Minchah had already finished, and I didn’t see anyone who looked like a rosh yeshivah
Although I was never officially enrolled as a talmid at MTJ, nevertheless, when critical sh’eilos came my way, I, like so many other rabbanim, knew that 145 East Broadway was the correct address. I also had the privilege of attending Rav Dovid Feinstein’s Chumash shiur on Friday mornings. And after Minchah on Erev Shabbos, anyone could approach Rav Dovid and ask him any questions. He always answered in his sweet, soft-spoken, humble manner.
However, I am getting ahead of myself. I must back up ten years to the first time I met this giant of humility.
In the 1970s, the go-to place to purchase anything Jewish was the Lower East Side.
You could eat at Schmulka Bernstein’s, which was an eating experience never duplicated. It was the first kosher Chinese restaurant in New York. The Asian waiters wore a sort of Chinese yarmulke with tassels running down the little hat’s side. You could order such Chinese dishes such as Moo Goo Gai Pan or Lo Mein Bernstein.
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