PAUL BERG ORAL HISTORY

CHRISTA WHITNEY:This is Christa Whitney. Today is July 26th, 2012. I'm here in Vilnius, Lithuania, with Paul Berg, and we are going to record an interview as part of the Yiddish Book Center's Wexler Oral History Project. Do I have your permission to record this interview?

PAUL BERG:Yes.

CW:A sheynem dank [Thank you very much].

PB:You're velcome.

CW:So to start, can you tell me what you know about your family background, as far back as you know?

PB:I will say this as a preface: I wish I knew more. I regret not having done the oral history of my grandparents when they were alive, so I'm -- I really value what you're doing. What I know is that my maternal side -- grandmother, 1:00grandfather, and mother -- were born in this area. My grandmother referred to it as "Vilna Gubernia." And Judy, my wife, points out to me that there's a place in Belarus specifically named "Vilna Gubernia, but I believe that it refers really to the suburbs of, because they lived nowhere near a city, nowhere near a small town -- they were farm people -- shtetl [small town in Eastern Europe with a Jewish community] -- shtetl-dwellers -- but certainly from this area, and always talked about Vilna, Vilna.

CW:Do you have any idea of what they did in the shtetl, or --

PB:I don't. I'm sure my grandmother cooked and annoyed my grandfather, but I don't know what he did.

CW:And your mother was born here?

PB:My mother was born here, but when she was an infant, my grandfather went to 2:00New York -- they could only afford one person to go. And like many immigrants, the plan was, I'll work, I'll make money, and I'll send for my family. Unfortunately, in the interim, between when he went and when he could afford to send for them, they were driven from their home by the soldiers of the day, whoever they were -- they changed from year to year -- and they were driven into the forest. And my mother and grandmother basically lived in the forest, off the forest, from the forest, for about a y-- between a year or two, I'm not exactly sure -- during my mother's infancy or toddlerhood. And then eventually -- I don't know how the arrangements were made, but eventually, they did get to New York and settled.

CW:Were there times growing up when you would hear stories of Vilna Gubernia?

PB:No. That's one of my regrets. And I think part of it is, I think I may have more nostalgia about it than they did. It was not happy -- certainly, the circumstances. So Judy and I at one point, many years ago, were going on a trip to Russia. And Judy, with pride, said to bobe [grandmother], "Paul and I are going to Russia." And she said, "Why do you have to do that? I was there." Meaning, it's a place you go away from; it doesn't have the nostalgic -- for her -- draw back. So I think maybe people in my circumstances can romanticize it; what she remembers is those harsh, horrible last years, and the products of anti-Semitism.

CW:So you grew up in the Bronx?

PB:I did.

CW:Can you describe your home? Were there items in your home that you remember as being iconic?

PB:Yes, there were. The usual -- not just the menorah, but beautiful silver candlesticks, silver trays -- and fortunately, we do have those, and have already -- years ago -- pre-distributed it to the children, so that they would have it. And they prize it.

CW:And can you describe what the neighborhood looked like?

PB:Where I grew up?

CW:Um-hm.

PB:It was a neighborhood approximately half Jewish and half Italian. And you couldn't tell the difference between the Italian kids and the Jewish kids. And you certainly couldn't tell the difference between the Italian parents and the Jewish parents. They were all dramatic. They spoke with their hands. They 5:00screamed out the window. And they were loving and loud and brash. That neighborhood changed after some years as there were immigrant fluxes -- first, black people; then, Puerto Ricans -- and the neighborhood became intolerably unsafe at some point. In fact, my grandparents, partly to get away from there but mostly to be with me, left New York at an age -- they were in their fifties or early sixties -- which was quite brave for them, because they were very provincial -- and came to California, to the Bay Area, so they could be near their only child -- and my mother was an only child, my father was an only child. So my family tree is not a tree; it's a twig. I don't like that, but what it means is, people in that twig -- twigdom -- really value each other much 6:00more. It's a skinny, precious heritage.

CW:So, your grandparents were also around as you were growing up? Is that true?

PB:Very much. I lived with them. We couldn't afford two places, so I lived with my grandparents, my mother and my father. My mother died very young, the result of all of the illnesses she developed, we believe, from malnutrition. And I was thirteen at the time. It was, tragically, like, a month before for my bar mitzvah, which, as you can imagine, was upsetting to everybody. Supposed to be joyful and not be half in mourning. But my father and I continued to live with my grandparents. And then my father, about a year and a half, two years later, married -- a woman way far away -- one building away. And I had to make the 7:00choice, and I chose to go with him. The food wasn't as good, but the freedom was much greater. And I realized: I'm gonna get away with a lot more stuff if I live with him than if I stay with bobe and zeyde [grandfather].

CW:And your grandparents were from which parent? They were your --

PB:My mother's.

CW:Your mother's?

