“Israel’s Miss Manners” Extends an Outstretched Hand
While researching the history of Israeli social etiquette at the National Library, Noa Bavly accidently stumbled across a particular book that had once belonged to her great-grandmother, Hanna Bavly - Israel's own "Miss Manners"…
Hanna Bavly, Israel's queen of etiquette, and the book "Hanna Bavly is Rolling in Her Grave", written by her great-granddaughter Noa Bavly - images courtesy of Noa Bavly
When I was about to graduate from Bezalel Academy of Art and Design, I started thinking about my final project. I decided to create a book from scratch – designing it, forming the concept, choosing the format, the fonts and the images as well as the type of paper. I even made the book cover myself using several techniques and stitched and bound it by hand. In a digital age, I wanted to go back to the fundamentals and create a book whose pages cannot be swiped with a finger.
In order to choose a subject, I looked at my family and surroundings. I wanted to choose a personal subject that would also be relevant and timely. This led me to the idea of writing about current Israeli society from a historical and personal perspective, using the writings of my great-grandmother, the late Hanna Bavly, who was nicknamed “Israel’s Miss Manners.”
Hanna Bavly visiting a chemical plant in South Africa, photo courtesy of Noa Bavly
The production of the book required extensive and serious cultural and historical research. In my research I went to the National Library of Israel. Searching for books on manners and etiquette, I found an American book from the 1980s (The New Etiquette by Marjabelle Young Stewart, St. Martin’s Press) and took it out. Upon opening the book, on the inside cover, was a surprise. An outstretched hand from the past. In the first page of the book was an inscription that noted the book had once been a part of my great-grandmother Hanna Bavly’s personal collection (she had hundreds of books on the subject), and was donated to the National Library by her son after her death.
Noa Bavly was surpised to learn that the book she had loaned from the National Library of Israel (The New Etiquette by Marjabelle Young Stewart, St. Martin’s Press) was donated to the NLI by her own great-grandmother, Hanna Bavly
But as I said, Hanna Bavly’s meticulous manners were just a starting point for a timely and relevant statement. The book I designed focuses on manners—or more precisely—the lack of manners in Israeli society. It draws a line between the iconic figure of Hanna Bavly (whose name became synonymous with manners and etiquette) and contemporary Israel.
Hanna Bavly was Israel’s leading expert on etiquette and manners. Above is a page from The New Etiquette by Marjabelle Young Stewart, which Bavly donated to the National Library of Israel
The book’s third chapter, titled “The Dream and Its Downfall” contrasts Hanna’s manners and etiquette advice from her “Questions and Answers” column that she wrote from the early 1960s until the late 1980s with cringeworthy, embarrassing, humorous, vulgar, and iconic moments in Israeli culture and public life. The chapter focuses on four aspects in which vulgarity prevails: interpersonal relationships, politics, table manners and road rage.
Two of Hanna Bavly’s newspaper columns on etiquette – on the left Hanna advises one of her readers not to intervene in the work of the waiting staff at a restaurant, even when a pile of dirty dishes is waiting to be removed. On the right – Hanna advises a woman who is consistently ignored by her husband during social encounters to take initiative and not wait to be introduced – “Introduce yourself, with your full name and position, to any person whom you feel it is right and necessary for you to know. It is likely that after a few such independent introductions, your husband will change his practice.” – courtesy of Noa Bavly
The other three chapters include an introduction to the history of manners in both Israeli and universal context, a chapter on the life and work of Hanna Bavly and a closing chapter featuring relevant academic articles that broaden the perspective and view.
A poster promoting a lecture and Q&A session in Tel Aviv with Hanna Bavly, titled “Our Manners – What We Have and What We Desire”, November 11, 1967. The Tel Aviv – Yafo City Archives, available via the NLI digital collection
I tailored the design to match the content of the chapters: the first two chapters, focusing on the history of manners, etiquette, and Hanna Bavly herself, as well as the fourth (academic) chapter, are designed with restraint and sophistication. The third chapter however, which contrasts Hanna’s polite advice with Israeli reality, is designed in a wild style reminiscent of trashy tabloids.
I designed the book in a way that recalled Hanna’s columns – just like Hanna, I too decided that a serious message can best be conveyed with a healthy dose of humor. I kept the original titles and Q&As of Hanna Bavly’s columns and incorporated them in my book ironically. This choice contributes to the critical, ironic and amusing language of the book.
Hanna Bavly is Rolling in Her Grave, by Noa Bavly
The book Hanna Bavly is Rolling in Her Grave is my final project for the Department of Visual Communication at Bezalel Academy of Art and Design in Jerusalem. I am grateful and appreciative to my final project mentor, Idan Vaaknin, for his close and enriching guidance. He was the perfect role model teaching me a lot and providing me with a significant experience. I am hoping to publish my book soon so stay tuned.
