How Curious George Escaped the Nazis and Brought Joy to the World

One of the sweetest and most beloved characters in children’s literature was created in the minds of a Jewish refugee couple. Who were Margret and Hans Rey? How did their talent allow them to escape Nazi Europe by the skin of their teeth, and what other character beloved by generations of young boys and girls did they create? This is the story of the author and illustrator whose innocent and optimistic children’s books continue to brighten our lives to this day.

Hans and Margret Rey. Photo from the de Grummond Collection for Children’s Literature, the McCain Library and Archives, University of Southern Mississippi, and the character they created as he appeared in "Curious Honi Rides a Bicycle", one of many Hebrew translations, Modan Publishing, 1983

What would you take with you if you had to flee your home and country on a bicycle?

Hans and Margret Rey were forced to ask that question of themselves in June 1940, making a fateful choice which would affect their lives dramatically.

But to fully understand that decision, we have to go back a few years, specifically to Brazil 1925, on whose shores arrived a young Jewish man named Hans Augusto Reyersbach. Hans’ source of income in this new county came from selling bathtubs and sinks, but Brazil also allowed him to combine his three great loves – boats, painting, and animals, and he spent what free time he had sailing up the Amazon River and drawing the many monkeys he saw along the way.

Ten years later, after Hitler rose to power, a family friend arrived in Rio De Janeiro from Hamburg, Margarete Elisabeth Waldstein. She convinced him to get out of sales, after which they opened up an advertising agency, with Hans in charge of illustration and design and Margarete doing the copywriting. Their partnership quickly turned into a romance, which blossomed into a marriage. They replaced the name Reyersbach, which Brazilians had difficulty pronouncing, with Rey. Margarete became Margret. Hans stayed Hans.

מרגרט והנס — Hans and Margret Rey. Photo from the de Grummond Collection for Children’s Literature, the McCain Library and Archives, University of Southern Mississippi

A year after their marriage, these Brazilian citizens decided to return to Europe. They settled down in Paris and began to write and illustrate children’s books. Their first book told the story of a giraffe and a family of monkeys (known in English as Cecily G. and the Nine Monkeys and in French as Rafi et les neuf singes). One of the monkeys in the story, a mischievous little fellow named Fifi, was so captivating that they decided to write a new book centered on him.

צילה גי — From *Cecily G. and the Nine Monkeys*. Translated into Hebrew as *Tzila G. and the Nine Monkeys*

Hans and Margret had just moved again to a small French village to get away from the noise of the city and enjoy the peace and quiet of the beautiful countryside. It was here that they planned to write their new book, but this was not to be. These were the early days of World War II, and while the war was still relatively far away, an atmosphere of fear and suspicion permeated the small village.

The couple’s German accent led neighbors to call the police on them. The locals suspected they were German spies. An officer was sent to their home, who began to interrogate them. Only when he entered Hans’ study, and saw the drawings of the little monkey spread out across his work table, was he convinced that these were children’s authors and not spies. After this incident, the couple decided to return to Paris, where Hans began to draw the adventures of Fifi.

But their stay in Paris did not last long, either. In May 1940, the city was filled with thousands of refugees and a sense of real danger hung over the residents – certainly its Jewish ones, including Hans and Margret. Within the chaos and tumult, they managed to renew their Brazilian passports and withdraw some money from the bank.

By June 10, the Nazis were approaching the city, and Hans and Margret knew they had to escape quickly. They didn’t have a car, the trains were shut down, and it wasn’t even possible to find a functional bicycle in the stores. So, Hans spent a huge amount of money on some spare parts from which he was able to assemble two makeshift bicycles. They were forced to leave most of their belongings behind, taking with them a few clothes, some food, an umbrella, a pipe, and manuscripts at various stages of writing and illustration, including the manuscript describing the adventures of Fifi.

They set out early in the morning, pedaling among millions of other bicycle riders, pedestrians, trucks and other vehicles, all of whom were fleeing south. In the coming days, they rode dozens of kilometers on their improvised bikes, over long days which started before dawn and ended in darkness. The couple would sleep in random barns they found along the way. On June 14, they reached their first destination: the train station at Orleans. That same day, Nazi soldiers marched through Paris and raised the Nazi flag over the Eiffel Tower.

The Reys continued on their journey – another bike ride, another train – with the aim of reaching Portugal and then the United States. On the next, desperately packed train, a stern police officer began moving among the passengers, looking for stowaways or any other people who could conceivably be taken off the overcrowded train. When he reached the Reys, he asked to see their documents as well as the suspicious pile of papers they carried with them. It was the manuscript of Fifi’s adventures. The officer’s appearance softened as he examined the written content and illustrations, and he let them stay on the train. Once again, the little illustrated monkey was a better character witness for them than any official document. On October 14, 1940, four months after they began their flight, the Reys stood on the deck of a ship which brought them to the gates of New York. In a year, the manuscript would be published, and the monkey would become a hero, known to children across the United States. Along the way, Fifi changed his name to Curious George, at the publisher’s request.

