet. Once they reach college, I don't know what's going to happen. I'm sure they'll go to college, they'll go out of town, there'll be outside influences, but if their background is strong enough, they'll all come back. Just my opinion. It hasn't happened yet.

EM:So, moving on to your high school experience, can you tell me a little bit about that?

ML:I went to a public high school. The school was called Brooklyn Technical High School. It was a school that you had to take a test to get in, even though it was public. Basically, my cousin and I took the test for the school because it gave us a day off of school. We didn't have to go, so we went to Brooklyn, we took the test, it ended up we both passed, and we both started to go to the 17:00school. I found the school an eye-opener, so to speak. I was pretty much cloistered from first grade to eighth grade. I knew only Jewish people; I associated only with Jewish people. I had no idea what was going on outside of my little shtetl [small Eastern European town with a Jewish community]. Once we reached high school, there were all types of other people: Jews and non-Jews, there was colored, there was everything in that school. I felt it was a very good education. It was a technical education. You had your choice of being prepared for college or for a trade. But I became friends with many people there. A number of them were Italians. And from the first -- from ninth grade to 18:00twelfth grade, we pretty much went through every grade, most of our classes together, depending on what course you decided to take. We ate together, we did a lot of things together. And it wasn't till I graduated with them that I realized that there was a -- even though we were friends, there was a deep-seated distrust or hatred, I don't know what to call it -- the fact that I was a Jew. They never mentioned it till our last year in school. And I still remember today them saying to me, Murray, for a Jew, you're not bad. And I was shocked. I was taken back. I didn't understand it. And I still remember it 'cause it upset me, the fact that they would stay with me for four years, we would do homework together, we would play ball together, and never would bring 19:00out that, in a feeling, that a Jew is different. And that kind of changed a lot of things for me. And I never forgot it and when I'd go to work or anything else, I always remember it and I always let everybody know, right at the beginning, who I am and what I am. So, it did affect -- had a great effect.

EM:And have you been friends with non-Jews since then?

ML:Yes, I have. But no matter how friendly I am, I know that being Jewish separates you. Somehow or another, no matter what, I don't know if it's upbringing, of Christianity teaching different things, or hearing it from their parents -- a lot of times you'll hear about, "Oh, the Jew," the businessman who would steal from you or rob from you or overcharge you, somewhere along the 20:00line, you would always hear something about the Jew. And I think that should affect every Jew, that they should realize that they're not equal. There's always going to be a separation until all the Jews would be together.

EM:Do you remember having experienced other specific instances of anti-Semitism?

ML:You mean in school?

EM:Yeah, or in general.

ML:In general, I would say when I was a printer and went in business, I would kind of get the sense a number of times -- the area where my business was was not a Jewish area. It was basically a -- Italian area and were -- a lot of Germans lived in that town, also. And even though they did business with me, 21:00there would be a number of times where they would mention, You know, for a Jew, you're not bad. At least they knew where they stood and they always were level with me. And I always leveled with them and was honest with them. And if I couldn't do something, I would tell them. So, I think they appreciated it, but they always felt I'm still a Jew. And came the Jewish holidays, I would close. They wouldn't even understand that. "How could you do that? How could you need it?" No matter what you did, somehow in the background, they always let you know you're Jewish.

EM:So, you mentioned that you were a printer. You also, in your questionnaire beforehand, you mentioned you had a job in high school delivering type?

