| Name | Morris Binstock, Grandson |
| Birth | 17 Aug 1902, Drilge, Poland |
| Death | 10 Jul 1977, Toronto |
| Burial | Toronto |
| Father | Chaim Binstock (~1874-~1940) |
| Mother | Chaya Sura Fruitman (-1914) |
My father was born in Drilge Poland, on August 17, 1902 to Chaim and Chaya Sura Binstock (nee Fruitman). Chaim Binstock was a butcher in this small shtetl, a business he also undertook in Toronto. I know little of my grandfather, other than the stories that my father related to me over the years.
Dad was the eldest of the children. Lil, Harry, Anne and Faye were also born in Poland. After Faye was born Zaida came to Toronto to make as much money as was needed to bring the family to Toronto. Dad and other members of the family looked after the children. Unfortunately Bubbe died while Zaida was in Toronto, and he had to return home. When he returned home he met and married Esther Kleinburg. After they returned to Canada Albert (Butch) and Merle were born.
Zaida was a very tall man - his nickname was Hoicha Chaim or Tall Chaim. He had a love for sports, particularly baseball. As a matter of fact all of his children liked baseball. I remember Dad taking me to watch Butch play -he was a pitcher- at Bellwoods Park.
When my father was growing up in Poland, he like all the young Jewish men in the town had to attend the local 'Chaider'. During his years at the Chaider, my father was a very mischievous person. Dad's first story he ever told me took place here at the Chaider. The class he attended consisted only of boys. Because Dad was tall he was considered one of the stronger boys in the class. Apparently Dad liked to talk too much during class, and the teacher often had to discipline him either by pulling on his ear(s) or hitting him with a stick or pointer. Dad did not like to be reprimanded in this fashion, so he concocted a scheme to "get back" at the rebbe. Apparently the rebbe had a rather long beard and my Dad decided that he would try to burn part of this beard.
After a bit of planning, Dad decided the day had come. Dad warned the other students in the class that he was about to do something and if anyone dared ever to tell, they would have to deal with him.
During most classes the rebbe had a little 'drimmel' or nap while the class worked on an assignment. The rebbe would fold his arms on the desk and put his head down to nap. Of course his beard would hang down towards the floor. Dad took some paper and rolled coneshaped and placed it on the floor under the beard and then lit a match to the paper. Needless to say, in a few seconds the rebbe awoke startled fearing that his beard was on fire. Fortunetly, it was the smoke from the paper that awoke the rebbe before his beard did burn. There was hell to pay for all the students in the class,
but Dad swears that never did anyone in his class ever own up and tell on him. Unfortunately, for all of the class, the ear pulling and the beatings with the sticks continued.
I guess Dad just liked to live on the wild side. I remember the next story he told me, with a glint in his eye, was about wedding ceremonies. In their small town, many wedding ceremonies were held outside in the early evening. Dad and a few of his friends would hide behind bushes or in overhangs along the route of the ceremony, and when they had the chance, they would throw 'things' at the bride and groom. Apparently, this did not happen often, as my grandfather was not too pleased and my father would be punished, even if he was not involved.
Was I like my Dad? I remember when Clifford Swadron's sister Gloria was married, I was about 12 yrs. old. Clifford was at our house and we had a lot of time on our hands before we had to go to the ceremony (at the Murray House on Beverly Street), so we decided to go for a walk. We found a store that was selling firecrackers and we bought some to throw around. Clifford was getting bored and started to run back to our house, but I continued to throw around the rest of the firecrackers in the street. Would you believe, a police cruiser stopped me to make sure I was being careful. They then insisted on driving me home. Thank G-d no one in my family saw me in the cruiser. Actually, they let me off at the corner of our street. I must haved aged a lifetime. Was I scared! Since my grandfather was a butcher, it was natural for the young boys that played with my Dad, when the store was closed, to play "Butcher". It was usually decided that some of the boys would be customers, another would be the 'piece of meat' that was being purchased, but, my father would always be the butcher, since the game was in his father's store. Well, one particular day, one of the boys who was the 'piece of meat' decided to put his hand on the butcher block while my father was practicing hitting the block with a meat cleaver. Dad swears that when he brought down the cleaver, the boy's hand was on the block, and he chopped of the tips of the three middle fingers. Needless to say, the game was never played again.
Dad had to help with the family funds. At the beginning of World War 1, Dad was 12 at the time, and had to help dig trenches for the soldiers. He did not receive any monies but was paid in potatoes by the military. It was compulsory for all young men to join the army at age 16. My Zaida did not want Dad in the army because he knew that being a Jew, Dad would get all the menial jobs to do and of course there was always the possibility of being engaged in actual warfare. Zaida decided the only way to keep Dad out of the army was to lie about Dad's age. Since Dad's birth certificate was dated 1902, Zaida bribed the towns's registrar of births and had the year of birth changed to 1904. Dad never changed this year of birth. I guess it was a sad reminder of a time long ago.
