A rich clear voice, the ability to improvise, and rare coloratura, are just some of the musical talents that the “King of the Chazanim” possessed.  Kindheartedness, a sharp mind and an emotional soul were part of his regal personality.   Yossele Rosenblatt was born for the “amud,” and that’s where he stayed his entire life, forfeiting tempting monetary offers which would have meant compromising his Torah values.

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aby Yossele lay in his bassinet crying heartily.

“He’ll be a great chazan yet,” said one of the visitors to the Rosenblatt home in an oft-repeated cliché. But in this case the prediction came true.  Yossele did indeed become a great chazan, or more accurately, the greatest chazan of all time.

Most famous chazanim start out as choirboys accompanying some prominent cantor, learning the ropes of the profession by observing the mentor.  Not so Yossele Rosenblatt.  He never trained to be a chazan; he was born one.  Even before he learned to identify the letters of the alphabet, little Yossele was already able to repeat all the tefillos that he heard from his father, R’ Shalom Refael, a chazan in his own right,.  Not only that, but he would embellish the songs, adding his own personal touch.

Yossele Rosenblatt spent his early years in Biala Cherkov. His family background and childhood environment made it only natural for a boy possessing such an extraordinary voice to grow up to be a chazan.  Being that other members of his family were chazanim, music and melody were an integral part of his life.  His mother’s brother, Gedalya, was a chazan in the court of the Stefaneshter rebbe ztz”l.  The rebbe would say, “the tone of Dovid [Hamelech’s] harp has found its way into Gedalya’s throat.”  Another uncle, Todros, davened from the amud until the end of his life, (he lived to be ninety-eight),  his voice never losing its  clarity and vitality.  Yossele’s father was a chazan as well. Thus from the earliest age, he absorbed the melodies his father would hum while poring over his Gemara, and  listened in when he practiced or when the choir would come rehearse in their home.  Yossele’s favorite childhood game was “chazan and choir.”  A bench draped with his mother’s apron served as the “amud,” a sheet became his tallis, and his classmates were the choirboys.

Born for the “Amud”

Yossele’s first “performance” happened by chance during a family simcha when he was only four years old.  He was playing with his young cousins when his father summoned him to sing “Hashkiveinu.”

“When I finished singing,” Yossele later recounted, “there was absolute silence that seemed to last interminably.  Suddenly people fell on me from all sides, hugging and kissing me.”

It didn’t take long for him to become his father’s assistant in the choir.  The kloiz where they davened in Yossele’s hometown of Biala Cherkov was small.  But when word about Chazan Shalom Refael’s wunderkind got around, the number of attendees doubled and even tripled.  People would often have to stand outside in the courtyard and listen through the windows.

Requests to host the “Little Chazan” for Shabbos began to pour in from communities in the vicinity.  At an age when most children were playing “horse and buggy,” Yossele was busy traveling throughout the Ukraine.

In those days chazanus was the only musical entertainment accepted among Jews. Yossele’s popularity, however, exceeded all bounds. His first public appearance took place in Chernowitz, and was so successful that it took sixteen policemen, eight firefighters, and two inspectors to control the crowds that swarmed outside the building for the second performance.  The reaction to eight-year-old Yossele in Chernowitz was similar in intensity.    Soon after, professionals began to express interest in the young child.One of theseexperts was Dan Fuchs, a successful opera singer.  Fuchs attempted to persuade R’ Refael to send his exceptionally gifted son to Vienna, where he could train for a career in opera.  The suggestion was forcefully rejected.  “Enough Jews have abandoned the Torah to live among the gentiles,” the father responded. “I will not contribute to their ranks.”  Yossele’s father also adamantly opposed the proposition of Dr. Bloch, a member of the Austrian parliament, to arrange a meeting between the eleven-year-old boy with His Highness Kaiser Franz Josef.  Dr. Bloch hoped the Kaiser would urge the boy to enter the State Conservatory.  “Under no circumstances will I allow my son to attend the conservatory,” R’ Shalom Refael declared.  “He was born for the ‘amud’ and that’s where he’ll stay.”

