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October 27th is a podcast that tells the story of the 2018 Pittsburgh synagogue shooting through the voices of the local community.
Each episode introduces us to the story of a person who experienced the synagogue shooting and its aftermath: survivors and family members of those who were killed, Jewish community members, and their non-Jewish neighbors.
October 27th is adapted from Meanings of October 27th, an oral history project that interviewed over 100 Pittsburghers about their life stories and reflections on the shooting.
Visit the oral history archive: https://october27archive.org/oral-histories
Donate to support this project: https://bardian.bard.edu/register/meanings
I’m Noah Schoen and I’m Aliza Becker and this is October 27th. A podcast about the October 27th, 2018 synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh. Aliza and I co-founded an oral history project that recorded over 100 interviews with local Jews and non-Jews about their life stories and reflections on the shooting. Our interviewees taught us so much and we’ve created this podcast to share their insights with you. This is October 27th.
October 27th is often referred to as the Tree of Life shooting. but what many people don’t realize is that three synagogues—and not just one—were directly impacted.
At the time of the shooting, Tree of Life was renting out space to two other synagogues— New Light and Dor Hadash. Tree of Life lost seven members. New Light lost three. And Dor Hadash lost one.
Audrey Glickman is a Tree of Life member who was there that day. Like any other Saturday, she was leading the opening prayers of the Shabbat morning service. It’s a special time when the congregation is just beginning to warm up. It was at that moment that the shooting began.
Audrey Glickman: My name is Audrey Glickman, and I live in Greenfield, which is right next to Squirrel Hill. When I was born, we lived in Squirrel Hill, and we moved right next door to what some people refer to as South Squirrel Hill, because Greenfield is exactly, directly south of Squirrel Hill. And I grew up on Boulevard Drive, Minadeo grade school, Allderdice High School and was raised as a part of the Jewish community here.
Becker: Can you describe the sounds and flavors of Squirrel Hill when you grew up?
Glickman: My grandfather was a denizen of Squirrel Hill. He would walk around with his trifocals reading the Yiddish newspaper two inches in front of his eyes, and he would jaywalk across the street and think nothing of it, just as everyone else did at the time. There were kosher butcher shops on every block. There were bakeries on every other block. And there was also, of course, the Weinstein's Delicatessen, which was huge and the food was delicious, and everyone loved going there.
And there was a pool hall where, before my dad got married, he would play pool up there. It was a lively and bustling area. And the flavor of it was Jewish. Although Squirrel Hill has never been more than forty percent Jewish in population, it does have a big flavor of being Jewish.
All the Jewish people, actually, when there would be a special occasion in the family, would go out to dinner at Poli’s Restaurant, which had lobsters in the front window. Not kosher, but they went there anyway. That’s an image of Squirrel Hill that we can hold on to.
So, the flavor hasn't changed. What I'm saying is different stores, different things, still jaywalkers all over the place, maybe reading their phones instead of the Yiddish newspaper, but it still retains its same flavor.
Becker: Can you talk about your Jewish identity growing up?
Glickman: I asked my mother to go to Hebrew school. My girlfriend two doors away was going to Hebrew school. She got to ride on a bus to her Hebrew school, and it was only two days a week. My mother decided to send me to the four days a week that I had to walk to from school. And mine was a serious Hebrew school. We were Orthodox, and we learned the blessing over the Shabbos candles a million times while the boys learned all the good stuff. And I always tried to eavesdrop, but you know we weren't supposed to do that.
B'nai Emunah, at the time, had Rabbi Joshua Weiss, who was very modern in his Orthodoxy. When we built the new sanctuary, he built it so that there was a center section where men and women could sit together—families could sit together.
I was the second girl to have a bat mitzvah ceremony there. It was Friday night, because we weren’t allowed near the Torah, and we sort of led services. After he passed away, the congregation reverted to old Orthodoxy and reinstituted the mechitza, and, and became very serious. It was on the verge of being egalitarian, but they didn't make it.
I only later learned that there were more egalitarian ways of being Jewish.
Becker: Did you have any experiences of antisemitism growing up?
Glickman: Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Kids would repeat what their parents said. And I knew they were repeating what their parents were saying, because they were saying it to me, not even knowing whether I was Jewish. And sometimes I would refute what they were saying, and sometimes I would just let it go, knowing that they were echoing what their parents were saying. But yes, of course. People said things.
And Greenfield kids were not all happy about Jewish people. People would steal things, like steal your hat off your head or, or take your books and throw them in the snow or whatever.
The antisemitism by people you know is certainly remarkable, because it teaches you that people you know to be wonderful people, who are your classmates, who you see every day, can say things that are inappropriate, not just about Jewish people, but about other people who you can hear the echoes of their parents, but they have no reason to be saying these things. And so we knew it existed. We knew it existed from watching television. We knew it existed from our parents talking.
And my parents had friends of all varieties. We didn't only hang out with Jewish people. We didn't have enough money to belong to any organizations where you go, you know like to the club or whatever it was that people went to. But my parents' friends were of various religions and colors and, and different kinds of employment or whatever. They had a variety of friends and kept them for a long time.
