Monthly Archives: November 2015

The story that I’m about to tell you took place in the early months of 1988. I was running the advertising department of 47th Street Photo, which was a half-a-billion dollar company at the time, considered the largest photography store for graphic equipment in the world. And it had one of the largest in-house advertising agencies in New York City. We would place hundreds of ads with the New York Times yearly, (at times spending in excess of $350,000 a month!) and, as a result, we had a great deal of clout with them.

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One day, I got a phone call from the owner of 47th Street Photo, Reb Chaim Yehuda Goldstein, asking me to assist Chabad Lubavitch with ad placement. He said, “Please help them out and make sure they get what they need. Whatever you can do will be appreciated.”

Almost immediately I got a call from the Chabad representative, Reb Yehoshua Metzger. He told me that the Rebbe’s birthday was approaching and Chabad would like to honor the Rebbe with a prominent, full page ad in the New York Times. Previously, their ads had gotten lost in the paper, and they wanted to make sure it wouldn’t happen this time.

I immediately dispatched my people to speak with the New York Times editors, and we were successful in procuring premiere placement – the back page of a section of the paper at half the usual price! Instead of paying $25,000, Chabad paid $12,500 – a substantial savings.

I was thrilled, Reb Metzger was thrilled, and that was the start of a beautiful friendship between us. It was then that he asked if I would like to meet the Rebbe – he offered to arrange an audience for me and my family during the “Sunday dollars,” when the Rebbe would greet people and give each person a dollar to be given to charity. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, and of course, I didn’t hesitate to grab it. (more…)

I was born on Yom Kippur in 1938, in the city of Kazan, Tatarstan, Soviet Russia, where I was educated in Torah by underground Chabad teachers. At a time when the practice of Judaism was against the law, a Chabad chasid used to come to our home to teach us the basics, despite the danger of imprisonment.

In this oppressive environment, my parents tried their best to be Torah observant. Even after the war when we moved to Moscow, where Jewish life was even harder, they took great pains to keep kosher and, against all odds, they succeeded.

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I attended public school and I tried to avoid desecrating Shabbos as much as I could. Generally, this was not completely possible, though I managed to play hooky on the Jewish High Holidays. After that, in 1955, I went to university – the Moscow Conservatory of Music – to become a pianist, and I was arrested twice while trying to attend the great Moscow Choral Synagogue. I was questioned and held in jail a few days each time, but I suffered no further fallout from those incidents.

From that time on, I – along with the rest of my family – was actively trying to leave Russia. Finally, in 1970, a Chabad emissary went to the Rebbe in New York to ask for the Rebbe’s blessing that we get out. And less than a year later – at a time when this was near impossible! – we received the green light to go. As soon as we arrived in America, of course we came to see the Rebbe to express our gratitude.

That was the first time I participated in a farbrengen and saw thousands of Jews gathered together – something which was forbidden in Russia. It was amazing to hear the Rebbe speak and to see everyone so happy, singing with such joy. For me, it was an unbelievable experience. (more…)

I would like to tell a very beautiful and very moving story about my son, myself and the Rebbe.

When my son, Shmaryahu, was a baby, he was very sickly. He was feverish all the time. If someone sneezed three miles away, he would get a cold. He had almost no immunity, and his health was of great concern to me.

At fourteen months, he ended up in the hospital – Cedars Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles – and that was the first big scare I had with him. At that time, he was tested for cystic fibrosis, a horrible prospect for a mother to hear. The first set of tests was pointing that way, and I was really in a panic since cystic fibrosis can be hereditary and I was seven months pregnant with my second son. I started to get contractions just because of the stress.

We wrote to the Rebbe, asking for a blessing. And then the doctors did some more tests which showed that they had made a mistake. He did not have cystic fibrosis but a milk allergy.

When I heard that I was so happy and so thankful at this turn of events. For whatever reason, I had to go through that angst but, in the end, it was something very minor.

As time went by, Shmaryahu got stronger but he did not get much bigger. He was very tiny and was not growing as a child should. He was just very small compared to other children his age.

When he was five, my pediatrician – a very well-known doctor – said to me, “I’m going send you to the top endocrinologist in California. People come to him from all over the world. It’s very hard to get an appointment with this man, but I’ve arranged one for you. He doesn’t take any insurance. You have to pay up front – one thousand dollars for the visit.” (more…)

In 1966, my wife and I went to Minnesota, following the Rebbe’s advice that we become Rabbi and Rebbetzin of Adath Israel Congregation in St. Paul. From the very start of our mission, we felt so tremendously supported by the Rebbe, and the stories I would like to share demonstrate how he paid attention to the smallest detail, how he never missed the tiniest thing, and how he looked after us in every way.

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After we established ourselves in St. Paul, I made it a habit to send everything that we published to the Rebbe. I’m talking about synagogue bulletins, newsletters and announcements that were sent out to the entire community, as well as matters of Jewish interest that appeared in the local newspapers.

That first year, my wife and I wanted to organize an event that would attract everybody. We settled on a Purim dinner and sent out an announcement about it, including two tickets for which we charged $5 apiece. This went to every family belonging to the synagogue, and it also went to the Rebbe.

A short while later, I received an envelope from the Rebbe containing two five dollar bills. Inside the envelope was also a typed note stating that this was to cover the cost of two tickets to the Purim dinner.

I still have those two five dollar bills. It was extremely meaningful to me and my wife that the Rebbe had wanted to make us feel like he was participating from afar. We were young and inexperienced but we were trying our best, and it meant so much to us to be supported in this way. Often in our work, we’d hope people would respond but we’d hear nothing, so to get this response from the Rebbe meant the world to us. (more…)