ML:I started learning this trade thanks to my father, who -- my father, because 22:00he spoke Yiddish fluently, was able to get a job in the "Forverts." And he met a lot of people in the business, also, and a lot of his friends were also printers. And while I was in high school, to earn some extra money as a part-time job, my father took me to different shops and one of them hired me to do deliveries. Now, in those days, I would get fifty cents a delivery. Didn't make a difference how long the delivery took. The delivery could have taken ten minutes or two-and-a-half hours. What would happen is there was a separation between the printing press and typesetting. And I was working for a typesetter 23:00who would do work for printers that didn't have the linotype machine or any method of setting type. They would receive the type from the linotype machine, put it on their press -- it's like the machine you have outside -- and produce the job for the customers. So, to get the type that they needed, they would go to a specialist that was just -- all he did was set type, even though there were printers that had 'em both. And whatever it weighed -- I mean, that package sometimes could have weighed fifty pounds and I would have to shlep that package on the subway or on the bus to wherever this printer was and then come back. And that's how I got started doing that. After that, I also did other places like that, okay? Once I finished and I did my little hitch in the Army, which was 24:00only a six-month deal -- I did the six-month, six-year deal, where I would go away every summer and once a week to active duty for the Army. And after I came back, I had no desire to go back to school. So, my father took me to another friend of his where I wasn't getting paid. In fact, I always had the feeling that my father paid him to teach me how to become a linotype operator. And I think I worked for him for about six months, learning things, what to do, what not to do. And after six months, I felt I had a basic knowledge of what was involved and I went out looking for a job that would pay. I found one on the Lower East Side which was close to me. I was able to walk to work. And that's 25:00how I started. I started working at night; it was the night shift, from four o'clock to twelve o'clock. And I think my parents' biggest worry was me walking home, which took about forty minutes, to walk from where we lived to where this shop was, in Manhattan on Second Avenue. And from there, I just continued on to different shops. And as I was working in the shops, my father then told me, because most printers or the linotype operators at that time were unionized. When I started working in these places, they were not unionized. And my father let me know about a place that the union was looking to organize. He said, "Get into that shop, no matter what. No matter what they pay you, get in, 'cause the union's going to organize the shop." And I went up to the place, they tested me 26:00on the machine, and they hired me. And then, a couple of months later, the union organized the shop. So, instead of spending six years as an apprentice to become a printer and you had to wait a few years to even become an apprentice. How the union worked it was you were allowed one apprentice, let's say, for every six or seven journeymen, what they called it. Was a full-fledged printer. So, you would have to work in the shop a number of years till there was an opening. In other words, if a printer left or an apprentice left or somehow or another, they would then hire you because you were working in that shop. And then, you would first start your six-year apprenticeship. Because the union organized the shop, I 27:00actually started at the top and worked my way down to the bottom instead of working at the bottom and working up like normally was done. And that's how I became a printer in the union. And that's how I made my living for a long time. And then, after a certain length of time, when I saw what was happening in the industry -- I saw that, in the 1960s, the industry started to change. The machinery and everything you have here is what was called hot type. And things were changing to what they called cold type. The computers weren't in yet, but there was machinery that was using entirely different principles and different methods to produce the same thing much faster, much cleaner, and I would say cheaper. So, at that time, I was a young man and I was married and I was saying, 28:00How am I gonna support my family when all these things change? So, I went to a shop that had the new methods coming in. So, I was able to get my foot in the door and learn some of these machines. Now, a lot of these machines, at that time, just didn't work. They never made it. One of the machines was called a phototypesetter, which used the same keyboard as this linotype machine had. The idea was that you wouldn't have to retrain linotype operators because they already know and understand the keyboard and the principles of the machine. The machine used mattresses, but they call them mats, which on the linotype machine 29:00have an indentation in the back of the mold of the letter. And the new machine had it so that it was in the middle of this mat, but it was a photograph of the letter instead of a mold. And as the letters would cross the camera, the camera would constantly take pictures of it and compose it into a line. Because it was a line and they used the linotype keyboard, it never really made it because most of the idea was to eliminate the linotype operators and the union. They felt by eliminating certain aspects in the training they had, they could convert the system to a typewriter keyboard. There were a number of machines that came out 30:00with it. IBM was one of them. They used the typewriter that had a ball on it, and if you wanted to change the size of the type or the appearance of it, you would just take out that ball made of aluminum and put in a new one. And it was a fantastic invention. It was an amazing thing. At that time, I was working in a shop where the boss opened up another business that was non-union. So, on the same floor, he had union linotype operators and non-union workers. The advantage he had was that the IBM typewriter keyboard, he was able to hire women to do it because there was nobody well enough trained to learn that. And there was nothing much that the union can do, although -- because it was a separate business. They did fight him tooth and nails, but the boss did win out that he 31:00didn't have to make these people unionized. In fact, I volunteered and he sent me to school to learn that IBM machine, even though I wasn't allowed to use it. He felt that somewhere along the line, he would be able to merge the two. Well, the union wouldn't allow -- it never happened, and eventually he moved or closed the union shop and opened up a non-union shop. And you just saw what was happening in the industry. A previous boss that I worked for did the same thing. There were two partners and it was only the linotype machine that they would use. And after a while, they opened up, in another location, a non-union shop, starting with the new methods. And when they decided to close the unionized 32:00shop, the two partners got me my last job prior to me deciding to go out on my own. So, I saw what was happening, and this was in the early 1960s. So, I learned as much as I can on these new methods, but the new methods weren't ready yet for full-time operations. By the 1970s, they pretty much took over everything. But I learned them, I understood them, and when I decided to go into business on my own -- because it was the only way I'd be able to support my family. At that time -- it was in the 1970s, I had four children, and sending four children to yeshivas was an expensive proposition. So, I gambled and I went 33:00out on my own. At that time, you were able to get four weeks' vacation in the union shop as a linotype operator. So, I took my four weeks and I opened up my own shop and that was it. I never went back and I went into business and I stayed in business for thirty-odd years.

