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By Dr. Cyril Gryfe

Shlome Graif learned the bread-baking craft in Romania from his father as did Shlome’s older brother, Zacharia. In 1910, Shlome followed his two older sisters to Hamilton, Ontario, where, at first, he was unable to find work as a baker. His experience in a hot and dusty work environment proved to be an asset in tolerating his thankfully brief role as a labourer in the foundry of Hamilton’s International Harvester Company. Eventually he was employed by a local Jewish bakery. Around 1916, he became the independent baker, Sam Gryfe, York Street, Hamilton.

By 1920, relations between the two brothers and the two sisters appear to have cooled, and Sam and Zach (now Jack) moved to Toronto. After working in Aaron Perlmutar’s bakery at 175 Baldwin Street for a few years, Sam again decided to exercise his independence and in 1925 acquired the property at 319 Augusta Avenue, for which an oven needed to be built. 

Nearby, on Major Street he found bricklayer Lipa Green, who, although certainly experienced in building fireplaces and chimneys, confessed that he had never before built a baker’s oven. Sam, however, had built at least one outdoor oven in Hamilton, and Mr. Green thus learned a new skill, which was subsequently the basis for his three sons to also learn the craft of bricklaying. 

While Sam and Molly were raising their children, their expectation was that the offspring would join the family business. Firstborn Bill resisted the task of actually baking, but became the very effective sales agent for the business. He started as a pre-teen with sister Ida, as the two peddled kaiser rolls on city streetcars from a large, wheeled wicker basket. 

Second son, Art, apparently harbored ideas of becoming an engineer or an architect, but Sam was insistent, and Art, followed by Ben, then Srul all became skilled bakers—their participation in the family business first proudly proclaimed in 1930 as “S. Gryfe & Sons Bakery.” 

Bill’s outside interests included athletics, which led him to create a club with its gym in part of the bakery building. and the club was named the Crown Athletic Club after a suggestion from one of the club members. By 1936, the sign on the window at 319 Augusta Avenue had become “Crown Bakery.”

Like his father, Art had aspirations of independence. In 1938—after marrying Ruth Price—he went to work in Philip Newman’s National Bakery at 404 Spadina Avenue for about five years. In 1945, he was a partner of Louis Silverberg in Atlas Bakery on St. Clair Avenue West.  Shortly thereafter, he ventured out with Ruth to acquire Chisholm’s Bakery at 298 Queen Street East. Persevering through five setbacks over the following ten years (including relentless antisemitism at the Queen Street location) Art and Ruth finally grasped success when, in 1957, they acquired Esther Sky’s Bakery at 3435 Bathurst Street, which has become famous as Gryfe’s Bagels.

The story of the recipe for the bagels that finally rewarded Art and Ruth has several very different versions, but whatever may be the actual history of the bagels’ recipe has been made irrelevant by the bagels’ unique quality that perpetuates their fame.  

Remaining bakers Ben and Srul drifted away from the family business, and in 1947 Sam sold Crown Bakery to Ben Richman and Max Hartstone, who in 1952 changed the name to Crown Bread and expanded to include 311 Augusta Avenue. However, Sam could not abandon his lifelong and familial devotion to baking and in 1950 opened a bakery in Jackson’s Point, Ontario, where he and Molly worked until their retirement and return to Toronto in 1955.  In 1954, Crown Bread opened a branch at 1246 Eglinton Avenue West, but both sites were closed by 1963.

Sam’s brother, Jack, also adhered to the family’s baking legacy. After they moved to Toronto, Jack worked at Samuel Zimmerman’s bakery at 17 Phoebe Street, before venturing out himself in the mid 1920s on Kensington Avenue. By the mid 1930s he was firmly established at 4 Fitzroy Terrace, where he lived and worked until retiring in 1952.

Jack’s eldest child, Morris, also learned the craft from his father. After working for Canada Bread for a few years, he and his wife Jean moved to Phoenix, Arizona, where she enjoyed a more favorable climate for her chronic respiratory illness, and Morris (now known as Murray) continued to work as a baker.

