Aug 2, 2012
Parent Accuses City of Cover-up
Mayor Michael Bloomberg is against the traditional method of making a bris. Is he also connected to the Department of Health hiding information as one parent claims.
By Debbie Maimon, Yated
For the second time in a month, evidence has surfaced about a case of neonatal herpes that shatters a myth about metzitzah b'peh (mbp) that the New York City Department of Health (DOH) is bent on propagating.
The DOH wants to prohibit mohelim from performing the practice during circumcision, claiming it can lead to death or brain damage in newborns by spreading herpes infection (HSV-1). No direct evidence in the medical literature supports this allegation. In addition, it flies in the face of clear evidence of an impressive record of safety over thousands of years of practice.
Nonetheless, the DOH has irrationally embraced the notion that mbp is life-threatening to infants almost as an article of faith.
A recent DOH report ascribes a 2011 case of neonatal death and an earlier 2005 case of neonatal brain damage to a herpes infection which it says was caused by metzitzah b'peh. The two cases are used to spread fear that the practice is dangerous to newborns and to rally public support for a DOH proposal aimed at severely limiting mbp.
In a live interview with Yated earlier this month, however, the mother of the baby who died came forward to set the record straight. Mrs. K. testified that her newborn's older sibling who had recurrent oral herpes–a fact recorded in hospital records—and had shared his pacifier with the infant, had been the likely source of the infection.
This week, Mr. R., the father of the baby in a second case cited by the DOH, in which a herpes infection in an infant led to brain damage, stepped forward with startling disclosures.
In an interview with Yated, Mr. R. exposed the fallacy of the DOH's assertion that the mohel was the most likely source of the infection. His testimony points to infection inadvertently transmitted by his wife, who had recurrent mouth sores before the onset of her baby's symptoms, and who testified as much to hospital authorities.
HUNTING DOWN THE MOHEL
Unfortunately, the DOH's blind focus on mbp has diverted attention from the more likely causes–infection by a sibling, parent or other caregiver–and has robbed the public of educational information vital to the proper care of newborns.
In addition, as will be seen below through Mr. R.'s testimony, the DOH's efforts to lay blame at the doorstep of mohelim has led it to badger and harass the parents of the sick newborns to identify the mohel and to divulge information about the milah.
These intimidation tactics included bringing in CPS (Child Protective Services) to pressure the parents to talk, or face having a case of "child neglect" opened against them.
In the case of Mr. R., frustrated at the parents' lack of cooperation, the DOH even subpoenaed the couple's rov, a distinguished Brooklyn rabbinic leader and halachic authority. DOH officials subjected the rov to a hostile interrogation in an effort to extract information about the mohel, the baby's circumcision and the rov's colleagues and congregants, who might then be similarly pressured to divulge information.
Although almost seven years have passed since these events, neither Mr. R. or his rov, Rabbi P. have forgotten the anguish they caused.
In an interview with Yated, Mr. R. said he was galvanized to come forward after reading about a similar case of neonatal herpes described above, in which the infant died. The mother was made a subject of a criminal investigation after refusing to disclose the name of the mohel.
"I couldn't help but notice how similar our stories are," Mr. R. told this writer. "You would think in a hospital the main interest would be how to help the baby. But we did not feel this was their main concern. Behind the friendly façade, they were trying to build a case of child neglect against us because we wouldn't give them the information they wanted about the mohel."
At the time these events played out, Mrs. R. was running back and forth from the hospital to her family, trying to take care of her children and keep the home running, while coping with the devastating fact that her new baby had brain damage.
"She would me call me crying about how they were hounding her at the hospital and asking what she should do," Rabbi P. who was present at the Yated interview, recalled. "Until I myself was subpoenaed and questioned in the same manner, I could never have imagined responsible officials would conduct themselves this way."
SHE BELIEVED IT'S HER FAULT
Recalling the traumatic saga of herpes infection that led to brain damage in his infant son, Mr. R. recounted to Yated, in the presence of his lawyer, Mr. Yerachmiel Simins, the events that led up to the baby's hospitalization first in Maimonides Medical Center and afterwards in Columbia Presbyterian.
He said that at seven weeks old, one week after the baby's bris which due to jaundice had been delayed, the infant came down with a rash and blisters in the diaper area. Doctors at Maimonides diagnosed herpes and treated the infection.
After two weeks the baby was discharged, only to be rushed to Columbia three weeks later when he was stricken with seizures. The parents learned that the HSV-1 infection had spread internally, causing irreversible brain damage.
Mr. R. recalled being questioned repeatedly at both hospitals about the identity of the mohel and whether mbp was performed. The couple declined to respond.
In response to inquiries about whether anyone in the family had herpes at the time of the baby's illness, Mr. R. recalled that his wife had told health workers she herself had suffered a bout of mouth sores prior to the baby's hospitalization.
Had health workers pursued this important clue, they would have learned that Mrs. R. herself believed, after learning how a herpes infection is transmitted, that she herself had unknowingly infected her baby due to her own cold sores.
As she told her lawyer, Mr. Simins, she had a habit of biting her index finger; when applying ointment to the circumcision cut on her baby and changing the gauze dressing, that is the finger she invariably used. She suspected that the germs were carried from her saliva to her baby via her index finger as she was never told to wash her hands before changing the dressing–and never did.