להגעה לארהב — From the *Curious George*, the first book in the series

Curious George is Abducted and Ends Up in the Zoo

As we all know, George is a small (and very, very curious) monkey who lives in the home of the Man with the Yellow Hat. Not many know of or remember the story of how they first met – an encounter which begins with the Man in the Yellow Hat taking George from Africa, and ends with George arriving at the big city zoo. It is only in the second book that George is taken to the man’s home, where his new owner tries unsuccessfully to keep him out of trouble.

Following the first book, six new books describing the adventures of the adorable monkey were published between 1947 and 1966. Although the seven books were all collaborative projects, with Hans responsible for the drawings and Margret writing the story, their publisher advised them that the children’s literature market was swamped with female authors, and that the book might sell better if Hans’ name was on it. A few years later, Margret would regret this arrangement and her name would be added to the books.

What’s in a Name? Trouble With the King of England

The book’s American success led to an effort to distribute it in England, as well. The only problem was that this was during the reign of King George IV. Publishing a book featuring a monkey bearing the king’s name could be seen as an insult to the British Monarchy. Moreover, at the time, “curious” was slang for homosexuality. The times being what they were, it was clear that the monkey’s name would have to be changed yet again, and the books published in Britain gave him the name Zozo (one of the other monkeys in the book Cecily G. and the Nine Monkeys). Other countries also decided to change George’s name, not due to any political considerations but simply to make it more appropriate to local culture. Thus did George become Coco in Germany, Vili in Finland, and Joji in Japan.

הנס ריי אלזה דורפמן — Hans Rey reading his book to children. Photo: Elsa Dorfman

Curious George Makes Aliyah

In the early 1980s, Israeli children also got to meet Curious George. First they encountered him in the series of children’s cartoons aired on the Martziper children’s television program and then in the series of books bearing his name, which were published by Modan and translated by Puah Herschlag (six of the seven books were translated into Hebrew; the story of George learning the alphabet was not translated). As was common in that era of Israeli culture, it was decided that George would be given a proper Hebrew name – “Curious Honi”, after “Honi the Circle-Drawer” from the era of the Jewish sages.

חוני הסקרן — *Curious Honi Wins a Medal* (Hebrew), Modan, 1983

The illustrations in the Hebrew edition were Hans’ original work, but where they included English text, it was replaced with Hebrew, such as one drawing showing a newspaper boy handing out copies of Haaretz.

הארץ — *Curious Honi Rides a Bicycle* (Hebrew), Modan, 1983

In 2005, Keter Publishing released a book including a number of Curious George’s stories and drawings. It included the first story, here called “Curious Gur” (pup), as well as a translation of the Cecily G. story and another story which had only come to light around that time, a decade after Margret Rey’s death.

Among the manuscripts they took with them upon fleeing Paris, in addition to the work that would become the story of Curious George, was a story about a penguin who decided to travel the world. This story remained in their desk drawer and was only discovered after Margret’s death. Whiteblack the Penguin Travels the World was soon published in the United States and was also included in the Hebrew story collection.

Curious George’s Little Brother

Curious George was not the only illustrated hero created by the Reys. In 1944, they wrote and drew another famous book, which few tied to the creators of the beloved monkey. The book is called Pretzel in English and Beigele in Hebrew. It tells the story of Duke, a dachshund who falls in love with a female dog named Greta (or Zehuva in Hebrew). This book credited Margret Rey as the author, and this was also the moment when it was decided to add her name to the Curious George books. Two years later, a sequel called Pretzel and the Puppies came out which would eventually, in 2022, lead to a TV series inspired by the book.

בייגלה — *Beigele* (a Hebrew translation of *Pretzel*), Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1975

P And The Pupps — The sequel to *Pretzel* – *Pretzel and the Puppies*, Harper and Brothers, 1946

Hans passed away on August 26, 1977. Margret died on December 21, 1996. Hans experienced the success of the books and enjoyed it, but Margret was the one who got to see George become a household name, leading to a movie, a TV series, and a whole range of popular merchandise.

Even after Margret died, books continued to come out, telling of George’s new adventures. Hans and Margret had their names on the cover, but these were stories based on the original books which were created by a series of different authors and illustrators. We do admit that one of our favorite stories can be found in one of these later books, which Margret wrote after Hans’ passing: Curious George Visits the Library.

מבקר בספרייה — *Curious George Visits the Library* (Hebrew)

One thing never changed in any of the incarnations or portrayals of Curious George: his being a captivating and good-hearted character, who out of curiosity and never malice always ends up in trouble, but who also always manages to get out of it, and even help others around him.

Every child – even every adult! – needs a person like that in their life, someone who can show them that mistakes are a part of life, and that you always have an opportunity to make things better.

From “Bourekas Films” to the Israel Prize: Menahem Golan’s Israeli Hollywood Story

It's been a decade since the passing of legendary film producer Menahem Golan. His remarkable career began with films poking fun at Israel's unique social fabric, but he would go on to work with the likes of Chuck Norris, Sylvester Stallone and Meryl Streep.

Hillel Kuttler | 07.08.24

History of Israel Israeli Culture

Lee Marvin (left), Chuck Norris (center) and Menahem Golan (right) on the set of "The Delta Force", 1985, photo by IPPA staff, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel

In 2005–06, Menahem Golan, a film mogul in Israel and later in the United States, sat down for a series of lengthy interviews.

