News Brief

Although Jews admittedly have risen to a place of high importance in the Japanese empire, the charges of anti-Semites that the nation’s destinies are under the complete secret control of the Manchukuo Jewish Farm Trust are manifestly scurrilous lies, Baron Moshe Yosho Finkelbergyoto told a representative of the Jewish Daily Bulletin today.

“With a new tide of anti-Semitism threatening to engulf the world,” the slant-eyed, olive-skinned head of the Jewish farm clique said, “the Jews of every nation must present a united front.”

Squatted comfortably on the floor of his palatial home while he sipped a cup of tea, Baron Finkelbergyoto discussed the status of world Jewry and its probable future.

The single clashing note in the interview crept in when the Bulletin representative thoughtlessly requested a slice of lemon for his tea.

The Baron drew himself up stiffly. Then he relaxed and smiled at the reporter.

“Really,” he said with gentle sarcasm, “this is Manchukuo, you know—not Biro-Bidjan.”

This somewhat unfortunate slip served, however, to bring up a subject which the interviewer wanted to hear discussed.

“How about Biro-Bidjan?” he asked the Baron. “What is the relationship between the Jews of Manchukuo and of Biro-Bidjan?”

Finkelbergyoto considered this question carefully before he answered it.

“I speak, of course,” he pointed out, “as a Japanese rather than as a Jew. May I make it clear, incidentally, in my opinion, that Judaism is a religion, and therefore strictly a personal matter, and that we Japanese pay allegiance to our mother country without regard to creed?

“The Jews of Biro-Bidjan, on the other hand, are subjects of the Union of Socialistic Soviet Republics, and there have been many inevitable attempts to stir up rivalry between the two peoples on the basis of clashing nationalistic aims.

“I sincerely believe, however, that our mutual interests are stronger than our differences, and that after a few unimportant disagreements have been settled we’ll be able to live side by side in harmony and cooperation.”

He paused for a moment to give emphasis to his last statement.

“The Jews of every nation,” he repeated then, “must present a united front. Of course, we Japanese,” he amended, “must be loyal to our mother country above all else.”

As the Bulletin reporter was being ushered out, he noticed that in each doorway of the Baron’s home was implanted a peculiar little tuft of hair, somewhat like an old-fashioned toothbrush, on which Finkelbergyoto took great care, before he proceeded into the next room, to scuff first one foot and then the other.

The reporter’s curiosity was aroused.

“What,” he asked the Baron, “is that little ritual you go through between each room?”

The great Japanese Jew smiled.

“In the mythology of our people, who you may recall originally came from Germany,” he said, “there is a legend that there was a certain monstrous persecutor of the Jews—one Adolf Hitler.

“Although his reign was apparently too short-lived to be included in the textbooks, we have historical evidence that he actually did exist.

“This little tuft of hair which we place in each of our doorways, to be stepped upon and otherwise heaped with humiliation, is a symbolic representation of a low-comedy adornment which he wore on his upper lip.”

He took the reporter by the arm and led him into a large, high-ceilinged room off the exit foyer. The room was obviously a museum. In its center was a glass showcase, under which reposed a tiny, ludicrous object, which in appearance closely resembled the hirsute symbols in each of the doorways.

“That,” said Baron Finkelbergyoto impressively, “is the actual Hitler mustache. It was torn from his lip by one of my ancestors and has been handed down in our family from generation to generation.”

A. J. B.