"A Roshekol is the head of a congregation," I answered. He laughed a gentle, chuckling laugh, which was the usual expression of good temper with him, and said:
"A Roshekol is a disagreeable fellow."
"But not always, Herr Eichelkatz?"
"Almost always, at least if you get your idea of him from the rabbi and the cantor, nebbich, or even from the Khille in general. He is generally arrogant, disputatious, autocratic, and ambitious. As he hasn't anything else to rule, he wants to rule the congregation at least, and he insists the poor officials shall depend upon his good-will entirely. He suffers no contradiction, and as for the opinion of another, it doesn't occur to him that it is entitled to any respect. He commands and the others must agree with him. For they are nearly all dependent upon him, and, therefore, are either for or with him. On the one side is his Mishpocheh, on the other, people who stand in business or personal relations with him. If he happens to have a so-called academic education, matters are still worse, because on the strength of it he and the Khille as well put on an extra touch of pride. He has some standing in the city, too, is on good terms with the Goyim, and is generally a city alderman. This makes a tremendous impression on the Khille, and it doesn't occur to the Narronim that they themselves made him alderman. They say with pride: 'Our Roshekol must be a very intelligent man; he's an alderman also!' The Roshekol, it is true, usually is an intelligent person; but he lacks character and genuine goodness and humanity. It's all on the surface—fine phrases, long words, but within cold, hollow, and calculating. All he thinks of is to show himself off in the best light and hurt other people's feelings."
I shook my finger at Simon laughingly and said:
"Reb Shimme, I think you are looking at things through dark spectacles; they can't be so bad as you paint them."
"Just live in a Khille fifty years, and you'll know whether or not I'm exaggerating. If you'd have known the president of the congregation, Krakauer, Doktor Krakauer, saving your reverence, you'd have said at least what I say, that a Roshekol is a disagreeable fellow. Perhaps you'd have said even more. Lots of people in the Khille were vexed at his treatment of the poor officials, nebbich, and made a fist at him behind his back. But they were too weak to do anything. I, too, Herr Kreisphysikus. What can a single person do? But when I think of it even now, my gall rises."
"Now, now, my dear Reb Shimme, if you excite yourself, I won't allow you to speak one word about it." I tried to soothe him.
"Why? If one speaks from the heart, it doesn't hurt. Just let me tell you quietly about Herr Doktor Krakauer, saving your reverence. I won't make it a reproach against him that he came of a thoroughly ordinary family. There are many Jews of low extraction who work themselves up into a fine, noble manhood. Besides, if we recall our common stock, everyone is justified in regarding himself as a nobleman of the most ancient lineage. But then one should act accordingly, which most of us unfortunately fail to do. Herr Doktor Krakauer, saving your reverence, certainly did not behave like a nobleman. His father was a dealer in raw hides in Peiskretscham, an industrious, decent sort of a Jew, who couldn't read or write. His mother was a simple woman, formerly the cook at Herr Bernhard Markus's. They were not young when they married, and when a son was born to them, they were overjoyed. They decided to make something remarkable of the child. The parents now had only one aim, and the boy, who was a studious pupil, made it possible for them to fulfil their desire. He was to study, become an educated, learned gentleman, a doctor. Whatever the dealer in raw hides and his wife lacked, was to appear in the son, and more, too. And they lived to experience the joy of seeing him ashamed of them. After he had taken up the profession of physician, and had received positions of trust in the city and the congregation, he was very careful to keep the dealer in raw hides and the Jewish cook hidden away. He was their son on the quiet and in secret. To be known as their son might have hurt him in the eyes of the world, and reflect on his public position. So the two old people, who had worked untiringly day and night to put their only child on a higher level than themselves, could watch the results of their efforts only from afar. For his greed, his energy, his cunning, and his disregard of other people had actually advanced him to a dazzling height. He married into a well-to-do family; but the girl was so shy and stupid that she yielded to his autocratic will, in constant terror lest she displease him.
"Now, then, Herr Kreisphysikus, imagine such a man a Roshekol for years. He oppressed and injured the whole Khille; it didn't have the courage to oppose him. Everyone trembled before him. The old janitor of the synagogue, the Shabbes Goy Marek, who died last year, always used to say: 'When Krakauer comes to Shul, holding his head so high you'd think he was trying to bump against the Mogen Dovid, and expanding his chest as if to beat for Al Chet upon it, the whole Khille trembles, because he's so swell and eats Trefa, and treats the people like cattle.' Marek was right, he was a sensible man. And more than the members of the Khille, nebbich, those who were dependent upon him trembled before him. But two people did not tremble, Rabbi Doktor Merzbach, who was too aristocratic by nature, and still less, the 'haughty Rebbetzin,' who openly called Doktor Krakauer an upstart, and returned his greeting so condescendingly that he always took the other side of the street when he saw her coming. By way of return he never failed when the occasion offered to do harm to the rabbi and wound his feelings.