Lodz, 1 February 1924 Dear esteemed and beloved nephew, most appropriately named Sol Zissman, I'm letting you know that I received the affidavits from the bank. I thank you and your cousin for them. Other than that, dear Sol, I can tell you that things have not been going well with me. For example, I'm left without a liveli- hood, and I don't have any idea about what to do now. How do you like that? I've really come a long way. All winter long, my wife and I and the chldren have suffered hunger, cold and deprivation. My brother-in-law, sup- posedly, has pity on me and gives me a bit of a job now and then. But, dear Shloymele, woe is me if I have to depend on such earnings. When I got the departure papers, I borrowed 25 million marks and I went to Warsaw to get information about my trip to America. Unfortunately, however, I didn't get any good news in Warsaw. I went to HIAS and showed them my papers, but they said that the quotas for 1924 and 1925 had already been filled by people in the first and second categories. If I wanted to, they said, I could register for 1926, but it could turn out that the 1926 quota will also be filled by those in the first and second categories. It could well be that we will never get to go at all. (While in Warsaw,) I saw heart-rending scenes of immigrants. For example, a woman told me that her husband in New York sent for her three years ago. She has changed her number three times. Americans intervened with the Counsel on her behalf; nothing did any good. Hundreds of others are wandering around Warsaw, their breadwinners in America. They sold everything they possessed so that they could go. Now they are left without a roof over their heads and without any means of support while waiting for their turn. Many have been waiting a year and a half or two years, and only G-d knows how much longer they will have to wait. As we were standing around talking, the secretary came in to announce that a bill has been passed limiting the number of immigrants to 2%. Previously, it had been 3%. Many women fainted. Many cried bitterly, but all to no avail. The legislation is stronger than anything. Seeing that nothing could be done, I got up and left. But once I got out on the street, my eyes became blurry and my head ached terribly, perhaps because all of my hopes and illusions of seeing you before my eyes had just dissolved like salt in the sea. As it happened, I saw a fellow from Konskie on the street. I told him my bitter and tragic story. He interested him- self in my situation and gave me the address of some big shot on Leszno Street. I went there straightway, showed him my exit papers and this is what I learned. As to a number change, that is, if I wanted the number of someone who has already been registered for a long time, but still wait my turn...this deal would cost me $200. To get a visa without waiting, immediately, within a month that is, costs $400. After listening to what this man had to say, I was left speechless. I left with a heavy and bitter heart, descended the steps and stood dumbfounded on the street, staring at the sky. I saw thousands of people flowing past me. The tumult was great. The trams were running; the autos were hooting. Everything was hustling and bustling about. Everyone, it seemed to me, was happier than I was. No one else has been hurt so much. Everyone else has a home and lives more or less happily. I, only I alone, am the most unlucky person in the world! I believe, I am convinced, that if I had not started (this business about) going to America, there would not have been any limiations, any bills, any quotas. Everything has happened because of me. It's all to do me harm. Everything is to put obstacles (in my path) and to cause me pain. Dear and devoted Shloymele, I know full well that you want to help me as much as possible, but are you in a position to help me? Does it pay for you to have so much devotion for your uncle? And how can you be so sure that you will be able to see your undertaking through? It is true that, if I were already there (in America), I would not be as much trouble to you as I am now. I would work, and no matter how much I earned I would save up enough to send for my family. Now when I think about how hard this trip will be for me and how I might cause your ruination, G-d forbid, a shudder runs through my bones. I have even wanted to give up my plan to go to America and have even gone so far as to get information about Argentina. For that I must have at least $100. Many people are going to Argentina, but all of them are qualified workers. The immigration to Palestine is also great, but one has to have 60 English pounds, that is $240. In short, no matter where one wants to go, one has to have money. Without money, one might as well be dead. So, dear and devoted Shloymele, what do you advise me? How do I get out of this bad situation? Please believe that I am not able to portray my situation at this time with a sim- ple pen. My family and I came through a bitter winter, and we have already sold everything in the house. There is nothing left to sell. My son, Joseph, was sick with typhus for six weeks. He is now better, thank G-d. I really became quite depressed. The whole world seems ugly and narrow. Daylight drives me out into the street and night- fall