October 9, 2017--Cousin Elaine
Cousin Elaine, who died peacefully on Saturday, became part of the family more than 70 years ago.
That family was my mother's--the Mooneys.
My father's side, the Zwerlings, were not that family-minded but it included a wide range of characters from my chain-smoking, poker-playing grandmother who was the only elderly Jewish woman I knew who could not cook--actually, had no interest whatsoever in household matters--as well as a number of uncles and cousins who were mobbed-up. Uncle Herman, for example, owner of gin mills in New Jersey and Brownsville, always packed a pistol. Family lore has it that he not only carried one but on occasion was known to use it. And there was his brother Louie, who every summer went to Saratoga Springs to follow the ponies, always accompanied by a bottle-blonde or two. Needless to say, none of them his wife.
As a kid, I loved that transgressive excitement.
But it was the Mooneys who made me feel secure and loved. Very much including Murray Dinerstein--the oldest of our generation of cousins--who was and is 15 years older than I--and who was Cousin Elaine's husband.
More than 70 years ago, Elaine Goldfarb was the first person I knew who married into the family. Others, of course, had done so previously and were assimilated Mooneys by the time I was aware enough to notice, but up to then all who had joined the Mooney clan were around when I was born and so Elaine was the first person I knew who was about to marry in.
I remember vividly the first time I met her. It was after the end of the Second World War, about 1945, shortly after Cousin Murray, resplendent in his uniform, was on leave from the Air Force and during that time brought Elaine around to meet the family which was gathered at my parents' apartment in East Flatbush. Actually, where my mother and her four sisters were gathered. The men took no part in these rituals.
Though I was not included in the family chatter about the purpose of this encounter, I was aware enough to figure out that Elaine was Murray's potential fiancee. I say "potential" because there was a sense that he was seeking his aunts' approval before proceeding with nuptial plans.
They were seated around the kitchen table with one chair reserved for Elaine. I snuggled up close to my mother. Murray ushered her in and my mother, with a welcoming smile, motioned for her to sit. She did and Murray retreated to the living room sofa, where he waited to be summoned.
I do not remember all that was asked or said, but I do have a vivid recollection that the sisters were encouraging and that they were most interested in learning about Elaine's family.
As she spoke about them in their own way they seemed as interesting as the Zwerlings in that they too appeared to lead unconventional lives, but on the right side of the law. Among other things it seemed that her two Goldfarb uncles were very successful businessmen, one of whom, Sid, was building a major art collection and lived in Malibu and the other, Phil (Fishel), had an expansive apartment in the Sherry Netherland Hotel in Manhattan and in his early years was teamed up with Danny Kaye who, at that time was a popular Borscht Belt entertainer.
And, Elaine reported, her father was a dentist. A professional. Up to that time there were none of these in either the Mooney or Zwerling family.
My mother and aunts also were visibly impressed by the fact that Doc Goldfarb, Elaine's father and her mother, Ida, owned a one-family, house on the best stretch of Brooklyn's spacious Kings Highway. No one in the family up to that time owned much less lived in a one-family house. A brick one, no less!
Of course, later in life I was excited to learn that Doc Goldfarb had among his patients a few members of the Murder Incorporated gang. I became aware of this from Cousin Murray who one night told the story about how when Elaine's father's office was broken into by thieves who stole his dental gold, it took just a few days for it to be returned through the assistance of some of his, shall we say. "well-connected" patients.
Not surprisingly, Murray's aunts unanimously welcomed Elaine into their close-knit family. And soon Elaine and Murray expanded the family with their two sons, Harvey and Matthew.
Over the years I got to know Elaine as a talented artist who had excellent, very classy taste. The renovations of the house in Lawrence and the apartment in the Imperial House in Manhattan were both directed by her and were among the most beautiful of Mooney family environments and housed her collection of Chinese porcelains. Both included spacious dining rooms, which Elaine used liberally to host memorable family occasions. Including the after-burial gathering when my father died.
She also, with Murray, made the family feel welcome at their summer home in Bantam Lake, CT, where over the decades, as an annual summer treat, we indulged in dozens of ears of fresh corn from a local farm.
Also, as time went by, as the 15-year gap that separated Murray and me became less important, as we grew older together, Rona and I, frequently with cousins Chuck and Esther, the six Mooney descendants who still lived in New York City, in Manhattan, would meet for long dinners at a wide range of ethnic restaurants where we spent hours together talking about everything from family history, to politics, movies, books, plans for upcoming trips (Elaine and Murray especially were frequent global travelers), and just to bask in the feelings that only intimacy and love can bring.
As I think back now over Cousin Elaine's decades in our family, these are among the happiest memories of my lifetime, and I take pleasure in recalling how she played a never-to-be-forgotten part in them.
That family was my mother's--the Mooneys.
