A Rose May Be a Rose, but Schiff is Still Better than Slutsky

My maiden name is Rosenberg and my family, on both sides, are a bunch of radical ass Russian Jews. All of them, all the way back to the beginning of time. So then I married this Catholic guy....oh, I'm sorry, that would be an entirely different post. This post is about my father's family.

Anyway, and I say this with pride, I am just about one generation away from being Euro-trash, both on my mother and father's side.  Before you wonder if I am related to THE Rosenbergs (you know, Ethel and Joseph? those treasonous communists?), let me just tell you straight off that Rosenberg is Jewish for Smith. So, if I am, I don't know it.

Sidney Rosenberg, my paternal grandfather, was born in New York City in 1902. His parents, Rachel and Max Rosenberg, had immigrated to the United States from Russia in 1875. They, like so many of my relatives, came by boat to Ellis Island. From there, his family went to Texas. They left Russia because of political reasons.

Eventually, Sidney moved to Chicago, and met the beautiful Annie Schiff, whom he immediately fell in love with and married. Annie Rosenberg is my paternal grandmother. She was a teacher and Sidney was a lawyer.

Annie's grandfathers name was Schuel Slutsky. He immigrated from Latvia, which was at the time an independent part of Russia. They were called "herring eaters" because the country was a peninsula surrounded by water on three sides.

Schuel Slutsky had immigrated at the age of ten because he was a 'known' radical and he was "in trouble with the authorities" and they were looking for him. By the time he was twelve, he lived in Manhattan and was a rag pedaler.

When my great-great grandfather Slutsky came through Ellis Island, they changed his name to Schiff. When he arrived, he was trying to tell the immigration officials, in broken english, that "he came on the ship". They thought he was saying "my name is Schiff". Apparently, this happened quite often in those days. Good ridence "Slutsky" and hello "Schiff".

My grandma Annie's father was named Isaac Schiff and her mother was named Rose. Rose was an amazing woman, one so after my own heart that I wish I'd known her. Isaac died and left Rose a widow with twelve children. Rose never remarried and scrubbed floors to support my grandma Annie and her eleven brothers and sisters. All twelve attended college.

This is my favorite story about Rose Schiff. Keep in mind that she had left Russia only years before and could barely speak English.

During the Great Depression, the bank was going to foreclose on their house. Rose marched all twelve children, with their little bags packed, down to the bank. She told the bank manager that if he did foreclose, she would have no choice but to leave all twelve children with him because they would be homeless.

She pretended to walk away, while twleve frantic children, who really believed her, cried 'mama mama!..' please, mama mama, don't leave us mama!. The manager relented, and they somehow managed to keep the house. Ain't that salty? I want to be just like Rose.

How We Got Around

You could describe my childhood as "transportationally challenged". My mother never learned to drive, which was good for society in two ways; nobody ever got hurt, and it inspired her to invent pizza delivery.

Fortunately, my father drove her everywhere. Unfortunately, he died when I was nine. My mothers favorite mode of transportation in a city that barely had mass transit was the taxi cab. Actually, it was perfect for her, they were driving and she was Miss Daisy.

Here's how my mother invented pizza delivery. She would call and order a pizza from the only pizza parlour in our neighborhood. It was called Berconi's, and was owned by Bert Cohen who was really a nice Jewish man. Next, she would call the taxi stand that was behind the pizza store, which was called Center Cab. She was so bonded with the taxi dispatchers, they would have a taxi pick up her pizza, and deliver it to our house. Then my mom would reimburse the driver for both the pizza and the cab fare.

She would shop for groceries at the beginning of the month, and would tip the driver to carry a months worth of groceries into the house for us. My mother taught my sisters and me how to tip correctly at a very young age. She is a very charming woman, and to this day, is loved and admired by cabbies coast-to-coast, LA to Chicago.....'cause she's a smooth oper-A-tor.

My sisters and I walked everywhere. Until we went off to Jr. High School, we never left our neighborhood unless we actually left town. If it wasn't walking distance, we didn't go. You'd be surprised how far walking distance becomes once you get used to it.

We always seemed to live at the bottom of really big hills, and the first mile was straight up. I always thought of it as a metaphor for life, and when I bought my first house, I looked for the flattest neighborhood I coud find in the seven hills area. Eventually, somewhere along the way, we got tired of walking 10 miles each way to school. That's when we learned how to ride the Metro.

The mass transit system in Cincinnati is sub-par compared to most major cities, but like a cheap liquor in a crunch, it will get you where you're going. Or, as Patrick said, cheap liquor helps if you have to ride the Metro. You should go back to older posts and read Patricks mass transit story about the guy and the booger, it's a classic.

