jews d

in
the

continued from page 10

“It felt like the medicine my mind and body
had been needing for years.”

— PADDY LYNCH

CLOCKWISE: The original tiles in the bath
were restored. A new, outdoor patio was
added. Joe Nagle of Detroit enjoys the pool.
ABOVE: The renovated locker room.

tionally, even physically,” he said.
“Mistakes from the past, relationship
regrets, my time in Haiti, my sobriety,
my life burying the dead; it was all com-
ing to a head.
“Certain days, my anxiety and depres-
sion became so severe that I would sit in
the banya [steam room] for over three
hours and sweat myself into a kind of
trance. And it was then that I began to
understand why so many men, whatever
their positions in life might be, came
so regularly and for so long [some have
been coming weekly for over 50 years]. It
felt like the medicine my mind and body
had been needing for years.”
The Russian banya, or public bath-
house, tradition dates back thousands
of years — and more recently to a time
when most residential homes and apart-
ments lacked running hot water. The
typical banya had both a steam room
and a washing room, the latter dispens-
ing warm water heated by the fiery-hot
rocks of the former.
Some banyas, like The Schvitz, also
feature cold pools for bathers to dip into
between sessions. Traditional felt hats
are often worn to protect the head from
hot temperatures, and short, fragrant
oak leaf brooms called veniks are used
to give platzas (Yiddish for shoulders
or back) hot soapy massages that take
place in the steam room.

HISTORIC BEGINNINGS

Lynch wasn’t content with just owning

12

November 2 • 2017

jn

The Schvitz. He wanted to understand
its origins and, in particular, why it
held such historical significance for
the Jewish community. He contacted
Rick Meltzer, whose father Harry B. and
grandfather Charles Meltzer opened
the business on Oakland Avenue at the
height of the Great Depression in 1930.
Rick now operates his father’s St. Clair
Shores restaurant, Uncle Harry’s Deli,
which opened in 1977 after The Schvitz
changed hands in a foreclosure dispute.
Harry B.’ s cousin, Harry “Chinky”
Meltzer, was an associate of the Purple
Gang, a Jewish mobster group of
bootleggers and hijackers who rose to
prominence after Detroit became the
U.S.’ first “dry” city in 1917, three years
before national Prohibition. Many mem-
bers of the Purple Gang were known to
frequent The Schvitz, where naked men
couldn’t conceal weapons and the wet
steam made it impossible to wiretap
conversations.
In his deli, Rick has pictures of his siz-
able family and the Oakland Baths [the
original name] hanging on every wall.
He spoke nostalgically of those days
and the ease with which notable politi-
cians, mobsters and regular folks of all
different ethnicities and means mingled
peacefully in the space. He was especial-
ly proud to report that in the 45 years
his family owned the establishment,
“only two people died in there!” and both
of natural or accidental cause with no
foul play suspected.
Rick remembers his father describing
the earliest days at the Baths when $1
bought a patron a towel, a bar of soap
and a bed in the hotel that used to be on
the floor above where the bricked-out
windows still stand. On the third floor
was a ballroom with a bandstand for
musical performances. He’s optimistic
about this trio’s bold restoration efforts
after many years of uncertainty and
watching the business descend into
more risqué ventures like swingers’
nights to keep the bills paid.
“It’s a great effort,” Meltzer said. “I’m
pleased to see that they’re bringing back
what the club stands for: the steam, the
history, the tradition that my dad and
grandfather built it for. It was a social
club, a place to relax, to get great food. A
place to escape every day.”
“They’re doing the right thing with the
club,” he nods approvingly.

INTO THE FUTURE

Paddy has assembled an impressive
team to guide the business forward, a
fact reflected in the club’s new pricing
structure that starts at $100 a month
for unlimited access or $35 per visit. (He
acknowledges that “for some people,
club fees could be overly burdensome.
Please discuss this with us in confi-
dence. We have never refused anyone for

