My father was born in a small village called Salnietsa in Ukraine, in what is called a guberina, equivalent to our provinces, and it was called Podolskay (Solnitza Podilia). His mother couldn't remember if it was when they planted potatoes or when they harvested them the year my father was born. The year in 1907. He was given the birth date of October 25, which we celebrate every year up to his 91st, when he passed away, December 11, 1998.

He was the second oldest in a family of four siblings. His sister, Riva, was the oldest then came his brother Bill [William] who spelled his last name as LITINSKY. Their father, REFUL, left Canada when Sam was six years old, and he didn't see him again until 11 years later. From stories I heard, my grandfather had parents living here, but the story is very vague and never got the facts straight. Reful worked for the railway [I think it was CPR], and I had a lifetime pass to travel for free for him, his wife and I think his children, but no one ever used it.

It took him 11 years to save up enough money to send for his wife and children. He chose the cheapest tickets, and as my father told me, the ships went bankrupt by the time they reached Sherbrooke, France, where they were stranded for two months. I don't know how they managed to survive without money but somehow, they did until my grandfather could arrange for their passage.

My father told me many stories about life in the village after my grandfather left. His mother Pessie was left to fend for herself, with four young children. When he left, the youngest, Molly, was an infant, and the other ones were still quite young. She resorted to running a Kuchma [similar to accommodation tavern and pub], where she made her own [illegal] homebrew. When the authorities found out, on one occasion, he made a surprise visit and destroyed the operation. Another time, they were forewarned, and spilled it out in the garden before the police arrived. The next day, the pigs [which roamed around freely] were all drunk from drinking the brew. 

Another story my father told me was that his mother was resourceful and tried different enterprises to make a living. She dealt with leather and to get merchandise she had to cross the border into Poland illegally as travel is prohibited. She left the children to fend for themselves with the promise that she would be back within a week. As it happened, she was caught returning at the border and put in jail. She had hidden some gold pieces in the heels of her shoes. While in jail she saw a window with iron grates in her cell. She watched for someone who looked Jewish and called out to them and asked if he [or she] would take the shoes to the rabbi and when she would be released, she would go to the rabbi and claim them, which she did. She was gone over a month and my father told me he and his siblings didn't know what happened to her. They thought something adverse had happened to her; she would never come back. You can imagine the joy when she returned.

The Home of Raful and Pessie Letinsky on Magnes Avenue in the 1920s

In the meantime, my father learned to become a steam presser in a cloak factory, a job he remained in for the rest of his life.

I have many memories of my growing up years which I will recount in my own story. My parents loved each other very much, but their marriage was a volatile one. My father was his mother's favorite, and he and she had a very close relationship. He confided in her and took her advice against my mother's decisions. It created a serious problem in their relationship and led to many verbal battles.

My grandmother was a strong woman, whose own marriage was not particularly gratifying. My grandfather was a very morose person, who missed the village from whence he came, and was never happy in Canada. I never saw him smile, nor did I have a relationship with him. I don't remember ever having a conversation with them. [My aunt Molly once told me that he never spoke to her in all the years she lived in his house]. I suppose Pessie and Ruful were unsuited to each other [but then who is]. Pessie was the only girl in a family of [I think] five sons. She was allowed to learn Hebrew [very unusual for a girl from that era]. She could "daven" and the other women in the "show" would turn to her for assistance in knowing where to pray at holiday time.

She was not very nice to my mother, who, being an orphan, and not having her own mother, was sensitive and needy of a mother's love and understanding. Although my grandmother liked my mother, she was "heavy handed" in her dealings and interfered in my parents’ lives. As a child I remember a time when my mother came back from helping my grandmother prepared dinner for visitors and was told to go home and eat because there wasn't enough food or room for her. There were other incidents over the years when she was hurt by an unkind word or thoughtless gesture. My memories of my grandparents are not very fond ones. I feel close to my mother's family, the Beloff's, who I adored and loved to come to their home as often as I could.

1960s Photo: Sam harvesting from his Inkster back-yard crab-apple tree.