Louis Albert

Grad: Okay, before we get into your early days of living here in Oregon, can you tell me something about where and when you were born?
ALBERT: I was born in Russia, in Kiev – Kiev gubernia. My father was a Rabbi, and I was supposed to be one too, when I was 13 years old; instead of going to rabbinical school, I started in business with one of my uncles. My uncle used to be in the forestry business. He used to buy a lot of timber. I asked him for a job, so he gave me a job. And then when I was 14 years old, my father decided that he didn’t want his sons – we were three sons and six sisters – that we should be slaves to the Czar, because in those days they used to draft the boys when they were 21, and they had to be a soldier for five years and six months. My father had a brother-in-law in Fall River, Massachusetts, so he wrote him a letter asking if they would accept us in Fall River, which is 50 miles from Boston.

Grad: What year was that?
ALBERT: In 1906, and we came through Holland, and I even remember the name of the ship was Rotterdam. We came from Rotterdam, and we travelled nine days on the ship; we landed in New York and finally from there we went to Fall River, Massachusetts. I remember the day when we were in New York was the first day of the San Francisco earthquake. I heard the kids hollering, “Extra! San Francisco earthquake!” Then, while I was walking from the ship to get another ferry to Falls River — I’ll never forget it as long as I live — a young boy was carrying a herring in his hand. Finally he put the herring right over my face, so I still feel like I smell of herring. 

We left for Fall River. I remember it was on a Friday. Saturday was Shabbos and Sunday was blue day. Monday I was out for business. This uncle of mine brought me a box full of flypaper, and I was out selling flypaper. I sold it for four days, then I quit. My mother asked me why did you quit, and I said all the flies died out — no more business. So after that my uncle brought me a box full of notions: pins, needles, stockings, safety pins, elastic. So I was out selling from house to house. I was selling that — peddling. In Fall River they had 250 Jewish peddlers. In those days they used to peddle from house to house and they gave credit. You sold them $5 worth, and you get 50 cents down and then 50 cents a week, and that’s what I was doing. And after peddling for a while I wasn’t satisfied, so I got myself a job with a kosher butcher shop. They had to deliver kosher meat, so I used to get up at four o’clock in the morning and go out and deliver the meat up to nine o’clock. Then I had to go to shul to daven.

Grad: How old were you?
ALBERT: Fourteen years old. Then after 10 o’clock, I used to go out and peddle. Then I wasn’t satisfied, and I heard that a fellow wanted to sell a newspaper route for $20, so I bought the newspaper route for the $20, and from 4 o’clock until seven o’clock, I was out delivering papers. So I had three jobs for four years. Then I had a cousin in Portland, Oregon that my mother raised when his mother died. That was my mother’s sister. His name was Krichevsky, Victor Krichevsky. They changed their name to Kaye. He lived in Portland for many years, so in 1907 I decided to come to Portland. I stayed with Victor Kaye for about two years, and I got a job at N&S Weinstein’s clothing store waiting on customers. Then in 1908 I went back to Fall River, and I married a second cousin of mine; I stayed there until 1911, in Fall River, and I came back in 1911, and I have been here since. In 1911, I had $6.75 in my pocket.

Grad: How did you get here?
ALBERT: I went to New York to get a ticket, but the fellow who sold me the ticket didn’t know where Portland, Oregon was. He was a crook, so he sold me a ticket; I was still a greenhorn, so I had to go through Galveston, Texas by boat seven days, and from Galveston I took the train to Los Angeles, and from Los Angeles I came here to Portland. I could have made it in four days by train if that man would have known where Portland, Oregon was — he never knew anything about Oregon. So I have been here actually since 1911. I’ve been here all my life. I had three daughters–one passed away in 1942, my oldest one–and I still have two daughters: Mildred Sax and Idie Sidell. I have five grandchildren and ten great grandchildren. Three granddaughters live in Los Angeles. Idie Sidell moved to Los Angeles last month, and Mildred Sax is still here. 

