More than a century after they were created, two Jewish cemeteries in northwest Ohio are finally under the administrative care of a single entity: the Jewish Federation of Greater Toledo.
The story of each resting place — Beth Shalom Cemetery in Oregon and Eagle Point Cemetery in Rossford — is, in part, the story of Toledo and the men and women who helped forge it.
In 1903, Sam Levine left Europe for the United States and settled in one of the early Jewish communities being established just north of downtown Toledo.
Starting out as a tailor and peddler, Mr. Levine eventually helped establish a successful scrap iron and metal company that would be operated by generations of the Levine family.
When Mr. Levine died in 1977, he was buried in Beth Shalom Cemetery in Oregon, one of only two Jewish cemeteries established in the late 1800s in the greater Toledo area.
Joe Kasle was also in the scrap business in Toledo, immigrating here in 1912 and establishing a strong family business with his brother on Elm Street. Mr. Kasle, who lived to be 107, is laid to rest in Eagle Point, the first Jewish cemetery in the area, more than eight acres overlooking the Maumee River at the edge of Rossford.
Both men helped establish a strong Jewish community that, today, continues to respect religious custom and ritual surrounding death and burial. To that end, when local Jewish congregations, who were individually maintaining sections of the cemeteries, realized that funds were dwindling and upkeep was challenging, a new sustainability plan was set into motion.
Under a merger with the Jewish Federation of Greater Toledo, diminutive perpetual care funds controlled by those congregations were moved to an account with the Toledo Jewish Community Foundation, and a new entity was formed to oversee operations: the Toledo Jewish Community Cemetery Association.
Although burial obligations and rituals remain with the synagogues, the federation is now fiscally responsible for the upkeep of Beth Shalom and Eagle Point cemeteries. The changes became effective at the end of February.
“It’s the right thing to do,” says Joel Marcovitch, CEO of the Jewish Federation of Greater Toledo. “We have many people buried there who contributed to the Jewish federation and helped them, who built buildings and infrastructure, started businesses. We have former rabbis of our community who are buried there.”
A history
The first local Jews, most of German descent, came to Toledo in the late 1800s and settled just north of downtown in the area of Canton Street and Woodruff Avenue, according to the 2015-published book A History of the Toledo Jewish Community, 1895-2006.
In 1866, the first — and only — local conservative congregation, Congregation B’nai Israel, was established, a congregation that still exists today. Three Orthodox Jewish congregations formed, B’nai Jacob, Sharei Zedek, and Anshe Sfard. Along with an independent burial association, Toledo Hebrew and Benevolent and Cemetery Association, the burgeoning communities began looking for a prime location to establish a cemetery.
The first plot of land, which became Eagle Point, was purchased from a local farmer in 1867.
“It’s always been the tradition that when [Jews] started a community somewhere, one of the first things they did was acquire land for a cemetery,” said Phyllis Walkin, executive director of the newly formed cemetery association.
In 1892, farmland was purchased off Otter Creek Road, and the B’nai Jacob, Sharei Zedek, and B’nai Israel congregations and a second independent burial society began maintaining burial plots there. Although all but B’nai Israel eventually merged under the name of Congregation Etz Chayim, the Beth Shalom Cemetery is still sectioned under the names of the original founding congregations.
More land was subsequently purchased leading up to Corduroy Road, and today the 14 acres include a chapel, garage, and superintendent’s residence.
But long-term financial planning was lacking, says Eden Feldstein, 74, and cemetery upkeep was, at first, financed through annual burial charges.
Mr. Feldstein was the last president of the Toledo Jewish Cemetery Association, an organization that was established by the local congregations in May, 1963, and dissolved under the new plan. It was about that same time that perpetual care funds were established for individual plot care.
“That’s when the congregations decided to be more collegial and start working together, because they had the same goals and interests,” Mr. Feldstein said. “They made it a rule then that each burial henceforth had to be accompanied by not only a burial charge but a one-time contribution of a fixed amount of money that started out at $250. It was hoped that the interest on that $250 was going to be enough money to maintain the charges on that particular grave.”
Over the years, the perpetual care fund was increased to $300, $350, and finally to $750, which is where it stands today.
Greater Toledo’s Reform Jews, who are part of the local congregation Temple Shomer Emunim, have separate, designated burial space in Woodlawn Cemetery and are not part of the new community cemetery association. Members of that congregation purchased more than 5,000 plots in three sections that were put aside for their community by Woodlawn in 1910, the 1930s, and most recently in the 1980s, said Woodlawn’s foundation director, Patty Toneff.
Jewish burial customs
As Mr. Feldstein walks through the rows of both old and newer burials at Eagle Point, he points out the headstones of cousins, Minnie Feldstein, who died in 1929, and Sylvia Ehrlich, who was buried there in 1969.