This vital roadmap to the baby's illness was ignored by the hospital and the DOH in their knee-jerk attempt to link the infant's infection with the mohel.
BUILDING A CHILD NEGLECT CASE
"My wife got the brunt of the questions because she was in the hospital with the baby most of the time," Mr. R. recalled. "They would try to get the name of the mohel in all kinds of ways, sometimes by working the question into a friendly conversation, like, "So you made a bris recently? I have a new grandchild whose bris is next week. Which mohel did you use?"
When indirect questioning failed to yield results, frustrated health workers resorted to other methods. Plans were put into place to open a case of child neglect against Mr. and Mrs. R.
A meeting was called with at least ten doctors, nurses and DOH officials to discuss the potential for such an investigation.
"One of the doctors who attended this meeting later shared this information with me," Mr. R. recalled. "He said the meeting's purpose was to find a way to pressure us to give the DOH the information they wanted. Another doctor and friend of family, Dr. Allan Werzberger, pointed out to me on the medical chart the signatures of all the people at this meeting He said it might be a good idea to have a copy of his memo but I didn't follow it up."
Mysteriously, when the hospital turned over the baby's medical records to Mr. R. upon his request, the document about the meeting was cut off at the bottom, with the names of the attendees missing.
But evidence of the scheme to concoct a case of medical neglect jumps out from the paper trail left in handwritten notes by Child Advocate Coordinator Dr. Jocelyn Brown, who was called in by the DOH's Dr. Susan Blank. The notes sum up a meeting with Dr. Blank over the problem of Mrs. R. refusing to crumble under pressure and what to do about it.
"Mom not giving DOH much information about the time and place of the circumcision and who did it," Dr. Brown's "Child Protection Consultation" begins. The notes go on to describe a chilling strategy to be used in extracting the information. "We discussed the possibility of reporting [Mr. and Mrs. R.] for medical neglect and lack of cooperation in providing information to the DOH."
CITY'S OFFENSIVE GAINS MOMENTUM
The offensive against metzizah b'peh, far from abating, has picked up momentum, as remarks by Mayor Bloomberg last week denouncing the ritual as "putting a child's life in danger" were played up by the media.
"We will not permit this practice [of mbp] to the extent that we can stop it," the mayor said.
Bloomberg's remarks drew fire for being insensitive and disrespectful.
"Orthodox Judaism isn't barbaric," said Brooklyn Assemblyman Dov Hikind. "Who cares more about children than their own parents? There's no call for Mayor Bloomberg to speak disrespectfully to our community, to speak condescendingly about our cultural traditions."
The rabid offensive against mbp has sounded an alarm in Orthodox Jewish groups who view the city's stance as irrational and indicative of an agenda that has little to do with a public health issue.
VIOLATION OF 'INFORMED CONSENT' PROPOSAL
A DOH proposal under serious consideration would prohibit mohelim from performing mbp without first cautioning the baby's parents about the alleged life-threatening dangers. The mohel would be required by law to obtain the parents' written consent on official government forms.
Prominent Orthodox organizations in America, Canada and Israel have joined forces to vigorously protest the city's efforts to interfere with the sacred mitzvah of bris milah, and to issue a rebuttal of its unproven medical claims.
In a pair of hard-hitting legal overtures to the DOH by acclaimed legal firms Jones Day and Summer/Young, Orthodox Jewish leaders from Agudath Israel, The Central Rabbinic Congress of the USA and Canada (CRC) and the International Bris Association (IBA) have warned that the city's proposal to regulate mbp –if adopted–will trigger a fierce court battle over its legality.
The legal letters addressed to the DOH attack the proposed amendment for violating the bedrock constitutional rights to freedom of religion and freedom of speech.
"The proposal is not just bad public policy," wrote Jones Day attorneys Shay Dvoretzky and Yaakov Roth on behalf of IBA, "it would interject the government into venerable religious ritual that boasts an incredible safety record." There is no precedent for such government intrusion into Jewish ritual.
The Jones Day memo also blasted the city for seeking to force mohelim to say something they fiercely dispute. That is a direct violation of the right of Freedom of Speech, the brief said.
The law that protects one's right to speak freely also protects him from being forced to utter something against his will. To compel a mohel to participate in "a misguided effort to spread undue fear about metzitzah b'peh" is clearly illegal, the letter argued.
PROPOSAL SUSPICIOUSLY VAGUE
Attorneys Dean Summer and Jeffrey Baker writing on behalf of the CRC, exposed additional flaws in the proposal about "informed consent," noting that it contained no model text or specific language that would enable the public to make an informed choice to approve or reject it.
How can the community accept a proposal whose parameters and implementation are unknown at the present time, and will only be decided [by the DOH] at a later stage?
Given the erosion of trust about DOH motives with respect to mbp, and the suspicion that a political agenda is driving the train, why would the Jewish community be receptive to even a benign-sounding proposal about a limited form of government regulation?
The issue has generated unprecedented solidarity among all streams in the Orthodox world, uniting the full spectrum of Chasidic and Litvish communities against any form of government regulation of mbp.
Agudath Israel in a separate letter to the DOH said the proposal, if adopted, would poison Jewish community relations with the DOH, destroying trust and undermining good will.
