The Takeaway Men

by Meryl Ain

  For close to a decade, Judy’s life had been about saving and healing him. She was beginning to feel that, no matter how hard she tried, it would never be enough. And worst of all, her ultrasensitive, perceptive, precocious child was now showing that she was not only aware of, but vulnerable to her father’s demons.

  The first thing Monday morning, Ben Wagner, a prominent criminal defense attorney, paid a visit to Lenore at the Women’s House of Detention. He was about six feet tall with green eyes and a sandy crew cut. A partner in a prestigious Manhattan law firm that also had offices in Philadelphia and Boston, he wore an expensive Brooks Brothers suit and tie, and his shirt cuffs were monogrammed with BW. His gold cufflinks also showcased his initials. Lenore judged he was about forty. He looked like a really elegant guy—except that he was chewing and snapping gum, and when he stopped chewing long enough to speak, he had a very thick Bronx accent. Ben sat across from Lenore at a table in the visiting room.

  “So how do you know Irv Rosen?” he asked Lenore as he tossed her a pack of cigarettes and a box of tissues. “These are from Irv.”

  “He’s my neighbor.”

  “Nice guy; fabulous photographer. Have you seen his photos of the Rosenberg kids? Very touching.”

  “No, I haven’t,” said Lenore. “Thank Irv for the goodies. It’s impossible to get cigarettes or decent tissues here.”

  “Well, hopefully, we’re gonna get you out of here soon.”

  Lenore liked the way he exuded confidence.

  “Now, tell me what they asked you and what you told them,” said Ben.

  “They asked me about David and Ruth Greenglass. I told them that I met them in New Mexico. She was my boss’s neighbor. And we socialized.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I did say I wanted a lawyer.”

  “You know you’re a small fish in this pond. You’re just someone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one really cares about you. . . .”

  “That is abundantly clear,” Lenore interrupted.

  “Nah, that’s not what I meant. Your parents care about you, or they wouldn’t have hired me. Irv cares about you or he wouldn’t have contacted me. I mean you’re not the one the government is after. If you give ’em what they want, you’ll be outta here.”

  “And what do they want?”

  “They want the dirt on Al so they can get more ammunition to press David Greenglass as hard as they can to continue ratting on his sister and brother-in-law. Greenglass is their star witness. They need to make sure he doesn’t back out or walk back on his story that Julius was an atomic spy and Ethel was his accomplice.”

  “You don’t think he’s telling the truth?”

  “Who knows? But that’s not our concern. Our concern is you and getting you out of here. And the key to that is telling me everything you know about Al.”

  “Will Al go to jail?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care—and neither should you,” Ben said, cracking his gum for emphasis.

  Lenore’s face reddened as she thought about Al’s lack of concern for her, and she nodded.

  “I’m your attorney, and my only job is to help you. So let’s start from the beginning. What was your relationship with Al?”

  “He was my boss.”

  “And what were you doing in Albuquerque in May 1945?”

  “I had been running the office for him for several months while he was at Los Alamos,” said Lenore. “And I went there to report to him in person.”

  “Look at you,” Ben scoffed. “Even now after three days in prison, I can see how beautiful you are. Do you really think a judge and jury would believe for a minute that you had a purely platonic relationship with Al?”

  “But he was married and had two small kids.”

  “When did that ever stop a red-blooded man—especially a successful one?”

  Lenore became uncomfortable, and her stomach began to turn. She didn’t answer. Instead she opened the cigarette pack, pulled out a cigarette with her shaking hands, and put it in her mouth. Ben struck a match and lit it for her.

  “Again, Lenore, I’m your attorney, and you gotta trust me. You must tell me the truth.”

  Lenore still said nothing as she inhaled deeply.

  “Okay, Lenore, let’s try this on for size. Fact: there’s another single Jewish woman about your age, Elsa Epstein, who is currently sitting in prison. Just a few months ago, she was convicted of conspiracy to obstruct justice and she got a ten-thousand-dollar fine and a two-year prison sentence. Do you know why?”