In 1911, as I mentioned before, I had $6.75, and my wife was still back east; I couldn’t get a job, and I never worked for anybody in my life. So I walked by on Third and Madison Street, and I saw a fellow had a sign that said, “Wagon for sale.” and his name was Kaufman, a German fellow. I asked him, “Mr. Kaufman, I understand you have a wagon for sale.” He said, “Ya, ich bob.” I said, “How much do you want for it?” He said, “What are you going to do with it?” I said, “I don’t know.” So he showed me the wagon, and I said, “All right, I’ll buy it. I’ll give you $1 down and $1 a week.” He looked at me with a smile. He said, “Tell me, what are you going to do with it? ” I said, “Where can I get a horse?” He said, “Yes, on Front and Montgomery Street you can get a horse.” So I went over there and I asked a fellow if he got a horse for sale or a horse for rent. “Yes.” he said, “I’ll rent you a horse or I’ll sell you a horse.” So he showed me a horse for $15. I said, “I’ll give you $1 down and a $1 a week.” He said, “What are you going to do with it?” I said, “I don’t know.” Anyway, I made the deal. I gave him the dollar. He gave me the receipt. He gave me the horse with a harness and a bag of oats, and I led the horse to the wagon, hitched him up, and I asked this fellow: “If I go out soliciting for cleaning and pressing, would you do the work?” He was in the cleaning and pressing business, and he said, “Sure.”

The first thing I did, I went to Fifth and Hall Street. I didn’t know any people. I rang the bell. A lady came to the door by the name of Mrs. Rosenstein — old timers in Portland. I told her the whole story, that I got a wife and 13 kids and asked if she would give me some cleaning and pressing. So she brought me down a bundle of cleaning and pressing, and she called her sister next door, Mrs. Hochfeld, and asked her if she would give me anything, which she did. Anyway, to tell you the story, the first week I made $48 in cleaning, and I used to tell them stories. They took a likening to me, and that’s the way I started in business. After that, I thought to myself, if the cleaning and pressing is so good, why shouldn’t I solicit the laundry? So I got a contact with the laundry, and I used to pick up the laundry. In 1913, I had the first Ford on the streets. 

The reason why–the story is told right there in the write-up–is because I used to speak six languages at that time. I picked up French, Canadian-French, Russian, Polish and a little bit of Arabic. I mingled with Arabic people. It was easy to pick up a language. A language you picked up mouth-to-mouth, not from reading a book. So I started climbing to Portland Heights instead of going to South Portland to get the laundry for 10-15 cents a bundle. I used to get $4 or $5 a bundle of laundry. Until 1917 I was in the laundry business, and then I sold out to a laundry company for $5,000.

Grad: Did you live all this time in South Portland?
ALBERT: South Portland.
     
Grad: Where were you living?
ALBERT: Well, the first time we lived on Third and Sheridan Street, where there is a big building right now; it was built by Jachetta and Colistro. Sheridan Street had all little houses right up there — Second and Third and First Streets. When I first came to Victor Krichevsky, they lived on Second and Sheridan Street. When I first came to Portland there were no electric cars. They had horse cars, and no paved streets. Morrison Street and Third Street was nothing but wooden planks. The Meyer & Frank building was just completed — a three-story building where they are now. They moved from First and Yamhill Street prior to that time. I took the horse car to Victor Krichevsky’s house. Where he lived, right next door, there lived a fellow by the name of Faveluke. Around the corner was Mt. Hood Soda Works, but they weren’t in the soda water business. They were the Ruvensky family, and they used to manufacture tables and chairs. Right across the street from their place there was the Rosumny family, and they had a bakery. Rosumny had a bakery right there, and right next door was the Ricco family. Ricco was well known in Portland. And right next door to the Faveluke house was Nudelman brothers with their stepmother. They were living right on the corner, and then around the corner on First and Arthur — First and Sheridan — there was a butcher shop.                

Nudelman had a butcher shop, and right next door to them was a fellow named Turtledove. He had a store. Right now Mrs. Turtledove is in the old people’s home. She doesn’t remember anything. And then right on the corner there of First and Arthur Street was the Pacific Laundry, and all the Jewish people were living right there on Arthur Street, Hooker Street, Porter Street. All Jewish people [went] up to the Neighborhood House. The Neighborhood House was already built. It was run by the Jewish people; they are still there, you know, the South Parkway Club. Now coming back to First Street… am I talking too fast? On First and Sheridan Street there were little shacks, and there was a family by the name of Rosenfeld. There was this fellow they used to call him Serulie Rosenfeld. He was a fish man, a great big husky fellow, and he used to go out and buy fish and sell it to the Jewish people. And right on the corner of First and Caruthers Street, Mrs. Levin had a fish market. She just passed away this year. Mr. Levin was a shochet, and he used to kill the chickens for the people, and right next to them was a furniture store owned by the Goldstein family. They have all passed away. 