"It would foster the perception in the community that the DOH is heavy-handed, set on direct confrontation and not interested in working with the community," the letter said.
It urged the DOH to rethink its approach and to turn to the 2006 protocols adopted by New York State in cooperation with doctors and rabbis representing the Orthodox Jewish community.
STANDING UP TO HYSTERIA
The 2006 protocols called for public education about the risks of nenonatal herpes and the warning signs to be on guard for. It also required specific sanitary procedures formohelim to follow which should eliminate any possible risk of transmitting infection.
The protocols were hammered out six years ago in extensive negations between the NY State Health Department and representatives of the Orthodox Jewish community. Experts believe they have been effective in raising safety standards.
Yet city officials feel the need to depart from the protocols and insist on "informed consent" to curtail mbp. Why? This intransigence and bias has baffled observers and spurred suspicion that a political agenda has overtaken genuine public health concerns.
The CRC in a letter to the Department outlined the "fatal legal flaws" and "flawed medical science" underlying the proposal for "informed consent." The letter added that "we trust in the Department to stand up to what verges on hysteria and recognize that legitimate public health education can be undertaken to protect infants from HSV-1, without intruding on our religious rites."
Many see the DOH proposal for informed consent as a dangerous harbinger of further restrictions and regulations to come. Suppose "informed consent" is adopted but fails to limit the practice of mbp? Will the next step be a proposal to ban it entirely, as Mayor Bloomberg has made it clear he would like to do? What next? Targeting bris milah itself?
MEDICAL RECORDS TELL A CHILLING STORY
Mr. R. is in possession of his child's medical records from Columbia and shared their contents with this writer. The record shows that when the time came to discharge the baby from Columbia, the couple was informed that an ACS (Administration for Child Services) coordinator had been called in by the Department of Health to determine if there were grounds to suspect child neglect.
Mr. R. understood this to be a threat. "They let me know my life would be a lot easier if I just gave up the name of the mohel," he said.
From the handwritten notes by the aforementioned Dr. Jocelyn Brown, the Child Advocate Coordinator in the case, a picture emerges of Dr. Susan Blank attempting to implement the threat by enlisting Dr. Brown in a scheme to report the couple for medical neglect.
Dr. Brown describes the strategy in her notes under "PLAN":
The plan calls for "DOH to continue to get all the [baby's] medical records from the outpatient department;" to arrange "a meeting with the DOH and Mr. and Mrs. R. to obtain details about who the mohel was and where the circumcision was done." And lastly, "to discuss possibility of reporting [for medical neglect] with medical and DOH team."
The baby's medical records along with the medical records of the couple's other three children were in fact requisitioned by the DOH and turned over by the family's pediatrician. In addition, a psychiatric evaluation was ordered for Mrs. R. to determine if she was a fit parent.
The record shows further that discussion took place about whether to hold up the baby's discharge while an investigation was underway, and the possibility of placing the baby in a special "therapeutic nursery." [Read: remove the baby from mother's care.]
Below are excepts from the Mr. R's baby's medical records, in which the groundwork was being laid to launch an investigation into the couple's incompetence as parents.
Under "Case Management: Social Worker/DOH Issues: Dr. Susan Blank," it was noted that "Dr. Blank spoke to Mom. Mom not forthcoming with information regarding details of circumcision; date, who performed it; how it was performed, etc."
The psychiatric evaluation was even more damning. Mrs. R. was described as showing "flat affect" (little or no emotion), and "as not engaging well with infant when examiners in room."
The report went on to say that the mother "was not forthcoming about information"; that she was "guarded" … and "refused interview" with the psychiatrist. [Which mother, knowing she was at the mercy of "examiners" who were scrutinizing her for negative findings would behave differently?]
The Discharge Summary went on to recommend infant-caregiver therapy (teach mother how to love and care for her baby) and to assign the baby to a "possible therapeutic nursery," while the discharge was being stalled.
LAST MINUTE CHANGE OF HEART
Fortunately for Mr. and Mrs. R., the Child Advocate Coordinator, Dr. Jocelyn Brown had a change of heart. As she became more involved in the case and better acquainted with Mrs. R, she saw no basis for a claim of medical or child neglect and according to the Discharge Summary, said so. Thus, the disastrous consequences to which a case of medical neglect would have led thankfully did not materialize.
The Discharge Summary notes this sudden turnaround: "After further assessment by the primary medical team" (Mrs. R.'s physicians as opposed to experts called in by the DOH), the recommendation to remove the baby from his mother's care was found to be "not necessary." In line with her doctor's evaluation, Mrs. R. was deemed "capable and with good social support," as well as "active with her child."
The baby was discharged but the DOH obstinately refused to drop the case. Two weeks later, Mr. and Mrs. R. were subpoenaed and questioned again by the same Dr. Susan Blank whose plans had been thwarted by Dr. Brown.
Frustrated at their failure to pry information from the parents about the mohel and whether mbp was performed, Blank and Dr. Julie Shillinger then subpoenaed the couple's rov,Rabbi P. Together with a third woman, Ms. Goldberg-Kahn, counsel for the DOH, the women questioned the rov relentlessly.
For a half hour, Rabbi P. was interrogated about whom he discussed the case with, as if "the case" involved a crime.
