The National Yiddish Book Centre - A Story of Determination and A Lot of Dusty Books

The sad fact was that Yiddish books were no longer being published. There was no call for them and the Yiddish language itself was often seen as representing a past that many Jews in America wished to forget. In the case of younger Jews, Yiddish was often perceived as having no relevance to their lives whatsoever.

After fruitless searches at local book sales, rare book dealers, and mail order companies, Jules Piccus suggested finding Yiddish books by travelling to New York’s Lower East Side where Jewish immigrants had originally settled. It was an idea that would lead Lansky and his fellow searchers on a journey into the heart of Yiddish culture, described in his book with great humour and poignancy.

The hunt for New York’s Yiddish books began in the spring of 1975 with a few friends and a borrowed van. Unsure of where to start, they stopped to eat at the Garden Café in East Broadway, There they got talking to enthusiastic, elderly Yiddish speakers who pointed them to bookshops where Yiddish books might be found.

It was chance encounters such as this that were the lifeblood of the search and would eventually result in thousands of books coming their way, and a thousand stories to go with them.

Through word of mouth and in-the-know contacts, the books began flooding in. They came from Jews whose relatives had passed on and whose books were stored in attics and cellars.

Typical was their very first collection from Mr Levine, a bookseller on Eldridge Street, New York, whose cellar was home to a hundred Yiddish books all owned by his father. He gave his books freely, knowing they would be cherished. (On the left you can see Eldridge Street Synagogue.)

Other younger donors gave books to free up space in their homes. Understandably, they could not appreciate why the Yiddish books had meant so much to their deceased relatives, but were reluctant to put them in the trash.

Elderly New York Jews donated their precious volumes, offering endless plates of food and regaling the youngsters with stories of their lives. It was heartbreaking for them to part with the books, but at the same time a relief to know that through their donations their language would somehow be remembered, their cultural collective memories preserved.

There were many years of driving the length and breadth of America collecting Yiddish books, working long hours for little pay, rescuing books in the nick of time from dumpsters, demolished buildings, libraries and even, sadly, a building blown up by terrorists.

Books also came from old Jewish settlements overseas. A trip to Europe would lay bare their own fragile past, lending deep meaning to their vocation.

The result of all this effort, and the tireless search for funding, has resulted in the development of the prestigious National Yiddish Book Centre, a beautiful building in the grounds of Hampshire College, and home to over 1.5 million Yiddish books.

The entire collection, with the support of Stephen Spielberg, has been digitalised and can be accessed online. Yiddish books have been distributed to universities and libraries worldwide and many Yiddish titles have been translated into English.

With the enthusiasm of youth and the single-minded tenacity of maturity, Aaron Lansky and his friends have proved that, as Isaac Bashevis Singer said, upon receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature for his writings in Yiddish, “Yiddish has not yet said its last word.”

Sources:

• (1) Outwitting History: The Amazing Adventures of a Man Who Rescued a Million Yiddish Books by Aaron Lansky (Algonquin Books, 2004)
• National Yiddish Book Centre website.