And right next door to the Goldstein store was a grocery store run by Mrs. Kaplan. She was a sister to the Davis family. And around the next block, there was a fellow by the name of Pander. He held a grocery store on First and Grant, and right across the street was the Geller grocery store; around the corner there, on Second and Grant Street, was the Stansbury flats. Almost all the Jewish people lived right there. Further down on Second Street — Second and Lincoln — there was the Nussbaum family. Abe Rosenfeld lived right around the corner, and Ruvensky lived right around the corner, and Shank, the old man Shank, lived around there. All the Jewish people.

Grad: What was it like at that time?
ALBERT: Like… everybody was happy. The reason why? Everybody knew each other, and they were all poor. They were all new immigrants. Portland was only 900 families at that time, and they had four synagogues in 1911. The Beth Israel synagogue was on 12th and Main Street The Ahavai Sholom was on Park and Columbia streets. The Neveh Zedek was on Sixth and Hall, and the Shaarie Torah was on First and Hall. Since that time three more synagogues went up, but the four were taken care of. The Temple would not admit any Russian Jews. They were selfish. Now, of course, it is surrounded by all the Russian Jews — no more German Jews; they have all passed away. At that time there was a family by the name of Cohn, the Cohn brothers. They had nine brothers — Cohn brothers — and they have all passed away. The Hochfeld brothers, there were eight brothers and one sister, Mrs. Cassell. They have all passed away. Nudelman Brothers, there were seven brothers and two sisters. One sister was married to Moisha Barde, and the other sister was married to a fellow by the name of Bromberg. Before she married Bromberg, she was married to… I can’t think for the moment. 

Then there was the Enkelis family. There were seven brothers and two sisters. In the Rosenfeld family there were four brothers and two sisters. One sister is Mrs. Tanzer. The Rosencrantz family, there were four brothers and two sisters. One was Judge Solomon’s mother, and one was married to one of the Cohns. In the Medofsky family, there were altogether seven brothers and two sisters. One sister is still living — Mrs. Rosumny. Then there was the Horenstein family. This is a mixed family. Altogether, brothers and sisters, there were 14 of them. Then there was a Levine family. He was a reverend in the Sixth Street synagogue. There were five brothers and two sisters. One is living. Then there was the Weinstein family, six brothers, and one is living — Sheftel. The Weinstein family–Mrs. Zidell’s father was one of the brothers.

Grad: Do you remember any specific hard times that you might have felt living in South Portland at that time?
ALBERT: Well, yes. First of all I had a hard time was because the Jewish people never worked for anybody. There are a lot of people who came here. Rothchild from England knew how hard the Jewish people were suffering in Russia during the pogroms; so he made arrangements with one of the ambassadors in the United States whereby if you signed over so many Jewish people to America, whether or not he would give them land. So they made arrangements, and they sent a lot of Jewish people to North Dakota, South Dakota and Nebraska to become farmers. Jewish people are traveling people and business people. A lot of those Jewish people landed in North Dakota and South Dakota, but they couldn’t take it. There was a family like Barde, Moisha Barde. He worked there for 2 ½ years. He was supposed to work 3 years in agriculture, and after they got through and proved that the 300 acres are all clear and they could make a living out of it, they would give them a deed. But not many of them stayed that long, so Barde came to Portland, and he got a job in the city. They didn’t have electricity. They had gaslights on Third Street, Fourth Street, and Morrison Street, and he had a stepladder; he used to go around 5:30 towards evening and go up the ladder up to the lamp, pour kerosene, and light the lamps. He was working for $5 a week. Then he didn’t like it and started in the junk business and made a lot of money. So they had a lot of hardships. Most of them were peddling fruit and junk. 

