Report35Aberbach2736 .pdf

THE EARLY GERMAN JEWS OF BALTIMORE

By MOSES ABERBACH

Jewish Historical Society of Maryland

(Text of lecture delivered at the Annual Meeting of the Society for the History of the

Germans in Maryland on February 18, 1970.)

A little over a hundred years ago, the Jewish community of Baltimore

was almost exclusively German. A handful of Sephardi, i. e., Spanish and

Portuguese Jews had indeed arrived in the 18th century; but they had

never been able to form a viable community of their own. An attempt to

have a synagogue of their own proved abortive for lack of members.¹

Before the Civil War, there may also have been a few indigent East

European Jews in Baltimore,² but they, too, played a negligible role in

the community. To all intents and purposes, Baltimore Jewry was a

hundred percent German in language and culture.

Like Julius Caesar's Gaul, the history of the Baltimore German-Jewish

community can be divided into three parts. The first, which few people

know about, is the German background of the immigrants, the circum-

stances which induced them to leave their homeland and seek their fortune

in the New World. The second is the story of their struggle to adapt them-

selves to the changed environment in which they had to lead their social,

economic and religious life. The third part is the account of their role in

the Civil War and of their Americanization during the years that followed.

I propose to deal with these three major aspects of the history of the

German-Jewish community in Baltimore.

Where did the German-speaking Jews of Baltimore come from? Al-

though German was the lingua franca of all the educated classes in central

Europe—including Austria, Bohemia, Moravia, Slovakia, Galicia, and the

greater part of Hungary and Switzerland—the immigrant Jews of Balti-

more were overwhelmingly of Bavarian origin. There were good reasons

for this, as we shall presently see.

At the time of the Napoleonic wars there were some 30,000 Jews in

Bavaria—a very large number for those days. It was precisely because

of this that the movement for Jewish emancipation made less headway in

Bavaria than anywhere else in the German-speaking world. It is easier

to grant freedom to a small minority than to a large, substantial group

which is liable to gain more influence and power than the majority is willing

to concede.

In addition, South Germany—of which Bavaria formed the largest and

most important section—was always more conservative and reactionary

than other parts of Germany. Even in our own time, Bavaria was the

citadel of Nazism at a time when in North Germany, including Berlin,

Hitler had only a handful of followers.

The story of Jewish emancipation in Bavaria was, therefore, one of

constant disappointment and frustration. Under French influence, Catholic

Bavaria granted equal rights to Protestants as early as 1800. No such

privileges were extended to the Jewish minority, although the hope was

[ 27 ]

expressed that measures would be taken through which the Jews "would

gradually be educated to become useful citizens." The condescending tone

of this insulting statement, implying as it did that the Jews, unlike Chris-

tians, needed special education before they could become "useful citizens",

was hardly designed to encourage Jewish hopes for civil rights. Neverthe-

less, the Ghetto had bred so many Jewish Uncle Toms that even such a

weak declaration was welcomed by the Bavarian Jews who then proceeded

to request that their hard lot be alleviated. No concessions were made

by the government until after 1806 when Napoleon had crushed the Prus-

sian army and become virtual master of the German states. The Jews

were then permitted to attend government schools and serve in the army,

and in return for these paltry privileges, Jewish communal autonomy was

considerably restricted. Rabbinic courts which in the past had been

authorized to deal with internal Jewish disputes and matters of personal

status, such as marriage and divorce, were henceforth deprived of most of

their functions.

Naturally, the Jews continued to agitate for full emancipation; but

when at last a new law was issued by the Bavarian government in 1813,

it proved a bitter disappointment. The right of settlement in Bavaria was

severely restricted to heads of families already long resident in Bavaria.

This right could be inherited only by the oldest son who was thereby

permitted to marry and have a family. The younger sons were not per-

mitted to marry, unless a "vacancy" occurred through the death or

emigration of established Jewish families. In exceptional cases, younger

sons could purchase the right of marrying and setting up a family for the

enormous sum of about a thousand gulden—a veritable fortune in those

days.

