The Lander Legacy



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this highly intelligent and devoted man who was clearly intent on repairing

the world around him. She was also impressed with Bernard’s level

of religious observance. After being surrounded by the highly assimilated

young Jewish men she encountered at NYU, meeting a serious, knowledgeable

and committed Jew like Bernard was like a breath of fresh air.

Bernard proposed marriage and Sarah agreed to meet him under the chupah

of marital unity.

The wedding date was set for Monday, November 1, 1948. The following

day, the politician who had been the most instrumental in implementing

the panoply of social programs that Bernard had been advocating

over the past four years, Governor Thomas E. Dewey, was defeated in his

bid for the presidency in an upset victory carried out by President Harry S

Truman. A new era had surely begun.

71

Chapter eight
New Horizons

Your eyes shall behold a land stretching afar.

—Isaiah 33:17

It was the first day of November 1948, and the well-trained catering

staff of the Riverside Plaza Hotel was busy readying the main hall for

a traditional Jewish wedding celebration. The venerable establishment,

located on Manhattan’s West 71st Street, had hosted many such

simchas (celebrations) in its day, but there was something unusual going

on at the Lander / Shragowitz nuptials. In the wedding invitations that

Bernard and Sarah had sent out, the ceremony time was listed as 5:30 pm.

At exactly half past five a distinguished Columbia University professor,

Dr. Robert McIver, had entered the hall, peering about expectantly. He

was soon followed by a contingent of other academic and political types,

all looking a bit mystified. Bernard’s non-Jewish Columbia colleagues

and Mayor’s Committee members were evidently unfamiliar with J.S.T.,

Jewish Standard Time, which typically added at least fifteen minutes to

any scheduled appointment time. Over the next half hour guests began

filing in steadily and by 6 pm the hall was filled with a diverse and potent

blend of personalities from all quarters of Bernard and Sarah’s lives.

The interfaith and inter-racial guest list included Lander, Shragowitz

and Koenigsberg family members, Mayor’s Committee members and

city officials, learned Yeshiva scholars, Urban League leaders, congregants

from Beth Jacob in Baltimore, RIETS professors, researchers from

Columbia and BASR, NYU classmates and faculty members, childhood

friends, and many more.

The non-Jewish guests, many of them attending an Orthodox wedding

for the first time, were easily swept into the atmosphere of the evening

at the Kabbalas Panim (bride’s reception) and the groom’s tisch (literally:

table) as they observed the signing of the K’tubah (wedding contract)

72 The Lander Legacy

and the ceremonial breaking of the wedding plate. All guests came away

with a new or renewed appreciation for the warm Jewish spirit, or Yiddishkeit,

that permeated the event.

Rabbi Aharon Kotler, the same respected rabbi who had married

Sarah’s parents some twenty-five years earlier in Kletsk, and a relative of

Sarah’s family, officiated under the chupah. As a custom and a courtesy,

any other rabbis in attendance were invited to stand alongside the couple

during the wedding ceremony. In all, nine rabbis crowded under the

chupah as the bride circled the groom seven times and the Sheva Brachos

(seven blessings) were recited. Such honors were bestowed upon one of the

Roshei Yeshiva (heads) of RIETS, Rabbi Dovid Lifshitz, as well as Rabbi

Samuel Sar and Rabbi Joseph Lookstein from the Yeshiva faculty. Sarah’s

grandfather, Rabbi Joseph Shragowitz, from Fitchberg, Massachusetts and

her sister Bessie’s husband, Rabbi Aaron Kra, the rabbi in Ansonia, Connecticut,

were also so honored, as were Bernard’s brother, Rabbi Nathan

Lander; his cousin, Rabbi Herschel Koenigsberg; and his brother-in-law,

Rabbi Max Posnansky.

