16 | NOVEMBER 26 • 2020 

town to attend college at the 
University of Michigan. Like so 
many Iron Mountain teens, he 
did not move back. His mother 
was the last family member 
there, and she left in 1990 fol-
lowing Kushner’
s father’
s death. 
The last time Kushner saw 
the inside of his former syn-
agogue was seven years ago 
when he attended a family 
reunion with about 40 rela-
tives. Many of those in atten-
dance were descendants of 
Sam Rusky, a peddler and one 
of the first Jewish settlers in 
Iron Mountain. He was also 
Kushner’
s great-grandfather. 
At one point during the fam-
ily gathering, Kushner and his 
relatives gathered inside their 
former synagogue, a simple 
white rectangular building that 

sits unassumingly on a neigh-
borhood street corner. They 
spent the time reminiscing and 
rediscovering familial dedica-
tion plaques and other artifacts 
which flooded their conver-
sations with an abundance of 
memories. 
Aside from the Star of David 
located above the front door, 
it would be easy to ignore the 
100-plus-year-old congregation. 
The simple white rectangular 
building, which looks more like 
a house than a place of worship, 
had a history of members pon-
dering its long-term viability. 
As far back as the late 1930s, 
the Jewish population began to 
decline and congregants won-
dered what the future would 
bring. 
In the 1940s, membership 

consisted of approximately 20 
devoted families. At that time, 
services only occurred during 
the High Holidays, if there 
was a yahrtzeit or on the rare 
occasion of a bar mitzvah. A 
full-time rabbi was no longer 
necessary. Men and women 
were now sitting together, and 
the balcony, once reserved for 
women, converted into a stor-
age room. Esahe mikvah had 
been removed. 
In the 1950s, while there were 
still enough men for a minyan, 
it was sometimes an effort to 
assemble one. Although Anshe 
Knesseth Israel was never affili-
ated with a movement, services 
became Reform in the 1970s so 
women could be counted in the 
requisite prayer quorum. 
High Holiday services were 

almost entirely in Hebrew, and 
“incomprehensible,
” according 
to Jim Zacks, a retired professor, 
now living in Okemos. They 
occurred under the leadership 
of a visiting rabbi or someone 
knowledgeable enough to lead 
the congregation in prayer. 
Zacks lived in Iron Mountain 
for 18 years, from the time he 
was born in 1941 until 1959 
when he left to attend Harvard 
University. Despite going to 
services he didn’
t understand, 
Zacks has fond memories of 
Sunday school plays, holiday 
celebrations and his bar mitz-
vah. He recalls with particular 
fondness being in Sunday 
school and learning about the 
creation of the State of Israel. 
“My childhood experiences 
in the congregation; it was a 
warm feeling. It felt like some-
thing special was going on. 
Even when I was too young 
to understand what it was all 
about,
” said Zacks.

COMMON ANCESTOR
When describing her memo-
ries, Susan Cohodes expressed 
similar sentiments about 
the synagogue and its recent 
sale. Cohodes, 59, is the third 
generation of her family who 
lived in Iron Mountain, start-
ing with her grandfather, a 
Lithuanian peddler who settled 
there around the late 1890s. At 
the time she lived there, her 
family comprised the major-
ity of Jewish residents. Only 
three families in the congre-
gation were not related to the 
Cohodes.
“
At first, I was saddened by 
the news, but then I thought 
I’
m not moving back there, 
and there’
s no longer a Jewish 
community,
” said Cohodes. She 
was glad to learn the building 
would be put to good use by a 
nonprofit organization that runs 
12-step programs and that syn-
agogue artifacts, including the 
Torah, are being used in other 
congregations.

“IT’S SAD TO SEE YOUR CHILDHOOD SYNAGOGUE 

CLOSE, BUT WE KNEW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.”

— WENDY RUSSMAN-HALPERIN

Susan Cohodes’ father 

Ben Cohodes and her 

Uncle Morris Cohodes. 

continued from page14

ON THE COVER

