Lodz, 28 December 1932 Devoted brother, as well as nephew, and niece, Sol Zissman, I received your letter eight days ago. Perhaps you remember, Sol, that I informed you in my last letter that my working days in the factory were numbered. And, meanwhile, it appears that I have a keen eye and see what the future holds... Yes, dear Sol, it has been more than a year since the factory where I worked began to stumble until, until, one bright morning, i.e., December 1, when we arrived at work, we found everything locked. Here we call it going broke, bankrupt. You can imagine, dear Sol, how shattered I was. After all, even when I was working, I wasn't able to make a living on what I earned. I was constantly a debtor who was never able to dig my way out of my obligations, and now, to make matters worse, I won't be working at all. However, to be brief, I can sigh today and sigh tomorrow; the factory is locked up, and forty men were left without bread and without any prospect of earning enough to buy a bread, and I among them... Believe me, Sol, that I didn't want to write this letter at all because you know my biography too well and are aware of everything that's happening to us here in Poland, how we live here, and what the circumstances are... And yet I have no one other than you, Sol, to whom to pour out my bitter heart. Four weeks have already passed since I was thrown out of work at the factory into the street. Every day I knock on tens of doors seeking any sort of work. I am not choosy as to the kind of work, but (would take) whatever turned up. For example, I wanted to be a night watchman, a packer, a menial laborer in order to earn enough for bread for myself and my family. Unfortunately, the times are so difficult in Lodz currently that wherever one goes looking for work, they look at you like you're out of your mind... Besides that, no one hires a worker of my age. Why hire a 47-year-old man when he can get a man of 18-20 who is bigger, stronger, more powerful than I am? There are now 150,000 unemployed wandering around Lodz. Almost 75% of the factories are closed or have gone bankrupt. The economy has gone to Hell, and it looks like the whole world is on the brink of disaster. As you read my writing, you'll think there, "I'm so familiar with my uncle's stories, with his sad songs." However, dear and devoted Sol, be aware of the fact that I write you this letter not with ink, but with tears. I have never demanded anything of you. I have never required anything of you. And yet, my devoted one, you have always stood on guard and have always responded to me with your help. I know very well, Sol, how difficult the situation is these days in America in general and with you in particular. I read and understand your writing that you are expending all your effort in cutting back and economizing and want to organize things in such a way that your expenses and income will match. I wish you good luck, my devoted one. May you have good fortune when you move into your house. May you truly become a wealthy man, as you well deserve. To be sure, Sol, I have given up on becoming a rich man. First of all, I am very depressed. Secondly, I don't have anything to work with. In any event, I will now have to give up on living the life of a worker. From what I can see, I won't be able to find any sort of job very quickly! The only think that I am looking for now is to do some sort of business or to battle my way into a little store. You remember well, Sol, that my brother-in-law, Lazer, wanted to open a bakery in partnership with me in Opoczno three years ago. And you, Sol, wanted to help me at that time with $200-$300. However, however, I didn't want to go ahead with the deal because I didn't anticipate that I would be able to repay you the money within a given period of time. This by itself, Sol, should have impressed on you that your uncle is not of those people who are only interested in draining money out of America!!! If the situation were different, Sol, perhaps I wouldn't write anything to you about how things are going with me here. However, however, I am convinced of your devotion to me, and I know very well that you won't react to my writing with indifference but will surely respond to my present call to you. I have never shown such boldness. I have never made a demand of you. However, this time, Sol, I come out in the open and stretch my hand out to you for you to help me, for you to save me from going under. I don't indicate to you how large and how much your assistance should be, but I would very much like to battle my way to some sort of a small store because one can, chas v'cholilah, go mad not having any work. The (circumstances at) home drive me into the street, and the (circumstances in) the street drive me back home. The situation is becoming more unbearable every day. It's also not certain that I won't be thrown out into the street because I now owe nine months' rent. The electricity has been turned off; we sit in the dark!!! More than once I have envied my daughter. Would that I were lying in her place...because what is this sort of life worth? How long can a person suffer like this in the world? How long can this continue? There is no end, no finish, to my troubles. Why did I bring children into the world if not to provide for them and to raise them in accord with the dictates of my intellect...? As to your writing, Sol, that support payments of $5, $10 and $100 are not of any value, that they're not substantive, not durable, that there is no foundation underlying them, it's true, Sol; however, how can I think about a question that will only be dealt with in fifteen years at a time when I am not assured that tomorrow won't be a day of hunger for me...? It's true that the plan concerning my Joseph is a practical one, and I am ready to do everything to assist you in your initiative. I am also prepared to offer my paternal love to my only son in order to assure and to provide an existence (for him) in the future... You must know, Sol, that your uncle is not a child. I look at the world with open eyes, and see and understand life well. I look the devil right in the eye. I am not afraid of Death even if he were to come today. And, yet, I feel weak and powerless, vanquished and depressed. I am aware, on the basis of my own experiences, that everyone has to elbow his way and fight for a path in life, and if one is not able to succeed in doing this, he has to clear the space for someone else. Sol, if you can do something for my Joseph so that he will be able to go to America, without regard to how many years it may take, register him. I think that I once wrote to you about him. He is now twelve years old, not a bad student, not a fool, built nicely, and even though this child is my sole consolation in life, I would prefer to send him anywhere in the world rather than raise him to be a boor, handicapped, ignorant and weak. However, the question, dear Sol, presents itself: What happens until then...? Therefore, I beg you, Sol, to take my writing seriously because it wasn't at all easy for me to write this letter to you. And now that I am writing to you, Sol, I want you to know that "...the waters are come in unto my soul...," that I can't hold out any longer because if I don't find a way into some sort of business, I have nothing in the world to live for... I hope, Sol, that my letter will not be a voice calling in the wilderness but that, as you always have, you will now also respond to my writing and to my call for help. For this you will merit that G-d help you and guard you from all evil. So, heartfelt regards for you, your wife and your dear son. My wife and Joseph send their heartfelt regards. Rifkele is in Opoczno. Aunt Estherl, Uncle Lazer and family send their heartfelt regards to all. With respect, Your uncle, Wolf Lewkowicz All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.