PB:Yeah. Yeah. I never knew any paternal grandparents. My father was born in Nuremberg, raised in Paris. His father died when he was very young and he was raised by his mother, who died very young, and his stepfather, who was a mean, autocratic man. I met him. He was a mean guy. And my father never got over the sort of anger and bitterness. But he was really isolated in terms of family. He had one half-brother from the union of his stepfather and my mother [sic], and 8:00that brother immigrated to Israel. He was actually in the Seabees -- kind of a war hero, came back from the Seabees, lied so that he could use the GI Bill of Rights to study architecture in Palestine (laughs) -- really what he did was, he joined the Haganah and became a fighter for Israel, and then eventually married. But that was my only other relative.

CW:And in the home growing up, was it a frum [observant] home?

PB:Zeyer frum, zeyer frum [Very observant, very observant]. Up until thirteen, I went to shul three times every day, without exception. I'd get up and I'd lay tfillin. I would be there for minkhe [Jewish afternoon prayer], mayrev [Jewish evening prayer], and shakhres [Jewish morning prayer] every day. Then when I was thirteen, my mother died, and it really gave me an opportunity to sort of break away, and I picked up with the less desirable elements of the neighborhood and 9:00became a not nice boy -- and very un-frum, very un-religious -- much to my grandmother's consternation. I have a vivid image of her running after me in the streets, chasing me, 'cause she saw me in a pizza joint with my friends eating a piece of pizza. And she knew that that was not a kosher piece of pizza, right? She started chasing me through the neighborhood, and she caught me -- she was very fast. (laughs)

CW:What type of shul did you go to?

PB:An Orthodox shul. She was very Orthodox, and, like many people of her genre, she had beliefs that were very strict, highly based on superstition. She'd come up with something and say, "M'tur nisht dos tin -- You can't do this." And I'd 10:00say, "Why?" Or, as our teacher says, "Vi es iz geshribn [Where is that written]?" And she'd say, "Oh, it's in the Bible." She made up stuff that no Bible has ever conceived of. But she used that as a way -- she believed it; I don't think it was deceitful -- but she had all of this mixture of belief in the toyre [Torah], mixed with mysticism, mixed with shtetl mythology, and she used that to wield a pretty tight ship -- until I escaped.

CW:Do you remember any of the superstitious beliefs that she had?

PB:Yeah, sure. For example, she was a clean freak. She would clean everything -- which is partly, I think, my punishment, as I married a woman like that now who does the same. But, you know, I'd come home, and she'd be washing the -- we lived on the second floor; she'd be on her knees, washing the steps outside the 11:00ground floor, the first floor -- everything had to be clean. And I took a bus to high school. It was a 15-minute bus ride. And one day, I forgot my books, so I came home unexpected, opened the door, and there was my grandmother, sitting in a chair. I had never seen the woman sit. She was like a scurrying mouse. She was always cleaning, doing, cooking, baking. And I was shocked. I said, "Are you ill?" She said, "No." And I said, "Well, why are you sitting?" She said, "M'tur nisht tin kayn arbet ven emetser furt [You shouldn't work when someone is traveling]." And what she was telling me is, since I went on this voyage, my ten-minute bus trip, it would have been bad luck if she would have done anything that could possibly be construed as work. And then all the other examples were usually ways to keep me from having fun -- that was the main motif.

CW:Do you have any particular memories of favorite yontoyvim [holidays] as a kid?

PB:Favorite what?

CW:Holidays or Jewish rituals that as a kid you enjoyed?

PB:I don't think so. I mean, I didn't not enjoy it, but everything we did was so ritualistic and so prescribed, I don't remember it as joyous; I remember it more as dutiful. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't like, Oh, wow, here's Yom Kippur, I get to not eat. (laughs)

CW:And what about food? Were there special foods that (UNCLEAR)?

PB:Oh, yes. Food was the big thing. My grandmother, because my mother almost starved to death -- literally -- my mother died -- never had a hair on her head as a result of malnutrition. As a result, my grandmother over-worshipped foods, 13:00and particularly baked goods. So she stuffed me. Typically, for breakfast, she'd make oatmeal, a couple of eggs, a piece of bread. That seems like enough for most grown people -- and I wasn't grown yet -- and then milk and a piece of pie. And why would I turn it down? It smelled so good. She just made it. And then I'd say, "I'm going to school." And she'd say -- she wouldn't say; she would stuff cookies into my jacket pocket in case I got hungry on the way to school. School was two blocks away; I had just had eighteen thousand calories -- no chance I'd get hungry. But guess who ate the cookies on the way to school? And ever since then, one of the legacies is, I have a little meshugaas about food, and I have to be very careful -- very careful, because if I ate just the way I was 14:00programmed, we wouldn't be sitting in one room; we'd need a room and a half. So food was very special. And all of the dishes -- I loved them. I mean, of course, she killed meat -- Jewish meat is not known for its great epicurean values, and the chicken was boiled to death. But I loved the dairy dishes. And sour cream -- sour cream with everything. I'd put it on oatmeal. I mean, that's -- although I do it with yogurt now, so maybe it's not so crazy. But -- chopped liver, chopped eggplant salad -- I loved all of those things. Food was very important to me -- overly important. And I loved what she made -- particularly the dairy. The meat dishes were not to be remembered.

