However, fate beckoned the young men onward, leading them through Kharkov and onward by rail to Moscow.
Chapter 6: For a Better Share
In those years, Moscow warmly welcomed all who sought a new beginning. Young and old, rich and poor, from the «former» or «present,» people from all walks of life tried to establish themselves in the Red Capital and forge a fresh destiny. They settled in its alleys, cramped rooms, and barracks, clustering in the suburbs, yet persistently clinging to hope for a change in their fortunes.
Yakov Maretsky's decision to relocate from the Taurida Governorate to Moscow was a well-considered and arduous one. His wife, Maria, had been suffering from a prolonged illness, necessitating the attention of capable doctors. Moreover, the future of their children demanded attention, especially their eldest, Mark, who was already sixteen!
Nonetheless, parting with their beloved hometown of Henichesk was no easy task. It had experienced a literal blossoming just before the revolution, becoming an official city only in 1903. The construction of the port had transformed the landscape: mudbrick houses in the center were replaced by sturdy stone structures, streets were paved, and even the main square, which once rivaled a swamp in inclement weather, now looked quite decent. Various trading offices, including foreign ones, hotels, restaurants, coffee houses, and taverns had sprung up. Yakov himself was engaged in his own business, buying goods from villagers and reselling them at the city market or port.
Yakov had married a treasure of a wife: beautiful, thrifty, and from a reputable family – the daughter of a wealthy shopkeeper (the Bersovs' store was located near the market in the city center). As fate would have it, she bore him two children – first, a son to assist the father, and then a daughter to support the mother. It seemed that Yakov's love for Maria only grew stronger after the birth of their children.
Yakov cherished his offspring: Anna, a delicate flower with captivating green eyes, and Mark, a spirited force whose energy needed channeling from an early age. At the tender age of five, the responsible duty of looking after his one-year-old sister was entrusted to the eldest son, Mark. It quickly became evident that responsibility was the boy's second most prominent trait, following his boundless curiosity, for which there seemed to be no end. Mark was intrigued by everything, and who better than his father to explain the unfathomable!
It became apparent to Yakov that his son needed an education beyond the Talmud alone. «Perhaps grammar school would suit him better. He should attend a cheder and should strive for greater things.»
«Maria,» the father, feeling both fatigued from the continuous questions and genuinely delighted, called out to his wife, «how did you manage to give birth to my son just in time for the opening of the library! That must be it; that's why he has this insatiable thirst for knowledge!»
The establishment of the opulent Public Library, the first in Henichesk, became a noteworthy event that drew both approval and discontent from the local press and bazaar-goers alike. Some questioned the abundance of books, arguing that the Torah was enough.
«Oh, Yakov, do you want your son to be a nar (fool) like Moysha, who only knows how to chase pigeons and cats?» His wife reminded him of the foolish offspring of the Winklevich family, adding with a chuckle, «And besides, with the streets being paved that year, would you also say our son has a heart of stone?»
Before Yakov could respond to his wife, young Mark had another question. «What is a library?» he inquired. And then, without pause, he asked, «Is there really such a thing as a heart of stone?»
«A library is a place filled with many books,» Father tried to be patient, eager to bring the never-ending conversation to a close. «And a heart of stone is an expression used for children who lack empathy and torment their parents with incessant questions.»
Little Anna, the younger sister, stood up for her beloved brother. «Mark is good!» she declared, not fully grasping the nuances of the conversation but sensing the changes in her father's tone. Mark, the restless and inventive elder brother, was her hero. He was the best in the world to her, and in return, he cherished his little sister tenderly.
In general, everything was going well for the Maretsky family. They lived harmoniously, not wealthy but not impoverished either. In a port city, only the indolent or inebriated would become destitute, but Yakov was diligent, astute, healthy, and robust – qualities essential in his line of work.
However, the Civil War did not merely sweep through Henichesk – it nearly obliterated it. The small port in the Melitopol district, situated on the outskirts of Crimea, faced attacks from all sides: shelled by armored trains on the railroad, visited by every faction fighting in Ukraine. The destruction inflicted gaping wounds on its streets, and sorrow and fear permeated the homes of its inhabitants.
Of course, the residents were resourceful people; they sought refuge in local catacombs and stockpiled food to outwit Germans, Whites, Reds, Greens, and other punitive detachments. These ancient dungeons concealed secret passages that baffled outsiders, but the boys, forbidden from going near the catacombs due to their former use by smugglers, still managed to learn and explore a lot. Mark, naturally curious, couldn't resist involvement in such significant matters, yet attentive parents promptly put an end to his attempts, ensuring he didn't partake in unsafe underground exploration. Disobeying was out of the question.
However, strangely enough, the real catastrophe struck in 1921, after the Civil War in the South had already ended. Henichesk seemed destined to never recover: plagued by typhus, subject to shootings by the Cheka, and plunged into a terrible famine. A famine in a land known for its abundance of bread, a place that had grown into a city thanks to its flourishing grain trade…
No one believed it, even though gradually the townspeople were transitioning back to peaceful life. But the prospects had dried up here, and supplies were depleting after enduring so many pogroms and requisitions…
Recalling the horrors he had endured, Yakov suspected that his wife's sudden and puzzling illness was a result of the endless searches and threats they had faced. The walls of their once-reliable house now seemed inadequate to protect the family.
Perhaps, that's why he found himself agreeing with his daughter when she spoke about leaving. Anna observed with eagerness as those who had held the town together departed Henichesk, one by one.
«Daddy, everyone is leaving from here,» her voice trembled, «I wish we could go to Kharkov, too. There's a new Ukrainian capital and real life there now.»
«Eh, what kind of life is real, daughter?»
«I don't know. It's just… there, not here.»
A lump formed in his throat. Amid the daily struggles for survival and Maria's health, he had overlooked this despair. He glanced at his son – serious and silent. Understanding his father's unspoken question, he simply nodded. And who could doubt it? These two were always on the same page.
Yes, I should have made up my mind long ago. He pulled Anna closer, rubbed his son's shoulder.
«Well, if we're going to the capital, we're going to the main one!»
«Daddy!»
«Oh, tsores…» Maria sighed.
«Why the distress, Mom?» Mark asserted confidently. «There are good doctors there too.»
Mark adored Henichesk, just as children hold dear everything associated with the earliest and brightest years of their lives. It was astonishing how much this small town encompassed! The bustling, colorful bazaar gave way to the tranquility of the new embankment, where composed locals strolled, and the hush of a narrow street with soft dust underfoot abruptly yielded to the lively bustle of the central «avenue.» The port's incessant hum, where carts rattled on the flooring day and night, barges rumbled, and movers shouted, retreated before the serene calm of the deserted Arabat Arrow.
In this place, the feeling of crowdedness and confined space, so often found in many provincial towns, simply dissolved, for on all sides lay vast expanses!