Mollie Blumenthal

Tanzer: Mollie, where did you and your family come from?
BLUMENTHAL: Well, I am a native Oregonian. I was born in Portland. My father originated in Latvia. As a young boy, he and his parents came to Boston, Massachusetts and settled there. My grandfather actually settled in Dorchester and Revere Beach, Massachusetts.

Tanzer: What year was that?
BLUMENTHAL: I don’t know. I know he came over as a very young boy. I have to sort of backtrack.

Tanzer: When did he come to Oregon?
BLUMENTHAL: He came to Oregon for the Lewis and Clark exposition in 1905. He came from Boston. My mother was born in Bucharest, Rumania, and she came to Portland on July 4th…. Now I have to go back to history. Who was the president? McKinley? Before Roosevelt? [She came] at the time of McKinley’s administration. I am so sure it is July 4th, because she has so often repeated the story that she thought America was so marvelous because they were celebrating her arrival with firecrackers, when in reality July 4th was [America’s] birthday. So when she heard all those firecrackers, she thought it was because of her arrival in Portland. 

My mother came here to join her husband, Mr. Alex Schwarz, because he had come ahead of time, because his brothers were here. She came with two of her five sons. She had had two sons previous[ly], but they passed away in the old country. She came with two of her oldest children. They were born in Bucharest, Rumania, and I would say that was at the turn of the century. My mother subsequently had become a widow and was left with five boys, the youngest of whom was about six or seven. The oldest was about 17 years old. There was about a ten-year span between their ages, or even more. When my father came to Portland, I don’t know how the romance blossomed or who introduced them. I think Mrs. Lenschner introduced them. Mrs. Lenschner is Nettie Geffen’s mother; she was the sister of Mrs. B… I am trying to identify Mrs. Lenschner. From what I understand, she was a matchmaker, and as a result of that marriage, that union, I was born. I was born in the home where we lived for many, many years. That was on Sheridan Street, which was deep in the heart of South Portland. We were bounded on the west by Italians and on the east by colored people, and in between were Jewish people. There certainly was no race prejudice then. Everybody got along.

Tanzer: Did you live on Baker Street?
BLUMENTHAL: No. I was born on 234 Sheridan Street, which is Second and Sheridan. Our immediate neighbors were all Jewish people. The Beckers and the Perkels across the street. The Gurian family – our homes practically adjoined. Mrs. Gurian’s sons and my mother’s sons were contemporaries from the oldest down to the youngest. There was always someone to play with, like another Gurian boy, you know.

Tanzer: How many children were there then in the family in all? In your family?
BLUMENTHAL: Living there, there [were] the five boys and myself, my mother and father. So we are talking about eight people in a two-bedroom home.

Tanzer: You had other stepbrothers and sisters.
BLUMENTHAL: You see, my father was a divorced man and his [ex] wife [lived with] the children in Providence, R.I. When he learned that his ex-wife had passed away … when he married my mother, he told [her] that he had a son. So of course, my mother was very sympathetic that he had a son when he was married before. Then a year or so later, he broke [the news] that he had a son and a daughter. Of course, when my mother heard a daughter, she was thrilled to death, because she had had seven sons in all before I came along. Then, when he saw that my mother was so receptive, then he really told her that he had three children. He had two sons – a boy, a girl, and a boy, and they were living in Providence, R.I. After their mother died, he wanted to bring them out here. My mother was very receptive to it. 

When they came, they were about 12, 13, 14. They were very close in age, maybe sixteen months separating them. So they came [were] not infants. I guess we just all piled in. The house must have been bursting out of its seams. We all lived together. Of course there was quite an age span. I only knew my [half] sister when I graduated high school. She came here in 1929 for my graduation; the first time I knew my sister. I’m really jumping ahead of the story. 

Anyway, they came here and lived and grew up and mingled with quite a few of the people here, quite a few of the old timers. As a matter of fact, when I go to visit my sister, I can go back every year and every year she will always say, “Do you remember so-and-so, and whatever happened to so-and-so?” Because she remembers people that made an impression on her. Of course, everybody remembers my sister. She was a very, very beautiful girl. We always reminisce. I can go back twice a year and I will always hear the same thing: “I remember the B.S. dances, I used to like this fellow, whatever happened to him?” So we always reminisce about the Portland people. They didn’t stay in Portland too long. I would say they left here in the mid-‘20s. They went back to New York and to Philadelphia. I don’t know who they had in Philadelphia and who they had in New York, but that’s where they settled. That’s where they spent their mature years and that’s where they remained. My brother who lived in Philadelphia passed away. One brother went to Los Angeles and he passed away there. Of that branch of the family, there is just my sister [still] living.

Tanzer: What are your earliest memories of the household?
BLUMENTHAL: It was bedlam. I always did say our house was Grand Central Station. I don’t think we ever locked our door. We didn’t have to. You went to the grocery store or you went visiting, that door wasn’t locked. I can remember so keenly that the Gurians were very religious people. My mother never did keep kosher. That didn’t mean that we didn’t believe in Judaism, she just didn’t keep kosher. My father only got religious when he thought he was dying with a ruptured appendix. Then he got terribly religious, you know. But otherwise, fasting on the holidays, he didn’t go for things like that.

Tanzer: When he became terribly religious, how did this manifest itself?
BLUMENTHAL: He would eat out in restaurants, you know, before that. But when he knew he was going to die, he became “holier than thou” and it had to be kosher. But then when he lived, he reverted back to his old habits. 

Anyway, I am trying to get this continuity in here. The Gurians were very orthodox. Mrs. Gurian had a maiden sister living with her that helped her raise all her children, and I can recall that their household and our household, there was a busy back and forth. The windows in the back adjoined, and so my mother would [open] her window, and Mrs. Gurian would [open] her window and in the back they would discuss things, little things, never malicious gossiping, nothing like that. Nobody played cards in those days. There was no TV. It was just family. Everybody was family-oriented. But come Shabbos, come Saturday, Mrs. Gurian and her sister Esther would come in the house. Mother would have fresh baked cookies or fresh baked bagels, and they would sit in their Shabbos clothes. I can remember this. I can remember the smell. I can remember the odor of Shabbos. You know, the chicken soup and the freshly baked bread and the gefilte fish. And the house, a very humble home, but immaculate. And these are my recollections. 

I can remember every Passover. My mother’s cronies, they would have Passover at our house; that was a ritual–always over at Blumy’s. We had neighbors across the street and when my mother would bake bagels on Saturday, if they could smell that, they would some across and they would have coffee in the morning and a bagel. We didn’t come from an affluent family. I would say we came from a poor family. But you know, I think Sam Levenson said this, “We didn’t think we were poor; we thought this was a way of life.” We never had cars. I don’t know. It was just always a fine table but never anything for luxuries.