CW:And what about the community that you grew up in? You mentioned it was 15:00Italian and Jewish, and that you couldn't tell the difference between them. What were relations like between the Jewish and Italian populations?

PB:It was normal and natural. I played. My goal was to get out of the apartment as soon as I could to go outside. We played every sort of game only New Yorkers ever heard of -- slug (laughs) and Johnny-on-the-Pony and all kind -- I loved being in the streets. And we played. Most of the kids were Jewish, but there were Italians and a couple of Irish kids. Discrimination was not even a concept to us. Discrimination was a concept to some other kids, because I rarely left the house to go to school from the age of six or seven on and didn't have somebody hit me -- rarely. And they would always say, Mata Criste, Mata Criste 16:00-- Christ killer. And then they would interview me: "Oh, you're the one that called my sister a bad name." "I don't know your sister. I don't know -- what are you t--" -- it was a pretext conversation as a prelude to hitting me -- until I figured it out. And so one day, the usual three guys -- they weren't the same, but there were always three -- came over to me and -- called me over, actually, and I went over to them, and I walked up to them, and without a word, I hit the guy in the face, and we went down, and I kicked him in other places. And that was the last time I ever got attacked. I don't know what the communication system is, but the word was out: Don't do this to him anymore. But as I said, the neighborhood became more and more dangerous later. And part of my disaffiliation from being a good kheyder-bokher [religious school student] and a 17:00nice little Jewish boy is, I started associating myself with some very not nice people. And that was another phase of my childhood. It was not pretty and not to be bragged about.

CW:So you went to kheyder?

PB:Of course.

CW:Who were your teachers? Were they from Europe?

PB:Yeah. Some were, and some were not. The one I remember most is Yossele, and the reason I remember him the best is, he was a small, little guy with the biggest goddamn stick I have ever seen. It was kind of like -- more like a pointer, but my hands used to bleed when I came home. He'd come by and whack us and whack us. I'm not sure it's the best pedagology [sic] -- I'm not sure it's the best way to treat kids, either. But I remember him that way. And the other teachers were more -- I mean, they were very frum. Mr. Dinnerstein never used a 18:00blade on his face. He had no beard, but he shaved every day -- or every few days -- by taking a tweezer and pulling out every hair on his face -- because m'tur nisht [you shouldn't] -- there was some prohibition that I don't know whether it was a bove or a bobe-mayse [old wives' tale] or whether it had some other origin, but you're not supposed to take a blade to your face. So he would take -- and do this thing -- I mean, you have to really believe intensely in that to put yourself through that. I mean, I can hardly stand shaving; I can't imagine plucking my face every day or two or three. But they were great teachers, and I didn't mind going to kheyder. I didn't like getting hit, but that was part of the program, right?

CW:Looking back on that part of your childhood, were there ways of being Jewish or values that you felt your grandparents and parents were trying to instill?

PB:Oh, very definitely. I mean, one of the main values, and one that has lasted for me, is tsedakah, the giving of charity. And it's interesting, 'cause I married a woman who was non-Jewish -- she converted, but she didn't start Jewish -- and her concept of generosity and tsedakah and taking care of less fortunate people is developed better than anyone I've ever seen. So I got lucky, because it's a value of mine, and I've been outshone by my wife. But that was one of the main values. And learning -- learning was another. I mean, we were Yiddish in 20:00our culture. We spoke only Yiddish -- only Yiddish in the house. But my grandmother early on said to me that, "You better learn English, and you better learn it good, boy, because you've gonna be a success, and in this country, you have to have English." And old as she was and set in her ways as she was, she went to night school to study English so the two of us could do homework together. So getting ahead, education, was a tremendous value. And an interesting story: when I went away to graduate school -- I went to Michigan, which was quite a shock to my family -- and they were very poor people; my grandfather was a house painter and they were very frugal and very careful and never spent on themselves -- and she gave me something like five hundred dollars, which -- we're talking about 1957 -- was a fortune. And that was for 21:00tuition and for living until I got a job. But she wanted to make sure I didn't lose it, so she sewed it into my underwear. So I had a secret pouch. And I remember going to Michigan State and I got into this large auditorium where people are registering, and I stayed on line -- in line, on line, as we say -- for a long time, and I finally got up to the desk, and I finally got my classes, and she said, "Fifty dollars" -- or, "Forty dollars." And I said, "Oh, I need some scissors." She said, "What do you need scissors for?" And I said, "Well, I can't pay you unless I have scissors." So she looked at me like, you know, Here's another crazy guy. She gave me a pair of scissors. I ran into the bathroom, did my alterations, pulled out money from my underwear. So I remember that (laughs) very carefully. But she was right, 'cause nowadays, I'd probably lose it.

CW:How did your family react when you rebelled against the traditional (UNCLEAR)?