“Once he started talking about cinema, his eyes lit up,” said Shmulik Duvdevani, a film professor who with a student conducted the interviews at Golan’s office in Tel Aviv and home in Jaffa.

The conversations totaled 15 hours and are part of a project, the Israeli Cinema Testimonial Database, documenting the early decades of the country’s film industry.

“You can call him the father of popular Israeli cinema, films meant for mass audiences: comedies, melodrama, action,” said Duvdevani, who teaches at Tel Aviv University and Jerusalem’s Sam Spiegel Film and Television School. “He helped to build the Israeli film industry.”

08608 000 27 — Menahem Golan directing the classic Israeli film *Kazablan*, 1973, photo by IPPA staff, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel

Golan began his career in Israeli theater, but discovered his calling as a movie director and producer in the 1960s and ‘70s in a genre known as “bourekas films” that depicted Ashkenazi and Sephardi characters engaged in ethnicity-based misunderstandings and conflict.

Few Israelis made any styles of movies then, and little appreciation — let alone funds — existed for high production values. Sound quality was so poor that subtitles were sometimes a necessity. Shots that belonged on the cutting-room floor remained in the film.

But the genre was “an important stage” in Israeli cinema’s development, said Rami Kimche, a professor at Ariel University and author of a 2023 English-language book, Israeli Bourekas Film: Their Origins and Legacy.

And while Golan, the son of immigrant parents from Poland, might not have intended to break social barriers with films portraying Mizrachi Jews, he recognized them as part of his ticket-buying audience.

“He was a businessman, a theater man, a producer. He was important because he was the first,” Kimche said.

990044999100205171 — Yehoram Gaon and other actors in character on the set of *Kazablan*, 1973, photo by IPPA staff, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel

Kazablan, a 1973 bourekas musical Golan directed based on a play and a previous film, was “a major, major production, definitely was groundbreaking and was the peak of his work,” said Isaac Zablocki, director of the New York-based Israel Film Center. Golan directed three other bourekas films: Fortuna, Aliza Mizrachi and Katz V’Carasso.

Golan’s best-known movie in the genre was one he produced: Sallah Shabati, starring Chaim Topol and directed by Ephraim Kishon. It garnered Israel’s first nomination for an Academy Award, in 1964, in the foreign-film category.

990049467810205171 — A Hebrew promotional poster for the film *Sallah Shabati*, produced by Menahem Golan, from the Avraham Deshe (Pashanel) Archive which is made accessible courtesy of the family and as part of a collaborative initiative between the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage, the National Library of Israel and the University of Haifa.

Three other Golan works earned foreign-film Oscar nominations: I Love You Rosa (1972), The House on Chelouche Street (1973) and Operation Thunderbolt (1977), which told of the previous year’s rescue by the Israel Defense Forces of hostages held in Entebbe, Uganda.

Hijacked To Entebe — Menahem Golan (left) directs Yehoram Gaon, who again starred in one of his films, this time as Yoni Netanyahu in *Operation Thunderbolt*, based on the IDF’s daring hostage rescue mission in Entebbe, Uganda, 1976. Photo by Danny Gotfried, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel

In 1979, Golan moved to Hollywood, where he and his cousin, Yoram Globus, bought a studio, Cannon Films, and set out to make blockbusters on the world’s largest stage.

Their lead actors included Robert Mitchum, Sean Connery, Rock Hudson, Katharine Hepburn, Lauren Bacall, Faye Dunaway, Martin Sheen, Roger Moore, Rod Steiger, Donald Sutherland, Shelley Winters, Maximilian Schell, Jon Voight, Walter Matthau, Alan Bates, Isabella Rosselini, Sally Field, Michael Caine, Kim Basinger, Ellen Burstyn and a young Meryl Streep. Tough guys Charles Bronson and Chuck Norris performed in multiple Cannon films — and Sylvester Stallone and Jean-Claude Van Damme also starred. So did two global figures: opera singer Placido Domingo and ballet dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov.

Over The Top 1987 Film Cover Art — A promotional poster for *Over the Top*, starring Sylvester Stallone and directed by Menahem Golan, courtesy of The Cannon Group, Inc.

Noted directors signed on, too: Lina Wertmuller, Robert Altman, John Frackenheimer, John Cassavetes and Roman Polanski.

Ruth Golan remembers buying a beautiful, long dress to attend a screening of her father’s 1984 film, Ordeal by Innocence. Not just any screening, but one held at a London theater, in the presence of Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip. Golan was seated beside the queen. He was instructed not to wear a wristwatch, lest it inadvertently tangle on the monarch’s dress, his daughter said.

As girls, Ruth and her two sisters hung around Golan’s movie sets. She met actress Gila Almagor — and Michal Bat-Adam, who played the title role in I Love You Rosa and with whom she’s remained friends. Later on, she met Stallone, Voight and some of the other American stars working for her father.

While Cannon didn’t release critically acclaimed films, many turned profits. The studio certainly was a sequel factory: Lemon Popsicle and its six sequels, four sequels to Death Wish, four Ninja films, Delta Force and two sequels, Emmanuelle VII, Superman IV, Missing in Action 3, Exterminator 2, Breakin’ 2, Missing in Action 2 and Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2.

