George Theodore Rosenstein

Daughter Judy says "George was born in Omaha, Neb on April 10, 1910. They were so poor that for a few years George lived with a local priest and served as an alterboy! He and his parents and younger brother moved to NJ where his parents ran a Deli at Journal Sq in Jersey City. He was driving a horse-drawn milk truck when he met Toddy through Norman J, with whom he attended law school, alos in Jersey City. They were married on July 14, 1935."

John Marshall Law School was located in Journal Square, Jersey City. When law schools were accredited it turned over its operation and records to Seton Hall. I was able to find references in yearbooks for Norman through the help of a Seton Hall librarian. George dropped out to marry Toddy. He never got his degree. But made more money selling things. John Marshall turned its assets over to Seton Hall in ____

From Norman's Letter:
"I borrowed the tuition from Tiana and enrolled in the John Marshall College of Law, on the second floor of an office building on Journal Square in Jersey City.

I got a job with Bob Brenner, of Ziegener & Brenner, lawyers, at 75 Montgomery Street in Jersey City. Bob was the older brother of Lou Brenner, also a lawyer, who is married to my sister Ruth,. August Ziegener, distinguished looking, grey-haired, with piercing grey eyes, was that rarity in Frank Hague's all-Democrat bailiwick, a Republican with a job as Judge. My salary was $5 „ a week. Cash. (It grew to $15. a week soon after - the highest-paid law clerk in the County.)

By day I researched law, worked on briefs, and expedited girdle repairs. By night I shone in class, because I often had only recently been researching the very points our professors were trying to drum into our skulls., And I had to be right, for I was doing it for real.
One early triumph I'll never forget: In a class on wills and estates, the case under discussion involved a promise by the deceased testator. The testimony by the claimant was strong and involved a number of transactions he had had with the dead man. The law in the case was duly expounded by the Judge, and after we had finished discussing that, the Prof asked, "Can anyone tell me what's wrong with this case?"
Up popped my hand. "Section Four of the Evidence Act!" I shouted.
"Right!" said the Prof. "Iell us why, Jacobowitz," So I did: Unless the estate had previously opened the door by testimony as to what had transpired between decedent and this claimant, the claimant was barred from testifying about the conversations. In the absence of the dead man, it was hearsay.
Hearsay also arises when someone testifies as to what he was told (by one of the participants in a conversation or happening) occurred at that conversation or happening. His story is second hand., "Were you there?" "No." Hearsay.. Inadmissible.
We all know how a story changes, gets embellished, when it is passed from mouth to ear. It never, repeat, never, comes out the same at the end. Even those with the best intentions make alterations. This danger to truth was graphically impressed on us in our first session in Evidence, It's probably a standard procedure in every Evidence class in the country.
The Prof is lecturing. Suddenly the door bangs open. A man enters, rushes over to one of the students, gestures at him, shouts some words at him, commotion ensues, and the man runs out. After the class has quieted down, the Prof starts questioning each one of us in turn: what happened?
There was one man; there were two men. He had a gun; he flashed a knife.. He threatened the student; he hit the student. He was short and slender; he was tall and slender - (slender he probably was.)
And so on. There were almost as many versions as there were students.
And then the Prof explained. The invading student (Pat Kiley, it was} came in and took his seat., We all looked sheepish. "Let that be a profound lesson to you," said the Prof. "If eyewitness testimony is this unreliable, think how completely untrustworthy hearsay evidence must be."
Norman B Jacobowit, Letter to My Grandsons, Page 42