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Historical tradition, although highly prejudicial,  had prevented  Jews from  owning  land. To establish a Jewish farming community in the central part of New Jersey, particularly in the Toms River area, proved to be a minor miracle.  It evolved gradually.  Jews from all walks of life, especially from the metropolitan area, gravitated towards Toms River, joining friends and relatives.

We arrived In 1932, when I was nine years old and my brother Davey was six. Life was primitive at that time. We had no means of transportation.  We  depended  upon neighbors and itinerant peddlers for all our needs. Our butcher, our grocer, our barber, all came to us. We had our own cut rate dry goods man who arrived monthly, which was cause for great celebration.

Each of us had a responsible part in the operation of the farm. Young as we were, we each had our share to do. Davey and I used to have contests as to who could grade the eggs faster. Imagine how gullible we were! The one who did it the fastest had the honor of grading all the eggs. I usually won, so I thought! And only because  I was older. But then Davey had to collect all the eggs. I hated to do that because the hens would always pick at my hands as I tried to remove the eggs from under them.

There was no automation at that time. We were fortunate that we had plumbing in the coops. At least the water was in each room. But we had to clean the fountains with a scrub brush; put the mash and grain under the hoppers; chase the birds up in the roosts; put the baby chicks under the hoovers at dusk; pull them out of the corners where they would push and shove in a suicidal attempt to  suffocate  themselves and each other; crawl into the shelters to grasp the chickens by the legs to put into crates and transport them into the coops. And how the chickens protested. They would peck at us, beat us with their wings, deafen us with their squawks. Then we had to chase them  off the trees, but instead of flying down, they would fly higher. This was an opportunity for Davey to test his marksmanship by throwing stones and branches until they flew down.

It was a hard life, as I said, but it was good, because we did everything together. The closeness of the family was never equaled. We had mutual trust and respect for one another, because we were all important cogs in the wheel, completely  dependent  on each other.

In the evenings, after supper, Daddy provided us with the basic rudiments of our Jewish education. It was during those formative years that I developed a love for our cultural heritage, which has remained with me until today. We did not get a formal Hebrew education until a shule was established In the Community Center with classes for children.

It was a great day in our lives when Daddy went for his citizenship papers. He had to go to Trenton.   It was July 10, 1936.  The whole farm was our responsibility.  How proud we were!  I was thirteen years old, and David was ten.  The temperature at that day rose to 102.

We had to hose down the roofs, and constantly carry water to the ranges. I had frightened by mother half to death, because at four in the afternoon I complained of a severe headache . Mom looked at me; my eyes were bulging and my face was a deep purple! Somehow she knew that I had suffered a minor sunstroke. How Angry I was because I had failed my father's faith in me! I could not keep the responsibility intrusted to me.

At this time we were becoming very much aware of what Zionism meant to our parents and how It permeated our whole life style. Dad and Mom had met in Baltimore at a Poale Zion meeting. When they had married and I was born, I too, attended these meetings, asleep on two chairs facing each other. I was born a Zionist, and our home has been saturated with it ever since. We adored listening to his stories of his days in the Jewish Legion during World War I, end what an activist he was to the point that they had to isolate him from the rest of the troops: otherwise they would have all deserted and remained in Palestine.

To live in Israel, the State, was his dream. Living on the farm was the closest that Mom and Dad could get to the life they would have liked In Israel. They became extremely active in all Zionist endeavors. It was Dad who originated the Yorn Kippur Appeal for the Jewish National Fund in the Toms River Jewish Farmers' Community Center. But Zalkin Schein did not do it alone. He had a great deal of support from Alex Golden, Max Smith, Morris Goldsmith, and reluctantly at first.Max Rosenkrantz. Surprisingly enough, it is Max Rosenkrantz to this day, who is still instrumental in seeing that this drive continues. Imagine, an appeal for money on the holiest day of the year, Yorn Kippur! But it worked.

It was Daddy who originated the Third Seder in the area for the Jewish National Fund. We all had First Seders and Second Seders, but who heard of Third Seders? Daddy did, and it worked . To this day it is an annual drive that nets thousands of dollars for the Keren Kayemet.

It was Daddy together with Alex Golden who took mysterious trips to Asbury Park to visit Zimel Resnick on"Business" . We later found out that they were gun runners for struggling Israel (not yet a state), secretly and also illegally purchasing guns and ammunition to supply the Hagganah. We also found out later how the ship "Exodus" came to be. These were stories Daddy NEVER told us, but of course we knew.

My parents were exceptional people. Daddy was tall, handsome, courageous, dedicated, honest, and extremely eloquent. Mom gave him the support, the practicality, the persistence, and the drive that he needed. They were an unbeatable combination. No one could resist them. Zionist organizations spread like wildfire; Farband, the Poale Zion, the Pioneer Women, Kadimah, the Colonel Marcus Group, the Gold Myerson Club, Habonim, and others.

Their success also was attributable to the fact that they always worked in committees. Mom or Daddy never drove a car. Daddy said he wouldn't, Mama tried it once, but headed straight for the barn, so that was the end of that. Wherever they had to go, someone had to drive them, ergo the committee!  He needed a committee to go from farm to farm collecting for the United Jewish Appeal. He needed a committee to go from hotel to hotel making appeals to the guests to contribute to the Jewish National Fund. It wasn't easy. It was demeaning at times, embarrassing and frustrating. But his goal was so clear that he knew he had to do it, and fortunately for the community, and for Israel, he did it well.

At last the dream Came true. On Novetber 29, 1947, Israel was declared a state by the United Nations. My parents wept; we wept; it was a miracle, a "nes". Six months later Daddy, Mom, and my little brother Harry, who was twelve years old, packed up and moved to Israel. Dave had already gone on his own. I was married with two little daughters and had to remain here in the states. Daddy was 56 years old at the time; Mama was 52. This is late to start one's life all over again.  But they were indomitable. He realized his dream. Few people on earth can reach such fulfillment in life. I am only thankful that he did not live long enough to realize that the birth of Israel created more tragedies and, hardships to a degree that is inconceivable in a so-called civilized world. He died at the age of 62, quickly, while speaking with some Israeli friends, and is now at rest in Avichall, the memorial of the Jewish Legion in Israel.

Mama is still living In Israel. Her two sons and their six children, who are all Israelis, are living and fighting for the very survival of Israel and of Jewry the world over.

I fervently believe that his dream will surmount all obstacles. The memory of Zalkin Schein will live forever in the Jewish Community of Toms River. His contribution to the community and to Zionism will never be forgotten. His was the spark that ignited that small group of Jewish farmers in becoming a vibrant and active community wholly conscious of their obligations as Jews and as Zionists.



Hilda Lindauer, his daughter