If you're one of those people who assumes if it's history, it has to be boring, well, please, don't read Western States Jewish History, the quarterly publication that rounds up stories about Jews in the West.

After all, disabusing you of such a notion could be counter-productive  If lots of people suddenly start reading history, instead of fiction, waiting lists for books at the library could become longer.  Also, it probably would take longer for historical works  to be put out on the booksellers' discount table.   

On the other hand, if you, like me, enjoy a good anecdote—regardless of whether you know the people involved, or not—this little quarterly (which lists me as a "southwest advisor") serves up quite a few of them.  Take the Fall 2004 issue, the most recent to hit my mailbox.  It has the photograph of the  late Rabbi William M. Kramer of Los Angeles on the cover.

Kramer had his own special way of looking at things.  Two quotations from him, reprinted in the quarterly, may suffice to give you a feeling for his sense of humor.  The first: "I do not think of the divisions of Judaism as divisions.  I am annoyed when asked, after I have been introduced as a Rabbi, 'What kind of Rabbi are you?' I know what they want me to answer, but I answer as I want. 'Jewish,' I say, 'Jewish!'"  Another: "Did you know that you can sing Ma'oz Tzur to the melody of Silent Night? I did so one Chanukah night at the Seminary. Dr. Dinen was not amused."

A second article reprints portions of the diary of Samuel J. Freudenthal, a businessman and political figure, in El Paso, Texas, at the turn of the 20th century. In it, he told of the time that a vaudeville company came to town, advertising that ticket buyers could look forward to beautiful, negligee-dancing girls. As Freudenthal told it: "Businessmen were just as susceptible to the lure of feminine pulchritude in those days as they are today.  So a number of our local tycoons, with what they thought was the greatest of secrecy, purchased a box on the side of the house at the foot of the stage.  However, one, or perhaps, several, of those gentlemen must have talked in their sleep, for the wives found out the plans of their husbands.  When the men walked gaily into their box just before the curtain was rung up, there were their wives facing them from another box on the opposite side of the stage!  The rest of the audience, quickly catching on to what happened, burst into a roar of laughter..."

Floyd S. Fierman, who had edited Freudenthal's diary, also wrote a companion article, "Peddlers and Merchants on the Southwest Frontier, 1850-1880."  From this article we learn: "The manner in which William Zeckendorf protected his property and stimulated commerce illustrates that being a merchant in the territory in the eighteen hundreds was not a drab experience.  The  Weekly Arizonan, Tucson, Arizona Territory, shouted in pica that:

On Thursday night a party of burglars entered the store of Mr. [W} Zeckendorf and had carried out some $300 worth of clothing, when several bullets from a pistol in the hands of excited Zeckendorf  took effect at various points in the roof of the building, and put the thieves to flight, leaving their plunder piled in the street. 

A more modern story—dubbed an example of "Jewish history in the making"—was provided by Carol Felixson, in a work with over 20 words in the title: "Alcoholism and Addition, The History of Beit T'Shuvah and Related Agencies: Response, Recovery and Prevention Efforts in the Los Angeles Jewish Community."

After describing the reluctance of Jews to admit that they are alcoholics, because of the widespread myth that such things just don't happen in the Jewish community, Felixson passes on this thought-provoking intelligence:

"Surprisingly, there can be a silver lining to this cloud, an upside to addition, a hidden treasure!  Harriet (Rosetto) believes that for those not addicted, finding spirituality in their life is not a necessity. Humility, acceptance and surrender never 'happens' to most people. They think their lives works.  In sharing her own hard earned wisdom that 'the blessing can be found in the dark place,' she echoes Reb Nachman of Bratzlov's teaching that 'God enters through the wound.'"

In a final feature article, "Union Medical Practice in Saskatchewan, Canada, 1948,"  Shirley Brown tells of her life as a nurse working alongside  her husband, Dr. Henry Brown, in that oft-frozen Canadian province. "We did not enjoy the luxury of indoor plumbing," she wrote.  "Water was fetched from a community well.  In Winter we filled  a huge horse trough with snow; and although it was very close to the most efficient Booker type space heater, the snow was very slow to melt; and of course yielded very little water. We often awoke to frozen wash water in the morning.  How I learned to conserve that precious resource!  Laundry and bath water were re-used for floor washing—an impossible task during the Winter because the rag would freeze to the floor of our office space. Survival of house plants was an impossibility. I had to give that up.  Laundry which was hung outside to dry in Winter had to be carefully (maneuvered) back in..."

Perhaps this glimpse into the current issue explains why I am so looking forward to the issues that come.  The fact that an excerpt from my own book, Louis Rose: San Diego's First Jewish Settler and Entrepreneur is scheduled for the January issue, is only partially the reason for my enthusiasm.  —Donald H. Harrison