He would need extra hands to count off his immediate and distant relatives who have been buried at both Jewish cemeteries.
“These are more remote relatives,” he says of the Eagle Point burials. “My parents, each of their parents, are buried [at Beth Shalom]. My aunts and uncles are buried there.”
Small, colorful stones are placed atop some of the headstones, a Jewish tradition that shows the deceased has not been forgotten by his or her loved ones. Most headstones are simplistic, with the name, date of birth and death, and often the star of David. Etched in Hebrew on many of the stones is the epitaph, “May his soul be bound up in the bond of eternal life.”
Some are adorned with medals indicating a Holocaust survivor is buried there.
As is custom when a Jewish person dies, the body is prepared for burial by an anonymous group known as the Chevra Kadisha. The deceased are wrapped in plain, white shrouds and buried in modest wooden caskets.
“Everyone in the cemetery is the same at that point,” Mr. Feldstein said.
Solomon Rosenbush, who died July 28, 1868, is recorded as the first person to be buried at Eagle Point. His grave sits toward the center-rear of the cemetery, years of weathering evident on his headstone. Individuals over time were permitted to pick plots anywhere in the cemeteries.
“You could have someone who died in 1900 and someone who died in 1952 [buried] right next to them,” Ms. Walkin said, as she scoured a wall-sized map in her office that seeks to identify the occupant of each gravesite.
Some Jewish families purchased elaborate family plots with monuments depicting the family name surrounded by smaller stones that denoted “father,” “mother,” “daughter,” “uncle.” Such plots are no more, Mr. Feldstein said, as only married couples can reserve side-by-side plots now to avoid empty sites caused by family dynamic shifts.
When asked why the cemeteries were established outside of the Toledo Jewish communities of long ago, some responded that it was a tradition to site them across a body of water (the Maumee River) so that a funeral procession would pass over that water, akin to crossing the Jordan River. Others believe that restrictions against the Jewish population forced them to look outside their neighborhoods or that there simply was no viable land available inside those communities.
The future
Today, 6,017 individuals are laid to rest at Beth Shalom and Eagle Point. As the Jewish population in the Toledo area declines, so does the number of burials: 61 were buried in 1990; 37 in 2000; 27 in 2010.
Rabbi Evan Rubin has watched the Jewish community decline by about 40 percent since his arrival to serve as head of Congregation Etz Chayim in 1994. The current Jewish population is about 2,200, he said.
“In the mid to late 20th Century there were many smaller Jewish communities scattered throughout the United States,” he said. “Now it seems Jewish populations are gravitating to much larger populated areas. Atlanta is booming, Chicago is booming, and places like this are shrinking.”
Other reasons for the population decline include an aging immigrant population, an increase in younger Jewish residents moving out of the area, and more marriages between Jews and non-Jews who don’t raise their children to practice Judaism.
The decrease has left those with the cemetery association confident that the remaining vacant plots in both cemeteries will be enough for at least the near future. But properly caring for those already buried there was heavy on the minds of many congregation members for years, said Joel Beren, a former president and CEO of the Jewish Federation of Greater Toledo.
Mr. Beren has deep roots in the local Jewish community. A great-grandson of Sam Levine, he was the last to operate the family scrap and metal business, A. Edelstein and Son, before its sale about 20 years ago. He was asked about four years ago to take on the task of developing a long-term financial plan for the upkeep of the cemeteries.
He declined to say how much funding the new nonprofit had from the perpetual care fund, only that it “wasn’t enough to make sure [the plots] were taken care of in perpetuity.” He said the total annual operating budget for both cemeteries is about $200,000.
“North America is littered with cemeteries that aren’t particularly well taken care of, in every community, and I think over time, people came to realize that there is an obligation to take care of our cemeteries and not leave them unkept,” Mr. Beren said. “These are emotional decisions, not just financial ones. The money runs out long before the emotions.”
The federation will strive to increase the pot through annual distributions and investments, fund-raising, and support from members of the Jewish community and philanthropic groups.
The federation hopes to also increase volunteer cleanup efforts at the cemeteries and hold more historical programs there, for example, placing flags on the 600 veterans’ graves on significant holidays, Mr. Marcovitch said.
“It’s not just about upkeep and maintenance … we get to know in our conscience that we are taking care of the people who have made extraordinary contributions to our communities in Toledo and northwest Ohio,” Mr. Marcovitch said. “For me personally, it’s very humbling. If they didn’t care about Jewish communal life 50, 60, 100 years ago, I wouldn’t be here today.”
Contact Roberta Gedert at: rgedert@theblade.com or 419-724-6075 or on Twitter @RoGedert.
First Published May 7, 2017, 4:00 a.m.
