My father was active in many institutions in Bialystok, but the Hebrew Gymnasium was the apple of his eye. He was born in the township of _ Slutzk in White Russia, and studied at a Yeshiva where he was considered to be a genius. At the age of 16, he was ordinated as a Rabbi but did not practice as such in the community. His father wanted him to be recognized as a Rabbi by the authorities, and for this purpose he was obliged to study secular subjects and Russian. His teacher was I.D.Berkovitch, Shalom Aleichems son-in-law and Hebrew translator. My father liked the "Goyish" (non-Jewish) studies. He passed the matriculation examination with distinction and became an agnostic. In spite of this, he found time to study the Mishna and Gemara and was enthused by the Bible, especially by the Books of the Prophets Isaiah, Hosea, and Jeremiah.

After receiving the matriculation certificate, he studied medicine at Dorphat University in Estonia. In 1911 he completed his studies and received a medal which he wore on his chest with great pride.

He devoted most of his spare time to the Hebrew Gymnasium. As Chairman of the Board of the Gymnasium he would visit it frequently. I was not pleased by his continuous presence, and was jealous of friends who could absent themselves from lessons. Once, summoning up courage, I was absent for a whole day, and my friends informed the teacher that I was ill. And lo and behold, on that very day, my father appeared at the Gymnasium and one of the teachers inquired after my health. He realized immediately what was going on, and replied that my condition had improved and that I would be returning to school the following day. I would rather not go into details about the conversation which took place between us later at home.

At the end of December 1939, I crossed the border into Lithuania, so as to emigrate from there to Eretz Yisrael. Zionist activists were congregating in Vilna and waiting for certificates. In February 1941 my turn came, and my father came to bid farewell. Before I boarded the train, he hugged me and began to cry. It was the first time in my life that I had seen him cry. It seems as though his heart told him that we would not see one another again. When I was in the British Army. I was told that my father had been placed in charge of the Health Department in the Bialystok Ghetto, and later, as a doctor, was sent with a group of Jewish children to the Teresienstadt camp, and from there to Auschwitz. I heard different accounts regarding his death. According to one version, he died of exhaustion after Auschwitz was liberated.
Blessed be his memory

Honor His Memory!