"It is indicative of both his culture and his life's journey that our grandfather bore a variety of names. Mordechai. Aryeh. Tzvi. Hersch. Leib. Louis.

He was born Tzvi Aryeh ben Mordechai, and Tzvi Aryeh was the name by which he would be called to the Torah. Mordechai after his father; Aryeh in Hebrew means 'lion'; translated to Yiddish, lion becomes Leib. The name Tzvi in Hebrew means 'deer'; in Yiddish deer becomes Hersch. Hence he became known as Hersch Leib Steiman-- but was called 'Louis' in business, and 'Hersch Leib' by his friends and at shul; and to his children he was 'Pa'.

Hersch Leib was born in a region of north-western Russia that is now part of Lithuania. He became a tailor in Slobodka, a suburb of Kovno (now Kaunas), the second largest city in Lithuania. At the time of the Russian-Japanese war, which began in February 1904, he was drafted into the Russian army. This was a blow to the family, as it often meant a 25-year absence and Hersch Leib was already married with children. At the same time, anti-Semitism was on the rise and a wave of pogroms was sweeping Russia. Hannah Rhina was expecting and would soon give birth to her second son, Mitchell, who was born April 15, 1905. At some point Hersch Leib made the decision to desert: he and his brother Chaim boarded ship in Riga and made their way to America via Africa. They were processed at Ellis Island, in New York Harbor, and intended to go on to San Francisco. Hersch Leib wanted to stop in Winnipeg to visit his cousin Robert Steiman. Robert, enthused about the opportunities in the booming "Chicago of the North", persuaded Hersch Leib to stay. Besides, his specialty was making sheepskin coats, for which there was clearly more demand in Winnipeg than in San Francisco! The year was 1904.

While wheeler-dealer Robert went on to build the Merchants Hotel at the corner of Selkirk Avenue and Andrews Street (now the University of Winnipeg's Merchants Corner project), Hersch Leib, together with his newly-arrived brother Chaim, opened a tailor shop on Selkirk Avenue. In 1907 he felt sufficiently established to send for his wife Hannah Rhina and their four children: Clara, Max (who as an adult called himself 'Maxwell'), Mary, and Mitchell (Mike). They initially lived in rooms above the tailor shop but later purchased a home on Pritchard Avenue, which was to be home for Hersch Leib for the remainder of his life. The family added three sons in 1909, 1911 and 1914 — Jack, Leslie and Henry. Shortly after Henry's birth, tragedy struck the family when Hannah Rhina, still in her thirties, passed away. The newborn was immediately given to Uncle Chaim and his wife to raise as their own, and young Jack was placed temporarily under the care of the Jewish Orphanage. Hersch Leib was undoubtedly heartbroken, and poured his energies into building his business and providing for his family.

Winnipeg's modern industrial capitalism was fuelling the settlement of the western prairies. Hard work and long hours enabled Hersch Leib to enlarge his operation, which became the Dominion Garment Company. The company expanded from premises on Selkirk Avenue to a building on Donald Street, where it occupied three floors, and had a freight elevator. They made leather and sheepskin jackets, and winter coats for the harsh prairie winters. The labels on their parkas read "King O' the North", illustrated with the figure of a polar bear. Dominion Garment also made the iconic buffalo coats for the Winnipeg Police force. The growth of the company was further fuelled by the demands of World War II, with government contracts to make convoy and corvette coats for the navy in the north Atlantic.

Although he worked tirelessly, caring for his young family was difficult and Hersch Leib soon married Fanny, one of his sewing machine operators. What began as a marriage of necessity grew to one of deep love and devotion. They soon had four more children: Chana (Anne), Meisha (Morris), Laika, and Rose. But it was difficult for the two oldest children to accept Fanny into their home. Clara declared she would kill her younger brother Max if he ever called "that woman" mother! Shortly afterwards, Max was struck by an automobile and spent three months in hospital; that meant an end to his formal schooling because after his recovery he decided to move out on his own. He was only 14. With Clara leaving shortly after Max, this must have added to the tension in Hersch Leib's burdensome life, lightened though it now was by Fanny.

Along with hard work and his family, Hersch Leib maintained strict religious observance and participated in the community. Jewish life in the North End was vibrant and thriving: between 1903 and 1930 some fourteen synagogues were built, and Hersch Leib played a major role in the construction of the Lubavitcher Shul on Magnus Avenue, which became a centre of orthodox Jewish devotion from its founding in the early 1920's until it closed in the late 1980's. A recent historian of Winnipeg's Jewish community has written that its construction was "owing to the generosity of Hersch Leib Steiman."

As the business expanded, Hersch Leib felt he needed his boys' help. With Max already away from home, Jack and Leslie were taken out of high school before graduating. They were needed in the shop with their father. Mike had helped out long enough to learn the cutter's trade but then went on to law school. That left Jack and Leslie, and later young Henry, toiling in the shop for the remainder of their working lives. Henry had learned only at the time of his bar mitzvah that he was in fact Hersch Leib's son. Regarded as something of an intellectual, Henry became the company's buyer; but he passed away suddenly, in October, 1951 at the age of 37. Three years later Hersch Leib died, in February, 1954. Thereafter, the thriving business he had created, the Dominion Garment Company, was operated by Jack and Leslie until it was liquidated in 1972 eighteen months before Leslie passed away. It was the end of an era for the Steiman family.

So here we are, almost half a century later, telling our grandfather's story. We have created a fund at The Jewish Foundation of Manitoba dedicated to his memory. The fund supports Yiddish and Judaic Studies at the University of Manitoba. Why? Because his story has shaped who we are. And because his story represents many stories.

Our childhood memories of him are sparse. We remember that he seemed to love herring. We remember his resolute religious practice. And we especially remember him trying to control our running around his house during Passover Seders. We remember seeing him in "the shop". None of us remembers ever hearing him speaking English. In fact, for the almost 50 years that our grandfather lived and worked in Canada, he never learned to speak more than a few words of English. Any correspondence he received in a language other than Yiddish had to be read to him and translated; and he would sign his cheques with an 'X', as many in those days did. On election day his daughter Rosie would accompany him to the polling station, read him the instructions, and show where to place his "X". We recall very little of our Zayda expressing emotion — a broad smile in the photo taken at his youngest daughter's wedding, a raised voice at loud playing children, or tears welling up on seeing his granddaughter Hannah Rhina— who had been named after his beloved first wife.

Those tears really say it all. A reminder of loss. All of our immigrant ancestors came with a language, a village, a circle of childhood friends, a family, and a culture that were intrinsic to who they were, intrinsic to what they loved, and intrinsic, ultimately, to what they lost. Perhaps our grandfather's refusal to learn English was his way of desperately hanging on to what was familiar, what was fundamental to his being. His way of saying, "I have lost enough; I will not lose this." Our grandfather would be amazed today to see how his many descendants have flourished. Scattered across Canada and the United States, they have attained impressive success and even distinction in business, in the professions, and in various industries.

Hersch Leib Steiman and over two million other Jews left Russia because of anti-Semitism. Six million were later murdered in the Holocaust because they were Jewish, and with them their language and culture perished. Anti-Semitism had led to the loss of the Yiddish language and the culture of East European Jewry, which today no longer exists. While Yiddish is not likely ever again to become a living language for more than a minority, the preservation and fostering of what remains is incumbent on us all.

The Hersch Leib (Louis) Memorial Fund for University Yiddish and Judaic Studies will serve to preserve at last some of what was lost, both for its own sake as well as a living memorial to those who perished. Please visit www.jewishfoundation.org/hersch-leib-steiman-fund

2019