You will find a lot of rich people today — they are rich — take the Schnitzers. I remember Shaika Schnitzer, the father of the Schnitzer Brothers. They are multi-millionaires today. He peddled with a horse and wagon. He had a partner by the name of Weider. They peddled together, and then they started in the junk business; during the First World War they gave everybody a break, because junk iron was worth a lot of money. So they had a hardship, but they got along. There were organizations. We started the Rose City Lodge in 1905, which I was president of when I was not quite 21 years old. I did a lot of work for this organization. In 1912, we organized an organization called the Valena Farien; then they changed the name to the Portland Hebrew Benefit Association. We used to pay 20 cents a month dues. We guaranteed $9 a week sick benefit. After that, they raised the dues fee, and we had an organization of 400 members. I have a picture here — I could show you some of the pictures. That’s the only pleasure that they had. They used to get together. Friendship…. There was no conceit; there was nobody rich. If any man was worth $5,000, he was recognized as a multi-millionaire — they were all equal, the kindness. We used to have a banquet, The Rose City Lodge, 300 or 400 members to a banquet. They danced the kazochkiz, all kinds of dances, and they had a lot of fun; everybody was kind and friendly [and] smiled. Nowadays when you walk on the street, everybody is mad. Nobody has a smile. I remember the pogroms in Russia After the pogroms, they got over it and started enjoying themselves, but not here anymore.

Grad: How were you involved with the Neighborhood House when you lived in South Portland?
ALBERT: The Neighborhood House… we just used to have meetings up there, that’s all. I was a busy man auctioneering. They claim that I was one of the outstanding auctioneers in Portland. I used to go to the synagogues — Neveh Zedek, the Ahavai Sholom, Shaarie Torah — and they used to call upon me to help them out. And if I wasn’t there on time, people wouldn’t buy until Louie Albert would come in and do the auctioneering. That’s how some of the people felt about it. I used to have a loud voice, not like I am now. As a matter of fact, I never used a microphone; my voice carried loud. I had the strength. Of course, now since 1947, I have had five operations, and naturally it takes so much out of you, and then I am getting older. The next 18 years I’ll be 100 years old. 

Grad: That’s fantastic. You would never know it to look at you.
ALBERT: Years ago what we used to enjoy most were the picnics; and Sunday, especially, we used to take the street cars and go to the Oaks Park, Crystal Lake Park, Council Crest Park, and everybody had a basket of food. And they used to go there, enjoy themselves, and sing all the old time songs from Russia in Hebrew and Russian — any language that they wanted to — and they had a lot of fun; that was a pleasure they looked forward to the summers. They were hotter than they are nowadays. We used to go in June, July, and August. The synagogues used to put on two or three picnics a year, and the Rose City Lodge used to have two picnics a year. We would all get together and raise a little money for charity. My aim was all my life to help people who were in distress. If anybody notified me when I was president of the Rose City Lodge that a certain family hasn’t got any matzohs for Pesach, the next day they had all the matzohs and eggs and everything on the back porch, and they didn’t know where it come from. If I was notified that somebody on Arthur Street or somewhere else hasn’t any slab wood — they used to have slab wood in those days to use for the stove — they would have slab wood within two or three days; arrangements were made that somebody would come and cut the wood for them, pile it up, and put it in the basement. They never knew where it came from.
 
Grad: Who did you contact to do those things?
ALBERT: Well, I was notified. See, when I was president – that was my idea. One story is a man who just passed away not long ago. When I was in the laundry business, I stopped on Second and Lincoln Street where I lived, and a man stands across the street, and he said, “Mr. Albert, Mr. President, I want to talk to you.” So I walked over and I said, “What’s the matter?” He starts to cry — he said, “I was peddling junk, my horse broke a leg, and I haven’t got a horse. What’ll I do?” I said, “What are you crying about? Do you want a horse? Okay, I’ll get you a horse.” He said, “I haven’t got any money.” I said, “You didn’t ask me for any money, you asked me for a horse.” 

So I knew a certain fellow close to the Neighborhood House. He had a stable and he was dealing with horses, so I drove over there. His name was Hackman. I said, “Mr. Hackman, can I buy a horse?” He said, “Horse? What do you want a horse for? You’ve got a machine.” I said, “It isn’t for me, I’ve got to help out a man.” He said all right, so he brings over a horse. I said, “How much do you want for it?” He said, “$15.” I said, “I haven’t got $15.” He said, “That’s what I want — $15.” I said, “It isn’t for me, it’s for charity.” I had $12 in my pocket, and I gave him the $l2. He said, “You’re a bandit, you cheated me down to $12.” I said, “God will help you.” So he gives me the horse and says, “Take it.” I said, “What am I going to do, put it in the car?” I said, “Give me a bridle with a rope.” 

