A screening at the Docu.Text festival. Photo: Yoni Kelberman
By Zack Rothbart
Four acclaimed documentary films will have their Israeli big-screen premieres at the fifth annual Docu.Text Documentary Film Festival at the National Library of Israel in Jerusalem, August 18-22, 2019. Two of the premiered films will be virtual reality (VR)/augmented reality (AR) experiences offered to festival goers for the first time. Docu.Text will feature dozens of indoor and outdoor screenings, special tours, conversations with filmmakers and experts, as well as a concert on the National Library Plaza featuring Israeli rocker Dudu Tassa exploring his grandfather’s Iraqi musical roots.
An immersive portrait of Daniel Patrick Moynihan, the ground-breaking intellectual, policy specialist, ambassador and long-serving New York senator
The four premieres are: “Moynihan“, an immersive portrait of intellectual, diplomat and legendary New York senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan; “Zikr: A Sufi Revival“, which takes participants on an interactive VR journey into the world of ecstatic ritual, dance and music in Tunisia; “East of the Rockies“, an AR experience about the forced displacement of Japanese-Canadians during World War II; and “Paul Auster – What If“, offering 70 years of American history through the renowned author’s eyes.
“Paul Auster – What if?”: A look at 70 years of American history through the eyes of one if its great authors
Besides film screenings and the VR/AR area, the festival program includes a number of special events. Following the screening of “Moynihan”, the film’s director Toby Perl Freilich will talk with Mike Herzog, retired IDF brigadier general and current Milton Fine International Fellow of The Washington Institute, whose father Chaim worked closely with Moynihan when the two were ambassadors to the UN at the time of the infamous “Zionism is Racism” decision in 1975.
The American creators of the VR experience “Zikr: A Sufi Revival” will also be at the festival, where they will talk about experiential storytelling.
“Zikr – A Sufi Revival”: An interactive virtual reality journey into the world of ecstatic ritual, dance and music in Tunisia
The “Truth be Told” one-day seminar will focus on the issues of cultural responsibility and creative copyright, examining the place of the Library, which is charged with preservation of knowledge in an era where it seems that truth is more relative than ever. The seminar will be held in cooperation with the Forum of Documentary Filmmakers.
Docu.Text 5 will close with “Iraq N’ Roll”, the story of popular Israeli rocker Dudu Tassa’s personal journey to reconnect with the musical legacy of his grandfather, Daud al-Kuwaity, who along with his brother Saleh was one of the most celebrated musicians in the Arab world of the 1930s and all but forgotten in 1950s Israel. The film will be followed by a concert by Dudu Tassa and the Kuwaitis, who recently toured with Radiohead, as they celebrate this journey in music live on stage.
Israeli rocker Dudu Tassa explores his Iraqi roots through music
Docu.Text is a collaboration with Docaviv, and is made possible with support from Carole and Saul Zabar, Bader Philanthropies and an anonymous donor.
Marilyn Monroe was given the honor of kicking off the game between Hapoel and a team of U.S. All-Stars. Photo: Eliyahu Atar
In 1957, a special telegram was sent to the Hapoel Tel Aviv soccer team. Just before embarking on a celebratory trip to the United States on the occasion of the ninth anniversary of the State of Israel, the players were asked “Which American would you like to meet during your trip?” The players answered without hesitation: “As athletes, we would like to meet with the Brooklyn Dodgers. As men – with Marilyn Monroe.” This required quite a few strings to be pulled and quite a few phone calls to be made, but eventually the players’ wish came true.
The glitzy event featured a friendly soccer match on May 12th, 1957 between Hapoel and a team of American All-Stars, which took place under the slogan “Long Live the State of Israel!” The venue was historic Ebbets Field, home of the Brooklyn Dodgers, who would move out to sunny Los Angeles later that year. In the stands were New York Mayor Robert Wagner, Israeli Ambassador to the United States Abba Eban, senators, cultural figures, representatives of Jewish organizations and many more. To top it all off, none other than Mrs. Marilyn Monroe would have the honor of kicking off the game!
Footage of the Historic Moment:
“Suddenly an open convertible burst into the stadium,” wrote Dan Pachter in Davar, an Israeli newspaper, “and in the backseat, there she was – the Hapoel mascot – the movie star, Marilyn Monroe!!! Three exclamation points will not suffice to emphasize the enthusiasm of the crowd. Marilyn rose to her feet and waved to every section of the audience – the same fair-haired Marilyn, who so artfully demonstrates her natural mischief. A marching band and a group of cheerleaders strode before her and behind them – the two teams in line.”
But the climax was what happened next: “The blonde movie star appeared on the field in minimal blue attire, featuring cleavage that occasionally tended to delve into dangerous dimensions,” the Herut newspaper reported. “Marilyn had to kick the ball no less than three times – twice for the many photographers who had gathered on the field and once for the soccer players.”
