Jewish Labor Committee, [194-?]. Ontario Jewish Archives, Blankenstein Family Heritage Centre, fonds 10, item 29.
I am a Master’s student in Geography at York University, where I’ve developed an interest in modern Jewish history; in particular that of the 20th century Jewish left. For my thesis, I’m looking into the transnational practices and narratives of solidarity expressed by the Jewish Labour Committee (JLC) in Canada. Founded in the 1930s, the JLC emerged in response to the needs of refugees from war-torn Europe. It would later make leading contributions to the civil rights and human rights movements in Canada, working closely with the broader Canadian labour movement. The JLC’s origins can also be traced back to the Bund, one among many different tendencies within the Jewish left and an Eastern European Yiddishkeit.
Preliminary research at the OJA over the past few months has been useful in guiding the direction of my master’s thesis. Available at the OJA is an extensive collection on the Jewish left, with material on the JLC. This includes letters and correspondences, press releases, committee reports, newspaper clippings, opinion pieces, photographs, among other assorted material. There are, in addition, digital copies of oral histories from leading figures of the Canadian Jewish left, as well as archived publications like the New Fraternal Jewish Association’s (NFJA) Fraternally Yours, Outlookmagazine, and the Yiddish-language newspapers Vochenblattand Der Veg (The Way). Much of this material was produced, received, and collected by the JLC and other organizations with which it forged close ties from the 1940s up to the early 1990s.
As an outsider to the Canadian Jewish community, I never expected to be drawn to the story of the Jewish left as much as I have been. And it certainly is a story -- one of a people caught between the traumatic ruptures of the 20th century, attacked from both far left and right. Yet rather than turn inward, they would extend their solidarity to communities well beyond their own: from Black Canadians in Halifax to Chilean refugees from the Pinochet dictatorship to First Nations communities in BC. They would see, in their experiences of displacement and oppression, a mirror into their own people’s struggle against injustice, and for acceptance in the places where they found themselves living.
In Canada, the pivotal contributions of the Jewish community, and the labour movement in general, to the country’s vision of itself (real or imagined) as something of a bastion for human rights, racial tolerance and multiculturalism, has sadly been neglected over the years. Returning to this history is more important than ever, I believe, as we enter a period of mutual hate, intolerance, and divisiveness worldwide -- where these hard-won gains appear to be increasingly under threat. That said, it is a topic that certainly deserves to be treated with an equal measure of critical objectivity and sympathy.
With that objective in mind, I hope to continue looking through the OJA’s collection, and pursuing further research along these lines. My gratitude extends to the archivists here -- Donna, in particular-- who have been warm and incredibly supportive.
Christopher John Chanco MA candidate, York University
Bill and Esther Steele Walsh pose with Michael and John Steele, late 1940s. Ontario Jewish Archives, Blankenstein Family Heritage Centre, accession 2017-2/12.
Esther, Michael, John and Dick Steele, ca. 1941. Ontario Jewish Archives, Blankenstein Family Heritage Centre, accession 2017-2/12.
Ideas, adventure, activism, internment, war, love: the lives of Dick Steele, Bill Walsh and Esther Slominsky hold the elements of an epic novel. Steele, a tank driver in the Canadian Army, died at the Falaise Gap during the Allied invasion of German-occupied France on 17 August, 1944. He left behind his young wife Esther and their twin sons Michael and John in Toronto. Bill Walsh, also positioned on the front, heard about his best friend Dick’s death after several anxious weeks in the chaos of war. Walsh had lost his wife Anne (Weir), just a year before. Bill vowed to Esther that he would come home from the war and help take care of the boys.
This aspect of their story alone is tragic and beautiful. But there is so much more to discover in the records. In another letter from the front Bill wrote to Esther on October 2, 1944: “Have my first souvenir for you. A German corporal’s stripes. He got on his knees begging not to be killed. He was my prisoner and so he’s still alive. I hope the next one doesn’t raise the white flag or drop to his knees so quickly. Love, Esther dear xxx Bill.”
Letter from Bill Walsh to Esther Steele, 2 October, 1944 with German Corporal stripes. Ontario Jewish Archives, Blankenstein Family Heritage Centre, accession 2017-2/12.
With this expressed passion and proven example of fighting Nazis it is amazing that the Government of Canada and the RCMP worked so hard to prevent Dick Steele, Bill Walsh and over 100 of their Communist comrades from enlisting in the armed forces.
