Early Memories Of Bayswater

And The New West End Synagogue

Geoffrey Green

On entering the New West End Synagogue again for The Wedding Reunion last May, and to be present at a service after many years, I went to my old seat number 216 which had also been my father's. I glanced up to my mother's vacant corner seat on the back row of the section furthest from the Ark. My mother had kept her membership from 1930 to 1996, when she died three months off her hundredth birthday.

It is said the early years of your life are very important. I think the first twenty mould one's character and outlook for what is to come. I was a baby in arms when my parents moved into 152, Westbourne Grove in 1930. My father, Dr Zellick (otherwise known as Jack or 'The General') Green had purchased a Long Lease and Goodwill of the Medical Practice from Dr A.J.Cronin, who was destined to become a well-known author. He based his fifth book The Citadel on 152 Westbourne Grove - 'A tall leaden hued house with surgery at the side and a brick garage behind'. He writes about 'The famous fashion house of Lauriers with a long line of elegant motor cars outside' which was of course Bradleys on the corner of Westbourne Grove and Chepstow Place. I was to walk past Bradleys on many occasions, with Mr Miller's famous haberdashery shop opposite, on past St. Lukes Hospital into Moscow Road. The United Dairies, with stabling for the horses in the mews, Greek Orthodox Church on the corner and right into St. Petersburgh Place. A glance up at the clock on St Matthew's Church, it was ten minutes past ten. Just in time for the Reading of the Law at the New West End Synagogue. It had taken about fifteen minute's walk from home. As a boy I tended to hold mother's arm, I do not think we ever held hands. Not long before she died Peggy Gluckstein, Reverend Ephraim and Annie Levine's daughter, told me how she remembered on occasions taking me to synagogue. This would have been about 1935.

I was taken to sit in the front near the Minister's seat, alongside Albert, Frank, Kenneth and Edward Levine, all of us under the eye of their father. I was in awe. I was approached by our beadle Mr Raphael Roth, who all the children cherished 'Geoffrey the Wardens would like you to dress the sepher torah'. I held back, those who know me now would not believe I was so shy, nervous and suffered from a slight stutter. 'Come on Geoffrey Mr Roth will help you'. So up I went on the bimah, with my short trousers, picked my socks up, and straightened my school cap (nobody wore a yarmulka). From the outset you were taught manners - decorum reigned supreme. I suspect I am not alone in thinking that our most enduring childhood recollection is on Simchat Torah with all the children on the bimah to receive the priestly blessing. I assure you no sweets were thrown in those days. Sabbath service always finished by noon, and there was not a kiddush every week. A drink of lemonade and home.

The synagogue has hardly changed, and obviously appeared smaller than in my young day. Most striking is the Ark's Curtain. It was of a plain pattern, deep crimson in colour. The foot stool is still on the bimah, which was used for Bar Mitzvah boys to stand on to reach the reading desk, and there was a buzzer connecting the wardens' box to where the beadle sat behind the bimah. We even had an assistant beadle, Mr Phillips, a kindly man, who always seemed so old to me.

The classrooms for the cheder were in the property adjoining the synagogue at 10, St Petersburgh Place. Here lived the Chazan, Reverend Isaac Goldston, and Mr Roth. We sat at individual desks in front of a backboard. I think we had a lady teacher, but I do not remember very much, regretfully I did not take to Hebrew easily. John Bluestone, the grandson of Reverend Goldston, was a contemporary of mine. As you can imagine he was the star pupil, and I certainly could not keep up with him. Mr Roth's children also attended, his daughter was a lovely girl and I well remember his two sons in my time. I think they all eventually went to Israel. Do not let me forget their mother, who acted as shamash for the ladies, sitting just inside the door to the ladies' gallery, always very attentive and quiet.

I enjoyed playing football and cricket in the cobbled mews during break. My main friends were Geoffrey Gross, whose father had a tobacconist shop in Westbourne Grove, and Peter Bird who lived in Bark Place. It must have been in 1937, just before my brother Melvin's Bar Mitzvah, that he thought of the idea of playing truant from Cheder, and persuaded me to go into Kensington Gardens and watch the soldiers changing guard at the building which housed the access to what I think was a munitions dump under the Serpentine. Our parents were waiting for us when we arrived home 'You have brought shame upon us - we are so well known in the community'. From that day on I never knowingly upset my mother and father. The celebration for Melvin's Bar Mitzvah took place in the Porchester Hall. What stood out for me was a smoked filled room, with numerous relations all playing cards. 'Today I am a fountain-pen' was the retort of many a Bar Mitzvah boy. I quaked to think in 1942 it would be my turn.

