Real Music & Real Estate . . .
Yiddishe Cup

Yiddishe Cup’s bandleader, Bert Stratton, is Klezmer Guy.
 

He knows about the band biz and – check this out – the real estate biz too. So maybe he’s really Klez Landlord.
 

You may not care about the real estate biz. Hey, you may not care about the band biz.  (Uh, see you.)
 

This is a blog with a gamy twist. It features tenants with snakes and skunks, and musicians with smoked fish in their pockets.
 

Klezmer Guy was a reporter for Sun Newspapers. He has written for Rolling Stone, Downbeat and The World. He won two Hopwood Awards.


 
 

SHULS OUT

Congregation Beth Am’s social hall smelled.  The stained drop-ceiling tiles were caked with decades of latke grease.  And where did Beth Am get that gefilte fish air freshener it used in the back entrance?  My bubbe’s place on Kinsman, 1960, smelled crisper.

Yiddishe Cup played the last wedding at Beth Am in 1999.  The Cleveland Heights building is now the New Community Bible Fellowship, with crowds like for Yom Kipper every Sunday morning.

Beth Am had approximately 400 adult members on closing day. The shul debated downsizing, closing, or merging with a bigger temple.  Syn biz: shul income comes from dues, social hall rentals and contributions.  That’s it.

I voted not to merge with the bigger, newer shul out east.  “If I forget thee, O Heights . . .”

One-fifth of the congregation voted to stay.  Four-fifths said, “Let’s get out of here!”

The rabbi, Michael Hecht, said “Let’s go, people.”  His opinion counted.  Like most congregants, I respected Rabbi Hecht.  He liked opera, classical music and musicians in general.  He put musicians in the same category as physicians.  That alone was worth paying full dues.  Rabbi Hecht, who knew some Greek, said “musician” meant “healer by Muse,” and “physician” meant “healer by physics /nature.”

He also said a congregant, no matter how poor, can give tzedakkah (charity).  If you’re broke, give blood, he said.  That stuck with me.

Rabbi Hecht was not warm and fuzzy. He was not Mr. Jingeling.  He wouldn’t go full-costume on Purim.  Maybe a crazy hat.  That was it. He was a Yekkie (German Jew) who sermonized on how life is not fair.  He said we should try to incrementally improve the planet.  He called that distributing “artificial justice.”

***

Richard Shatten, a Beth Am congregant, indirectly gave me the nickname Klezmer Guy.  He didn’t realize it.

Richard died of a brain tumor at 47.  When I went to his shiva, Richard’s wife said, “Here’s the klezmer guy.”  She blanked on my name.  Richard had known a lot of people, the room was crowded, and I didn’t blame his wife for not knowing my name.  Richard had been an urban-planning strategist, who via non-profit and academic jobs tried to halt the town’s economic decline.  He also played clarinet.

Richard took a solo at his oldest daughter’s bat mitzvah party.  Gutsy, because he hadn’t played much since high school.

Richard liked to schmooze with me at shul, because for one reason I had “primary source data,” as he called it; I knew tenants’ credit histories, their education levels, where the tenants were moving from, and where tenants’ parents lived.  Richard couldn’t get enough of that.  He wanted to attract young people back to Cleveland.  He himself had gone to Harvard and come back.

He hosted his kid’s bat mitzvah party at a formerly anti-Semitic country club near Shaker Square, just to do something totally urban.  No way was he going to the generic party center out by I-271.

When Richard died, his funeral was out by I-271.  Couldn’t be helped.  The newer shul out there – the one Beth Am merged with, and Richard had voted against — was the only place big enough to hold all Richard’s friends and family.

7 comments

1 Irwin { 06.30.10 at 8:21 am }

I was also part of a congregation that could not continue in its synagogue. My hometown shul, Temple Ner Tamid in Euclid, ended up merging with Temple Israel. It fizzled for me after that. It taught me to not get so attached to the actual building. Now I try to focus more on the people.

I do have pleasant memories of Rabbi Hecht and Beth Am from the gigs we did there. I could see why you were for staying.

2 Bill Jones { 06.30.10 at 11:07 am }

What’s with this anonymous shul business? B’nai Jeshurun is not HaShem: unnamable. Rabbi Hecht goes there. You do on occasion.

Speaking of Rabbi Hecht, he also has a remarkable memory of, and opinion (nu?) on, movies, too. Phenomenal. I don’t think he’s Yekkie but Polish, if I remember correctly. Since I don’t remember…….

3 Adrianne Greenbaum { 06.30.10 at 12:19 pm }

I like this guy Hecht. Never met him, I don’t think, but his definition of musicians and physicians certainly has me on his side.

Read last week’s blurb just now. You’re right: Michael Winograd makes any gig worth going to, even if he does play clarinet. :-)

Seriously, next year — since I read your description of what is the right and wrong way to present a show for these Cleveland folks — why not Klezical Tradition? We do what they want, and we’ll keep out the riff-raff of the “rarely heard Yiddish repertoire: feh.” Promise. We have excellent Feh Rep. Promise again.

And we lead good dancing. Real good. And we’re adorable. Well, I am anyway.

Zay Gezunt, m’man

Adrianne

4 Teddy { 06.30.10 at 12:50 pm }

Rabbi Michael Hecht was born in Cologne, Germany, circa 1930s. I know this because we had his obit pre-written at the CJN, just like all the other rabbis. Jes’ kidding.

5 Bert { 06.30.10 at 4:46 pm }

To Adrianne:
Around December, submit your PR and proposed fee for the summer 2011 concert.

To Teddy:
What do you mean by “Jes’ kidding”? Does the Cleveland Jewish News pre-write obits of rabbis, or not? If so, that is pretty interesting and very major league.

6 Hermine Wieder { 07.01.10 at 10:28 am }

Thanks for this, Bert. Beth Am was MY HOME. It was the venue for the old hazzanut, sung by cantors Spiro and Leubitz and the choir….the Rabbi trying to join in, but off-key.

It was home to the heymish members who worked countless hours on the concerts (Beth Am in Concert) to raise money for the shul.

It was the warm, serene sanctuary that meant a couple hours of complete mental relaxation. These memories will remain, though the members have moved and the building has new tenants. Our Beth Am will never be gone.

7 Harvey { 07.07.10 at 10:09 am }

Wanna know why the back entrance smelled? I know why. Once had to deliver something there on a weeknight. Bingo Night. Walked in, almost went into shock.

The holy Max and Eva Apple Social Hall was dark, loud, smoke-filled, packed with crazed goyim eating gray hot dogs on paper plates that doubled as ash trays.

As my eyes adjusted, I made out the executive director of the shul(!) in a green visor, calling numbers and presiding over this unholy scene. Like a Jewish version of It’s a Wonderful Life, where Jimmy Stewart gets to see the town if he had not been born.

That’s why the back entrance stunk. Maybe gefilte fish scent was the most powerful anti-Bingo agent available.

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