Life in Paris

In addition to the original manuscript written by Pauline Shernicoff we subsequently received several additional manuscripts from Jules, Yvette, and posthumously, from Dave Chayt. Of course each differs in its particulars and details and each gives a different and fascinating look into that period of the family history. What follows are all four versions. Each is quite different and tells lots that the other's don't. Together they provide a wonderful look back to those years. Read all of them to get a really good sense of these times. - Leslie

Moishe Ber left Russia, Papa (Zaida) followed with Jacques. Then in 1910 Mamma followed with the rest, Anna, Sarah, Bassy (Berthe), Manya (Marie), Dave, Herschel (Harry), Esther (Estelle), Israel (Jules). They left Nikoliev by crossing the Polish and German borders with great difficulties. In Germany they were detained in a refugee camp until they could continue on to Paris. Dave and Harry were given assignments to help Mamma with the children. Harry had to learn a sentence in French. He memorized it and would make use of it when they reached France. When someone needed the toilet, Harry would approach someone and say "ou sont les cabinet?" (where are the bathrooms?). Dave was to be the water boy. He was given a kettle filled with water which he carried for their use.

When Moishe Ber reached Paris he was registered as Moise which is the French for Moses. Then his name became Maurice, the French equivalent for Morris. He became a sub-contractor, making the uppers of shoes. The business was very successful. The factory was located at 32 Rue des Amendiers in a residential courtyard.

Click on thumbnail picture to see (bigger) PICTURE

(107 Kbytes)
View of Rue de la Mare (photo from publication with pictures of old Paris)

Click on thumbnail picture to see (bigger) PICTURE

( 93Kbytes)
49 Rue de la Mare entrance as seen just before its demolition in the 1970's

At first Papa sold shoe polish, shoe laces, envelopes and whatever he could get on consignment. He was trusted by all who knew him. He sold his wares at the Flea Marked "Marche aux Puces." At 49 Rue de la Mare, the family had a store below the apartment. There Papa worked as a shoemaker, making new shoes and repairing old ones. All our shoes were made by Papa.

In Russia, the older children, such as Moishe Ber, Anna and Maybe Jacques too, were involved with a theatrical group. They all loved classical music. Some of their friends were Boris Thomashefsky, Aaron Lebedoff and Sholom Secunda, all from Nikoliev. Many of their friends went to the US where they became stars on the 2nd Avenue Jewish Theaters. Since our family went to Paris, their future was not the same. They all loved music and took advantage of the Paris Opera performances, waiting all night in line to have the opportunity when possible to see an opera. Moishe Ber had bought a Horn Victrola (one of the first record players widely available - it used no electricity and had to be wound up). It remained in our attic when we left for the US, however, the records that were played on that machine are unforgettable. We heard all the operas available, and as children we often hummed the melodies.

(CHAIT Marker) Use your browser search function to find other references to the Chait family throughout this book.

Then, the first World War broke out August 3, 1914. An opportunity to fight for democracy. Moishe Ber, Jacques, Sholom (married to Anna), Abram (married to Sarah), Abe Chait (papa's nephew) all volunteered and since they were not French citizens they were put into the Foreign Legion. Moishe Ber (Maurice) was the first to leave. He was sent to Arras on the Belgium border where he was killed May 1915. Abram was injured in Alexandria, Egypt. Doctors wanted to amputate his leg and he refused. He recovered fully enabling him to accompany Sarah to the US and marry her in 1916.

After the news of Maurice's death, which Mamma and Papa never wanted to accept, (he was one of the unknown soldiers), the rest of the boys did not go back to the army after their leaves (effectively being AWOL). Anna had already married Sholom and had their first child Albert, born March 21, 1915, the night the first German Zeppelin flew over Paris. They, together with Sarah and Abram and Jacques and Abe Chait all left for the US to join Fetter Benny's family already there. Jacques was joined by Jeanne and her mother who would witness their marriage in the US.

Her mother returned to Paris after the war. Dave was a very restless and adventurous young man,. In 1917 when the Germans almost entered Paris, they were stopped at La Defense, (where one now finds tall office buildings), just outside of Paris. Today it is a Corporate City with beautiful malls. La Defence was built so that Paris could save its old historic buildings and keep as much of its old beauty as possible. It was a tough fight, but the people won. The two Cities are as one, with a corporate building in La Defense built directly in line with, and built as an Arch, so that when looking straight up L'Avenue des Grande Armees, to the Arch de Triomphe, they both blend as one.

