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1 t's a hazy afternoon in St. Ignace, a town just
north of the Mackinac Bridge. On a wooden
veranda overlooking Lake Michigan, 77-
year-old Marvin Winkelman recalls his glo-
ry days.
Back in the 1950s, the city's only Jewish
family tried to influence local politicians with
the simple reminder that it, after all, repre-
sented 100 percent of the Jewish vote.
That clout diminished by half when Lawrence Rubin
moved into town and became a key player in the Mack-
inac Bridge project. Both Mr. Winkelman and his wife,
Doris, as well as Mr. Rubin, have remained true to their
maverick identities, despite temptation to assimilate.
"It's very hard for Jews up here," Mr. Rubin says. 'The
hardest thing about being Jewish? It's being Jewish."
The problem isn't anti-Semitism. Most Jews in the
UP hear an occasional "Jew 'em down," but they attribute
the slip to ignorance, not malevolence.
Rather, Jews in St. Ignace and elsewhere throughout
the UP struggle to avoid a drift toward the cultural main-
stream. No synagogue exists in St. Ignace. The closest
services take place across the bridge in Petoskey.
Bagels? Besides Lender's and a couple other frozen
brands, there aren't any. The Winkelmans laugh
about bringing literally 25 dozen home from trips to
Detroit.
Down south is where to find the trolls, the people liv-
ing under (or south of) the famed Mackinac Bridge. Un-
like Jewish UPers (JUPers), trolls enjoy life in a
veritable holy land. For starters, they have bagels. And
lox. Far more significantly, there are rabbis and JCCs.
There's a Jewish Federation, mid-week Hebrew class-
es, day camps and schools. None of that exists in the
UP.
On Christmas, the vast majority of townspeople in St.
Ignace celebrate at church, leaving Mr. Rubin and the
Winkelmans with a distinct feeling of being different.
Unlike their West Bloomfield counterparts, these JU-
Pers cannot usher in the Yuletide at a few packed Chi-
nese restaurants.
Being a Jew in the UP is sometimes lonely, but not
necessarily bad, they say. Gentile friends and church
groups have invited them to lead Passover seders. Mr.
and Mrs. Winkelman belong to the Kiwanis Club, mem-
bers of which always prepare chicken and steak for them
when the others are eating pork.
"We are recognized as Jewish people and we're re-
spected for it," Mr. Winkelman says. "We have no prob-
lems."
Decades ago, when his parents kept strict kosher, Mr.
Winkelman remembers the roving slaughterer who
would arrive by ferry, then venture by train onward to
other small Jewish communities in the UP and north-
ern Wisconsin.
Mr. Winkelman also recalls how his father always
closed the family store during High Holidays, and how
his parents sent him south to Manistique, where his
grandparents helped him prepare for his bar mitzvah
ceremony.
Later, when Mr. Winkelman became a father himself,
he hired an out-state mohel to travel all the way to St.
Ignace and perform the circumcision on his son. Mr. Ru-
bin went to similar lengths. When his own boy was near-
ing age 13, father and son made frequent, 230-mile trips
to a Lansing-based Hebrew tutor.
Today, their observance has lessened. Most of the
Winkelman and Rubin children are not practicing Jews,
yet their elders still light candles on Shabbat and have
been active in the Petoskey congregation.
I
n Sault Ste. Marie, where ships from around the
world traverse the northern straits, five Jews gath-
er quietly at Kinross Correctional Facility to wel-
come Shabbat.
Conducting the service is East Coast native Gilbert
Cymbalist, 50, who along with his wife, Ginny, belongs
to Beth Jacob Synagogue on the Canadian side of Sault
Ste. Marie. Every other week the couple volunteers to
bring Judaism to prison.
"Back in Philadelphia, I was Jewish because I be-
longed. I didn't have to work at it," Mr. Cymbalist says.
"Here, we've had to work at it. I've done a bris."
He makes a face.
"I'd rather do a wedding. We're waiting for a Jewish
wedding," he says.
The Cymbalists met 25 years ago when Gilbert moved
to Sault Ste. Marie for service in the U.S. Air Force.
They've reared two children, Andy and Ben, and on Fri-
days, the family lights candles and eats Shabbat dinner