The worst part about riding the Metro is that you have to do everything on their schedule, whether they have one or not. If you're not at the orange pole, waving, they'll pass your ass right up. Also, never try to run and catch the bus. The average Metro driver lives to pass you up, and the smug, pointing-and-laughing-at-you looks on the other passengers faces, who were actually at the bus stop on time, will just kill your entire week. Just pretend like you meant to miss the bus, trust me, it's easier on your ego.

When it came time to bust out of Cincinnati, it was always on the Greyhound. Now that's a special experience all un to itself. It's a sub-culture both on the buses and in the terminals. Interesting how it's called Greyhound and they keep their passengers in "terminals" just like race dogs. It just came to me and I had to point it out.

Anyway, however long any trip would be by car, multiply it by 5 and that's how long it takes to get there on the Greyhound. Also, if an obese man eating cold taco's gets on the bus, he will always sit next to you, sometimes for twelve hours or more. I won't even get started on whether or not you should ever sit anywhere near the on board potty.

The upside to riding the Greyhound is that it's cheap, and always takes the scenic routes. The stops along the way are sort of nostalgic to me. Who doesn't love stretching their legs at 4 in the morning at the Evansville, IN bus station? When you suddenly go from cold, smelly, diesel fuel to warm, smelly diesel fuel mixed with coffee and french fries, it's feels just like leaving home. So special.

Finally, when I was eighteen, I bought a car. It seemed to be a really good reason to get a drivers license so I did that next. Then, after 3 or so years, I got so sick of owning a car so I sold it and didn't buy another one for 5 years. After five years more of riding the Metro, it's a dream of mine to never ride it again. The Elevated it ain't. So there you have it.

Leadership

For the last ten years, I've had the privilege of being the president of the Cincinnati State chapter of SEIU/Local 1199. This January, I will be stepping down and going back to concentrating on my real job, which is being a software analyst.

It's been a wicked ten years. Our membership has gone from 80 members to 150 members in that time. SEIU represents all of the clerical, technical, and professional employee's at the college. I consider myself a war time president, having spent the last decade with a college president who is vemenently anti labor. He's gone now.

There is a hand full of people, mostly belligerent techs like myself, who have carried the burden of leadership with me. Every piece of successful contract enforcement came off of the back of this group. It affected all of our careers, and for the first time taught me what it meant to be truly hated.

Being a good leader is incredibly difficult, but I've changed so much for having had the experience. I never really wanted to be a leader, but in the end did it because I could. Leadership chose me, and man, did it change me.

Lessons of Leadership:

Learn how to choose your battles wisely. Our resources are very tight, and with full time jobs as well, you have to really look at the bigger picture. How will the energy best benefit the greatest amount of people? If I fight too many fronts, I can't win any. Also, many times, it means more to win the war than all of the battles.

Never let anyone live in your head rent free. Unless a person serves a real purpose in your life, don't spend tons of time thinking about them. It makes it easy to manipulate you, and is a favorite tactic of your opposition. If you allow it, they've won.

Know the difference between business and personal. In business, you can not open your heart and soul to every difference or conflict, it eats you alive. You will generally have someone pissed at you all the time, but it's not personal. How is it not personal? Because they don't know you. You are not the job you perform.

Good leadership means doing the right thing even when everyone wants to tell you it's wrong. Sometimes the decision a leader makes pisses their own side off as much as the other. For instance, the college instituted a four day work week for the entire campus for the summer term. The day before it started, the college approached the union leadership demanding a contractual change for our unit. It would change "sick days" to "sick hours", which is a change in working condition. The demographic of our membership is single heads of household with children, and with that change, inevitably, some would end up with odd hours of sick time and not have enough to cover a whole day and end up in the disciplinary process. We couldn't agree to a contractual change (not if they ever wanted the contract to be taken seriously as "legally binding") without a vote of the membership, and there was not time for a vote because the college waited so long to approach us (which they did on purpose). As their leadership, we were forced to say no and the college took back the four day work week. The membership hated my guts for it. Now, having watched things play out, I know we made the right decision and wouldn't change a thing even though it was a very painful year.

Always surround yourself with people who are smarter than you are. The burden of making decisions by yourself will kill you. I've always been surrounded by what I call "the brain trust". I never make any decisions on my own, everything is led by consensus of the group. We can scream at each other behind closed doors, and disagree, but when we walk out of that room, we are always a unified front.

Leadership is not a life perk. Good leadership never benefits you personally. It is absolute self sacrifice for something bigger than yourself. The only thanks is leaving something behind that is stronger and better than when you found it.

Democracy is for those who step up to the plate. If a business contract isn't enforced, then it just doesn't exist. A contract carries the rights of those it governs, but if you don't know your rights, you can't enforce them. Be careful what you wish for, because once you get it, you have to take care of it. So there you have it.