Anecdotal recollections of a former Brooklyn resident about Jewish identity, a Sunday store ticket, and a youth athletic club

4.2.12 WC: 191694 My decision to become a criminal lawyer was certainly not influenced by any exposure to real crime. I lived in a neighborhood where we never locked our doors and where violent crime was unheard of. There were of course street fights, in which I frequently participated - - more often as victim than victor - - but the Borough Park section of Brooklyn was a safe neighborhood. (L [possible omission] Several years after I moved out of the house, my parents’ apartment was burglarized. All the burglars took were Jewish ritual items, such as the Hanukah Menorah, the Sabbath candles, etc. When my mother called to tell me about the burglary, I responded, “See, Jews can be burglars too.” Without a moment’s hesitation my mother rebuked me, “They weren’t Jews, they were Israelis.” For my mother, real Jews, who in her world were all orthodox, and Israelis, who tended to be secular, were completely different breeds. My father, though rarely at home, influenced me as well. He had a small store on the lower east side, where he sold wholesale during the week and retail on Sunday (he was of course closed on Saturday). I would sometimes help him on Sunday after my school finished at 1:00 pm. One Sunday he got a ticket for violating the Sunday closing law. I went to court with him a few days later and the presiding judge was man named Hyman Barshay. It was my first experience in a real court. He asked my father why he was open on Sunday and my father responded that he had to stay closed on Saturday because he was an Orthodox Jew and he couldn’t afford to be closed for two days. “Did you go to Schul on Saturday?” the judge asked. My father replied, “Of course.” The judge challenged him, asking, “Then what was the Torah portion of the week?” When my father responded correctly, the judge tore up the ticket. If he had gotten the answer wrong, the judge would’ve doubled the fine. So much for separation between church and state. This was not my only experience with the First Amendment. Shortly thereafter, my friends and I decided to form a social athletic club - - a euphemism for a Jewish gang, but without the rough stuff. We named our club The Shields and we designed our own jackets, which we got wholesale, since the father of one of our members owned an athletic store. His name was “Snot” Chaitman. I leave the source of that nickname to your imagination. Whitey, the leader of our club, decided that we should have something sexy and not at all Jewish looking (whatever that meant). Accordingly, the colors we selected were chartreuse and black. We really wanted to look like hoods, despite our generally wimpy nature. Our yeshiva immediately banned the jackets as too tough looking and not consistent with the Jewish values of the school. Fortunately one of our 27 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_017114