There were some landmark shops in Westbourne Grove. On the corner of Westbourne Grove and Chepstow Road was 'Arthurs Stores' - you could get virtually anything there. What intrigued many a boy was the cash railway, very noisy, speeding along wires above your head to disappear into a mysterious desk, only to fly back to the counter seconds later. Going toward Queensway was Elliott's shoe shop on the other corner; the photographic studio where I had to sit still and smile; Sainsbury's which had in front of the counters a packet of broken biscuits for a penny; the Roxy Cinema where mother would often go in the afternoon and have teas served to her during the interval; at number 70 The Central Bazaar, owned by a member of the New West End Synagogue for many years, who sold an abundance of china to the guest houses and small hotels in the area; another member Mr Harris ran the Bayswater Fruit Stores; a Ralph Bernstein had a general stores at 46; on the corner of Newton Road a ladies gown shop run by Sidney Bennett, with two fascinating mirrors set into the entrance; a school of dancing; a billiard hall; and I seem to remember a Jewish lady working in the window of the invisible menders; a little further down the Westhourne Park Building Society. At the corner, Samuel and Gluckstein, tobacconists. On the opposite side Joe Lyons, with another restaurant Pritchards a few doors away; William Whiteley's bargain arcade; Joseph Rubin a furrier at 87 and 89. Also, the not to be forgotten character at 121, John Dennis furniture dealer, with over his fascia 'And by the Grace of God his 10 children'. Last but not least, opposite my home, Aaron Cohen, shoe repairer, who always had a word for me to explain his machinery and tools. In later years the Alma Tavern had a Jewish licensee. On occasions mother and I would meet Mrs Annie Levine shopping as the family lived nearby on the corner of Pembridge Place and Pembridge Villas. 'Geoffrey stand still, and take your cap off!' Our Kosher Butcher was Mr Beach of Kensington Park Road, with an abundance of sawdust on the floor, situated close to Notting Hill Synagogue.

I seem to remember going to kindergartens in Dawson Place and Hereford Road, and then to Colet Court in Hammersmith, Preparatory School for St. Paul's, which a number of boys attended from the New West End Synagogue. Catching the 27 bus outside Mr Lewis' pianoforte shop in Pembridge Villas to get to school. I was ragged when changing for gym and football over my Tsitsith Kanfoth, and also punched when walking down the lines of boys at assembly when the Jewish boys went out for their own prayers. I like to think this was really a boyish prank, but I was otherwise to learn at an early age of antisemitism. I fancied myself as able to run over longer distances, so practised at every opportunity, as a way of getting back at my tormentors. On Sports Day I caught the cramp, so that was that! One of the boys in my class was the son of Len Harvey, the heavyweight boxing champion.

On Friday morning 1st September 1939 father took me by car to Danesfield, Medmenham, between Henley-on-Thames and Marlow where Colet Court was evacuated. For me, intermittently for the next ten years these partings went on with friends, relations and acquaintances With my contemporaries, I belonged to the 'Farewell Generation'. To this day I find good-byes to my close family so difficult. In effect it was like being at boarding school. The Jewish boys took it in turns to pump the organ during assembly prayers. We were taken on long walks, even now, staying in the countryside for a long period depresses me. I was homesick. My Aunt and Uncle were in Bourne End and it was decided I would live with them attending Borlase Grammar School in Marlow together with my brother and two cousins. We were the only Jewish Boys, and simply known as the 'London Evacuees'. I remember the small boats proceeding down the Thames for the Dunkirk evacuation, and my Uncle joining 'Dad's Army'. I am not certain why, but we all returned to London, to continue my schooling at Colet Cout in the air raid shelter adjoining.

Attending Sabbath service at the New West End Synagogue was now a shade of pre-war days. All Reverend Ephraim Levine's sons, and his son-in-law, were in the Army. There were of course so many changes. Food was short, virtually no sweets, and everything rather drab, no cricket or football to follow. In the late afternoon of the 7th September 1940 my grandfather saw mother and me on to the number 28 bus in the Golders Green Bus Station. There was a huge red glow in the sky. The London Docks and East End were alight. It was catastrophic. The night Blitz was about to begin. German aircraft droned overhead; our anti-aircraft guns made a reassuring devil of a din, without much success; incendiary bombs dropped next door; a stick of bombs fell very close to us in Pembridge Crescent smashing most of our windows, Mum was so frightened she tried to get under the bed, Dad placed his tin hat over her posterior, we all laughed. 'Make a cup of tea, Lily'. The 'all clear' sounded. Next day I was out with my friends picking up shrapnel, nose caps from anti-aircraft shells, and bits of bomb. I particularly remember the remains of a German aircraft in one of the trees in Observatory Gardens, opposite Queen Elizabeth College, Campden Hill Road. Mother was now in a nervous state, and it was decided I would spend the night with her down Notting Hill Gate Underground Station. The platform was crowded. 'Here is a spot Mum' only to soon realise the reason. We were outside the latrine! As we approached Westbourne Grove early next morning 'Geoffrey, look round the corner - is the house still there?' - 'Yes Mum, Dad's O.K.' one of my most enduring memories of the second world war.