Although Yossele’s father cultivated his son’s musical gifts, he never neglected his service of Hashem.  In light of the need to support his family, the father and his two sons, Yossele and Levi Yitzchak, would travel often, which prevented them from attending cheder in an organized manner.  The father hired a private tutor to accompany them on their travels, and every spare moment was spent studying Torah.  Indeed, R’ Shaul Baruch, the rav of Magendorch, asserted that in contrast to other wunderkinds Yossele was completely loyal to his observance of Torah and mitzvos.

“I Won’t Join the Opera”

Yossele possessed not only genius and talent, but also a rare personality.  He served Hashem with his whole heart and soul, and was an erudite talmid chacham.  Sadly, many chazanim did not withstand the temptations of their profession, and when faced with the choice of advancing their career or strictly adhering to mitzvos, they opted for the money and fame.  Not so Yossele.  Throughout the years he staunchly clung to his faith, never deviating from anything he had learned in his father’s house.  Many challenges were placed before him, yet he prevailed.

While serving as the head chazan in Hamburg, one of the wealthy female congregants approached him with a proffered hand.  He declined it, angering many people who viewed this as a lack of manners.  But the community quickly realized that Yossele was not one to yield on his principles and reluctantly accepted their chazan’s way of life.

Yossele’s fear of Heaven and commitment to religious principles faced the ultimate test when he received a most tempting proposition, both professionally and financially, to join the famous Grand Opera in Chicago.  During a concert tour benefiting World War One refugees, opera director Cleo Ponte Campanini came to listen to Yossele sing.  Campanini immediately requested  to be introduced to the short singer with the powerful voice, and offered him a position inthe opera.  The offer was a singer’s dream come true: a lead role (despite his lack of professional training), a huge salary, and fame.  But Yossele’s father’s words of a quarter of a century earlier – “he was born for the ‘amud’ and there he will stay” – echoed in his mind.  Yossele Rosenblatt refused Campanini’s offer.  He could not imagine how he, who prayed before the King of Kings, could appear in the opera, with its low moral standards.  Campanini did not give up easily.  He sent letters to anyone whom he felt could influence Yossele to change his mind, and even offered him $1000 for each performance.  Yet Yossele stood firm in his refusal.

The secular media worldwide carried the story at length and commended Yossele’s tremendous spirit, praising the man who was not willing to forego his religion for fame and fortune.

After his marriage at age eighteen, Yossele received his first position as a cantor in a shul.  First he asked R’ Dovid Moshe of Chortkov ztz”l to appoint him as chazan in his private beis medrash.  The rebbe refused his request, and instructed him to find a position in a large Jewish community.  “Hashem blessed you with a magnificent gift,” he told him, “and you must use that gift to inspire the souls of Am Yisrael to serve Hashem.”  With the rebbe’s help Yossele was appointed as chazan in Munkacz, in Carpathian Russia.  A few months later he moved to Pressburg, again assisted by the Chortkover rebbe.  When the Munkaczer community tried to thwart his departure, the rebbe sent letters to the community leaders and among other things wrote: “He is destined to return the souls of Am Yisrael to their Father in Heaven through the beauty of his tefillos.”

His next stop was Hamburg, the second largest city in Germany, where he was voted in by a large majority of the awestruck shul members .  The “Hamburger Fremdblatt” newspaper reported: “He has a tenor voice that is not found anywhere, and a unique performance, which puts him in line as one of the leading artists.”

Firm in His Faith

Once recordings came into existence, Yossele Rosenblatt’s voice began to echo through thousands of Jewish homes and his reputation spread overseas.  Gramophone recordings now brought his wonder voice to America, and to the attention of the board members of the Ohev Tzedek shul in New York, comprised of Hungarian immigrants.  When their chazan resigned, the position was offered to Yossele.  At his first appearance in the shul, he managed to capture the souls of the huge crowd with the beauty of his voice, and with the warmth and sincerity of his tefillos.  They saw Yossele as  a shaliach tzibbur who was worthy of presenting their prayers before their Father in Heaven.

In America Yossele’s determination not to deviate from his religious principles and chareidi lifestyle was tested much more  than it had been before.

How did Rosenblatt manage to keep Torah and mitzvos in a society that was so hostile to his principles?  How did he stand firm in a place where the shul president could be found smoking on Shabbos?  It was likely due to his deep love for every human being, especially Jews. That love helped  him focus on the good in people instead of their shortcomings.