PB:Well, it drove my grandmother crazy, as I say. She wailed. She wailed like somebody died. She would follow me and chase me. I had to be very sneaky to get away. But as I said, my father married maybe when I was fourteen and a half, and going with him got me away from that. So she didn't have the control; I didn't have to live in mortal fear that she would catch me and humiliate me in front of my gangster friends. (laughs) So that was the breakaway for me, and it was a breakaway from an orthodoxy that I experienced as -- how would -- like, I'd call it anti-hormonal. It was (laughs) against everything a young guy wants to do. He wants to have fun, he wants to tuml [kid] around, he wants to eat whatever he 23:00wants to eat, he wants to start chasing girls or hopefully catch one once in a while -- and those were things I wasn't gonna be able to do if I stayed with my grandmother. But again, I moved one house away. So listen how clever -- I had all the freedom of my father, and I could go next door and eat. Perfect.

CW:And are there specific sayings that you remember in Yiddish from your childhood -- you know, things that maybe your grandmother or your parents would say?

PB:Hm. Interesting. Well, one thing my grandmother always said was, "Zindik nisht [Don't sin]." Do you know -- have you ever heard that expression? Don't complain about things -- and I think it's a superstitious thing, because if you zindik and you complain, God is gonna get really angry, and he might punish you 24:00more. So, "Zindik nisht" was one of the common ones. "Kim esn [Come eat]" was the main one. I heard that many, many times a day. (laughs) And my grandmother baked five days a week. She'd get up at four thirty in the morning and bake. And when I would wake up, the aroma of fresh breads and cakes permeated my life. And just to zoom forward for a minute, at some point, my grandmother came to live with Judy and I in Oakland, after my grandfather died, and we had to buy a house -- which we could ill afford -- that had two kitchens -- (laughs) which would typically mean a house that had maid's quarters. So we finally were able to do that. She had her own place to cook and be during the day, and she came into the main house at night to sleep. And she still -- she would still -- I would catch 25:00her shtifn [stuffing] cookies into my daughter's (laughs) hands. I would catch her -- she would hide in the closet -- "Shh, zug im nisht, zug im nisht [don't tell him, don't tell him]." But it was always, "Es, es, es [Eat, eat, eat]." And, you know, the technical term for it is, it pissed me off, but if I really think about it rationally, how could she be any different? It would be impossible for her not to be. So it's my job as an adult -- is not to join up with the pathology, right, but to also not be angry about it.

CW:So, moving forward a little bit, were there any aspects of your traditional upbringing that remained important to you, even as you became an adolescent and went to college?

PB:I would say -- I can't think of any traces, but if you go forward a little 26:00more to adulthood, I think the concept of mishpokhe -- the value, gift -- of family -- my grandmother would have died for me -- literally. And so, I mean, this is how we feel -- Judy and I feel about our kids. They are number one in our life, so that -- that tradition. As I said before, the concept of charity and doing good things, and if you have a little money, you don't just pet it and look at it, but you spread it around a little bit to do some good things. So to me, those are -- I'm sure it's not exclusive to Jews, but for me, it's Yiddishkayt.

CW:Before we move on from your childhood, I want to ask you about WEVD and your role on the Yiddish radio program. Can you tell me about that?

PB:Yeah. When -- for some reason -- and I can't remember the connection -- I really don't -- it kills me not to know, but for some reason, when I was eight years old, I was solicited to be on a radio program on WEVD. And that program lasted for a year and a half. It was a Jewish soap opera, and it was called "Dray doyres" -- "Three Generations" -- in Hebrew, "Dray dorot." And I would go every week and rehearse my lines. It was on Tuesdays. And so I'd be on the radio. And I liked it. I'm a very hammy guy. I'm not shy -- well, I'm shy, but I'm hammy. And from there, I segued into more performance. So I spent my youth summers in the Catskills. I worked as a busboy, as many Jewish kids did; a waiter; I was a salad -- head salad man for a year. And of course Jewish theater 28:00in the Catskills was a big thing, so I started doing some stand-up comedy on the side. And then at some point earlier, I started to act in the Yiddish theater -- the Windsor and some other theaters. And I had the same agent Paul Muni, a famous old Jewish actor, had. Her name was Pearl White. And I did some of that. And I think that ended because my family was against it, because it looked like it was going to distract me from school. Remember, education, vocation, success -- more important than being a tumler [comic entertainer].

CW:So the Catskills -- what do you remember from that scene?