Did you discuss it with your colleagues? With congregants? With any members of the Mr. and Mrs. R.'s family? Have you told anyone who performed the baby's circumcision? Have you discussed the baby having metzitzah b'peh with anyone other than Mr. and Mrs. R.? Has anyone discussed the circumcision with you other than Mr. and Mrs. R.?
Rabbi P., who on the advice of counsel refused to answer many of the questions, described the scenario as "shameful."
Without a shred of evidence linking the mohel to the baby's contraction of herpes, he says, "there was no justification for badgering a rabbinic leader totally unconnected to the episode about his private conversations with colleagues and congregants. There was no excuse to harass me about what I may have said to anyone about anything at all. This was an abuse of power."
"It was strictly for the purpose of intimidation, to insult kovod haTorah on the pretext of protecting the public."
The greatest irony in all this, Rabbi P. said, "is that there is no government or system anywhere in the world that places a higher value on life than the Torah. But for people hostile to Yiddishkeit, metzitzah b'peh sells well as a way of ridiculing frum Jews and the Torah."
Bloomberg will still get all the suckers in CH shaking his hand when he comes here.
1.If you read the article carefully, you relise, that if it was because of the mohel it would be in their intrest to lie about it.
2.Even if it weren't in their intrest, It is vary likely that people int the Chasideshe community, are threatening them into lying
In His Hour of Need
By Boruch V. Hoffinger
This story, though unbelievable, is true. Firstly, however, one can see how the teaching in Pirke Avos (Chapters [Ethics] of the Fathers) Chapter II, Mishna 3, came true. The teaching is: "Raban Gamliel, the son of Rabbi Judah HaNassi, said: 'Be wary of those in power, for they befriend a person only for their own benefit; they seem to be friends when it is to their advantage, but they do not stand by a person in his hour of need.' "
(When a non-Jewish cop heard this story he said: “The city owes you a lifetime of income, including interest you might have gotten from a bank. What they did was terrible.”)
My name is Boruch V. Hoffinger (Bruce). I live in Crown Heights with my wife Brouria, and six children.
I was born in Brooklyn Women’s Hospital on Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights and lived with my family in Boro Park, Brooklyn, knowing next to nothing about Judaism. I became Shomer Shabbat in 1972 at the age of 29. I had felt my life was going the wrong way, that I was living a lie, so I decided to search for the truth and found Judaism.
As a 29 -year-old non-observant Jew I didn't have the inner strength and conviction as I have now, due to learning and Mitvot (good deeds). It was 1975 and I had just graduated Cooper Union with a BFA. I had tried to get a teaching job as a high school art teacher but the bottom fell out of the teaching market.
I then decided it would be wonderful to work for the City of New York - perhaps I could be helpful somewhere. Seeing an ad in The Chief (a Civil Service newspaper) in the 1970's, I decided to take two tests that were given on a Saturday (at that time I was not an observant Jew). One test was titled Police Administrative Aide (PAA), which required a high school diploma and the second was Hearing Administrative Services Coordinator for the Parking Violations Bureau, which required a college degree-I possessed both.
I passed both tests. As it was the Parking Violations Bureau was not hiring so I took the job with the police department as a Civil Servant. Proud, excited and eager to work with the City of New York City Police Department, I made my way to the Police Academy on 23rd street in Manhattan, for the six-week training course. The course consisted of: touch-typing, penal law, English composition, and interpersonal interaction.
I graduated in the upper third of the class and was assigned to work at the seventy-sixth Precinct on Union Street, right near the Gowanus Expressway in Redhook, Brooklyn. Unfortunately I could not get the assignment I desired-the Complaint Room. This is where one goes when they have to file a complaint about, for instance, a broken sidewalk or they have an automobile accident, or where burglarized, etc. This is where I could use my skills analyzing crime levels, composing and typing reports and filling out forms. I ended up working on the telephone switchboard, which left me unhappy, and, underemployed. Here I stayed for two-and-a-half years.
When I started to work, I was told I had to go see a psychiatrist sometime during the course of my 6-month trial period. The reason, I was told, was that because I had a 4-F (psychologically unfit) on my draft record this was required. It really was only a formality.
The 4-F on my draft record came about because during the Vietnam crises, when there was a draft call, I had broken up with my Jewish girlfriend (thank G-d, even though, at that time I couldn't see the good in it.) and was quite depressed. Therefore, I went to a friend of the family psychiatrist and received the classification. Hoping to get out of the draft, one of my relatives stayed up all night drinking coffee. The next day he went to the same psychiatrist, appearing as though he was afraid of the nose on his face, and also received a 4-F. The Vietnamese war was a fiasco.
Tenured after 6 months at work I received notice to appear at the Woolworth building in Manhattan for the psychiatric evaluation.
My father Harry, who had a delicatessen on Avenue J in Flatbush, had an accountant/attorney named Mr. Karlsbaum (not real name). He handled the New York City's Police and Fireman's pension account. Mr. Karlsbaum told my father to warn me to be wary at the interview because the doctor might try to find something wrong with me due to the political climate-certain powers wanted to get Afro-Americans into city jobs, even if it meant pushing out non-Afro-American.
After receiving this information, I went to the interview fearful and nervous-I didn't want to lose my job. I was hoping to marry and I needed an income and a good name.