Tanzer: What did your father do for a living?
BLUMENTHAL: My father came here as a sort of a carnival follower. He was quite a Boston Yankee by that time. He went to work for Joseph Shemanski. At that time, Joseph Shemanski had a pay-as-you-go installment house. It wasn’t the Eastern Outfitting Co., as we knew it in later years. My father would peddle area rugs. He could wrap up about six to seven, go door to door. If a person liked those rugs, they would buy it on the installment plan. Now, the gimmick was to buy this on the installment plan, they had to come in to town and make a payment at the Eastern Outfitting Co. When they made the payment at the Eastern Outfitting Co. for the rugs, they got to look around and see the ready-to-wear. So that is what my father did for Joseph Shemanski for a long time. Then I believe my father became a truck peddler. But I believe my father could never drive a truck, maybe a horse and wagon. But when it came to the truck, my father couldn’t drive a car. So my father always had to hire a chauffeur to drive him to go peddling. So, whatever profit he made went for the chauffeur and expenses, the tycoons.

Tanzer: Who was the chauffeur, do you remember?
BLUMENTHAL: Always some colored kid in the neighborhood, who if he got sick or something, my father couldn’t go out that day. Or some Italian kid. Later on it became my brothers who were unemployed in the Depression. So, if they were indisposed, my father never went out. So, you know, it was a very, very poor livelihood. Anyway, when you say, ‘Do I recollect life at home?’ I just know it was a very, very warm home with no affluence. Sometimes we began to wonder how we would get the money to get the cordwood that was stacked outside because furnaces were unheard of. You had that heating stove. That’s where the social gathering was, around the stove, you know, at night. 

While my father was not religious, he had a fantastic Hebrew background, religious background. He could write Hebrew beautifully and he could read from the Torah beautifully. This I know, because in later years they made him secretary of the Temple Kesser Israel, because he could write out the notices in Hebrew and things like that. As the years went on, of course the boys all left. They got married. So it narrowed down that I had a bedroom all to myself and that was [an] unheard of luxury. So it was just my father and mother and myself at home. Then, after a while we moved from Second and Sheridan Street to SW Sixth and Jackson. I remember we lived right next door to the Catholic Society building that used to be up there. And that was more or less of a mixed neighborhood, but predominantly Jewish people. [We] lived there until 1954, until my mother passed away. As a matter of fact, she passed away in that rented home.

Tanzer: When did your father die?
BLUMENTHAL: My father died in 1940. September 15, 1940. My mother passed away in February of 1954, so she outlived him by fourteen years.
 
Tanzer: Going back to the old neighborhood, did you use the facilities like Neighborhood House?
BLUMENTHAL: Yes. We used Neighborhood House quite a bit. That was even before they put in the swimming pool, before it became grand, but we always did. As a little girl going to Failing School, where I graduated, and even when going to High School of Commerce, which later became Cleveland High, I used to Neighborhood House for my sewing classes, to learn how to sew. That was sponsored I think by the [National] Council of Jewish Women.

Tanzer: Who was your sewing teacher?
BLUMENTHAL: My sewing teacher was Mrs. Sokins. Incidentally, there was Mrs. Charles Kahn and Mrs. Milton Kahn. I remember Mrs. Ben Selling was the principal of the sewing school, and Mrs. Bernstein, Judith Bernstein’s mother, was the assistant principal. I can remember the parties they put on for us little girls. Mrs. Berkowitz, Rabbi Berkowitz’s wife, would have cake and ice cream honoring her son Jack’s birthday. She would give us cake and ice cream. I can remember a few of the teachers, but the very last teacher I had before I went to Clementine Hirsch‘s graduation class; I think her father, Solomon Hirsch, became ambassador to Turkey, if I am not mistaken. Before I went there, my teacher was Mrs. Friedlander, Mrs. Felix Friedlander, whose husband was the prominent jeweler in town. And Mrs. Milton Kahn, Germaine Kahn – and how fantastic – Mr. Kahn became my boss later an in life. When I went to work for Oregon Auto, he was the vice president, and I was his secretary. So that is kind of coincidental. 

Then I belonged to the “Be Natural Musical Club,” which was sponsored by Mrs. Berkowitz. She was Mrs. Metzger at the time and she had a very beautiful voice. We had a musical club and it was called the “Be Natural Musical Club.” The girls I went to school with, we put on pageants. I used to go there for those meetings. I never went to the Hebrew School. I never had much of a religious education. I think I went one year to Sunday School. [But] I was aware of the High Holidays. None of my brothers were bar mitzvahed, and I always said to my mother, “Everybody is bar mitzvahed!” And she said she never had the money to make bar mitzvahs. We used to play… we used to play in the gulch. When somebody would say, “Where do you live?” I used to say “I live on Sheridan, right near the gulch.” That’s where we played. Then we played up where it’s now Duniway Park. It was not Duniway Park as we know it now.

Tanzer: What was it like then?
BLUMENTHAL: It was a fill. The railroad tracks on Fourth Street used to go by there. We used to pack our lunch, and it was just great to just go up there and watch the train go by, the streetcar, actually. We used to go up to the park across the street from the Neighborhood House. There was a park there and they had swings and teeter-totters and the hand bars. We used to spend a lot of time there in the library at the corner, an awful lot of time.

Tanzer: Who was the librarian?
BLUMENTHAL: Miss Ida Loewenberg; no, Zelda Loewenberg. Or Zerlina. I forgot what her name was. Ida Loewenberg was the director of Neighborhood House. I remember her very well. Then as I got older, we used to go to the dances that the South Parkway Club sponsored up there. We used to go to the basketball games and watch the South Parkway Club men play. Our social life centered around the Neighborhood House, never the BB. That was like going from South Portland to Dunthorpe, going from Neighborhood House to B’nai B’rith, because that was a different element up there.

Tanzer: What was the element that went to B’nai B’rith?
BLUMENTHAL: In my way of thinking in those days, it was the “ritzier” Jews that went there. And of course I can always remember the feuds that went on between the Failing School kids and the Shattuck School kids. I think it was just one street, which separated whether you went to Failing or Shattuck, and that was always a hot rivalry.

Tanzer: What was the feuding about?
BLUMENTHAL: When you went to Failing, that means you failed, and stuff like that. I remember the only claim that I could lay to fame is that I was chosen, by virtue of the process of elimination, to represent the 6A class in a spelling bee in Portland, sponsored by the Oregonian and Edgar Piper, who was the editor of the Oregonian. I remember that. And I was chosen to represent all the grade schools in the 6A. Oh gosh, the hoo-hah and the excitement in the household, and getting my dress ready for me. I must have been ten or eleven years old, when I was in 6th grade. Miss Segal was my schoolteacher. Miss Segal was the sister to Mrs. Julia Swett; she was my schoolteacher in that grade. I came in second. I didn’t know how to spell the word “weary” and I spelled it “wary,” but I did win a lovely Waltham watch and everybody was so proud of me. Then I was playing the piano at the time; we were very poor, but I always had a piano and money for lessons.