The purpose of these inhuman regulations was openly stated:

"The number of Jewish families in any place in which they happen to

reside must not, as a rule, be increased. It should rather be gradually

diminished, if there are too many of them."

In addition, the Bavarian government imposed restrictions on Jewish

merchants, thus rendering free commercial activities all but impossible.

As if this were not enough, the government also abolished rabbinic courts,

so that even the restricted functions permitted during the years 1808-1813

were now done away with.

After Waterloo, there was a general reaction all over Germany, and in

Bavaria the Jews were particularly affected by the hostile attitude of

population and government alike. Nevertheless, perhaps because of their

poverty and the constant harrassment to which they were subjected, the

Jewish population almost doubled within one generation, and is estimated

to have reached some 50,000 souls or more.

In 1831, renewed attempts were made by the Jewish communities of

Bavaria to secure civil rights. There were long debates in the Bavarian

parliament, and one representative, a certain Dr. Lang, spoke strongly

in favor of Jewish emancipation—but only on condition that "the con-

fessors of the Mosaic religion deny the authority of the Talmud and change

their Sabbath from Saturday to Sunday".

In other words, if the Jews

wanted emancipation, they had better stop being Jews. With such friends,

the Bavarian Jews hardly needed enemies.

Eventually, a resolution was passed to the effect that the government

would examine the legislation concerning the Jews, with a view to revising

obnoxious laws in their favor. The Jews hailed this resolution as a great

landmark; but the government was actually determined to postpone

[ 28 ]

indefinitely any action by putting forward all sorts of excuses to delay

matters as long as possible. Commissions were appointed; "experts" were

consulted; investigations were made; and Jewish communal and religious

life was subjected to microscopic examination. Since the Jews were divided

between Orthodox and Reform, this fact was used by the government to

postpone still further any changes that may have been contemplated.

The Jewish communities, meanwhile, sent one petition after another

to the King and his ministers; but all they achieved was high praise for

the good German style in which the petitions were composed. Then the

papers were duly pigeonholed.

One such petition, submitted in 1837, complained bitterly about the

oppressive regime under which Bavarian Jewry had to live. Many Jews,

it was pointed out, were unable to endure this oppression any longer, and

were therefore leaving Bavaria and emigrating to the United States.

The

government was apparently not unduly impressed; for nothing whatsoever

was done to alleviate the position of the Bavarian Jews. It must not be

assumed that the Bavarian authorities shed any tears for the departing

Jews. As far as they were concerned, it was good riddance. They did not

want the Jews, and the oppressive measures were useful in reducing the

growing numbers of the highly prolific Jewish community.

Even the great year of Revolutions, 1848, when so many reactionary

regimes came crashing down, and most German states at last granted

emancipation to their Jewish citizens—even then the petitions of the

Bavarian Jewish communities achieved nothing but vague promises which

were never meant to be kept. On the contrary, in the smaller towns and

villages, the mobs threatened to kill the Jews, and in the end Jewish

attempts to gain emancipation left them more unpopular than ever.

During the reactionary era following the 1848 revolutions, continued

appeals for civil rights were bound to remain fruitless, and in the course

of the 1850's no improvements whatsoever were registered in Bavaria. Once

again, large-scale emigration to America was the inevitable result of the

suppression and persecution of the Jewish communities.

It was not before 1861 that some of the worst abuses were removed;

but even then the Bavarian government was unwilling to grant full

equality to its Jewish citizens. Only with the unification of Germany in

1871 did the Bavarian Jews gain complete emancipation by virtue of the

Federal constitution of the German Reich.

I have dwelt at some length on the situation of the Jews in Bavaria

during the nineteenth century because every wave of Jewish immigration

to Baltimore up to the period of the Civil War was directly due to the

intolerable situation of Bavarian Jewry. Once the pressing need to emigrate

had subsided, the German-Jewish—that is, primarily, the Bavarian-Jewish

—immigration to Baltimore came to virtual halt.