The cover of “Soccer”, a monthly Hebrew magazine, June 1957. From left to right: Legendary Israeli goalkeeper Ya’akov Hodorov, Marilyn Monroe and New York State Supreme Court Justice Samuel Leibowitz
And while we wish the report ended here, this was not the case: “Her second kick scored a direct hit – right in the face of United Press photographer Joel Landau. After the final kick, the actress left the field limping, while leaning on the arm of the happily beaming Judge Samuel Leibowitz, her official chaperone for the game.”
The Hapoel team ended up winning the thrilling match by the score of 6 to 4. Legendary Israeli goalkeeper Ya’akov Khodorov had a few particularly close moments with Monroe – holding her hand, speaking with her and taking pictures with her several times. Unsurprisingly, after the game was over, he was asked if the four goals he conceded were a result of being starstruck by the celebrity actress.
Ya’akov Khodorov kisses Marilyn Monroe on the cheek. Photo: Eliyahu Atar, published in Davar on May 31st, 1957. Click the image to see the full article featuring more pictures.
“The papers wrote that I got confused and let in some unnecessary goals because I had been near Marilyn Monroe,” the goalkeeper said after the game. “True, I was a little excited, but who wouldn’t be excited next to her?”
The year was 1959. The pioneer Israeli automobile manufacturer, Autocars, decided to announce the arrival of a new Israeli vehicle to the general public. This was no trivial matter – in the midst of very difficult years for the young state, while many automobile companies around the world were boycotting Israel due to pressure from the Arab world, this “blue and white” vehicle was exciting and important news. The big question was: What should this new Israeli car be called?
In order to market the upcoming release of the new automobile, Autocars turned to the public for help and published an ad in the newspapers: “Name the First Israeli Car.” To seal the deal, prize money was offered for the winner of the campaign.
Autocars’ announcement of a naming competition for the first Israeli automobile
Like many in Israel, Yosef Shuv, a newly married agriculture student from Rehovot, saw the ad in the paper. His stroke of brilliance came to him while sitting (of all places) on the toilet. “One day I went into the bathroom and said to myself, ‘Okay, this is the moment I come up with the name. It’s now or never,'” he recalls, “and I immediately thought of the names of Israeli historical sites. I thought that an Israeli car should be named for an Israeli place. Susita was an ancient city east of the Sea of Galilee, and I immediately realized that it was an extraordinary name. “
An aerial photograph of the Susita archaeological site. Photo: Michael Eisenberg
It seems that everyone wanted to be a part of the historic naming of the first Israeli car. No less than 2,355 entries arrived at the Autocars offices in Haifa. And, in the last week of 1959, Shuv was informed that the name he had proposed- “Susita” -was chosen from the thousands of entries. The ancient name incorporates the Hebrew word sus, meaning horse. The city’s name in Greek, Hippos, has the same meaning.
It seems that Shuv was not alone in his moment of brilliance, however. Others had, in fact, proposed the same name. Autocars management therefore held a raffle to decide who would win the actual prize money, and it was here that Shuv’s luck came into play, with his name being selected for the grand prize of 500 Israeli pounds (the currency which preceded the New Israeli Shekel). The prize money was a considerable sum for the newlywed student.
But this was not the end of Yosef Shuv’s relationship with the Susita. When he was informed of his victory, Shuv insisted on seeing the factory for himself to observe how the first Israeli car was manufactured. Later, he fulfilled another dream when – thanks to a large discount from Autocars – he purchased his first Susita.
But alas, Shuv’s Susita didn’t last long and was soon involved in an accident with a flashy Renault. Shuv was unharmed, but his Susita was another story.
The accident involving Shuv’s first Susita, 1964. Photographed on Aluf Sadeh Road, Ramat Gan
By now, he was hooked and the new automobile enthusiast used the insurance money to buy his second Susita.
The second Susita. Photographed in 1968 in the courtyard of the Shuv family home in Ganei Am. Sarah Shuv is behind the wheel. Photo: Yosef Shuv
Later on, he would exchange it for a third – this time the station wagon model.
The Shuvs’ third Susita, transporting Gerbera plants, 1972. Photo: Yosef Shuv.
His children fondly remember the trips to school in the beloved Susita. When the family moved to the United States for a year in 1972, Yosef again parted from his Susita, this time for good.
The second Susita. Amos Shuv, Yosef’s son, is about a year and a half old in this picture. Photo: Yosef Shuv.
Aside from naming the Susita, the young student managed to go on to accomplish a few other things in his lifetime. Dr. Ysef Shuv is a world expert and cultivator of Gerbera flowers, and even won the Minister of Agriculture Prize for his work.