EM:So, when you were working in these shops earlier in your career, what kinds of things were you printing?

ML:There were a few different types of places. One of them, the one that I worked in that became unionized, we were strictly what they called a thermography shop, meaning raised printing. And we used to do business cards and invitations, fancy work. We even did work for the president's inauguration. And 34:00thermography shops received their work from other print shops because to make the raised print on a machine, you needed additional units called thermography units, which -- you used a slow-drying ink and there was a powder. And the powder would fall into the ink while it was still wet, then go through a heating system, which would make the raise on a printing job. And it became so that it was a specialty because you could go to an insurance company that had hundreds of employees and they all had business cards saying what they did. And you were able to print, let's say, thirty-six cards at one time, thereby lowering your cost to the point where if you tried, as a regular printer, to print the business card yourself, it would cost you more money than to give it away to 35:00somebody else to do for you. And besides, the raised printing made it look very nice. And the same thing with wedding invitations. They printed books that they would send out to -- you walk into a card store today and you'll see rows and rows of books. They could be birth announcements, engagement cards, even Hebrew New Year cards that are all specialties in books. Now, every one of those books or even in the print shop or the card store, they don't do it. They would send that to the specialty stores, to the specialty shop called thermography shop. Now, we used to get work from all over the country. And you would get it from California. You would get it from New York. It was just an amazing new invention 36:00because they -- if a shop wanted to, they could have bought one by hand, but it became very expensive and very time-consuming. And printing is all based on a billing system of time. So, we used to do a lot of invitations and we used to do it both in the hot type and what they call the cold type. Because if you looked at a script, like handwriting, in the cold type, you can make the A hook into the bottom of the T and it would look as if you actually wrote it. But in hot type, because each letter is a separate foundry piece that you push together, there is always a little gap. And because of that gap, it doesn't make it look that pretty. So, we used that phototypesetting machines just for people who 37:00wanted the script, and they paid more for it. It was much more expensive, even though you were able to produce it much cheaper. The difference is, on the linotype, the line would come out and you would be able to see it and you would hold it in your hand. But in the phototype, it would go into a canister, because it was film, and you had to go into a darkroom and develop it in the darkroom. Until the invention of the computers like we have today, that was the only way you could do it. With computers, it became another world, it became equivalent to the Industrial Revolution in the fact as -- that it can change everything. I could explain to you that you can press a button and you can get a different type of font. You can go on the machine and press another button, you can get a different size, which makes it very easy, very convenient. The linotype machine, 38:00you were not able to do that. It became just too expensive. And also, it helped break the unions, to a certain extent.

EM:And did you ever do any Yiddish typesetting?