He did, so I tied up the horse close to my truck, and I drove over to this man; I says, “Mister, here’s your horse.” He said, “I haven’t got any money.” I said, “Now you are repeating that again. You didn’t ask me for money — a horse. Here’s a horse and forget about it.” “How will I pay you?” I said, “It’s paid already.” So he got a horse and he was out. Today his children are very rich people, and I got him a horse; he didn’t know who paid for it. I paid for it, but I got it back from the Rose City Lodge because the law allowed me to spend $10, but I spent $12 of my own money, and I never asked for it. So that’s what I was doing, and I used to enjoy doing things for people who were in need. They couldn’t help themselves.

Grad: That’s a wonderful thing to do. We have been talking about the situation then, how are things different today?
ALBERT: The difference today. We are not living in the same world. We are living in a different world altogether. Since the last war, we are actually living in a different world. As a matter of fact, you wouldn’t recognize this world 50 years back. When you go to South Portland today, I don’t even know where I was living. The people are different. They are more conceited. Some of them are vulgar. They don’t have any respect.

Grad: Why do you think it’s changed?
ALBERT: Too much money. Too much freedom. Children haven’t got any respect for their parents. Too much liberty. You take today: you can’t tell a child of 14 years old… you tell them something, a girl or a boy, they pack up their suitcase and they leave. They leave home. I remember when we used to go into my house, my father’s house, and if I made a little noise my mother would say, “Shah, der Tata shlooft.” Papa’s sleeping, be quiet. There was respect. I never had a slap from my mother or father in my life because I respected him. I used to ask him at a Seder, “Pa, how is it possible you’re telling me what Moses did?” He said, “Don’t ask no question, it is written up in the book.” You don’t ask. It’s written in the book.

Grad: You accepted it.
ALBERT: That’s all. Now it is entirely different. The children make you believe that they know more than you do. That’s why everything is different. And then another thing with television, the radio — even a good show. You don’t even see a good show any more. Nothing but singing, comedy, tragedy, killing. We never knew of those things. We knew in those days how to behave, and if you couldn’t say anything good about anybody, don’t say anything.

Grad: Why did you leave South Portland?
ALBERT: We bought a home off 27th and NE Knott Street There was no reason [to stay]. In South Portland the homes were really old, and some of them didn’t even have toilets in the house. They had to be in the backyards — the old time homes. And while the three children were growing up — the three daughters — they wanted to go to Grant High School. So, you know, many times you accommodate the children. On 27th and NE Knott my wife made many friends, there on the east side. Then my wife got sick. She was sick for 10 years, and after she passed away, we lived for a while in this house. Then I lost my oldest daughter, Lena. Then I got married, and I bought this home here; I gave the house to my older daughter, Mildred, and then she sold it.

Grad: How did you feel about the experiences of the Jewish people changing once you moved out of South Portland — the total feeling?
ALBERT: Well, it seems that since they have the automobiles that they never had before, there isn’t that hardship. Years ago they wanted to live close to each other because it was walking distance and they just walked over on a Saturday or a Sunday. Saturday night or Sunday night, they would have little doings. In those days for $1.50 you could entertain a whole crowd. We used to buy six herrings for 25 cents, a big loaf of bread for 5 cents, and we used to have near beer. There was no real beer; that was during prohibition days. And they would get together and play games in the house or play a little poker — 5 cent limit — and they used to enjoy themselves. That’s the only pastime they had. The only other thing they had to do was go to the moving pictures on First and Grant Street A fellow by the name of Wittenberg had a moving picture show — silent pictures for 5 cents. Then you could see a good picture. Then you were busy with your affairs, your business; or some fellows were peddling or some had a business of their own. Saturday night they always made arrangements at somebody’s home. Every Saturday night or Sunday night, they would enjoy themselves–talk pro and con. And then we were busy with meetings, very active in the organizations, synagogues.

After so many years, the automobiles started to come in — a lot of people had a chance to buy an automobile. I bought a Ford for $365, and then a little later on, they had a better car, a Studebaker. You bought it for $800. So they started to move out because they had to have a garage. South Portland didn’t have any garages, so on account of having an automobile, they had to have a garage; so they had to move out on the east side, so they bought a home or built a home for $4,000 – $5,000. We had a chance to build a home, a nice home, and then you had a garage because you had to put a car in there. The car was the main issue, so naturally when one of the friends moved out, then they said what’s good for you is good for me, so that’s the way they got scattered on the east side, then Eastmoreland, all scattered around. Some moved to Portland Heights, and then in South Portland there were only a few left – not many left anymore. First of all, the old timers died out, and the younger generation – they started building apartments– condominiums, you know, so that’s the way it happened.

