He was arrested for peddling without a license, but got off with the help of a landsman named Morris Rosenthal, a Civil War veteran known as The King of the Jews and the first Jewish officer in the Pittsburgh Police. Our humble peddler would eventually marry the King’s daughter, but first he needed to earn a living. So he peddled on foot from Pittsburgh to Ligonier, selling his goods by day and sleeping in barns at night.
Eventually, he opened a wholesale clothing operation on Fifth Avenue, the first of its kind in Pittsburgh. In 1902, he sold the business for $129,000 — millions today. He moved to New York and invested his fortune in the stock market. By 1905 he couldn’t pay his rent. So our peddler-turned-wholesaler-turned-investor, along with his wife and seven children, returned to Pittsburgh. He took a job for $25 a week and started from scratch.
“By 1929 I wouldn’t be surprised if he was worth half a million dollars in stocks,” his son, from whom this account is taken, told an interviewer in 1982. “But he got caught in the crash, too. But this time he wasn’t wiped out and he was able to hold on.”
Our man was William Wolk. His son was Abe Wolk, the former city councilman and judge who cleared the skies of this once smoky city, brought the Civic Light Opera into existence and served leadership roles in numerous local Jewish organizations.
These facts are merely crumbs from one slice of the long, braided challah that was the Fifth Avenue wholesaling district. Over the course of a century, this small stretch of Uptown Pittsburgh housed hundreds of wholesaling operations, making it the largest district of its kind between New York and Chicago. Most of the businesses were Jewish-owned. They sold jewelry. They sold home furnishings and electrical supplies. They sold dry goods and notions. And, of course, they sold clothes — lots and lots of clothes.
Although “the Avenue,” as the district was affectionately known, never made major inroads into department stores such as Horne’s, Gimbel’s or Kaufmann’s, it stocked most small-town retailers across the tri-state area. Salesmen worked punishing schedules, sometimes spending six days a week on the road collecting orders, eating candy bars for lunch and sleeping in cheap motels. On Sundays, the small town merchants descended upon the Avenue en masse to fill in their stock, buy meat or matzo, and visit friends.
I first learned about the Avenue from Amy Lowenstein, a brilliant researcher and the daughter of a successful shoe wholesaler on the Avenue. For six years, she dutifully combed through city directories to compile a comprehensive list of businesses on the Avenue from 1883 to 1973. Her database includes more than 6,000 entries.
Now, I am constructing a history. The story of the Avenue is the story of individuals. Lowenstein has conducted interviews with many people associated with the Avenue, but there are more stories to hear and time is running out to collect them.
That is why I’m asking for help from the community. If you worked on the Avenue or bought from the Avenue, I want to hear your story. If your parents or grandparents worked on the Avenue, I want to know what they told you about it. If you’ve got artifacts — photographs, ledgers or attaché cases — I want to see them.
The Avenue propelled many families into the middle class, which helped sustain local Jewish institutions. The wholesalers advertised in yearbooks for congregations and day schools. They helped launch the United Jewish Fund. The Pittsburgh Wholesalers Credit Association promoted their annual banquet through the pages of this newspaper.
And by stocking mom-and-pop retail outlets across this region, often on credit, in good times and bad, the Avenue also contributed to the health of small town Jewry.
We have seen fit to document institutions such as the Irene Kaufmann Settlement House, Montefiore Hospital and the Concordia Club, but the Avenue hasn’t yet been given the same treatment. It might not have been a religious institution, or a cultural institution, or even a formal institution at all, but it shaped this community in a unique way. The story of the Avenue is the story of thousands of Jews struggling to thrive and prosper in society. They were religious and secular. They were strangers, friends and families. They were united by proximity, a common history and a common goal.
That, to my mind, is a good definition of “community.”
(Eric Lidji is a writer living in Pittsburgh and a former associate editor of The Jewish Chronicle. He can be reached at 907-687-5085 or ericlidji@mac.com.)
I was obviously not around back then, but another great Pittsurgh clothing store tradition was the Frank and Seder chain. My great grandfather on my mother's side was the Frank part of the equation.
About all I have by way of documentation of any of this are the resources you have probably already found - things like the history of Montefiore, Concordia, Rodef Shalom, and some of the great books on Pittsburgh in general. I know my aunt donated a lot of her father's papers and other materials to the Historical Society some years back, so you may find interesting information there as well. I will send you a list privately of remaining family members who could likely help you - which will also help me ;->
That's very interesting. I didn't know that Wolk and Frank ended up having a family connection. If you e-mail me we can talk further:
ericlidji@mac.com
Eric
I don't know that the Wolk and Frank families had any business connections, but yes, there were actually several intermarriages over time, and of course they all knew one another, were involved in many of the same institutions, etc.
I did email you right away as I promised after I posted my first comment; perhaps you did not receive the message?
Wendy
Dear Jewish Chronicles and Eric Lidji,
The above statement is incorrect. In 1879, Poland did not exist as an independent or sovereign nation. The city of Suwalki was under the control of Russia Empire during that time. Please make the appropriate correction.
This distinction is crucial as many Jewish historians who write about the regions of occupied Poland during that time have a poor habit of referring to the country as "Poland" when in fact it was not an independent country on the map of Europe at all. The Polish government and people did not implement or control national policy at all.
Thanks for the correction. I did some research on the date, but clearly not enough. That stretch of time leading up to World War I is somewhat confusing. I appreciate your watchfulness.
It is true that in 1879, the region was Russian, and so he would have in fact emigrated from Russia and not Poland when he left - but William Wolk was born in 1862, at which time the area was still part of the Polish Empire (RusoPoland aka Congress Poland).
It was apparently a puppet state of Russia at the time that enjoyed little to no factual autonomy, although it was technically still a separate state.
The area was not finally and officially absorbed entirely into Russia until the January Uprising of 1863 was crushed in 1865.
Previous to this, the region had gone by various names including the Kingdom of Poland and Duchy of Lithuania - and the borders were constantly changing.
It really depends on which part of the Suwalki region one is discussing, because it got split up and the borders rearranged on several occasions. Some of it is now in Lithuania, and some in Poland.
It does appear that Polish birth nationality is the most likely - at least for those born prior to 1865.
I am still not sure exactly where in the Suwalki region William was born (that is my current area of research), but it appears to have possibly been Przerosl, which is definitely *now* in Poland, but has also been part of both Russia, possibly Lithuania, Prussia, and even Germany (although not the latter until the 20th century). If it was another town (among several others I am investigating), this may be different.
Poland, Suwalki, Russia, and RusoPoland have so far shown up on various census reports and other official documents as what various ancestors have said was the origin of the family. They may have been blowing with the changing political winds at the various times they gave their answers rather than what the place was legally when they were born.