ML:I did a number of Yiddish typesettings many, many years ago. That was when I was very little and I was with my father and we used to go to the different shops and I would help him out. But I really stopped with the Yiddish when the kids started in yeshivas because when my children went, they were learning Hebrew and not Yiddish. So, even though the letters are the same, everything about it changes. You can't intermingle the two. I couldn't do Hebrew typesetting because that's what became the vogue at that time. So, Yiddish 39:00pretty much went by the wayside for the Hebrew. And today, I still have a friend or two of mine. They do Yiddish. They live in Borough Park, Brooklyn, which is a very Orthodox area. And he does some Yiddish typesetting. Plus, he also does some Hebrew typesetting. But the Yiddish outside of the small areas like Borough Park or Williamsburg or Monsey, New York, it's just not there anymore. And besides, they pretty much like to deal with their own. The Hasidim would deal with the Hasidim when it came to the Yiddish. This particular friend is khasidish. And anyone else, they really wouldn't want to deal with. So, even though I had some Hebrew fonts, as things went on, it was just not usable and I 40:00was doing strictly English work.

EM:And did you like your work?

ML:I loved it.

EM:What did you love about it?

ML:I don't know. I felt like I was never really working. I always enjoyed what I did. And I found that, in a certain way, a challenge and I found that I always enjoy producing something out of nothing. And it was a pleasure. You would take something -- somebody would give you something and give you an idea. They would tell you what they wanted and you would create something that they could use. And I always found it fascinating. I still do. I still enjoy it. I still play around now on the computers, doing typesetting. I use the programs they have and it's just a marvel. It's an amazing thing to me. It still is.

EM:And tell me a little bit more about the shop that you opened yourself in the '70s.

