CHAYT FAMILY HISTORY BOOK

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To the best of our knowledge the people in the picture are, from left to right : --------------------> Click on thumbnail picture to see (bigger) PICTURE The Golub family ( 66,869 Bytes)		1. Moishe -- married to Golda Golub, Bubbe's sister -- he was killed by Cossacks ca. 1919 2 Their son Kseal 3 Mima Golda - Bubbe's sister 4 Their daughter -- name not known 5 Bubbe's mother, Leah Golub - died 1932 age 90+ 6 Another daughter - name not known 7 Bubbe's father, Golda's husband Avrum Yitzchak Golub - he was killed by Cossacks ca. 1919 at the same time as Moishe 8 Girl on floor a family friend -- name not known we believe that all the others were victims of the Holocaust at Babi Yar in 1941.

Bubba's (Clara's) older Sister, Bella, first married Simcha Chayt. She died in childbirth as did the child. Simcha then married Clara in 1887.

Younger Sister, Golde, married Moishe Finerman. Had three children. One son (Kciel) and two daughters. Last heard from in, 1941.

Youngest Sister, Anneka, married Yankle Stchedroff. Henri, their first son was born in Sept. 1907, died January, 1986. They migrated to France from Ukraine. Their second son, Simon, born April 8, 1914, Paris, France. Their third son, Benjamin, born April 20, 1916, Paris, France has remained there.

Henri married Jeannette Shyko. They had one son, Marcel. Henri served in the French army during World War II. After recovering from a wound in his leg, he and his family escaped to the U.S. in 1942. Marcel received his education in the U.S. Continued post-graduate courses in England where he met and married Vivian. They have two sons, Neils and Marc, and currently reside in Oxford, England where Vivian teaches in a private school (music). Marcel teaches Philosophy at the University of Belfast.

Simon married Fanny Czukrowitz, cousin of Jeannette Stchedroff. They had one son Albert. Simon was placed in Concentration Camp by French Police in Paris during the German occupation. He was in Drancy. Fanny, Albert and her mother managed to escape to Casablanca with the help of the French Maquis (underground) crossing France and the Pyrennes and Spain mostly on foot and in hiding. Fanny and her mother have since died.

Benjamin injured his vertebrae, when family ran for shelters during the first World War II. This injury left him a hunchback and stunted his growth. He remained in France and joined the Maquis. He married Yvonne and has a daughter Josette. Josette is married and has a son Jacques. She lives in Grenoble. Benjamin and Yvonne now live in Yonne, France.

Grandfather Avrum Yitzchak and Uncle Moishe Finerman were killed in the doorway of their home during the Russian Revolution. Grandmother Leah died in 1932 in her 90's.

Benjamin, (Feter Benny) -- Avrum Aba's oldest son married Leah (Mima Leah). Their children were Aaron, Harry, Willie, David Abe, and Faygel.

Benjamin emigrated to the U.S. about 1910 and Leah followed with her children before World War I I.

Shaindle, (Mima Shaindle) -- Avrum Aba's daughter married Munich. They had a son Yitzchak, history unknown, and Sarah, known as Bobka, which is an endearing name short for Babale. She married Lyeva known as Joe. They had two sons. One son, name unknown, was killed by the Cossacks. When they hid under the bed, the blade got him. Moonkie (or Max Schaifet as we knew him, and his mother emigrated to the U.S. in September 1923 in the rush to beat the quota deadline. Coincidentally the same day Clara and her children landed in New York on the Paris. The SS Paris docked at Pier 57 French Line and they at Pier 58 Cunard Line. They sailed on the Leviathan of the Cunard Line. Joe became very successful during the Prohibition Days. They had their own home in Brooklyn. Their son Maxie married Rose and had two sons. The oldest was Edward, the younger son name unknown. Max was the owner of a Bar until his death in the late 1970's in New Brunswick, New Jersey.

Faygel, Benjamin and Leah's daughter, married Ziska Dinep. They had three children, Harry, Sarah, and Al. Sarah, known as Sally, married Herman Nerenberg in the early 1930's. They have two children. Always kept to themselves. Harry Dinep married Lillie. They had two children. Martin and Addle, raised in Brooklyn (Bensonhurst). Martin studied medicine in Switzerland and became a practicing surgeon in Hartford, Conn. He married Kathy in Switzerland and have three daughters. Adele married Seymour Remz of Port Jefferson, N.Y. They now live in California and have two sons and one daughter. Harry died July, 1986. Al Dinep, the youngest, lost his wife soon after the loss of their only son. He has moved to Lauderdale Lakes, Florida. He married Eva Mendelowitz Besen, May, 1986.

Aaron -- married Pauline. He died of cancer a year or two after they were married. (no children)

Harry -- married Idie. They had two children, Mitzi and Irving. Harry was a successful shoe manufacturer in New York. Moved to California where they currently reside.

Willie -- married Fanny. He was a barber, also a gambler. They had two daughters, Gertrude and Jean. They had a son Benjamin who died at the age of 3.

They lived in Peekskill, New York. Willie and Fanny have died. Gertrude now lives in Fort Meyers, Florida, and Jean is still in Peekskill or Mt. Kisco, New York.

