Page 268 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text

Reminiscences

Joe was a little on the lazy side, my dad was hyperkinetic, but Abe
was a steady, slow worker; he kept plugging away, chipping away—
never rushed, never walked too fast. The relationship between the
three brothers was probably on a par for the nineteenth century. I
think their tough and gruff exterior was an adaptation to the Gentile
world of America. They could work with, and swear with, Mexican
laborers, but at home, inside the house, they were gentle men, real
cream-puffs. And no swearing was ever allowed inside the house.
Abe was always dressed in khakis. My father had that same fetish
of dressing like a working man all his life, and so did Uncle Joe—who
was tipsy for thirty-five years. Joe and his wife Jenny had a store at
First Street and Lorena, called Lopez Market. That’s where Joe
worked with his family, as a butcher, most of his life. He was always
happy because he was always tipsy; and the only thing he enjoyed was
fishing. He made his own fishing hooks and 1eaders, and every once
in a while he’d take the "P" car and a bus—or in those days it was a
train—down to Venice and take a boat for half a day, or sit on the
pier, and fish. When they sold the store and moved from the east side
to the west, he talked and dressed the same way, wouldn’t shave too
often. Sometimes when he walked over to see my dad the police
would pick him up, thinking he was a vagabond. But he was an easy-
going guy and fun to talk to; never complained, never envious, just
lived in his own world.
Joe had been in the Russian army. I have a picture of him in black
boots, a black uniform, and a black cap—he looked like a handsome
devil. He looked happy even then. I guess he was stationed out in
some backwoods area and decided he wanted out. How he got out of
the army and out of Russia I don’t know. But when he was sober, he
would tell me that all he was issued was what he had on and a large
spoon. The spoon he would keep in his boot and use it to eat out of
the communal pot. But he was never concerned about clothes or
money. Jenny ran the store, and he just sort of glided through life.
Later Jenny built a two-story apartment in back of the store, but in
the beginning, they lived in the back of the store, sleeping on the
floor just like Mexicans. They spoke Spanish fluently; ninety-nine
percent of their clientele was Mexican. She acquired property in that
area, and later spent most of her time looking after it.
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