I am named after my great-grandfather who is the subject of this post.  Shnaer Zalman Duchman was my father’s mother’s father and by all accounts a very special individual.  He died well before I was born but I knew his daughter well.  Towards the end of her life my Auntie Nachama spent her summers with my family in Toronto and Huntsville.  I was her favourite for two reasons. 1. I’m named for her father and 2. I loved to listen to her stories of her life and the lives of my ancestors.  

She told me about being a seamstress in Eaton’s sweatshops.  In her heavy White Russian accent she’d tell me about my beloved city and family.  Best of all, she’d tell me about her father.  ”Shnaer” is an honourific title but he didn’t require that because he was a man of honour.  She used to tell me that her father had a twinkle in his eye and that he was very kind and gentle.  I always imagined him as an enormously loving and pious man. The pictures I’ve seen of him always show him dressed in traditional orthodox dress with a long grey beard.

Professionally, Shnaer Zalman was a shochet – a ritual slaughterer.  The Jewish laws of Kashruth say that for meat to be kosher it must be killed in a particular manner by a recognised shochet. About 100 years ago, my great-grandfather lived and worked at 112 Nassau Street in Kensington Market right next to the Devon Dairy.  When customers ask about my family heritage I always invoke his name and qualifications.  So I was intrigued when his grandson Lloyd came to the deli with his three sons and mentioned that there was a controversy surrounding Shnaer Zalman.  He didn’t know exactly what happened but it was bad enough that Shnaer Zalman’s sons (Lloyd’s father and uncle) became secular Jews – generally uninterested in religious observance at least to any degree close to their father’s.

I asked my father and my Uncle Melvyn and they filled in the details.  Turns out that among his other attributes, my great-grandfather was a Socialist.  As such, he attempted to organise a union among the kosher slaughterers at the Canada Packers plant that he also worked at.  The story goes that the company didn’t appreciate his efforts and in retaliation paid off someone on the Rabbinical Council so they would de-certify his status as a kosher butcher.  Melvyn told me there was a hearing, that he was indeed de-certified and that it was a sham.

More than just a fascinating if tragic slice of Toronto history, this story has bearing for me and for my customers. That story helped humanise an otherwise mystical figure in my life.  I am proud of who he was and what he did.  I am proud to bear his name.

And I will NEVER serve kosher food in my restaurant.

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