Abraham, known as (Abe der Klurer), married Fanny. They had two daughters and one son. Lillian, Gertrude and Dave. They live in Philadelphia. Abe died long ago. Fanny died in 1985 in her 90's. Lillian married Benny Wolfberg. They had a son Joseph and twin daughters. Benny died of Alzheimer's Disease in 1985. Gertrude is a widow for many years. She has two married daughters. Dave is married and has two daughters.

David, (Doodle), Fetter Benny's youngest son married Eva. They had two children, Martin and Harriet. Dave was a widower long before he died.

Fetter Herschel, Simcha's twin brother married Mima Freda. She was a sister of Ethel Chayt's (Dave Chayt's wife) mother. They stayed in Russia, their fate unknown. They had three daughters and one son. Their daughter Anna (Chanka) and their son Abe (the meshigener) came to the U.S.A.

Manya Hoffman Wasserman -- her mother nee Chayt. First cousin to Simon Chayt. Manya was born in Lisinka, Russia. She and her brother Harry arrived in the U.S.A. July 1923, leaving a half-sister and mother behind. They settled in Coney Island with their Aunt Ckhassi Chayt Hoffman. Manya's mother and Aunt were two sisters who married two brothers. Manya married David Wasserman and had three children, Eleanor (Ellie) who married Ed Layton and had three children (two girls and one boy), Estelle and Jerry.

Harry Hoffman married Beatrice and had three children, Arlene, Brother and Jack. Beatrice died at age 50 soon after bearing Jack who is now 32. Arlene died in the fall of 1985 short of her 50th birthday and Brother died July 1986 short of age 50. Harry remarried to Ray. They live in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn.

Fetter Herschel, Simcha's twin brother married Mima Freda. She was a sister of Ethel Chayt's (Dave Chayt's wife) mother. They stayed in Russia, their fate unknown. They had six daughters, Anna, Paula, Nadia, Rosa, Fanny, and Betty; and one son, Abe. Their daughter Anna (Chanka) and their son Abe (the prankster) came to the U.S.A. The others remained in Russia, and probably some are still surviving!

Anna married Leon Matros (a Latvian). They had two sons, Abe and Benny, and one daughter, Esther. Anna died of cancer about 1960. Leon died 1985. Abe married Molly. They have three children. Benny was married more than once. He has five children. Esther married Jack. They have two children. Abe married Ida. They have two children. Sylvia, who married Sidney Fleisher, and Nathan, who married Anita Appel. Nathan and Anita are the parents three children. Stephan, born Sept., 1952, who is now married to Charlene Wakfield. Stephen and Charlene have two daughters, Danielle, born June, 1987, and Lindsay, born in July, 1990. Nathan and Anita's daughter, Patricia, was born in March, 1955, and married Richard DeCosta. Their son, Adam, was born in March, 1985. Nathan and Anita's youngest child, Jeffrey, was born in February, 1959. He is married to Jennifer Tinniers. Abe died many years before Ida. Sylvia They had a son Marc and a daughter Karen (I believe).

Photos: NOTE: THE PHOTOS REFERENCED BELOW ARE TOO LARGE FOR THE WEBSITE - SEE REFERENCE STORAGE FOR ORIGINALS

Additional maps of the (ex) Soviet Union and in particular of Ukraine and the vicinity of Kiev

``I remember the years during the 1st world war, although I was very young I recall the air raids, etc.

``One Friday night we were having our supper, and of course the candles were lit; as we sat down the sirens sounded, the planes were coming, and so my father made us all go down into the cellars across the street from our house. He did not want to leave because it was Sabbath and the candles were lit. I remember looking up at the window to see my father looking up at the corner of the black-out curtain to make sure we all had gone in for cover. I will remember it till my dying day.

``We went to Tours in 1917 for one year. My sisters Berthe and Marie worked in the army factory making uniforms. I remember many American soldiers coming to our house, and our door was always open to them (of course, they liked our French girls). P.S. They were all Jewish boys.

``We returned to Paris in 1918 -- by that time I was going to school. The school was run by the Rothschild family, and it still is today. On the way to school, I remember seeing the destruction of the building blown half away, beds hanging over, etc. I can never forget it.

``The bread lines, we had to stand and wait for a handout, but we all managed. We shared with others what we had. ``My parents were always very generous, and as little as we had, we always had enough for strangers.

``My father would meet someone in the synagogue and bring him over to our house for a meal and a place to sleep. These were strangers who had come from another country, and my parents always managed; we never turned anyone away.

``I remember one night -- we had been to a Purim show, and coming home, my father carried Pauline on his shoulders, and we all hurried back home before the raids.

``I remember one Christmas Eve, although we don't observe the holiday, my sister, Mary, would make us put out our shoes near the fireplace so that when Santa would come she would say, ``Go see what Pére Noel left you, and, of course, she had put a doll in each of our shoes.

``It was the custom to put the shoes at the base of the fireplace for whatever gifts.

``We did not have running water in our house. We had to go down in the courtyard to get water from the fountain to use. Also the toilets were in the courtyard. 'Just like the lives of the rich and famous!