You know, your community is your community. You have one community in your life that's Jewish people. You have another community in your life that's the neighborhood you live in. Another community is the city of Pittsburgh. You know, you have different communities for whatever you do. You don't have to only stick to one, and that helps people intermix with other people.
I was a member of Or L'Simcha, which moved into the Tree of Life building as a tenant. And we got to meet the people who were members of Tree of Life before we joined the congregation. And that was in 2010. That was fairly recent.
The people at Tree of Life and the people at Dor Hadash, who we also got to meet are wonderful people. They're all wonderful people. So, I came into the congregation by the merger, and then I got to know people by my son working towards his bar mitzvah. And going to services more often, every week. Going to services religiously, as they say. We got to meet everyone. They are a bunch of wonderful people.
The first service that I went to with Or L'Simcha was Simchas Torah, and I was wearing a pantsuit, fresh from work, and they let me carry a torah. And although I had been a member of Beth Shalom, I had not had that kind of experience. Now, Beth Shalom, back when I was a member—and not today, today it's different—but when I was a member, the choir was only for men, only men did things, only men were involved. The women did this, the men did that. The people with money did this, the people without money did that. That didn't exist with Or L'Simcha. And again, with Tree of Life, the same.
Becker: So let’s pivot to October 27, 2018. Can you tell me about that day?
Glickman: Well, it was a Shabbat like any other. On Saturday mornings, it has been my practice for almost five years now to get ready for the synagogue and to go and pick up Joe Charny, which I did. We parked the car and said hello to a couple other people.
And it was my brother's birthday, my late brother. My brother died in 2000. And It was his birthday, and I was wearing orange pants, because orange was his favorite color. I was wearing a flaming orange tunic over the orange pants. Literally, flames. And, and still, I didn't get shot.
I start the morning service. I lead Pesukei d’Zimra, because it's at the beginning of the service and hardly anybody is there. And you just start off the service and warm people up. And it's a pleasure to lead that part of the service.
And we got to the point in the service where Rabbi Myers comes up and leads the study moment of the morning. And then we can say Kaddish d'Rabbanan, which is the Kaddish of the scholars.
So everyone was standing. And that's when the shooter shot the first shots. Somewhere down the hall from us, we heard this crash.
A half a sentence later in the Kaddish, we heard gunfire down the hall. And I took off up the steps on the bima, there's a doorway. Rabbi Myers stopped and told everyone to get down and then followed.
Joe and I went and hid separate from the rabbi. And we found a room. After we closed the door to the room, we covered ourselves over with our prayer shawls to look like part of the bags of donated clothing that were around the room.
But we could hear the sirens. We knew the police had come. Once the shooting stopped and once the sirens let up, we decided that we could leave the room.
We went out the door and left the building. We met police coming in and they whisked us out, and a nice policeman put us in his car and turned the heat way up to keep us warm.
And as we were sitting in the police car—waiting—we saw flanks of soldiers, the first responders with their army gear trooping down the street toward the danger, which was an awesome sight.
And then we were whisked right away to be interviewed by the FBI. And we went across to the JCC where everyone was gathering. And somebody fed us, and somebody took care of us people. There were whole bunches of therapists there. They all said, “Come now, come now, come now.” And they all showed up just to give care. It was, it was astonishing.
It was an awful thing being in the JCC with the family members who were waiting to hear. That was horrible.
People were crying. People were trying to figure out what they should do. People were coming to accept that they may have lost their parents. People were worried about their family members who they knew would have been out front and apparent targets. And there was nothing we could say. There was nothing any of us could say to help. It was just the product of horror, and it was awful.
Until I saw Tim Stevens, who is the head of the Black Political Empowerment Project. That's when I knew that everyone was going to understand that this was a hate crime. And that's when everything just fell into place. He has been beside us. And in fact, that's representative of the whole community. People came from everywhere to stand with us.
We buried seven people in five days, and that's just from Tree of Life. And Rabbi Myers standing in the cold, singing, with tears streaming down his face all those times. It's incredible.
When you look at the faces of people who have lost somebody because of that kind of hatred—if only you could freeze that mold and show it to people. Maybe they would start to understand.
You know, it makes you want to stand up and say, “We don’t just be Jews in our life, and that's something that you should wipe out. We're people. We have lives. We affect other people. We do things in the world. We do things in society. We, we have feelings, you know. We buy your products at your store. We cook food, and we do other things that other people do. We're not just a Jew. We're a person.
The week following the Shabbat service with all the congregations together that happened at Beth Shalom. I asked, “Could I lead Pesukei d’Zimra again?” And they let me do that.
And to see that room full—there were 1300 people in that room, praying all together was— well, it was marvelous. I almost didn't make it through Kaddish d’Rabbanan, but once I did, every time since then I lead Kaddish d'Rabbanan, I have the memory, and then I get through the prayer. And every time we finish, it's another small accomplishment against the hatred.