Now, why did the immigrants choose to live in Baltimore rather than,

say, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Charleston or Savannah? To be

sure, many immigrant groups went to all these places—wherever they could

make a living. But those who settled in Baltimore did so partly because

of the close relations that existed between Baltimore and Bremen, a major

German port from which most of the German immigrants booked their

passage; and partly because in effect the shipping companies induced them

to come here. From the port of Baltimore two main products of con-

temporary Maryland—wheat and tobacco—used to be exported. Most of

the wheat went to Ireland; most of the tobacco to Germany, but the

shipping companies could not make a profit if the ships returned empty,

[ 29 ]

and neither Ireland nor Germany had any exports for which there was a

market in Maryland. So the ships brought back people—poor people—-

at very low fares. In Germany, virtually all the tobacco wholesalers in

the Rhine Valley were also travel agents for the shipping lines. If they

wanted to get their share of the profitable tobacco business, they had to

book passengers for America.

Bavarian Jews, travelling north on their way to ports from which they

would sail to America, would usually be approached by the shipping agents

who would tempt them by offering them discount tickets for their passage.

Since the emigrants were almost invariably poverty-stricken young men,

they were only too pleased to accept the offer. Later on, when they had

saved a little money in the Land of Opportunity, they would often come

back to their home-town—not, mind you, to settle there, they were too

smart for that—but to fetch a wife or a fiancee they had left behind.

Since parents who might allow their sons to leave would be most reluctant

to part with their unmarried daughters, there was often a desperate shortage

of women, especially young women, in the New World. Bachelors who

had made good would therefore pay special visits to their kith and kin,

and within a few months they would return with their brides to America.

Others would postpone their departure from the Old World until they

were able to marry. Thus, Rabbi Benjamin Szold, one of the leading

Baltimore rabbis in the nineteenth century, married his wife, to whom

he had been engaged for many years, immediately prior to his emigration

to America.

This pattern was set in the early 1800's before the building of steam-

ships when sailing vessels were used. Once German (as well as Irish)

colonies had been set up in Baltimore, those who came later would

naturally tend to join relatives and friends who had preceded them. It

was because of these blind economic forces that so many German and

especially Bavarian Jews found themselves in Baltimore. There was no

particular reason for coming to this city. Given a free choice, most of the

immigrants would probably have picked on larger, better-known cities,

offering perhaps better opportunities. Eventually, it all turned out for

the best. Baltimore had all the charm of the South with all the progressive

spirit of the North. And if at times the city did not live up to its reputation,

it must be borne in mind that other cities were not exactly perfect in their

spiritual and moral beauty either.

It must be admitted, though, that for the new immigrants things in

Baltimore were by no means easy. True, there were a couple of wealthy

German-Jewish families such as the Ettings and the Cohens, who played a

notable part in the civic, educational and commercial life of the city; but

on the other hand, they were unwilling to identify with the new immigrants,

preferring to regard themselves as aristocratic Sephardim (i. e., Jews of

Spanish and Portuguese origin) rather than as poor Ashkenazim or Ger-

man Jews.

For all that, they did assist their poorer co-religionists, and,

what may be even more important, they played a prominent role in

removing the political disabilities of the Jews in Maryland who, because

of a special oath, could not be elected to any State offices. In 1826, after

several abortive attempts to pass the so-called Jew Bill, the Legislature

at last granted the Jews the right to be appointed to any office of trust, on

condition that they "subscribe to a belief in a future state of rewards and

punishments ".

All in all, there were no more than about 150 Jews in Maryland at the

time, according to contemporary estimates. Nine years later, in 1835, the

[ 30 ]

Jewish population had doubled to some 300 souls. By 1840, it had risen

to close to 200 families,

and since families in those days were large, the

number of Jews in Maryland—primarily, of course, Baltimore—must have

been at least a thousand persons.

