Thank you, Julie, for posting this tribute to Irving. Irving and I went to grade school together, were in high school together (I especially remember him from Herr Anderson's and Fraülein Jebe's German classes, and strangely enough connected at the University of MN. I was married to a U of M professor at the time, whom Irving stopped by to see shortly before his tragic death. I shall always remember him as brilliant, talented, and -- what? Someone who had the capacity to profoundly touch those he met. May you rest in peace, Irving.
I remember Irving best from elementary school when we were all there together, Christine. The tragedy around his death stunned me, and I have never been able to reconcile it with the wonderful, funny kid I knew back then.
IIrving was the funnest, wittiest and outgoing of grade school gang. We all aspired to be aspopular as Irving or Bill Dahlen.
Since our high school days, I've had friends who have or had schizophrennic siblings. It seems to me that this was Irving's case -- not inherited and isn't detected before the mid-twent .
I wish I could have been at your Kaddish, Irving. I am among the mourners.
I think of Irving occasionally in Minneapolis. He, Carolyn Thoreson and I all worked at Southdale. We would meet at Woolworth’s for French fries and cokes. He had a clever sense of humor and actually a little in awe of him being so popular in High school. He was a normal nice guy and sad that he had so many demons. He was missed terribly then and still to this day, I remember him fondly.
Irving Binenstock made me laugh. And I love to laugh. Both of us went to Audubon Elementary School, but we didn’t get to know each other until we were in class together for the last year or two at Audubon. We became fast friends. Actually, we were a threesome of best friends: Bobby Gordon, Irving, and I. Bobby also made me laugh. For a few years, we were three musketeers.
Irving and Bobby and I loved to play touch football, especially three-on-three. We practiced pass patterns and had signals – for example, “bedroom” for buttonhook right and “cut leg” for cut left. Transparent but generally effective. One summer when we were 12 or 13, we challenged three college guys to a game down by Lake Calhoun (Bde Maka Ska now). We thoroughly trounced them. We must have completed 80 or 90 percent of our passes, many for touchdowns, and we defended well. Poor college guys! They didn’t know what hit them.
Many a Saturday, with a couple of dollars Irving’s mom gave him for the purpose, we went out to buy a frozen pizza, then baked it back at Irving’s house and feasted like kings. After that we watched some TV, went for a bike ride, played some pickup basketball at Audubon or touch football at a park, or all of the above. When we watched TV, it was usually sports or a Tarzan movie.
Sometimes after school we’d do our math homework together. I had the math reputation, but Irving was the clever one. Once to illustrate a point, I asked Irving, “If you had $12 and gave $4 to Bobby, how much money would you have then? He said $9. Irving, I said, you had $12 and gave away $4, how could you have $9 after that? Where did the other dollar come from? “My mother’s purse!” was his immediate reply.
I knew and loved Irving’s family, too, and especially his mother. Irving had one older brother, Mickey (Myron). Irving’s dad, Charles, a man of very few words (approximately none, actually, in my experience), was a tailor and owned his own shop. Irving’s mother, Rhoda – who had flaming red hair to match her name and never lacked for words – was one of the warmest, most loving persons in my life’s memory. And she was one of the best cooks and best bakers I’ve ever known. John, she said, please, try a piece of this cake (it was still warm; twist my arm!), and – how could it be? – a simple, yellow cake was … ambrosia. One day she had made fresh bagels and was cooking corned beef. John, she said, please try a bagel with some of this corned beef (twist my arm) – yum! Simple, no mustard, no other condiment, just corned beef on a bagel. For 50 years I have searched for the equal of that bagel and corned beef, never even coming close!
I loved Rhoda. She seemed to be a little hard on Irving, though. Whenever Irving said something impertinent, Rhoda would say to him, “Irving!” (She said his name with the v almost an f and the g almost a k: “Irfink!”) “Irfink! You should be struck down by lightning!” But actually I believed this censure was was too harsh to be meant seriously. It was just very funny to me.
Around the timeof Irving’s Bar Mitzvah, he taught me the Hebrew blessing over the wine. I can still recite that blessing in what I’ve been told is passably good Hebrew. It was ironic and possibly an omen that the only substantial bit of Hebrew I learned was the wine blessing, as some years later I came to see that I am an alcoholic (now sober and clean for 41 years). Irving invited me to his Bar Mitzvah, and I think I was the only non-Jew there. Irving read fluently from the Torah. And at the reception that followed, he and I sneaked a glass or two of wine.
