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The Great Fire

11m read

The Great Fire

by Eugenia Budman Published in Issue #16
DeathMourningNon-Jews
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Membership in the Free Society of Firefighter Hunters, our voluntary fire brigade, has always been a matter of honour, for all prominent citizens of Minsk. My sons, Samuel and Grigoriy, became members as soon as they turned seventeen. It was first organized in 1876 by my late husband, Lazar Braude, founder of The Braude Bank, the third biggest bank in the city. Lazar had once said that it was his duty to protect Minsk’s commoners and the rich from such a great disaster that had destroyed our city more than once.
Today, on November 21, 1885, under the usual — for this time of year — half-rain-and-half-snow downpour, the mayor gave a heart-warming speech in front of a new fire station built near the center of Minsk, on the corner of Romanovskaya and Preobrazhenskaya Streets. All the current members of the Society were present, including Dr. Oskar Polyak, who sat proudly in his wheelchair, his burned hands gripping the armrests, his face wrapped in a fresh bandage.
His Excellency the Mayor, Alexander Alexandrovich Petrov, and his wife, had personally invited me to the celebration. The invitation was written by hand and came with flowers and a gift, but I’d hesitated responding until the last minute.
I had nothing against the mayor and his wife. They were good people. But it was difficult for me to see their son. The boy had grown since I’d seen him last. He was a student now, blond, clear-eyed and handsome in his stiff gymnasium uniform that made his chubby body slimmer and taller. He...

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