Dick Steele (short for Richard Kenilworth Steele) was the adopted name of Montreal-born Moses Kosowatsky. Dick met William “Bill” Walsh (born Moishe Wolofsky) while attending Commercial High School in Montreal. Bill’s father was Herschel Wolofsky, editor of the Keneder Adler. From the moment of Bill and Dick’s first meeting, their lives became entwined. Dick followed Bill to New York City to work and study at Columbia University. Bill was working as a runner on Wall Street and at Western Union on the day that the stock market crashed.
Having enough of the hustle of trying to survive in New York City during the Depression, Bill and Dick decided to travel to Europe. In 1931, they found a job on a boat sailing to Denmark, and from there hitchhiked though Europe ending up as factory workers in the Soviet Union. Their adventure is documented in their memoir “From the Land of Despair to the Land of Promise” and was commissioned by the Comintern (Communist International). The opening line of Chapter One, “The Making of Bourgeois Ideology in the School”, is addressed to “G” who had been elected Valedictorian of Montreal’s Baron Byng High School (the Protestant school with a 99% Jewish student population). The authors hoped that “the following reminiscences may perhaps help you in your criticism of a system which is responsible for the illusory dreams and stagnation of the middle classes and their total ignorance of the ‘Class Struggle.’” This journey inspired them to become Communists.
In 1933, Herschel went on a Canadian diplomatic mission to Poland and took a side trip to Moscow to take Bill home. Bill sought the guidance of the Comintern who advised him to return to Montreal with his father. Back in Montreal he waited to make contact with the Communist Party. At the time, members of the Communist Party of Canada (CPC) were being targeted for arrest by R.B. Bennett’s Conservative government under Section 98 of Canada’s Criminal Code. Eventually Bill connected with other Jewish Communists and labour organizers Lea Roback, Sidney Sarkin and Fred Rose. At the request of Rose, Bill hosted members of the Worker’s Unity League who were in town for a convention including Joshua Gershman and Charlie Sims. Sims encouraged Bill to move to Toronto.
Bill arrived in Toronto in 1934 in time for May Day. On his first day of work as Education Director at the Industrial Union of Needle Trade Workers (a union whose leadership was dominated by communists), he met Esther Slominsky, the organization’s office manager. They became comrades and friends. Bill introduced Esther to Dick when he arrived in Toronto and they later married. Michael and John Steele were born in 1940.
Dick and Bill became active union organizers and worked in various locations around Ontario. Dick, a trained metal worker, became an organizer for the Steel Workers Organizing Committee of Canada and the Congress of Industrial Organizations. Bill worked to organize rubber workers into an industrial union in Kitchener and the Auto Workers of Canada in Windsor. Both were members of the CPC.
Dick Steele giving a speech to steel workers, ca. late 1930s. Ontario Jewish Archives, Blankenstein Family Heritage Centre, accession 2017-2/12.
In August 1939, Germany and the Soviet Union signed a non-aggression pact. The following month, on 1 September, Germany invaded Poland. Britain and France declared war two days later. Following this, the Comintern ordered all Communist Parties around the world to oppose the “Imperialist” war. Canadian Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King’s Liberal government enacted the War Measures Act on 10 September which gave the RCMP greater power to crack down on communists who they claimed were pro-fascist and a threat to Canada’s security. Members of the CPC subsequently went underground. It is at this time that Dick Steele began to sign his letters to Esther as “Jack”, the name adopted by his brother Mortimer when he fought and died in the Spanish Civil War.
On New Year’s Eve 1941, after a secret rendezvous in London, Ontario with Dick and with Bill’s brother-in-law Charlie Weir, Bill was arrested by the RCMP. Dick had returned to Hamilton a few days prior and thus had avoided the arrest. Bill was sent first to the Ontario Reformatory at Guelph, and then to an internment camp in Hull with 60 other Communists.
In November 1941, after Mackenzie King's call for enlistment, Dick wrote to the Department of Justice to ask permission to join the army. He never received a reply. On 1 April 1942, Dick's home was raided and he was interned at the Don Jail until September 1942 when he was moved to the Ontario Reformatory in Guelph.
Major public campaigning by communists and the wartime alliance with the USSR after 1941 shifted public opinion toward the CPC and the Canadian Government slowly began releasing internees in January 1942. Dick was released in October 1942 and enlisted at the end of the month.
Photo:Dick Steele enlists in the Canadian Armed Forces, 1942. Ontario Jewish Archives, Blankenstein Family Heritage Centre, accession 2017-2/12.