ML:Before I started opening the shop, I wanted to get a certain amount of customers. So, what I did was I was working at night and during the day, I would walk around from store to store like a peddler. I would hand them my business card and I would just look to get work. And after a couple of years of doing this, I had enough customers that I was able to open up my own shop. So, when I opened it up, I had a base of customers that I knew at least I can pay the rent and hopefully put some food on the table. And I opened it up. Although I didn't use it, I put in a linotype machine in my place so my father could come and play 42:00with it. And my father would come all the time and he would use the machine. Sometimes he would just do it for fun. And he had a customer or two that still wanted Yiddish. And he would bring them the type from the shop and he would make a few dollars. But it made him happy and it gave him something to do and my mother was tickled pink because she said, "Get him out of my hair," (laughs) and he was able to come every day and it was a pleasure. He would sit and do what he wanted and I used the machine when I needed it. But basically, I was using the new machinery that had come into existence because of its speed and its ease. In the new machinery, a woman could work it. There was no physical strength 43:00involved. This particular machine, the linotype, you would have to do a lot of heavy lifting. When we passed by and I showed you that piece of metal that I had that I took with me that you saw hanging from the machine, I would say each one of those weighed about forty to forty-five pounds each. And where all the mats are or all the letters were, they were located in that big thing on the top called the magazine. And they would weigh easily ninety pounds apiece. And as the years went by, they converted them into brass and they converted them to aluminum to make it lighter. But no matter how light you made it, the mats that are in there made it very heavy. So, the lightest you would probably get would be fifty pounds. And each time you wanted to change something, you would have to 44:00take one off and put another one on. So, I'd venture to say that unless you worked for a book publisher or a newspaper, where you didn't have to change 'em all the time, you would be changing them, I would say, twenty times a night. So, a book publisher, you would just use the same one, and the Yiddish newspapers also used the same one all the time because the type was always the same as far as the articles go. When you would want a headline in the larger type, that's when they would use either another machine or the hand type like you have outside. Now, a book publisher, they would require that you have X amount of those what you call galleys, what they call galleys, which would be, oh, maybe 45:00twenty inches long. You would be required to have X amount per night or per day when you do it. The ad chops, what they called advertising work, is where you would have to be changing it twenty times a day. They just require the time on every job that you did because they would bill each time you changed it and their billing method would be based on -- although you would work seven hours, the billing was based on six hours. And if you didn't produce enough work, you would be looking for another job the next day. In fact, even if you did produce, because they were -- linotype operators then were highly skilled and highly paid. So, if you were working in an advertising agency and they weren't able to 46:00foresee work the following week, by union rule, they would have to tell you Wednesday that Friday would be your last day. So, came Wednesday, if they didn't see the work in the future, they would lay you off. But because there was always a shortage of linotype operators, especially doing ad work, you would never have a problem. In fact, when my wife gave birth to our second child -- I remember it, she was in a room with like three other women and the nurse would come around for information and they would say, Where does your husband work? And my wife said, "I don't know. (laughs) I don't know where he's working today," because that particular year, I had thirteen W2 forms. And the reason was because union rule was strictly seniority. And if I was on the bottom and the 47:00boss didn't see work, he would lay you off. (brushes bug off arm) Hi. So, there was never a problem getting a job. I remember I was working once for a shop. Printing had their own buildings pretty much because you needed heavy elevators for these machines. And they told me I would not be working after Wednesday and during my lunch, I just took the elevator upstairs. And before my lunchtime was over, I had another job for next week. So, there was never a problem if you knew what you were doing, and they used to test you out. They would give you a test for an hour or so and if they felt that you didn't know what you were doing, they just would say no and you can't be hired. 'Cause today, you can change any type you want. But in those days, if they gave you a job to do or a reprint from 48:00a previous job, you would have to know both the size and the typeface that you were using. And you couldn't experiment like you can today on a computer. Today, it's nothing. In two seconds, you change the type. But in those days, you would have to lift off that heavy weight -- let's say like that ninety-pound weight -- put it away, take another one, and put it on. And you couldn't do that because you were being checked on your time. I remember working for a place on Twenty-Third Street once and I was pretty new at that place at that time. And what you had to do, besides punching a clock when you came into work and punching out when you went home -- you would have a timecard for every job that you did, no matter how long the job took or how short. So, they would have all 49:00the jobs stacked up on the table. You would finish your job, you would go to the table, and you would take the next job. So, I remember finishing one job and then I excused myself to go the bathroom. Came back, picked up the next job and went to work. The next day, I never forget it, also, the boss came over to me and he shows me the timecard from one job to the next and there was a five-minute spread between the two. And he said to me, "What happened here? Where's the time that you're missing?" So, it took me a while to think of what happened. I says, "I guess I went to the bathroom." He says, "The next time you do that, punch -- take the job, punch in on the clock, and then go to the bathroom," he says, "because I want to bill in case the customer asks for that 50:00time that you didn't do." And that was the nature of the business. Even though it was union -- and if you didn't have the union, it would be -- even then, I guess you can still call it a sweatshop. And they were very strict about the time. They watched every minute and they wanted to bill every minute. And another shop had a counter on that machine that turns around -- there's a big can, like a very big wheel. And another shop I remember put a counter on it, that every time the wheel turned around it would trip the number, so you had to always -- you would be able to check, excuse me, how many lines of type you produced each day. There are other ways to get around it, but leave it to people working -- and some people used to -- I can show you on the machine that every 51:00time the machine comes down, there's a plunger that would -- I guess you can call it spit out the mold and make the molten medal go into that mold. But if you took the pin out, the machine would go around but it would never cast any lines. So, I remember some of the fellas used to pull the pin, put a rubber band to it, and let the machine go around and 'round, because you couldn't let the machine get too hot. When the machine got too hot, it wouldn't work. It would have major problems, which at least today the computers and the cold type eliminated.

EM:So, moving on to some of your more personal life, how did you meet your wife?

ML:We met at a dance, many, many years ago. And now, we've been married 52:00forty-seven years. Four children, seventeen grandchildren. So, thank goodness, we've had a good life.

EM:And how did you connect to Jewish life as you became an adult?

