Growing Up in a Jewish Enclave: A Personal Journey of Discovery
The 1950s and 1960s were a time of innocence and wonder for me as I grew up in Fair Lawn, New Jersey. My hometown, nestled in Bergen County just 12 miles west of New York City, was a vibrant Jewish community. Nearly all of our neighbors were Jewish, and the streets were lined with familiar names like Fishman, Kutner, and Broslovsky. This sense of belonging and togetherness was central to my childhood, but it wasn’t until much later that I realized the fuller story of our neighborhood—and the secrets it held.
Growing up, I lived just a block away from Radburn, a historic 149-acre community that was once a symbol of innovation and progressive planning. Yet, unbeknownst to me, Radburn had a darker history. Despite its reputation as a forward-thinking enclave, Radburn was once a place where Jews were systematically excluded from owning homes. This realization would later hit me with profound force, especially given how deeply intertwined my life was with Radburn. I attended Radburn Elementary School, played in its parks, and my father managed the Radburn Plaza Building. In many ways, I was a part of Radburn, even though I never lived within its borders.
Unveiling the Hidden History of Radburn
The truth about Radburn’s past is both shocking and sobering. From the 1930s to the 1950s, Radburn was a place where Jews were unwelcome. This exclusion was not merely a matter of informal prejudice but was enforced through systemic practices. Developers and real estate agents openly discouraged Jewish families from buying homes in the area, and in some cases, residents even banded together to prevent Jewish families from moving in. Janet Moss Kass, a former Radburn resident, recalls how her family faced opposition when they tried to buy a house in the neighborhood in 1950. “The word in the neighborhood got out that a Jew and his family—my mother and father—were about to buy a house in Radburn,” she says. “Several of the families surrounding the house pooled some money, approached the seller, and offered to buy the house out from under my parents in order to ‘stop Jews from moving into Radburn.’” Her family eventually moved in, becoming one of the few Jewish families in Radburn at the time.
This pattern of exclusion was not unique to Radburn. As historian Hasia R. Diner explains, such practices were common in suburbs across the United States. Developers often used restrictive covenants to keep out Jews and other minority groups. While no written policy explicitly banned Jews from living in Radburn, there was an unspoken understanding among real estate investors that the area was to be “restricted.” This meant that realtors would often steer Jewish families away, suggesting they might be “more comfortable” living elsewhere in town.
The Impact of Exclusion on Jewish Families
The stories of Jewish families in Radburn are a testament to the deep-seated prejudices of the time. For many, the experience of being excluded from Radburn left lasting scars. One Jewish resident recalls being ostracized as a child in the 1950s. “A girl on our block had a birthday party and invited all her classmates except me,” she says. Another resident remembers being taunted with antisemitic slurs like “kike” and “dirty Jew” on his way to school. These experiences were not isolated incidents but part of a broader pattern of exclusion that shaped the lives of Jewish families in Radburn.
Despite these challenges, some Jewish families did manage to break down the barriers. The Schoenberg family, for example, was among the first Jewish families to move into Radburn in the early 1950s. Their arrival sparked a wave of panic, with six of the 16 houses on their cul-de-sac going up for sale within weeks. “Nobody knew what a Jew looked like or how we were going to act,” recalls Steve Schoenberg, who was just 3 years old at the time. “Were we going to ruin the neighborhood? Drive property values down? I guess people had no idea what to expect.”
The Role of Real Estate and Restrictive Covenants
The exclusion of Jews from Radburn was not just the result of informal prejudice but was reinforced by the real estate industry. Developers and realtors played a key role in maintaining the area’s homogeneity, often using restrictive covenants to keep out minority groups. These covenants, which were commonly used in suburban developments across the United States, were designed to enforce racial and religious segregation. While the Supreme Court ruled in 1948 that such covenants were unenforceable, the practice of discrimination persisted in many areas, including Radburn.
Clarence Stein, the original planner of Radburn, envisioned the community as a non-Jewish enclave. Despite being Jewish himself, Stein believed that limiting the number of Jews in Radburn was necessary to attract more non-Jewish residents. This cfear that a Jewish presence would deter non-Jews from moving into the area was a common attitude among real estate developers at the time. As Scott Richman, regional director of the Anti-Defamation League for New York and New Jersey, explains, “Restrictive covenants for segregated housing were fairly widely used after World War I in suburban America to keep out Jews and others.”
Healing and Reconciliation Over Time
In the decades since the exclusionary practices of Radburn’s past, significant progress has been made. The Fair Housing Act of 1968 marked a turning point in the fight against housing discrimination, and attitudes toward Jews began to shift nationally. In Fair Lawn, this shift was particularly pronounced. The town has evolved into a thriving Jewish community, with an estimated 30% to 40% of its residents identifying as Jewish. Rabbi Ronald S. Roth, emeritus at the B’nai Sholom/Fair Lawn Jewish Center, reflects on this transformation. “We very clearly have to accept our past,” he says. “We should be unafraid to teach what happened here, and also to celebrate that the barriers to us were eventually broken down.”
The process of healing has not been easy, but there have been moments of reconciliation. At the 50th reunion of Fair Lawn High School’s 1958 graduating class, for example, a woman named Ruth Cheney approached Lawrence Moss to apologize for her parents’ role in trying to prevent his family from moving into Radburn. Cheney, who was just 10 years old at the time, had carried the burden of her parents’ actions for decades. Her apology was met with forgiveness, offering a glimmer of hope for the healing of old wounds.
Facing the Past in Fair Lawn Today
As Fair Lawn’s 100th anniversary comes to a close, there is still much to be done in acknowledging its past. Despite the efforts of some residents and officials, the town has yet to formally address the history of antisemitism in Radburn. This omission is particularly striking in the context of the ongoing surge in antisemitism worldwide, which has seen a rise in hate crimes and attacks against Jewish communities.
Fair Lawn Mayor Gail Rottenstrich has been a vocal advocate for acknowledging the town’s history. “Discrimination against Jews in Radburn early on in the 20th century is well-documented,” she says. “Radburn clearly prohibited the sale of houses to Jews for decades. Our town’s 100th anniversary celebration should [have] acknowledged as much. I would be in favor of telling our whole history.”
The story of Radburn serves as a reminder of the importance of confronting the past, even when it is uncomfortable. By acknowledging the harm that was done, we can work toward a more inclusive future. As Fair Lawn moves forward, it is my hope that the town will seize the opportunity to reflect on its history and commit to a path of healing and reconciliation. Only by facing the truth can we truly move forward.