Bill was released in October 1942. After getting married in Montreal, Bill and Anne were sent by the CPC to Windsor. In 1943, Anne died tragically in Bill’s arms, possibly from drinking unpasteurized milk. Bill enlisted in the Canadian army after her death. Bill and Dick were able to briefly reunite during the war while both were posted in England.
At the end of the war, and following Dick’s death at the front, Bill returned to Toronto and married Esther in 1946. Esther was working for the United Electrical Workers (UE), and Bill was invited to join their Hamilton region where he remained for 20 years. He was in Hamilton during the Stelco strike of 1946. Their daughter Sheri was born in Hamilton in 1956. Bill remained a member of the CPC until 1967, and the family were longtime members of the United Jewish People’s Order. Bill died in 2004. Esther passed away in 2010 at age 96.
The documents, photographs and sound recordings in the Steele and Walsh fonds help preserve an important part of Canadian Jewish history. The Canadian Jewish Congress, which started both the Ontario Jewish Archives (1973) and the Canadian Jewish Congress Archives (1934), expelled its Communist members after the Second World War and subsequently made little effort to collect the records of Communists during the following decades. Records of Jewish Communists were historically scattered to various Canadian archives. With the acquisition of the Steele and Walsh family fonds, the OJA helps expand the availability of primary sources on Jewish individuals involved in the Labour-progressive movement in Ontario, of Jewish Communists who were interned during the Second World war and of those who fought in it.
Click here to learn more about the Steele and Walsh Family fonds.
Stephanie Tara Schwartz, PhD Researcher and Writer, Ontario Jewish Archives
Over the past two years, I have had the pleasure of meeting with over 100 immigrants from South Africa and Zimbabwe as part of the OJA’s Southern African Legacy Project [read more about SALP here]. The people I have met have lived fascinating and varied lives in Canada – from one man who started a museum on the history of contraception, to another who is a doctor and travelled the world on medical missions, to a prominent female entrepreneur who invented her own line of mirrors. With each shared photograph, document, and story, the larger history and legacy of this immigrant community as leaders, philanthropists and community builders begins to emerge. The records also reveal the community’s unique sense of humour, friendliness and warmth.
I am so grateful to all the people who have welcomed me into their homes or taken the time to visit me at the archives. It has been a fascinating experience and I have learned so much along the way. As we approach the final phase of this project, I thought it would be fitting to share some of the interesting facts I have learned alongside my own personal observations:
Eli Bloch in South Africa during the Boer War, [1900?]. OJA, accession #2016-7/9.
The earliest Jewish South African immigrant to Ontario I have learned about is Eli Bloch. He arrived in Toronto in 1907 while working as a travelling salesman selling ostrich feathers (a fashion trend at the time). He met his future wife here and stayed.
When leaving South Africa in the later half of the 1900s, there was a restriction on how much money emigrants could take with them out of the country. As a result, many brought non-perishable items with them or other valuable items, such as rugs and jewelry, which they could sell in Canada.
Canada often wasn’t the first or only place immigrants considered (many considered Israel, the USA or Australia). The decision to move to Canada was carefully planned and thought through. Some even travelled to various destinations before choosing where to go (called a “look-see” trip).
Most of the people I have met have immediate family members spread out in various parts of the world – mostly in Australia, Israel, England, and South Africa.
All the people I met had maids and/or gardeners in South Africa. When they arrived in Canada many South Africans had to adjust to the new lifestyle without this help. One woman explained to me that she has still never cooked herself a meal (she arrived in early 1980s when she was in her 60s)
Hilton Silberg in his pharmacy in Dundas, ON, in 1984. OJA, accession #2015-9/2.
All the South Africans I have spoken to have impressed upon me how violent it was there. For instance, one woman from Zimbabwe explained that when they went on road trips, they always drove in large caravans with armoured vehicles. Nearly all tell me how lucky I am to live in Canada.
Everyone I met who immigrated to Canada after the 1950s left South Africa due to its Apartheid politics and/or the worsening violence in the country. Most people described how they did not want to raise their children in that environment and saw no future for them there.
Most of the people I have met went to a Jewish Day School in South Africa. Their positive experiences led many of them to send their children to Jewish Day Schools in Canada.
Many of the people I have met have been incredibly successful in their lives in Canada. Many became leaders in their fields, worked hard to grow successful businesses and build a new life in Canada, and are committed to volunteer and philanthropic activities.
Everyone I have met is proud to live in Canada. Most people tell me it is the best place in the world to live.
The project has been a tremendous success, with dozens of recorded oral history interviews and thousands of collected photographs and documents for the archives collection. In fall 2017, we will be launching a dynamic online exhibition showcasing these incredible stories. I encourage anyone who would like to participate to contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org or 416-635-5391 x. 5110.
