Ten questions for George Goodwin

George Goodwin

Founded in 1951, the Rhode Island Jewish Historical Association, collects, shares and interprets all aspects of our Jewish communal history – from colonial times to the present. The Association’s office and archive, located on the lower level of the Dwares JCC, house thousands upon thousands of treasures: photographs, documents, newspaper clippings, books and artifacts. It is a happy place to honor the deceased and living. Without the Association, so much of Rhode Island Jewish history would simply vanish.

Since 1954, the Association has published a journal, Rhode Island Jewish Historical Notes, which is sent to members and read by students and scholars in libraries around the corner and around the world. The current issue of The Notes, which will become available to readers shortly, celebrates 60 years of publication. This seems an appropriate time to chat with its current editor, Dr. George M. Goodwin.

Q:  Congratulations upon just completing your 11th year as editor of The Notes. Doesn’t this seems like a long time to herd Jewish cats?

A:  Yes, having exceeded Judy Cohen’s 10-year editorship, my tenure has become second only to Dr. Seebert Goldowsky’s. He served 17 years. I’m actually looking forward to celebrating my bar mitzvah year.

Q:  How well did you know Seebert? 

A: How well did anybody know Seebert? In 1988 he was completing his book, the history of Temple Beth-El, around the time that Betsey and I came to Providence. Somebody had to write the Temple’s history, and he was the only person willing and perhaps able to do so. I admire his enormous dedication and attention to detail. Seebert was a surgeon, and everything he knew seemed to have a factual basis. In person, however, he did reveal a sense of humor – even a mischievous glee. I liked Seebert and think of him and Bonnie more than once in a while. I hope that at least some of my work has honored their memories.

Q:  How did you become editor of The Notes? 

A:  I certainly had no intention of seeking the editorship. I had been president of the Jewish Historical Association when Judy Cohen’s successor, Leonard Moss, resigned after six years. So I had to recruit his successor. Indeed, I tried to persuade a few writers to take the job. They weren’t interested, and I should have known that they weren’t qualified.

But, of course, there’s a longer story. In 2002, I had had the idea of publishing an anthology of The Notes to celebrate its 50th anniversary, which would occur in 2004. I had sought an editor, and one was hired, but when she resigned midway through the project, I was forced to take over. I think that Stanley Abrams, who chaired the Association’s publications committee, helped me recognize and develop my talents. I feel that he and I were collaborators, and I miss his guidance in recent years. Fortunately, his successor, Mel Topf, has also been an excellent resource.

Q:  Would you call each issue of The Notes a team effort?

A: Yes, though I don’t care much about sports, especially the combative type. (My game is ping-pong.)  I work hard to nurture, recruit and encourage many colleagues and close friends in this mutually creative endeavor. My closest collaborator and colleague, however, is Bobbie Friedman, the journal’s graphic designer. Stan Abrams brought us together 11 years ago, and I don’t know how I would function without her. Considering the colossal honoraria we receive, our rewards are much higher and deeper.

Q:  Exactly how much effort does each year’s issue require?

A:  Bobbie and I would prove our insanity if we actually counted the hours. After one issue is printed, I try to take a brief sabbatical, but I’m always thinking about the next. Bobbie does not need to enter the creative arena until late summer or early fall, when I have already edited many articles and have some sense of how the rest of an issue will unfold. By February, when a new issue goes to press, we’re creatively exhausted.

Q:  What do you think you do well and not-so-well in each issue?

A:  This is a very difficult question, which others are welcome to answer – if they’ve read just about every page and examined almost every image. Generally speaking, I’ve kept this little publication alive and perhaps made some improvements. Quite frankly, there have been very few state or local Jewish historical societies that have produced such a steady yet surprising publication record. Despite very modest financial resources, a tiny readership, and meager concern by academic historians, the stories of Rhode Island’s Jews get told. As editor, I have published more than 2,200 pages and hundreds and hundreds of photographs. I think that it would be easy to publish a second anthology of high-quality articles right now. I wish that Brandeis University Press and University Press of New England were again interested.

Q:  Tell me more about your readers.

A:  Association members receive complimentary copies of The Notes. I have no idea how many members actually read an entire issue, and some articles appeal to individual readers more than others. Nevertheless, I more often hear complaints than compliments. People often ask why I have neglected their grandmother, neighbor or favorite organization. My simple reply is: please write your own story for the next issue. This seldom happens.

It’s quite an odd feeling, but I often think that our journal will be most appreciated when we are gone or when the publication is gone. Of course I hope that such possibilities never happen. I love this work, and I hope and pray for our community’s sustenance. Perhaps that’s too big a word for this context.

Q:  Are you saying that your historical work has some kind of spiritual dimension?

A: I certainly didn’t appreciate such a possibility when I began my editorship, but it has occurred to me in more recent years. One of the most important but least creative facets of my job is helping prepare obituaries for each year’s deceased members. Perhaps Seebert or one of his cronies resurrected this Victorian concept. In a way, it’s kind of silly, because obituaries are of course published a day or so after one’s death, and usually I’ve never met – or have known only slightly – a deceased member. For that matter, deceased members’ children or grandchildren may never know that our publication exists. But obituaries pay respect and render a measure of honor to every deceased member, whether he or she led a quite ordinary life or one overflowing with accomplishments. Here I too may sound a bit Victorian. At times I may also feel like a rabbi. It’s not my role to judge – merely to acknowledge goodness and blessings, particularly those that have benefited our community and humankind.

Q:  Could you have been an editor without having been a writer?

A: Of course I’m more interested in questions than answers. Fortunately, I never thought of myself as a writer in terms of being a stylist. In many instances, style represents artifice. My writing career began as a letter-writer at camp, and I still think that I’m telling somewhat simple, often personal, stories. If we didn’t tell them, then who would? Parents and grandparents needed to know, and so now does their progeny! 

As a result of writing for historical journals for more than two decades, however, it has certainly become easier for me to research and tell more complicated stories. I write at least one article in each issue of The Notes, and my voice is probably detectable in many others. Essentially, I appreciate the challenge of doing some new and perhaps original work. Then again, I don’t much bother going back to read things I wrote long ago (and discover horrible mistakes).

As you can see, I live in three time zones – the past, present and future – as do we all. I try not to inhabit the past because it is more sheltering than the other zones. Rather, I think of myself as basically a visual person, who can see or aspires to see so much around him. Indeed, I often begin with a photo, a painting, a building or an artifact.

Q:  Finally, isn’t it a bit ironic that you’ve written so much about Rhode Island and edited The Notes when you’re actually a transplant? 

A:  Yes, but that may be a reason I can see so much that is both beautiful and bizarre about Rhode Island. Rhode Islanders, I’m afraid, take too much for granted. I also think that I have an outsider’s perspective because I am a Jew. Betsey and I have lived here for almost 28 years, and we reared Molly and Michael here. We have belonged to Beth-El for all those years, and we reside in a home nearly a century old. I’ve been delighted to serve on the board of the Rhode Island Historical Society. But Betsey and I know that we will never be accepted as Rhode Islanders. I’m actually proud of referring to my childhood home, Los Angeles, which we have visited many times each year, so I call myself a “Rhode Angeleno.”

Editor’s note: George M. Goodwin, who much enjoys conducting oral history interviews, wrote this interview with himself. You might call this a written “selfie.”