Though we remained friends, Irving and I drifted apart during high school. In our senior year I dropped by his house one time to see him. He wasn’t home, but his mother asked me in. She said she wanted to talk with me, so I came in and sat down with her. She told me she was worried about Irving’s drinking. She really wanted to know if I drank, and if drinking was common among our schoolmates. When I told her I did drink and that a lot of other students at Southwest also drank, Rhoda was very relieved. I think she viewed my admission as a seal of approval for drinking (ironic again, in light of my alcoholism). Then Rhoda surprised me by suggesting we have a glass of wine! Twist my arm, I accepted. But the conversation then took a turn that surprised me again. Rhoda and Charles, I learned, were Holocaust survivors. They had survived internment in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. Rhoda said she survived on her humor. (Of course, that’s where Irving got it!) The German officers loved to listen to her extemporize in the evenings. A standup comedienne for free! Except, she wasn’t free, but a prisoner. Rhoda told me some heart-wrenching, horrifying stories, too, which I will not repeat here.
When I heard that Irving had died in 1972, I was shocked and deeply saddened. A great light had been snuffed out. I wrote a letter to Rhoda. Years later Irving’s cousin told me that my letter had meant a lot to Rhoda. I have long thought that Irving himself was a casualty of the Holocaust, but on a time delay. I am so sorry that Irving is gone.
Like many here Irving has always stood out in my memory as one of the funny and warm centers of our class. And one of the best dancers as I recall. Along with Denny (De La Salle?) he was legandary. Mostly I remember laughing and dancing with Irving. And talking. To my surprise he asked me if we could talk at one party, he said he had wanted to talk and some people suggested that I might be "a good person to talk to and that I might understand" ...as it was no secret that things were not so easy in my home either ... I was so surprised and touched that someone thought this. I remember going off with him and sitting on the floor in a stairwell while he told me some troubles he was having in his life. I felt honored that he would open up to me like this and pretty much just listened as I didn't really know what else to do. After that I felt a special bond with him, not that we talked a lot, just that we could if needed. I now understand that he had a lot of intellignence and guts to be able to do this at all, at this young age. I saw the man in him that evening. Now reading what John (another bright light in our class) says about his parents it makes sense. As a psychologist I have come to understand what a complicated and painful legacy that is. It makes me sad to know how much he was carrying around and also impressed with what a good guy he was through it, he was kind as I remember. But most of my memories with Irving are just so much fun, dancing, goofing around in my basement, sneaking up to the Minikahda swimming pool, (good choice for a reunion) laughing till doubled over. Bless you Irving you were an important member of our world.
Having read the insightful words posted about Irving, I found myself deeply saddened once again by Irving's story. I began contemplating the effects perhaps too many of us experienced being the children of those who were survivors and soldiers overseas during WWII. For Irving's family the effects must have been unspeakable knowing many lost their entire family. At B'Nai Emet Cemetery where Irving was laid to rest, there is a large monument near the main entry gate that is dedicated to the Memory of our Beloved who died among the Six Millions of our Jewish Brethren under Nazi Barbarism – Among hundreds of names are Binenstock, Shloimo & Chaja. Irving's parent's (who survived the concentration camps), names, as John mentioned, were Rhoda and Charles.
When we were growing up in the 50's in Minneapolis, all seemed nearly idyllic. But a few or more of us laughed bigger, cheered louder, and danced harder to mask the things going on at home - being physically interrogated by an WWII Army MP, emotionally abused by a parent with untreated PTSD, or for our Jewish classmates, living with parents who experienced the horrors of the Holocaust..
So, as we laugh and dance together this weekend, I will not forget Irving, dancer extrordinaire. I will also be mindful of the others, some of whom will attend, who paid a price for being the children of WWII as well.
John Erdmann thinking that "Irving himself was a casualty of the Holocaust, but on a time delay" is insightful. Here is a link to information with regard to the ongoing effects of Holocaust survivors and their offspring :
Reading all these comments, still makes me tear up. John’s story was heart warming and so like Irving, serious and funny. I also was aware of his parents past with a few private memories he shared. I still miss him terribly and was always a little in awe of him. It was high school and I assume I would be more at one these days in adulthood with him
Julie Peterson (Freeman)
Photo added by Cashline
Irving Binenstock
Christine Granbeck (Bart)
Thank you, Julie, for posting this tribute to Irving. Irving and I went to grade school together, were in high school together (I especially remember him from Herr Anderson's and Fraülein Jebe's German classes, and strangely enough connected at the University of MN. I was married to a U of M professor at the time, whom Irving stopped by to see shortly before his tragic death. I shall always remember him as brilliant, talented, and -- what? Someone who had the capacity to profoundly touch those he met. May you rest in peace, Irving.
