Jews Politics

With controversy intense over Louis Farrakhan's scheduled speech at the Forum in September, 1985, a small group of young staff members, black and white, went into Tom Bradley's office to talk to the mayor. The group pleaded with the first black mayor of Los Angeles to denounce Farrakhan, a black Muslim minister who had been making anti-Semitic speeches. "Our strategy was to tell him . . . that our age group does not give a damn about Farrakhan, that Los Angeles is a multiracial community . . .

Have you been the victim of anti-Semitism or discrimination because you are Jewish? No: 55% Rarely: 23% Sometimes: 15% Often: 6% Don't know: 1% * Is anti-Semitism a problem in the United States? Very: 19% Somewhat serious: 52% Not much/No: 27% Don't know: 2% * Over the next several years, do you think anti-Semitism in the U.S. will: Increase: 23% Remain the same: 53% Decrease: 15% Don't know: 9% **** "In every society, the Jews are the people who say: 'Wait a minute.

Many Jews are suffering a loss of close relationships and political clout because of a failure to foster their culture in the home, a political commentator told 400 women at a Jewish Federation Council luncheon last week. "We make family," speaker Ellen Cannon said, stressing the need to build a family commitment to Judaism into education and home life. "Amongst (fellow) Jews, we don't use the word 'neighbor.' We use the word mishpucha (which means family)."

Zeev Sharon looked out his living room window over the land that he believes the son of Isaac declared "the house of God" and shook his head at the crazy logic of secular Israelis. The government is going to hold on to the part of Israel won in 1948 during the historic War of Independence, Sharon said in wonder. But it is willing to give Palestinians control of the land where the Jewish forefathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob walked millennia before?

For now, Los Angeles' politically splintered Jewish community is as one in the aftermath of the assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. The differences that have erupted in the past over the quest for peace in the Holy Land seemed to dissipate in the candlelight of Monday's vigil for the fallen leader. But flickering shadows of apprehension remain.

A meeting next week between Los Angeles Jewish leaders and Democratic presidential candidate Jesse Jackson appears to be in jeopardy because the two sides are having trouble agreeing on ground rules. Jackson is apparently concerned that the meeting will be dominated by hostile questions to him, and some Jewish leaders want to make sure certain issues are not glossed over as a good-will gesture.

The Rev. Jesse Jackson has agreed to meet with Los Angeles Jewish leaders on May 18 to "hold a dialogue" on issues of mutual concern, Rabbi Allen I. Freehling of University Synagogue in Brentwood announced Friday. Jackson said upon beginning his campaign this week for the June 7 California primary that he hoped to meet with Jewish leaders to avoid the tensions that marked the New York primary, where Jackson's relations with Jews were an overriding issue.

The Rev. Jesse Jackson confirmed Friday that he confronted a young man who asked him at a Los Angeles event if he had healed his rift with Jews, but Jackson denied that he had tried to intimidate the questioner. "I simply argued that no one else (at the event) was raising the question . . . and that it was insensitive to continually open old wounds when I had been working so hard to heal them," Jackson said in a statement released by his Washington office. The incident took place at a Sept.

Emerging from the shock and grief at the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin is an apparent consensus in the American Jewish community that it must cool the inflammatory debate over whether Israel can exchange land for peace with its Arab adversaries.

Assembly Speaker Willie Brown (D-San Francisco) said Friday he wasn't being serious when he told reporters in connection with comments on legislative reapportionment that Jewish voters can't be counted on to vote for black candidates. In a statement released by his office, Brown said his remarks during an impromptu press conference on the Assembly floor were "in a context not designed to be taken seriously."

For now, Los Angeles' politically splintered Jewish community is as one in the aftermath of the assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. The differences that have erupted in the past over the quest for peace in the Holy Land seemed to dissipate in the candlelight of Monday's vigil for the fallen leader. But flickering shadows of apprehension remain.

Emerging from the shock and grief at the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin is an apparent consensus in the American Jewish community that it must cool the inflammatory debate over whether Israel can exchange land for peace with its Arab adversaries.

In the nearly two years since Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization agreed to embark on a search for peace, the bitterness of the debate among American Jewish leaders over the wisdom of the peace process has steadily escalated. Those opposed to the process have called supporters "traitors" and "murderers" with "blood on their hands." Supporters of the talks label their opponents "ayatollahs," "fascists" and "enemies of peace." In June, an Orthodox rabbi from Brooklyn, N.Y.

Many Jews are suffering a loss of close relationships and political clout because of a failure to foster their culture in the home, a political commentator told 400 women at a Jewish Federation Council luncheon last week. "We make family," speaker Ellen Cannon said, stressing the need to build a family commitment to Judaism into education and home life. "Amongst (fellow) Jews, we don't use the word 'neighbor.' We use the word mishpucha (which means family)."

Zev Yaroslavsky's view of his native Los Angeles changed in three sharp jolts. Late on the night of the verdicts in the Rodney G. King beating case, the veteran city councilman--long a high-profile symbol of liberal Jewish activism--left First African Methodist Church in Mid-City and discovered that a mob had shattered the windows of his city car, tearing the hood off and kicking in the sides.

At the proudly ethnic Jewish Heritage newspaper, one would expect California's U.S. Senate elections to be a time for celebration. California has never had a Jewish U.S. senator, and now three of the four top Senate candidates are Jewish. At least one, and quite possibly two, of the Jewish candidates will win. Instead the editors find themselves nearly paralyzed by the difficulty of choosing among the candidates.

In the nearly two years since Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization agreed to embark on a search for peace, the bitterness of the debate among American Jewish leaders over the wisdom of the peace process has steadily escalated. Those opposed to the process have called supporters "traitors" and "murderers" with "blood on their hands." Supporters of the talks label their opponents "ayatollahs," "fascists" and "enemies of peace." In June, an Orthodox rabbi from Brooklyn, N.Y.

A Republican assemblyman's appeal to Jewish voters in the San Fernando Valley to defeat Democratic state Sen. David Roberti at the polls backfired Thursday when its supposed author recanted and apologized for its harsh language. Among other things, the letter accused Roberti, president pro tem of the Senate, of bringing disgrace on the Senate, operating unethically and attempting "to buy the election to represent the Valley" with "special-interest lobbyists' money."

A Republican assemblyman's appeal to Jewish voters in the San Fernando Valley to defeat Democratic state Sen. David Roberti at the polls backfired Thursday when its supposed author recanted and apologized for its harsh language. Among other things, the letter accused Roberti, president pro tem of the Senate, of bringing disgrace on the Senate, operating unethically and attempting "to buy the election to represent the Valley" with "special-interest lobbyists' money."

It all began, Stanley Hirsh recalls, with an adolescent preparing for his bar mitzvah, a religious rite celebrating entry into manhood. His rabbi asked him to collect money for the National Jewish Fund to help develop land for settlers in what was then Palestine. "I took one of these little blue cans and walked around in the Bronx," Hirsh says. "It was my first taste of going out and raising money--nickels and dimes and pennies. . . . They just asked that you bring the box back full."