In Memorium
Alvin Klugman
October 10, 1922 - October 2,
2006
To the man who pleases God, God has given the wisdom and knowledge to enjoy himself. (Kohelet 2:26)
By Rabbi Alan Henkin, October 8, 2006
We Jews have an old belief: only the most righteous people die on Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur is our Day of Atonement, the day on which we Jews ask God to forgive our sins. We ordinary people need Yom Kippur because of all our sins. But the righteous person has only a few sins. Therefore the righteous has no need of Yom Kippur. That is the reason that only righteous die on Yom Kippur.
On Yom Kippur, last week, Alvin Klugman died. Alvin was a giant in the deaf Jewish community, but more importantly he was a giant to his family - to Marge, Peggy and John and his grandchildren Bryan and Paul. We all mourn Alvin's passing, but his family mourns him most. To Marge, Peggy and John and the boys, we send our most sincere condolences. We thank you for sharing Alvin with us, for letting us too enjoy his wisdom, his strength and his gentle good humor.
Alvin Klugman z.l.
Our God and God of our ancestors, we ask for Your comfort and consolation. O God, dry the tears of Marge and Peggy, John and their boys. Give them strength to endure this terrible loss, and give us all the might to bear this burden. Support us, O God, when we falter, and guide us when we lose our direction. Praised are You, Eternal One, You allow the dead to live on in our lives and in our deeds.
Today is the second day of the holiday of Sukkot on the Jewish calendar. One of our Sukkot traditions is to read an unusual book of the Bible, Kohelet. In Kohelet we find this sentence: Dor holech v'dor ba va'ha'aretz l'olam omedet - One generation goes, and another comes, but the earth remains the same. (Kohelet 1:4)
True, Alvin Klugman has now gone, and other deaf Jews will become new leaders - but the earth is not the same after Alvin Klugman. Alvin Klugman changed the world, especially the world of deaf Jews. He and his beloved Marge worked hard to organize the Jewish deaf communities and to build the institutions of the deaf Jewish world, like Temple Beth Solomon of the Deaf and the National Conference of Jewish Deaf.
Alvin Klugman hired me as TBS' rabbi back in June 1980, 26 years ago. I remember that interview well because it was the first time that I had really had a conversation with a deaf person. Jean Greenberg interpreted, and I was surprised how open Alvin was about his deafness. He said to me, "I remember sounds." That shocked me. He continued, "I lost my hearing through an illness and a surgery, but today they would treat it differently." That was vintage Alvin - straight, honest, smart, self-deprecating. Still, I knew that I was sitting with a most intriguing man.
In Yiddish there is a funny phrase, schulmentsch. A schulmentsch is a kind and decent person dedicated to synagogue life. Alvin Klugman was a schulmentsch, kind, decent and dedicated to Temple Beth Solomon of the Deaf. He was a humble man, modest, sometimes even shy. Rabbi Solomon Kleinman remembered Alvin as a quiet, hardworking man.
Alvin wrote a letter in which he talked about growing up Jewish, "In 1935, when I was 13, there were no religious schools for the deaf, so my father and grandfather, an Orthodox rabbi, prepared me for my bar mitzvah. They taught me to read and speak Hebrew and I did very well during the ceremony at an Orthodox synagogue attended by all men only."
He continued, "What I like best about being Jewish is that we Jews are proud descendants of a long tradition that survived other denominations that now have perished. We remain despite all sufferings, persecution, defamation and the recent Holocaust. We have another tradition of education, helping others and our great Jewish leadership"
Alvin concluded, "What we do not like and wish would end, is anti-Semitism and hate that permeates throughout our world today."
Alvin was a man of truth, honesty and peace. He taught us these values by his example. He loved peace and he disliked conflict. With love, kind words and compassion, he led Beth Solomon as president and board member. His sincerity, integrity and humility inspired us all, and made everyone who met Alvin like him immediately. Although he worked hard for Temple Beth Solomon and the deaf community, he never neglected his family and friends.
Alvin Klugman did much good for many people while he was alive. He touched our hearts and moved our souls, and we are better people because we knew Alvin Klugman. To Marge and Peggy, to John, Bryan and Paul we extend our sincerest condolences. We hope that you find comfort in all the wonderful deeds that Alvin did while alive, deeds that will live on long after him and long after all of us here are gone.
May we all strive to live our lives in accordance with the values and the principles that Alvin embodied, and may the memory of this righteous man a loving blessing for us all.
