Restoring A Lost Jewish Heritage

Nevertheless, some Jewish refugees look back with nostalgia on Shanghai, if not its occupiers. At a reunion in April, former refugees told stories of growing up in Hongkou. All spoke bitterly of ""Mr. Ghoya,'' the eccentric and sometimes violent Japanese military officer who ruled the ghetto, but laughed at how the self-described ""King of the Jews'' was himself slapped by refugees when the war was over

Traces of the Jewish ghetto in today's Hongkou are as faded as the old delicatessen. The Vienna Shoe Store is a public toilet, the Broadway Theatre is the Shen Shen Restaurant. In the door frames of some old buildings, visitors can see nails that once held mezuzas, receptacles containing a passage from the Torah. Next to the ratty bookstore that was once the Ohel Moishe synagogue is what passes for a Jewish museum: two rooms with old photos of the refugees. ""In real life, I have little contact with Jewish people and culture,'' says Itska Imas, 51, a lifelong resident of Hongkou. His father was a Russian Jew who worked in Shanghai as a laborer and married a local girl. Disabled with polio, Imas passes his days in his modest apartment, a photo of his late father the only reminder of his past. ""But deep inside I have a feeling that I am a Jew,'' he says.

Above all, Shanghai's Jewish survivors still bless the city for giving them an escape from the Holocaust. ""We are really thankful to the Chinese people that we could survive here,'' says Heinz Grunberg, 65, who escaped to Shanghai from Vienna at the age of 5--and returned home after the war to become a renowned violinist with the Vienna Symphony. The guest book at the Jewish museum is filled with emotional expressions of gratitude. ""Thanks to the Chinese people, we were saved from the ovens in Germany,'' reads one. ""We will always remember!'' reads another. There is a Jewish blessing that goes, ""Blessed is he who performed a miracle for me in this place.'' For thousands of Jews, that place was Shanghai--and perhaps will be again one day.

© 1998