PB:Oh, I remember working very hard. Get up every morning at five o'clock to get the tables ready and prepared. Working breakfast 'til about nine, nine thirty. 29:00Then an hour off. Then coming back and setting the table, serving lunch to the hordes of people whose main goal in life was to eat more than you had -- so I knew these people very well. And then have maybe two hours off in the afternoon for resting. Then come back about four o'clock, prepare for the evening meal, setting the tables, putting out foodstuffs, and then serving the hordes, and then cleaning up. Finish about seven thirty -- Jews, and especially old Jews, eat early, right? So we were through at seven thirty. And then my goal in life was to find girls. And instead of resting, I chased women -- with varying degrees of success. Went to bed late. Didn't need much sleep. But that was the greatest time in my life. And I would make enough money so that, for the entire school year, I was fine -- even though I worked as well. I always -- I worked 30:00from the time I was nine years old. I never not worked. And now I hear people say, You're so old. Why are you still working? And I'm saying, "You're so young. Why did you stop working?" I mean, what kind of question is that? I work because, you know, I work. But working hard has always been instilled in me. And it's not surprising to me. Again, I hate to keep going on the same theme -- that I've -- without thinking it out, I chose a wife who also has the same work ethic, who loves work, who loves studying, who loves education, who loves the scholarly aspects. And I think both of us are gonna work until they carry us out. And I hope they put some cookies in my pocket, 'cause it's a long trip. (laughs)

CW:Were you involved -- was there a political bent that you grew up with?

PB:No. In the general neighborhood, it was not uncommon -- the Bund, the Workmen's Circle, Zionist groups, but none of that -- I've become very political -- very political -- as an adult. I have a lot of strong feelings, a lot of affiliations. But it wasn't -- we were not those people. But around us, many, many people in that area, in that neighborhood, were -- and particularly socialists and old lefties. It was, you know, communist, or variations of that. But that didn't touch into our family.

CW:So I'd like to talk about some other things, but can you just give me sort of a snapshot -- you've mentioned your wife and your kids, but can you just give me 32:00a snapshot of your adult life -- your career and family situation now?

PB:Yeah. As I alluded to, I was a bad boy in high school, and I was thrown out of high school for having done some not nice things. So it looked like I was finished. My best memory is, after -- well, when I came back to school after being thrown out, I somehow got lucky and got an English teacher who saw something in me and really brought out interest in learning and pulled all kinds of strings -- all kinds of cards he took in to get me into City College, which you had to have good grades for. My grades were crap, but he got me in. And I went to college. And my goal was to go one semester, get all A's, and then go 33:00drive a truck, so that if anyone in their life ever put me down for not being college educated, I would tell 'em, "Hey, I went, and I got all A's." (laughs) "That's easy." And I forgot -- I forgot I was supposed to stop after one semester. You know, it was sort of test-taking time, enrollment time, and I suddenly found myself going through college. And in the same kind of mindless way, I got into psychology -- not thoughtfully, just sort of segued, and I was about to graduate and somebody said, "What are you going to do now?" And I said, "I'll go work." Well, you can't work with a bachelor's in psychology. So I said, "What do I need?" They said, A master's. And I said, "How long does that take?" And they said, Two years. I said, Well, I might as well do that. And that's when I went to Michigan State. And then halfway through my master's, someone said, "You can't get a good job with a master's. You need a PhD." And I said, "How long does that take?" "Oh, about four more years." If someone had told me early 34:00on this is what I was gonna do, I would have said, you know, Check me out. I'm gone. But I sort of got into that, and I remember -- I remember this very painfully -- and maybe I shouldn't even tell you this on film, but -- not painfully; I remember it joyfully, but the story is painful -- after I got my PhD, I went back to high school. And there was a geometry teacher who one day told me to stand up in front of the class, and she says, "Everybody, I want you to look at Paul Berg. Paul Berg is a failure. Paul Berg is gonna be a truck driver" -- the worst thing you could wish on anybody -- (laughs) I like driving trucks, by the way. When I got my PhD, I went back to high school, and I was walking the hallway, and I saw Ms. Wittie, I don't know, twenty feet away, and I yelled out, "Ms. Wittie, Ms. Wittie!" And I yelled it out loud enough so everyone looked around -- purposely, I did that. And she said, "Who are you?" 35:00And then she looked at me -- it was seven or eight years later -- she said, "Oh, Paul Berg." I said, "No, bitch! It's Dr. Berg." Not a nice thing, but it sort of sealed it and gave me a coda -- a coda for this. But eventually I became a psychologist. That's what I've been doing now for -- well, my first job after graduating was death row in San Quentin. I stayed there for a year, got out, went into private practice in 1964, primarily treating people. But I was very interested in the legal system, 'cause I'd been exposed to that, of course, in San Quentin, and so eventually I became a forensic psychologist, which is what I still do. In fact, this April, I think it's forty-nine years of torturing lawyers.

CW:And you are married and have children?

PB:Yes.

CW:And when you became --

PB:Excuse me, I'm married for the second time, I should say. I married a woman I met at Michigan State, and we were married for thirteen years, and things didn't work out, and so got divorced. I met Judy, and my grandmother found out that she was nisht yidish [not Jewish], (laughs) so she wouldn't talk to her and wouldn't talk to me. So I think it lasted about a year that she wouldn't allow me even to come to the house. My grandfather used to meet me secretly so we could get together. No one ever did anything confronting my grandmother; they did it on the side. And then as she got to meet Judy and realized that she converted, they became tight and fast. In fact, I'll tell you about my grandmother -- I remember 37:00this -- when I was probably nine, ten years old, my grandfather had one brother -- and that was his whole family that had survived Europe. And his brother and his family lived in Pittsburgh. So he announced to my grandmother one day that his niece was getting married and they have to go to Pittsburgh. And my grandmother said no, and my grandfather said yes, and my grandmother said no. So of course they didn't go, 'cause she ruled -- she ruled. And then one night he told her he had to get a pack of cigarettes -- everyone smoked then -- he ran out of cigarettes -- so he went to the corner store for cigarettes and came back five days later. He wound up in Pittsburgh. But that was the only way you dealt with her. You couldn't argue with her; you couldn't change her; but you just did what you had to do, and you paid for it later, I guess.

