The rave dancer at Gidon’s wedding 10 years ago (aged only 87).
The man who continued to learn into his 90’s, taking up computing and Skype when he was an octogenarian, and attempting to learn Polish from one of the carers at Sydney Corob House.
The woodworker, furniture builder, repairer.
A pioneer and farmer as well as a political activist and intellectual pedant.
The man who in over 50 years of marriage, never noticed he was eating his meals in a 7 day repeating cycle.
The man who glowed with pride at the achievements we, his children (Jon and Peter included), 6 grandchildren and great grandchildren made, and had no qualms at boasting of his great grandchildren and their incredible travels and growth. We were one of his proudest legacies.
It is daunting to attempt to tell his story. First of all because he would want to correct me constantly, and secondly it is simply the most incredible story. Somehow he managed to not just live through the most defining moments of 20th Century Jewish history, but he was a part of them, driving them, doing his little, and not so little, bit.
His death marks the end of an era. He was the second oldest of 4 brothers, Lou, Sid, and Cyril, all of whom sadly died before him. The research done by Janice, one of Michaels nieces, has shown that the brothers maternal family have been in the
UK since the seventeenth century, only shortly after the readmission of the Jews to England, and were of Spanish descent.
The brothers grew up in the poverty of the East End, and when invited to talk about life in Whitechapel to my Cheder students, they were utterly astonished that he could have lived with one water pump for the street, an outside lav, and public baths. And of course living in the
East End between the two World Wars, a teenage Grandpa was there on Cable Street in 1936, when the blackshirts marched. He proudly recalled that when the mounted police ranks approached, protecting Mosley’s fascists, he and his friends threw marbles down the street, making the horses fall; a shocking revelation to a vegetarian teenage me, but an act he was very proud of: The Battle of Cable Street is now considered the point at which British Fascism was nipped in the bud, unlike in Europe.
Michael and Muriel, who was his rock and love for over 50 years, met on the David Eder Farm in Kent, preparing them to be pioneers in Palestine, and they were married, initially just civilly until Muriel’s mother insisted they return to Leeds for a proper Chuppah - and looking at the photos you would never know it was organised in a week! This allowed them to travel together to the British Mandate of Palestine as chalutzim. Michael worked as a civilian Admiralty Officer with the Royal Navy in Haifa and it was also during this period that Norma was born, in the land Muriel and Michael adored, and that Norma would return to to build her own family. Before Lana’s birth the family returned to
London. She was still a toddler when they returned to the British Mandate, and in 1948, when the State of Israel was declared, and then immediately attacked, Michael was a member of an infantry brigade in the Machal. He was part of the failed attempt to take Latrun- an experience that was clearly traumatic and moulded his politics and his passion to defend Israel.
But despite placing his life at risk for the sake of
Israel, it was not a place that the family were destined to stay. Back in the UK, Michael didn’t rest on his laurels! He trained and worked as a teacher, becoming head of languages having spent time while teaching taking a degree in Russian - qualifying in 3 years in what was a 4 year course. On the side he also taught wood and metal work. He also spoke Hebrew, French, German, Spanish, (which he was able to adapt into Portuguese and Italian) and had a smattering of German and Arabic. I was sadly not blessed with these language genes, but his great granddaughters Mia, Arielle and Dafnie are tri-lingual, and together with Danya, Olivier, Noa, Daniel and Yonatan are heart broken not to be here today.
After learning about the plight of Jewry in what was then the
Soviet Union, Grandpa was utterly outraged and insisted something be done. He was a founding member of the 35’s who campaigned throughout the 1970’s and 80’s for justice and the release of soviet Jews. The term, ‘Refuseniks’ was, in fact, coined by Michael, and he became instrumental in keeping in touch through regular phone calls to Sharansky, Ida Nudel, and many others. Last December, Sharansky presented him with a certificate of gratitude and acknowledgment before a packed Limmud lecture hall, and described him as the ‘Internet of the Refuseniks'. So prolific were his activities on behalf of the trapped Russian Jews that when a photo of him was uncovered in a refuseniks home, showing him on the phone to someone in the USSR, it was pasted across Russian news bulletins, claiming to show a dangerous British Zionist ‘Lord Sherbourne’ who was working to undermine Soviet glory. I firmly believe he should have been a Lord, but this has sadly never been acknowledged here, only in the USSR!
In 2009 Laura Bialis made a documentary about the world wide phenomenon that was the Jewish support for the Refuseniks. Michael was honoured to be included and she wrote to me last night saying:
“I am overwhelmed with emotion ... Every time I met Michael, I felt that I was in the company of a legendary hero. He was so courageous, such a fighter. He did so much for the Jewish people and
Israel. I truly felt it was a honor to get to interview him”.
It is so important that some honouring is done while people are alive, and I’m glad that so many, from Sharansky and Rabin to his own family and neighbours, were able to have the opportunity to express to our hero how appreciated he was. The challenges of a long life were not few, and the last months had been particularly challenging for Grandpa. We are told by the incredible staff at Sydney Corob House that last Friday, Grandpa was delighted to make Kiddush for the whole house, and took the opportunity to make a small speech, saying how glad he was to be there. He was joking (and knowing Grandpa flirting) with the carer who saw him shortly before he peacefully departed, and he, perhaps more than anyone, has most certainly earned his rest.
We all, Norma, Lana, Peter, Danya, Ian, Gidon, Sara, Sarit and I, as well as his adopted grandchildren, Noa and Emma, Olivier and Gary, are grateful to so many friends and family, who visited regularly, shopped, and listened. Special mention must be made of all the cousins, as well as Esther and Edwin Shuker, who have been such devoted fans and carers, as well as Petra, Susan, and of course all the staff at Sydney Corob House.
Grandpa, you are leaving a wide, gaping hole in all our lives, but we are so much more complete for having had you these many years, and you have, literally, changed the world. May we be able to continue your legacy by fighting for freedom, and making jokes (however inappropriate) wherever possible.