2008 Woodie Awards
"Y F B" (Yeshiva From Birth)
Joshua L. Muss
Issue date: 12/6/04 Section: YUdaica
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The imprint on my forehead at birth read "YC '62." There was no discussion, no suspense, no doubt about it!
My father's father left Russia, a married teenager, towards the end of the 19th century. He traveled to Shanghai and then to South Africa, finding employment as a contractor, and, with a growing family, reached America and settled in Brooklyn in 1906. He thrived as a builder. With little religious or secular schooling, he earned a graduate degree in religious education by building (literally "building") Yeshivas. He was honored for that by Yeshiva University. My mother and family came to the Bronx in 1916 from the Polish town of Swislocz. Some 13 years later they welcomed the arrival of a landsman and distant relative... Samuel Belkin.
My father - a rabbi, a lawyer, and a businessman - was a member of the first graduating class (YC'32) and was an alumni leader and a board member of REITS. He was once quoted as saying that everything that he became, he owed to Yeshiva. My mother was a founder of the Yeshiva University Women's Organization; many meetings took place in our apartment. My brother Stan and I were a first offering.
Our first neighborhoods were lonely outposts generically known to children of pulpit Rabbis - Patchogue, Long Island and Flushing, Queens. Yeshiva day school, Ramaz, was a subway ride into Manhattan (imagine a solitary 2nd grader in the subways). The commute continued through high school - Forest Hills to MTA. The journey ended, happily, in a dorm room in Rubin Hall. I was fortunate to be assigned for four years to a room dedicated to my grandparents' memory, a room with a great view of Manhattan (unimpeded by the yet-to-be-built Belfer Hall) and which afforded me an unusual opportunity: I stayed put while upper and lower classmen passed through my floor, sharing with me a very diverse menu of maturity and wisdom.
Academic images, much faded, recall the affectionate garbled brilliance of Rabbi Menachem Brayer; memory drills for the Reb Maurice Wohlgelernter's fearsome finals (forgotten by the day after); the lilting poetry of the great Bialik, delivered by the great Havatzelet; German beer songs belted out by Rosenberg's rogues (the louder you sang, the higher the mark); and the inspiring historical perspectives and philosophical insights from the legendary classes of the youthful Rabbi Drs. Greenberg, Shmidman and Lamm.
From a social point of view, allowing for the several years that have passed and changes in landmarks, technology and social mores, I'm absolutely certain that little has changed: deadlines at The Commentator; all night cram sessions rewarded by a late night trip to Schmulka Bernstein or sunrise at Ratners; stirring political oratory in the student council; social consciousness on issues beyond campus (civil rights was current, and it was the dawning of the Age of Aquarius); the shlep to late night tennis practice at a Harlem armory, and a shlep to anywhere for matches; jam sessions and ad-hoc engagement parties ('60s "lechayims") and, of course, the ongoing challenge of the cafeteria (actually, in my time, the food was pretty good).
The facilities were lousy. At the time, there was hardly anything that was "good" and much that just "wasn't" - no labs, no gym, certainly no swimming pool, no on-campus "mall," and the main classroom building was shared with the high school; in fact, little had changed since my father's time. And, of course, we were uniformly mistreated by the administration. But we loved Yeshiva.
We were challenged by the brilliance of motivated classmates and by dedicated teachers who were inspired by their students. Tirelessly, we balanced those 18-hour days that made everything that followed easy. We achieved what we set out to achieve. The pre-meds all made med school; good absorption into top law schools; graduate students evolved into tenured professors; and some terrific educators and brilliant Rabbis emerged. Lasting relationships were forged because we all had so much in common, a kinship that networked us and followed us into our professions and communities where we kept up with each other's families, introduced our children to each other, and continued that bond that began generations ago and will endure, please G-d, for many more to come.
Sure, we wore blinders to the outside world... a world that we discovered soon enough in graduate school or as we set out to make a mark in life. And, for the most part, we were well up to the task. But that camaraderie, a sense of dependence on any one of hundreds of like-minded fellow students, inures to this day, and is unmatched in any alternative academic setting.
More than any graduates of any academic institution in the world, it is necessary to continue our fealty to Yeshiva College. If the word "love" doesn't jump to mind, consider "obligation" or "survival" (of our way of life). There is a need to give back to the students, to ease their burden, and to make their experience more meaningful and more productive and somewhat more comfortable because we know just whom it is that they are. They are us!
Joshua L. Muss, MTA '58, TI '62, YC '62, is a long established New York City real estate developer. He was very active in student activities as an undergraduate and is currently active in many civic and Jewish organizations. Mr. Muss presently serves as chairman of the Yeshiva College Board of Directors.
