09/30/2026
The saga of the Mikvah, part 1, by Ruth Gruber.
After a month back in Washington, I was asked by Ickes (Sec. Interior) to return to the camp. He wanted a progress report, and I welcomed the assignment.
Minutes after I entered the camp gate, I was simultaneously hugged and kissed and assaulted with complaints. Rabbi Tzechoval's wife, Mindla, pulled me to the side as we walked toward my office in the jail. "Dear beloved Miss Ruth," she said in Yiddish,"it is terrible for the women."
"What is terrible?" I asked the 30-year-old rebbetzin, a peppery little woman who wore a flowered scarf over her head. As an orthodox wife, she had shaved her head on her wedding day to make her unattractive to any man except her husband. On holidays and Shabbat she wore a brunette wig. "What is terrible? She repeated my question indignantly. "The women can't sleep with their husbands."
"Why can't they?" She stared at me with consternation. "Because we have no mikvah." This was the ritual pool in which wives cleansed and purified themselves before they had s*x with their husbands.
"What did you do for a mikvah when you were running." I asked. I waved my hand toward Lake Ontario. "You have a lake right here." "This lake"- her voice was shrill---"this lake is freezing. We would freeze to death."
I tried to be sympathetic. I tried to be sympathetic. I knew how important the mikvah was to orthodox Jewish women. But the rebbetzin would have to understand. "I can go to the government of the United States," I told her, "and explain why we should have black bread, and why we need additional funds for winter cloths. But how can I go to the government and ask for a Mikvah?"
She looked at me slyly. "Because we'll get sick if we don't sleep with our husbands. And they'll get sick too. I won't give up. I'll get my mikvah."
In HAVEN, by Ruth Gruber. 1983.
Photo: worn stone threshold of the Safe Haven Holocaust Refugee Shelter Museum on which Ruth Gruber stepped while entering the building containing her office in the basement from 1944 to 1946. Opened in 1906 as the Post Guardhouse, thousands of soldiers, refugees, little league officials, museum patrons, and others have left their mark on the building's threshold.