Close Op
Left: Benno Levi with his
wife, Ruth, today: Still in
Oak Park, still a liberal.
Those Fabulous,
■ ■
Fearful
ASSOCIATE EDITOR
ELIZABETH APPLEBAUM
Below: The Levis and
their four children in the
late 1950s, with Sputnik
overhead somewhere.
I 'fi t I eS
THE DETRO IT JEWISH NEWS
When hairspray was king, Oak Park was it, and
black-and-white TV brought the terrible news of Sputnik.
t was a name no American wanted to
hear: Sputnik.
On Rosh Hashanah, 1959, Benno
Levi and his wife, Ruth, were living in
Oak Park, a bustling new suburb
where life just couldn't get any better.
There were swimming pools and great
neighbors, a new Jewish Community
Center and Young Israel of Oak-
Woods, the first suburban synagogue
in the country.
But Mr. Levi couldn't think of any
of that now. Like everyone else in the
world, he had just learned that the
Russians had successfully launched
into space a craft called Sputnik. It
happened over Rosh Hashanah, and
would for a long time mark the days
following.
"The feeling everywhere was terri-
ble, just terrible," Mr. Levi says. "The
Russians had beaten us."
News of Sputnik capped off a decade
in American history marked by tur-
moil: the Rosenberg trial, the Korean
War, anti-Semitism and Joe Mc-
Carthy.
A liberal (he still bears the title with
pride), a Jew and a former veteran,
Benno Levi would have a taste of them
all.
He had married the daughter of
family friends, and by the end of the
1950s the couple had four children.
Benno worked first at the DSR, De-
troit's Department of Street Railways,
and later at a mortgage company;
Ruth was a homemaker.
In the mid-1950s, the Levis were
among the first Jews to move from De-
troit to Oak Park.
"Oak Park was the place to be, the
crown jewel of the metropolitan corn-
munity," Mr. Levi says. "All the yup-
pies were there. Just down the street
from us was where the son of a major
developer lived. There were leading at-
torneys and the best schools and parks.
A house cost between $15,000 and
$25,000."
By the late 1950s all the homes were
all filled.
"People were pouring in," Mr. Levi
recalls. "Nobody even had heard of
West Bloomfield. An acre there cost
$1,000."
The Levis lived on Kenton in Oak
Park and attended services at Young
Israel of Oak-Woods. "It was way out
in the sticks," Mr. Levi says. "Every-
body was active at the shul, and High
Holy Day services were so crowded
they had to expand the building right
away."
As they looked forward to a new
year, so, too, did the Levis imagine a
new decade of endless and wonderful
possibilities. It would be a future of
peace and brotherhood and neighbor
helping neighbor, all those catchy
themes that would fill so many songs
less than 10 years later.
But it started off terribly.
The Korean War began in 1950.
Benno Levi learned the news as he was
heading off on a picnic with Ruth.
"I was depressed, deeply," he says.
"Have you ever been in a black de-
pression? This is what I was experi-
encing."
Mr. Levi had served with American
forces during World War II. During
the war, he says, "we were told we
were all together, happy united na-
tions. Russia was our ally. There would
be world peace. Not only did we believe
it, we wanted it so deeply."
News of the Korean War was espe-
cially painful for veterans, Mr. Levi
says. "We all thought, 'Oh no, here we
go again.' We dreaded the thought."
For members of the Jewish com-
munity, the beginning of the decade
was marked by another anguish: the
trial of Ethel and Julius Rosenberg.
In 1951, the two were convicted of
spying for the Russians and sentenced
to death in the electric chair. Benno
Levi remembers the afternoon before
the electrocution.
"I was riding home with an attorney
on a Friday afternoon and he was so
mad; I mean he was really mad. We
were waiting for Eisenhower to do
something because he had the ability.
But he didn't do a thing.
"I remember thinking, 'Some day ni
send him a letter and remind him of
what he did.' He died before I could do
it, though.
"We all thought the Rosenbergs
were innocent," Mr. Levi says. "We
were embarrassed because they were
Communists and sympathetic to Rus-
sia, but we knew the evidence against
them was trumped up."
In fact, history would show that the
Rosenbergs were, without a doubt,
guilty of spying for the Soviets, though
their punishment was remarkably
harsh. But then, anti-Semitism was
common in 1950s America.
"I had one friend, an advertising ex-
ecutive with a leading firm. He didn't
have a Jewish-sounding name," Mr.
Levi recalls. "Just before Rosh
Hashanah he went to his supervisor
and asked for time off. He explained it
was a Jewish holiday.
`"A Jewish holiday?' the supervisor
asked."
It wasn't long before Mr. Levi's
friend was looking for a new job.
Those were the days when the term
"liberal" was a badge of honor, Mr. Levi
says. "When you were a liberal you
were against those anti-Semites, those
hypocrites and big mouths."
Of course, you didn't want to let just
anyone know about your liberal lean-
ings.
"Because of McCarthyism, I was
afraid at work," Mr. Levi says. "I had
to be careful of what I said. You could
be accused by anyone of being a 'fellow
traveler.'
"It happened once to me. In a tent
in the South Pacific, during World War
II, I was with a bunch of guys and one
said, 'Just wait until this is over. Then
we'll have to fight the Russians.'
`"What do you want to fight the Rus-
sians for?' I said. 'After all, they are our
allies.'"
Though never arrested, because of
that remark Mr. Levi would hear him-
self labeled a "Commie."
Benno Levi is looking through old
photo albums, filled with pictures of
girls in horn-rimmed glasses and men
in bow ties. Moments ago he shud-
dered at the thought of the 1950s. But
as he considers the photos, they be-
come good, gentle years.
"The (Jimmy Prentis Morris) Jew-
ish Community Center was just being
built," he says. "I remember somebody
donated an Air Force plane that was
put right beside — of course, there
were no Federation Apartments back
then. The children loved to climb on it.
They used it as a playground.
"Where the car wash is now (at the
corner of Ten Mile and Greenfield)
there was a farmhouse, which Rabbi
Yisroel Flam bought. He immediate-
ly had a minyan there."
Everybody watched TV, like "Dave
Garroway's 'Today' Show," 'The Mick-
ey Mouse Club," "The Soupy Sales
Show" and dramas in the evening.
News came from the radio. Mr. Levi
stayed up until 2 a.m. in October 1956,
listening to a United Nations debate
on the Sinai Campaign.
More often than not dinner at home
was roast or some other meat, which
you could buy from the butcher who
periodically came to load the freezer,
a man who himself dined only on cu-
cumbers and tomatoes. Ruth Levi al-
ways had an apple and piece of cheese
for lunch. (Today, she's devoted to
healthy eating. The thought of a chunk
of cheese positively makes her cringe.)
And how about a cigarette to top it off?
When you had a free day you could
go to the zoo or to Belle Isle, unless the
High Holidays were approaching.
Then you had to head off to Hudson's
downtown to buy some of those keen
shoes with pointed toes, or maybe walk
around with a bottle of hairspray glu-
ing your locks together into one of those
oh-so-hip beehive 'dos.
And on Friday night, there was
nothing like a quiet walk with a pal.
"Every Friday night a friend and I
would go for a long walk, then return
home for tea and cake," Mr. Levi re-
members. "Those were wonderful
years."
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