However, in 1917 it became uncomfortable for the people of Paris, (we had to run to the shelters every night and considered ourselves lucky to find our home intact while others had been destroyed). The family decided to leave Paris for a safe haven. It was Dave who was the first to leave and find living quarters for us in Tours, the city where the American Army was stationed. We lived on Avenue Nationale not far from the Loire River. Dave acted as interpreter for the Russian prisoners of War. Harry would collect horse manure to sell to the bakeries for fuel. The American soldiers would give us chocolates and candies. We would take the hard candies up to Mamma to use instead of sugar, which we didn't have. After arriving in Tours, living quarters were found for Mimma Annka, mama's sister, and her family in Jouer des Tours, a small town on the outskirts of Tours.

Mama and papa also found places for other friends and family who had left Russia to come to France. Our home was like the Wayfarer's Inn wherever we lived. Everyone tried to help one another but it was to our family that they always turned to for help. There was one family whose baby girl was gravely ill. Her parents felt that if mama and papa would symbolically adopt her in Schul that the child would recover. The ceremony took place and the child soon recovered. We have a picture of her in our album when she was a pre-teen in Paris. While they never did come to the US, in 1944, just before papa died, papa and mama received a wedding invitation from Paris to this girl's wedding. However, in order for her true parents to take her to the alter, she would have to be redeemed by them. Of course papa and mama were happy to do this for them. God only knows what happened to them in the Holocaust.

Education was very important in our family. When we were in Tours in 1917 to 1918 the school Estelle and Yvette attended was part of a church around the corner from where we lived. They attended classes only and were permitted to remain in the classroom until the religious services were concluded. They were not obliged to go to church. I, Pauline, being the youngest did not attend school then, but was permitted to visit them during the time that the Christian children attended services. I also joined them during their recess period in the school yard. Soeur Marguerite, the nun, would take me on her lap while the children played games so that I would watch.

At the end of the school year, in June, it was customary in France to have a "Jour de Prix". Prized (books) were awarded to Honor students. Soeur Marguerite presented me with a little Red Book about butterflies. It was left behind when we came to the States, but I still visualize it and how proud I was to have received it. The Spanish Influenza, the epidemic that has spread throughout the world, affected our family when we were in Tours. The only ones not affected were Berthe and myself. Fortunately everyone recovered fully except for papa who was left with an asthmatic condition.

After returning from Tours in 1918, after the Armistice, it was a difficult readjustment; very difficult for mama and papa. We were, after all, a large family.

During the first World War when food was very scarce and rationed, mama would get up before dawn and stand in line in front of la Bellevilloise. You can see it in the picture (View of Rue de la Mare circa approx 1920). Rue de la Mare and Rue de Savis (the sign on the store to the far left of the picture). She waited for whatever food she could get. Most of the food allotted was unfit for our family since we were strictly Kosher, but mama would distribute what she could to our Christian neighbors, who never forgot her good deeds.

The (wealthy) Rothchilds helped the Jewish people all year, especially on Passover Holidays. Mama would share some of the goodies and matzos with the neighbors too. The bread allotted by the government was inedible. It was ersatz. We called it "du pain kaka".
(S__t bread -ls)

I went back to Tours with Willy, my husband, in 1976. Then again with Fay, my niece, Jacques' daughter, in 1985 when we went to Epinal to visit Albert's (Ingy's) memorial, he being a casualty of World War II, another unknown soldier.

In 1989 Yvette and I returned and found many changes. (See A Photo Gallery of the Neighborhood below.) Tours had been badly bombed in the Second War. The Railroad Station however never changed. After the Armistice, the family returned to Paris. Our family was the only Jewish family on Rue de la Mare. Everyone respected us. We walked far to our Hebrew Day School and to the Synagogue, papa with his stove-pipe hat and long robe. The Paris we knew was originally called Lutece. The islands now known as L'Ile de la Cite and the adjoining island called Ile Saint Louis were protected by the Seine River from the almost barren land around them. The Roman Empire, however, invaded these islands and named them Paris after Parisi (Rome).

The first people forced to flee the wrath of the invasion were the Jewish people who lived in the ghetto of L'Ile Saint Louis, now called "La Vielle Jueverie" and no longer a ghetto. They crossed to the right bank of the Seine in the Marches "Le Morais". It is in the 3rd Arrondisement which goes up to the Porte Saint Denis and Porte Saint Martin. There were gates leading into Paris from the north. Walls (ramparts) had been built around Paris as protection from invaders.

These former gates are now seen as arches and remain there as historical monuments. The "forum les Halles" directly south of these gates, close to Rue de Rivoli in the Chatelet section is a beautiful shopping center, three stories underground and on street level. It is also a Metro stop. The land on which it stands was a labyrinth of streets, with winding intricate passages and paths. It was the home of the wholesale market in Paris called "Les Halles". Trucks could not enter through the narrow streets and passages and the market therefore had to find a new home.

