(Attributed to Z. Alroy)
The road of civilization as developed by the inhabitants of this globe is, on the surface, a short one. Originating in the caves, it proceeded to the village, from the village to the town, from the town to the city and – in its present form – from the city to the residential section.
Life is probably the same as it was when it started; it is new forms, added comforts and increased beauty that history has accomplished.
In the early records of this process of building, usually laconic, the ancients never failed to add to the record of this or that hero that he “lived . . . had children and ‘Va liven Iir’ (and he built a city).”
The building of a city was a milestone in the progress of this globe’s population.
The Jewish people in Palestine, as well as in their later wanderings over the various continents, have been builders, if not of cities, which they were not often permitted to engage in, at least of quarters, later to be known as ghettos, of synagogues and of commercial enterprises and industries. This circumstance resulted in an impression, which was quickly picked up by the anti-Semites, that the quality of the Jew is not in creating or in building, but in making use of things already built.
The latest chapter in Jewish history, which is unfolding before our eyes today, the achievements of American Jews, is a striking example of the lack of foundation of such an opinion. The record of the achievements of many Jewish men in the development of American sections and cities, investing huge capital in improving land properties and turning forests and the wilderness into places of habitation, awaits intensive study and an able pen. It beggars description.
This charge which was forwarded against Jews in general has been stressed in particular against East European Jewry. This prejudice found expression not only in the Immigration Act of the United States, but also in several undeveloped countries which have set up barriers against those immigrants who are not, as the Secretary of Labor recently termed it, of the “beaver type.”
A testimony to just this “beaver type” is the life story of Isaac Meister, builder of American Venice.
The treasurer of the Zionist Organization of America began his career in a manner similar to that of tens of thousands of his people. Born in Teplik, in the dark Ukraine, where he grew to manhood, in a vicinity where brick houses are rare and well-paved roads are not to be trodden upon, where elementary education was the privilege of the few, Isaac Meister, a young man, attracted by tales of America, went, unaccompanied, to the new world.
Singlehanded, he made his way in the new environment. Starting as a laborer and jewelry peddler, he soon discovered America for himself and, without jewels to finance his project, but equipped with powers of observation, enterprise, and honesty of purpose, he concentrated on that which many previous generations had been kept from, on developing and building.
Many a high structure that supports the symmetry of New York’s skyline, many a virgin forest in which the traces of the Indian tribes were still discernible, were transformed into places of habitation through the efforts of Isaac Meister.
Trading in real estate in the United States today is no longer a new enterprise. Projects for development and opening up new districts for the branching out of the urban population is common. While serving, no doubt, a necessary need and creating new values highly desirable from the communities’ viewpoint, they do not contribute anything substantially new. The builders of the old cities had this distinction that they were comprehensively planned and each locality was given a peculiar touch of its own in conformity with the geological and ethnological conditions, so the structures which were raised on the new sites represented a new style or followed a particular shade of an old style in architecture, thus creating new values in art and beauty, in addition to utility.
Isaac Meister had a new idea. It was not enough for him to open up a district or to erect a new skyscraper. He looked for a development with an idea of its own.
On his way to Palestine, he stopped off in Italy. For centuries the saying “See Venice and die” has been quoted. Meister, headed for Palestine, went to see Venice with not the slightest intention of dying. He wanted to see Venice and live and not only live himself but to let others live in Venice. There the idea came to his mind: why not an American Venice?
Venice, the beautiful, was the result of its own geographical situation. How could there be an American Venice without a similar situation? The enterprising Meister is not afraid of geography. Zionism is a fight against geography, Dr. Weizmann has said. Why cannot a Zionist builder fight geography on Long Island?
The corner strip of land on Long Island on the shores of South Bay presented the opportunity to him. Water was on two sides of the site of the future city. All that was necessary was an investment of millions of dollars, the making of canals similar to those in Venice, the erection of bridges in Venetian style, the placing of Venetian gondolas in the canals. With thirty years of experience in developing American land, with directness of purpose and constructive ability, Isaac Meister proceeded to the task. American Venice [Copiague] is now a reality.
Some have been fond of referring to the Jew with a hint at “The Merchant of Venice.” They will have to change. Here is the builder of American Venice.
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