“Sometimes there was money; sometimes, not. Sometimes we had a home; sometimes, not. It wasn’t stable, but it was wonderful — up to a point,” Ruth Golan said.

Golan, said Zablocki, made films on the cheap, what once were called B movies. As an example, Zablocki cited the “low production quality” of Superman IV, which included scenes of Superman flying that looked “so much more fake than” in the previous three films.

But Golan thought big. He even built a studio in Neve Ilan, west of Jerusalem, intending to draw international directors to make films in Israel. His own The Delta Force, starring Norris, was filmed at the studio, but not its two sequels.

997009850342205171 — Menahem Golan (center) holds court with Chuck Norris (left) and Lee Marvin (right) on the set of *The Delta Force*, 1985, photo by IPPA staff, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel

“He was interested in making a Hollywood in Israel,” Duvdevani said.

The international film studio at Neve Ilan didn’t last, but a stronger Israeli film industry eventually emerged. “It feels like an important building block,” Zablocki said.

Israel itself was a sequel in Golan’s life. He returned to the country for good in the 1990s and was awarded the 1999 Israel Prize, given for lifetime achievement. Golan died in Jaffa 10 years ago this month. The National Library of Israel has an extensive photograph collection documenting Golan’s career.

“He was a loving father, but also was busy with his career,” Ruth Golan said. “He loved what he did.”

08608 000 43 — Menahem Golan on the set of *Kazablan*, 1973, photo by IPPA staff, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel

Writer-editor Hillel Kuttler can be reached at [email protected].

On Plants and Prejudice: Rachel Yanait and Aaron Aaronsohn

Ideological differences and raised eyebrows couldn’t get in the way of the personal and professional relationship between Aaron Aaronsohn and Rachel Yanait. While he was busy spying for the Nili underground network right in front of her, she focused on researching nature and became close with Aaron's sister and fellow spy Sarah. Her life was saved thanks to Avshalom Feinberg's coldness towards her, and she later became the wife of Israel’s second President.

Odem Ashur | 31.07.24

History of Israel Land of Israel Zionism

Aaron Aaronsohn and Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi. These photographs are part of the Archive Network Israel project and are made available thanks to the collaborative efforts of Yad Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage, and the National Library of Israel.

In such a turbulent period as we are in the midst of now, it can be interesting to go back in time and observe a surprising personal and professional relationship that spanned an ideological divide during another tumultuous period in our history. This story took place about 110 years ago, when two people with serious ideological differences managed to connect with each other thanks to their shared love of nature.

He was a world-renowned agronomist who was involved in spying for the British against the Ottoman Empire, which was just about to lose its control over the Land of Israel.

She was a young agronomist, a member of HaShomer, a Jewish defense organization, and an activist in the Poale Zion party, who later became the wife of the second President of the State of Israel.

Driving along Israel’s coastal road today, you can see where this story unfolded. Near Atlit, just south of Haifa, you can spot the row of Washingtonia palm trees that led to the agricultural research station where this friendship was forged.

997009637101605171 660 — Aaron Aaronsohn’s agricultural experimental farm in Atlit. This photograph is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made available thanks to the collaborative efforts of Yad Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage, and the National Library of Israel.

This is the story of Aaron Aaronsohn and Rachel Yanait. Their worldviews were radically different, but their shared love of nature and Israel connected them.

This was the period of the First World War. Aaron Aaronsohn, who lived in the little town of Zikhron Ya’akov, was already known around the globe for his discovery in 1906 of wild emmer, believed to be “the mother of wheat”. It was this discovery that led him to establish an agricultural experimentation station in Atlit, with funding from American donors. The station employed Jewish and Arab workers alike, triggering a charged ideological controversy within Zionist circles around what was known then as Kibbush HaAvoda – “the conquest of labor”: Should Arab laborers be hired to work on Zionist farms and factories? Or should the Zionist enterprise rely on Jewish labor only?

And if that wasn’t enough, at that same time, Aaron’s brother Alexander was establishing an organization by the name of HaGidonim, which was in competition with HaShomer. Aaron’s right-hand man in managing the station, the young Avshalom Feinberg, also belonged to HaGidonim.

And then there was Rachel Yanait, who was born in the Russian Empire as Golda Lishansky and adopted a Hebrew name. She was a member of HaShomer and the Poale Zion political party, which were dedicated advocates of Jewish labor. Later in life, she would play a critical role in helping Jews, especially women, immigrate to the Land of Israel from the Arab world.

997009633191505171 — Rachel Yanait in 1908, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.

There is no doubt that Yanait and Aaronsohn belonged to opposing camps, separated by a tense and passionate political divide. Was it possible to bridge this gap?

“I’d even go to a remote monastery”

Yanait traveled to Nancy, France to study agronomy. When she returned, she wanted to continue her professional specialization. She quickly discovered that the best place for her to develop her expertise was Aaronsohn’s agricultural experimentation station in Atlit.

But could anyone conceive of Yanait going to work with Aaronsohn, the well-known agronomist from the opposite political camp?