TAME: Who was your piano teacher? 
BLUMENTHAL:  My piano teacher was a Miss Felton. I had got to the stage where I was in a recital. I could hardly reach the pedal. Miss Brown was my piano teacher then. She later became Mrs. Tarlow. We had a recital and somewhere I have pictures of me with my little basket of flowers [that were] presented to me. I had reached the point where I could play the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, and for just a child that was unbelievable, you know. Of course, I couldn’t even play Do-Re-Mi now, because like every other thing, you got to practice. I didn’t want to practice, so my folks felt it was just a waste of time. That was part of my childhood. I really think I couldn’t be indulged in, because there was never enough money to indulge me, but I don’t think I was spoiled, even though I was raised with five brothers. I don’t think I was spoiled, because I think I had to go out and earn my living and help contribute. When I graduated grammar school, I went right to work. I didn’t go to college.

Tanzer: Now, when you graduated from grammar school, was it the eighth grade?
BLUMENTHAL: Yes, you graduated from grammar school from the eighth grade. I graduated in the summertime, in 1926, I think. And then come the fall, I entered Commerce High, because I wanted to take a commercial course in shorthand and typing, because I wanted to go to work fast. I graduated when I was seventeen from Commerce. I was active in a few clubs in high school. But socially, not too much, still sticking with my little girlfriends. I was very late in maturing, I guess. I hope I am making up for it now, but I was very late in maturing. I was always young.

Tanzer: Were your friends the same?
BLUMENTHAL: The same age, and I had a lot of girlfriends. We had parties, and the boys would sit on one side and the girls would sit on the other side. If someone had a truck, we would pile on the truck and go out to the Oaks Park, you know, or something like that. But it was never a social life, like we know it today. It’s only after I got out into the business world that I really began to thoroughly enjoy myself and have some kind of a social life, but never in high school. I don’t think I even went to the high school prom. That was bad.

Tanzer: Why didn’t you go?
BLUMENTHAL: I wasn’t asked, and my mother said it doesn’t make any difference, to make me feel good.
 
Tanzer: Now by that time, by the time you graduated, your brothers were all gone?
BLUMENTHAL: My brothers were all gone from the house. They were all married. Every one of them was married. I was at home with my folks and worked and contributed [to] the house. My father was in the hide, wool, and fur business. Things had gotten a little bit better then, but then too, it was never great.

Tanzer: What was your mother’s social life like?
BLUMENTHAL: Well, to know her is to love her. My mother died when she was 77 years young. She was a very, very young-at-heart woman. If you know Nate and Charlotte, this was my mother – very outgoing, a million and one friends, belonged to every club, never turned anybody away for a donation. She was very interested in the City of Hope; that was her pet. She was very interested in that. When she died, my brother Nate’s associates at Meier & Frank, and one of our friends, had contributed a vast amount of money [to City of Hope]. There is a sustainers’ window at Duarte, California with my mother’s name on it. That was her pet charity. And the Old People’s Home, she believed in that.

Tanzer:  Where was the Old People’s Home then?
BLUMENTHAL: It was on Third and College… or Hall… College, I think. She was always interested in that. She belonged to the Mizrahi. She didn’t belong to Hadassah and certainly not to the Council. She was always generous, whether it was 25 cents or whether it was as much as she could give. She never turned anybody away. She loved cards, whether it was gin rummy or poker; that was her social life [with] my father. You, see my mother never played. My father always played, and she would always go and watch, and then she learned. My father thought it was terrible that she was playing so much cards, and he stopped playing. All her cronies played and they would meet. Then the husbands and wives would even play poker and had picnics on Sundays. 

The entertainment was around [my] house. My mother had loads of friends. She had a fantastic disposition. She always used to say about people who talked about other people and their children, I guess there is an old saying, “If you have children of your own, then leave others alone, because you don’t know how they are going to turn out.” Of course, my mother had a few little setbacks because of five of her sons: four intermarried. So the only Jewish daughter-in-law she had was [my] brother’s wife, Ida. But with it all she made the best. It was none of this, “I am going to disown you!” You know, she made the best of it, and the daughter-in-laws loved her dearly. They really did. She was just wonderful. I get a great amount of satisfaction when people say today, when I take them some place or when I accommodate them some place, “Believe me, you are just like your mother. I used to love your mother.” It makes me feel good.

Tanzer: I heard wonderful stories about your mother, too. Mollie, tell me, what was the entertainment in the area as you were growing up? I imagine Oaks Park, but were there movie theaters?
BLUMENTHAL: They went to the theater. Then the Jewish Theater came to Portland, and on a Sunday that was a must, the Jewish theatre. It was held sometimes at Lincoln High (they would rent it), sometimes at the Swiss Hall, which was on Third Street; I think that was before your time, near the auditorium. They would go to the Jewish Theatre. They would go visit other people. It was around the home. Surprise parties for someone’s anniversary, maybe. Things like that. Bar Mitzvahs.

Tanzer: Did they belong to any couples clubs?
BLUMENTHAL: They didn’t have to be organized into clubs; they were a group within themselves. There must have been about seven or six couples. The entertainment was all in the home.

Tanzer: Did you go to the movie theater?
BLUMENTHAL: To the movies, yes. The Bergs owned the theater. There was another man who owned it; Mr. Wittenberg owned it on First Street, and I think I went there, but primarily we went to the Berg Theater. Mr. Berg had it. Then later on, I went to the Lincoln Theater, which was on Third and Lincoln. We would go there on a Saturday. I can remember my mother getting dressed up on a Saturday and going downtown and going to the movies. Because she had arthritis, it was very hard for her to get around. Then going in and having a waffle and a cup of coffee. That was a big outing. Then calling a cab and going home. This was later in life, of course. Stage plays as such, legitimate stage plays they never went to, but they did go to the Jewish Theater. 

I tell you what was a big outing, [well not] not a big outing, but a thing that always stands out in my mind. I can remember Saturday nights in South Portland, especially in the summertime, of course. People would come out and they would sit on the stoops of different stores and they would rubberneck people coming down to South Portland to buy kosher stuff. The butcher shops would open Saturday nights, you know. To me, that is an era that is long gone. Or sitting out on their porches, like Hogants Alley, talking to people across the way. If it was a very hot night, somebody would buy ice cream, somebody would buy the cantaloupes, and they would make cantaloupe a la mode. Or they would have watermelon. Just in the neighborhood, like a block party. Every Saturday night. In summertime, of course. 

South Portland, you see, we were on 2nd and Sheridan. You go to First and Sheridan, First and Sherman, First and Caruthers, all the way up First Street, there was activity of people coming there to buy things, talking. Maybe people that moved up to Sixth Street or the Park blocks came down. Or people that moved to the East side drove down to pick up stuff at the bakery, at the Rosumny Bakery. It was alive, and no matter what time of the night. You were never afraid to walk on the streets, never. The only one you were ever afraid of was the cop on the beat. There was a cop on the beat, and if you were out a little bit too late, you were scared to death.

Tanzer: What would they do?
BLUMENTHAL: You have respect for the uniform. [If] there was a policeman there you were frightened.

