Humans of the Heights: A Conversation with Judith Levi
In the third installment of my series sharing the stories of the people of the Heights, I had the pleasure of sitting down with Judith Levi.
Mrs. Levi is a remarkable individual who has witnessed the upheaval of the Second World War and the changing landscape of Washington Heights throughout her many years living there. Through all this, she has displayed an impressive and resolute faith.
This is her story:
Avraham Frohlich: Let’s start with your background. Where did you grow up?
Judith Levi: I was born in 1937, before the Second World War, in Basel, Switzerland. My parents were both from Frankfurt, Germany, met there and moved to Switzerland. They got married in Basel in 1935 with nobody in attendance, not even their parents, because the Germans didn’t allow anyone to travel. At that time, they were not allowed to go back to Germany. Sometime in the early ‘30s, all passports of German Jews had a very large J stamped on them.
My father worked in a textile firm in Switzerland, so he had a job, but they didn’t have any family living there. It was very hard for them. And, to this day, I am not considered Swiss because, at the time, we were all labeled “Stateless.”
AF: How was your family’s experience living as Jews in Germany?
JL: Both my parents’ families went through Kristallnacht. They threw my grandfather’s sefer Torah out a window, and he told his wife, “Pack a bag. We’re leaving tomorrow.” My father’s parents had a son at that time in Amsterdam who said, “Mom, Dad, come to us. It’ll be safe.” Well, Sobibor was not safe, you know. They were one of the last transports there in 1942.
My husband, Raphael Levi, was in Manheim, Germany, during Kristallnacht, only 11 years old. That night, he picked up marble shards from the bimah of the shul. He took the shards with him, and we still have them today. Later, he was put on a Kindertransport to Shefford, England. His parents put their son on a train, not knowing whether they would see him again.
AF: Do you have any memories of the war from that time?
JL: I think there was one bombing, but in general, we lived a peaceful life. I remember we used to hear the planes. We used to have to close the shades at night so that the airplanes flying into Germany wouldn’t know that we were under there. I remember the bells ringing all day, the day the war was over.
Basel was a border town, and during the war, I remember people coming to our house; there were loads of guests. Loads of guests, meaning people who escaped, who walked over the mountains. I was the only child around and was always listening to them talk. They told their experiences, how they walked over the mountains and through the farms.
AF: Who were the people who came from the mountains?
JL: People who had escaped from a camp or a death march.
I distinctly remember one man coming on a Shabbos morning. He didn’t have proper clothes. He was lucky he had anything. He must have got those off dead people, probably found a pile and took a coat. He was coming from a camp, probably Saint-Cyprien, in France.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw him. He was a very tall, nice-looking man with a white beard. When he came into the shul, he smelled. He had walked through the farmland to get into Basel, and his shoes had been in stuff from the animals on the farm. I will never forget that.
People would walk over, in rain, in snow, in ice, and in the summer when it was warm, crossing the Pyrenees and some of the Alps into Switzerland. People took them in and found them a bed and a home. Many came alone. Maybe one or two of them at a time, but no more.
AF: When was the first time you became aware of the Holocaust?
JL: Oh, I knew there was something going on right away. I must have been three. My parents were making food packages, and what did I hear? They’re making food packages for people in the camps. That was the word. Camps. They put together sardines and other stuff you could pack, and they sent packages to the camps. Some people got them.
AF: What did you know about your extended family in Europe during the war?
JL: We hardly knew anything. Later, when we got a television, my father would watch, hoping he would see his family in the newsreels. There was no proper radio, no telephone, and all of that came afterward. We communicated mostly by mail. Postcards. I have a stack of postcards from the camps. From one of the death camps. My uncle sent them to me, his little niece, from what would become Sobibor. That uncle and aunt were taken from Amsterdam and murdered in the spring of 1942. It was all trains. Those horrible trains.
AF: What was written on those postcards?