As custom dictated, a wineglass wrapped in a cloth napkin was placed

under Bernard’s foot at the conclusion of the ceremony. The popping

sound that arose as his foot came down—a perpetual reminder of the

destruction of the ancient Temple in Jerusalem—was met with cheers and

shouts of “Mazel Tov” and “Siman Tov” as the gathered guests pelted the

newlyweds with a shower of candy. Some of the honored dignitaries in

attendance who were introduced during the Simchas Chasan v’Kallah (the

wedding feast) included leaders of the American Mizrachi Organization

such as its president, Pinkhos Churgin; Dr. David Petergorsky, executive

director of the American Jewish Congress; Isaiah Minkoff, executive director

of the National Community Relations Advisory Council; and Rabbi

Ahron Soloveichik.

As Bernard Lander scanned the long tables filled with family and

friends from his seat of honor at the head table beside his beautiful young

bride, he felt supremely blessed and fortunate. At the same time, he could

not suppress a feeling of urgency. He felt an insurmountable impetus

to move ahead and pursue both his personal and professional destinies.

While he understood that a new chapter of his life had been opened, he

was unsure where life’s road would lead him. His only certainty was that

from this point on, he would no longer be traversing that road alone.

New Horizons 73

As Rabbi Lander pondered his life’s path, he sensed that his destiny

would take him beyond New York’s five boroughs and out into the larger

world. He recalled how, in recent years, he had already stretched his horizons

and had begun to act on a global stage. In January 1946, at the behest

of the American Jewish Committee, he had travelled to Mexico City. The

group had established a local agency there to combat anti-Semitism, and

Lander was asked to examine and report objectively on its effectiveness.

He remained in Mexico well into February as he conducted an in-depth

investigation of the fascist forces at work in the capital and throughout the

nation. As he conducted interviews with community leaders, local politicians

and U.S. embassy staff members, Lander soon learned of a strong

and sinister force known as the Sinarquista.

The Sinarquista was an outlawed fascist political organization that

promoted synarchy, a structured hierarchical social order intended to transcend

conflict between economic classes through an ideology known as

synarchism. Synarchism was born as a reaction to the pro-anarchy political

movements popular during the late nineteenth century, but the term had

now come to serve as a euphemistic code word for fascist and anti-communist

ideologies. The Sinarquista, active in Mexico since the mid-1930s

as an extension of the Roman Catholic extreme right, was violently opposed

to the populist and secularist policies of the ruling Mexican regime.

The group, somewhat dormant since the 1938 assassination of its leader,

Jos. Urquiza, had recently regrouped and was being revived under the

banner of the extremist Popular Force Party (PFP).

The more Lander learned about the politics of Mexico, the more evidence

he saw of PFP influence in Mexican life. He brought his concerns

to the U.S. ambassador to Mexico at the time, George S. Messersmith, to

whom Lander explained that the PFP’s rising level of influence was posing

a real threat to Mexico’s Jewish community. He presented evidence that

numerous former Nazis, who had secretly fled to Mexico after the war,

were exerting their sinister influence within the Sinarquista movement

and implored the ambassador to raise the issue with the Roman Catholic

archdiocese. “I’m asking that you urge the church to halt its support of the

PFP.” Messersmith turned a deaf ear and showed Lander the door.

Lander concluded that Messersmith, along with a cabal of government

officials, was sympathetic towards the Mexican fascists. Upon his

return to New York, Lander decided to report his findings directly to

74 The Lander Legacy

Washington. He recalled that during an outbreak of anti-Semitic incidents

in 1930, when an economic slump prompted Mexican storekeepers

to target Jewish bankers—whom they blamed for the crisis—that the U.S.

State Department had intervened and had pressured the Mexican government

to quash the protests. Lander presumed that the State Department

would again respond in kind. He quickly drafted a report and dispatched

it, along with supporting documents, to Spruille Braden, the Assistant

Secretary of State for Latin American Affairs. Disappointingly, his efforts

were met with polite indifference. In 1946 the United States State Department

was preoccupied with the emerging spread of communism. Fighting

fascists was old history. Hadn’t the United States just won the war in order

to rid the world of fascism?