The overwhelmingly German-speaking Jews of Baltimore, who culturally

formed a substantial section of the general Germany colony in the city,

lived for the most part in East Baltimore where the first synagogues of

the city (including the beautiful Lloyd Street Synagogue—the oldest

synagogue in Maryland and the third oldest in the United States) were

located.

The new immigrants were assisted by those who had preceded

them; but they were none-the-less extremely poor.

Many arrived penni-

less, and had to be maintained by their better-off co-religionists. Yet,

they did not despair or wait for others to improve their lot. They were

willing to work hard as long as they could see the prospect of a better life

for themselves or their children at the end of the road. Since they had few

skills, and were not cut out for hard physical labor—which in any case

was not likely to lead them up the social ladder—, the only thing left

for them was to become peddlers,

an occupation with which some of them

were already familiar in the Old Country, in the Bavarian and Hessian

villages.

In the New World, the peddler was able to play a much greater part

in the progressive development of the country than in Europe. The

farmers of Western Pennsylvania, Maryland and Virginia needed the

services of the peddlers who brought them the industrial products of the

city. These products were not otherwise obtainable in the small farming

communities away from the urban centers near the coast. But to get to

those distant places was no mean achievement. The peddler, who started

out with virtually no capital, had to walk huge distances in all weathers,

summer and winter, shouldering heavy packs up to 80 or even 100 lbs.

He would be away from home through most of the week, returning only

for the Sabbath to spend the day of rest with his family.

For many even this "luxury" was not available. They might have to

spend weeks on end in the countryside, peddling, buying and selling

wherever and whenever they could.

Inevitably, their religious traditions suffered in the process. It became

difficult to observe the dietary laws when away from home. It often

became impossible to observe the Jewish Sabbath. Economic necessity,

more often than not, played havoc with the religious life of these poor,

ignorant peddlers.

The Reform movement, which did away with much

of traditional Judaism, was based not only on theological or philosophical

evaluations but also on harsh necessity. The German-Jewish immigrants

who abandoned the dietary laws and Sabbath observance did not do so

because they had reasoned together and "discovered" that these were

human customs rather than God-given laws. On the contrary, they later

excused and rationalized what they had earlier abandoned because the

sheer struggle for economic survival had forced them to do so.

If it is true that all-too-often it is the "wicked" who prosper while

the "righteous" suffer, the German Jewish peddlers were certainly no

exception. To the extent that they were willing to cast tradition to the

wind and adapt themselves to new circumstances, they were able to prosper.

The penniless, foot-slogging peddler gradually gave way to the horse-and-

buggy salesman, and he in turn would open a small store in one of the

smaller towns or larger villages. Instead of going round to the farmers,

the farmers would come to him. The little store, which was, of course,

[ 31 ]

open on Saturday—and sometimes on Sunday as well—might in time

become a big store. As cities grew, the big store would be transformed

into something resembling the modern department store. It is no accident

that the ancestors of the Hutzlers, Hochschild/Kohns, Hamburgers, Gutt-

mans and other major department store owners were poor peddlers who

were destined to revolutionize retail trading in this country.

The German Jews of Baltimore lived together with the Christian

Germans who at that time were probably the most liberal and progressive

element in the country.

German Jews and Christians together organized

German clubs, German societies, German Savings Banks and German

building and loan associations. Fraternal orders such as the Odd Fellows

had one hundred percent German lodges, the members of which were

both Jews and Christians. They even kept their minutes in German.

There were German day schools, attended by Jews and Christians who

could afford the fees, and the language of instruction was German. Rightly

or wrongly, the German colony in Baltimore regarded German as the

language of Kultur, while English—especially its "barbarous" American

variety—was at best a useful means of getting along in America, not an

instrument of culture.