Grad: That’s interesting. Being [that] the automobile was one of the basic reasons for moving, how did you feel about these changes yourself?
ALBERT: I would rather have it be the old time way because I loved the old-fashioned way. It was warm, sweet. It goes right through you, the old timers. I don’t enjoy this new generation, not at all. I’m not old-fashioned. I don’t feel my age. I feel I’m still 45-50. Not when I walk. When I walk I feel I’m 120. But my mind, my memory, is just wonderful. I can remember the first day that I went to school in Russia. I can remember right now that town where I was born. One night I counted out the names of sixteen men that I haven’t seen for 70 years.

Grad: A great memory.
ALBERT: That’s right. I wrote them down on a piece of paper. The 60 years that I am in Portland, and with all the people I have mingled with, there are 4,835 people died who I know by heart — 4,835 dead on the Neveh Zedek cemetery, the Rose City Lodge cemetery, the Shaarie Torah cemetery, the Ahavai Sholom Cemetery, and the Beth Israel Cemetery. And I know these names–4,835 names that I know by heart, and I can write them down.

Grad: What way did the Depression affect your way of life in South Portland?
ALBERT: Depression? Well, it didn’t affect me at all because I was in a small business. At that time I was in the soda water business, 1929, and I was on a small scale. I had just begun to work. I bought the business for $5,000 and built it up to a million dollar business a year. So I didn’t feel it because I was doing a small business and wages weren’t high. At that time I only had five trucks. Naturally, when I quit the business, I had 30 trucks and 40 people working. In those days I only had seven people working for $5 a day. Now you would pay them $40 a day, so it didn’t affect me. It affected a lot of people. Naturally, I knew a lot of people who were selling apples on the streets and business was bad, but it didn’t affect me at all, because I didn’t have the world to lose, because I started from scratch. 

Like, after I sold out my laundry business, I got into the jobbing business, and I used to go out into the county and buy potatoes. For instance, l00 bags of potatoes for 75 cents a bag, and sell them to the restaurants for $1.25. I was very strong, and I used to deliver those potatoes in one day and make myself $40 – $50 in one day. Then one day I drove by in Tillamook. I had a big truck with solid tires, and I stopped at a farmer’s house and asked, “Do you have anything for sale?” In those days there were no quotations, no papers, no radio. They didn’t know what it’s worth, and he says, “Oh, I don’t know.” I said, “If you’ve got anything for sale you ought to know.” He said, “Oh, I don’t know, I’ve got nine calves.” I never bought a calf in my life. I said, “How much do you want for it.” and he said, “I don’t know.” “Well.” I said, “Can you give me any idea how much they are worth?” And he said, “Oh, how about $30 for the nine calves?” I didn’t know if they were worth $30 or worth $200, so when he said $30, I said, “I’ll give you $25.” Naturally you had to chisel him down. “Oh.” he said, “You look to be a nice fellow. Give it to me.” So I gave him the $25, and I thought I was going to lose $25. I put them on the truck. It was on a Thursday. Friday morning I took them over to Max Brill, the butcher, and I sold them for $95.                
                                                                                                                                         
Grad: Do you remember what year that was?
ALBERT: That was around 1917. I sold them for $95. Then I started buying calves, cows, and bulls. I found out from the slaughterhouses how to weigh them by looking at them, and if the quotation was 5 cents a pound, and if the cow looked like he had 1,000 pounds or 800 pounds. You would take a gamble and pay accordingly, so I learned how to buy cows. I remember one time I drove back from Salem, and I stopped in Woodburn, Oregon. The same thing — I said, “Have you got anything for sale?” He said, “Well there’s a load of apples.” That was in September. “What do you want for them?” “Oh, give me a couple of dollars.” So I took the apples, put them on the truck. I said, “Do you have anything else?” He said, “Oh, here’s some sheepskin, wool from sheep.” and I didn’t know what it was worth. I said, “How many have you got?” And he said, “Oh, a big bundle.” “How much is it worth?” “Oh.” he said, “give me $5.” So I figured, what can I lose? I can only lose $5. I gave him the $5. I took them to Kahn Brothers–they used to be on Front Street– and he gave me $85 for it. As time goes on you can learn a lot about it. Like I told you about languages. It’s from speaking, so that’s it.