``We had to take our laundry to a public place and wash in a tub by hand. Then the owner would put it in a very large vat and dry it (no washing machine).

``I remember, 14 Juillet (14 July). It was a three-day holiday. It was Bastille Day. They would put up a band at the corner of the street and they had games and dancing, no traffic, we did not have cars yet, at that time. At night we would go to the cafe and watch the fireworks and dancing, of course.

``Our leaving Paris was very sad because we left behind our mother's sister and cousins.''Although we were happy to go to America to rejoin the rest of the family, leaving part of us behind was very difficult.

``Our trip to Americas was a great adventure to us. Perhaps at another time I will write it down as I remember it on the S.S. Paris.

``I almost forgot to say that in 1916, there was a flu epidemic, and I had very bushy hair, so my sister, Mary, took me to the barber and had my hair cut to prevent any ticks or whatever what was believed to cause the disease. I had a boy's cut. That was before we left for Tours.

In Tours, the American soldiers were stationed around our house and they would give candies, gum, etc., when they saw us on the street.

Thinking back on the apartment we lived in, on Rue de la Mare , and comparing the luxury apartments in this day and age in the United States, it really is hard for anyone to visualize what we had in Paris.

Try to visualize walking into a kitchen with a coal stove, no running water, no cabinets, etc., a small table in a corner with a pitcher and bowl to wash in.

The dining room, which also served as a bedroom at night, consisted of two large benches, a makeshift table, consisting of two horses and one large board for the top, and four chairs.

The bedroom with a double dresser, marble top, a fireplace, and one double bed, plus a folding bed behind the door was where Estelle and I slept. Then Pauline joined us when she was too big to sleep with Mama and Papa.

In 1922, we had electricity put in the apartment. I remember it was on the dining room near the kitchen; it was a white round enamel piece: The switch was in the center.

When we went to school, we had to take a dish and spoon and fork, because we had lunches served to us. I had a cloth bag that my mother made, so that I carried my utensils in it. I also carried Aunt Pauline's -- she was younger, so it was my place to look after her.

On the way home from school, we would pass a bakery and stop in; for 1 penny (1 sou), we would get pastry crumbs in a paper cone. (It was so good.) We still remember the taste.

I was born in Nikolayev, Russia, on the first day of Passover in 1910. We (I) left Russia that year at the age of six months to rejoin my father and brothers in Paris, France, where they had settled a few years earlier.

We first lived on Rue des Amandiers #36 where (1912) Yvette was born; we later moved to Rue des Amandiers #88 where (1914) Pauline was born. We moved again to a larger place -- this time to 49 Rue de la Mare , where we stayed until we came to the United States of America. At this apartment, which was elegant by the standards at that time, we had as follows:

A store on the street level, a cellar (where Zaida used to store stuff), plus 3 rooms upstairs, a kitchen, a living room (in the daytime, a bedroom at night), and a regular bedroom plus an attic on the second floor, where we stored lots of oldies and goodies). (Zaida also loved to make pickled watermelons and make kosher wine for the holidays.) We had windows in every room and a window in the hallway leading to the attic so that we had cross ventilation. The kitchen faced the courtyard where the janitor and his family lived. Opposite was the bakery warehouse where the baker kept his flour and chopped wood that he used in the bakery in front of the house. In the rear (sort of center) was the outhouse (male and female), not fancy but practical. Also there was the water pump, our only source of drinking water. Farther back were two more apartments occupied by the family Gerlach and family Meunier. Their children were about the same age as we were and we got along beautifully with them. (Never a sign of anti-Semitism, since they were Catholic and we were Orthodox Jews.) It was rather difficult to be friendly with them because, in France, the kids went to school on Saturday. They had Thursday off, where we went to a Jewish school five days a week and off on Saturday and Sunday. The school we attended was sponsored by the Rothschild Family and was named after one of theirs, "Ecole Baron Lucien de Hirsch,'' where we were taught Hebrew, as well as a regular French curriculum.

In 1914, when Germany declared war on France, our two older brothers, Maurice and Jacques, enlisted as volunteers in the French army, for what they thought would be a better life for all of us in France. In 1915, our parents received word that Maurice had been killed in action in the battle of Arras in northern France; his body was never recovered. After the demise of Maurice, Zaida, in 1916, decided that the adults in the family had to be evacuated to the U.S.A. So Anna and Sarah, with their respective spouses, and Abe Schulman, who was born in Paris in 1915, arrived in the U.S.A. and established themselves in the Bronx, in the City of New York.

In the meantime, things in Paris became very rough. The Germans (Boche, as they were called) had threatened to put Paris under siege. They had developed a huge cannon that we called the ``Grosse Bertha,'' and it could fire shells very far from the front. We were bombarded quite regularly. At that point, Zaida decided to pack up the family and (like the proverbial Jew), we again wandered, this time to Central France, in the city of Tours, on the Loire River, where we stayed until the armistice was signed in 1918. Our Aunt Anna, Uncle Yankel, and two of their boys, Henri and Simon (Benjamin at that time was in a Catholic hostel in northern France, because he had been hurt during an air raid as a very small baby). Benjamin is our only surviving cousin; he still lives in Paris. Aunt Anna and Uncle Yankel settled on a small farm about 14 Km. away from Tours, in a small town called ``Jeer des Tours.''