ML:I went back to being religious once my children started being born. I felt that I wanted to give them something, at least a choice of the way it was, the way it is, the way it will be. But I didn't want them growing up just knowing that they're Jewish and not knowing what it meant to be Jewish. So, once my first child was born, I started reverting back to being religious. I went away 53:00for a number of years till that time. And it always meant a lot. And through my children, I would say I became more religious, even though my children are more religious than I am. But I did go back.

EM:And so, in what ways did you transition back into being more religious?

ML:It just didn't happen overnight. It was a slow process. I had, for quite a while, stopped going back to shul on a daily basis. Once my children started reaching an age where they were in school, I started taking them and started going with them. And slowly but surely, it all came back.

EM:And was there any kind of Yiddishkayt apart from going to shul and being --

ML:Well, the house always was kosher. I guess you can say it always was a Jewish home. We always did, no matter what -- see, my parents were strictly religious and kosher. So, we were always involved with it and the children were always involved with it. So, the transition wasn't that difficult. Was just a matter of more involvement, more doing, especially once they started yeshivas.EM:And you mentioned that your children learned Hebrew in yeshiva. Did they ever learn any Yiddish from you or from school?

ML:My wife tried to teach them expressions. We have a book with Yiddish sayings. So, some of them get a kick out of it, and they do know certain words and 55:00certain expressions. But I don't think they can relate to it yet. I think they will as they get older, but since they learn everything in Hebrew, it's very difficult to relate to Yiddishkayt. In fact, what they do really is Yiddishkayt, except at a different level. So, they never went away from it. In fact, two of the children live in Israel and two of them live together in another area, in New York, which is both -- very religious areas. They're not khasidish, but they're very religious. It's nice areas. I enjoy going there.

EM:Yeah, what do you do when you go there?

ML:I don't know. Play with my grandchildren. (laughs) And -- no, we usually all go together. I go with my daughter's kids to shul together. My son's kids, they 56:00go to different minyans. My son likes to go to the early minyan, which is too early for me, like six, six-thirty. The other ones all have groups of their own friends, certain ages, they're all different ages, and each group in their shul has children of their age. And I usually go to the last minyan, which is about nine-thirty, which I enjoy. And then, we play together, we eat together, we walk together. We do a lot of things together as a family. Very nice. It's a pleasure. It's a nice thing for old age.

EM:Yeah. Do you ever speak Yiddish anymore?

ML:Very little. Very little occasion for it. I have, outside of one cousin, no one else who I could speak it to. This one particular cousin, also my age, he 57:00would be great for you to interview because he raised his kids speaking Yiddish. They would go to the store, he wouldn't speak a word -- English. He would only speak Yiddish to them. And then, growing up in the house, he only spoke Yiddish. So, he's very fluent. Any words I know or I'm questioning, I want to know, I call him up and he tells me. But that would be, right now, the extent of it. It's limited, very limited.

EM:You mentioned a lot about the unions when you were working.

ML:Yeah.

EM:Were you ever involved in the unions? Were you politically active in other ways?

ML:I was in the union but I never had time to get politically involved. I was really very busy all the time with the kids, so I didn't have -- and besides, 58:00most of the time that I worked, I worked the night shift. And I would come home and a lot of times, by the time I would get up, the kids would be gone or something. Once the last kids started going to school, that's when I switched to the day shifts. But I enjoyed the night shift because I was able to drive into work. I didn't have to worry about taking the subway for an hour and a half. So, I didn't have the time. I was a member of the union for a long time. But then again, once I started my own business, I couldn't afford the union. So, I left the union at that time.

EM:And do you still do printing?

ML:Yes, I still do.

EM:Can you tell me what kinds of work you're doing now?

ML:Now I do everything on the computer. (laughs) Well, there's not too many left 59:00now, but I used to do journals, a lot of organization. I did a lot of shul bulletins. I do memorial books, kind of stuff like that that I still have customers that still come back to me. They come back year after year. And so, that's basically -- I don't look for any more work. I really don't want to. But since I've had these customers for forty-odd years or something, they still come back and I still do it. (laughs)

EM:What was that transition like, from machinery to computers for your business?