Nearly all the Jewish congregational and organizational records and

minutes were kept in German until well after the Civil War. The prayer

books were German, and although they were gradually replaced by English

prayer books during the second half of the nineteenth century, in one syna-

gogue—the Baltimore Hebrew Congregation—the memorial prayer for the

dead on the Day of Atonement is even today recited in German. Somehow,

the German Jews of Baltimore and even some of their American-born

descendants seem to have gained the notion that German was a sacred

tongue in which solemn prayers should be uttered, even if one did not

understand a word of German.

All the leading rabbis who served in Baltimore during the nineteenth

century were of German or Central European origin, and they delivered

their sermons in flawless German. It was considered a great innovation

when, in 1882, Dr. Benjamin Szold, rabbi of the Oheb Shalom congregation,

was asked to deliver his sermons in English every other week. This was a

concession to the younger elements who had become Americanized.

How-

ever, hardly any of Baltimore's 19th century rabbis could speak English

properly, and their English sermons were no doubt a foretaste of purgatory

both for themselves and their congregations. Significantly, even the

American-born Henry Schneeberger, who served as rabbi of the Chizuk

Amuno Congregation from 1876 to 1916, had to go to Germany to study

for a rabbinical career.

Nevertheless, Baltimore was fortunate in attracting some of the greatest

rabbis of America whose influence has not been exhausted even today. The

first ordained Rabbi in America was Abraham Rice, who came to Baltimore

from Bavaria in 1840. He was the spiritual leader of the Baltimore Hebrew

Congregation, the first Jewish congregation in this city. Rabbi Rice was

a champion of strict orthodoxy, and he found it difficult to stomach the lax

religious habits of his congregants. In a letter to his teacher in Germany,

Rabbi Wolf Hamburger, he gives a pathetic picture of his life in the New

World:

" I dwell in complete isolation without a teacher or a companion in this

land whose atmosphere is not conducive to wisdom . . . The character of

religious life in this country is on the lowest level. . . My mind is perplexed

and I wonder whether a Jew may live in a land such as this . . . Life has

[ 32 ]

lost all meaning here on account of the irreverence and low estate of our

people . . . Often I made up my mind to leave and go from here to Paris

and to put my trust in the good Lord ".

Tension between Rabbi Rice and his congregation reached such a point

that he abandoned the rabbinate and became a merchant, though he later

resumed his rabbinical career for a short period. Once he exclaimed in

despair that "in Baltimore all is lost" (In Baltimore ist alles verloren!) .

He nevertheless enjoys the distinction of being the originator of organized

Orthodox Jewry in the United States.

The other two branches of American Judaism—Conservatism and Re-

form—also originated among the German Jews of Baltimore. Rabbi David

Einhorn who became the spiritual leader of the Har Sinai Congregation in

1855 was one of the foremost pioneers of American Reform Judaism. He

helped to shape its doctrines and left and indelible mark on its entire religious

and social ideology. In his sermons and articles in the congregational magaz-

zine "Sinai"—written, incidentally, in pure German—he preached social

action long before it was fashionable for ministers to engage in such activi-

ties. Above all, he was a fiery abolitionist who wrote and preached against

slavery from the very beginning of his ministry in Baltimore. In language

which is still vibrant with passion, he rejected the idea that the Bible

sanctioned slavery. On the contrary, the entire spirit of the Bible, according

to Einhorn, was opposed to slavery, even though it might tolerate it as an

unavoidable evil. If one were to argue in favor of slavery because it was

practiced in ancient times, one might just as well argue in favor of

re-establishing polygamy or blood vengeance.

Einhorn also realized that

the rights of all minorities were threatened—including those of the Jewish

minority—if any group were deprived of its rights.

Such advanced views were not popular in Baltimore in those days, and

before long Einhorn became one of the most unpopular men in the city.