The story of how one man's successful photography company was able to document life in Israel across several decades. Why did he later decide to destroy his life's work? Dan Hadani is celebrating his 100th birthday, and to mark it he told us of his personal journey which led him to granting all of us an invaluable gift of photographic documentation. This was his creation – now it’s our story.
Left: Dan Hadani during a visit to the National Library of Israel, 2024. Right: Dan Hadani taking photos during a visit to Egypt during the peace talks, 1977. Photo by David Peretz, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
On August 24, 2024, Dan Hadani marked his 100th birthday. He celebrated this joyous event with a party, almost an act of defiance against life itself – against everything he experienced as a child in Poland, against everything the State of Israel has been through, and against the terrible ordeals of the past year – letting everyone know: I’m still here!
He uses a walker and is easily tired, but his mind is clear and sharp and his memory promises to provide us with a fascinating story, spread out over a century, a story which cannot be done justice even with a thousand pictures.
In the hundred years that have passed since his birth, he has managed to reinvent himself a number of times and live multiple lives with the resourcefulness of the proverbial cat. In his most significant incarnation, the one based in Israel, he built one of the most important visual archives collected here with his own two hands, a monumental life project for one man.
In 2016, that project faced destruction – at the hands of its creator. After decades of devotion to photographs and documentation, Hadani decided that the two million negatives, meticulously cataloged and a photographic testament to events in Israel from 1965 to 2000, would be destroyed.
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Dan Hadani was born Dunek Zloczewski in Lodz, Poland.
He began life as a Polish Jew raised by a Zionist family. As a child, he saw his parents take pride in their work and craft, and that striving for professional excellence became a part of him. From his father, he learned the difficulty of living as a Jew in a state that was not his own, dealing with emerging antisemitism, and the importance of mutual aid and charitable works.
He spent his youth trying to survive in the Lodz Ghetto and then in Auschwitz, where he met Dr. Mengele and where he was largely able to avoid the wrath of his Nazi workmasters. He managed to survive and to offer support to others who suffered worse fates. He used everything he had – knowledge of languages, the ability to learn quickly, as well as technical skills – in order to show how necessary he was to the SS men. At the same time, he served as an assistant to the ghetto doctor and tried to do everything he could to help his friends in need.
In 1945, Hadani was freed from Nazi captivity. His parents and his only sister, however, had already been murdered by the Nazis. Although he had other options, Hadani felt it was clear that he would fulfill his parents’ unwritten will, realizing their Zionist dream and making Aliyah to Israel.
A year later, Hadani went to study seamanship in Italy. He passed the course with flying colors and immediately returned to Israel: “I came on Aliya Dalet – 3,000 people with forged passports. I had a Dutchman’s passport, a Jew who lived in Israel.”
A day after he arrived, he was enlisted in the navy of a country that had just been established: “I didn’t know a word in Hebrew; here and there ‘Shalom’ or words like that,” he recalled. “But on the ship the orders were in Hebrew. I often asked ‘What’s that word?” and they translated it for me. That’s how I learned. There were a hundred and twenty soldiers on the ship, the vast majority of them new immigrants and they gave us orders in this way. That’s how I learned Hebrew.”
It wasn’t the first time Hadani was thrown into a situation alone and without basic knowledge. As he had done before, he used his amazing resourcefulness and survival abilities to develop within the navy, from a new immigrant who knew no Hebrew to an officer who served for 15 years.
David Ben-Gurion, photographed by Dan Hadani on Israel’s 25th Independence Day. May 7, 1973, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
And then, somewhat surprisingly, his last appointment in the IDF was as a press officer for the IDF Spokesperson’s Unit. The change had a dramatic effect on him: “In the IDF Spokesperson’s Unit I received the shock of my life. I met with reporters at Sokolov House, suddenly I heard all the stories.” Instead of making efforts to hide secret operational activity, Hadani now had to think differently. As a press officer, he was responsible for managing, accompanying, and briefing journalists and photographers from Israel and around the world, helping them cover events related to the IDF. This, he admits, was his apprenticeship in journalism.
When he was released from the IDF a year later, he had a clear idea of what he wanted to do next. He was 41 years old: “The moment I got out of the army, I had an idea what I would do. I wanted to form an association, a group of photographers, and open a company, a cooperative of press photographers. I wanted to be the one organizing it, just like I was during my time in the IDF Spokesperson’s Unit.”