Grad: What kind of changes did World War II make on your life and business?
ALBERT: Well, World War II really made a lot of tragedies, you know. Actually, everybody was depressed. Especially what we Jewish people went through in the world. So we hated everybody. We hated the Japs; we hated the Germans. Just like early this morning on the radio, how the Japs are taking over Hawaii. They got $250,000,000 invested already in Hawaii, and they feel that someday they will take over all of Hawaii because they have grown so fast. I have always hated the Japs because I feel they are sneaky, and the German people, you know what they have done to our people. So you feel we have no friends, especially we Jewish people. We feel we have no friends. 

Look, we’ve got Israel, and they don’t let us live. We struggled 2,000 years. It was a desert, and they made a paradise out of it. Jealousy. From an enemy turns into animosity, and from animosity turns to a disease; that’s the way I feel about some other counties who are against our people. For no reason. Why shouldn’t we live in freedom just like any other nation? Of course, as for as that is concerned, there is no nation in the world today who is free. They are all under somebody else’s control and dictators. We in the United States had a free country. We haven’t got it anymore. Everybody hates each other. There is no peace in this world. There never will be, I don’t think, because there are too many nations. We only had 88 nations that we knew; now we have 135. The reason why is that we don’t speak their language. If you would only have one language in this world, we would have a good world, but too many languages; if they do have a conference it has to be interpreted, and sometime maybe they don’t interpret it right. There is always a certain amount of misunderstanding.

Grad: Can we talk about what happened to the businesses in South Portland when the Urban Renewal came in?
ALBERT: All the businesses, naturally, were wiped out. As a matter of fact there wasn’t any businesses left anyway, because people that operated those businesses were the old timers. Now take an illustration: a fellow by the name of Mr. Boxer. Mrs. Boxer is now in the old people’s home. They owned a grocery store on First and Caruthers. There used to be Miller’s drug store on First and Caruthers. He passed away; Boxer passed away. Then a fellow by the name of Katz took the grocery store over. He lost his mind and passed away. There was another grocery store, a delicatessen store, Colistro and Halperin, and they went out of business. Robison had the dry goods store on First and Grant. He died; she died. They named the old people’s home after Mrs. Robison because her children were very wealthy back east. They are all gone, and they gave $50,000 for the Robison Home. Naturally, the old timers were cleared out, so there was nobody there, like the Solomon Apartment House. After Solomon died the bank took it over and they built a new project there. The Linath Hazedek synagogue– all the members died out so they left the synagogue. It used to be a lively place there. Mrs. Kaplan’s grocery store, gone. Geller’s grocery store, gone. And the Shaarie Torah synagogue moved to another location on Park Street. That’s gone. There is nothing left, so that’s the end of it. Because the human being is the one that keeps up gatherings or buildings; after they’re gone, there is nobody to take their place, so there has to be some changes made.

Grad: Do you think it was the Urban Renewal who sent a lot of them moving?
ALBERT: Urban renewal? Well, naturally, after those people passed away there was nobody to replace them, and the buildings were so old they had to be torn down. So the Urban Renewal naturally made a good thing out of it. Now you take where the First Street Synagogue is — used to be — there are beautiful buildings on that corner. When I go to South Portland I don’t even know where I used to live. 

Grad: When you look back though, how do you feel about being a Jew in Oregon?
ALBERT: Well, if you are a Jew it doesn’t make any difference what country you live in. You are a Jew. You are a Jew at heart.

Grad: I mean specific feelings about Oregon itself, having lived your life here.
ALBERT: Well, I don’t feel any different than the day I was born, living in Russia. See, some people claim that the Jews are a religion. To me I always argue with people. They always claim that the Jews are a religion. To me, I always believed that the Jew is a nation because religion… you would have to be a religious person. It doesn’t make any difference. You find a lot of people that are rabbis who turn into being horse thieves. They quit the religion. Now I’m not a religious person any more but I never miss a holiday. Why? Because I don’t want people to talk about me. You see, when you go and daven, you repeat over and over the same things for years and years. It’s just the same. 