I entered the cavernous, intimidating lobby of the Woolworth building. This lobby must have been designed to show the smallness of the individual and the greatness of the city, or maybe of Woolworth and Co., I don't know which. Which ever it was, it worked. The golden, ornately designed ceiling engulfing us stood on towering, soaring pillars at least 6 or 7 stories high, dwarfing the awed viewer.
Down, next to the tall, wide arch was a simple, sole desk and a chair seating a receptionist who pleasantly asked your business (from a distance she looked like an ant in the Grand Canyon); entranced I approached the desk, stated my business, and took the elevator to the required floor. Another receptionist directed me to the designated room and I duly entered.
It was a small room with a two simple wooden chairs and desk. A lone window letting in the morning sunshine overlooked Broadway many floors below (the Woolworth Building, at one time, was the tallest building in Manhattan).
I sat down in the chair next to the desk, assuming that the one facing the desk was for the psychiatrist.
There is a quip in the Talmud related to this regarding Chanukah. A merchant has a large load of flax on a camel as he walks past a narrow street where a shop has a Chanukah menorah hanging high up. The owner says: “watch out for your load sir, one spark from that menorah can ruin your whole cargo!” One sitting in a psychiatrist’s chair can start a whole journey—little did I know it but I had sat down in the Sing-Sing electric chair!
In walked the doctor, a very beautiful (Jewish!) woman. She was modestly dressed in a very fashionable way. Smiling, she began by asking me to tell me something about my background: where I grew up, about my family and friends, etc. I proceeded fearfully to frankly describe my past.
"Well, I commenced, I grew up in Boro Park in the 40's and went to Public School 192 on 18th avenue..."
I talked pleasantly and consistently trying to hide my fear. After about fifteen minutes, I changed my attitude. I thought: "she's not trying to find something wrong with me; I don't believe it" "She's much too nice,” I thought. I stopped looking at her with a skeptical look, and for the final fifteen minutes relaxed.
After the interview (after they turned off the electricity and the medical examiner examined the corpse) the doctor gave me a thick long book that, I was told, was a university personality profile test. She told me she would soon leave. Upon completion of the book, I could hand it to the secretary on my way out.
"Take your time,” she said. "Just give honest answers. This won't hurt you in any way."
The doctor left and I finished the book one half-hour later, handed it to the secretary, and left. Walking down Broadway I felt relieved. “Ah,” I thought, “I’m glad that’s over.”
Two days later while working at the Union Street station house I heard a message clattering away on the noisy teletype machine: PAA Hoffinger summarily dismissed!
Well, don't ask — I was shocked and hurt, traumatized would be more apt. Two policemen with whom I was friendly drove me to my apartment on 72nd street off Fort Hamilton Parkway in Brooklyn (My brother's old apartment) and I handed over my photo I.D. that I had forgotten that day.
The patrol-car driver, a friendly soul, said:
"Bruce, what happened? I'm really sorry about this Bruce.”
He shook his head in bewilderment and drove away. There I stood on a sunny spring day feeling very depressed—abandoned by a city that I had cherished.
I stood there all alone on a sunny morning. The streets were quiet.
“I don’t believe in G-d.” I thought to myself.
Here I was starting to study ‘Torah’ in ‘Yeshiva Hadar HaTorah’ in Crown Heights while holding down a full-time job in order to wed.
“Why has G-d done this to me?” I thought. I was in pain. . . much pain.
Holding my ‘yarmulka’ in my hand I was about to throw it away...turn it into a ‘frisbee’ but I stopped.
“There must be a reason for this. G-d is too great, too deep...there must be a reason. There must be.”
I put the ‘yarmulka’ back on my head.
I slowly grew angry realizing that perhaps the doctor was trying to find something wrong with me! Such a nice Jewish lady! What, is an Afro-American’s blood is redder than mine! Then I thought, "Perhaps it was an error?" I didn't know which, but soon, I garnered a fighting spirit. Down with depression and guilt-fight! Being a Kohaine must be an advantage because when I get angry my blood starts to boil like mount Vesuvius (I'm not extinct, I can assure you!). I was determined to get back a job I didn't like. I had to get married!
I went to my father's (Tzvi-Harry Hoffinger, A”H) store ‘Golden Caterers’ and told him the story. He told me to try to get a lawyer. He called the office of Morris L. Weisberg who recommended Morris L. Weisberg who handled the John De Lury account (Mr. DeLury was the head of the Uniform Sanitation Workers Union). I was told Morris L. Weisberg received $50,000 a year just from this account. Ah!, I thought, here's a real professional– a fighter! However, I told my father that being a member of District Council 37 (The biggest municipal labor union) I probably could find help there without paying for the services of an attorney. So off I went to the labor union headquarters in Manhattan.
The first receptionist I approached told me to go to a different floor, which I proceeded to do. When I arrived there, the receptionist told me that since there was a budget crisis no one was getting any assistance.
I said: "I am sorry but I was fired illegally."
She answered: "why was it illegal?" "Perhaps the city was right".