I remember Zaida taking me along for a walk to go and visit them; it was a perfect day for walking thorough the country. We stayed there for a while, I had a look around and enjoyed myself with my cousins. We had a nice walk back, and that started my walks and my explorations.

Another time I decided to walk to my aunt's house all by myself. On the way, I picked and ate all kinds of berries that were growing all over the countryside. When I got there, I had a tremendous belly ache and my aunt made sure I got rid of it before going back home, and gave me some regular food to eat on the way home. Another time, I discovered a pond full of frogs, so my cousins and I went fishing for frogs. The ground around the pond was very slimy, and boom, I slipped right in and came out all green. What an experience. I didn't go to my aunt all alone after that. While we were in Tours we had to go to school. It was several kilometers from our house and we had to take a tram halfway. But since we couldn't afford the tram fare, we hitched rides on the back of the tram. One day the conductor chased us off and I fell flat on my face, broke a front tooth, and had a bloody nose. I was a mess. My brother, Henri, who was with me, picked me up and shoved my face under a street fountain. I got soaked and dried up on the way to school. Another time on the way to school, something different happened. The American Army decided to set up a staging area on a tremendous field, one that we had to cross to reach our school, so Henri and I got curious and watched as soldiers were playing ball with a big stick and big gloves, hollering all the time. One of them hit the ball very hard, toward us, so Henri ran after it, and caught it bare hand. It took a long time for him to get over the hurt -- the awful slam he got in his hand. We didn't go near that place again.

I remember going fishing in the Loire River with my brother, Henri. We got some tree branches, bent some pins and attached them to the strings we had, and tied them to the sticks, but all we ever caught was a lot of fresh air. I remember my parents inviting a few American soldiers to our house for a Sabbath meal; how happy they were.

Now, we're back in Paris, same store, same apartment, same address. The streets of Paris became my playground as I was growing up. I walked, ran, used the subways, hitched the tram when I could; I was always on the move. I remember the canals running across Paris into the Seine River, the canal locks opening and closing to allow the boats to navigate through the high and low areas. I liked to walk across the catwalks, very narrow boards on top and across the locks' doors. I would cross on tiptoes and improvise in order to get to the other side. I was always looking for short cuts.

I remember the street fairs on the Boulevard, the clowns, the wheels, the swings, the merry-go-round. I was there meandering around, taking it all in, the excitement and feeling so grown up.

I remember going to the ``Jardins des Plantes'' (Botanical Garden), ``The Jardin des Tuilleries," and The Louvre. We were on a field trip with one of our teachers. I could not take my eyes off the beautiful things that I saw and learned there. I was much too young to remember all the things I saw; some were more vivid than others.

We lived one block away from a railroad called ``La Ceinture,'' which means the belt, like our Beltway in Washington and the Belt Parkway in Brooklyn. This train was a commuter train that ran around Paris (so, you see, things then were not much different than they are now in 1994). My friends and I would climb the walls around the entrance so that we wouldn't have to climb all the stairs (and there were many) to get to the other side, again taking short cuts.

We lived on the hilly north side of Paris, and we always tried to circumvent the hilly street as much as possible, especially after I went with Bubba (after Zaida had left to go to America) to a place she had on the open air market to sell such things as surplus American Army goods (dry goods), also sheets and pillow cases, towels, etc. and a lot of my old comic books that I used to save. This hill ``Rue de Belleville'' we could not get around, so we climbed pushing the old rented cart. Paris was surrounded by many moats and huge walls with several entrances that were built many centuries ago to protect it from invaders. We went to the entrance called ``Porte des Lillas'' (Gate of the Lilacs), went through and set ourselves up on the grass. We stretched a large sheet and put all the merchandise on top and waited for customers. It was an all-day affair. It was also a day for me to go exploring until it was time to pack up and go home; going down hill was much easier.

I remember being confirmed at the age of 12 in a huge synagogue on the Rue de la Victoire. It meant that I had finished the preliminary studies in Hebrew and was now ready to start studying for my Bar Mitzvah. I remember being a choir boy in a Sephardic synagogue, very orthodox. It was a huge, elaborate place, stained-glass sky lights and polished mahogany throughout -- the pillars, the seats, the balconies where the women sat, and marble floors in the lobby and on the stairs. I remember people taking their shoes off before entering the sanctuary. There were two cantors, Mr. Malka and Mr. Mendis and the Chief Rabbi of the Sephardim, Rabin Weiss, all dressed in full regalia. Upstairs on the fifth floor was the choir with 12-15 boys, an organist, and the conductor, who was Mr. Etienne Monteux. He was conductor of the Paris Grand Opera. (He was my mentor in music; he invited Bubba and me to his house, which looked like a palace. It was a wonderful visit and experience.)

Incidently, his brother was Pierre Monteux, who conducted the San Francisco Philharmonic and the Chicago Symphony Orcherstras in the USA for many years. He asked me to look him up, but who could get to San Francisco or Chicago?