Lander’s report succeeded in one regard, however; it resulted in his being

labeled as a “communist sympathizer” or “comsymp” by the U.S. State

Department, a sobriquet that would dog him for years and result in his

ostensibly being denied needed government funding during the following

decade’s McCarthy era.

As Bernard Lander recalled the disappointments of this first foray

onto the international stage, he was buoyed by the fact that his second

attempt was one he could look back upon with some pride. The Partition

of Palestine vote that had taken place at the United Nations exactly one

year before, in November 1947 was a monumental event marking the end

of the nearly 1,900-year exile of the Jewish people. Fifty-six countries were

then represented in the U.N. and the vote to partition passed with thirtytree

in favor, thirteen against, and ten abstentions. This vote was closer

than it may have appeared since, in order to secure passage, the measure

required a two-thirds majority of those nations voting. As anticipated,

the European nations voted as a bloc in favor of partition and the Arab

nations also voted en masse against it. This placed the decision squarely

into the hands of the nonaligned nations with no obvious interest in the

outcome. In what seemed to some observers as an inexplicable act of solidarity,

thirteen nations of the Caribbean, Central, and South America also

voted as a bloc in favor of partition. These votes made the difference and

succeeded in bringing the State of Israel into existence.

Much has been written about figures such as David Ben-Gurion and

Chaim Weizmann and their roles in forging the new Jewish state. But there

New Horizons 75

remains a short list of unsung heroes whose activities outside the spotlight

were every bit as vital. One such individual was Samuel Zemurray,

the Russian immigrant to the United States, who rose from dire poverty

to become the owner of the United Fruit Company, the world’s largest

purveyors of bananas. A devout Zionist, Zemurray not only donated a banana

boat to the Sochnut (the Jewish Agency, the recognized “government

in exile” of the Jewish people) that would later be famously renamed the

Exodus and used to transport Holocaust survivors to Eretz Yisroel, he also

used his economic clout to convince the Latin American governments he

had been dealing with for decades to cast their votes at the U.N. in favor

of the partition motion.

Another name that should unquestionably be placed on the unsung

heroes list is that of Bernard Lander. Spurred into action by the Sochnut,

which had early on recognized the pivotal role to be played by the

Latin American nations, Lander, at the behest of the Sochnut called upon

the contacts he had been cultivating for the prior three years. In those

early years of the struggle for civil rights, Jews and blacks regarded each

other as soulmates, both victims of institutionalized racism and discrimination.

This bond was manifested as a political coalition that would endure

through the mid-1960s. Lander became a member of a Pro-Palestine

committee and began knocking on the doors of the black leaders he knew

through his work on the Mayor’s Committee on Unity and elsewhere.

Lander first pled his case to Walter White, the Secretary of the NAACP

who agreed to go into action. White, who had a particular interest in Haiti,

spent months lobbying the Haitian U.N. delegation in an ultimately

successful effort to gain its vote in behalf of the Zionist cause.

Lander also contacted a black member of the Mayor’s Committee

with whom he had worked closely. Channing H. Tobias, who held a doctorate

of divinity, had spent his life devoted to the YMCA, a role that

often led him to Latin America as he strove to resolve racial issues with

local political leaders. Tobias had been appointed to the Committee on

Civil Rights by President Truman in 1946 and sat on the national board

of the NAACP. Once again, Lander made his case to a respected black

leader, asking for his intercession on behalf of Partition among his many

contacts in Latin America. Tobias was sympathetic and assured Lander

that he would give it his best effort.

76 The Lander Legacy

The narrowly won U.N. vote was regarded as a victory for Jewish diplomacy.

