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THE
PASSING
OF THE
“MEV1N”
by GIDEON CHAGY
The author writes these reminiscences from first
hand observation of the Cantorial art both as a choir
boy and as the son of one of the stars in the "Golden
Age of Hazzannut” Berele Chagy. This material is
reprinted from “The Cantors Voice." published by
the Cantors Assembly of America.
The past month I had a flicker
ing of fellow feeling for West
brook Pegler. So many glories
have proved transitory for Pegler
and now even his beloved base
ball has betrayed its ordained role
in America's destiny. Baseball, he
laments, is no longer what it used
to be; the landmarks of baseball’s
golden age are rapidly falling be
fore the juggernaut of finance-
capital.
Sic transit glora mundi—I grieve
with Pegler. I, too, am the sad
survivor of a golden age. Mine
passed almost unlame.nted in the
early thirties. If there was a dirge
it was in a minor key, and who
would have stopped to listen
amidst all the wailing of the de
pression? During its heyday it had
no Pegler to celebrate its glories
from the press box. On Rivington
Street, on Avenue A, in little
Pinsk or little Lodz or little Kovno
in New York, Boston or Newark,
we had an oral tradition, and the
legends of our living heroes were
recited on the steps of the shul
at “lehnen tseit," around the gram
ophone (this was the bronze age
of radio), or in the local butcher
shop. The “big league’’ was the
synagogue circuit and the stars
were affectionately known as
Moishele, Berele, Yossele, Dovidel
or Shmulke der gclder.
It was the golden age of hazza-
nut and the great cantors were
ranged pridefully along with
Dempsey, Ruth. Tilden and Wills
—as genuine folk heroes. Even the
goyim respectfully acknowledged
their greatness and it was not un
usual for the governor of a sou
thern state to bestow the honorary
rank of colortel upon the hazzan
who “donated a shabbes” to his
coreligionists in the local peniten
tiary. Many times on my own
block I would see Officer O'B:
gently press back the admirn. ,
throng as our cantor prepared to
enter the shul with “Please let
his reverence pass,” “Please don't
crowd his eminence.” And hardly
a week went by without a full
page advertisement in the daily
papers showing, in line diawing,
one of the great cantors emerging
from a Victrola on wings of song
Columbia and Victor vied with
each other in issuing new hit ver
sions of ancient prayers. Albums
sold in the hundreds of thousands
and the "ineshulocliini" who can
vassed our neighborhood for the
yeshivot rated a “gramophone
hazzan” with Warburg or the
bankers Kuhn-Loeb.
The cantors may not have been
as rich as reputed, but they dress
ed like barons and lived with an
open hand Whose chest did not
swell with pride when his cantor,
accompanied by a retinue of choir
boys, aspirant hazzanim, afficion-
ados, the shammes and a member
or two from the Board of Directors,
moved in state toward the shul?
On our block we were blessed with
three cantors—all of “star” status
—who gave our neighborhood un
usual prestige as a- “balabatishe”
residential center. On Saturday
morning, we would watch our can
tors leave their homes at precise
ly the same time, converse briefly
at the corner and then part, each
in different directions to his own
shul. If it were spring, the cantor
wore striped trousers, spats, a cut
away with silk piping and a
"tsilinder." In winter he wore a
beaver-lined black coat with a
great beaver collar—not' different
from the coat worn by David War-
The Southern Israelite
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