Bernice Schwartz (nee Nitzberg)
I was relieved that I did not live in Jew Town. As a child, my home was on the top of the Market Street hill, just above Jew Town in Trenton, New Jersey during the 1930’s and ‘40’s. We lived above and behind my parents’ wallpaper store. The boundary between Jew Town and the rest of the city was the four corners where Broad St. crossed Market St. A large bank, the county courthouse, a red brick church, and Stover’s anti-Semitic drug store occupied the corners. As Market St. descended, the character of the hill changed, from a quiet lower middle class community to a bustling noisy market place.
I was often sent there by my mother on errands. Every Friday I bought horseradish for Shabbos. It was ground in front of me on an old wooden, not too clean, grater at Shulman’s store.