Now started the second evacuation. At least I can say I was educated at Oxford. I went to live with my aunt and uncle again, attending the High School for Boys. My Bar Mitzvah was now looming, a Hebrew teacher appeared from nowhere, I did not make good progress. The blitz over, we returned to London. I attended St Clement Danes Grammar School in Ducane Road, on the number seven bus route from home. Reverend Isaac Goldston saw me in the small secretary's office, where it was soon discovered I could not manage the chosen portion. Second Day Shavuot on Saturday 23 May 1942 was picked out for the smallest portion of just eight lines to give us enough time to prepare. Came the day. I was trembling. There were my grandparents, some other relations, and not a very full synagogue. Above all, Reverend Ephraim Levine to bless me from the pulpit, and to receive the Singer's Daily Prayer Book, all edges gilt, with the best wishes of the congregation. One's most treasured possession. It was all over. Back home for lunch, a few presents, and I had my mainly non-Jewish friends in for tea. However, I did receive one early expensive present. Just before Doctor Meyer Young, of Shepherds Bush, a very old friend of the family, left for service in North Africa, he asked me what present I would like. Jane's Fighting Ships please. The cost three guineas, which must have blown a huge hole in his Army salary. It taught me never to ask a Bar Mitzvah boy what he would like as a present.

Next came the doodlebugs, and rockets in 1944. The year I played at Wembley, with Stanley (later Sir) Matthews helping England beat Scotland six goals to three. I was playing the bugle in the massed Sea Cadet Bands before and during half-time. The bandmaster was a Max Abrahams. I had joined the Kensington Sea Cadets, with my friends, where instruction was held in a Chepstow Villas property, later moving to Kensington Park Road. Will Hay star of 'Oh! Mr Porter' taught navigation. I can assure you it was no laughing matter. Everyone seemed to be in one uniform or another, and of course we now had the American Servicemen. Their service clubs were in the Bayswater Road, and many would attend the New West End Synagogue, particularly on the High Holidays.

The war was over, we all rejoiced. The New West End Synagogue came through after a bomb where the Herbert Samuel Hall now stands. Let us remember the members who did not return. Behind me sat Henry Spiro, son of Simon and Sara Spiro, of Notting Hill Gate, killed when HMS Firedrake was sunk by a U-boat, 17th December 1942.

The synagogue returned to normal with large overflow services held during the High Holidays in the Board Room, and additional chairs in front of the wardens box. Reverend Isaac Goldston had died, to be followed by Reverend Raphael Levy, and an era ended when Reverend Ephraim Levine retired. By the mid ninety-fifties the synagogue had a thriving club for the young, and not so young. Many a marriage was the result, including my own. We had lectures, and dances in the Board Room, with tables candle-lit. My parents had known Vera Sharpe for many years, whose father Reverend John Geffen was chazan before Reverend Isaac Goldston. Vera Sharpe encouraged the young people to meet in her flat at the back of Olympia, arranged by her daughter Valerie. It was there I was to meet a different Valerie.

I was still very quiet, until plucking up courage to eventually asking Valerie if she would come with me to the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich. I could not believe my luck, here was a Jewish girl who accepted. It was 6th February 1955. Valerie lived in Lancaster Close, the block of flats facing the New West End Synagogue. So the synagogue was still looking after me. Sometimes Mr Roth, to make up the minyan, would beckon when I called for Valerie. Particularly in the mornings when both of us were going to work in Ealing.

Valerie walked to our marriage on the 7th July1957. At least I was saved the cost of a car. It took the Minister Rabbi Louis Jacobs, Reverend Ephraim Levine, and Reverend Raphael Levy to perform the task. The latter had a very strong voice and nearly blew us out from under the chupah. We were both nervous, and at the very end I was still being told what to do. 'You can kiss the bride Geoffrey'. Valerie only offered me her cheek. I asked her afterwards why, 'I was not having you kiss me on the lips in front of all those people!'. The glass broke with a resounding crash, so at last I had performed one ritual in The New West End Synagogue properly.

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