Tanzer: Mollie, we were talking about your respect for the police and the policeman on the beat. Did you ever have any unpleasant experiences with the policeman?
BLUMENTHAL: I had a very [?] experience. My mother had her girlfriends over, playing poker one night, and they were playing for cash on the table. My father got hold of the policeman on the beat. That was their beat, so they got to know pretty much the area that they were patrolling. My father got this policeman to come in the house and say, “This is a raid!” Well, those women just screamed and they carried on and it was hilarious. This was the type of thing as far as the policeman went. I don’t think there was any serious crime in that neighborhood, and I am talking about 1929 to the ’35. There wasn’t any serious crime. It was a melting pot then. It was the ghetto. That was it.

Tanzer: Was it that you had respect…?
BLUMENTHAL: He went with a billy club! I think today if more of them went around with a billy club and cracked a couple of skulls, they would be better off, too. But no, never, and none of my brothers did. It was the law. That was a policeman; it was the man in blue.
 
Tanzer: When you were talking about the dates, 1929 and 1930, that was the Depression. What do you remember about the Depression, Mollie?
BLUMENTHAL: Well, actually, Shirley, I was born in the Depression. I grew up in the Depression. We never knew affluence or being very comfortable. I never knew that. Actually, I have discussed this with my brothers. What a shame – of course, my father is gone now 36 years – but what a shame that mother couldn’t be alive today. We, situated as we are today, could do so much for her that we couldn’t do then. I don’t know if she ever felt that she was lacking anything. All the women would go to Marietta Springs for their aches and pains, and the sons were going to write out the checks to send them, and we didn’t have it. I always felt so badly. Things like that. I just wish that she had been alive today. If she had wanted to go there, it would be no problem. Those are the things. I never have a regret of ‘Why did I do that to my mother?’ or ‘Why did I say this?’ Never. Because I know when she was alive, she had all the love and respect in the world, so in that she was rich.

Tanzer: Were you working during the Depression?
BLUMENTHAL: Let’s see. I graduated in ’29… Yes. When it was Christmas holiday when I was in school, they used to have a dollar store owned by Japanese people here. It was a novelty store – they had underwear and toys and games. It was just a general mercantile store. They used to hire some high school girls and I used to work on Saturdays there. It was my very first job, as a salesgirl.

Tanzer: What was the name of that shop?
BLUMENTHAL: It was the Dollar Shop – the International Dollar or the Dollar Shop. It was run by Japanese people. This was in ’29 while I was going to high school. I worked on Saturday. I probably am the only girl in Portland that never in their lifetime had really been a Meier & Frank employee, because that’s where most of them went.
 
Tanzer: Why did most of them go there?
BLUMENTHAL: There [were] an awful lot of Jewish girls that worked at Meier & Frank Co.

Tanzer: What were the options for Jewish girls?
BLUMENTHAL:  Office jobs, Roberts Bros., sales girls, never domestics, clerical help. When I graduated, I went to work for the Periodical Publishing Co. That sounded really elegant, to work for a publishing company, but all it was [was] an agency for magazines: True Stories and Modern Screens and Good Housekeeping. They had salesman, you know how it is, door to door, signing you up on contracts and all that. That was my first job.

Tanzer: What did you do for them?
BLUMENTHAL: Well, I was in the office, and I sent out statements. When the money would come in, I would make the bank deposits. I was never terribly good at figures; I never knew how I held that job. Before I graduated High School, I was taking a typing course. My brother Nate knew an awful lot of businessmen and attorneys in town. He thought it would be neat, so he called up an attorney friend of his, if he could get me an old file to copy and show how a complaint was drawn up or a brief and stuff like that. That would give me great experience, so I could get a job in a law office. So I would go to this attorney friend and he would give me old yellow copies of old-time cases he had. I rented a typewriter and I was typing away; you’d think my life was depending on it. I had to finish this thing just so that I would get the idea. I would do that before I went in to High School. I worked for an attorney, temporary work. I never did care for legal work. I never did. So after I left Periodical Publishing, I went to work also through my brother Nate, who knew this man very well. I went to work in the claims department for the Aetna Casualty Surety Co., with their home office in Hartford, Connecticut, in their claims department. I worked there from 1930-1935. 

My sister and her husband came out to visit in the summer. I was 21 years old then and they wanted me to come out to Philadelphia to live with them. They thought a change would be good, to get me away from Mother and Dad; it was too close. I motored back East with them. I motored to Philadelphia and I was lonesome from the day I got there. Three months later I was back in Portland. I went to work for the Aetna Casualty. I took a leave of absence, but the leave of absence lasted three months, because I was back working at the Aetna. I worked there for 12 years. Then World War II came around and I still worked there. I worked there from 1930 to 1942. I worked there for 12 years. Everybody was making such big money in the shipyards, clerical work and everything, and I was not making very big money, so I quit. My mother said, “Maybe you should get another job before you quit.” But I knew I just had to quit, and I did. 

Then I did a lot of freelance work for an attorney; I worked for a twine company; I went to work for the Commonwealth people. It was the Equitable. They were writing what they called fiduciary insurance at the time, because of the war, and they were afraid of bombs falling on homes. Through the government they were agents, and I went to work for them, because I had insurance experience in the claims department. And I worked for them. This was on a temporary basis, but I got a phone call from Arthur Eppstein, who was the president of Oregon Automobile Insurance Co., and he wanted to see me. Since this job was a temporary job, I made an appointment and went to see him after work. He needed a secretary. Milton Kahn’s secretary was quitting. He interviewed me, and he made me an offer. It wasn’t as much as I was getting when I quit the Aetna, so he said he would take the difference out of his own pocket, but I shouldn’t tell the other girls because they had been there longer. That worked for two months and then I was put on the payroll on the going salary that the girls had made that were working there longer, because I was an experienced girl.

I was Arthur Eppstein’s secretary, and I was the Oregon Auto from 1942 until I retired [on] December 31, 1975. So I was with them 33 years, and I watched the company grow from six girls and three men to over 400 people. Arthur Eppstein died in 1954. I was his secretary from 1942 to 1954. When he died, his son-in-law Maxwell Unger became president. I was Maxwell’s secretary from 1954, until he sold the company to a Milwaukie, Wisconsin operation in 1964. Then I became the secretary to Mr. Brooks, who was the executive vice president. Of course, Maxwell had to retire from the office completely having sold the business. He was of that age. Then I became Mr. Brooks’ secretary. When he became 65, he retired, and then I became Mr. Wilson’s secretary. I always said that women are more durable than men, because I lasted [through] four presidents. 

That was my career with Oregon Auto. I really didn’t have too many jobs. I did a lot of temporary work until I made sure. I said when I quit Aetna, “Never again will I stay with one company; that is too long.” But then I stayed with the Oregon Auto 35 years, and it was a wonderful, wonderful experience, because I learned a lot of wonderful things from Mr. Eppstein. 

