The Wernick Family Record of Remembrance: From Shtetl to Tucson

Jim Ostroff Remembers Rose and Irving Rosenblum

As a child, it always was a treat for our family to visit with relatives, but never more so than the home of Uncle Irving and Tante Rosie, or "Little Rosie," as she was affectionately called by my mom and the rest of the Rosenblum mishpucha.

In truth, they were not my aunt and uncle. This appellation could only rightfully be claimed by my mom, Theodora Rosenblum Ostroff. Me? I was Irving's great-nephew and Godson. But such formalities didn't matter. Irving and Rosie were as warm and kind to me as any relative. So Aunt and Uncle it was. My very earliest memories, from around age three, were playing on the lawn of my aunt and uncle's home in Leonia, N.J., with my cousins Randy, Lynn and Jeoff.

It is hard, if not impossible, to put into words the mind's-eye pictures -- no, feelings -- that I recall about our visits to Leonia. For this was a tranquil oasis, unlike the dense-pack, garden apartment community where my family lived in Douglaston, Queens, N.Y. The streets in Leonia were quiet, the lawns neat and manicured.

I can see my aunt and uncle's house as if I had visited yesterday. The front yard was planted in English Ivy and in the summer, Caladium plants sprung up in a riot of color and all was well cared for. (To this very day, whenever I see Caladiums, I am "taken back" to that house; those memories.)

For a child growing up with a tiny, crabgrass lawn on which one could just squeeze in a tiny wading pool, Uncle Irving and Tante Rosie's home was a wonderful playland. No, there were no rides, midways, or ponies. Just a vast expanse of lawn where we kids would run around with nary a care about cars, nor concern that we had to "look both ways" before running across the street in Douglaston to retrieve a Spaldeen.

In summertime, their house was adorned with something I had never before seen: a striped awning that jutted out from a back porch. In years to come I would see awnings on other houses in other places, ranging from Massachusetts to Florida. The home where my wife Wendy grew up in Flushing, N.Y., even had one. But none are so special as the one that adorned that house in Leonia, as remembering it conjures up sweet and happy thoughts.

One is particularly sweet. It was a hot summer day. Perhaps July 1959. I was eight years old. This visit to Leonia was especially memorable for a trek Uncle Irving made with me down to the basement of his home. He said he had a "surprise" for me and it was one that I always will remember. Descending the stairs with Uncle Irving to a corner of the basement, he led me to something I'd never seen before: a large, locker-type freezer.

Uncle opened the top-loading door and beckoned me to look in. I was speechless. There, in a section of the freezer, was a box that contained dozens of Sealtest ice cream pops. "Wow!" I remember saying. And "wow' it was for a child whose access to such frozen treats normally was dependent upon his ability to scream "Wait!" at the Good Humor man as his truck trolled our neighborhood.

I remember my eyes lighting up as Uncle Irving reached in and pulled out an ice cream bar for me. And when he took out a second one and patted me on the head, saying, "Jimmy, here, have another," well, I was in heaven.

A confirmed ice cream lover I've since had my share of gourmet and super-premium brands. But none, never, were as good as those two Sealtest ice cream bars Uncle Irving bestowed upon me that day.

NOTES on text: James J. "Jim" or "Jimmy" Ostroff is the son Herbert and Theodora Rosenblum Ostroff. "Thea" was the middle daughter of Jacob J. and Clara Skolnick Rosenblum. Their youngest daughter, Charlotte, my Godmother, married Phil Greenfield. They have two children: Lynn and Jeoffrey. Randy is the oldest son of Oscar (Rosenblum) and Gloria Ross, Irving's and Rosie's oldest son. Their younger son, Bernie Rosenblum, married Barbara Wernick. Irving was my Godfather. Jacob J., Rosenblum, my namesake, was Irving's oldest brother. Jacob had two other younger brothers, Louis and Charlie "Red," and a sister, Katie.

A few months before Uncle Irving passed away he provided information that proved invaluable in my family genealogy research. He recalled that his father Avrum's father, Oiza (or Oscar), had two brothers: Moshe and Chune. Armed with this information, I inquired of some elderly relatives, seeking to prod their memories about people whom they may have heard about through stories when they were children.

Lo and behold I "uncovered" several score of Rosenblum relatives who were descendants of Moshe and Perala -- one of whom lived next door to us for 10 years when I was a child!

Uncle Irving also noted that his father, Avrum, had two "disappeared" sons -- Dufka and Yussel. Lore has it that they were horse traders and one day, Irving said, Dufka and Yussel were abducted by Cossacks and never seen or heard from again. Given the accuracy of Uncle Irving's recollections of stories about other relatives that proved true, I believe Dufka and Yussel did exist and am pursuing this lead as part of my overall genealogical search.