  Lenore remained silent but Ben continued.

  “She refused to defend herself. She also lied about being a communist. She was so trusting that she used the same defense attorney as her lover, Ira Birnbaum. She didn’t take the stand in her own defense, because she didn’t want the affair exposed. She was afraid it would be plastered all over the papers and bring shame to her family and Ira’s. Oh, by the way, he’s in prison too. He didn’t take the stand either, probably because he didn’t want the world to know he was cheating on his wife and kids. In retrospect, do you think they’re wondering whether it would have been better to just tell the truth? So we need to get this out of the way now.

  “Oh and one more thing, the Feds most likely know everything you’re trying to hide. So please tell me the truth.”

  “I love Al,” Lenore said, weeping, but then quickly corrected herself. “I loved Al, but that’s over now.”

  “Good girl,” said Ben. “So tell me about your relationship with the Greenglasses.”

  “Well, Ruth was renting an apartment next door to where Al was living, so when I went down to New Mexico, she said she was so happy to have a member of the tribe—another Jewish woman from New York—there, and she started befriending me. She had me over for coffee several times. We’d go shopping and to the movies together, and also the four of us had dinner a few times.”

  “What did she discuss with you when you were alone with her?”

  “Well, mostly her desire to have children. She told me she’d just had a miscarriage and hoped to get pregnant again. She had a burning desire to be a mother. I remember that because having kids was the furthest thing from my mind. And that was what she always wanted to talk about.”

  “Anything else?”

  “She talked a lot about communism. She was a true believer. She thought that communism could solve all of the world’s problems.”

  “Did you say anything about communism when you were alone with her?”

  “No, I’m not political; I just listened.”

  “Good,” he said. “And when the four of you were together, did David talk about communism?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “What about Al?”

  “I knew he had been a member of the Communist Party when he was in college, but I think he had mostly lost interest by the war. Al was very polite, so I think he humored Ruth since she was a good hostess. He would kind of smile and agree with her, but not get into anything too heavy.”

  “So Ruth and David knew he had been a communist? And do you know what Al told the grand jury when they asked him about his affiliations last year?”

  “He told me he lied. He said he was never a member of the Communist Party.”

  “Bingo. Doesn’t he know that you never lie under oath? Yes, that was bad judgment on Al’s part, the same bad move that Elsa Epstein made,” said Ben. “Now tell me more about David. When you were all together, did you ever hear or see anything unusual?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like did you ever hear David and Al exchanging information? Did they go off alone and appear to be discussing things furtively? Did you ever see them with anyone else that aroused your suspicion?”

  “No, I never did.”

  “Did they discuss work at all?”

  “Al knew what he was doing was top secret. He never talked about his work with me. And I certainly never heard him discuss it with the Greenglasses at dinn
er.

  “The truth is, Al really couldn’t stand David,” Lenore added. “And he said no one else at Los Alamos liked him either. He was a very annoying, in-your-face kind of guy. But I guess Al was glad that Ruth was my friend—and you know, Jews have to stick together. So he tolerated David, both at work and socially.”

  “Did Al ever say what David was in-your-face about?”

  “Not at the time.”

  “But later, when?”

  “Actually, he just started talking with me about it in the last year or so—what with the Rosenberg trial and McCarthy and all that stuff in the news. And, of course, after they questioned him,” Lenore said.

  “What did he say?”

  “Well, he recalled that David was very nosy—actually obnoxiously curious. Al said he was only a machinist—and a soldier at that—but he was forever asking Al and everyone else—the physicists, the engineers, the chemists—about their work. And many of the professionals, including Al, gave him information about what they were doing. It was all kind of casual. They didn’t think anything of it. In fact, they weren’t even sure he understood what they were talking about. After all, they believed they were all part of the same team, and all had been sworn to secrecy. No one could have imagined anyone was a spy. People trusted that the government had vetted everyone very carefully. Al told me that, at the time, he thought it was just David being David, but lately he’d begun to think that David might very well have been a spy.”