By Bess Hyman
In the fall of 1974, I lost my hearing completely. My hearing synagogue tried to accommodate me with a front row seat but to no avail; I was not able to follow the service. A co-worker of mine who knew Rose Zucker told me about a temple for the deaf. Rose told me to come, and sit in the front row. I liked what I saw but realized I would have to learn a new language. (As you all know, 32 years later, I am still learning.)
After that service, eating all the wonderful food that the Sisterhood made, (especially Tillie Hettler's renowned sponge cake) I approached TBS president, Alvin Klugman. "I like your temple," I mouthed to him. "I would like to join." Alvin smiled his famous benevolent smile and mouthed back to me, "Are you Jewish?" The next year I became the TBS treasurer, offering my best skills in exchange for being allowed to worship and socialize with this wonderful group of people. Working side by side with Alvin, I credit him for bringing out my zest for writing; he put me on the newsletter staff. He got me involved in The National Congress of Jewish Deaf, NCJD (now Jewish Deaf Congress, JDC) where I edited their newsletter while he was their president from 1975-79.
I will be forever indebted to Alvin for my introduction into the deaf world and for his unconditional acceptance and help for my becoming a member of the deaf community.
Alvin was often introduced as "Mr. Temple Beth Solomon", But founding member, Alvin Klugman, with tongue in cheek, always humbly replied, "That's not my real name." But in truth, that title fit Alvin perfectly. No other member of Temple Beth Solomon has worked so long and so tirelessly for the welfare of our Temple and for deaf Jews everywhere.
With a strong Jewish background, Alvin, with Marge by his side, became a major mover and shaker, molding the Jewish Deaf community of Los Angeles and helping establish a synagogue of their own: Temple Beth Solomon of the Deaf. From its very inception, Marge and Alvin have truly been TBS' greatest asset. At a roast honoring Alvin and Marge in January of 1989, Rabbi Alan wrote: "...In many ways the careers of Alvin and Marge parallel that of Moses. Like Moses, Alvin and Marge have provided strong and loving leadership for a community long neglected and oppressed. Since the formation of our Temple, Alvin and Marge have gently guided the deaf Jewish community towards independence, interdependence and Jewish empowerment...."
Judaism and deafness came together in 1960 when the first meeting of Temple Beth Solomon was held in the Chadwick Chapel of Temple Israel in Hollywood. Alvin was there to see the beginning of his dream of a Deaf synagogue become a reality. A year later the temple newsletter, The Congregation News published its first issue. (Postage was 3 cents!) Alvin along with Marge, were the first editors. By 1966, TBS had raised enough money to purchase the property in Arleta. Alvin was president-elect and his dream started growing roots. In 1970 Alvin was able to write in his newsletter column: "This New Year, 1970, is of significant importance to our Temple for it commemorates our tenth year of existence and the fact that during the past ten years we have purchased our own synagogue building, paid off the initial debt in three years and have remodeled and repainted and repaired our building and created a Mortgage Burning Fund which now continues to pay off our second debt. We have maintained our student Rabbi and Sunday school teachers, held High Holy Day services, Passover seders, Friday night services, Purim Carnivals and many other fundraising activities. This goes to prove that when we get together, things CAN be done without a doubt."
Alvin had been the historian of TBS for the last 40 years, as Marge can attest to the many boxes of files stacked in their garage. He was the go-to guy for any bit of information about past events, honorings, members, past rabbis, student rabbis and the dates of their tenure. Anyone wanting to know anything about TBS was referred to Alvin. He knew the history as well as any mother knows the detailed history of her child.
In 1976 Alvin and Marge were awarded the California State University, Northridge's Distinguished Service award in recognition of their dedicated and tireless service to the Deaf community. In the same year, TBS formed the NCJD Convention Committee and selected Alvin to chair the two-year committee. The 1978 Convention, hosted by TBS, turned out to be the most successful convention in NCJD history.
Alvin served as President of TBS from 1967-1975 and then again from 1979-1985; a 14 year tenure. In total, he served an astounding 35 years in various positions on the Board of Directors. He earned the TBS Hersh Man of the Year Award 5 times. In 1978 Alvin was elected president of the NCJD and served for four years. Because of Alvin's extensive background in the printing trade, he oversaw the layout and printing of the temple newsletter for 28 years. He was inducted into the NCJD/JDC Hall of Fame and received the prestigious NCJD Plapinger award.