Cyril Gryfe is a retired physician, who specialized in geriatric medicine. Listening to his patients report their medical symptoms within the context of their long and often complicated life stories, perpetuated and reinforced his interest in history in general, which had been kindled during high school studies. Throughout his professional career this was focused on the history of medical practice, and in more recent years he has also devoted much time to the genealogy of his extended family.   

By Renée Saucier

I was initially attracted to the Penny Rubinoff Fellowship because of the opportunity to engage in all aspects of the archival field in a community archives setting (see my previous post), and I am pleased to report that that is exactly what I’ve been doing. I’ve been working in several areas and on several projects, all with the shared aim of providing access to documentation of the Jewish experience in Ontario.

In addition to developing my skills as an archivist, I’ve been gaining a deeper understanding of the matrices of relationships underpinning this particular community archives. Community archivists work with records, but the core of their work consists of building and maintaining relationships with records donors (and their families), educators, partner organizations, researchers/users, volunteers, board members, financial supporters, and other community members. ‘Community’ itself is a messy/complex term, for any given community has contested boundaries and is in fact composed of multiple overlapping communities—in the OJA’s case, communities that are spread throughout and across the province. Each day, I learn more about the religious, ethnic, racial, political and linguistic diversity of Ontario’s Jewish communities, and my time here has been an opportunity to learn how the OJA’s dedicated staff approach their work and undertake to preserve and share back documentation of the diverse range of experiences of Ontario’s Jewish communities.

Collections Development & Donors

I have had the opportunity to work one-on-one with donors to advise on and coordinate the donation of records to the Ontario Jewish Archives. As well, I have been working to help build the OJA’s collections through the Bathurst Manor Project, the OJA’s major collections development initiative for 2020. (You’ll hear more on that in the coming months!) I have surveyed our current holdings, identified and consulted relevant holdings elsewhere, and helped to plan focus group meetings to determine our collecting priorities.

Welcoming New Materials into the Archives

I spent my first few weeks accessioning new collections. This was a means for me to familiarize myself with the OJA’s holdings and procedures, as well as a way to help reduce the current backlog (…every archive has one!) I’ve accessioned a variety of media including textual records, photographs, slides, and film. Along the way I’ve learned about the OJA’s procedures for rehousing different media and have also had the opportunity to develop appraisal criteria. One highlight was an accession of photographs and slides created by Stephen Speisman and donated by Bill Gladstone; these images capture downtown Toronto synagogues in the 1960s-70s, documenting the changing use of the buildings as congregations merged and/or moved northward.

Making Records Accessible

One of my main projects has been processing records created and accumulated by the Executive Director/CEO of the UJA Federation of Greater Toronto. These records occupy a dozen banker’s boxes and span the late 1970s through the 2000s. Given the high-level nature of the work done by this office, the records pertain to a variety of activities involving an array of partners and groups, documenting initiatives ranging from integration services for Soviet Jewish immigrants in the 1980s to the formation of an AIDS Task Force and Policy in the early 1990s.

I have a personal interest in the history of information and communication technologies, and these records offer portals into the materiality of that history. For example, there is an observable shift in the medium of correspondence from typewritten documents and signed letters to faxes and then printed-off emails. Meeting minutes and budget proposals document the adoption of new technologies, including the establishment of an “online Internet presence” and a “Jewish Information Highway”. On a related note, I am excited to be on board to observe and learn about the OJA’s process in selecting and introducing a digital preservation program to preserve born-digital materials documenting Ontario’s Jewish communities.

Access: Behind the Scenes, Behind the Screens

I have also been supporting my colleague Faye with the OJA’s social media outreach, brainstorming, researching and designing posts for Facebook and Instagram. One focus here has been to feature ‘behind the scenes’ posts every week to enhance our audience’s understanding of archives and the work that takes place in them. We’re going to be featuring highlights from the Koffler family fonds, sharing both the materials and also the processes by which they are cared for and made accessible. One of the goals of our social media strategy is to convey the historical significance and importance of family and individual records and to encourage others to donate their materials to the archives.