Three days until the first seder, and I’m sifting through Box 45-7 H-16, feeling vaguely rushed. There’s no real urgency, but somehow the days just before Passover always seem shorter. Maybe it’s all the cooking and preparing and paranoid cleaning. But there’s always that sense of rushing toward something you’ve anticipated, and then it happening so quickly you don’t even get to enjoy those last few moments of waiting. I bet the Exodus felt the same way, but with the added disappointment of wasting so much perfectly good dough.
Thumbing through Box 45-7 H-16, I’m skimming past folders and folders. I’m looking for files with Yiddish on them, but I’ll stop if something else seems interesting. “Orphanage – Poland” doesn’t strike me at first (it’s too tangential to my search, not relevant enough, not Yiddish), but as I glance past I notice the pages are a thick faded blue cardstock – rare, in this collection. I pause and pull the folder, a collection of files on kids in an orphanage in Poland after the war. The documents are in Polish, but attached to each file is a handwritten English translation. Skimming a few, I take note of the English handwriting: not the looped rhythmic patterns of the Palmer Method, but a kind of jagged cursive with the harsher edges and points that I associate with early 20th-century European penmanship. My Polish grandmother wrote in exactly the same style. It always seemed messy to me, but suddenly I realize that it must have been taught; clearly other Polish-speakers also wrote this way. I take a quick snapshot of the file and make a mental note to mention this later to my mother, who will appreciate both the sobering content of the documents and the handwriting quirk, and file the folder back into its box, return it to its shelf, and move on to the next H-box on Shelf 45-7. There is more Yiddish in H-17 and H-18.
As I walk out of the archive, I remember to text my mother the photo. “Just like Bubbie’s handwriting!” I write. “It was a style.” “Gott in himmel!!!” she responds, “How could that NOT be her writing!?!!?” A few minutes later I send her another larger handwriting sample and then a photo of one of the blue orphan files. “From a collection of files on kids in an orphanage in Poland. Most born in 1936-1942,” I say. And she says, “Omg. That’s my mom’s.”
My mother remembers, sometime in the 1990s, her mother intersecting with the owner of a photo album from this orphanage, and later, with the owner of these files, and she remembers her translating them into English. My grandmother often did translation work; we’ve lost track of most of it. But on this particular day, in this particular H-box, I went looking for Yiddish documents, and instead stumbled onto my own grandmother’s handwriting – and recognized it. The only question now is whether I can recognize my responsibility to do something with it, to finish the story or at least find out where it begins.
Written by: Miriam Borden
After a few years immersed in rabbinic text and narratology, Miriam graduated from the University of Toronto as a Specialist in Jewish Studies, packed up, and headed for the north of England to take a break, try some great cheeses, and live among the sheep and rolling green hills. She returned to Toronto to pursue an M.A. in Yiddish (expected graduation 2017), and along the way discovered an amazing opportunity to examine Yiddish in the OJA collection. Currently, she is exploring Yiddish among Toronto’s 20th-century Jews, specifically in the Kensington Market neighbourhood, and still eating a lot of great cheese.
The voices on this recording illuminate the achievement of the Jewish community in the late 1950s when they built the Bathurst JCC at 4600 Bathurst Street. As the community moved northward, there was a need for a new athletic and cultural centre to service the families living in the surrounding neighbourhoods. The new Northern ‘Y’ was dedicated in 1961 at Bathurst Street and Sheppard Avenue in a beautiful ravine.
Fourteen years later, a new cultural and physical education wing was added to better serve the needs of its members. This included the addition of the Leah Posluns Theatre and the Koffler Centre of the Arts. The BJCC thrived for decades, offering members a place to gather, socialize, play sports, nosh, exercise, dance, swim, and build community.
In late August of this year, the OJA received an exciting donation of audio recordings from the company Kay Radio. Included is a recording of the North Y groundbreaking ceremonies from the winter of 1958 when community leaders, rabbis, and local politicians gathered to celebrate this moment. Some of the individuals identified speaking are: Rabbi Feinberg, Ellis I. Shapiro, Sam Granatstein, Kelso Roberts (Attorney General of Ontario), Fred Gardiner, Vernon Singer, and Mayor Nathan Phillips.
When you listen to the audio, you can hear the praise for the community's “forward-thinkingness” in building a "Y" on this property by those who spoke at this ceremony. And, their words remain relevant today as the community embarks on rebuilding this campus for the current and future generations.