  “Interesting,” said Ben. “Oh, and one more thing. Who is the father of your daughter?”

  All at once, Lenore’s heart started beating so fast she thought it would burst from her body. At the same time, violent cramps roiled her stomach.

  Ben took her soft, delicate, manicured hands and cupped them between both of his sturdy, rough ones. He looked into her eyes with kindness and compassion. “Lenore, If I were a betting man, I’d bet the Feds know everything about you already, and whatever they know they will use against you. I told you I am here to help you. I can help you only if you are completely honest with me.”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” Lenore whispered. “I told Mindy that her father died when she was a baby. Now he’s died a second time.”

  Ben convinced Lenore to cooperate completely with the authorities, including telling all she knew about Al’s relationship with David Greenglass. In return, prosecutors dropped the charges and she was released. Lenore was home by Tuesday, a full day before the promised visit from Al’s attorney, Jerry Roginsky. Lenore never knew for sure whether her honesty had helped or hurt Al. The charges against him of conspiracy to commit espionage were reduced to lying to a grand jury about being a communist. He spent six months in jail and paid a three-thousand-dollar fine. Ben tried to reassure Lenore that her willingness to tell the truth had probably helped Al more than it hurt him.

  Ben said to her, “That’s how much the prosecution needed David’s testimony; they didn’t charge his wife in order to get him to testify against his sister and brother-in-law. That’s why Al was the last linchpin. They needed as much dirt as they could possibly get on Greenglass. Once they got what they needed from Al, they reduced the charges.”

  Lenore convinced herself that she simply didn’t care about Al anymore. She was finished. She had seen his true colors and was done with him. All of the sycophants who surrounded him and did his bidding could have him.

  It no longer mattered to Lenore that, despite his stint in prison, Al would become hugely successful. She still wanted no part of him. She didn’t even have second thoughts when she read or saw on TV that the deodorant market had become a multi-million-dollar business. Yes, Al had been prescient—there were ads for male deodorant all over the place. Clever advertising had convinced American men that they needed to smell good too.

  Lenore stayed with Al’s firm until she got another job. Max, as Al instructed him, paid her lawyer’s fees and gave her a glowing recommendation when she sought other employment. But Lenore was crestfallen after her brush with the law and her perceived humiliation and rejection by Al and his associates. She stubbornly refused to take Al’s calls once he was out of prison, even though he had convinced Jennie that she should. He even came to her house once, and she instructed her mother to turn him away at the door. Jennie, always afraid of displeasing her daughter, complied. Without her association with Al, it made it easier for Lenore to perpetrate the lie she had told Mindy that her father was dead.

  She felt that her personal and professional life was over. There was an enormous void in her life, and the intrepid photographer Irv Rosen saw his opening.

  A few days after the ordeal, Irv stopped by the house, ostensibly to check with Jennie on Lenore. He brought a bouquet of yellow roses, which he said was for both of them.

  “Just a little something to cheer up the strong and beautiful Mandelstern girls. And please give Lenore my regards,” said Irv. “And if she needs anything, she knows where to find me.”

  “Well, actually,” said Jennie. “If you have any thoughts about another job for Lenore, let us know. She can’t continue working for Al.”

  “As a matter of fact, the new Jewish hospital on Lakeville Road, which recently opened, may be able to use her. I know the PR gal, and my friend, Leo Berkman, just started as head of personnel. I’ll give Leo a call.”

  “That would be great,” said Jennie.

  The following week, Lenore had her interview with the personnel administrator. He noted her extensive experience and accounting acumen. He also complimented her on her professional appearance, while later saying to Irv, “You don’t see too many glamorous career gals like that in Northeast Queens.”

  “Don’t get any ideas, Leo,” Irv said, all the while thinking that Lenore was someone he would like to know better.