Yanait traveled to Jerusalem to meet with Aaronsohn. She got there just as he was writing a letter to Djemal Pasha, the Ottoman Governor of the region, concerning locusts that were rampant in the land in those days. He handed her the letter. She read it and, to her astonishment, the document revealed that Aaronsohn was a proud nationalist Jew and an experienced farmer. From that moment on, she saw him in a new light, different from everything she had heard about him in her circles, where he was considered “a hater of the working man” and a boycotter of Jewish laborers. As for what Aaronsohn thought about Yanait, we’ll get to that soon.

Because of his reputation, the idea that Yanait would work for Aaronsohn was met with strong opposition from the majority of the Poale Zion movement. “Is it possible that a member of the merkaz [the party’s central committee] would go and work for…the hater of the laborer?” wrote one of the party members. On the other hand, people from HaShomer were quite open to the idea. But Yanait was determined and could not be swayed by what the party thought. She responded: “If the experimentation station were in a remote monastery, I would go there as well to study the nature of the soil and of the crops we cultivate.” The objections of her fellow party members had no effect. Yanait remained steadfast, convinced that the path she was headed on was the right one.

Yanait arrived in Zikhron Ya’akov and asked Aaronsohn if she could work as an unpaid intern in the laboratory and library, and for one day a week in the nursery and vegetable garden in the experimentation station in Atlit.

At first, Aaronsohn responded coldly, but when he remembered their previous conversation in Jerusalem, he softened and evenexpressed surprise: “Not many people come to me, not to the laboratory or the library. As far as I’m concerned, you can come to Atlit as well.”

997009633359605171 — Rachel Yanait in 1915, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.

Yanait visited Aaronsohn’s laboratory and library in Zikhron Ya’akov and was impressed by what she saw. She excitedly described the treasures she discovered there:

“…I look and read from the covers, and I catch my breath at the sight of this rare treasure – books about nature and agriculture in the Land of Israel, in foreign languages and in Hebrew. A devoted and experienced hand selected and collected every book dedicated to knowledge of the natural environment of our land – the living and the inanimate, archeological and historical studies, from everything written about our land, whether written impressions from the field or research papers. Among the books are ancient folios, in illustrated leather-bound volumes that bring to mind my grandfather’s Gemara books and inspire awe and respect. From the adjacent wing comes the gentle scent of the rich herbarium. Here is the rare collection that the agronomist Aaronsohn collected from the wild herbs of the land as well as the collection of wild plants from lands of similar climate to our own…”

That very night, Yanait wrote to her friends in HaShomer: “In Zikhron, I’ve found study materials to my heart’s content. I will stay here as long as I can, and I will not be removed except for urgent matters of HaShomer. All I want is to learn and teach nature and agriculture, and this is the place to do it.”

From a Professional Relationship to True Friendship

At first, the relationship was quite formal, but their shared love of nature, landscapes, and the flora of the Land of Israel brought them closer.

Aaronsohn’s assistants accompanied Yanait on field excursions and taught her to work with plants. Not long after, Aaronsohn opened his library and home to her and even introduced her to his family.

Yanait informed her friends that she was going to stay there as long as possible, not only to learn but also because tending to the plants gave her peace of mind. The longer they worked together, the closer they got despite their arguments. Aaronsohn let her read an article he wrote about forestation in Israel, and Yanait shared with him her dream of seeing forestation of the land’s mountainous regions.

She also showed him a paper she wrote during her agricultural studies, and Aaronsohn told her, “…If you seek knowledge, put down the books, walk the length and breadth of the land, observe nature…”

One of their biggest debates was over the subject of Jewish labor. Yanait wrote the following about this: “Apparently, he never considered the question of what the future of our land will be if labor remains in foreign hands. I was sorry for this because Aaronsohn was an outstanding man of nature.”

For his part, Aaronsohn revealed how disappointed and insulted he was that hardly anyone from the local Jewish community acknowledged his achievements. “’Out there in the world, I am recognized,’ and he gritted his teeth, ‘and only here, in my land -,’ and here, he stopped speaking and his hands trembled in anger.”

997009636613805171 — Aaron Aaronsohn, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.

Their arguments continued, but they also continued to grow closer. The debates didn’t take away from their appreciation for one another. To the contrary, time and again Yanait was made aware of his positive opinion of her. Aaronsohn held no grudges over political differences, and Yanait enjoyed her time in Atlit. “Ever since I began my agricultural studies, I never had an agricultural experience like I had in Atlit.”

Many people from her own political camp in Zikhron didn’t approve of Yanait working at the experimentation station. She regretted that, and sadly stated: “What a great blessing it could have been for all of us, had we known how to forge direct ties with him, and what harm this feud between his people and ours has caused us all.”

Rachel Yanait agonized over the idea of sitting in a library and enjoying her time in the experimentation station while her friends in HaShomer faced various trials and tribulations. And yet, she kept returning to the station and immersing herself in the wonderful world of nature.

Rachel became friends with Aaron’s sister Sarah Aaronsohn, who had just returned home in 1915 after her failed marriage to a Jewish merchant who lived in Turkey. Aaron thought the two young women might realize they had a lot in common, and so he introduced them.

And that was further proof for Yanait that Aaronsohn thought well of her.