My father's father left Russia, a married teenager, towards the end of the 19th century. He traveled to Shanghai and then to South Africa, finding employment as a contractor, and, with a growing family, reached America and settled in Brooklyn in 1906. He thrived as a builder. With little religious or secular schooling, he earned a graduate degree in religious education by building (literally "building") Yeshivas. He was honored for that by Yeshiva University. My mother and family came to the Bronx in 1916 from the Polish town of Swislocz. Some 13 years later they welcomed the arrival of a landsman and distant relative... Samuel Belkin.
My father - a rabbi, a lawyer, and a businessman - was a member of the first graduating class (YC'32) and was an alumni leader and a board member of REITS. He was once quoted as saying that everything that he became, he owed to Yeshiva. My mother was a founder of the Yeshiva University Women's Organization; many meetings took place in our apartment. My brother Stan and I were a first offering.
Our first neighborhoods were lonely outposts generically known to children of pulpit Rabbis - Patchogue, Long Island and Flushing, Queens. Yeshiva day school, Ramaz, was a subway ride into Manhattan (imagine a solitary 2nd grader in the subways). The commute continued through high school - Forest Hills to MTA. The journey ended, happily, in a dorm room in Rubin Hall. I was fortunate to be assigned for four years to a room dedicated to my grandparents' memory, a room with a great view of Manhattan (unimpeded by the yet-to-be-built Belfer Hall) and which afforded me an unusual opportunity: I stayed put while upper and lower classmen passed through my floor, sharing with me a very diverse menu of maturity and wisdom.
Academic images, much faded, recall the affectionate garbled brilliance of Rabbi Menachem Brayer; memory drills for the Reb Maurice Wohlgelernter's fearsome finals (forgotten by the day after); the lilting poetry of the great Bialik, delivered by the great Havatzelet; German beer songs belted out by Rosenberg's rogues (the louder you sang, the higher the mark); and the inspiring historical perspectives and philosophical insights from the legendary classes of the youthful Rabbi Drs. Greenberg, Shmidman and Lamm.
From a social point of view, allowing for the several years that have passed and changes in landmarks, technology and social mores, I'm absolutely certain that little has changed: deadlines at The Commentator; all night cram sessions rewarded by a late night trip to Schmulka Bernstein or sunrise at Ratners; stirring political oratory in the student council; social consciousness on issues beyond campus (civil rights was current, and it was the dawning of the Age of Aquarius); the shlep to late night tennis practice at a Harlem armory, and a shlep to anywhere for matches; jam sessions and ad-hoc engagement parties ('60s "lechayims") and, of course, the ongoing challenge of the cafeteria (actually, in my time, the food was pretty good).
The facilities were lousy. At the time, there was hardly anything that was "good" and much that just "wasn't" - no labs, no gym, certainly no swimming pool, no on-campus "mall," and the main classroom building was shared with the high school; in fact, little had changed since my father's time. And, of course, we were uniformly mistreated by the administration. But we loved Yeshiva.
We were challenged by the brilliance of motivated classmates and by dedicated teachers who were inspired by their students. Tirelessly, we balanced those 18-hour days that made everything that followed easy. We achieved what we set out to achieve. The pre-meds all made med school; good absorption into top law schools; graduate students evolved into tenured professors; and some terrific educators and brilliant Rabbis emerged. Lasting relationships were forged because we all had so much in common, a kinship that networked us and followed us into our professions and communities where we kept up with each other's families, introduced our children to each other, and continued that bond that began generations ago and will endure, please G-d, for many more to come.
Sure, we wore blinders to the outside world... a world that we discovered soon enough in graduate school or as we set out to make a mark in life. And, for the most part, we were well up to the task. But that camaraderie, a sense of dependence on any one of hundreds of like-minded fellow students, inures to this day, and is unmatched in any alternative academic setting.
More than any graduates of any academic institution in the world, it is necessary to continue our fealty to Yeshiva College. If the word "love" doesn't jump to mind, consider "obligation" or "survival" (of our way of life). There is a need to give back to the students, to ease their burden, and to make their experience more meaningful and more productive and somewhat more comfortable because we know just whom it is that they are. They are us!
Joshua L. Muss, MTA '58, TI '62, YC '62, is a long established New York City real estate developer. He was very active in student activities as an undergraduate and is currently active in many civic and Jewish organizations. Mr. Muss presently serves as chairman of the Yeshiva College Board of Directors.