I remember Cantor Malka teaching me the portion of the Torah I was to recite, and also the Haftorah for my Bar Mitzvah. I remember the day of my Bar Mitzvah. My mother and my sister, Berthe, were the only people that came. They had to sit upstairs on the balcony in the ladies' section. After the ceremony and the blessing by Rabbi Weiss under his tremendous tallis, my mother and Berthe threw packages of candy and raisins from the balcony over the men sitting below. They scared half the congregation. I don't think the Sephardim did things like that; we do this in our Ashkenazi congregations.

I remember that after services on Saturday, once a month, we were invited to go to the mansion of one of the bankers to receive a shiny one franc piece as a reward over and above what we were getting paid as choir boys. I remember going to the ``Galleries Lafayette'' after services, a well-known department store, where I would ride the elevators and the escalators, which were a brand-new novelty. I brought home balloons and candy for Yvette and Pauline. I remember being sent home from the synagogue on a Saturday because of an air-raid alarm. We had to run down to the subway and run all the way in the tunnel. I was all of seven years, and my brother, Henri, who was with me, made sure that I was right behind him. Henri was also in the choir until he became 13, then left to find regular work. I remember walking through the famous ``Pere La Chaise Cemetery'' to see the beautiful sculptures that abound there and the graves of very illustrious French men and women, such as Voltaire, Moliere, Alexander Dumas, Victor Hugo, Madame Curie, and so many more I can't remember.

We know that our Aunt Chana and Uncle Yankel are buried there in the Jewish section. ``May they rest in peace.''

Now we come to America. In September, 1923, we arrive on the ``S.S. Paris'' in the City of New York, Pier #57, on the Hudson River. We cannot get off because the ship is quarantined; somebody on the ship has a communicable disease, and the ship has to be decontaminated. We moved to another ship on the other side of the Pier and we wait a few days. Then they sail us on a ferry to Ellis Island for clearance, as we already had been vaccinated and immunized in France, we breezed right thorough and back to the Mainland.

Zaida, who was a good provider, had secured a seven-room apartment in a beautiful area called Coney Island, a famous beach resort for middle class people. This apartment had a private bathroom, running water and a large kitchen, four bedrooms, living and dining room, also a porch on the outside. ``We went out on the porch and saw the world.'' The seashore was two blocks away, a clean beach and a wide boardwalk. This was paradise. We registered in Public School #80, where we were put in a foreign class to learn English. After six months we were moved upstairs to a regular class. One year later, we moved to the East New York section of Brooklyn, and so was transferred to P.S. #174, from which I graduated in 1925. Went to Thomas Jefferson High, then we again moved back to Coney Island. I then went to James Madison High, and in 1926, left school to go to work. I apprenticed to a sign painter in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, on Christie Street, near Delancy. I received $8.00 per 48-hour week, and had to travel by subway for more than an hour each way from Coney Island.

I later got myself a job in Coney Island, not far from home, for $18.00 per week, kept climbing until the depression in 1929. Work was hard to come by. I managed to get free-lance work as a sign painter on and off and managed fairly well. In 1933, I married Sylvia Kaplan, whom I had known for four years. She worked for her uncle and I kept on my free lancing until I got a two-week job in Gimbels New York Department Store to work on their 92nd Anniversary Sale. When that was finished, they wouldn't let me go, and put me on the payroll. I later became Manager of the Sign and Printing Department. I left in 1946 to enter my own business of making signs, promotional advertising and displays, and progressed until 1972, when we turned it over to our son, Howard, as the new owner and operator, and are happy to know that his wife, Irene, their son, Paul, and daughter, Diane, are all working together, and hope that someday his son, Paul, will follow and keep the wheels spinning.

In 1972, Sylvia and I retired in a condominium in Florida in a place called ``Lauderdale Oaks.'' After three months of doing nothing, I became restless and again found work as a free-lance artist and worked until the age of 80.

In 1973, my wife, Sylvia, died suddenly, so after a very long and lonely interlude, I married Rose Bangel Stumacher in 1974. Now, after 20 years, life goes on, and I am, at the present, expecting to become a great-grandfather at any time. ``Mazel Tov'' in 1994.

My sister, Anna, was a beautiful woman. A big shot in the police, a head in the police, was sweet on Anna. I remember him coming in late one night, and he said: ``You've got to take Maurice out, anywhere out of Russia! They have caught a bunch of guys in the woods (training to shoot) and they took them down to headquarters, and then they found records in their place with his name.'' So, my parents got ready right away and they took him down to the train, and sent him off to France, to Paris. The policeman was not Jewish, and my sister wasn't interested in him. He fell in love with her. He used to come around.

The next eldest after Maurice was Jacques, then Anna, then came Sarah. Next came Berthe, then Marie. I come after Marie. I'm number seven. After me comes Henri (Harry). After Henri comes Estelle, then Jules, and then Yvette and Pauline. Pauline was number twelve. In Paris, Maurice worked as an operator in the shoe trade. He made the uppers for the shoes. He was a subcontractor and would bring them to the factory.

In Russia, my father was a cantor and a shoemaker. The only money he made as a cantor was at the High Holidays. After the services, they would put out plates for the various people participating. The rabbi used to take most of it. I remember my mother saying that the rabbi would sit next to the plate, and those sitting next to the plate get the cream. The rest get kasha and water. He made very little from it, but that was the life in Russia.