Judith Fletcher (Fletcher)
I remember Irving best from elementary school when we were all there together, Christine. The tragedy around his death stunned me, and I have never been able to reconcile it with the wonderful, funny kid I knew back then.
Christine Granbeck (Bart)
IIrving was the funnest, wittiest and outgoing of grade school gang. We all aspired to be aspopular as Irving or Bill Dahlen.
Since our high school days, I've had friends who have or had schizophrennic siblings. It seems to me that this was Irving's case -- not inherited and isn't detected before the mid-twent .
I wish I could have been at your Kaddish, Irving. I am among the mourners.
Laurie Longeway (Reinertsen)
I think of Irving occasionally in Minneapolis. He, Carolyn Thoreson and I all worked at Southdale. We would meet at Woolworth’s for French fries and cokes. He had a clever sense of humor and actually a little in awe of him being so popular in High school. He was a normal nice guy and sad that he had so many demons. He was missed terribly then and still to this day, I remember him fondly.
Laurie Longeway Reinertsen
John Erdmann (Erdmann)
Remembrance of Irving Binenstock by John Erdmann
Irving Binenstock made me laugh. And I love to laugh. Both of us went to Audubon Elementary School, but we didn’t get to know each other until we were in class together for the last year or two at Audubon. We became fast friends. Actually, we were a threesome of best friends: Bobby Gordon, Irving, and I. Bobby also made me laugh. For a few years, we were three musketeers.
Irving and Bobby and I loved to play touch football, especially three-on-three. We practiced pass patterns and had signals – for example, “bedroom” for buttonhook right and “cut leg” for cut left. Transparent but generally effective. One summer when we were 12 or 13, we challenged three college guys to a game down by Lake Calhoun (Bde Maka Ska now). We thoroughly trounced them. We must have completed 80 or 90 percent of our passes, many for touchdowns, and we defended well. Poor college guys! They didn’t know what hit them.
Many a Saturday, with a couple of dollars Irving’s mom gave him for the purpose, we went out to buy a frozen pizza, then baked it back at Irving’s house and feasted like kings. After that we watched some TV, went for a bike ride, played some pickup basketball at Audubon or touch football at a park, or all of the above. When we watched TV, it was usually sports or a Tarzan movie.
Sometimes after school we’d do our math homework together. I had the math reputation, but Irving was the clever one. Once to illustrate a point, I asked Irving, “If you had $12 and gave $4 to Bobby, how much money would you have then? He said $9. Irving, I said, you had $12 and gave away $4, how could you have $9 after that? Where did the other dollar come from? “My mother’s purse!” was his immediate reply.
I knew and loved Irving’s family, too, and especially his mother. Irving had one older brother, Mickey (Myron). Irving’s dad, Charles, a man of very few words (approximately none, actually, in my experience), was a tailor and owned his own shop. Irving’s mother, Rhoda – who had flaming red hair to match her name and never lacked for words – was one of the warmest, most loving persons in my life’s memory. And she was one of the best cooks and best bakers I’ve ever known. John, she said, please, try a piece of this cake (it was still warm; twist my arm!), and – how could it be? – a simple, yellow cake was … ambrosia. One day she had made fresh bagels and was cooking corned beef. John, she said, please try a bagel with some of this corned beef (twist my arm) – yum! Simple, no mustard, no other condiment, just corned beef on a bagel. For 50 years I have searched for the equal of that bagel and corned beef, never even coming close!
I loved Rhoda. She seemed to be a little hard on Irving, though. Whenever Irving said something impertinent, Rhoda would say to him, “Irving!” (She said his name with the v almost an f and the g almost a k: “Irfink!”) “Irfink! You should be struck down by lightning!” But actually I believed this censure was was too harsh to be meant seriously. It was just very funny to me.
Around the timeof Irving’s Bar Mitzvah, he taught me the Hebrew blessing over the wine. I can still recite that blessing in what I’ve been told is passably good Hebrew. It was ironic and possibly an omen that the only substantial bit of Hebrew I learned was the wine blessing, as some years later I came to see that I am an alcoholic (now sober and clean for 41 years). Irving invited me to his Bar Mitzvah, and I think I was the only non-Jew there. Irving read fluently from the Torah. And at the reception that followed, he and I sneaked a glass or two of wine.