CW:So when you became a father, what type of Jewish household did you create for your children and your family -- your own family?

PB:I would say somewhere between "Jew-light" (laughs) and Jewish -- with my first wife. We went to shul, but we went to shul ceremonially -- Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur. We sent the kids to kheyder so that they would do that. My son got bar mitzvah; my daughter rebelled and refused and went out on that. And then, of course, I married Judy. And Judy became more frum than I was, or my first wife. 39:00She studied with a rabbi. She lobbied to make the house kosher. I won that battle, 'cause I didn't want to be kosher. But I'll tell you, you know, people define Judaism in various ways. I always think of Judaism as a neshume [soul] thing -- you have a Jewish soul or you don't. You don't have to be Jewish to have a Jewish soul, but that's what Yiddishkayt is. And Judy is the quintessential Jew. But we were never heavily observant, but we went to shul the usual times. We sent our kids to kheyder. We sent them to Jewish camps, including Judy's first son, who's not Jewish -- he was born from her first marriage -- although he lived with us from the age of two years on, so hardly a stepson. But with the exception -- and even he went to the Jewish camp. So it 40:00became just sort of the environmental taste of our home. But we're still not observant Jews. For myself, my main -- I have two attractions to Judaism -- or two pursuits. One is Yiddishkayt. That's why I'm here. I love the language. I love being around it. It makes me feel like home. And the other is Israel, which, I feel, is the only salvation for the people of Jewdom.

CW:And were there any recipes -- your grandmother was still alive as some of your kids were growing up, but were there any traditions from your childhood home that you tried to sort of recreate in your own home?

PB:I don't know so much that as I do know that while both my grandmother and 41:00grandfather were alive, both with my first wife and then subsequently with Judy, we went to their apartment in San Francisco every Sunday. And the kids talk about what they ate there to this day -- the kashe varnitshkes [bowtie pasta with kasha], the chopped liver -- all of those things really -- you know, talk about cardiac -- gastronomic Jews -- that's really in their program. Judy bemoans the fact that she couldn't get bobe to properly teach her (laughs) to make things. She made some efforts, but, you know, like many people, "Bobe, what's the recipe?" "Oh, you take a little of this and some of that." And it's hard to translate that. So we don't, in our house, really make much, with some exceptions, of Jewish dishes. But I love Jewish food. But remember, only the 42:00dairy products. I have no fond memories of flanken [flank (meat)] (laughs) or destroyed chicken.

CW:So I'd like to ask a little more about Yiddish and Yiddishkayt. First of all, though, there are many ways that people define "Yiddishkayt." So for you, what does that word mean?

PB:For me, "Yiddishkayt" means the heritage of Jewishness. And we were talking about it this morning. I have such strong feelings about Israel -- intense feelings. Judy and I serve for the Israeli army, when we can, for three weeks; we work for them. I mean, it's very strong for me. But I don't really have any, I want to say, genetic memory of living in the desert. But when I come to Vilna, even though my grandmother didn't tell lots of stories, this is what I think of 43:00as Yiddish -- the community. The professor was talking today -- the shul is not a place of worship; it's temple -- we call it temple. It's communal. It's getting together. It's being with other people. I think the language is terrifically important. And it really, really upsets me -- 'cause you hear this cliché always: Oh, it's a dying language, isn't it? And I want to say, Over my dead body, it's a dying language. There are people out there doing things to keep it alive -- in fact, to make it even more lively -- as within the Yiddish Book Center. I mean, that's my attraction. I met Aaron thirty years ago and fell in love with this man, because he was saving a part of my culture. So it's a cultural definition. It's a way of life. And the language is a medium for me -- 44:00only because that's what we spoke. So if I walk in the street -- rarely -- and hear someone speak Yiddish, I want to go over and say, you know, You're my family. I feel like it's family. And they don't have to be Jewish. "Yiddishkayt" for me means the essence -- I guess that's what "kayt" means -- the essence of Jewishness, which are all the things we've been talking about: the traditions, the foods, the values, the humanism. All of that goes into the concept of what Yiddish means to me. And it's precious and it's valuable. And I would fight for it.

CW:So you mentioned meeting Aaron Lansky. So how did that come about? When did you first become involved in the Yiddish Book Center?