My father's side, the Zwerlings, were not that family-minded but it included a wide range of characters from my chain-smoking, poker-playing grandmother who was the only elderly Jewish woman I knew who could not cook--actually, had no interest whatsoever in household matters--as well as a number of uncles and cousins who were mobbed-up. Uncle Herman, for example, owner of gin mills in New Jersey and Brownsville, always packed a pistol. Family lore has it that he not only carried one but on occasion was known to use it. And there was his brother Louie, who every summer went to Saratoga Springs to follow the ponies, always accompanied by a bottle-blonde or two. Needless to say, none of them his wife.
As a kid, I loved that transgressive excitement.
But it was the Mooneys who made me feel secure and loved. Very much including Murray Dinerstein--the oldest of our generation of cousins--who was and is 15 years older than I--and who was Cousin Elaine's husband.
More than 70 years ago, Elaine Goldfarb was the first person I knew who married into the family. Others, of course, had done so previously and were assimilated Mooneys by the time I was aware enough to notice, but up to then all who had joined the Mooney clan were around when I was born and so Elaine was the first person I knew who was about to marry in.
I remember vividly the first time I met her. It was after the end of the Second World War, about 1945, shortly after Cousin Murray, resplendent in his uniform, was on leave from the Air Force and during that time brought Elaine around to meet the family which was gathered at my parents' apartment in East Flatbush. Actually, where my mother and her four sisters were gathered. The men took no part in these rituals.
Though I was not included in the family chatter about the purpose of this encounter, I was aware enough to figure out that Elaine was Murray's potential fiancee. I say "potential" because there was a sense that he was seeking his aunts' approval before proceeding with nuptial plans.
They were seated around the kitchen table with one chair reserved for Elaine. I snuggled up close to my mother. Murray ushered her in and my mother, with a welcoming smile, motioned for her to sit. She did and Murray retreated to the living room sofa, where he waited to be summoned.
I do not remember all that was asked or said, but I do have a vivid recollection that the sisters were encouraging and that they were most interested in learning about Elaine's family.
As she spoke about them in their own way they seemed as interesting as the Zwerlings in that they too appeared to lead unconventional lives, but on the right side of the law. Among other things it seemed that her two Goldfarb uncles were very successful businessmen, one of whom, Sid, was building a major art collection and lived in Malibu and the other, Phil (Fishel), had an expansive apartment in the Sherry Netherland Hotel in Manhattan and in his early years was teamed up with Danny Kaye who, at that time was a popular Borscht Belt entertainer.
And, Elaine reported, her father was a dentist. A professional. Up to that time there were none of these in either the Mooney or Zwerling family.
My mother and aunts also were visibly impressed by the fact that Doc Goldfarb, Elaine's father and her mother, Ida, owned a one-family, house on the best stretch of Brooklyn's spacious Kings Highway. No one in the family up to that time owned much less lived in a one-family house. A brick one, no less!
Of course, later in life I was excited to learn that Doc Goldfarb had among his patients a few members of the Murder Incorporated gang. I became aware of this from Cousin Murray who one night told the story about how when Elaine's father's office was broken into by thieves who stole his dental gold, it took just a few days for it to be returned through the assistance of some of his, shall we say. "well-connected" patients.
Not surprisingly, Murray's aunts unanimously welcomed Elaine into their close-knit family. And soon Elaine and Murray expanded the family with their two sons, Harvey and Matthew.
Over the years I got to know Elaine as a talented artist who had excellent, very classy taste. The renovations of the house in Lawrence and the apartment in the Imperial House in Manhattan were both directed by her and were among the most beautiful of Mooney family environments and housed her collection of Chinese porcelains. Both included spacious dining rooms, which Elaine used liberally to host memorable family occasions. Including the after-burial gathering when my father died.
She also, with Murray, made the family feel welcome at their summer home in Bantam Lake, CT, where over the decades, as an annual summer treat, we indulged in dozens of ears of fresh corn from a local farm.
Also, as time went by, as the 15-year gap that separated Murray and me became less important, as we grew older together, Rona and I, frequently with cousins Chuck and Esther, the six Mooney descendants who still lived in New York City, in Manhattan, would meet for long dinners at a wide range of ethnic restaurants where we spent hours together talking about everything from family history, to politics, movies, books, plans for upcoming trips (Elaine and Murray especially were frequent global travelers), and just to bask in the feelings that only intimacy and love can bring.
As I think back now over Cousin Elaine's decades in our family, these are among the happiest memories of my lifetime, and I take pleasure in recalling how she played a never-to-be-forgotten part in them.
Labels: Bantam Lake, Borscht Belt, Cousins, Danny Kaye, Death In the Family, Elaine Dinerstein, Family, Gangsters, Manhattan, Murray Dinerstein
posted by Steven Zwerling at
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