"No,” I retorted: "I spoke to an attorney and he said A Civil Servant has to go through a 6-month trial period called 'tenure'. After six months, if he or she performs at least successfully, they are tenured civil servants and cannot be fired without a free hearing. If they are a danger to the public, they can be suspended without pay. For instance, I continued, the lawyer told me if a cop is photographed in a bank with a gun in his had holding up a teller, he cannot be fired. He can be suspended without pay but is entitled to a free hearing. I was fired outright and denied a free hearing. The city broke the law on two counts— some city, they break their own laws!" “Tell me,” I said, “If the lawmaker is also a lawbreaker, why should the average citizen obey the law?
The receptionist said that not only did they have a budget crisis but also all the attorneys were in Atlantic City due to a nurse's strike.
Well, being a doer I didn't accept no for an answer and went from office to office patiently waiting for some salvation from this mess, but to no avail.
I left the union building and decided it was time to fight—back to The Woolworth Building! Considering it wise, I called the Civil Service Commission on Broadway to procure some information in writing regarding my firing. I got on the line with the secretary of the commission, Mr. L., and asked him:
"Please, I've been thinking out this psychiatric interview, is it possible to know why I was fired? I want to fight this outrage in court."
"No" he said, "I cannot give out this information over the phone, it's confidential."
I asked: "Could I just ask you one question?"
"Alright" he said.
"Was it because of the interview?" I queried.
"Yes" he answered.
My suspicions held true. I knew it wasn't because of the test results. The doctor took my fearful, suspicious looks, the wrong way! I kept looking at her with squinted eyes, furled brows, and a distrustful look. I imagined she had some sinister plot in mind—“she was probably being paid off,” I thought. The doctor, viewing my facial expressions, must have thought I was Machine-Gun Kelly. This Jewish psychiatrist was ‘melamed chov’ towards me! This must be the reason! Then I made an appointment the next day for 4 in the afternoon to get the findings in writing. I was told to bring some form of picture i.d.
It was now 3:30 PM the next day. I walked up Broadway towards the Woolworth Building and entered the cavernous lobby veering to the right. Walking towards the receptionist, I greeted her, stated my case, and sat down on a simple wooden bench to her right.
Sitting there I remembered all the things I believed in when I was young. How I believed in the American way of life and everything it stood for. I gazed at the soaring and vaulted arches feeling somehow a change had come over me, strangely, I almost felt blessed. Four O'clock came and went. I slowly started to get annoyed. Four-thirty, four-forty, four-fifty.
"Excuse me, sir, " said the receptionist, "we are closing in ten minutes, and you must leave.”
"One minute please,” I said "you know I had a four o'clock appointment with Mr. London. I was fired illegally, and now they ignore my appointment. Miss, no one even called to inform you! I am angry and won't leave. Call the whole police department, they won't get me out of here!"
"Sir, one minute, I will call the Secretary."
Then the receptionist told me that the secretary (head of the commission) would be right down. Moments later the secretary appeared with a small envelope, handed it to me, and walked away without a word. Was he indifferent, embarrassed? --I didn't know.
I eagerly opened the envelope and read: "Reasons for termination: tense (fired for being tense? Give me a pill or massage. Maybe read me some poetry?); hostile (I had finished my six-month tenure, saved someone's life on the phone [a rich girl wanted to cut her wrists but I held her on the phone and tried to lift her spirits until help arrived], I had friends in the station house, joked with the desk lieutenant and now I'm public enemy number one?) defensive (in sports you can make a lot of money being a good defense); marked loneliness (imagine firing someone from a job for being lonely! I could understand it if it was contagious and I might spread the disease of loneliness), judgment impaired (what impairment I had I wasn't sure, perhaps this was a symptom of my impaired judgment, or perhaps working for the city was the true proof of impaired judgment), unable to deal with the public or co-workers (the doctor must have had prophetic powers to see back 6 months and all the things I did. She decided in fifteen minutes that I couldn't deal with the public. I dealt with the public all day long. Well, don’t argue with a psychiatrist. They’re smarter than you, know all, see all—the modern G-ds—they have the power of life and death in their hands—they take away your livelihood, which is your bread and butter!
Next I contacted the lawyer and was told, would cost me $800. I agreed and personally gave him a down payment. I showed him the letter from the Civil Service Commission.
"Fine, fine" he said. "Good strategy.” “Now it might be beneficial if you could go to a psychiatrist to overturn these findings.” "Try to pick a doctor who has much experience and is well-known.”
"Mr. Waysburg, thank you. I'm on my way" I said, and left.
I called my father who knew someone who knew someone who recommended a Dr. T near Prospect Park, Brooklyn. I called and made an appointment after explaining the reasons.
I entered the doctor's office and was politely asked to sit down in the waiting room. The doctor entered, greeted me, and motioned to enter his office. I sat down in the chair facing his desk and said:
"Hello doctor," "I think I understand what happened at the psychiatric interview.”
Angrily and loudly, the doctor yelled: "I'll be the one to determine that!"
Shocked and upset I sat there with cold hands. I had not realized I had angered the doctor by saying what I did. I apologized and told him I didn't know what to do in a psychiatric interview. The doctor seemed satisfied and calmed down.
"Why do you want to work in the police department, there are many crazy people working there", he said.