I remember one other story Dad told me. It was about Uncle Harry. (Warren is named after Harry - Alter Zev). Zaida's brother, who Harry did not like, lived in the same town. I do not know why Harry did not like him. He often came to the butcher shop, and on one particular occasion apparently an argument began. Harry was sent to his room in a loft above the store. Harry saw the him leave the store, and as I recall Dad telling me, Harry took a sack of potatoes and threw it at Zaida's brother, knocking him out. Harry thought he killed him and ran away, afraid the police would come to get him. Months later, Dad found Harry in another small shtetl and convinced Harry to return home.
As I mentioned earlier, Zaida and Bubbe Esther and the children made arrangements to come to Toronto. They travelled from Drilge to Berlin, Germany to Holland where they were to board a boat to Canada. Dad told me that when they arrived in Berlin, his first impression was of awe. He saw people elegantly dressed, and travelling in horse drawn carriages. He saw people eating in small restaurants where the tables were in the streets. Dad remembers telling his father that when the rebbe in the shtetl talked of "Gnaidin" or paradise, he did not know what he was talking about. He did not see the opulence of Berlin. THIS was paradise according to Dad.
When the family arrived in Holland, Uncle Harry was ill, I believe he had a problem with an eye. It was soon discoverd that Harry was not going to be allowed to board the ship because of this eye infection.
The story as told to me by Dad is as follows:
Dad gave Harry his boarding pass so that Harry and the rest of the family could board the ship. Dad would stay in Holland, his choice, as he wanted to see as much of Europe as he could, make some money and come to Canada later. Dad saw the family off and then made his way to Amsterdam, the diamond capital, where he thought he could find some work. Soon after he arrived in Amsterdam, there was a robbery at a large diamond merchant. Unfortunately for Dad the police rounded up all persons who were not citizens and could prove their innocence, and escorted them out of town. Next stop was Switzerland. Dad always thought Switzerland was the most beautiful country he had ever seen.
As he travelled in Europe, Dad often travelled with other men looking for work. As was the custom among these men, they expected each person in the group to spend their monies on each other for food and drink - mostly drink. Dad admitted to me on the many occasions each time he retold this story, of often getting drunk while he and his travelling mates would be drinking away the monies they earned while travelling together. Apparently, if anyone held out and did not spend their money, they would be beaten up. Dad worried that any money he tried to save they would find, so he cut out the heel of his shoes and hid large denomination bills so that they would not find any excess funds he had.
Dad heard that men were travelling to England and he found passage on a boat that first took him to Ireland. He remembers that once at sea he became terribly ill. Of Course this was his first boat ride and he was sea sick. On the crossing from Ireland to England Dad had what possessions he owned stolen. When he arrived in England he had very little money saved. The Salvation Army people met people at the dock side to help them find places to stay, and food to eat. When they determined Dad was Jewish, they found him a Jewish family who fed him and gave him a place to live while he looked for a job. I do not know what he did in England, but I do know that he was there for only a few months before he earned enough money to return to the continent. Dad continued to work and found out that he could purchase forged documents that would get him a position on a freighter as a general worker. He paid a considerable amount of money for the forged papers and looked for a boat whose itinerary would take him to Canada. What he found was a boat whose itinerary was Le Havre to New York City, to Cape Town, South Africa, to New York City and returning to home in Le Havre. He proceeded to approach the person hiring and his forged papers were accepted. His problems were just beginning. Not long after the boat was at sea, Dad was given his first assignment of determining the temperature of the sea water. He had no idea what they needed this information for nor how to get it. The captain quickly determined that the seaman's papers Dad held were forged and Dad was quickly put to work doing all the dirtiest duties there were to be done aboard ship. He remembered cleaning more toilets, scrubbing decks, and washing more dishes than any one else. He remembered that his crew boss was a stern taskmaster, but Dad felt he could be bought. When the boat arrived in New York Harbour, Dad was allowed to go ashore accompanied by other sailors. Dad promised this crew boss he would buy him a present. With the little money he had earned before and during this boat trip, he bought some toiletries for the crew boss. While ashore, Dad knew that Baltimore, Md. was not far from New York and was able to get away from the sailors for awhile and found out how much it cost to travel one way from New York to Baltimore. Dad knew he had relatives in Baltimore, and once he got there he felt he would have no trouble in finding them. Dad still needed more money for the bus trip.
Dad returned to the ship and gave the gifts to the crew boss, thinking that he would lighten Dad's duties. But Dad continued to work just as hard. When the ship reached Capetown, Dad did the same thing. He arranged to go ashore and again purchased gifts for the crew boss. Dad knew that he had to continue to be on the good side of the crew boss. It was better to have to work like a slave and earn a few dollars, than to be in the brig and earn nothing.
