The last days of March 1948. Fighting is going on everywhere in Israel. At the Jaffa-Tel Aviv border, a mortar battle lasted nine hours. The Arabs arrive in taxis to the Hassan-Bek Mosque and from there try to break into Tel Aviv. At the ravine gate, forty defenders fight against hundreds of gang members, including Germans and English with active participation. In addition to all the hell, a rematch was scheduled in Petah Tikva between the Tel Aviv team and the local team, after Tel Aviv won the first game 2:1.
The Municipality of Tel Aviv advised residents to grow vegetables in their backyards in order to alleviate the food shortage. Vegetable seedlings of all kinds will be distributed free of charge to anyone who needs them. I lived in Haifa and I didn't have a garden and in addition they didn't give out seedlings and I was also small.
In the midst of all the chaos, we loaded all our movables onto a van and finally moved into our own apartment. This time, for a change, it's an almost forty-meter-long 'giant' apartment that contains a large room and a balcony that surrounds it on both sides and reaches the kitchen. 7 Emek-Hazitim St.
Farewell without tears from our neighbor, but we didn't have to say goodbye to Mina Perlman. She purchased the apartment below us, on the ground floor, and we will continue to be in close contact in the future as well. At the age of six and a bit, I watched Mina naked as on her birthday for twenty-one seconds. A detailed story of the founding event has already been written.
Our building is narrow and long. Two small apartments on each floor. The entrance is in the center of the building and a concrete path poured in several parts leads to the stairwell. Mina as mentioned on the ground floor and opposite her apartment lives Nahum Gelder. Second floor in front of the Peller family and opposite the Segal family. Third floor the Borstein couple and across from them the Hagar family whose son Shimon was my friend and after a break of about fifty years we met again as adults. Near the entrance is a huge olive tree. Its trunk was several meters in circumference and I could climb up to the second floor and my body weight did not cause even the slightest sway in the thick wooden fabrics.
The entire neighborhood is full of such trees, and hence the name of the street, which used to be a valley full of olive trees, so it was not called Emek-Hassak either. We settled in the apartment quickly and some of the clothes still remained in different boxes, waiting for my father to install a closet that would suit our needs. The small bathroom contains a bathtub, a sink, a toilet and of course the famous boiler under which a fire is lit to heat water.
Father brought pieces of wood from the carpentry, as usual, and beside the boiler there was a pile that could heat water for the whole street, when I am chief fire officer. I liked to sit on the toilet lid and watch the flames, add wood from time to time and hear the explosive sounds emanating from the flames. The water is almost boiling. I continued to add twigs to the fire and there was a tangible danger that I, along with the boiling boiler, would throw paper into space. My mother, who was in charge of everything going on in the house, stopped me in time. After a period the position became a burden and I requested a transfer to another executive position.
Father started working in a carpentry shop on Pevzner Street with Mr. Grubner and at the end of the eight-hour workday he went to another carpentry shop for another day's work. He left early in the morning when I was sleeping and came back late at night, even when I was sleeping. I hardly saw him in those days. The payments for the apartment and the cost of living were a burden that had to be met.
My father bought a new gift for the occasion of moving into our apartment. A huge "Schneider" radio that contained, perhaps, two large speakers inside. Not stereo, God forbid. An innovative device for those days, which produced an excellent sound....relative. The radio played from morning until evening. Our air time was limited, so a few foreign stations with pointless noises filled the gap. Saturday morning, especially in the winter, I would wake up and jump quickly into my parents' bed and my sister Rachel followed me. Get under the thick blanket and watch the radio playing. This observation probably gave birth to the idea for the invention of television.
After breakfast we all dressed in our Shabbat clothes and went to the Technion Garden, or Benjamin Garden, or just a walk on Herzl Street. The street is full of travelers like us that this is their only entertainment option. My sister was already sitting in the cart and whoever stopped next to us admired her beauty, complimented and sometimes pinched her cheek. I'm older now and got rid of the cheek pecks, luckily, but a complementary compliment to me, in addition to what is said about my sister, is not harmful. We entered a new life path. New house and new area.
- Ilan Segal -
How beautifully you write about a fascinating period, and it's interesting to read how it was preserved in a child's memory
Enjoy what a magical time it was in Hadar and Hebrew families, some of them newcomers who filled the housing estates and lived the mythical streets. Humble people with small and exciting stories who lived in real small Zionist apartments.
To see how in recent decades most of the descendants of all those Hebrew families left Hadar and there is a feeling of alienation that stems from demographic change which is a sad story in itself in the neighborhood and the city.
Indeed, a short story. Good night
Ilan, I may be wrong, but to the best of my recollection, Sedovnik also lived there.
I myself was born in 1946 and we lived on the second floor in Emek Zeytim 7 A until 1950 when we moved to Arlozorov St. Except for Mrs. Verhaftig who lived upstairs, I don't remember any other tenants.