997009633582705171 — Sarah Aaronsohn, 1910-1912, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israe

Indeed, the two forged a great friendship, so great in fact that Rachel was invited on the siblings’ tours of the Carmel region. Rachel offered an amusing description of their search for particular plant specimens during one of these trips: “A few days passed, and Sarah came to the laboratory. She found me bent over the microscope and asked if I wanted to come with her on a tour of the mountain range on horseback…” Rachel rented a horse and joined. “…Suddenly, Aaronsohn commented that among the rocks he noticed a rare and special plant. He suggested I try – if I was indeed so passionate about plants – to find it without his help…” Rachel wandered about, pointing at various specimens, and Aaronsohn merely shook his head, angry that she couldn’t find what he had easily spotted. She was offended but continued searching until her eyes suddenly grew wide: “The queen of the wild plants was there right before my eyes – the rare wild orchid appeared in all its glory! I forgot the affront and exhaustion and took it in both hands as if I was holding a great deal of treasure, and Aaronsohn laughed.”

Sarah came back again to speak with her, sharing details about her terrible time in Constantinople with her husband, about her childhood and about her dear friend Avshalom Feinberg. It was as if Sarah had been seeking someone she could pour her heart out to. Rachel learned that Avshalom was the star of every field trip and party, and that there wasn’t a spot on the mountain range he was unfamiliar with. “And his eyes,” Sarah added, “shine brighter than every precious stone – that’s Avshalom!”

997009637145405171 — Sarah Aaronsohn and Avshalom Feinberg in Damascus in 1916, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.

Rachel thought to herself that Sarah was the same way. “Full of passion to do something even if there was nothing in return, no glory, and no boasting! And above all – Sarah is a country girl, a daughter of Zikhron Ya’akov, this is her home and her birthplace, she will never be taken away from this place ever again.”

A Final Conversation With Sarah and a Tragic Farewell

As is well documented, Avshalom, Aaron, and Sarah were the leaders of the Nili underground organization that spied on behalf of the British during World War I. The tragic developments that were to come heavily impacted the close relationships among this circle.

The rift began on the day that Avshalom Feinberg was released from prison, after the Ottomans caught and imprisoned him for a short period. He soon returned to the station in Atlit.

Rachel wouldn’t see Sarah again, except for one last time when Sarah came to visit her. Rachel would not forget their final conversation for the rest of her life. Sarah was surprised to see a book by Rabbi Nachman of Breslov on Rachel’s desk, which she had borrowed from Aaron’s library and hadn’t yet managed to read. Rachel told Sarah a legend about Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, and then Sarah asked her, “What do Hasidic legends have to do with nature research?” Rachel responded that “Rabbi Nachman, like the other great Hasidim, must have loved nature and understood the secrets of creation, and as far as I’m concerned, there is a connection between Hasidism and the nature of our land.” Afterwards, they spoke about suggesting to the newly formed Hebrew Language Committee that the title geveret (“missus”), which neither of them liked, be replaced with a more suitable title like adona for a married woman and adonit for an unmarried girl (feminine versions of the masculine Hebrew term for “master”). That was the last time they spoke.

Rachel worked at the experimentation station while the Aaronsohns were relaying reports to the British, as part of their work with Nili. She often came upon espionage material, but unlike the majority of the local Jewish community at the time, she apparently didn’t object to the idea of spying on the Ottomans, and in any case she truly loved working at the station and the people she met there.

Despite how much she enjoyed it, her work there came to a bitter end as soon as Aaron left for Europe, on his way to meet with the British. Aaron was replaced by his right-hand man and Sarah’s close friend Avshalom Feinberg. Despite his close friendship with Sarah, he managed the station with a firm hand and kicked Rachel out.

Rachel wrote about how he treated her: “The man who Sarah often described as chivalrous and benevolent seemed hostile and narrow-minded. It was clear that all he wanted was for me to disappear.”

Rachel left in distress and never set foot in Atlit again. It was only once the spy ring was discovered that Rachel understood the reasons for Feinberg’s behavior, but at the time, she felt badly hurt.

In January 1917, Avshalom was killed in the desert on his way to make contact with British forces and his body was only found decades later, following the Six-Day War. In October 1917, the Ottomans uncovered Nili. They arrested Sarah and subjected her to cruel torture. She eventually took her own life so as not to betray her friends.

After the spy ring was revealed and the station in Atlit was looted, Rachel’s sister thanked Avshalom, noting that his harsh treatment of Rachel had probably saved her life. In 1918, towards the end of the war, Rachel married Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, who was later elected the second President of the State of Israel.

997001386970405171 — Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi later in life, photo: Nadav Mann, Bitmuna. From the Edgar Hirschbein collection. Collection source: Tamar Levy. The Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

After the war, Rachel met Aaron at a meeting of the Zionist Commission, attended by Chaim Weizmann. Aaron turned to both Rachel and Weizmann at the same time and laughed, “I have never met as innocent a farmer as you. You were strange to the people of Atlit. Nothing mattered to you other than the plants and the field experiments. You didn’t understand a thing, you didn’t pay attention to anything other than the plants and fossils.”

He told Weizmann how he used to write Nili codes on the doorframe right in front of her and she’d buy his excuse that these markings were for meteorological purposes. Rachel admitted that nothing had interested her other than the plants in the station.

It’s interesting to imagine how their personal and professional friendship might have developed had Aaron Aaronsohn not died in 1919 in a mysterious plane crash on his way to the Paris Peace Conference.