These are only a small accounting of the creations of Alvin Klugman. Tributes and awards are simply a punctuation after an accomplishment. Awards do not tell the story of the formation of an organization or the effects that came after. Awards and recognition are only the acknowledgment of the work done; unknown are the birth of the ideas and the hours, months and years of bringing those ideas into existence. Missing from the story is the feeling of inspiration and pride as you see your work continue like falling dominoes into the future. We could easily establish a Klugman Library, to record the day-by-day history of the founding and organizing of deaf Jewish life in Southern California, which would be a perfect tribute for an historian such as Alvin. But all we can give you here is a taste of the love, dedication and work from Alvin Klugman's heart and hands. They have touched many and have created a continuing living legacy of which we are all so very proud. His memory will be a sweet blessing
By Peggy Cronin
My dad was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota on October 10, 1922 to Morris and Yetta Klugman. He was the oldest (and only son) of four siblings.
All four siblings, my dad, and my aunts: Doris, Helen and Faye, were all very close and watched out for each other (and each others' families) all their lives.
My dad exhibited a "take charge" attitude at a very early age. My grandmother loved to tell a story about when my dad was about 4 or 5 years old. The family lived in Milbank, South Dakota at the time. My dad had wandered away from home and into town. My grandmother gave chase and when she finally caught up with him, he looked at her, stamped his foot, and told her to "beat it!"
My dad became deaf around the age of 6 as the result of complications from a mastoid infection. Around that time, the family moved back to Minneapolis, where my dad attended an oral school. At age 12, he entered the Minnesota School for the Deaf, a residential school in Faribault, which is now known as the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf.
My dad was an outstanding student at MSD and also excelled in sports, lettering in football, basketball, and track and field. He loved to tell us stories about his football playing days, a time when there was a lot less padding and everyone played both sides of the line-offense and defense. My younger son, Bryan, a football player himself, also enjoyed those stories and would sometimes even share them with his football coach. My dad's letterman's sweater was a prized possession (and, as I recall, was what he wore on one of his first dates with my mom that really impressed her).
Also, at MSD my dad learned the print trade, which he excelled in and became his lifetime profession. Many of you may not know this, but he also took up tailoring at MSD and was quite proficient with a needle and thread (he was always the one to go to when a button fell off something. Once he sewed it back on, it never fell off again!).
My dad graduated from MSD in 1942. Several years ago he was inducted into their alumni Hall of Fame for his service to the deaf community.
In 1944, my dad and his family moved from Minneapolis to Los Angeles. They eventually settled in a house on Colgate Avenue in the Crescent Heights area.
After his arrival in Los Angeles, my dad became very active in the deaf community, including participating on the Hollywood Club basketball teams, the Unison Club (a group for oral deaf adults) and the Hebrew Association of the Deaf. In 1948, he met my mom and married her later that year, on December 19. The wedding was at my grandparents' home on Colgate Avenue.
In 1949, my dad started his own business, Standard Linotyping Service, which he owned for 22 years. I don't remember much about the place, other than the linotype machines were very large and noisy and the shop was always very dirty from all the ink and not much fun for a kid to hang around in, except for the refrigerator in the back, which my grandfather would usually stock with sodas.
In 1955, my parents bought their house on Oakhurst Avenue in West Los Angeles. They were very proud of that house and have many happy memories there. I think my dad's favorite room in that house was the rumpus room out behind the garage. It was there that my dad had his "home office" before that ever became a buzzword. He had all the latest "high tech" equipment in there: large desk, typewriter, adding machine, mimeograph and a very primitive copy machine that would dim all the lights in the house whenever he used it. When I was growing up, I remember my dad spending many evenings in the rumpus room working on Temple business and other things. I also remember our method of calling him back to the house when he was out in the rumpus room - flashing the back porch light until we got his attention (and sometimes that took a while!).
Most people would probably agree that Temple Beth Solomon is my dad's legacy. However, from a personal perspective, his biggest legacy to me was that he taught me to be honest, ethical, and strong. I could probably go on and on with stories about my dad and his accomplishments, but I don't think anyone's attention span is quite that long, nor do I have the stamina to do it. However, I can sum up what my dad meant to me in just a few words: He was a great dad and always the voice of reason and common sense and my biggest fan. I love you Dad and I'll miss you Dad. May God bless you.
My name is Bryan Cronin. Alvin Klugman was my grandfather and what I liked about him was that he was a kind and humorous person. He always liked to hear about my football and baseball games and see the pictures and videos. He didn't go to many of my games in person because I live in San Diego, but I guess now he can look down and watch all he wants.
I always liked to talk with my grandpa about sports and he used to tell me stories about when he played sports and showed me pictures of his high school football team. Until a few years ago, he would get into a blocking stance and have me try to tackle him. That was always fun.
I always knew grandpa was a leader, but didn't know until now all of the things he did for the deaf community. I am amazed by the obstacles he knocked down like being deaf and made the best of it and tried to help others. I am proud to be his grandson. Thank you.