I was about to say the same to him about the psychiatric profession, but held my peace. (I used to hear about psychiatrists committing suicide because of all their patients' problems) — after the first outburst, I was afraid of the second. Funny, I thought, I scared the first doctor and now this one is scaring me! Perhaps he's "tense, hostile, etc?" I was about to suggest us exchanging seats but that would probably instigate another outburst.
Sitting on the same Sing-Sing electric chair (funny, how that chair gets around!) I showed the doctor the termination findings and within twenty minutes, he said they were untrue. I was then able to tell him about my fear of being fired and he understood my reactions at the interview and the psychiatrist's perceptions. Dr. Tren then gave me the same university personality profile test and was told to wait 3 days for the results. I left the doctor's office with mixed feelings and one hundred and fifty dollars poorer (the visit was $75 and the test, the same). Little did I know it but I would be seeing him again (oh vey)!
The day of the hearing arrived and I proceeded to the United States Federal Court Building in downtown Manhattan, just a stone's throw (I know - I'm violent!) from my lawyer's office and the Woolworth building. I entered the impressive edifice and proceeding to the designated court. Inside there was an imposing judge's bench, a handsome gate in front of it, and many benches after that. "A real courtroom", I thought. I've never even been in a real court--exciting! Now I'll get justice! I believe in America! When I was young and went to Public School 192 on 18th Avenue and forty-sixth street in Boro Park I used to say the Pledge of Allegiance with tears in my eyes-I loved (still do) America and everything it stood for: liberty, justice, one nation under G-d."
Soon my attorney appeared and then Mr. London entered. Mr. London as treasurer represented the Corporation Council (he signed the checks) because the city had a budget deficit and was being run by the council (the city was in default). Then the court stenographer entered and took a seat next to the judge's stand. A lone man walked in and sat down on one of the benches - the hearing was open to the public. My attorney rose and I asked:
"Why are you rising?"
"Federal Judge Robert Carter is here,” he responded.
Impressed and excited I respectfully stood. The Afro-American federal judge entered in flowing robes — an impressive sight. I admired him very much. I remembered back when I was in Art and Design High School. My best friend was Albinet Stewart, an Afro-american. Surely this judge would be as friendly and honest as Albinet was.
The judge took his seat and Mr. London motioned everyone to be seated. Then my lawyer approached the bench with the results of the psychiatric finding and the dismissal note, signed by the Civil Service Secretary.
"Mr. Hoffinger should not have been terminated and should not have been denied a hearing," said Mr. London."
The stenographer was busy transcribing all the conversations. I asked my attorney why Mr. London said what he did.
"It's the law, he has to state the law," he said.
My attorney started to talk to the judge but appeared quite calm and collected. I didn't understand this because I was angry and wanted justice. I asked him afterwards:
"Why did you talk so quietly to Judge Carter?" "This thing is such an outrage."
"Oh, he's an emotional judge" he replied.
To this day, I do not know what that meant, but it felt like a bad omen.
"Make a motion to dismiss the case," said the judge to Mr. London.
I sat there puzzled.
"What does that mean?" I asked my lawyer.
"The judge doesn't feel you have a case" he replied.
"How can I not have a case?" I answered. "Mr. London clearly stated that the city broke the law on 2 counts. How can I not have a case?" "Even if I was unfit for public service according to law I'm not permitted to be fired."
"They don't care about you, so why do you care about them?" he said.
I was shocked.
By this time, I was in a state of disbelief. I started to see these 2 men, who I first admired and respected, as evildoers. "Wow,” I thought. "Here's a judge who's trying to get whites out of city jobs to make way for Afro-Americans!" I felt, sitting there clean-shaven in my black, knit yarmulka, like a rabbi-of-old dealing with deceitful goyisha leaders.
Mr. London didn't respond to the judge's request. I asked my lawyer why Mr. London didn't make a motion to dismiss the case.
"Mr. London is afraid that if he makes a motion to dismiss the case, that then you'll go to jury trial in federal court, where you'll possibly win," answered Mr. Kesbaum.
"What do you mean by 'possibly'? " I asked.
"Well, since it's a jury trial one doesn't know who's on the jury" he answered.
"Oh no", I thought, "I went from incompetent doctors to poor unions, to angry doctors, venal judges, greedy treasurers and now anti-Semites."
"How much does it cost?" I asked.
He held up his hand as if holding something and said, "The carpets in Federal court are very thick. You'll need, at least, $1,500 for an attorney and about $75 an hour for a forensic psychiatrist.
"What's a forensic psychiatrist?" I queried.
"He's a doctor who knows the law" he replied.
"Boruch,” he said "let me go talk to Mr. London, perhaps he's willing to make a deal out of court."
My lawyer walked over to Mr. London and started a conversation. A few moments later, he returned.
"Mr. London is willing to give you back your job if you see another civil-service psychiatrist, and if he feels you are fit you can go back to work, but you must give up your back pay (I had been unemployed about 3 months). However, I arranged another deal that he likes. You will go to see a private psychiatrist of your choice, even the same one again, and then a civil service one, and if there is a conflict, a third chosen by these two".
This whole exchange left me with a crazed type of feeling. From a doctor's misperception at an interview this whole thing grew into a real 'Federal case'--the molehill became a mountain! What a mess: A friendly, warm, incompetent psychiatrist then a second, arrogant one. A frightened attorney, a self-serving venal judge, and a selfish and lazy treasurer.