Of my grandparents, I remember my grandfather, especially. He came from the village of Rezhenik. It was not too far, but you couldn't walk there. The only traveling was by horse and wagon, that's all they had in those days. I remember when he visited us, he was a tall, husky man. My mother told me that in her family they lived to the hundreds. The men were very tall and husky. Grandma I remember faintly, because she came rarely. She was busy cooking and preparing things. Those were my mother's parents. My father lost his father when he was five years of age. His father was one of twin brothers. His brother was Herschel. That was Abe Chait's father. My father and Herschel had an older brother, Benny, who was the oldest. Benny worked in millinery. He was always a well-dressed man. He was a dancer. At weddings he would dance the kazachka, but when he finished, he couldn't stand up. He had a son, Abe, who was a very good dancer also. My mother's father used to do peddling, selling some stuff in the city. I don't know what. He was a well-dressed man.

In the house in Nikolaev, there was no electric. The only electric was in the streets. The lights had like two candles, and the electricity would light them very bright. Nikolaev was a big industrial city. There was a tremendous factory, that they called the French factory. Then there was a fire, about 1906, and the factory burned down. Transportation was by horse-drawn vehicles. The trolleys were drawn by horses. Sometimes they let the cars go empty to the depot, and we kids would take a free ride. I remember the cars running without horses. It must have been downhill.

Jacques was about two years younger than Maurice. We were about two years apart. Marie was born 1901, two years before me. Berthe was born in 1899, so that's four years; Sarah was born in 1897. Anna was born in '95, and Jacques was born in '92. Maurice was born in 1891. From '91 to '03, that's fourteen years. Besides my father, Jacques and Maurice worked in the shoe trade as operators. And then Anna and Sarah used to work. They had good schooling. There was in gymnasia (sic). It was a high school. I don't know if Jacques was so educated, but Maurice, Anna and Sarah were. Anna and Marie also went to school. I went to Hebrew school, for two or three years.

It was about 1910 when we left. Maurice already had left after the pogrom. Following him was Jacques. Then my father went. The rest of us remained with our mother. That was eight of us. Yvette and Pauline were born afterward, in Paris. Maurice sent papers for the rest of the family to come. From Nikolaev we went to the end of Russia there. I remember we had to cross a border. We walked across early in the morning. It was a border with Germany. No, from Russia we went into Poland, and from Poland we had to cross a border. In Germany, I remember a building with a wooden fence around it. There were a lot of refugees there. After the pogroms, a lot of Jews left. Parents would send away their elder children to save their lives. The Jewish people that were there used to peddle and deal with all kinds of products in the market. I don't remember how long that journey was. I do remember going into that house there and that while we were crossing, my mother had given me a kettle of water. It was so early in the morning. The sun was just coming out and it was getting daylight. I had followed the whole line. The kettle (``chienik'') was getting lighter. By the time we got there, they wanted water and there was no water in it. Inside of that house they gave us water, bread and cheese. From there, somehow they got the train and we went to Paris.

In Paris, my brother, Maurice, had prepared an apartment there. In Russia, Maurice and Jacques had been known by their Jewish names, Moise and Yankel. In France, they were known as Moses and Yaacov. When we came there, I remember 32 Rue Des Amandiers. You would go inside a yard and there were a couple of houses there. In the back, upstairs, I think there were 3 rooms. There was a very long room with windows toward the yard. When you opened the windows, you could see the machines standing there. And Maurice had 3 people working for him in the shoe trade. Like I said, he was subcontracting the shoes, and then they would put them together.

This was not where I lived. We did not live at 32. We lived at 36. There was a big yard with many buildings alongside the yard. On the side where we lived, we had to walk up a few steps. We did not have electric, but the better class did. My father, when he worked in the shoe line, used to get shoe polish. I used to go to a big house and he had the merchandise in his house, and they had steam radiators there. In our house, we had a mantel with a gas lamp. It would give out daylight, lighter than an electric bulb. It was like a metal that went up on top, and you could not touch it. If you touch it, it breaks. It was very thin. It would give out a marvelous light. We did not have electric or water in the house. Others had everything there. Of course, it was not as modern as here, but they had beautiful homes. I used to go in to him to get orders there for my father. Everyone trusted my father. He used to go out and peddle in the flea markets. He used to get a stand and sell. He used to get envelopes and papers. He would sell shoelaces. He did not sell shoes; he was doing repairing. He had a store. They used to come into the store, like here. He would fix whatever needed it.

And then he would go to the Schule. Every Friday night we would walk to Montmartre, across half of Paris. We walked across and came back by foot. Saturday, we used to go back the same way. My father was respected. We were the only Jews on our block. The street was Menilmontant, Rue de la Mare. Menilmontant was the name of the section. There was a street that was going uphill. ``Montant'' is going up. At Rue de la Mare, we had two rooms and a kitchen upstairs. There was a coal stove. Yvette slept in the dining room. Anna, Sarah, Berthe and Marie would sleep in Papa's store downstairs. They had a big double bed and they would sleep on the length. Sarah sometimes brought a friend, Leontine, to sleep there, too. They would come upstairs to have breakfast in the morning.

