
It served as the first architectural contribution from the bloc of Eastern European Jews that had settled in the neighborhood. Like most new things, it was popular and remained in great shape for decades. The public loved it. Think of a picture: it's saturday morning and the place is packed to the gills. Sun streaks through the stained glass and a trifecta of American flags hang in the vertical distance. Orthodoxy meets an increasingly modern New York demand for the new. The hats are still large like jugs placed in an office water cooler.
Then there's the decline. In the 1920s, everything started to get too tight - money, time, space, our freedom to maneuver. In the 50s, everything was worse. The congregation depleted as the Jews moved on to new neighborhoods and cities. It's quite interesting. For all the aura that the Jewish history on the LES maintains, it was never an end-all-be-all for the actual population. By all accounts, they couldn't wait to move to someplace safer, cleaner, more spacious and less cutthroat. It finally happened, but they left the synagogue behind. It became dusty, dilapidated, broken-down and lost the ability to cleanse itself.
The Saturday service was never skipped. There remained a core congregation that met at the street level, avoiding the chapel (which continued to fall apart). Cut to 2007. The people finally completed a massive, 20-year renovation project and brought Eldridge back to its former glory. It's quite amazing, and I recommend that you check it out if you're in NYC. It's now a museum, but still holds Saturday services in order to keep up tradition.
It's also increasingly important that structures like this remain intact and are opened to the public for their viewing and education. I sincerely doubt that many people living on the LES right now know much about the Jewish history on their streets. They probably pop into Katz' now and then, but are more impressed by a picture of Bill Clinton or the spot where Meg Ryan had an orgasm in that movie. A lot has been lost. For those in the know, the aura remains. But soon, those in the know will die out.
You can order Annie Polland's book here.
You can visit the museum website here.