One of my most enjoyable responsibilities has been providing reference services to researchers over email and in person on topics ranging from war criminals to revolutionary youth to family-run businesses in Kensington Market. Some researchers come to the OJA in order to recover details of stories that they were never fully told, such as a parent or grandparent’s immigration to Canada. Their experiences here demonstrate how community archives can support an individual in attaining a deeper understanding of themselves, their family’s history, and their relationship to larger historical events. Other times, researchers who aren’t expressly researching Jewish history in Ontario contact the archives because their topics (such as radical leftist organizing) have an historic association with segments of the Jewish community and are therefore richly documented in our holdings. These cases demonstrate the important role of community archives in supporting collective memory not only for their direct community, but for all of society.

By Bronwyn Cragg

Entering my final year as an undergraduate, I have hit the inevitable crossroads: what should I be doing with the rest of my life? For the past four years, I have been studying at the University of Toronto. I had originally majored in history–I had a dream in high school of becoming a Holocaust researcher–but over time my interests expanded, and I found myself switching to Jewish studies. Minoring in art history and German studies, my skillset and interests have drawn me to two options: continuing in academia or becoming an archivist. Thus, the OJA felt like a natural choice: here I could get a feel for the field while still engaged in subjects that I’m interested in.

I had initially sent in a request to volunteer sometime in 2018 but was encouraged to email back the following summer. Still excited about the idea of volunteering, I emailed back the following year and was asked to come in around August to get a feel for what I would be working on. For the past month, I have been getting a taste of a whole slew of archival work: At first, I was tasked with creating posts for the OJA’s social media accounts, and for the first two weeks I worked on sorting through and scanning items relating to Camp Yungvelt, a Yiddish summer camp established in 1925 that was once nestled in the woodland of Pickering.

By the next day I had moved onto the J. B. Salsberg fonds, which provided both a fascinating and intimate look at the history of Communist politics in Toronto, alongside a healthy amount of mid-century graphics. On my supervisor Faye’s suggestion, I even completed a weeks’ worth of posts about the history of Jewish cinema in Ontario, the archives hosting a decent collection of photographs of the glitzy art deco architecture of twentieth-century theatres.

With newly-acquired experience in scanning and filing items, I then began to process accessions. Though perhaps one of the more tedious parts of working at the OJA, I had fun sorting through boxes, figuring out how to best organize items, and finding a way to enter details in the system that would make the files easily accessible to researchers. Our acquisitions from Canadian Young Judaea provided a glimpse into the history of Zionist movements in Canada and even youth aliyah, and my interest in the Yiddish language led me to a number of related boxes, including the archives of the Toronto-based Friends of Yiddish, for which I organized photographs, flyers, and administrative records. I was also able to work on several family archives and was even able to flex my language skills by translating letters, documents, and photograph captions from Yiddish, German, and Polish. (I thought Yiddish handwriting could be a stress to decipher, but 1920s Polish handwriting was something else!)

One of the more personally-rewarding aspects of working at the Ontario Jewish Archives has been sifting through family photo albums. Quaint, tender, and at times heart-bursting, piecing together family stories through photographs and scraps was, to me, one of the most compelling parts of the job. I have experienced my fair share of listening to others’ family stories and poking around photographs and files. But as a student whose focus has been Holocaust studies, I’ve barely had the chance to consume average, candid, slice-of-life narratives. To discover individual histories of immigration, failures and successes, family growth, and Jewish contributions to Ontario culture was immensely satisfying, even if it did mean that I had to sort past the occasional illegible postcard or utilities bill.

Though I feel like my time at the Ontario Jewish Archives was much too short, it has certainly cemented my desire to go into archival- or research-based work. This August I was able to use a whole host of my skills–from languages to administrative skills, to knowledge of Jewish history and making use of my art history-trained eyes–but there was never any point where I felt tapped out or bored. My time at the OJA has helped me to expand my interests to (perhaps ironically) a local scale. And though I still feel the panic of having eight months to figure out the rest of my life and career, I now know that I can make an informed decision and that archival work is a fulfilling and exciting choice. I look forward to potential future involvement with the archives, whether that be continuing my volunteer work or using it as the vast and rich research resource that it is.