While serving in the unit, Hadani had identified the need for a professional agency for photography and press purposes, which could quickly cover events across the country: “I wanted to establish a large cooperative and see to people’s livelihood. I saw that we lacked a specific body in the country, that we weren’t initiating contact with people from outside of Israel, with the foreign press.” Everyone who heard the idea tried to talk him out of it, saying it was too big a project for him and that he would fail before he even started.
Despite this, he gathered together some photographers he knew to pitch the idea: “Some 10, 12 photographers came, and I told them what I wanted to do. And then one photographer got up in the middle and asked: ‘Tell me, you want us to run out and take pictures while you sit in the office? I’ll be running around and you’ll get money to sit at a desk? You want me to hand over my salary to you?”
An article and photos by Dan Hadani, dedicated to artists Meir and Makvalla Pichhadze. Maariv, February 20, 1976, the Historical Jewish Press Collection at the National Library of Israel
Nothing came of the meeting, but Hadani wouldn’t give up and decided to go it alone. For many long months, he worked as a freelance photographer, even getting writing opportunities from foreign journalists: “If I needed a photographer, I ordered a photographer for pay – on one condition: that the negatives were mine,” he said. When at one point he couldn’t find a photographer, he bought a camera and began taking his own pictures.
Slowly but surely, Hadani gained success and clients, ultimately realizing the dream he envisioned when he first left the army. He established the Israel Press & Photo Agency, or IPPA. He worked with salaried and freelance photographers, both in Israel and around the world. Over the course of 45 years of activity, the agency covered almost every important event in Israel: if there was a big concert, government meeting, or terror attack – Hadani’s photographers were there. In fact, if you were reading newspaper reports about Israel during this time, you probably saw thousands of his agency’s photographs.
Hadani took care to properly preserve all the photos he received and all the rights he acquired. With admirable care for detail, he cataloged and maintained the negatives from all the photos which reached the agency, quietly cultivating an archive which documented much of life in the State of Israel at ground level.
Hadani is proud, and rightly so, of his journalistic achievements: The photo of the father of Robert Kennedy’s assassin, Sirhan Sirhan, reading a newspaper with the article on the murder, became world-famous. A photo showing Menachem Begin bending over before Anwar Sadat and Jimmy Carter (he was picking something up) during a peace treaty ceremony was also a hit and a nice change from the generally rigid statesmanship of the time. There was also an article featuring the first photos of legendary Soviet WWII-era spy Leopold Trepper following his arrival in Israel. Trepper immigrated in 1974 and spent the last few years of his life in the country. To this we can add hundreds of thousands of pictures, piles of film documenting major cultural and political events as well as wars and terrorist attacks.
A photo by Dan Hadani, showing Israeli PM Menachem Begin bent over next to Egyptian President Anwar Sadat. US President Jimmy Carter is standing behind Sadat. This photo was taken on March 25, 1979, ahead of the signing of the historic peace treaty between Israel and Egypt. The Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
When he decided to close the agency and retire, he didn’t know what would become of the archival treasure trove he had developed over decades: “I created something that doesn’t exist in the country. It was my own little quirk. It’s hard for me today to understand how I even ended up doing it. You cultivate it. You keep perfecting it. And it’s hard. It’s hard to let go…”
He tried to find a place which would take his life’s work in its entirety and understand its incredible inherent value. After a few years of fruitless searches and failed deals, he decided with sadness to destroy the project he had dedicated much of his life to: “I was about to buy two shredders to begin destroying the negatives. I cried. To destroy such a thing? I knew there was a treasure here.”
Fortunately, Hadani discussed his intentions with his daughter-in-law, Batya Calderon, who quickly appealed to Dr. Hezi Amiur, curator of the Israel Collection at the National Library. Amiur immediately understood the value of this archive and succeeded in convincing Hadani to provide the National Library with the entire collection, which could then serve the broader public.
Despite the great difficulty in saying goodbye to the illustrious project he’d cultivated for years, Hadani had finally found a home for his life’s work: “I am happy and I am content,” he said. “I am very proud that it’s in the best hands I could have dreamed of.”
Watch our special interview with Dan Hadani (English subtitles available via Youtube’s auto-translate option)
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Even at 100 years old, Hadani refuses to sit back and take it easy. Last year, he built up a website on the Wix platform which tells the story of his life and his journalistic achievements, as well as other challenges he overcame in life. He still drives a car and takes care to remain curious and incisive, even today: “I expect and am waiting to enjoy the future. And I will rest a little, because I work very hard.”
With the look of a sober, knowledgeable man, keenly aware of the past and looking firmly towards the future, he made a very specific request in honor of his birthday: “I want to see a good future. I want to see the state I built. Today I don’t see it.”
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 TheDelta Force, starring Norris, was filmed at the studio, but not its two sequels.
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.”
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
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.”
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.
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!”
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.
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.