At my retirement party, my boss said to me: “Well, which one was the best president?” And I said, “Arthur, wherever you are, you are.” And he was. A fantastic man, very humanitarian, a very generous man, a very philanthropic man. He was a lobbyist in Denver; he was promoting a sewer or pipe thing. When he came here, he went into the piano business. I don’t think he knew too much about the piano business. Then he had the opportunity of going into an insurance business. I think Mrs. Eppstein was the one who had the financial background, and he formed a corporation with Milton Kahn. Milton Kahn’s father in-law, I believe, was Leo Samuels, who was one of the founders of the Standard Life Insurance Co. here in Portland. I believe [he] was Germane Kahn’s father. At the time they formed this corporation, I believe it was called the Oregon Reciprocal Co., which later on became Oregon Automobile Insurance Co. It was a very highly successful company.

Tanzer: How involved was this man with Jewish activities?
BLUMENTHAL: I would say Mr. Eppstein was a born organizer, and he was a leader. He headed up the Jewish Appeal. I don’t think they called it that at that time, did they? But he was involved a lot with B’nai B’rith. Milton Kahn was not that involved. Milton Kahn was a very cultured man. He had a lot of interest in the arts and things. I suppose it is kind of scranchy [?] to say this, but he was involved with the American Council of Judaism.

Tanzer: That is a matter of record anyway.
BLUMENTHAL: He and a group of men with Rabbi Elmer Berger. I was his secretary at the time when that was being formed. I know a lot of people joined, because when they heard American Council for Judaism, well, anything for Judaism, they are going to belong. As a matter of fact, I knew of one man who kept saying to that group, “Take my name off that mailing list. I am not a member and I don’t want to be one. If you are going to continue sending me notices, I am going to sue.” He was very vehement about it, because he didn’t believe in what the Council of Judaism believed in. Nor did he believe in what Rabbi Berger believed in. A group of people here thought that their attention and their efforts and their stamina could be directed to something more interesting and more productive than the American Council for Judaism.

Tanzer: Since you handled all the correspondence, Mollie, do you remember what their philosophy was?
BLUMENTHAL: Yes. They didn’t believe in Zionism. They didn’t believe in Israel as the homeland, and they believed that the Jew was a citizen of the world and did not need to have a homeland. To tell you the truth, Shirley, every time I come in there to take a letter on this, it would be like waving a red flag in front of me because I didn’t believe in it. Of course, I couldn’t be too vocal because he was my boss, you know. A group of men that were involved in this, the same group of Jews. The German looks down on the Russian, the Russian looks down on the Pole… It was the same element.

Tanzer: The upper echelon.
BLUMENTHAL: Do-gooders that never give anything, that never contribute a heck of a lot. That was a cause that they hitched onto.

Tanzer: Did they ever reflect upon World War II and the fact that the Germans had almost annihilated European Jewry?
BLUMENTHAL: No, I never heard that. I do know that while Mr. Eppstein and Mrs. Eppstein were not Zionists, they were very big contributors. They believed very much in that. As a matter of fact, I believe when Arthur Eppstein died, in his will he left a contribution for the Jews.

Tanzer: Did he join this American Council for Judaism?
BLUMENTHAL: Mr. Eppstein wouldn’t. 

Tanzer: Did he ever vocalize his feelings towards this particular group?
BLUMENTHAL: He said, “Any time Milton Kahn is behind anything, I am not for it.” He did not belong. At first I thought, gee, American Council for Judaism! At that time, ’42, that’s great. Whenever they came into prominence, that was great, until I found out what their purpose was: it was to knock down everything that Israel fought for. It was just a complete contradiction of everything. I saw the membership, I saw who belonged, and they certainly were not people who contribute anything here to the local society for Judaism.

Tanzer: What was their reaction when Israel did become a state in 1948?
BLUMENTHAL: Well, I think they were still active here. I think they died a slow death, though. I think people began to pull out. I really don’t recall. Whose reaction would it be – it would have to be Milton Kahn’s reaction – and I think by this time he was not discussing this with me too much.

Tanzer: Mollie, I would like to ask you about those families. Have those families retained a prominence in Jewish life in Portland?
BLUMENTHAL: No. The only one that has is Maxwell Unger, the son of Arthur and Viola Eppstein. He became the head of the Jewish drive one year. He may be not as active physically as he is monetarily, because he supports everything, even this lovely Jewish Community Center. He doesn’t use the services, but he is on that. He belongs to every worthwhile organization. He belongs to the Temple, to the Jewish Family and Child Service. His son, Mickey Jr., belongs to the Temple. Mickey intermarried, but his wife converted, and the children go to the Temple. Shirley is active a little bit in Beth Israel, but not in Jewish organizations, as such. Mr. Eppstein had a daughter, Lilly Morris. They called her Bill, because he always wanted a son. Bill married her first cousin, Mr. Eppstein’s nephew, who was a Professor of Law at the University of Pennsylvania. He is very highly regarded, he has written many law books. He had been asked to come to Oxford on a Fulbright Scholarship. He went. He is now retired as a member of the faculty of the University of Pennsylvania. Mr. Eppstein was one boy among six sisters, and the sisters in Denver were very prominent women, very active in Jewish affairs. As a matter of fact, he had a sister whose first name was Seraphina. Then Mrs. Mollie Morris, who [was one] of the pioneer members of the National Jewish Hospital in Denver, that was their baby.

Tanzer: Has there been any continuity in this community at all?
BLUMENTHAL:  Not at all. Bill Morris never had children. Mrs. Morris did, and she adopted a son who is a Professor of Law at the University of Minnesota, but [he has] no connection to much of Judaism.

Tanzer:  Let’s go back to your life, Mollie. What do you remember about your life during the war years? Life in South Portland during the war years? 
BLUMENTHAL: Of course, we moved away from Sheridan Street and we lived up on Sixth Street.

Tanzer: The area was changed.
BLUMENTHAL: Yes, it was. I was trying to think. I was going to go to work as a volunteer…  

Tanzer: The USO?
BLUMENTHAL: No, I was never good at that. Walking, not a block watcher. A lot of the girls manned these…

Tanzer:  Along the waterfront?
BLUMENTHAL: No, they were in the Eastern Outfitting Co. building. It was a nerve center [or] something.

Tanzer: Oh, I see – where calls would come in from block captains or from people?
BLUMENTHAL: I am trying to think of their title or name. Anyway, I wasn’t very good at that. I would go up to the Jewish Community Center up on 13th and attend some of the USO functions up there. I was never terribly active in war effort work. Of course, none of my family were involved, except Charlotte did join the WACS. That was our only involvement in World War II. Of course, my brothers were way past the age [for the military], and their children were too young for it. Charlotte was the only one who went into the WACS.

Tanzer: Who were your friends at that time? 
BLUMENTHAL: The friends I went to school with.

Tanzer: Have they married?
BLUMENTHAL: Most of them married, but then there was a few who hadn’t married. And then along the way, I met a few other friends through friends. I had dates with some of the ensigns who came here and a few of the sergeants who came here, you know. But those were fleeting things. There was never anything permanent about that. I went to a few of the dances. I would say that my social life as I got older was much more enjoyable than it was when I was younger. I went on trips and always went on nice vacations, and always went East to visit and thoroughly enjoyed that. I was never lonesome. There was always something that kept me interested. I was never lonesome. I was never bored, I would say.