The quotes in this article and a significant portion of the information were taken from Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi’s book Coming Home (published in Hebrew originally as Anu Olim – “We Ascend”), Massadah, 1963.

Feldenkrais: The Man Who Stood Ben-Gurion on His Head

He was an engineer and physicist who struggled with chronic physical pain, when he developed a unique theory of movement which attracted masses of practitioners and trainers around the world. One of these was Israel’s first Prime Minister, David Ben-Gurion, who succeeded in doing a headstand for the first time in his life, at the age of 70. This is the story of Moshe Feldenkrais.

Yael Ingel | 15.07.24

David Ben-Gurion History of Israel Israeli Culture

Dr. Moshe Feldenkrais (photo courtesy of the Association of Licensed Feldenkrais Method Trainers in Israel) and David Ben-Gurion standing on his head at Herzliya Beach, 1957 (Photo: Paul Goldman courtesy of the Photohouse).

There was one man who was able to tell David Ben-Gurion what to do. He even told him to stand on his head, and Ben-Gurion obeyed. His name was Moshe Feldenkrais, a gifted teacher of movement who accumulated many students and patients, one of which was Israel’s first Prime Minister. When asked how often Ben-Gurion practiced with him, he responded: “Every day.” When asked “what hours,” he responded: “It depends. When I have free time.”

הארץ 1 בנובמבר 1957 — Article about Moshe Feldenkrais in *Haaretz, November 1, 1957*. From the Historical Jewish Press Collection, the National Library of Israel

The first connection formed between Moshe Feldenkrais and David Ben-Gurion was a little odd:

In the early 1950s, Ben-Gurion suffered from lumbago, meaning he had severe lower back pain problems. After reports were published in the press about the Prime Minister’s physical discomfort, Ben-Gurion received a letter from a citizen who claimed he could cure him. The Prime Minister’s doctors, who saw the letter from a man named Moshe Feldenkrais lacking any professional medical training, dismissed him as a con artist. It was only on the eve of the Sinai Campaign in 1956, when Ben-Gurion once again suffered from back spasms, that he was visited by Professor Aharon Katzir, one of Israel’s top scientists, who advised he meet with his colleague – a physicist and judo expert. The man was not a doctor but he did have some original ideas in the field of orthopedics. This time, Ben-Gurion did not refuse the strange proposal.

Feldenkrais arrived at Ben-Gurion’s home where the Prime Minister was overseeing the Sinai Campaign from his bed, and gave him a thorough physical examination. Once it was completed, he announced: “You will need seventy lessons.” He added that “If you have not already committed yourself to attending the last class, you’d better not start with the first.” Ben-Gurion agreed to the strict conditions laid down by Feldenkrais, and the daily treatment of the Prime Minister began.

Where did Moshe Feldenkrais get the gall and the confidence to personally attend to the health of one of the most important people in the country?

Moshe Feldenkrais was born in 1904. Already at the age of 13, as a bar mitzvah gift, he made a special request of his parents – to allow him make Aliyah from Ukraine to the Land of Israel. With a simple satchel on his back, he set out on his way. Once there, he first worked in construction, and at this stage in his life there was little to hint of what was to come. With great effort, Feldenkrais completed his high school matriculation exams, after which he travelled to the Sorbonne in Paris to study engineering and physics. There, he completed a doctorate in physics cum laude, and afterwards worked as an engineer and physicist in military industry.

מארכיון הוגו ברגמן — Signed copy of the French version of Feldenkrais’ 1935 book on jiu-jitsu, dedicated to philosopher Samuel Hugo Bergman, who served as Director of the National Library of Israel. From the Samuel Hugo Bergman Archive, the National Library of Israel

In his youth, he took an interest in self-defense and read a book by Kanō Jigorō about the teaching of jiu-jitsu (Feldenkrais would later write the first book on the subject in Hebrew in 1930). As a youth growing up in Tel Aviv, he loved playing ball games with his friends, but in the last year of his studies in high school, he suffered a knee injury, causing him severe pains which kept him bedridden and limited his movement. Doctors at the time had no solution for him, and the only thing they could offer was a risky operation whose odds of recovery were only partial. Feldenkrais refused, and was determined to find another solution.

During his studies in France, he met Kanō, the author of the book he had read, who was impressed with this diligent and curious individual. Though he was an expert in jiu-jitsu as well, Kanō is famous today for having founded the martial art of judo, and Feldenkrais took advantage of his time in Paris to learn from him when he could. Feldenkrais would also later write the first Hebrew-language book on judo. In a letter from 1935 kept at the National Library of Israel, Feldenkrais tells of how Kanō was very impressed with his first book: “This is the best book written on this subject in a language which is not Japanese.” Kanō agreed to write an introduction to Feldenkrais’ book and even saw to it that the book be translated into Japanese.

Whatsapp Image 2024 07 01 At 13.20.47 — Cover of *Judo – The Art of Defense and Attack* [Hebrew], by Moshe Feldenkrais, the National Library of Israel collections

קטע מהמכתב מארכיון הוגו ברמן — Letter from Feldenkrais to Hugo Bergman about the jiu-jitsu book he wrote: “Here we see the first Hebrew book on physical culture which merited to be the first and only to be translated into the Japanese language in which the method was created”. From the Samuel Hugo Bergman Archive, the National Library of Israel

But that was just the beginning. Feldenkrais would later use all the knowledge he accumulated from his Japanese mentor, as well as his studies in engineering and physics, to invent a new theory of movement.