Bronwyn Cragg is a fourth year undergraduate student of Jewish studies, German, and art history at the University of Toronto. His present research interests include fascism and the Holocaust in WWII Romania, and he has recently written works on art, aesthetics, and nation building in Mandatory Palestine. Bronwyn is currently studying Yiddish and seeks to continue his studies through translation, original research, and archival work.

Starting this week, instead of biking past the Miles Nadal JCC on my way to the University of Toronto’s St George campus, I’ll be taking the Bathurst bus north to the Ontario Jewish Archives. I recently graduated from the University of Toronto’s Master of Information program, where I specialized in archives and records management. I spent the past two years working at the University of Toronto Libraries’ web archiving program, and the past year volunteering at The ArQuives (formerly the Canadian Lesbian & Gay Archives), where I am currently processing the Inside Out LGBT+ Film Festival fonds.

As an archivist with a special interest in web archiving and community archives, I’m particularly concerned with the preservation of the very recent past and present. I was immediately drawn to the Penny Rubinoff Fellowship as an opportunity to continue to do this work, as well as to further develop my skills and acquire a deeper understanding of the operational aspects of a community archive. Having become familiar with Toronto’s early Jewish community while conducting research for the History of the Hospital for Sick Children project, I am curious to learn more about Jewish history throughout Ontario, and how this community archive works to build relationships with and preserve the histories of these many diverse communities.

Over the next four months, I will be engaged in all aspects of the Ontario Jewish Archives: accessioning materials, assisting researchers with reference requests, planning community collaborations, spotlighting materials on the website, and gaining insight into the operational aspects of the OJA. I am particularly excited to be on board to observe how the archive team plans and prepares to adopt a new digital preservation system. I have been warmly welcomed into the organization, and look forward to all that the next few months have to offer.

The time I spent at the OJA was the greatest adventure ever. I was a practicum student and volunteered for 105 hours. As a future information professional and a graduate student at the University of Toronto, I was happy to be a part of the OJA family because being part of a family makes you feel appreciated and proud of yourself. And I am really grateful for being part of the family.

I decided to take the practicum course because one of my course mates (Ritchie Singh) recommended it. Before volunteering, I kept wondering how I could gain Canadian work experience, and I always imagined what the social work sphere would be like if I finally had the opportunity. However, when I got the chance to volunteer at the OJA, Michael Friesen (my supervisor and boss), I will admit, I admired his work efficiency and accuracy. If I could choose a supervisor again, I would choose him all over again. Oh, did I forget to mention Donna and Faye? They were terrific and accommodating. I could remember the uncountable times I approached Faye for answers. These three people made sure that my time at the OJA was worth it. 

Okay, let’s get into it! My early days at work, my nerves were on the edge. Although I studied the theoretical aspect of recordkeeping, putting it into practice was a difficult task. I didn't know where to start from -- it all started from trial-and-error. As time went on, I finally got my balance.

I started by completing the background of the organization, including its history and activities. I re-arranged the documents and created finding aids, assessed the condition of the records, created a file-level finding aid, and transferred all the records to acid-free boxes. Using Rules for Archival Description, I also arranged the records into files and series, created item-level descriptions, and assisted in creating a fonds-level description in the recordkeeping database.

To me, the work made me feel like an investigator, especially the administrative history. I tried to put some pieces of information together to make sense of what I was proposing to my supervisor. However, I can say I feel differently toward my career as a future archivist because I know what my expectations are for the future.

My observation: I am not exactly sure about this, but are all archivists very quiet at work? OJA is one of the quietest workplaces I have ever been to, and I loved it. Well, if I should be truthful about who I am, I like a very calm place where I can be in my world, and I was glad to be placed there. At OJA, you could only hear keyboard clicks for hours and all eyes on computers. But there is a fun part: During working hours, I used my headphones to keep myself busy while working on my assignments. Overall, it was worth the ride.