Tanzer: Did you continue to live with your parents?
BLUMENTHAL: I lived with my mother until the day she died, yes. Always. It wasn’t just moving out and getting an apartment of your own. I wouldn’t want it, because I felt my mother was my friend. I liked her.

Tanzer: So as the neighborhood began to change, as people moved out…
BLUMENTHAL: They moved out. It was no longer a Jewish neighborhood; it was a mixed neighborhood. Maybe I would still be living there if my mother was alive. As finances got a little bit easier, you know, I think we would have moved to maybe to a nicer neighborhood, a nicer section, a nicer apartment. But I stayed there all the time until she died.

Tanzer: In the later years that you lived there, did your mother feel any dissociation with the neighborhood because it had changed so much?
BLUMENTHAL: No, because up around the Park blocks there were an awful lot of Jewish women, and by this time they were all widows, you know. So she had all kinds of cronies. She was always busy, and if she didn’t have a game and she wanted – I am talking just before television came on strong – and if she wanted a poker game, and if she wanted people to come out, she would get on the phone. She would say, “You ought to see what my kids bought me, you wouldn’t believe it, this beautiful television set.” The women would all come flocking in for poker. No television set. She would use any subterfuge to get them out of the house to play poker. But then, of course, later on television came and people sort of had their entertainment in their home. Her entertainment was cards and she had the women to do it, because they all were widows. I am talking about Mrs. Director, Frank and Nate Director’s mother. Mrs. Sugarman, Nate Sugarman’s mother. Mish Rosencrantz’s mother and George and Rod Rosencrantz‘s mother. These were all my mother’s girlfriends. So she had a ball. She was always on the go.

Tanzer: Now does your life still pretty much revolve around your family, your brothers?
BLUMENTHAL: It used to be. Every Friday night, Ida and Nate and Charlotte (when Charlotte was home), we’d come for dinner, my mother and I. Then when my mother passed away, we still wanted to maintain that tradition. So every Friday night we go out to dinner to this day, unless there is a special affair that Charlotte is invited to or Nate or I. We meet every Friday night, and then we go to dinner. We try to hold on to that. It wasn’t that important to my other brothers. They were Jews, and God help you if you said anything [bad] about them, but they were not Jewish. So it wasn’t that important to them as it was to Nate, and we tried to keep that. 

When my mother was first gone, I tried to make a Passover dinner, the closest thing to it. I had matzah in the house. That was Passover. But I am close to my brothers. I don’t see them all the time, but we talk. We check on one another and I know when the chips are down, and when I am needed, I am right there. And I am sure they know, vice versa, its the same thing, blood is thicker. As far as my sister and my brother in the East who have died since, I didn’t have that closeness with them because I didn’t grow up with them. It was only in my adult life that I saw them. I dare say, without being conceited, my sister just adores me. I can’t feel that way about it. It’s the growing up together and the sharing that brings you closer. Still I want to see her, I want to go there because that was my father’s daughter.

Tanzer: Now your role has been rather non-traditional; you never married and you have been a career woman. How do you see your life now?
BLUMENTHAL: I am trying to do the things that I had never time to do before. I did belong to Junior Hadassah, when I first started working. Then, Shirley, I just didn’t get a charge out of being with women. I am not a joiner. I really am not. I am not that crazy about club work, per se. [But] when I retired and have an apartment, you know, I couldn’t just sit in my apartment and just watch the boob tube and read a book. I had to be involved a little bit. 

I am glad I am a moral woman, because I can’t say no. I was asked to be the Financial Secretary for the Robison Home. My mother always believed in the Old People’s Home and I did too. So I said yes, I will accept that. I became the financial secretary handling the Ms to the Vs. Then I was asked if I wouldn’t help with the Cystic Fibrosis, because I think it’s important to do volunteer work for non-Jewish organizations, too. So I said yes, I would do that. I was asked if I would be the recording secretary for the Jewish Historical Society of Oregon, and I said yes to that. And of course, when you cornered me, I said yes to this. But I can just spread myself too thin and still do a good part. So this is the role I find, to be a little involved in Jewish Community work and to give as much as I can financially. In this respect I carry on the tradition of what my mother believed in, you know, and retain the friends I got and always make new friends.

Tanzer: What about your childhood friends? Where are they now?
BLUMENTHAL: They are here. Of course a few of them have left Portland. We were talking about the Berg Theatre. Mona Paulee (nee Berg) was a very close friend of mine until she went away, and I think she won the Sherwood Williams contest. When I was visiting in New York with my sister, I contacted Mona. She had a studio apartment right in Manhattan proper. This is a funny thing to say. I hope Mona never hears this recording. Anyway, I was entertaining about six people at the Essex House for lunch. Because they were so nice to me, and they were friends of my sister’s, I said to Mona, “I want you to meet my sister, come on over.” At that time she was in… You know, Big D. The hit song was Big D – “Standing on the corner…”

Tanzer: “Most Happy Fellow”
BLUMENTHAL: She was the “Second Banana,” something like that, and when my sister knew that I knew a celebrity, she was so impressed. Mona came over and we had a wonderful, wonderful afternoon together. It was so funny. I was such a big shot at the Essex House, six people for lunch and cocktails, and I could just see the cash register ringing. And one of the ladies’ husbands came to pick her up, and he had a drink with us. Very, very luckily, he picked up the whole tab. So I was a real big shot in New York City with his money. Anyway she said she wants me to come to her studio apartment.

Tanzer: Mollie, I would like to ask you about your friends from South Portland and what happened to them?
BLUMENTHAL: There was a whole group of us kids that lived in the vicinity of 1st and Sheridan, 2nd and 3rd, and all over. Amongst my girlhood friends were Lillian Cogan and Lottie Kaloff, Rose Spivak, Rose Clement, Minnie Berg, Betty Goldblatt. Those were contemporaries; we went to school together.

Tanzer: What happened to these people?
BLUMENTHAL: Well, during high school, I met a few more of the Jewish girls, like Sara Enkelis – a few more, names escape me – whom I met after I left Failing School and went into Commerce High. Lottie Kaloff got married. We all worked after we got out of high school, in offices or at Meier & Frank. Lottie Kaloff went to work for an attorney. She later married Speck Schneiderman. She is now deceased. Rose Swerdlik – I don’t think Rose actually worked after she got out of high school. Rose married Dave Fertig, who died recently.

Tanzer: Were there other opportunities for women in – 
BLUMENTHAL: If there was, it wouldn’t have been anything that I would have been particularly interested in or that I knew of. There might have been some who were nurses. There were a few girls that went to nursing school. Not particularly friends of mine or acquaintances. I have loads of acquaintances, but you know, not many really good friends. I remember Leona Levenson went into nursing, and her cousin Mollie and her little cousin Annie. I know those girls were nurses. But by and large, they went into offices, because by and large all Jewish girls went into Commerce High and took a business course.
 
