Two elderly men were walking along the Avenue. One had settled in this country many years ago, the other had arrived recently. They had not seen each other since childhood and reminisced about their hometown Cracow.
“Do you remember Simhe Klein?”
“Of course. I remember him very well. I remember him not only from Cracow, but also from Vienna, where we fled during World War I. He had eight children: six boys and two girls. I used to visit him in his apartment in the Karl Meisel Strasse in Vienna. The noise of the children, who played in front of the house, could be heard from afar. Do you know what happened to them.”
“Hm, hm,” smiled the man to whom the question was addressed and he made a sudden halt in front of a “Barton” candy store they were just passing.
“You see this store” – he turned to his friend – “This and many others like it form part of the great chocolate plant and enterprise, founded and directed by Simhe Klein’s children. They had done well. Simhe’s ‘kinder’ have done extremely well!”
We were sitting with Stephen Klein, leader of the Klein clan and head of Barton’s, in his main office. It was long past official closing time, but he was still at his desk.
Stephen was the first of the Klein family to leave Vienna after the “Anschluss” of 1938. After the November pogroms of that year he escaped to Antwerp, Belgium, and from there attempted to rescue his family. One day Stephen, then aged thirty, appeared before the local American consul and applied for an immigration visa.
“Have you relatives or friends in the States who would be able to provide for you,” the consul asked him.
“No” – answered Klein – “but I have hands strong enough to work and to support my family”.
Granted an immigration visa, Klein was able to bring to the United States all his family, with the exception of one brother who until the end of the war was kept in a German concentration camp. Stephen was as good as his word. Immediately after his arrival in New York he set about to manufacture chocolate, a trade in which his family had engaged in Vienna. The whole clan was set to work. All of them stood around the “pot”, mixing and kneading the dough. All of them “peddled” the ready made products. This was the beginning – the rest is commentary: The usual or unusual American success story.
“One thousand people are employed in our enterprise. Our products are sold in 260 special stores and agencies. To these another fifty, including some on the West Coast, will be added in the near future.”
Klein takes pride not only in his products and great commercial success:
“Our enterprise is closed on Sabbaths and Jewish holydays. We employ 300 Sabbath observing workers. We have been the first to manufacture in this country candies and pastries which are all Kosher for Pessach. In the wake of advertising our products we have distributed millions of publications which explain Jewish laws and customs. Now we have succeeded to manufacture for the first time ‘Kosher gelatin’. Our research workers have discovered that gelatin might be produced from the skins of the heads of calves. Our product has been examined by the proper rabbinical authorities and has been declared, ‘kosher’’.
Klein leans back in his chair. He is proud and content with himself.
Yes, he is not only a good business man, but also a good Jew. During the war and after, he took a prominent part in the activities of the Vaad Hatzala, which engaged in the rescue of rabbis and Yeshiva students from Europe. At present he is national chairman of the committee for the “Hinnuch Atzmai” (Independent religious school system in Israel) in this country.
His interest in the promotion of religious education is indeed very great and sincere.
“Do you know who founded the Brooklyn High School for Girls of Yeshiva University? – he asks.
“It was in the late forties. My daughter Jeanette came of age to enter high school, but there was no such institution for religious girls school in New York. In cooperation with a few friends of mine I founded one. For two years I was practically the head of the institution. I engaged the Hebrew and English teachers and I was responsible for the budget.”
Klein grows enthusiastic: “We have sixty children and grand-children in our family. All of them attended or attend religious day schools. A number of them, including sons of mine, have been ordained by leading Yeshivas”.
Steering the conversation towards Mr. Klein’s activities on behalf of Hinnuch Atzmai, we asked:
“In addition to raising funds on behalf of Hinnuch Atzmai, do you also take an active interest in the work of the schools in Israel?”
“Of course” – was his reply. At that moment our conversation was interrupted by the entry of a secretary who brought Mr. Klein some letters and checks to sign. We took the opportunity to have a closer look at the “citations” and “certificates of merit” lauding Mr. Klein’s contribution to a variety of causes which decorate the walls of his office.
“Hello, where have we been?” – Mr. Klein renewed the conversation. “Oh, we wanted to talk about Israel. How could I have forgotten that? I visit Israel very often. I go there because I love the country. I visit there in connection with the “Hinnuch Atzmai”. On a recent visit of mine I helped the Hinnuch Atzmai procure a new building in Bnei Brak. Which is to serve as a teacher’s seminary. And last but not least: We have also business interests in the country. In certain fields we work in close cooperation with “Elite”, the Israel chocolate manufacturers. Recently we bought a large plot on the beach near Herzliya, and we intend to erect a modern hotel.”
We interjected: “What would be the name of the new hotel? Barton? Would sound like Hilton!”
Mr. Klein, who is, of course, thinking of a Hebrew name for his new enterprise, took our suggestion in the joking tone it was meant.
“We have not yet decided on the name. When the child will be born, we will name it”, he answered.
Though we are not shareholders in Mr. Klein’s new enterprise, we wished him well in his new “line”, and with this made just ready to leave.
Just as we were leaving, we were presented with a Barton bonbonniere.
“No, no”, we said, feigning a most serious countenance – no bribes.”
“But this is only a small bonbonniere. We just can’t let you leave our building without some of our candy sticking to you. This is certainly no bribe”, said Mr. Klein, seemingly a bit offended.
“You never know” – we retorted – “a few of the delicious Barton candies might constitute quite a bribe.”
Mr. Klein beamed.
Jewish Press
August 3, 1962