ML:Actually, since I had both, the transition from what the hot type was to the cold type -- it was so much easier to do on cold type, so much faster, much more productive. So, in reality, it wasn't difficult at all. Customer got the job, 60:00they still got their printer job without any problems and the -- time-wise made it cheaper. Faster and cheaper, because if the linotype broke to the point where you were unable to fix it, you would have to call special mechanics to come or get special parts for it. And as each year went by, there were less and less mechanics that could fix it and less and less parts available and more and more expensive as you went. So, there really was no question about it. Much, much easier. And the newspapers found that out in the 1970s. I remember "The New York Times" putting an ad in the printing newspaper saying, "Anyone who wants the 61:00machine, come to the loading dock and take it." They would just line them up and say, "Take it, please," because they converted the systems and, as you see, the machine is a big, heavy, bulky piece of machinery. And you would need riggers to do it and riggers don't come cheap. They're very expensive. Most of the machinery then went to South America, 'cause South America was like ten years behind us. And I guess, after a while, they got rid of it, too. But at that time, you got a machine for nothing if you were willing to pay for the freight. So, convert to the newer methods and the computer, no problem whatsoever. In fact, you can't even find these machines if you wanted to. You can't find parts 62:00for these machines. They're just non-existent anymore. Everything was sold as scrap.

EM:And what do you think the future is for this industry?

ML:There's not going to be much of an industry left of it because of all the new technology. And it's marvelous, it really is, but you can print or copy something now on a machine yourself. You don't need a printer. Especially now, with the color copiers that they have, you can produce anything you want on your own. You don't need a printer and you don't need the skill or any talent, any special talent because you can print something, you don't like it, you can change it. The only advantage that's gonna be and the only industry that I foresee is going to be high-class work or if a company's gonna need large 63:00amounts of copies. In other words, there reaches a point where it becomes cheaper to give the work to a printer than to produce it yourself, let's say on a color copier. The time you get finished with the ink and whatnot, if the job itself runs, let's say, ten thousand copies, it's gonna become expensive for you in terms of ink and in terms of using the machine that rapidly to produce that quantity, whereby if you put it on or gave it to a printer with a printing press, he can produce that ten thousand copies in two hours. So, pricewise, it would become cheaper for you to give that out. But otherwise, I don't see a 64:00future in the printing industry outside of that.

EM:So, do you have any advice that you would give to people interested in that industry in the future?

ML:Learn the computer. Learn as many programs dealing with the printing industry as you possibly can, because they keep on coming up with new ones or adding on new programs or additions to the existing programs that are just tremendous. They're fantastic. You can do whatever your imagination will allow you to do. And there will be a market for it, but it's gonna be a limited market. But those that will be able to do it will make a very nice living, I think. The same thing with the pressmen, the printing of it. But the truth is, it's the computer. That's the key now.

EM:And what about future generations of young Jews? Do you have any advice that you would give to them?

ML:I would say a Jewish education is the only answer because without understanding who you are, you won't know what you are. And if you don't know where you came from, you don't know where you're gonna be going. So, learning about your history, just understanding your history, you don't have to learn it in terms of a religious way, although I think that does help. But learning your history will be the only answer for your existence. Without that, you'll be a nobody floating around. That's just my opinion, yeah.

EM:Yeah. What does Yiddish mean to you today?

ML:I find the combination between Yiddish and Hebrew to be like a co-op. They have to work together because, just like I just said, if you don't know your past, you can't know your future. So, Yiddish was the past and Hebrew, I think, is the future. You must learn from the past for the future.

EM:And we always ask this question at the end of interviews: do you have a favorite Yiddish word, phrase, or song?

ML:Shlog dayn kop against the vant. (laughs)

EM:And what does that mean?

ML:Bang your head against the wall. When my kids used to complain, I used to tell them that. That was what my mother used to tell me. (laughter) "Just bang your head against the wall," that's it. That's the answer you're gonna get.

EM:All right, and do you have anything else that you'd like to touch on?

ML:None that I can think of.

EM:Okay. Well, thank you so much.

ML:Okay, thank you.

[END OF INTERVIEW]