A postcard found, a journey remembered

BY GERALDINE S. FOSTER

I love flea markets. Browsing among the stalls, with their eclectic mix of vintage and not-so-vintage goods, is a pleasure to me, especially if the browsing produces a treasure. 

These days, finding sites that meet my definition of a real flea market has become difficult. Too many are gentrified. The offerings are polished and shined until they sparkle, then artfully arranged.

Nowadays, I tend to seek more rural flea markets, where common and not-so-common folks go for bargains. There among the tools and war memorabilia, the genuine faux jewelry and mismatched china, I find my nuggets.

Neither Art Deco nor Depression glass arouses my collector instincts as it once did. Rather, it has become my mission (and my granddaughter’s) to rescue bits of Judaica from the flea markets’ flotsam. These items, like souvenirs of a trip to Israel or an old Kiddush cup, have little importance or value in the scheme of things, but they must have been important to someone at some point. Now they are tossed into a pile of castoffs.

 Recently, I rescued a rather wobbly brass hanukkiah from a jumble of used tools and implements. What particularly attracted my attention was the colorful drippings of Hanukkah candles, still there on the base.  The seller was very happy to accept $2 for it. He tightened it up as well, which made it as good as when new, which was not too long ago. Anyone need a brass hanukkiah made in India?

At another table, my daughter found three postcards, orphans set aside from the rest of an orderly pack in a box of cards from everywhere. Their price was reduced to a fraction of the original cost. One showed a handsome kibbutznik harvesting cotton on Kfar Blum in Israel. A second offered a romantic picture of a shepherd tending his flock, probably from the late 1930s. The third was the oldest – a rotogravure photo of Jerusalem taken in 1927. That postcard and its photographer are grist for this column.

I have no idea who wrote the message on the postcard, but the content and the photo brought to mind Rhode Islanders, some of whom my parents knew, who visited in the days before there was an Israel. They spoke of their experiences, but whatever printed materials they had – letters, journals, photos, etc. – are not found in the archives of the R.I. Jewish Historical Association.

An exception is the diary of Betty (Mrs. Isaac) Woolf, who visited Palestine in 1938. The diary, a treasured bit of our history, now resides in the archives, and excerpts were published in RIJHA’s Notes in 1999.

One year after the death of her husband, Betty Bassing Woolf, at age 64, undertook the difficult journey by boat from Boston to Haifa. She wanted to visit her sister and also see for herself the work of the many agencies in Palestine she helped support. The plan of her friends, Doctors Clara and Joseph Smith, to visit Palestine at that time may have been a contributing factor in her decision.

Woolf and the Smiths boarded the Conte de Savoia on April 1. The ocean was rough for part of the way, she wrote, but the ride was smooth. After 15 days, and a stop in Naples, the three friends arrived at the port of Haifa in time for Passover. Woolf’s sister was there to welcome her. The Smiths followed their own itinerary.

After Passover, Woolf went to Jerusalem. Perhaps she viewed the walled city from the same vantage point as the postcard photographer. Perhaps she bought similar postcards to send to family and friends back home. One can only speculate.

Her travel agenda included a trip to Jericho and the Dead Sea, before spending time in Jerusalem. Upon seeing the “Mighty River Jordan” for the first time, Woolf wrote, “If this river looked like that at the time the Jews crossed it to enter the Promised Land for the first time there is not much credit to them because it is very narrow.”

In Jerusalem, in addition to sightseeing, Woolf visited Hadassah Hospital, WIZO social agencies, and the offices of the Jewish Agency and the Jewish National Fund, where she saw the name of her husband inscribed in the JNF Golden Book.

At the Wailing Wall, she said a few chapters of psalms, had memorial prayers said for family and friends, and made donations. The situation of the residents of the Old City filled her with pity.    

On July 23, after traveling the length and breadth of Palestine, Woolf reunited with the Smiths for the trip home. Sadly, on their last day in Palestine, fighting broke out in Haifa. Her sister had to say goodbye in the street, as the port was closed to all but those boarding ships.

When she boarded the boat, Woolf wrote, “I felt relieved to be under the protection of the American Flag.”

GERALDINE S. FOSTER is a past president of the R.I. Jewish Historical Association. To comment about this or any RIJHA article, contact the RIJHA office at info@rijha.org or 401-331-1360.