Tanzer: What about college?
BLUMENTHAL: The only girl that I actually was friendly with that went to college was Diane Bernstein, who became Diane Camp. She went on to Reed. The rest of them they were all in business. As I was saying, Clara Kobin, who was Lillian’s sister, became my friend later on. Our ages sort of equalized, because she was a little older. Rose Bachman was a girl in the neighborhood. Rose Bachman married Wally Goodman and is married now to Ike Davis. She was also in the neighborhood. Rose was a little bit older so she wasn’t considered contemporary, of course, but our ages equalized. The girls would have parties and have the fellows over. Of course, the fellows would be over on one side. They didn’t dance in those days; that was kind of sissified. They were interested more in basketball. The girls would be on one side and the fellows would be on the other side, and we would go on picnics. I remember Dave Bachman, who was Rose Bachman’s brother. He had a truck, so we piled on top of the truck and we went to Sellwood Park for a picnic or to the Oaks Park.

Tanzer: Now, what about careers? Did any of the women have careers? 
BLUMENTHAL: None of my friends.

Tanzer: What about Minnie Berg?
BLUMENTHAL: Minnie Berg. She went to Lincoln, I think. She didn’t go to Commerce High School. So we kind of lost track. It was the old rivalry between Failing and Shattuck. It was the same way with Commerce High and Lincoln High, because those were the two big high schools on the west side. So if kids didn’t go to Commerce High, they went to Lincoln High, so they could go to college. Not too many fellows I knew in those days went on to college. The Rosenberg boys did, but not too many of them. They went into businesses of some kind or another. 

Mona, of course, always had a beautiful voice. I remember her singing as the Paramount Theatre and winning a little bit of acclaim there – singing with the organist. I think the Berg family at that time moved out of town and moved to California, to Los Angeles. I never saw much of Mona after that. I remember her coming back to Portland, although her brother Jimmy still lived here. He had married Annie Rosenfeld. The next thing I knew, Minnie had done a little bit of theatrical work and changed her name to Mona Paulee. The next thing I knew, she had won the contest that the Sherwin and Williams paint Co. sponsored. Everybody in Portland was thrilled and everybody acknowledged knowing Minnie Berg. I don’t know how far she got with the opera. I don’t think she made it too big with the opera, but the next thing I knew, she was about the second lead in “Happy Fellow.” 

When I got to New York, someone said, “Why don’t you call Minnie? She will be glad to see you.” My sister had written me and told me that she went to see “Happy Fellow,” and that it was great and stuff like that. So, I thought, when I got to New York, I am going to call Minnie. So I called her and she was very pleased to hear. I told her that I would love to see her, and my sister would too. I was going to entertain some women at the Essex House for lunch, and I would be delighted if she could join us. Minnie did come, and we just had a beautiful visit. Of course, my sister was just like a star struck kid, that she was having lunch with a celebrity in New York, you know. We had a delightful afternoon and I ran up such a horrible tab at the Essex House that I was afraid, but one of the women’s husbands came and he picked up the tab. So I relaxed, and we had a delightful visit. It was just around Thanksgiving time, so Minnie said she was having a few people in for dinner. She would love to have me. My sister said that she and my brother-in-law were invited out for Thanksgiving dinner, and they wanted to bring me along as a guest, but my sister thought it would be far more fun to go over to Mona Paulee’s studio apartment and meet all these celebrities. So, I said, yes, I would come. 

She had a beautiful studio apartment right near Carnegie Hall. It was a huge room with a baby grand piano; that was her sleeping quarters. I think Minnie was not married then, or she was between husbands. She was alone. I came there and the guests started coming and she started introducing me. They were people from the technical end of the business rather than the stars. There was the choreographer, the technicians, and the stagehands. I remember meeting the President of the Philippines; his daughter was in that production. I think there were some 20-odd people. The table was set beautifully. They came and they were all grouped together talking. I really felt like a third leg because their interests were not my interests. I was sure if I had something to say about Portland, they would just look at me. I sat back and I felt very uncomfortable. It came time to seat the guests for dinner and possibly Mona forgot about me, certainly not intentionally, and she was saying, ‘You sit there, and you sit there…” I was waiting to be seated and I was the last one, and I felt all eyes were on me, and they really weren’t. 

At that time I knew I just really wasn’t going to enjoy myself the rest of that evening. So I very, very coolly said, “Mona, I can’t stay for dinner, because I have to join my sister.” She was so sorry and I took my leave. I got out and I hailed a cab to get back to my sister’s apartment. Of course, they had gone to dinner, and I was relieved to get out of there. My sister was very surprised to see me back in the apartment and I explained to her. She was very angry at Mona, and I said, “No, I can see, so much has gone under the bridge.” I really didn’t have too much in common. 

I never saw Mona after that until she came to Portland years later and had a concert. I don’t know who sponsored the concert. Maybe the B’nai B’rith sponsored the concert, but it was at the auditorium. It wasn’t a huge turnout, but all her local friends turned out. They were all very glad to hear her and she was very gracious. The next time I saw Mona, when she came to town and Goldie Jacobson (who was Annie’s sister) had a brunch. She had Mona over and she had me over and a few girls, and we had a delightful visit. At one time I heard she was running a Laundromat in Los Angeles, which was a far cry from the stage. At the time that she was here in Portland visiting the last time, she was giving music lessons, singing lessons. We had a nice time reminiscing. That was the end of Mona Paulee. That was the only girl that I can say made it theatrically or in a career. The rest of the girls worked until they got married.

Tanzer: And if they didn’t get married, they continued to work?
BLUMENTHAL: They continued to work. Sally Enkelis became Sally Newman, and of course she was married. Lottie was married. The only girls who didn’t get married were my friends the Kobin girls. Lillian rose up the rank at Meier & Frank: first she was the superintendent’s secretary, then she became the manager’s secretary, then she was Aaron Frank’s secretary until he left the firm, and then she retired. Claire worked at Meier & Frank as a cosmetics sales girl, and I told you about me. Those are the girls I have kept in close contact. Then later I became friendly with Toby Rosen. But Toby never was of that group, anymore than Rose Bachman, because she was a little bit older. That was my girlhood, growing up in South Portland down on Sixth Street.

Tanzer:  When you look back today, and see how the area has changed, do you think things could have been different if it hadn’t changed?
BLUMENTHAL: Shirley, a gentleman friend of mine made the statement that is so true, it has gotten a lot of chuckles. He said, “All my life, I lived in South Portland and I wanted to get out of it, and here I am living at the Portland Center which is right in the heart of South Portland.” I love South Portland. I wouldn’t have wanted it to change. It bred an awful lot of wonderful, wonderful people. If it changed, it would have an influx of a lot of strangers because a lot of people left the area. It became a little bit blighted, you know, as people progressed and became a little more affluent, but I wouldn’t have wanted it to change. I loved it the way it was.

