The Jose Hess Diamond Engagement Ring. 0-4 Bud's Wiser Drink up, Jews! Beer has been on our menu for ages. ELIZABETH APPLEBAUM ASSOCIATE EDITOR 4C's; Cut, Color, Clarity and Carat Weight - Your guide to dic mond quality. lir! lli(iiirc Si Ht . (' 1919 30400 Telegraph Road Suite 134 Bingham Farms ANNETTE'S UNI UE BOUTI UE AS cialti Sho ie Caterin to Women's Intimate F ashion Needs Q: Growing up, I heard a lot of stories about European anti-Semi- tism. Although I guess anything is possible, I always found it hard to believe one thing I heard, that Jews once were forbidden to marry. Could it be true? A: It certainly is true, and it occurred in 18th-century Aus- tria-Hungary. In 1726-27, Holy Roman Em- peror Charles VI introduced laws to control the size of the Jewish population in the provinces of Bohemia, Moravia and Silesia. The laws were called Familiantengesetze ("Fa- miliants laws"). They fixed the number of Jewish families that could exist in each of the three above-mentioned provinces. All told, it was about 13,600. According to the system, no Jew could marry and start a family unless he had a "family number." Such numbers were assigned to the heads of fami- lies when the law was first es- tablished. After the death of a family head, his eldest son could inherit the number, but only after the son was 24. Younger brothers were not per- mitted a number unless their older brother died. Men who had only daughters were out of luck altogether. After they died, their numbers were retired. In spite of the fact that vio- lators of the laws could be flogged, many Jews had secret marriages. They were forced to register their children, who were obligated to use their mothers' last names, as illegit- imate. In addition, Jews were per- mitted to reside only in places where they had lived before 1726. As a result, huge num- bers of Jews were made per- manently homeless, forced to wander about the countryside, often subsisting on begging. The revolution of 1848 put a practical end to the laws, but they were not formally repealed until 1859. Q: My name is Bud and the oth- er day I was hanging at Jim-Bob's Bar and Grill. A lot of us guys are there, guys who love picnics and walks in the moonlight and send- ing flowers to that special some- one — hey, you didn't realty believe me now, did you? Give me some beef jerky and a bowling ball any day! Anyway, I'm sitting there when in walks the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I mean the ice in my drink was melting as soon as she got near. And what do I see; what do I see. She's wearing a Star of David necklace. Hey, I am Jew- ish, too, I tell her. But she is unim- pressed. Of course I'm eager to show her that, in addition to being all man in the body department, I have brains! So I invited her for a beer. But do you know what happened? She turns around, walks away and tells me, "Jews do not drink beer." Tell Me Why, I am certain many men out there are in my same predicament. Please, offer us some useful advice on how to handle these situations. A: My friend, you have come to the right place. Here, at last, is the answer to the age-old myth that Jews don't drink beer. There is ample historical ev- idence that our ancestors drank beer. The most common form of beer is made from barley, which grew wild in ancient Israel. The brewing of beer was common in the ancient Near East. In fact, there is archaeological evidence that beer made from malted grain was brewed in Mesopotamia by 6000 BCE. The art of brewing also was practiced in ancient Egypt. Modern brewers believe two- row barley makes the best beer. The wild barley that grows in the Land of Israel is thought to be the ancestral form of two- row barley. Contemporary breweries make beer by cooking the bar- ley malt and later fermenting it with yeast. The ancient Jews made beer by soaking the bar- ley until it sprouted, and then ground it. Next, they added yeast and molded the mixture into cakes, which were partial- ly baked. The cakes were crum- bled, put into jars of water and left to ferment. Unlike many of their neighbors, the Jews added hops, which helped to preserve and partly clarify the beer. The final product was a dark, cloudy beverage (modern beer is made clear through storage and fil- tration). Any papa, rabbi or head of a yeshiva in fourth-century Baby- lonia could be a brewer, al- though he made beer frOm a very different food: dates. Editor's Note: Recently, a reader wrote to ask whether Chaim Weiz- mann's name at birth had been Chaim Fialkow. Tell Me Why responded that Weizmann was the given name of Israel's first president, which is correct. However, further research shows that Weizmann was not, in fact, his ancestral name. Weizmann's paternal grand- father was Chaim Azriel Fi- alkow of Serniki Pervye, a small town north of Rovno in the western Ukrainian province of Volyn. Chaim Azriel Fialkow, a tal- mudic scholar who made his living as a merchant, married Gitl Rivka Chermerinski of Motol, a small town northwest of Pinsk in Byelorussia (Be- larus). Chaim Azriel and Gitl Riv- ka had seven sons, all subject to conscription in the Russian army. Inasmuch as Russian law provided an exemption from military service for the only son in a family, it was a c---\ common practice for Jewish boys who wanted to evade the draft to change their last names and be "adopted" by other families as their only sons. Five of the Fialkow boys changed their last names, to include a Shapiro, Goldweitz, Rosensweig and Berman. Ozer Fialkow, born in 1852, chose Weizmann as his new last name. The two youngest Fi- alkow sons did not alter their last names, presumably be- cause the conscription laws had changed by then. ❑ Send questions to Tell Me Why, The Jewish News, 27676 Franklin Road, Southfield, MI 48034, or fax to (810) 354-6069. All letters must be signed and in- clude the writer's address. Ques- tions answered in the column will feature only the writer's initials and city of residence.