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My mom, Thea (later "Theo") Rosenblum Ostroff, had an astounding facility for memory. Why, she could recall in detail going to the movies with her mom, Clara, and sitting through the "silents," while a piano plunker played "turbulent music" in the background. Since mom was born in 1919 and the talkies eclipsed silents in '27, she likely was younger than eight years old when she took in all those Charlie Chaplin flicks. There must have been a lot of them, 'cause mom could recite lines from the film and imitate Chaplin's to-and-fro gait.

Having established mom's memory prowess, I have little doubt about her recollection of Charlie and Katie Rosenblum's son, Oiza. Mom claimed she was about four years old when she visited the home of her aunt and uncle around 1923.

"I remember walking into a room and looking down into a bassinet at Oiza," Mom told me in the early 1960s. "I recall talking to him and tickling him, but Oiza didn't respond at all. He had this very large head and big eyes, and all he did was stare up at the ceiling. I never saw him again. He died soon after this visit."

Katie was the granddaughter of Oiza and Dvorah "Dora" Schneider Rosenblum. Katie's parents were Avrum and Bobscha Tepper Rosenblum. Charlie was the grandson of Oiza and Dora, as well. His parents were Charles Speckler and Perala Rosenblum, Perala being Oiza's daughter. That made Charlie and Katie first cousins, a fact they sought to hide during their entire lives. This may explain why they both feigned amnesia when, as a child, I asked them about their parents and other "old ones" in the family.

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Our Rosenblum family was filled with relatives who had, let's say, memorable monikers. Irving's wife, Rose Liss, was known as "Little Rosie," to distinguish her from Rose Smith, "Big Rosie," who was married to another of Irving's brother, Charlie, or Chune.

Charlie, in turn, was known as "Charlie Red," after his hair color, not political inclination. "Red" was bestowed that nickname to distinguish him from Katie's husband -- also Charlie, or Chune. As a young man, Katie's husband was known as "Chune Schwartze," due to his jet black hair. Later, after a series of accidents that left Charlie Schwartze lame, he was known as "Charlie the Foot." All in all, I'd say that the Rosenblums made the colorful Mafia dons' nicknames pale by comparison.

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Throughout the Rosenblum family, tales abound about the little "tricks" that Katie and Charlie employed over the years to, let's say, enhance their economic well-being. How true these are I cannot say. Suffice it to note that these stories were repeated oft times to me as a child, a teenager, and as late as last year by various relatives throughout the family.

"Charlie was an expert 'faller,"' one relative related. "He would walk down the street in Manhattan past this mom-and-pop store, a small deli and when he came to a big hotel, slip, down he went. Supposedly, Charlie fell in front of several hotels and sued them all for negligence."

Another relative: "Charlie perfected this routine of falling off of streetcars and collecting insurance money for the accidents."

And another: "Every year from the late '40s, on, I think, Katie and Charlie would go down to Florida for the winter. Just about every year, their luggage was so badly 'damaged' they filed claims with the railroads and later the airlines and told me that in this way, they got new luggage almost every year."

Let me hasten to add that in all of the years I knew Uncle Charlie and Tante Katie they were a very loving couple toward each other and I know, from relatives, that when Charlie passed away, Katie was heartbroken in the years that remained to her.

Both of them always were very kind to me and my family. They spoke with reverence about my grandfather and namesake, Jacob J. Rosenblum, and attended all the major milestone events in my life: my brith in '51, Bar Mitzvah in '64, wedding in '79 and mom's funeral/shiva in '81.

In particular, I well remember one visit my family paid to their home in Brooklyn. It was Dec. 25, 1958. I was seven years old. Katie and Charlie sat on a couch in their living room. My mom, dad, Grandma Clara (who lived with us), brother Matt and Ellen pulled up chairs around a coffee table. In the center of the table was a small bowl and candy lover that I was (maybe am still), my eyes lit up when I spied a Hopjes candy in the bowl.

I loved these coffee-flavored treats, wrapped so neatly in creamy white, thick paper. But, there was a problem. Just ONE candy. Though only seven, I knew it was "bad manners" to grab the candy, especially since no one else would be able to have one.

Well, I guess Tante Katie sensed this conundrum. Disappearing for a few seconds, she emerged from the kitchen with a WHOLE bag of Hopjes that she emptied in the bowl. Little Jimmy was in candy heaven. I probably ate four of those treats over the course of several hours. But the biggest treat was yet to come.

As we were leaving, Tante Katie slipped me this small paper bag. "Here, Yankele, this is for you," she said in a whisper, calling me by my Yiddish name, which could be translated as "little Jacob." After all, I was named for her oldest brother, Jacob.