People have talked about the place would trigger them or the date would trigger them or things like that. This prayer is the thing that reminds me of it. But it's not necessarily a bad reminder. It's a negative, but it's not a bad thing to go through, because each time I get through it, it’s one step close to conquering.
But the prayer itself doesn't say, even when you're in mourning. Doesn't say anything about dead people. It's a prayer of praising God. It's telling God that we understand that He's a wonderful being, and He shared what He has with us and we're grateful. It's a heck of a thing to have a shooting happen in the middle of.
Becker: Is there anything else you’d like to say about the events after the shooting?
Glickman: People said all the right things. People of all faiths have come together.
I mean we already knew each other. It wasn’t like this introduced us. We knew each other already and had dialogue going on already. And that they stood up for us. I absolutely would stand up for them as well. And I can’t imagine that everyone else wouldn’t do the same, because we’re people, but we’re also members of the same community.
I also got to do an interfaith prayer service the next January which was again Tim Stevens of the Black Political Empowerment Project put together an interfaith service.
That was a wonderful experience. There were people there talking about all kinds of gun violence and all kinds of responses to it and all kinds of ways to prevent it. There were people of some faith traditions who felt that people needed to go inside themselves more and understand their own feelings to avoid this kind of violence. There was a police officer there who talked about how they're trying to get ahead of shootings more. Now they're working on that. I got to meet women who have lost children to street violence. And I don’t know how they go on, but they do. They go on, and they fight against the violence, the same.
Becker: Where did you seek comfort and healing from the trauma?
So, what did I do? I did the same thing I always did. I kept myself way too busy for my own good and dealt with it. That’s what I do.
But I wrote a book called, “Pockets: The Problem with Society is in Women's Clothing.” And it's a lighthearted but serious look at why all of society is suffering due to the lack of pockets in women's clothing. The people with bigger pockets obviously control things. I go into it all—you'd have to read it, I guess.
But, it became obvious to me that this book that I had been writing for four years or more, I had to do something with it. Because the book was about pockets, and because I didn't have pockets for my phone and keys, all of my things were in my purse instead of being in my pockets. Everything got left in the synagogue for days, and I couldn't contact people I knew, couldn't even contact my own children. When I got my phone back, I had hundreds of messages from people who thought I had died.
I had to finish the book, because I needed to say what was in the last chapter, I didn't have an ending before that. I didn't know where to end the book. And there it was, in my face, the ending to the book. So, I finished it, and I got it published. By the way, I carry phone numbers now in my pocket wherever I go, and I try not to wear things without pockets ever.
Becker: How did the shooting impact your life in other ways?
Glickman: I think I have had a defensive reaction that I will not let the shooter take any more than he's already taken, and it will not affect my life. I don't want it to take away our synagogue. I don't want it to take away the people who are suffering now, because this is more damage that we're letting him get away with. And he's already done his damage.
And so, I refuse to suffer. I'm not a suffering kind of a person. I refuse to let it affect me any more than it already has, because that would be the shooter winning.
Becker: Has the shooting affected your understanding of antisemitism?
Glickman: No, it's the same. I was not surprised by the attack. I was not aghast that there would be an attack like that. It didn't surprise me at all. As soon as I heard the gunfire, I knew what it was, because we were in a synagogue. I understand some people were painfully stricken that it would happen here. But it didn’t surprise me in the least. I wish I would have known how to stop it before it happened, but no, it doesn't surprise me.
Becker: What have you learned that you would like to share with future generations?
Glickman: Don't hate people. Don't blame people for the way the world is. Don't let other people blame people. But on the other hand, don't expect that you're living in a heavenly world where nobody is going to hate you, because they well might.
Jewish people, in particular, have been given this opportunity. We were handed a set of rules to live by. We're supposed to tend the earth, and we're supposed to care for our neighbors, and we are supposed to respect our parents. And all these things that we're supposed to do. There are certainly enough of them.
If we remembered to do these things and really push forward with the things that connect us with the other people who share the planet with us and other creatures as well, which we're also tasked to tend to. And right now, we're not doing a good job of any of that at all.
Then maybe we would realize the promise that we can make the world a better place. And I guess I've focused more on that since the shooting.
Rabbi Weiss at B'nai Emunah used to teach us that we never have a set way that we believe in things. You never are certain what you believe. You should reinterpret how you feel and how you believe every minute of every day. Dogma is not us. We always question, and we always look forward, and we always look further, deeper, into whatever it is. We should continue to do that.
October 27th is written and hosted by Aliza Becker and Noah Schoen, and it’s produced and edited by Carly Rubin. We get administrative support from Tina Stanton Gonzalez of the Hannah Arendt Center at Bard College. Our music is from Blue Dot Sessions and our closing theme is Tree of Life by Nefesh Mountain. If you want to support our work and the creation of more episodes like this one, you can make a donation at October27podcast.org where you’ll also find episode transcripts, a link to this full unedited interview, and more. That’s October27podcast.org. And lastly, thank you to all of the amazing Pittsburghers who shared their stories for the Meanings of October 27th Oral History Project. We’re so grateful for your trust and your generosity.