Tanzer: What about the hard times there?
BLUMENTHAL: Well, as I said, everybody was in the same boat, Shirley. This was a way of life. What hard times? We always ate well, there was never any money for frivolities, but I had skates, and I thought that was just great, you know. I never drove a car. The only one that drove a car was Rose Spivak and she had the first fur coat of any girl I knew, the first polo coat. That was a big deal, but nobody was terribly envious of what somebody else had. It was just different thinking. I don’t think it was hard times. Maybe my father had a hard time making ends meet or making payments, but somehow or other we got by.

Tanzer: As you look back at your own life, Mollie, would you have done anything different?
BLUMENTHAL: Oh yes, I had certain aspirations, but I had nothing to back it up with. Believe it or not, I don’t know if you ever knew Lucille Grand. I forgot about Ceil and I. Ceil was my very dearest friend, and we went all through grammar school together. She was half a term ahead of me in high school, so that makes her older than I was. I think there was about two weeks difference in age. I was two weeks younger than she was. But she became a little bit more mature than I was and she ran around in a different crowd. She had an awfully good singing voice, and I had a good singing voice. We would sing at the auditorium in grammar school, like lullabies and stuff like that. Ceil was great and I followed along. I always wanted to be another Hildegarde. I thought that would be neat, if I could get a job in a nightclub with the mic in front of me, going around to all the tables. Really belting out a song – a Blues singer. But I can’t carry a tune now. That’s, I think, because of too many cigarettes in my days. But I had a fairly good voice. That was my aspiration, but never, of course, realized it. 

As I said before, Shirley, I was happy. I was not discontent, because I had a very, very warm home life and I had a very good association. You know my father died in 1940. My father was a very wonderful man, but a very stern man, no sense of humor at all. My mother was just the opposite; she was a fun girl. She liked an off-color story and we had a great rapport. She always called me Angel, and I never left that house and never got in that house but that we didn’t kiss. And the same thing applied to my brothers. They did, too. They did, too, because they adored her. To me, it was always a happy home. I went to work. I had to contribute in the house, but I thought that that’s the way it should be. It was none of this, “You can live here for nothing.” I had to contribute; it was an obligation.

Tanzer: Was she concerned in the traditional sense that you didn’t get married?
BLUMENTHAL: Yes, very much so, but never told it to me. She never wanted me to feel that I was out of the mainstream of life. She used to say that before her eyes closed, that she would like to see me settled, always. 

Tanzer:  Settling meant marriage?
BLUMEUTHAL: Marriage, so she could see that with her own eyes, with the thought in mind, that when she is gone I wouldn’t be alone. And of course I was with my mother until she died. She died in that house that we lived in on Sixth Street. When she left me, I was out of there in two weeks. I wouldn’t stay there. That was the only thing that she didn’t have fulfillment, but I never felt bad about it. I would have liked to have more dates than I did, because I love to go. The dates I had primarily were dates with fellows from out of town that I would meet through my brother Nate, because the contact then was not the Neighborhood House dances anymore, where girls could go up together and meet the fellows and dance with them. There was no contact, and somewhere along the way I missed the boat and just never married. Then I rationalized with myself and I said there must be an awful lot of things in life without being married. To be very truthful, Shirley, some of the girls I see from the ones I went to school with that got married they look like old, old women. Their outlooks have not been sharp, they have not been as aware. I am only talking about the girls that I knew. So, you know, comme ci, comme ça.

Tanzer: What is your life like now in terms of your social life, your activities?
BLUMENTHAL: Let me say, monetarily, it has been fantastic to think that I have been able to accomplish what I have done on my own, because I couldn’t get any help from my family. So whatever I have acquired, I have acquired on my own. I have listened to people for investments. I have invested wisely. I saved with US Savings Bonds when Pearl Harbor was bombed, so I have that nest egg. I always had a wonderful job, as I said, when I went to work for Arthur Eppstein. I meant to say that when I went to work for Arthur Eppstein and I also worked for Milton Kahn and he was involved with the American Council for Judaism, which just really rattled me… I will say this for Milton Kahn, he was very instrumental in realizing the building of the new Robison Home. Milton Kahn was taking over that and he solicited the German Jews and got plenty of money of them, which ordinarily nobody else could have done. So, in due deference to Milton Kahn, he did do that. That was great and he donated the Germaine Kahn Chapel. But from the time I went to work for Arthur Eppstein, my life had changed, because I went along with his prosperity… Because when I came there: six girls, three men. When I left Oregon Auto, 400 people were working there. As they progressed, I progressed. So, financially it’s been just great for me.

Tanzer: So you are very comfortable?
BLUMENTHAL:  I am very comfortable. My retirement has just been great, because I have no economic worries. My social life is just great. I have time for my girlfriends, my lady friends. I have time for my mother’s older friends that are still living, if I can do for them, and I have a lovely social life. I have male friendship, too, which is very important. So if it had to come, it’s awfully good it came at this stage, rather than when I was younger and then everything blow up. I can say now I have got the best of everything. I am sure a lot of people [have it] a lot better, but I don’t know.

Tanzer: What do you look forward to, Mollie?
BLUMENTHAL: Just a long life. Health. That’s all. Well, the sadness I have had in my life is the deaths, you know, and as you can see, I can get pretty weepy about my mother – 22 years. She was a very, very important woman in my life. My father was, too, but not like my mother. Maybe this is typical. I don’t know. I lost two brothers from my father’s side, but I was never terribly close to them. I felt it because they were my father’s sons. I lost an older brother here, my mother’s older sons. But I was never too close to him as am to my remaining brothers, possibly because he intermarried. But all my brothers did that. That wasn’t it… I just wasn’t too close to my brother. Outside of that, all my other brothers are alive, and [I] am very happy with them, [and] they are very happy with me. We have a very nice relationship. All I am looking forward to is a long healthy good life, to do good for others and those who have been good to me.

Tanzer: Your mother would be very proud of you. I do want to ask you one additional question. Were most of your friends Jewish?
BLUMENTHAL: In those days, yes, but not now.

Tanzer: Why was your life in those days limited?
BLUMENTHAL: It wasn’t limited. It was the people around me, it was the neighborhood I lived in. You felt like you almost had to have a passport to go out of the area. It was bounded by the Neighborhood House, Second and Porter, down to our place, down to Lincoln, Grand, College – that was our sphere of living. Occasionally, I would go on the East side. Well, that was a journey. At grammar school, at Failing, I remember a few of my little Italian friends I still see. I wasn’t friendly with them, but now I have a lot of non-Jewish friends that I am so close to, and that I like so much, and that I have an awful lot in common them. I found that out when I went to work with Aetna. In a very small office, I met these two or three girls. I haven’t been with the others since 1942, but we still contact one another. We still have lunch together. You can’t be friendly with everybody in a big office, but there are a few girls at the Oregon Auto that I’ll be friendly with the rest of my life. Those are friends, and then the social friends that I have made, non-Jewish, great. I have never been anti, of course, some of my best friends are.