PB:I don't remember how it came about, but I remember we learned of it, the idea appealed to me -- because Yiddish -- and Judy and I -- you know, I'm not exactly 45:00sure -- I want to say twenty-five years ago or so -- went to Amherst, long before the current great facility was. It was kind of much more primitive. We lived in a dormitory. I used the ladies' room, because that was the only one in that dormitory. And we took classes -- I took a class in Yiddish. We put on a production. Judy -- the scholar one -- loved all the historical lessons and the lectures on what the origins of Yiddish as a language were. And that sort of imbued us. And we've been supporters in various ways of the Yiddish Book Center since then. And again, I don't want to do hero worshipping and I don't want to embarrass this guy who blushes easily, but he is, in fact, to me, a hero.

CW:And how often do you use Yiddish today?

PB:Very often. Three years ago, when Judy retired from the university and we moved to San Diego -- she then failed retirement, of course, so -- she was a total bust at it, so she's back professorizing -- but when I moved to San Diego, I found a vibrant Jewish community. And every Monday night, I go to a group --- "Di yidishe grupe [The Jewish group]" -- it's a bunch of old Jews like me. And we sit around for three hours, and the rule is, you speak Yiddish. And if all of sudden someone lapses into English, then there's an uproar -- a gevalt. And, of course, it finishes with a big meal -- which I think is part of the draw (laughs) for some of the people. For me, it's not, 'cause I don't eat some of that stuff. But we sit around and we speak Yiddish. And then we have a dear 47:00friend who knows Aaron for many years. She's a Yiddish teacher, and she has a once a month group at the JCC, where a different group meets. And we put on plays and we sing songs. So my Yiddish usage has exponentially increased ever since I left the Bay Area, where there are probably more Jews. But there's a very vibrant Jewish community -- mostly Spanish-speaking, which was interesting to me, and it has some historical reasons. But -- so, just a very interesting group of people. And of course, we -- I say we speak Yiddish -- we don't speak Yiddish; we argue in Yiddish. We argue all night long -- about politics, about news, about where the best restaurant is. Without arguments, we'd have nothing to talk about.

CW:And you've talked about what Yiddish -- how Yiddish connects -- is important to you -- the language. What is it that you like about the language itself? Is there something aesthetically that you like about it? Or --

PB:Well, I mean, I'm tempted to say what I hear other people say: it's so rich idiomatically, it's so expressive. I'm not sure that's really truer than other languages, although you hear it all the time. For me, it's simply familiarity. It's like, if you immigrate from some place and then you go back to that country and things are familiar, you feel at ease. It's heymish [cozy]. I see some of the older ladies here -- the woman that lectured today and Fiona -- and boy, I think -- and they're not as old, but I think of them as my bobe. It just feels 49:00-- it just reminds me. It's my tie to the past. Yiddish is my tie to the past.

CW:And looking at your children and the next generation, what do you notice that's different about their Jewishness compared to yours?

PB:Well, it's something that worries me, actually. None of my children speak Yiddish -- much to my dismay, and much to my guilt. Why would they? I never -- I didn't realize it and didn't foster it. Certainly, my oldest daughter has an extremely strong mishpokhe ethic and loves the foods and loves to hear about it and is constantly pumping me -- she does a better job than you -- pumping me for information about bobe and zeyde and the background. And, you know, I fail her, 50:00because I don't know very much. But it's very important to her. And my kids identify as Yiddish -- even Judy's son, who is literally not Jewish -- he has a warmth, I think, for it, as well. It's not, you know, clear, but he couldn't have not been influenced, having grown up and lived with us. How much will that be diluted further? That's my concern. 'Cause that generation -- my children -- is diluted. I can't help but believe that their progeny will be further diluted. And, you know, if I can't make it happen for them, that's part of the Yiddish Book Center, that's part of belonging to groups, that's part of keeping -- you know, who said, "Keep hope alive"? You remember? Keep Yiddish alive -- that's my 51:00theme. Keep Yiddish and Yiddishkayt alive.

CW:Well, I know that you have strong attachments to Israel, as you mentioned. Do you feel any place in what they call the language wars, the culture wars, between Hebrew and Yiddish?

PB:No, I don't feel any pull. I mean, I understand that Hebrew is the language of Israel. No one asked for my vote. This is what people speak. That's cool. It always drives me crazy when I go there and I can't find a Yiddish speaker. But, you know, I have the same feeling about that, Christa, as I do about the very religious -- the Hasids and all of the others. I don't identify with them. I 52:00don't like a lot of their values. A lot of it is repugnant to me. But I admire them, I extol them, I prize them -- only because they carry forward the true, traditional -- not just Yiddish language, but the belief system -- things I don't do. They are the flag bearers of that. So I honor them, even though I don't live like them. So I honor Hebrew. It's not a cultural war. When Israel was founded, they had a long discussion. What will be our national anthem? There were a number of candidates. "Hatikvah" won. What will be our national language? There were a number of candidates. They rejected Yiddish, for very clear reasons. They said they didn't want Yiddish because it was a proste language, it was a peasant language, and they wanted to elevate something, and it was also a language associated with the Holocaust, which was a memory to be remembered but 53:00not to be lived. So, you know, I have no quarrel with that. I don't think Israel has to perpetuate the language; I think we have to perpetuate the language. I don't put it on them. And it's not conflictual, to me.