Thoughts rushed through my mind...memories. I remember when I went to Public School 192 in Boro Park, where I grew up. I used to say ‘The Pledge of Allegiance’ and cry. I loved America.
Slowly, that funny feeling overcame me again. I started to feel detached from my surroundings. I remembered the feeling in the Woolworth Building lobby. I felt somehow relieved. I started to feel I was sitting in some type of theater – that these were all actors on a stage. Needing advice quickly, I asked for a break, and headed for a telephone to call a friend.
"Don't sue the city," he said, "they'll hound you, and they'll make your life miserable. You'll never get a job with the city again. That's the way they are"
Not being so religious or learned at the time (which certainly weakened by faith in The A-lmighty and my courage), and not being so connected as I am today (with Lubavitch) I decided not to sue. I told my attorney I would agree to the out-of-court settlement.
The next day I went to Dr. Hant again. He seemed a little surprise but the ending was a happy one with him giving me a clean bill of health. Soon afterwards I had an interview with a Jewish civil service psychiatrist. We said a few words to one another but then I sat silently. He said:
"So why don't you talk,” "I'm not trying to find something wrong with you".
I continued in my silence, but smiled in a friendly way. He was a nice man and I would have loved to talk to him, but I decided I would not give anything to anyone connected with the city.
"I want to see you one more time," he said. "Tomorrow will be fine".
"I'm not doctor Jekyl and Mr. Hyde" I responded.
"Nevertheless, I prefer it" he said.
(I realized, later, that I should have told him that I’m not interested in seeing him because it seems illegal and immoral. Why should a tenured civil servant be deemed ‘fit’ or not by anybody...arbitrarily...psychiatrist or not? Why not march the whole of the NYC workforce down to the psychiatrist’s office? The initial finding was obviously an error because I had been working for about seven months, and was not violent and had no problem dealing with the public. In fact, I had many friends at work and was well liked. I even temporarly, replaced a PAA in the Complaint Room [A very interesting job because one got to interview people, classify crimes and write reports, just as we learned in The NYC Police Academy. Desk officer Lieutenant DeLorenzo, who supervised me, liked my reports very much])
The next day we had our second meeting and it was satisfactory in his eyes. Soon afterwards I went back to work at the 73rd precinct on Brooklyn Avenue in Brooklyn. Subsequently, the federal law changed and civil servants had to work steady shifts instead of staggered (like the policemen do), but I couldn't tolerate the hours. I was given (it wasn't a trick) the midnight-to-eight shift because I was from the last batch of PAA's to enter. With permission, I called every precinct in the five boroughs to try to change jobs, but to no avail. The only other position available for an Administrative Aide was to type fingerprint cards in Downtown Brooklyn. This seemed like a dead-end, boring position so I decided to quit after working for the City of New York after 2 1/2 years.
In retrospect, one could be downcast at such unfortunate events. We supposedly live in a 20th Century democracy. “America, the land of the free, and the home of the brave”. At the time, this all happened I felt lonely and abandoned — it was a traumatic experience. Today, however, I realize that I put too much faith in all of these people; they are just people with a ‘Yetzer haRa.’ Were it to occur today I would have been more removed and objective and would see the unseen mover effecting all these events because of some hidden reason.
Subsequently I met a man in my ‘shul’ who told me that the government was trying to find jobs for Vietnam vets. Perhaps this is true.
Dear reader, don't be downcast and pained at the world's seeming injustice. I was able to be very victorious over N.Y.C. financially, in another way, which I cannot mention.
‘Goliath’ should not scoff at ‘Dovid HaMelech.’
EPILOGUE: On February 10, 2004 I was returning from a wedding in Baltimore, Maryland with my wife, daughter, and son-in-law; Henya, my daughter, was driving. We exited the Verrazano Bridge (Which connects Staten Island and Brooklyn NY) looking for Fort Hamilton Parkway; it was three A.M. in the morning. We traveled up 86th Street and stopped to ask a truck driver where Fort Hamilton Parkway was.
“You just passed it” he replied. We made a left turn up 12th Avenue and proceeded towards the lower street numbers and Crown Heights.
Looking in the rear-view mirror, my daughter Henny exclaimed:
“Oh there’s a cop behind us,” “I must get away from the police car.”
Why she wanted to get away was a mystery to me. She turned left on 72nd Street and stopped at a red light at the corner of 72nd and Ft. Hamilton Parkway. I looked to my left (I was sitting in the front passenger seat, half asleep.) and there was the very apartment house where I lived in 1975 (approx.), to which the officer drove me to return the picture I.D. that we had recently been issued, but I had forgotten to bring to work.
I alerted everyone in the vehicle that there was the spot I had stood, all alone, abandoned by a city I loved and cherished.
When we arrived home, I asked Henya:
“Why were you so afraid of a cop following you?”
She replied:
“I didn’t have my driver’s license (“picture I.D.”).” “I forgot it at a department store in Kings Plaza!”
Can you imagine that!
Lesson: A small amount of ‘emunah’ can go a long way.
Boruch (Bruce) V. Hoffinger B”H
1703 Union Street, Apt. #2B
Brooklyn, New York
Bhoffinger@AOL.com
718.774.9303 / 1.347.661.9077