As we daven for the r’fuah sh’leimah of Rabbi Paysach Krohn, the maggid of Queens, we recognize the many things he does for our people as a lecturer, author, and guide to Jewish history. In the latter role, he’s taken people on tours of kivrei tzadikim in Poland and cemeteries closer to home. Although I’ve never taken his tour of the cemetery belt on the Brooklyn-Queens border, I had the opportunity to visit Union Field Cemetery last month for the k’vurah of Marilyn Goldsmith, a resident of Fresh Meadows and mother to a close friend.
I did not want to contribute to traffic congestion by joining the funeral convoy that made its way from Schwartz Brothers-Jeffer Memorial Chapels on Queens Boulevard to this cemetery, located off the Jackie Robinson Parkway. Arriving early, I took a self-guided tour of this historic cemetery. At its entrance is a Gothic-style chapel with offices. When it was built in 1927, it offered the convenience of a funeral service on the cemetery grounds.
In the lobby, a plaque noted the officers of Congregation Rodeph Sholom, the Reform temple on the Upper West Side that purchased land for this cemetery in 1846. When the chapel was constructed, its president was Henry M. [Mayer] Goldfogle [1856-1929]. A synagogue president is often an individual with means and, in this case, a Manhattan congressman.
On his grave is the inscription: “Author of the Resolution for the Abrogation of the Russian Treaty.” Perhaps the proudest achievement of his legislative career, this resolution followed the Kishinev pogrom of 1905, when the Russian government failed to prevent violence against Jews in the Moldovan city and other locations across the empire. Jewish activists in the United States sought to punish Russia for its mistreatment of Jews by canceling a trade treaty established in 1832. President Theodore Roosevelt sympathized with these voices but felt that it would hurt American business interests. His successor, William Howard Taft, was more receptive to the cancellation.
Taft’s cancellation of the treaty did not sway the Czar any more than sanctions against Vladimir Putin for his invasion of Ukraine, but it sent a message of not standing by idly.
Looking north, the pathway in the cemetery gently descends down the ridge past the graves of Mannheims and Oppenheimers, as Rodeph Shalom was founded by German Jews. Arriving as peddlers, the most famous among them advanced to own general stores, which became department stores, and investment banks. Known as “our crowd,” congregants of uptown Reform temples were the Jewish counterparts to the Carnegies, Morgans, and Rockefellers.
Rabbi Aaron Wise was their spiritual guide between 1876 and 1896. He was born in Hungary, descending from a long line of Orthodox rabbis, but upon arriving on these shores, he embraced Reform Judaism. In the century since, this denomination represented the majority of American synagogues, but in recent years has been declining as descendants of Wise’s generation are assimilating and intermarrying.
His son Stephen also became a rabbi, famously turning down the pulpit at Temple Emanu-El because the sermons had to be approved by the board. He then went across Central Park and founded the Free Synagogue. As for Stephen’s children, his son James was an author and art dealer, and grandson Stephen A. Wise was an attorney. He was married to Abby, a Presbyterian, had his funeral in a church, and was then cremated. Seems like the end for that family’s Jewish lineage.
On the opposite side of the denominational spectrum, this cemetery also honors Rabbi Jacob Joseph, the first and last Chief Rabbi of New York. His story here began in 1888, when 18 Orthodox congregations in Manhattan elected this Lithuanian scholar to be their unifying authority, tasked with enforcing kosher standards. His tenure was a tragedy, as most kosher butchers rejected his guidelines and he had no power to enforce them; not all Orthodox synagogues recognized his title, and neither did the Reformists. For these reasons, the title of Chief Rabbi died with him.
His son Raphael also served as a rabbi. His grandson Lazarus Joseph served as the city comptroller, the city’s highest ranking shomer Shabbos politician. Namesake grandson Capt. Jacob Joseph was killed in combat during World War II, with a playground on the Lower East Side perpetuating his name. Another grandson, Robert L. Joseph, was a playwright. He did not have children.
The Fischel monument is partially a cenotaph [individual/s buried elsewhere], with Jane Fischel buried here in 1935, but her husband Harry was buried in 1947 at the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. He was one of the earliest Orthodox Jewish millionaires in this country, an example that one can achieve financial success without compromising his religious values. The Fischels had four daughters. To ensure that his last name lives on, he was a massive philanthropist to Jewish causes, including Yeshiva University. His generosity kept the school afloat during the Great Depression.
Harry Fischel’s daughters married men who shared their religious values, and they have many descendants today living here and in Israel.
As legacies are concerned, the Rabbi Jacob Joseph School on Staten Island continues to perpetuate his ideals, while the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue on the Upper West Side does the same for its namesake.
German Jews are known for preserving their lineage, expressing pride in their genealogy. Salomon and Hulda Lesser’s gravestone notes that they were born in Exin, Prussia, which corresponds to today’s Kcynia, Poland.
Last names were bestowed on the general population in the early 19th century by Prussian authorities, just before Salomon Lesser was born. Lesser is derived from Eliezer, Salomon’s father. Among his many descendants is Rabbi Uri Lesser, Rav of Bais Torah U’Tefillah of West Hempstead, who happens to be his great-great-great-great-grandson. Outside of aristocracy and those who inherited generational wealth, most folks can’t name an ancestor so distant, but the Lesser family can! Statistically, it is remarkable that after so many generations, Salomon and Hulda have Orthodox descendants. Dr. Robert Lesser, the father of Rabbi Lesser, noted that this couple was not very religious, but his son is raising seven children.
We take comfort that Mrs. Goldsmith is at rest among so many individuals who left a lasting impact on society.
By Sergey Kadinsky