chases me back home. The inflation here is unbelievably high, and I, as an ordi- nary citizen, am not in a position to provide for my hungry wife and children. In short, cold, need and hunger reign in my home. Devoted and most beloved Shloymele, it is hard, very hard, for me to write this to you, since I would rather cover it all up. The gift is small, but the shame is very great. I want very much to have the honor of having a home of my own and not live with my in-laws. I would yet want to earn with my own fingers (the money with which to buy) bread and salt, and not have to depend on someone else to be my breadwinner. I want very much for joy to reign in my home and for my children not to grow up (wild) as the oaks. I note that many people have more luck than understanding, but with me, on the other hand, things are quite reversed. I understand too much! But what good comes of it if I have no luck? So dear and most beloved (nephew), once again I come to you with tears in my eyes and a fervent request. I am forced, whether I like it or not, to stretch out my hand to you. I hope you are, I am convinced you are, willing to help me with whatever you can. It makes no difference how you help me. Dear Shloymele, I would rather die than to have to turn to any human being for help. I know very well that you aren't sitting there (in America) in a bank gathering money. I understand that every one of your dollars is earned by hard work, by the sweat of your brow. What right do I have as your uncle to put my hand into your wallet? What right do I have to take the piece of bread out of your mouth? Instead of your eating alone, I want to share with you. Oh how tragic and disgusting, oh how bitter things are for me. If at least you were here with me, you would understand my situation. You would see with your own eyes what has become of your uncle. What a ruin! You would probably give him the benefit of any doubt and would try to find a way of counseling him. But there (in America), so distant...can you see what's happening so far away? In any case, are you in a position to cure your uncle of such a terrible illness? Although you are a good doctor, and the operation could be a success, it all depends on whether or not you agree to help me this time. (As for me,) I consider myself a corpse. I only want to save my family from going under, G-d forbid. I am ready to go to the ends of the earth to save my family. I would like to continue living, but I just don't have the wherewithal. I want to live in the wide and beautiful world from which man draws all his pleasures, but I can't! Perhaps it is best to give my place to someone else, someone who will have more luck and less understanding. No, and again, no! I don't want to do that! I want to gain control of myself. I want to live with the hope that the time will yet come when I will be a person equal to other people, that the time will yet come when I will reminisce of my troubles and sufferings from a position of happiness. In any case, no matter how things turn out, you my dear child will hold the place of honor in the story of my life. Your innocent heart will be made very unhappy by this letter, dear child. You will wonder what to do, how much to send now. So I am letting you know, dear child, that you should not ask me how much to send in aid, because I won't answer you on that point. I won't tell you how much to send me. I still remember when I was at Yosel Tsuker's and a profes- sional beggar came into the house for a handout. After he had received the money, he left dissatisfied. On the other hand, an honestly poor man would leave a blessing upon receipt of any charitable contribution whatsoever. I beg of you, my dear child, no matter what you send, don't tell your father, and don't show him my letters, since my shame is very great. I must point out one thing to you, dear child. You should keep in mind that, no matter how much you send your uncle at this time, you should not consider it a gift but only as relief aid lent for a period of time. I am certain that no matter where I shall be, in Poland, America, Argentina or Palestine, I shall always remember that I have to put aside money from the household funds each week to repay my debt to you. However, I won't pay you interest for waiting. May G-d repay you for that, dear child. Don't delay your help, since the need is very great. Also give me some advice as to whether I should remain in Poland and work by myself without a partner, or whether I should go to Palestine, Argentina or America. I impatiently await your help as well as your advice. I also want to let you know that neither my wife nor my mnother agrees with my (wanting to make the) journey. They are not, however, in a position to hold me back from existing, from living, etc. I have nothing more of import to write. Hoping that this letter finds you in the best of health, I send regards and kisses from the bottom of my heart. Your uncle, Wolf Lewkowicz My wife sends heartfelt regards. In reading over this letter, she cried quite a bit. My children send heartfelt regards. Give regards to your father, your sisters, your family, (Aaron) Isaac Anker, et al. My address is as follows: Wolf Lewkowicz Wolczanska 168 Lodz, Poland All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.