“I decided to see what action I took which led to my knee being strained,” he said an interview in 1957. When he began observing his body as a whole unit, he understood that he was not using it properly and that bad habits which he had accrued were causing him harm. Alongside his work as a physicist in military industry, Feldenkrais continued to develop his own unique theory in the field of movement, aimed at preventing pain and increasing acquaintance with the body. He devoted his scientific skills to try and understand his own physical condition: Why are there days where the knee hurts more than others? Does psychological stress affect it? He studied and investigated the matter but did not arrive at any new insights.

פלדנקרייז בצעירותו מתוך הספר ג'ו ג'יטסו והגנה עצמית 1931 — A young Moshe Feldenkrais. Picture from his first book *Jiu-Jitsu and Self Defense* (Hebrew), which came out in 1930, when he was just 26

One day, while hopping on his good leg, he slipped and injured it. Despairing and in pain, he lay in bed and fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke, he discovered that his “bad leg” had suddenly improved tremendously, and he was able to easily stand on it. He tried to understand what had happened, leading him to a revolutionary conclusion: in response to his second injury, his brain created new neural circuits, reorganizing his body’s response as a whole.

In the wake of these insights, Feldenkrais developed the ability to carefully observe physical phenomena and became highly sensitive to even the subtlest changes in his body. He created a series of sensory-kinetic experiments which usually took place when lying down on a mattress and which illuminated how the brain, body, and psyche all work together as a single unit. Following Feldenkrais’ discoveries, he adhered to self-healing, slowly improving his functioning to the point that he no longer needed surgery. He even taught himself to walk in a new and graceful manner, which served as the basis for the exercise method he developed, which is named after him – the Feldenkrais Method. His principles were found to be effective not only in solving common physical problems but also in helping those who suffered from developmental and neurological problems.

Whatsapp Image 2024 07 01 At 13.20.48.1 — *Personal Power – A Guide to Spontaneity* [Hebrew] by Moshe Feldenkrais

Whatsapp Image 2024 07 01 At 13.20.46 — *The Feldenkrais Method: Movement as a Means for Developing Awareness* [Hebrew] by Moshe Feldenkrais

The use of non-invasive methods to improve the nervous system and individual awareness on how to properly use the body were among the principles of the new method, which quickly became popular in Israel.

Back to Feldenkrais’ most important patient. At Ben-Gurion’s request, his therapy sessions with Feldenkrais were kept secret, but at one of their meetings, the Prime Minister let slip that he had never been able to stand on his head, even as a child. Feldenkrais, who saw an indelible link between body and soul, understood that despite their daily sessions, Ben-Gurion still had the “body image of a nebech” (Yiddish for “weak/helpless/unfortunate person”).

Feldenkrais had his own definition of what health meant: “My first definition of a healthy person is someone who can realize their undeclared dreams.” If these dreams are abandoned or repressed, he explained, they will continue to immiserate their dreamers.

He could not ignore Ben-Gurion’s passing comment and went about formulating a plan, at the end of which the unthinkable would happen (as far as Ben-Gurion was concerned), and “the Old Man”, as he was affectionately known, would indeed stand on his head. For the next month, the two worked on strengthening the body of the 70-year-old Ben-Gurion, and learning the movements to prepare for the headstand became the focus of their work. The results became apparent during Ben-Gurion’s trip to Herzliya Beach, made immortal by Paul Goodman’s camera in 1957. That famous frame of the Prime Minister in a bathing suit, nonchalantly and proudly standing on his head, would become iconic.

בן גוריון בחוף הרצליה 1957, הצלמניה — Ben-Gurion, Prime Minister of Israel, in his 70s, with his bodyguard David Bashari. Herzliya Beach, 1957. Photo: Paul Goldman, courtesy of the Photohouse

It wasn’t just Ben-Gurion who came to Feldenkrais for help. So did the famous violinist Yehudi Menuhin, Nachum Goldman (president of the Zionist Congress), Meyer Weisgal (president of the Weizmann Institute), Levi Eshkol (Israel’s Finance Minister and later Prime Minister), Pinchas Sapir (Minister of Commerce and Industry), Moshe Dayan (Chief of Staff and later Defense Minister), and many more.

He also wrote eight books which were translated into different languages. His students teach his method around the world to this day.

Feldenkrais passed away 40 years ago. This fascinating man who devoted his whole life to improving the quality of life of others, left behind a glorious legacy of students who continue to make the world a better place.

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In the preparation of this article, we made use of a Hebrew report from Maariv from September 20, 1957 (“B.G.’s Teacher”) and a Hebrew report from Haaretz from November 1, 1957 (“Moshe Feldenkrais and the Culture of the Body”), both of which can be found in the National Library’s Historical Jewish Press Collection. We also made use of Moshe Cohen-Gil’s book The Israelis Who Sought to Cure the World – Feldenkrais/Paula/Nezah/Hooppe [Hebrew].