Anna (Chanya) Kantorowitz

In the early afternoon of July 5, 1906, the Cunard White Star passenger liner Caronia tied up at Ellis Island's single quay. Earlier that day its first, second, and third class passengers debarked at the Cunard pier on Manhattan Island. What remained on board were the below-deck steerage passengers without staterooms. Here were the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to be free, the wretched refuse of (Europe's) teeming shore. Lost in the polyglot crowd was Chayna Kantorwitz [MJA: note the different spelling of Kantorwitz] Brodkin of Starobin, Russia and her three small children -- Hershele Andreyev, 5, Ida, 4, and toddler George. After the routine immigration processing, Chanya was transformed into an anglicized Anna and Hershele Anderyev became officially Henry Andrew. He was even given a new arbitrarily selected birthdate by the immigration functionaries of February 15, 1901... remarkable because none of the family could understand a word of English.

Bubbie (Chanya) was a small thin woman, unlettered and unsophisticated, but by default was nevertheless dowager empress of the third floor. In winter she maintained one or two jars of pickled herring outside the kitchen window on the roof, convinced in her dementia that men would gladly desert their wives for some of that herring. The only other dish that deserved such status was her gefIlte fish, which she made from scratch every Passover. Three or four days prior, she'd bring home a huge carp wrapped in newspaper from the fish store on Bergen Street. As she ran the three blocks to Osborne Terrace with it cradled tightly in both arms, that fish looked as big as she was. Up three stories and into the bathtub it went, almost camouflaged against the pale pastel-green ceramic. If no one were looking, I'd sneak in there and prod it with a broom handle. One day the tormented carp reacted with a giant leap - not high enough to clear the tub, but sufficiently impressive that I would never return as long as he was in that tub! In her later years Bubbie became very disoriented and moved to Aunt Ida's and later on to Aunt Florence's. Sadly, in the end she had to go to a nursing home where she eventually died.

Source: Richard Brodkin's Recollections typed by Michael James Arrison 11/11/2008