As he himself wrote in the German-language magazine which he published

for several years:

"Even at the very beginning of the current political movement I had a

strong feeling that the atmosphere in Baltimore had become too oppressive

for those men who had come to America in order to be able to speak and

write freely . . . Plain truths which had anything to do with the burning

problem of slavery . . . began ... to be regarded as crimes. To touch the

topic of slavery in a manner disagreeable to Southern views was regarded

as unheard-of daring bordering on madness. To my deep regret I gradually

found that a part of my congregation had caught this fever . . .".

Einhorn was so determined to uphold his progressive, humanitarian

principles that he resolved that—as he so eloquently put it—"in case

Maryland were to secede from the Union, I would have no other choice

but to resign my position in Baltimore; for even in Russia and Austria free

speech is more tolerated than in a state that has seceded from the Union."

It is not surprising that Einhorn, who was a staunch Republican, was

highly respected among German Liberals in Baltimore, and is often men-

tioned in the German language Wecker, the Liberal organ of the German

community in Baltimore.

As far as slavery was concerned, the Jews of Baltimore, like the Christian

Germans, did not own slaves, and most of them no doubt regarded slavery

with disdain. Besides, only wealthy people could afford to own slaves. A

slave cost at least $900, and the Jews of Baltimore were still for the most

part small merchants and peddlers subsisting on a strictly limited income.

[ 33 ]

Last, but not least, slaves could be employed on plantations; but in urban

centers they were at that time of little use.

While the German Jews of Baltimore had no particular reason to

oppose abolition of slavery, they, nevertheless, favored the Democrats who

were the States' Rights party. That party opposed the xenophobic and

anti-immigrant "Know-Nothings",

so that the Jews had little choice

but to support the Democrats, irrespective of their attitude on the slavery

issue.

On April 19, 1861, large-scale rioting broke out in Baltimore. The

homes of known abolitionists were set on fire, and some of their occupants

beaten. A few abolitionists were murdered, and printing presses—including

the one which printed Einhorn's "Sinai"—were destroyed. In Einhorn's

words, "all of a sudden the city was brought under the reign of terror

of a furious mob, which immediately began to murder and burn to its

heart's content; to destroy unpopular houses and presses; and to get out

of the way citizens suspected of love for the Union . . ."

Einhorn decided that it would be the better part of valor to remove

himself and his family to safety in Philadelphia; but he fully intended to

return to Baltimore on his own within a few days. On May 12th, Einhorn's

congregation invited him to return. However, because of political differences

and sheer faintheartedness the leading members of the "Har Sinai " Temple

urged him "that it would be highly desirable—both for your own safety's

sake and in consideration of the members of your congregation—if in future

there would be no comment from the pulpit on the exciting issues of the

time; but we beg you to attribute this remark only to our sad circum-

stances ".

Einhorn, who was not in the habit of accepting restraining advice from

anyone, immediately sent a letter of resignation, dated May 16, 1861, in

which he thoroughly explained his reasons.

He never returned to Balti-

more.

In sharp contrast to Einhorn, Rabbi Bernard Illowy, who had succeeded

Rice as spiritual leader of the Baltimore Hebrew Congregation, did not

object to slavery

and defended States' Rights, including secession from

the Union, an issue on which Einhorn held passionately partisan views:

"Any Jew", he vehemently declared, "who lifts his hand against the

Union is, as a Jew, to be considered equal to a parricide."

It is indeed

amazing how patriotic these newly arrived immigrants could be. However,

on the great problems of the time Jewish clergymen and congregants, like

their Christian counterparts, were deeply divided.

The most learned Baltimore rabbi of the time was Benjamin Szold,

a peace-loving "middle-of-the-road" man who was, appropriately, rabbi

of the Oheb Shalom Congregation—Oheb Shalom means "one who loves

Peace". It was what we would today call a progressive Conservative

Synagogue, preserving some of the ancient ritual, but modifying and

changing it in several respects. Rabbi Szold, who is rightly regarded as

one of the spiritual ancestors of American Conservatism Judaism,

was

a prolific author, educator and preacher, and some of his works are still

occasionally cited. When he first arrived, in 1859, incidentally, with high

recommendations from the rabbinical seminary of Breslau, Silesia (in-

cluding one from the German-Jewish historian Heinrich Graetz) ,

he was,

for no ostensible reason, viciously attacked by Einhorn who generally,

according to contemporary testimony, "treated every one of his colleagues

like small and contemptible creatures", and was said to be "in all his

controversies . . . grossly personal and unfair."