Dr. Yosef Shuv at the Ganei Am greenhouse, 1983
Finally, we asked Dr. Shuv the controversial question that has perplexed many when it comes to the legend of the Susita: Was the first Israeli automobile indeed a delicacy for hungry desert-roaming camels? “The myth about camels liking to chew on Susitas is, of course, nonsense,” Shuv answered definitively. As an award-winning agricultural expert, he probably knows what he’s talking about.
The third Susita, a station wagon. Photographed on a family trip to the Elah Valley, 1972. Photo: Yosef Shuv.
The Brazilian-Israeli Who Was Sent to the Front, Captured, and Returned in a Syrian Uniform
The story of the prisoner of war, Julio Friedman, whose picture was identified by his family as part of the National Library’s 'Naming the Soldiers' project
“This is a picture that we, the family, didn’t know about,” says Clarinia, the sister of Julio Friedman, who appears in the center of the picture. When we told her about the National Library’s ‘Naming the Soldiers’ project in honor of Israel’s 71st Independence Day, we could hear the excitement in her voice. Her voice would break more than once throughout the course of our conversation as she relived those distant, unpleasant days.
Clarinia begins the story in 1970. This was the year she (then married with a child and a second on the way) immigrated to Israel with her brother, Julio. Julio first worked picking bananas (“he was a big, strong man”) while he learned Hebrew in an ulpan, a Hebrew-language school for new immigrants (olim). After he was able to save up a bit of money, he bought a Volkswagen van and used it to drive around a troupe of flamenco dancers he had met. He also found work as a technician at Israel Aerospace Industries (IAI).
Julio, Clarinia, and many others who emigrated from Brazil to Israel found it difficult to master the new language of Hebrew. This fact would prove to play a crucial role when Julio joined the IDF.
After two and a half years in Israel, Julio, who was 26 when he immigrated to Israel, was called up to serve a shortened military service that was compulsory for olim – six months of service. He would not, however, even have the opportunity to complete the three-month basic training. Less than two and a half months after his enlistment, the Yom Kippur War broke out. Julio was dispatched to the northern front – the embattled Golan Heights.
Private Julio Friedman
On the second day of the war, Clarinia felt something was wrong. The day before, she and her friends were baffled by a siren going off on Yom Kippur and what the illogical sentences crackling out of the radio meant. It was not until Golda Meir herself broadcast a dramatic announcement over the airwaves that the members of the Brazilian immigrant community in Herzliya understood that something serious had occurred. Thanks to a neighbor who decoded the Hebrew message by translating it into her mother tongue, Romanian (“Portuguese and Romanian are both Latin languages, so we managed to understand a little”), the members of the small community of Brazilian-Israelis understood that a war had broken out over the High Holiday.
Only several hours after getting her bad feeling, uniformed soldiers knocked on Clarinia’s door. They explained that since Julio had left basic training a few days prior, they thought it was best to return a package that Clarinia had previously sent to her brother. The soldiers did not know to which base Julio had been dispatched. They had only come to return the package out of courtesy. At that very moment, no one in the IDF knew that Julio had already been captured by Syrian forces, and was apparently being taken by his captors to the Syrian capital. Over the next two weeks, he would undergo a series of interrogations and mistreatment. Afterwards, he and other Israeli prisoners of war would be held in the Al-Mezzeh prison, overlooking Damascus
Through a family friend, Clarinia and her husband discovered that Julio’s most likely last known location – or, more precisely, the location of an Israeli soldier of Brazilian origin – was in a bunker in the north of the country. Their attempt to track down the last person to see Julio alive led them to a soldier who was healing from an ear injury at a base in Acre. This was all the information that Clarinia and her husband had to go on. They did not know the name of the soldier or what he looked like. The couple traveled to the base in search of information and answers.
When they arrived, Clarinia and her husband received confirmation that a soldier who was recovering from an ear injury and had been in a bunker in the north was indeed assigned to the base. But, he had received a weekend pass and had already left the base. The couple spoke with the base commander, but he did not know the name of the soldier in question. The commander only knew that he was of Indian origin and lived in Lod.
Clarinia and her husband tracked down the soldier at the cinema in Lod, and he was able to confirm that the missing Brazilian soldier who was with him and two other soldiers in the bunker was indeed Julio. He explained that the situation in the bunker had been dire. Except for Julio, all of the soldiers in the bunker had been wounded. Supplies were running dangerously low, so Julio volunteered to venture out of the safety of the bunker in search of water. “We heard words in Arabic and we did not know what happened after that,” the soldier explained to Clarinia and her husband. It was only after his return from captivity that Julio told his sister that he thought that the Syrian soldiers he heard were speaking in Hebrew, which led him to approach them for help.
