This post is written by Museum intern Dina Posner.
After its opening in 1887, Eldridge Street Synagogue quickly became a vital center for Judaism and religious freedom on the Lower East Side. It was the first of its kind in the neighborhood – bigger and more established than most congregations at the time – and so it was often looked to in moments of controversy or community. Not only in religious matters, either the large sanctuary space was a prime location for pertinent community conversations and organizing of all kinds.
So perhaps it’s no surprise that 119 years ago today, the New York Times reported that Lower East Siders were crowding into the opulent sanctuary at 12 Eldridge Street to debate an ongoing neighborhood issue – vice. Certain city officials were pointing fingers at the Jewish population on the Lower East Side; these new immigrants were corrupt, (white) policemen and society leaders said. Something must be done. So 800 men assembled on April 22, 1900 to figure out what should be done. Not only, however, about the vice into the neighborhood. Rather, they were there to voice their concerns about the blamed parties. Was the neighborhood any more corrupt than others? And if it was, were Jews to blame?
An article from The American Hebrew describes the scene on that night: “The police were obliged to turn people away from the doors, for not only were all the seats taken but every inch of available space on floor and in gallery was packed. Possibly an attempt to leave before the close of the meeting might have been unsuccessful – certainly none were made.”
Not all attendees were Jewish. Reverend Robert L. Paddock, from a local Protestant Episcopal church, voiced his concerns that vice had become flagrant in the vicinity. Another speaker, professor Felix Adler, declared that a local police officer had told him that the Jews were responsible for the bad moral condition of the city. This proclamation was met with hisses and cries of anger from the crowd. Adler urged those in attendance to work to “remove this black spot from the Jewish name.” The crowd didn’t take issue with whether or not some bad behavior took place in the neighborhood. Rather, they resented that the blame had been placed at the foot of the entire Jewish race. But April 23rd’s community gathering showed that Lower East Side Jews were just as civil and civic-minded as any other New Yorker. In the words of the meeting’s leader, “the number here present is ample proof of the fact that you are alive to the importance of this question.”
The First Amendment of the United States Constitution established religious freedom, which allowed the immigrant congregants of Eldridge Street (and their many neighbors) to openly express their beliefs in their new American home. This was no doubt a meaningful right for the congregants, who sought that freedom after enduring religious persecution in Eastern Europe. It’s that same amendment that also established freedom of speech and the right to peaceably assemble. Members of Eldridge Street took pride in their identity as a distinctly American Jewish community, and did not shy away from their opportunity, nay right, to actively participate in community affairs. Of course, they weren’t unfamiliar with the idea of activism. Many Eastern European immigrants grew up with long traditions of protest and agitation in their own countries. They carried that legacy with them to their new home and it influenced the way they approached social issues in America. This meeting, 119 years ago, is proof that Jewish immigrants were stretching their wings, testing their new freedoms, growing into a distinctly unique group of new Americans.
At the end of the meeting on April 23rd, a ten-person committee was formed. They pledged to receive and document further complaints on this topic, and work toward solutions to solve the root cause. But as the 800-strong crowd shuffled out of the meeting that night, much more had been accomplished. They had exercised their hard-earned rights as new Americans and solidified their place as powerful members of an emerging community.
Despite the official freedom to practice any religion, this story is also an example of how Jews on the Lower East Side still faced religious discrimination. To that NYPD official and other finger-pointers, the Jewish population was the “other,” and therefore threatening to his understanding of his community. City officials and the city establishment were often quick to criticize neighborhoods like the Lower East Side that were thick with immigrant cultures and “otherness.” This is, of course, still a contemporary issue in the city and around the world, where human differences and diversity are seen as a negative rather than a positive. But this story also reaffirms the importance of Eldridge Street Synagogue as a community anchor. The synagogue acted as both a religious haven, and as a safe space where congregants felt as if they could openly express their opinions and concerns. It is space like this synagogue that provide marginalized communities the room and safety to debate, experiment, and grow.
Dina Posner is a candidate for a Masters degree in Historic Preservation at Pratt Institute.