Page 58 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text

Three teachers

Rabbi Shlomo was about seventy years of age, with a long beard
as white as snow—except for a blood-red line running down its
whole length. This was the result of his constant use of snuff
tobacco, the juice of which would drip from his nose and trickle
down his beard. So we nicknamed him Shlomo with the Prune Juice.
The snuff also caused his olfactory organ to become blocked,
affecting his speech. Studying all his life the same tracts of the
Talmud and the Bible, he knew long passages by heart; when
teaching us he just mumbled whole pages with his eyes closed. In the
afternoon, having eaten a four o’clock meal of bread and soup, or
half a herring and plenty of onions, he became drowsy. At first we
were repeating the studies with him, and he listened and corrected
our mistakes, but in due time he fell asleep while we continued
murmuring the lesson. Then we boys, being of the age of mischief
and rascality, had a jolly good time, playing all kinds of tricks on him.
In that time and place, where money was scarce and no
amusements or pleasures were to be had, we children spent all day in
school, well into the evening. No one worried about electric bills.
Half a pint of kerosene or one candle burned three hours; each boy
in rotation had to bring the candle for the day. One was considered
enough for the whole table, yet we had less eye trouble than we have
today from the electric light, with its many rays affecting our eyes. We
had no wristwatches or clocks to tell us when to quit: the candle or
kerosene supply told us—and Shlomo—it was time to quit when it
burned down. A pocket watch was a thing unknown to our class of
people; only a chossen received a watch from his future father-in-law as
a gift, and none but the wealthiest households had a big clock with
chains and weights.
When the studies were boring and our desires were stirred to be
out skating or playing in the snow, we learned a trick to get out earlier
from the house of learning. When we saw Shlomo begin to snore we
would play with the candle: by heating a needle or piece of wire and
sticking it into the tallow candle near the wick it would melt faster.
Shlomo would awaken a few minutes later, find the candle “striking
eight,” and order us to go home. With the kerosene lamp it was not
so easy, as we could not drain the liquid. So we pasted a piece of
paper around the ventilation holes; the wick began to smoke,
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