When the ship returned to New York Harbour, Dad again arranged to go ashore. This time there were no gifts to buy for the crew boss. He headed for the bus station where he boarded a bus for Baltimore. He found his relatives who put him up and called Zaida to let the family know that Dad was in America. In the meantime the police were alerted that Dad had jumped ship. Somehow the relatives in Baltimore were contacted by the authorities inquiring after Dad, and if they knew of his whereabouts. They lied and phoned Zaida again who told them to put Dad on a train bound for Detroit, Michigan, where Dad was to stay in the station upon arrival to wait for his father.
Zaida arrived and met Dad. He also made arrangements with a Shochet (a person well versed in the laws of 'shechita' i.e. kosher slaughtering) for Dad to accompany him on his truck (wagon?) when the Shochet crossed the border to sell the Kosher chickens in Windsor. Zaida returned to Canada by himself. Dad was to be the workman on the truck, and was to return with the Shochet. As arranged, the Shochet returned home later than usual, and told the customs persons that his worker did not return with him, and that he did not know where he went. The Shochet further told them that he could not wait any longer and had to return home without the helper.
Zaida returned home with Dad from Windsor by train.
Dad started to work in the garment industry in 1923. At that time Dad spelled the family name as BEINSTOK and then to BINSTOK. His first job was with Tailor Craft Ltd. at 259 Spadina Ave. Then for Tip Top Tailors and finally for Warren K. Cook Clothes until he retired about l969.
In 1926 Dad was visited by Canadian immigration, who wanted to know how and when he arrived in Canada. Zaida and Dad were at a crossroads. What were they to tell the immigration officials?
Fortunately there was a person in Toronto who had a good reputation for helping Jewish immigrants with problems with immigraion officials and with helping emigrate from various countries in Europe. His name was Unchel Wise. He owned a travel agency at the corner of Dundas and Elizabeth streets in Toronto. It was he that Dad went to with his problem.
Since Dad crossed into Canada illegally he did not have 'a story' to tell to Canadian immigration that would convince them that he really was a legal immigrant. It was decided that Dad would tell them that he came by ship to Canada, arriving at the port of Montreal, P.Q., and then came to Toronto via the boat train. When Dad was asked the name of the boat that he came here on, Dad faked surprise by telling them that he was unaware that boats had names. He told them he was put on the ship in Holland by friends and was not aware of a name for the ship. Apparently they had
heard this story before, and Dad was told that unless he could prove that he was a legal immigrant he would be deported back to
Europe. Later, in consultation with Mr. Wise, Dad mentioned that while he did come here illegally, he paid income taxes and registered at City Hall so that he could vote. When Mr. Wise heard that Dad had paid income tax and of course was using his correct family name, he felt this was sufficient to convince the immigration board. They returned to the immigration department with Dad's copies of his 1923 and 1924 Income Tax Assessment Notices. The immigration people felt that maybe this guy is telling the truth - i.e.
- He always used his family name
- He did not avoid them when summoned to appear
- Most important of all he paid his income taxes and kept receipts.
Note: It was then called The Income War Tax Act, 1917
Dad's 1923 Gross income and tax payable was $1241.65 and $11.60 respectively.
For 1924 the figures were $1232.50 and 10.73 respectively.
Dad met his wife, Rivka (Becky) Applebaum and were married December 25, 1925.
In 1923 Dad spelled his name Morris Beinstok, and lived at 113 Baldwin Ave. Then moving to 291 Crawford Street; 205 Ossington Ave.; to Cecil St., to Robert Street where Irene was born, then to 619 Dundas Street W.; to 22 Palmerston Gardens; to 2895 Bathurst St.; to 25 Verwood Ave.
I do not know when Dad changed the spelling of the family name as we know it today. However, Dad's insurance agent, Joseph Brody, insisted that both Mother and Dad complete a Notice of Change of Name for Dad's insurance Policy with Great-West Life Assurance Company to avoid future complications. This form was signed on October 17, 1951. Mother's name then was spelled as Beckie. I do not know when she changed the spelling to Becky.
B o r n D i e d
Morris Binstock August 17, 1904 July 10, 1977
Becky Binstock October 20, 1904 December 12, 1990
Irene Sylvia (Cooper) September 3, 1927 April 18, 1968
Gloria (Kurtz) August 25, 1935
Martin Allan June 19, 1938
In 1959 Dad bought a ticket on the Irish Sweeps Stakes with two of his friends Dave Hersh and Harry Crystal. They had been buying tickets together as partners for over thirty years.
The race was called the Epsom Derby. The winning horse was Parthia and the date of the race was Wednesday, June 3, 1959. They were fortunate to win the first prize of 50,000 British Pounds. Approximately $150,000. With the winnings, Mother and Dad purchased the home at 25 Verwood Avenue.
| 1 | Rebecca Applebaum |
| Birth | 20 Oct 1904 |
| Death | 12 Dec 1990 |
| Marriage | 25 Dec 1925 |
| Children | Irene (1927-1968) |
| Gloria (1935-) | |
| Martin Allan (1938-) |