The older boys used to go out to work. I was 11 years old when I started working. There (sic) was when the First World War broke out. Before that I went to school, that was the public Jewish school, called Baron Hirsch de Rothschild. The rabbi from the Synagogue La Victoir was in charge of that school for the Jewish children. They would ``doven'' (pray) in French and Hebrew. One side was French and the other side Hebrew. The rabbi spoke Hebrew, not Jewish. I had no trouble learning French. I was always with the boys outside. In fact, a customer of mine here in Brooklyn, East 29th Street, had a nephew who had gone from Poland to Paris, and he wrote a letter; she asked me to read the letter, which I translated for her. This boy went to Canada, he came here for a while, and then went back to Canada. One day when I came, she introduced me to him, and said that I had read his letter. When I talked to him, he spoke French with a Polish accent. She asked him how I spoke, and he responded that I didn't speak like a Jew. Also, when I was in the Merchant Marine, it was French.

I was about fourteen years of age when I went into the Merchant Marine. It was right after the war, after the armistice, 1919. Maurice and Jacques were drafted in 1914. Foreigners were taken into the foreign legion. My brother-in-law, Abraham Mendelowitz, went into the army and was wounded in the war, also as a legionnaire. They wore khaki uniforms. Their friends wore blue, bluish grey. In 1915, on May 9th, they let us know that Maurice was missing in action. They didn't find a trace of him. My parents went to all kinds of places, but couldn't find out about him. The government sent a letter that ``your son is missing in action, and you can come collect fifteen hundred francs.'' My father said, ``When Maurice comes back, he will collect fifteen hundred francs.'' He did not want to touch the money. He still had hopes.

Abe Chait made himself a cripple. He would eat vinegar with lettuce and he would burn up his stomach. He ruined his stomach. He told us that when he was up at the front, and they would attack, he would drop down and make believe he was dead. So he came back, and he was all right.

Maurice was missing in action. At the end of Rue de la Mare, the street where we lived, there was a factory, an iron works. They made folding cots. My father went there to see about a cot. There he saw a young man who walked with a limp and spoke Yiddish. The man came over and asked my father if he was a Jew. They started talking, and my father asked him if he was wounded in the army at the front. When he said he was, my father asked him what regiment, and he said he was in the first regiment of the legionnaires. My father asked him if he knew Maurice, and he said that Maurice was his best friend. He told my father that they were together in the same attack at the front and they were the only two left alive, he and another fellow who was wounded, who helped us out. So, then my father knew he indeed was missing, but he never gave up hopes that he would come back. We found out from later he was dead.

After the older boys left, there was a French family in our building, a Frenchman, a socialist, who worked for Ballot. This was a company that manufactured airplane engines, ammunition, during the war. The company made both cannon shells and bullets. The machines were semi-automatic, and I manipulated a brass rod, and kept on eye on it, with water running on it to cool off the tool. When anything went out of order, there was a stick that I would move to stop the machine. I worked eleven hours a day, six days a week. Sunday was a day off. Every month we changed shifts, from day to night and back. After the war, everything closed up, although the factory converted to making motors. I went out and I found a job in a foundry. I worked as a helper. The foundry melted old coins down. Then I quit that job, and I went to work for a company that renewed old metal cots. I would strip off the old material, and, to get rid of the bugs, we put kerosene on and burned it. The frames were repainted, straightened, reupholstered and shipped.

I got tired of it, and there was no money. The whole family was starving and didn't really have what to eat. I figured that since I'm number seven, they wouldn't miss me. I would spend time outside the house. I was busy with the athletic club and sports, bicycling, running and roller-skating. I was always active outside, and would come home late at night. I would miss meals. My father said, ``No meals.'' Then my mother would slip me food on the Q.T. My father came out and saw me eating. He wouldn't say anything to me, but he would go back and give my mother hell, complaining that she was ruining the kids, that when he said, ``No food,'' it meant, ``No food.'' My father learned to speak French.

Afterward, with a friend, I went to Marseilles, to the Merchant Marine. I could not get a job, because I was not a Frenchman. But I was able to get papers illegally*, which I used, and I became a cabin boy in the French Merchant Marine. I worked in the kitchen and waited on tables. We shipped out of many ports, including the Caribbean. There I picked up some Spanish on the islands, including Cuba. When the ship came to New York, some of the family was here, and I was persuaded to stay when my ship left. At the time, Berthe and Jacques and Anna lived in Coney Island. I stayed with them.

*October: 1998: Evelyn (Chayt) Izkowitz recalls from her fond recollections talking to Dave Chayt;

He writes in his "autobiography" that he was able
to get "papers illegally," but doesn't mention how. Here is the story
as he told it to me:

He was thirteen years old and didn't want to make
Bar Mitzvah so he ran away from home and went to Marseilles to join the
Merchant Marines. Because he didn't have papers he couldn't join. Late
one night, while walking on the docks he saw a man being mugged. The
impetuous person he was, Dave went to the man's rescue. The man turned
out to be a wealthy and grateful person. To repay Dave for his kindness
the man offered to help him by giving him his papers and then would
claim he lost them. That is how Dave got his papers. Dave also told me
that he jumped ship and came into America illegally, but became a legal
citizen when Congress passed a law stating that all person entering the
USA before a certain date were considered legal. He felt very good
about that.