After some initial hesi-

[ 34 ]

tation, Szold retaliated in kind, writing some polemical articles against his

formidable opponent. On the slavery issues, Szold tended to agree that

the enslavement of human beings was wrong, and he was loyal to the

Union. Indeed, he advocated the education of the freed Negroes—and was

promptly dubbed " The Rabbi of Timbuktu " by his opponents.

On the

other hand, he passionately believed in peace, and he consistently preached

reconciliation and negotiation. Within his limited sphere of influence he

tried to unite the two sides. It must be borne in mind that many Jewish

families were split up as a result of the Civil War, some backing the North,

while their brothers went off to join the Confederate army.

Rabbi Szold's peaceful disposition eventually asserted itself even in his

relations with Einhorn, whom, incidentally, he never met in person. Once

Einhorn had left for Philadelphia, the two rabbis ceased to be competitors,

and their subsequent correspondence indicates a much friendlier relation-

ship.

The Civil War was a major landmark in the history of the German

Jews in Baltimore. It effectively halted German-Jewish immigration. By

the time the war was over, the general position of German Jewry had

greatly improved, and complete emancipation was on the point of being

achieved even in backward, reactionary Bavaria. Economically, the Ger-

man Jews were on the road to prosperity, so that there was no inducement

to seek one's fortune overseas, except in isolated individual cases.

On the other hand, Christian Germans, many of whom suffered from

the effects of the German industrial revolution and occasional economic

depression, continued to migrate to the United States, including Baltimore,

where they comprised a sizeable section of the immigrant population.

This was probably the reason why the second generation of the German

Jews seceded from the German colony in which their fathers had been

fully integrated. The new American-born, English-speaking generation was

culturally different from the continuing stream of non-Jewish German

immigrants. The social and cultural gap which later developed between

the prosperous Americanized German Jews and the waves of poverty-

stricken Russian-Jewish immigrants was also in evidence in the relations

between the English-speaking American-born children of German-Jewish

origin and the German-speaking colony of non-Jewish immigrants from

Central Europe. Where there is no common language and culture, close

social contact must inevitably be difficult, if not impossible. Of course,

many of the earlier Christian immigrants from Germany also prospered and

became Americanized; but they as well as the Jews moved to different

neighborhoods. To the tenuous memory of linguistic and cultural links

there was added the physical distance of areas of residence. That was why

the so-called German solidarity, that close brotherhood of Germans of all

religions and classes, did not survive much beyond the first generation.

Even those Jews who retained their orthodox religious traditions beyond

the first generation did not for the most part maintain their social or

cultural associations with the non-Jewish German elements. As has been

aptly pointed out, "If they were orthodox, the Jewish element outweighed

their German background".

On the other hand, "if they were liberal,

the process of Americanization overcame the German-Jewish isolation ",

Yet, in a wider sense, the tradition of close cooperation between Jews

and Gentiles established by the German immigrants was continued by

their American-born descendants. They have actively participated in the

political, economic and cultural life of Maryland in general and of Baltimore

in particular. The number of Jews of German extraction who have played

[ 35 ]

prominent roles in the civic life of Baltimore would be too numerous to

mention individually.

Suffice it to say that in the sphere of education,

culture and medicine, Jews of German origin have distinguished themselves

far beyond the numerical proportion of the German-Jewish community of

Baltimore to the other ethnic groups of the city.

Summing up, we may point to some of the more important achievements

of Baltimore's German-Jewish community. The German-Jewish immigrants

pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps from poverty to affluence.