Pro-partition advocates had managed to summon the support of

black national and international leaders who enjoyed close ties to Jewish

activists, such as Bernard Lander, through their years of working together

in behalf of civil rights. In the final tally, the thirteen of the thirty-three

aye votes at the U.N. General Assembly tendered by non-aligned Latin

American members were the result of outside influence. Lobbied by banana

peddlers and black civil rights leaders, the votes cast by these Roman

Catholic countries, far removed from the affairs of Jews and the Middle

East, made all the difference in the world.

One characteristic that benefited Rabbi Lander’s effectiveness as a civil

rights activist and Zionist was his modesty and willingness to remain out

of the limelight. When a harsh article criticizing Jewish settlements in

Palestine appeared in the Reader’s Digest, Lander did not respond directly.

He called upon his colleague Dan Dodson. Dodson, at Lander’s request,

wrote to a friend who was a senior editor at the magazine, asking him to

publish the other side of this issue. The editor agreed, and the rebuttal

piece soon appeared. Lander, throughout his career, firmly believed that

a bridge is often a better defense than a wall. He urged his rabbinic colleagues

to reach out to other local clergy when taking on social issues or

community relations. “A public statement on an issue by an Episcopalian

or Methodist Bishop from Kentucky has more sway over the State Department

than the largest mass convention in New York City sponsored by

the most well-known Jewish organization,” he once commented. Lander’s

distaste for self-aggrandizement was also a decided asset in his new role as

a husband.

Bernard and Sarah transitioned into married life as many young couples

do. They rented a small apartment in Long Beach as Sarah embarked

on her studies towards a master’s degree in sociology at the New School for

Social Research. The NSSR, founded in 1919, was located in downtown

Manhattan and served as the home of the “University in Exile” in 1933

for Jewish scholars driven from Nazi-controlled Europe. Bernard was still

involved with the Mayor’s Committee on Unity during the day and continued

teaching at Hunter College in the evenings. One evening, Bernard

again complained to his friend, Morris Lifschitz, about the long commute

that both he and Sarah had to endure each day. Lifschitz, who lived in

New Horizons 77

Queens, urged the Landers to consider Forest Hills, with its many vacant

tracts of land, easy commute to Manhattan, and young Jewish community.

The rabbi of the community, Morris Max, was a scholar of stature.

He was originally from Baltimore, and Bernard had been friends with his

brother there. After spending one year in Long Beach, Bernard and Sarah

relocated to Forest Hills in Queens. It was to remain their home for the

remainder of their marriage.

When Bernard Lander arrived to Forest Hills in late 1949, he was met

by a dismal picture of a struggling Torah community in disarray. It was

becoming obvious that Lifschitz had encouraged Lander to move to Forest

Hills not only because he wanted his friend as a neighbor, but also out of

respect for his outstanding leadership and organizing abilities. Lifschitz, a

gifted and community-spirited lawyer, had served with Lander for several

years on the Executive Committee of Mizrachi and recognized that his

skills would make him a first-class collaborator in Lifschitz’s push to “remove

the shame, the helplessness, and the hopelessness” that characterized

the Torah-true Jewish community of Forest Hills.

The community’s only visible organization was the shul, known as

the Queens Jewish Center and Talmud Torah (QJC), which was housed

in a pitifully overcrowded storefront on 66th Avenue. This was supposed

to serve as the synagogue’s temporary quarters at the time it was

first established in 1943, but the congregation had been unable to make

any real progress. It had, at one point, purchased land, Lander was told,

but was forced to halt construction of a new building due to a lack of

adequate funding.

Dr. Lander immediately joined the congregation and soon found

himself on the board. Within one year of his arrival, he was elected president

and quickly appointed Morris Lifschitz to head a new building fund

campaign. The October 1950 edition of the QJC’s newsletter heralded the

news under the banner headline: “Dr. Lander Elected President.” The

article’s depiction of the Landers is noteworthy:

A quiet and unassuming young fellow, (Dr. Lander) immediately

impresses all those with whom he comes in contact with

his level-headed logic and his ability to address an audience in a

man-to-man, friendly tone that is most engaging. Although he
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