A fellow was a very religious man, so he had a pain in his stomach and he goes to see a doctor. The doctor examined him and said, “Go to Dr. Loomis and you’ll have an x-ray. In the meantime, I’ll give you a couple of pills to take.” So he goes to Loomis and has x-rays taken. Finally he comes back in a few days, and the doctor said, “Morris, I think you’ve got bad ulcers. If I were you I would go to the hospital and I’ll operate on you.” He was very religious, so he took his tallis and they put him in a ward, and there happened to be two Irishmen in the ward. But he was supposed to be operated on at eight o’clock in the morning, so this fellow gets up to daven; he puts on his tallis and teffilin on his arms and forehead and goes seven times. He puts on a kind of a strap — have you ever seen a teffilin? — so one Irishman noticed it, and he called the other Irishman and said, “Pat, do you see what I see?” He said, “What? Look at what a clever Jew he is. He’s only here one night, and he already knows how to take his own blood pressure.” So he was really a religious person. He believed what he was taught. The rabbi taught him; his father taught him. But as far to be what you claim is being a Jew — you are a Jew at heart. You are a Jew in your mind. Some people deny it because they are ashamed of it, but you only find a certain — maybe one-half percent of people. You take right here in Portland…a lot of American-born Jewish people; they take a very active part in Judaism [more] than some of the old timers.

Grad: Why do you think they do that?
ALBERT: Well, because the Jewish people have been condemned for so many years — talked about, lied about — since the Romans denounced the Jews, claimed that the Jewish people killed Christ. You know the young generation took it upon themselves. They want to fight for their freedom, and one nation should be recognized as well as the others. Look how many small nations there are in this world, and they claim that they want to own it. That’s the reason why that everybody should help Israel and they should get their freedom, as well as the Finns, the Czechs, which Russia took over; that’s the way I feel about it. A Jew is supposed to be a Jew. You take a lot of actors, comedians — they don’t disown their religion, like Milton Berle, Alan King, or so many other Jewish actors. How do you feel about being Jewish?

Grad: Who did you spend the most time with when you first came here?
ALBERT: Well, when I first came here I joined the organizations, and that’s where I devoted most of my time, like the Rose City Lodge. I started immediately, and then I was president when I wasn’t quite 21 years old.

Grad: Were there any relatives other than the Krichevsky family? Friends?
ALBERT: Oh, we had a lot of cousins. The Krichevsky family brought in a lot of brothers, brother-in-laws, but most of my activity was… I was busy all the time. I never took a vacation until I went into the hospital in 1947, and I devoted my time in the beverage business. I used to invent my own drinks, my own names. Royal Flush Beverages, that was my trade name. Then my other trade name was Ace High, like Seven-Up, and that was my own trade name. I used to make my own colors. I used to cook my own ginger ale. I used to buy from Jamaica, and then I came up with a new syrup drink that was out of this work — a hotcake syrup called Morning Dew. You got up in the morning, and you do for breakfast.

Grad: How did you get involved in this business?
ALBERT: Just got started. I bought out a fellow and ordered him out. It was a small business and good power machines, and then I bought $50,000 worth of machinery; I had 25-30 trucks. My business was just growing, and I used to buy a lot of raspberry juice from Eugene. I used to buy a lot of strawberries, freeze them, and then make strawberry jam; from the juice I used to make strawberry pop. I was the only one in Portland who had fruit drinks. I believed in giving the people a fruit drink. I used to buy oranges — oranges from Anaheim, California — I would say orange juice in 50 gallon barrels, and I used to make soda pop, the orange pop. But it was a fruit drink, and that’s the way I learned the business. I used to devote my time just inventing drinks, just like I liked to cook. I just invented a new liver sauce. I make my own chicken liver sauce, sweet and sour — out of this world.

Grad: How do you do that? How do you make it?
ALBERT: You take the chicken liver, put a little onion with that, and then sweeten it — sweet and sour. Put in two tablespoons of sugar and a half a teaspoon of citric acid. Then, I’m supposed to be the best borscht cooker in the city. I cooked for Hadassah a few years ago, and then I came up to the old building, the Center when they had the old building, and I brought twenty quarts of that; they sold it for $2 a quart, and the ladies said, “I’ve been cooking for thirty-five years, but I never tasted borscht like this.” I like to be busy, but when I’m in the kitchen, all the women have to get out.

Grad: Well, that’s the best way — only one cook.
ALBERT: Well, I’m getting tired.