  The Jewish Hospital of Northeast Queens (JHNQ) was only two miles from her home, and the new position enabled Lenore’s relationship with Mindy to improve, at least for the time being. But Lenore was a person who was drawn to successful and powerful men, and although she thought she had learned her lesson, she was still a young, beautiful, and lonely woman.

  She took Mindy to the hospital and showed her the accounting office where she worked. Then she brought her to the hospital coffee shop, where Mindy had a black-and-white ice cream soda with whipped cream and a cherry on top. They both remembered the pleasantness of that day for a long time. But there was not enough sweetness in the world to erase the haunting memory of the takeaway men. Mindy would never forget it.

  Neither would Bronka Lubinski. Only four days off the boat, the toddler had become collateral damage, not only in the Mandelstern calamity, but also in the tragedy of her father’s unknowable and unspeakable legacy. The tale of the takeaway men would be not only a searing and scarring memory, but a metaphor. In many ways, it would define and organize Bronka’s weltanschauung. As she grew, her worldview would continue to be shaped by these traumatic events.

  1952

  BELLEROSE, NEW YORK

  BY THE FOLLOWING YEAR, ARON and Judy had established a rhythm to their lives in Bellerose. It was comfortable for them to live with Izzy and Faye. The older couple took care of their basic needs and helped them navigate their new environment. Aron appreciated Izzy’s guidance and support. He found Faye’s bossiness a little hard to take, but he was adept at ignoring her; retreating into his own world was second nature to him.

  Aron went to shul seven days a week—mostly without Izzy—and to Rabbi Herbert’s delight, he became a valued member of the congregation, where he often led the service and read Torah. When there was a minyan in a house of shiva, Aron was always first there with a cake or a box of cookies, offering to lead the service if there was no one to do it. On the Sabbath, he insisted that Judy come with the twins. His dutiful wife would arrive toward the end of the service and sit in the last row with Bronka and Johanna. People were impressed at how well behaved the little girls were and that a young mother would attend so regularly.


  Izzy was actually thrilled with Aron’s work in the bakery. He was a quick study and had a serious work ethic. He gradually took on more and more responsibility, which allowed Izzy to devote more of his time to the original bakery in Flushing. Izzy even started thinking about eventually making Aron a partner.

  Faye and Judy got along well. Judy just wanted to please and so, in a good-natured way, tolerated, if not always welcomed, Faye’s instruction. And Faye was delighted to give it. Faye shared her cooking secrets, along with her mother and grandmother’s favorite recipes. Together, they made chicken soup, matzo balls, chopped liver, pot roast, and many other traditional Ashkenazic dishes. Faye joked that if they didn’t own two bakeries, they might bake—but what was the point? There was no cake or challah better than Luby’s—Izzy said so himself, Faye reminded her.

  Faye was a yenta, but not in a malicious way. She knew she was a busybody but prided herself on not being a yachna; Faye was not spiteful or mean. She was just nosy, excessively so. Once she became curious about something, she had to investigate and find out the answer. She knew Aron had spoken privately to Izzy about some of what he had experienced in Poland during the war, but Izzy had confided that Aron didn’t like talking about it; it was much too raw and painful. And he was adamant that he never wanted it spoken about in front of the girls. Izzy had also mentioned to Faye that Aron told him that he had instructed Judy never to speak about the Shoah either. He did not want the girls to pick up on it.

  It had not escaped Faye that Judy had the map of Poland on her face—and not Jewish Poland. There was nothing Jewish about her looks—either her features or her coloring. And the young woman barely spoke a word of Yiddish. Why, Lenore Mandelstern could understand Yiddish better than Judy. So could the twins. Faye knew full well that the Jews of Poland spoke Yiddish to one another.

  Neither did Judy seem to know how to make any of the traditional Jewish dishes that Faye was now teaching her how to cook. Okay, perhaps her family had been wealthy and had a housekeeper who cooked, Faye reasoned. But she never spoke of her family either. It was as if she was teaching Judy how to be a balabosta from scratch, making her an efficient Jewish homemaker.