Though we remained friends, Irving and I drifted apart during high school. In our senior year I dropped by his house one time to see him. He wasn’t home, but his mother asked me in. She said she wanted to talk with me, so I came in and sat down with her. She told me she was worried about Irving’s drinking. She really wanted to know if I drank, and if drinking was common among our schoolmates. When I told her I did drink and that a lot of other students at Southwest also drank, Rhoda was very relieved. I think she viewed my admission as a seal of approval for drinking (ironic again, in light of my alcoholism). Then Rhoda surprised me by suggesting we have a glass of wine! Twist my arm, I accepted. But the conversation then took a turn that surprised me again. Rhoda and Charles, I learned, were Holocaust survivors. They had survived internment in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. Rhoda said she survived on her humor. (Of course, that’s where Irving got it!) The German officers loved to listen to her extemporize in the evenings. A standup comedienne for free! Except, she wasn’t free, but a prisoner. Rhoda told me some heart-wrenching, horrifying stories, too, which I will not repeat here.
When I heard that Irving had died in 1972, I was shocked and deeply saddened. A great light had been snuffed out. I wrote a letter to Rhoda. Years later Irving’s cousin told me that my letter had meant a lot to Rhoda. I have long thought that Irving himself was a casualty of the Holocaust, but on a time delay. I am so sorry that Irving is gone.
John Erdmann
September 1, 2018
Christian Barbatsis (Dayton)
Like many here Irving has always stood out in my memory as one of the funny and warm centers of our class. And one of the best dancers as I recall. Along with Denny (De La Salle?) he was legandary. Mostly I remember laughing and dancing with Irving. And talking. To my surprise he asked me if we could talk at one party, he said he had wanted to talk and some people suggested that I might be "a good person to talk to and that I might understand" ...as it was no secret that things were not so easy in my home either ... I was so surprised and touched that someone thought this. I remember going off with him and sitting on the floor in a stairwell while he told me some troubles he was having in his life. I felt honored that he would open up to me like this and pretty much just listened as I didn't really know what else to do. After that I felt a special bond with him, not that we talked a lot, just that we could if needed. I now understand that he had a lot of intellignence and guts to be able to do this at all, at this young age. I saw the man in him that evening. Now reading what John (another bright light in our class) says about his parents it makes sense. As a psychologist I have come to understand what a complicated and painful legacy that is. It makes me sad to know how much he was carrying around and also impressed with what a good guy he was through it, he was kind as I remember. But most of my memories with Irving are just so much fun, dancing, goofing around in my basement, sneaking up to the Minikahda swimming pool, (good choice for a reunion) laughing till doubled over. Bless you Irving you were an important member of our world.
Julie Peterson (Freeman)
Having read the insightful words posted about Irving, I found myself deeply saddened once again by Irving's story. I began contemplating the effects perhaps too many of us experienced being the children of those who were survivors and soldiers overseas during WWII. For Irving's family the effects must have been unspeakable knowing many lost their entire family. At B'Nai Emet Cemetery where Irving was laid to rest, there is a large monument near the main entry gate that is dedicated to the Memory of our Beloved who died among the Six Millions of our Jewish Brethren under Nazi Barbarism – Among hundreds of names are Binenstock, Shloimo & Chaja. Irving's parent's (who survived the concentration camps), names, as John mentioned, were Rhoda and Charles.
When we were growing up in the 50's in Minneapolis, all seemed nearly idyllic. But a few or more of us laughed bigger, cheered louder, and danced harder to mask the things going on at home - being physically interrogated by an WWII Army MP, emotionally abused by a parent with untreated PTSD, or for our Jewish classmates, living with parents who experienced the horrors of the Holocaust..
So, as we laugh and dance together this weekend, I will not forget Irving, dancer extrordinaire. I will also be mindful of the others, some of whom will attend, who paid a price for being the children of WWII as well.
John Erdmann thinking that "Irving himself was a casualty of the Holocaust, but on a time delay" is insightful. Here is a link to information with regard to the ongoing effects of Holocaust survivors and their offspring :
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/descendants-of-holocaust-survivors-have-altered-stress-hormones/
Laurie Longeway (Reinertsen)
Reading all these comments, still makes me tear up. John’s story was heart warming and so like Irving, serious and funny. I also was aware of his parents past with a few private memories he shared. I still miss him terribly and was always a little in awe of him. It was high school and I assume I would be more at one these days in adulthood with him
. Miss you lots, Irving.