By and large, they maintained their basic religious traditions even while

fully integrating in the general community. Last, but not least, while

justifiably proud of the achievements of their ancestors, they have responded

generously to appeals for aid, irrespective of race, creed and color.

Occident, XIV, 8 (Nov. 1856), 406-8; XIV, 9 (Dec. 1856), 448 f.; Isidor Blum, The Jews of

Baltimore (Baltimore-Washington, 1910), 16.

Blum, op. cit., 28; Sinai, Vol. I, July, 1856, 189; American Jewish Year Book, Vol. II (1900-01),

269; William S. Rayner, Address containing the History of the Har Sinai Congregation, Nov. 18,

1892, 5.

S. Dubnow, Weltgeschichte des jüdischen Volkes (Berlin 1928), VIII, 247.

Ibid,, 248.

Ibid,, 249.

Ibid., 63.

Ibid., 63 f..

Ibid., 68.

Ibid., 326 f.

Ibid., 332.

Dieter Cunz, The Maryland Germans (Princeton 1948), 202.

Alexandra Lee Levin, The Szolds of Lombard Street (Philadelphia 1960), 22.

Cf., e. g., Sinai, Vol. II, No. 2, March 1857, 445 f.

Isidor Blum, The Jews of Baltimore (Baltimore-Washington 1910), 7, 57.

Ibid., 8. Dieter Cunz, op. cit., 331, suggests that in 1840 the number of German-Jewish families

in Baltimore was about 100, but this seems to be an underestimate.

Blum, op. cit., 8.

Ibid. Non-Jewish German immigrants likewise rendered considerable 'assistance to German

newcomers, though they also tried to dissuade and prevent poverty-stricken tramps and vagabonds

from coming over from Germany; cf. Cunz, op. cit., 202 f.

Ibid.

It was apparently because of the "continual absence of many of the members of the Jewish

community" that the formation of a congregation was delayed until 1830 (cf. Blum, op. cit., 9), despite

the fact that a congregational quorum must have been available for many years prior to 1830.

Cunz, op. cit., 331.

Cunz, op. cit., 252, 332.

Louis F. Cahn, The History of Oheb Shalom 1853-1953 (Baltimore 1953), 35.

Israel M. Goldman, Henry W. Schneeberger: His Role in American Judaism, American Jewish

Historical Quarterly, LVII, No. 2 (Dec. 1967), 157 ff.

Cited from a MS. in the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary by I. Tabak, Rabbi

Abraham Rice of Baltimore, Tradition, Vol. 7, No. 2 (Summer 1965), 102 f.

Letter of Rice to Leeser, dated August 24, 1851, in the Library of the Jewish Theological

Seminary.

Bertram W. Korn, American Jewry and the Civil War (Philadelphia 1951), 20 f.

Ibid., 21.

Sinai, Vol. VI, No. 5 (June 1861), 136.

Ibid., 138.

Cunz, op. cit., 307, n. 86.

Cf. A. Conrad & J. Meyer, Economics of Slavery (Chicago 1964), 51.

Cf. M. P. Andrews, Tercentenary History of Maryland (Chicago-Baltimore 1925), Vol. I, 776 ff.

Sinai, ibid.

Ibid., 140.

Ibid., 141.

Occident, XVIII, No. 44, 276 f., Jan. 24, 1861.

Sinai, VI, No. 7, 208. August 1861.

Moshe Davis, The Emergence of Conservative Judaism (Philadelphia 1963), 360 f.

Letter in the Archives of the Jewish Historical Society of Maryland.

The Israelite, No. 34, Feb. 24, 1860, 267.

Cunz, op. cit., 331, n. 23.

Ibid., 332.

Ibid.

For a partial list, cf. L. Putzel, The Jew in Political Life, in Blum, op. cit., 57 f..

For a partial list, cf. W. Rosenau, The Jews in Baltimore Education, in Blum, op. cit., 54 ff..

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