My father died in 2003 at the age of, well it was listed as 94, but when we talked about when he was born, he was never quite sure. He could have been 96 or older, I don’t think he really knew or even cared. He was born in the town of Volin, in the Ukraine which was close to the Polish border. The family fled with very little money to the United States when he was two. His father John, mother Rose, and his older brother Leo. When they first arrived, they lived in the “Hell’s Kitchen,” section of Manhattan. Then the family moved to the “Brownsville,” section of Brooklyn, just north of where I grew up. His father died comparatively young from phenomena. When his brother married, he was left supporting his mother, and had to drop out of Boys High, High School. Somehow during that time, he learned to play the piano, and became quite good.
Given all that, he was a hard worker, always finding work, especially with his brother. They painted houses, apartments even the interior of Russian Orthodox churches, those big onion dome buildings that were in Russian/Polish neighborhoods in Brooklyn. Even though he lacked the formal education, my father was always interested in a vast number of subjects. He studied history, philosophy, literature, psychology, and of course various sciences. He wrote, drew, painted, and practiced the piano constantly. To say he was industrious, was to say he was lackadaisical.
Harry was always wanting to learn some skill, something he could translate to earning more money, to benefit the family. He was also an adventurer, wanting to accomplish things for his own benefit, and to join causes, for other people’s freedom, and rights. For instance, he was fascinated with flying. He thought of becoming a wing walker, that is the guy who attaches himself to the top of a bi-plane as it does it stunts, twists, rolls, dives, and other acrobatics at air shows. My mother put a stop to that. The other thing he wanted to do, which she stopped him from, was to go off and fight in the Spanish Civil War.
I always assumed that during the depression when everybody was struggling, that of course so was my father. Then from stories, and conversations with him, and some of his friends, it seemed that it couldn’t have been that difficult. There were two stories which would prove that. First there was the fact that during the depression, because of his love of aviation, he belonged to a flying club. They owned a three-seater airplane, and were flying out of “Barron Island Airport,” in Brooklyn, which was later to become “Floyd Bennett Naval Air Station.” The club lasted until the plane crashed, killing an instructor, and a member. The next story was that one-day Harry happens to see, and then buys, a custom-made Stutz Touring car. It had twelve cylinders, with those big spare tires mounted in the fenders, those big headlights, and a double windshield for the passengers in the rear seat. It was built for a movie producer who went bankrupt. Even on those terms, it couldn’t have been very cheap. My Mom, and Dad with his best friend Morris, and his wife Edith, would drive into Manhattan, and cruse up and down Fifth-Avenue, in this very expensive car. So here I was, confused about my Father, a laborer, surviving the depression better than the majority of Americans. How could this be? Until I learned that, the ever-industrious Harry, found out that if he could learn how to use a sewing machine, he could earn about one-hundred dollars a week. A huge sum for that time. Of course, he continued to learn new skills, expand his mind by studying different subjects, and trying to make the best life for his family.
To sum up Harry, my father, I would have to say, here was a man, self-educated, a skill-orientated man, with a love for learning. Unfortunately, he always thought of himself as a failure, mainly because he lacked the formal education he wanted. He always said of himself that “he was a jack of all trades, and master of none.” Recently I came across a quote by Mark Twain who said, “I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.” I think that fits Harry better.