CW:Since you mentioned the Holocaust, and in America and, I think, all over, that the Holocaust plays a role in the understanding of Jewish identity today, for you personally, what impact, if any, has the memory of the Holocaust had on your sense of Jewish identity?

PB:Well, a number of things. First of all, I told you, I have a twig of a tree. It's not only because father was a single child and mother was a single child; it's because the total extended family was murdered. So I was deprived of 54:00cousins -- and all sorts of other relatives. So that's a legacy -- a negative legacy, but it fashions how I think. The other -- I must tell you -- and this is not a popular view with a lot of my friends, but I'm gonna be very frank with you -- it makes me understand that I am not safe in the world outside of Israel. Now, do I really think that America is gonna turn on me the way Germany turned on the German Jews? I don't really think it will happen. I really don't believe it. Do I think it's within the realm of possibility? You bet. I don't think there's any place that guarantees -- guarantees, not inclines -- guarantees the eventual survival of the Jew, unless the Jew has a homeland. America has been good to me. I love America. I have strong patriotic feelings. I pay my taxes 55:00dutifully. And I stand up when "The Star-Spangled Banner" is -- but Israel is my people and my country and my land. Even without Yiddish.

CW:Sorry, I lost my train of thought. (laughs) Oh, I wanted to ask you about travels. And we're sitting here in Vilna, and you talked a little bit about sort of nostalgic feelings that have come for you, but can you say a little more about what it's like for you to be here now?

PB:Yeah. It feels home to me, even though it's not. My grandmother may have never walked the streets of Vilna -- likely, didn't. But you know what? This is 56:00the closest I'm gonna get. (laughs) And I just hear "Vilna" -- I don't even say "Vilnius" (laughs) -- I hear "Vilna" and I feel like in some ways I've come home, though I have no memories. I don't think there are any memories. But it's close enough for government work.

CW:And you're involved with the Yiddish Book Center, of course, but what do you see the role of both the Book Center and other Yiddish organizations in keeping -- in sort of the future of Yiddish and the transmission of Yiddish culture?

PB:Well, I think the single most important thing is the transmission, proliferation, and growth of Yiddish in young people. I told you, I thought it was a bit of a cliché to say that it's dying, but every cliché is a cliché 57:00because it has some truth. And if we cannot -- people my age, who will not be around for many, many years -- if we don't work on programs to capture the spirit of Yiddish in young people, where will it go? So the books have been collected. There really are no more books to collect. The digitalization is a wonderful legacy that ensures permanence. We don't have to worry about an air-conditioned, temperature-controlled warehouse. (laughs) It's in the clouds. S'iz in di luft. It's fine. But -- for who? Who is gonna be interested in it? Who is gonna want to get on the net and look for that instead of some viral YouTube narishkayt [foolishness], unless we capture the imagination and the 58:00enthusiasm of a whole new generation. And I think that's a big part of what the Book Center has realized, and it's a very important issue for me. In our group in San Diego, that's what I've been lobbying for, is to try to reach out. And we have some plans. We're going to go to the Chabadniks, because at least they have young children (laughs) who are Yiddish. We are going to try to use putting on plays, because we think in the JCC, we can get parents who will want their children to do some performance, and performance is an engaging vehicle -- and through that, we will sneakily get them to speak Yiddish. So, I mean, you have to be creative, and you have to have some energy, and you can't just sit around and schmooze with some other old Jew. That doesn't go anywhere, Christa. It feels nice, but it doesn't go anywhere.

CW:Great. Well, I have a couple more questions, but is there anything else that 59:00you wanted to be sure to say about these topics?

PB:How grateful I am that you're doing this. I love the project, and I love you for your work in it. I'll be very personal with you -- the fact that you're not Jewish-born and doing this warms my heart, because it's so much more -- it's such a volitional thing, it's such a choice thing and not a lazy, I was born a Jew so I know how to say some Jewish curse words. So this kind of work and your contribution to it are just -- I'm just filled with gratitude.

CW:Thank you. So, given what you've just said about your own efforts to keep Yiddish going, do you want to take a leap of prophecy and sort of -- do you have 60:00ideas of what the future of Yiddish may hold?

PB:Yeah, my fingers are crossed. I wouldn't make a prediction. I mean, hope is not supposed to be based on possibility; hope is supposed to be based on aspiration. I aspire and hope for this. Would I predict it? I told you before, I'm frightened. I'm frightened about dilution. I'm frightened about diversion. I'm frightened about people becoming interested in other things. I can't give you the prediction -- only the hope.

CW:And I wonder if we could close with an eytse, with some advice. Do you have advice for future generations about all of this?

PB:Yeah. An eytse? Let's see, I'll give you an eytse. Love your family and 61:00embrace Jewish values -- that's my eytse.

CW:Nu, a hartsikn dank [Well, thank you very much].

PB:A sheynem dank far dir [Thanks very much to you].

CW:Thank you so much.

[END OF INTERVIEW]