As the economy disintegrated in the aftermath of war and nationalization, Moshe and Ruth were offered contracts for the Odessa Opera Company, but could not afford to accept them because the salaries offered would not even pay for food. Instead they sang concerts for “payok” -- payment in goods, “a loaf of bread, some herrings, canned goods, kerosene and other items. If you didn’t bring a bottle with you, kerosene would be your loss. Once we were brought to a large vegetable farm out of town for a concert. The workers were scattered in the fields. We each received a sack of beets. It seemed fun to all of us and we were making jokes. But when the truck dropped us some distance from home and we had to drag the heavy sacks over the streets and then up three flights it was no fun any longer. Mother made borscht, which lasted and fed the family for a week. She invented several dishes to use the beets, gave them to all her neighbours and relatives, but we could not bear to hear about or see them any more for a long while.” (Fina’s letter XI).
Moshe also served at this time as soloist and conductor of Hazomir Chorus in Kherson. He also translated Russian songs into Hebrew and Yiddish and incorporated music by Engel, Saminsky, Millner and other Jewish composers into their repertoire. Ruth writes of this time:
“Moshe had his beloved work and was always looking, digging out material to work with the chorus and for us as soloists. Everybody in the entire Jewish population of Kherson came to love these concerts and the tickets were sold out as soon as the date for a new concert would be announced. We received our salary regularly and could not spend it all, so generously they paid us. But gradually the situation began to deteriorate on all fronts.”
Communist Party demands that repertoires be entirely secular were impossible to meet with music based on Jewish folksongs. Political pressures were also causing divisions in the Hazomir Society. Nationalization was impoverishing the community. And, last but not least, anti-Semitic bands were roaming the countryside under the motto “Kill the Jews and save Russia!” The Hazomir Society was disbanded and Moshe and Ruth lost their jobs. Thanks to a few Russian concerts, the couple had become acquainted with “an influential Russian Bolshevik. When he learned that the anti-Semitic bands were approaching Kherson, he placed at our disposal a horse and buggy to take us wherever we wished to go.”
They then spent a time visiting several Jewish agricultural settlements, holding concerts as they made their way back to Odessa. “We were rewarded for the first time in life by the sight of teenagers riding gracefully on horses, chasing the cattle to their stables. There we saw for the first time how nice, healthy, vigorous-looking the boys and girls were and understood how malicious and false the accusations were that Jews could not be good farmers. To those farms many boys and girls used to come from surrounding towns to learn the rudiments of farming and after a year or two leave for Palestine to become Chalutzim.”
But back in Odessa, economic conditions had worsened:
“Many actors like us, who could not find employment and were looking out for some earning, conceived a brilliant idea of selling salt where it was scarce and buying sugar to sell it in and around Odessa. Two clever, energetic theatre entrepreneurs obtained permission from local officials to have a railway car for a large group of actors to give concerts for the army, located at various points to the North on the railway line. They picked the best actors in all branches of stage art: dancers, musicians, singers, and even circus performers. Moshe and I were engaged as opera solo and duet singers. The group of musicians included Mr. Blinder, an outstanding violinist who later became the concertmaster in the San Francisco symphony. Mr. Barer was also included as a solo piano player and accompanist for Mr. Blinder in sonata playing. Mr. Barer later gave concerts all over Europe and America. He died suddenly a few years ago on the stage of Carnegie Hall in New York, at the piano, while concertizing. None of us received any payment for our performances, but were allowed officially to take 5 poodow (1 pood is equivalent to 36 pounds) of salt. Actually, each took as much as he could cram into the space we found available on the train. As the train moved North, we exchanged the salt for sugar, meat, cereals, eggs, fat, which the peasants used to bring to the train. The first trip was highly successful. We returned home with plenty of food of all kinds which we obtained in exchange for salt. By our second trip, all our friends offered money or salt as long as we would promise to bring them some items to supplement their monotonous, dull diet. Unfortunately, the whole cooperative was on the road six months instead of 3-4 weeks as we had planned. One trouble we ran into was lack of fuel for our engine. All the men of our party were obliged to step out and cut wood to feed the engine. Realizing the danger which would threaten our violinist if his fingers were roughened by the hard work with the ax and saw in wintry air, Moshe volunteered to do the work of the violinist, adding a few hours to his own work schedule. The army officers liked our concerts so well that they ordered us to stay as long as they remained where we were. But our managers knew how to use the situation to our best advantage. They would invite the officers to our car, treat them to cocktails, wines and delicious food served by a charming hostess, and get them to sign an order directing us to proceed to the next large center on the way to Odessa. Our public consisted mainly of soldiers who were going to fight the bandits or coming from the battles, and local peasants with their wives and girls. Once when I came out and sang an aria from an opera with colloratura fiorituras the peasants started to laugh. The higher I reached, the louder they laughed. They confused me to a stop. When our leader mentioned to them that I became offended, they explained that they laughed out of pleasure and admiration, because they had never heard a woman sing like a bird before. While our train was at the station, we witnessed tragic sights too. On the track next to ours stood a train carrying Gypsies to Siberia. The Gypsies were huddled into freight cars with only a narrow opening to admit air. Little children, all naked in the December weather, managed to squeeze through the narrow opening of the car and came running to our train begging for bread or sugar, crying from cold. As they saw us throwing bread to the children, the soldiers who guarded the Gypsy train came running after the little children dragging them by the hair and throwing them back into their car. Then they closed the car shut and started the train on its way to Siberia. Our concert managers tried to adjust the concert programs to the character of the audience. On our way to Odessa we stopped at a large grossroad station called Zhmerinka. The local people wanted to celebrate the opening of a new hall just finished for the workers, and since they had a large Jewish group, they asked for a Jewish concert. The first part was done by the Russian members of our cooperative, and the second was to be presented by Moshe and myself. At the conclusion of the Russian part of the program, the manager announced that those not interested in the Jewish program could leave the hall before closing the doors. A large part of the Russian audience then left the hall, while a considerable number remained, out of curiosity, together with the Jewish audience. There was considerable confusion: Some were demanding more Russian music, while others laughed derisively in anticipation of having some fun at the expense of the Jewish part. In such embarrassing situations, Moshe liked to come out first under fire. He stood stil on the stage, waiting for complete quiet. Then he explained in Russian the content of the first song, “In Cheder” by Millner. When he started to sing with love and sincerity about the teacher and little boy’s first lesson in alphabet, the whole audience caught the spirit of the song. Gradually the derisive smiles disappeared from the faces and to the end a burst of applause penetrated the walls. The second and third songs proved a triumph because even those who didn’t understand the language couldn’t miss the real art, the high quality of the singer and his songs. When he finished, there were no more Jews and Christians; it was one audience with one cry for more and more of the same kind. In 1921 the Rudinows crossed the border into Poland where they gave many joint recitals throughout Poland, the Baltic States and Romania.