In the 1970's "Les Halles" was relocated to the north-east of Paris in the area called "La Valet", near the "Canal Saint Martin" and "Le Basin de la Valet". They are an off-shoot of the Seine making the delivery of produce coming up on barges easily accessible to the new location of "Les Halles". The railroads are also nearby, such as La Gare du Nord and La Gare de l'Est, making transportation much easier.

Looking to the North-west of Gare du Nord you find yourself in Montmartre where the famous basilica "Sacre Cour" stands. Slightly southwest you will find La Gare Saint Lazares. This is where mama, Harry, Estelle, Jules, Yvette and Pauline and also Berthe and her husband Maurice Radofsky (Charles Alpert) and son Bernard all left Paris in 1923, heading for Le Havre. It was a sad farewell, leaving our beloved Mimma Annka behind.

This was the last time we saw her and Fetter Yankel, her husband. Her two older sons "Le Petit Henri" Stchedroff and his brother Simon were re-united with us (during the war for Henri and after the war for Simon). Henri had been a wounded soldier in the French Army and managed to join his wife Jeannette and their son Marcel in Toulouse after their escape from Paris. With the help of Jeannette's cousin, Charles Chizewer, who sponsored them and my doing the paper work through the "HIAS" they came to the States in 1942. Simon did not want to leave Paris since he believed that being born in France truly made him French.

However the Nazi influence on the French was unexpected. One morning on the way to the dairy and bakery he was stopped by a French gendarme. Asked to see his I.D. card, When they saw "Juif" (Jewish), they took him with them. He was sent to the concentration camp preparatory of transfer to Auschwitz. His wife, her mother and son immediately contacted the underground who helped them escape to Casablanca, through the Pyrenees mountains and through Spain. Simon was fortunate, a cholera epidemic broke out at the Camp and since he was on line for medication he needed for his ears, the camp ruled that all those on the sick line be released, and he left as fast as he could.

Also through the underground "Maquis" he was able to find where his wife and family were. Finding his way to Marseille, he went to Casablanca, rejoined his family and the same procedure was followed as we did for his brother, Henri and his family. Charles Chizawer was also a cousin to Fanny, Simon's wife. They were sponsored and arrived in the States in 1945. Benjamin Stchedroff (Mimma Annka's youngest) remained in France. He worked with the Maquis where he met is wife Yvonne.

The last time we heard from mama's sister Golda in Russia was in 1941, the year of the "Babi Yar" massacre. As for papa's family, his sister (Mima Schaindle's) daughter "bobka" Sarah Schoiffet and her son Max (Moonka) came to the US the same day we did, in September of 1923. Lyova (Joe) and Bobka (Sarach), an endearing name, had another son who was killed by the Cossacks swishing a sword under the bed where they were hiding. Fetter Benny (papa's twin brother's son Abe Chait and (Chanka) Anna Matros). Fetter Herschel and the rest of his family never left Russia.

We never knew them, but always had a strong family feeling. There were other distant cousins with whom we had contact. We were always a truly close-knit family.

Pauline writes: I am most grateful to Monsieur et Madame Ludi, a couple we met returning from our visit in 1961. Christmas of that year they mailed me this wonderful book of memories from my childhood. Now I can share some of those memories with my family.

Click on thumbnail to see full size picture
1	2	3	4	5	6

(21,336)	(47,680)	(16,099)	(47,743)	(66,722)	(73,369)

These photos are contemporary commercial photos taken from that book. They show the neighborhood where the Chayt Family lived and hung out during the years at Rue de la Mare. They are, of course, not necessarily related to the family's time in Paris, but apparently depict scenes that are still very much like it was in the old days.

1. Across the street from our house
2. Looking back from Rue de la Mare where it crosses train tracks behind our house
3. A back alley that Pauline and Yvette used as a shortcut to school
4. Synagogue de la Victoire - outside front
5. Synagogue de la Victoire - main hall
6. Synagogue de la Victoire - alter

The Paris Years as Recounted by Jules Chayt; 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 water melons 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.

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, Zayda, 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, Zayda 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. (Per 1994 - ls) Aunt Anna and Uncle Yankel settled on a small farm about 14 Km. away from Tours, in a small town called "Jouer des Tours.

``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.

``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.

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.

THE MAIN
TOC PAGE

THE PROJECT
HOMEPAGE

OR USE YOUR BROWSER'S BUTTON TO RETURN TO EXACTLY WHERE YOU WERE BEFORE

Maurice had prepared an apartment for the family at 36 Rue des Amendiers, where Riva (Yvette) was born. They then moved to 88 Rue des Amendiers where Perel (Pauline) was born. After about three months, the family moved to 49 Rue de la Mare where they lived until they left for the United States.
		Location of the apartment on Rue de la Mare in Paris*

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.
		Entering The Hebrew School "Ecole Baron Lucien de Hirsch," (contemporary photo)

THE CHAYT FAMILY HISTORY BOOK