“We informed Julio’s direct superior of what we had learned. Three or four IDF commanders showed up with maps in their hands, to tell us what they thought had happened.” Then, Clarinia repeated a sentence that is burned painfully in her mind to this day, a sentence uttered by one of the commanders. “Do not think too much about it. In the first few days of a war, you do not take prisoners.”
The war that had broken out on October 6, 1973 was officially ended with a ceasefire on October 24. Although the ceasefire had officially gone into effect, Israelis and Syrians would continue to exchange fire along the border into 1974. It was in February, 1974, that US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger was able to obtain the full list of Israeli prisoners from the Syrian government. On the night the list was released to the public, another military delegation knocked on Clarinia’s door. “This time, it was a sweet young female soldier who informed us that Julio was on the list of prisoners. Until that moment, we still did not know what had happened to him.” It was only then that Clarinia phoned her mother, who had stayed behind in Brazil, to inform her of her brother’s situation. This was the first time that she had told their mother that anything was wrong.
Kissinger’s list paved the way for the Red Cross to become involved in the conflict, and a connection between the prisoners in Syria and their home country was established. “That’s how we saw him for the first time, in a photo sent by the Red Cross. He very thin, but alive.”
Julio Friedman and other prisoners return from Syrian captivity. June 6, 1974. From the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
The return of the prisoners, which was planned for May, was postponed to June 6, 1974. David Avaky spent the eight months of captivity as Julio’s cellmate. In the conversation we held with David, he told us about the moment the prisoners realized that they were returning to Israel. “We had one jailer who treated us very well…He spoke with us on a human level…One day he came in to visit a wounded soldier and asked him to collect all his personal effects and come with him. We were used to the Syrians taking us away for short periods of time. But, having the soldier take his things with him was something new. Half an hour later, he returned and spoke with us about the history of the region, about Israel and Syria. He told us that all the wounded were being returned to Israel and that he was going on holiday. ‘Inshallah, we will not meet again when I return.’ Indeed, a week later, we returned to Israel. In the days following his visit, we felt the relationship begin to change. But, the biggest change was the day before we were released. They brought us sports clothes and took us out to exercise. Representatives of the Red Cross were there, and they informed any prisoners who were still in the dark about our planned return home. We remained skeptical the entire trip south to the border.”
Julio Friedman, together with other Israelis held in captivity, are hosted by the Jewish community in Switzerland. 1976 (Julio is standing in the back, on the left side of the picture, sporting an impressive mustache)
Clarinia remembered the day that the prisoners returned to Israel. At the welcoming ceremony, the IDF placed the families behind a barrier. In front of the barrier was a platform for Prime Minister Golda Meir and Defense Minister Moshe Dayan, who were supposed to meet the prisoners first. “As soon as the blue plane with the Red Cross touched down on the tarmac, there was no barrier that could hold us back.”
Among the last of the prisoners to disembark the plane was Julio. He could not walk. When Clarinia finally saw Julio’s smiling face, she saw that he was missing his two front teeth. This was the first sign of the horrors that he had endured. “Were you wounded in the leg?” asked his worried sister. Her brother explained that he was not, but that he had been given shoes three sizes too small. And why was he the only soldier dressed in Syrian army uniform? “I did not believe it. I refused to take off my prison uniform until my feet stood on Israeli soil.”
Julio talked with his sister about his captivity for three days and nights. It was during this release of emotions that he revealed to Clarinia the atrocities he had endured in Syria. After the three days, he never spoke of his captivity again. Julio died in 2008 after a long struggle with cancer, a disease that the IDF later recognized as a result of Julio’s coping with his time in captivity. His two children knew almost nothing of this period of his life. It was only at their father’s shiva that Clarinia told them the story that Julio had revealed during the first three days after his return.
At the end of our conversation with Clarinia, we asked about the man he was. Who was the man who had experienced these terrible things at the hands of his captors? Who was the man who had told her everything over three days and never spoke of it again? He later married, adopted two children, and raised a family. Did his captivity change his character? Clarinia says no. Julio was an easy-going character. He allowed troubles to pass by him, all the while remaining stable and unchanging. “That’s the only way he got through it,” she said, adding that there was one thing Julio was not able to overcome, “Only the noise of keys, that was the only noise that bothered him.”
Julio’s wife, Bella Friedman, identified the picture of her husband returning from captivity in a post that we published. The couple, who first met in the Hashomer Hatzair youth movement in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, met again in Israel in 1974. In February 1975 they married. Bella was also the one who recommended we speak to Clarinia and David Avaki.
Julio and Bella Friedman
We would like to thank Bella, Clarinia, and David for sharing Julio’s story with us, as well as their own memories, and especially for opening their hearts to us.