I am Lieb (Leslie), son of Esther (Estelle). It is 1994 and I live in Boston Massachusetts. I have a sister Annette who lives in Berkeley California. I am a first generation cousin in the Chayt family. I was born in Brooklyn, New York in April 1940.

As of this time a lot of you, my second and third cousins, have never met me. A lot of my third cousins probably have never even heard of me. I do not know all of you or that some of you are even out there! My sister's children who were born in California and rarely have been back east know hardly any of you or of your existence.

But if somewhere in your family tree there was a Chayt, and your great or great-great uncles and aunts grew up in New York City, then you and I and my sister and her children are probably related, descendants of the same two people, Chai Golub and Simcha Chayt, my maternal grandparents.

The original manuscript for this family history was written by (aunt) Pauline (Shernicoff) and her daughter Janet (Berman) who recorded the following information on a computer in 1986. A dot-matrix printout was distributed - as far as I know - to everyone down to the first generation cousins. You, your parents or grandparents may still have a copy of that document somewhere - perhaps you have even read it.

Several years ago, after my mother's death, I decided to take this effort one step further and produce a second edition using Pauline and Janet's text. Of course there have been many changes and some corrections that need to be addressed. Most important - however- I feel will be the addition of photographs and illustrations which, I hope will make it more likely to be looked by at the younger generations.

Obviously this is an ongoing project and I am appealing to all of you for help. Please send me everything you think might belong in a volume like this. If the response is good enough, I may even go forward in producing a third edition, highly illustrated and brought up to date. Please be sure to see my "Parting Words" which are at the end of the book.

It is hard to make an appropriate dedication for this book. There are so many to consider. First and foremost I must thank my grandparents, Clara and Simon Chayt, who are responsible for my being here at all. Next I thank my grandfathers' firstborn son Maurice for very likely saving their lives.

However I especially wish to dedicate this 2nd edition to my aunt Pauline on the occasion of her 80th birthday. Pauline who has always been an inspiration and is a very very dear and special person to me.

Finally, as I had originally intended, I dedicate this work to the memory of my mother Estelle, who died on December 13, 1990 and whose passing inspired the work.

After we are all gone, this will remain as the one complete record of the family. I hope it will be a worthy effort.

And so this is really my gift to all of you in the family who I know so well from Brooklyn to Florida and beyond, and who, in both the best and worst of times have been there for me.

I especially wish to thank cousin Ethel Brown for her kindness and personal attention during the time of my father Morris' illness and death.

I will never forget all of you - for the love - caring - and special affection you have given me. I hope you will enjoy this small gift I give in return.

Here now, is the beginning of the 1994 compilation or 2nd edition of the of the Chayt Family History, beginning with the earliest recollected knowledge of our common ancestors Chai and Simcha Chayt from the vicinity of Kiev, Russia.

I plan to publish this document in its entirety on my company domain (www.ctrak.com) on a private (password protected) website. This will make the entire book, as you are looking at it - accessible to anyone in the world who has a personal computer and access to a graphical web browser on the Internet World Wide Web. They will also be able to print it or parts they want at will.

I also am considering setting-up a family bulletin board on that same website which will act as a universal private mail service for anyone in the family database, or anyone with legitimate reasons to have access. If you don't know what this means please ask me.

Both of these are less difficult to accomplish than the production and maintenance of the actual database and the production of the printed copy of the book. The book is currently in FrameMaker(TM) Publishing software format and the database is being done in Family Tree Maker(TM) but compatible with all standard genealogical database software (this work is in a standard GEDCOM database). We have already printed a single family tree for the entire (as of 1994) family which in small print is over 6 feet long. We also have one for the Chait family who we are so far including in this database.

You will find a family by family section of the CHAYT family tree published as an appendix in this book. If possible the CHAIT tree will also be included.

The document itself (the publication file containing the words and pictures which make up this book) were transferred from Ventura Publisher to FrameMaker publishing software which, unfortunately, is not as highly interactive with other word processing document production software.

Anyone having the capability of running FrameMaker 5 or better (PC or Mac) who wants to help please let me know. I will help you get set up.

While entire sections or large paragraphs may be submitted in any word processing format, markups of the existing document must now be done in FrameMaker. Check with me if you are still interested and want to know more. Again, I will be glad to get any assistance I can in correcting, updating, and maintaing this book.

If the book is transferred to the Internet, then it will be in HTML which a lot of people have access to. This is why I am calling it a living document,

Once it is on the World Wide Web, any family member having my permission may go in and edit the document form where ever in the world they happen to be.

This technology makes such an undertaking relatively easy if there are enough interested capable people. You might take note of the fact that many competent publishers on the WWW are teenagers or younger. (We indeed have one in the Shernicoff family (he was a teenager when he started) and probably in many other families I just am not as close to as to know.

So each revision will have its limits and errors, and it will be up to interested parties to correct and submit new information, for now on paper or (preferably via e-mail) and hopefully, someday directly into the book.