As soon as we got to the hallway on our way out I looked into the bag and, geez and Superman, there were about 10 Hopjes inside. I think I made these candies "last" for a year. Only for special occasions.... You hardly see Hopjes anymore, save for the odd gourmet food store that may stock them. But without fail, whenever I've happened upon these candies since, I always remember fondly that visit with Tante Katie and Uncle Charlie, Christmas Day, 1958.

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He was a real character, that Uncle Louis, second born to Avrum and Bobscha Tepper Rosenblum, after my grandfather, Jacob. The most prosperous family member for several decades after he came to this country, Uncle Louie, as he was always known, was the first relative to own a new car, or any car for that matter, and have a telephone in his house.

Louie married Sarah Landesberg in the early part of this century. Tante Sarah was beloved by family members. Louie generally was not. Let's just say he had a reputation as a flirt, a cigar-chomping tightwad and a person who took advantage of others, including his own family, in pursuit of the almighty dollar.

Tante Sarah died of cancer in the late 1940s. Louis remarried. The events that followed are murky. Supposedly, his wife, Miriam, suffered a mental breakdown and he had her committed to some hospital and divorced her. Subsequently, Uncle Louie began living with a woman, had a child by her, left her and then disappeared from the family, and his garment business, for several months. True or not, I cannot say, but this story has been told to me by several relatives.

Eventually, Uncle Louis fell in with one Mimi Richman, a woman he met at the track, and they were married. There was this "buzz" in the family that Mimi, considerably younger than Louis, was a "gold digger." My family last visited with Louie and Mimi at their home in the Elmont section of Nassau County, Long Island, in Spring 1959. (Louie and Mimi's next residence was a much grander house in Great Neck, L.I. When they retired, it was to Morton Towers in Miami Beach, Florida.)

I recall they had a large private house with large windows. They were kind to me and my family and there was no hint of any animosity that was apparent. Two things stay with me from that visit: I vividly remember Mimi letting us in on "her secret." No, nothing bawdy. Mimi revealed that she smeared mayonnaise on her pothos plant leaves to keep them shiny. Uncle Louie was proud to encourage his bird to bellow profanities, which left my parents red-faced, especially when eight-year-old Jimmy asked them what those words meant!

Louie died in 1965. We all attended his funeral and burial at Elmont's Beth David cemetery, in the Rosenblum Family plot, established by the Erste Borschivitz Society. (The Rosenblum family was from Borschev, Galicia, Austria-Hungry. This small city today is in the Ukraine.)

I was 14 at the time Uncle Louie passed away and I well recall some family members talking among themselves at his funeral, saying in effect, "Now Mimi will get what she always wanted. All she ever cared about was Louie's money."

Over the years I've visited the cemetery to pay my respects. Virtually everyone I knew as a child, all those people I've written about here, and those whose stories I've yet to commit to paper, are there now. My great-grandparents, Avrum and Bobscha Tepper Rosenblum, my maternal grandparents, Jacob J. and Clara Skolnick Rosenblum, Uncle Irving and Tante "Little Rosie," Uncle Charlie and Tante Katie, Uncle Charlie "Red" and Tante "Big Rosie," mom's oldest sister, Aunt Virginia and her husband, Uncle Joe Altman, my cousin Bernard "Bernie" Rosenblum, and several Gladstone relatives.

All of these graves are neat and well-maintained. When I visit the cemetery, I always leave stones on every monument and headstone. Yes, I remember. I paused to think about my Rosenblum family members the last time I was there in 1995, and stopped to place a stone on every grave. Except for one.

I could not find Uncle Louie's headstone. I knew where it was and even double-checked this on a map. But Louie's eternal marker was gone. It had sunken below the earth and was overgrown with crabgrass.

Jim Ostroff
June 22, 1999

NOTES on text: James J. "Jim" or "Jimmy" Ostroff is the son Herbert and Theodora Rosenblum Ostroff. "Thea" was the middle daughter of Jacob J. and Clara Skolnick Rosenblum. Their youngest daughter, Charlotte, my Godmother, married Phil Greenfield. They have two children: Lynn and Jeoffrey. Randy is the oldest son of Oscar (Rosenblum) and Gloria Ross, Irving's and Rosie's oldest son. Their younger son, Bernie Rosenblum, married Barbara Wernick. Irving was my Godfather. Jacob J., Rosenblum, my namesake, was Irving's oldest brother. Jacob had two other younger brothers, Louis and Charlie "Red," and a sister, Katie.

continue with Jim Ostroff's The Breakthough

Introduction   Schmerko Wiernik   St. Johns Place   Private Alexander Wernick   Ida & Alex
Irwin & Barbara   From Brooklyn to Tucson   Wernick Family Photos   Rosenblum Family Photos Album 1 and Album 2