JL: Mine had cute little things on it, like a dog. A child’s postcard. An uncle trying to talk to his little niece. There were other letters sent that passed the censors; you can still see the censor’s stamp on them. In those, people wrote in code. My father got quite a few, and he and his friends were able to save some of the people who crossed the mountains.
AF: How did you make your way to the U.S.?
JL: We left Switzerland in 1946 in U.S. Army planes. My father wanted me to go to a Jewish school in America. The soldiers were wonderful. My brother and I were the only children on the plane, and I remember we got chewing gum, and I saw my first pineapple and my first orange. Europe was under very limited food supply at the time. And the soldiers were so cute to us and played with us on the plane. We came from Switzerland to Holland, from Holland to Iceland, Iceland to Newfoundland, and Newfoundland to New York, all by planes in almost a week.
We arrived at LaGuardia Airport on Aug. 22nd, 1946. That was such a miracle. We didn’t speak one word of English. The only words my mother taught me were, “Thank you.” My parents themselves hardly knew any English. Still, my father got a job within six weeks, and he built up a pretty decent business. Later, my father actually also did some business with the Shah in Iran.
A month after arriving, we moved to 180th St. and Broadway so I could go to Rav Breuer’s school. At that time, Broadway had a trolley.
AF: What was life like now that you were in America?
JL: There were many more people, and it was a completely different lifestyle. But I learned the language in three months and became an honors student. In seventh grade, Rav Breuer told my father I couldn’t stay there because I was in the boys’ class. I couldn’t learn Gemara, so I was marking the boys’ tests.
Soon, I transferred to Hunter High School and took the subway back and forth every day. I’m forever grateful for having gone there. Then, I went on to Hunter College, studied math and foreign languages and got married. After graduation, I worked for Bank Leumi and later on for YU.
My husband is ultimately responsible for ArtScroll. In 1962, Meir Zlotowitz showed up in our house, and he said to my husband Rav Feinstein needs a sefer, but with English, in order to send it out for the yeshiva. And it was Purim time, so he suggested Megillas Esther. And that was the first book that Mesorah did.
AF: What was life like in the Heights then?
JL: Most of the people in the apartment building were not Jewish. But everybody respected each other. It was very peaceful growing up here.
And there were about six or seven large shuls. Mostly, refugees from Germany. There used to be a thousand kids in the school on Bennett. Now, it’s shrinking because people need more space and are moving to Five Towns, Brooklyn, Passaic, or Teaneck. Those places were only names when we were children.
AF: What did you do for YU?
JL: What didn’t I do? I started out in student finance, and then I was in admissions. I had a wonderful relationship with faculty and students, and I’m still in touch with some of them. I do remember one day I got thrown out of Rubin because there was one young man who was really sick, and I brought him lunch. Oh, did I get thrown out…
AF: How has YU changed since you’ve lived here?
JL: When I moved here in the ‘40s, there was a lot of open area. I remember vividly going sled riding where the big school is now between 184th and 186th. I was there when Rubin and Morgenstern went up. The only one that was up when I was a child was the main building with the cupola. When I started working in YU, Furst Hall was brand new.
AF: Throughout your life, you have lived through and overcome difficult times. What’s your advice for someone else who’s going through a difficult time?
JL: Talk to G-d, HaKadosh Baruch Hu. In any language you want. I used to live in Bnei Brak by Rehov Rabbi Akiva for two years. One night, I stood in the corner by a lamppost. I will never forget it. And I davened in English because what I wanted to say I couldn’t say in Hebrew. I said, “HaKadosh Baruch Hu, you’re going to have to help me. I have unwavering faith.” When my son was born, he was born blind. And now he sees perfectly well. The eye doctor said it was a miracle. I’m a believer. And if it’s not good, which happens also, it has to be for whatever reason. And you learn to live.
Looking back, life could have been very different. But I accept life because I have faith in G-d.
AF: What’s one piece of advice you can give to YU students?
JL: Live in a Jewish community. In the Jewish community, you’re never alone. The community is always at your side.
AF: It was a pleasure talking to you. Thank you.
Photo Caption: Judith Levi
Photo Credit: Judith Levi