Once when finishing rehearsals in the home of the choirmaster, he instinctively lifted his hand to kiss the mezuza as he exited, but found the doorpost bare.  The next morning the choirmaster awoke to the sounds of a pounding hammer.  To his surprise, he found Yossele affixing a mezuza to his doorpost.

One Friday night Yossele noticed an old Jewish woman selling confections near the shul.  He was very disturbed at the chillul Shabbos, and made a “deal” with the candy seller: she would keep Shabbos and he would pay her the money she would have earned.  From that Shabbos on, for many years thereafter, Rosenblatt bought that woman’s Shabbos observance in exchange for three one-dollar bills.

The board of Ohev Tzedek in Harlem, New York, had made a very wise decision.  Every time Yossele was scheduled to daven, the shul was packed to the capacity.  Sometimes, like the first night of Selichos, they had no choice but to sell entrance tickets.  People would travel great distances to hear Rosenblatt’s Selichos, and the head shamash, Mr. Schwartz, was often forced to use his experience as a former police officer to deal with people who tried to fight their way in.

When Yossele was about thirty years old, the non-Jewish American world began to express interest in Jewish chazanim.  Various newspapers, such as the Baltimore Sun, sent their music critics to Yossele’s performances, and they in turn praised him to no end.  One of them wrote: “Only rarely does one have the opportunity to hear such pure, beautiful singing.”  On Lag B’Omer 5676/1916, a concert took place in the Warsaw Shul in New York.  More than 3,000 people crammed into the hall, almost stampeding the bima.  Thousands  returned home without seeing anything, and the mob that converged on the building became so wild that an entire squadron of police officers had to be called in to restore order.

Volunteering his Voice

Rosenblatt’s colossal success did not go to his head, nor did it make him boastful or proud.  His table was always surrounded with guests, even when he barely had enough to feed his own large family.  His golden rule was that anyone who stretched out his hand would receive something.  He didn’t forget his family across the ocean either; any letter informing him about an upcoming wedding of a niece or nephew would galvanize him to solicit funds for the new couple.

Yossele’s benevolence extended to complete strangers as well.  He once met two young lads traveling on the train and began to converse with them. Yossele soon discovered that the pair could not return home to their parents during vacation from yeshiva. Yossele immediately understood that they had no money for the train fare, and purchased twotickets on the spot.

His generosity hit a peak during World War I, when he agreed to do a concert tour across the United States to benefit the Central Relief Agency, which aided European Jews affected by the war.

At first Rosenblatt expressed doubt at his ability to fill up the huge Hippodrome auditorium in New York.  In fact, a number of days before the concert there was already not a single ticket to be had. More than 6,000 people came to hear Yossele.  The success of the Hippodrome appearance far surpassed expectations, raising some $240,000.

That concert triggered a marathon of appearances across America, with most of the earnings going to benefit European Jewry.  Philadelphia, Scranton, Buffalo, New York, Georgia, Milwaukee, Kansas City, Chicago and Montreal were just some of the cities where he performed.    Even bad weather did not deter audiences, and he always had a full house.  Yossele’s own share in the royalties of his recording “Keli Keli,”  was also donated to war victims.  After the war Yossele performed for ten thousand Jewish refugees in Madison Square Garden. When he sang “Kel Malei Rachamim” and reached the words: “the souls of our holy brothers who were murdered, slaughtered and killed” the assemblage burst into heart-rending sobs.

Inviting Yossele to appear at charity functions became standard procedure.  Whether it was the opening of an orphanage, or an evening to benefit the needy – everyone knew that Yossele would fill the hall and agree to donate his services free of charge or for a minimal fee.  In an appearance for the inmates of the Sing Sing prison, he sang “Habet Mishamayim U’Re’eh”; even the most hard-hearted prisoners could not stem their tears.

Yossele stood by his word and his principles, even when he stood to suffer as a result. At times he was up to his ears in debt, but would not give up the benefit appearances.  He once forgot that he had committed himself to perform for an institution in the Bronx, and scheduled something for the same day in Philadelphia.  To cancel the latter was impossible; the organizers refused to release him from his commitment.  Yossele asked them to move up the time, and they agreed.  Being that there was no airline service between Philadelphia and New York, and the train schedule did not ensure his arrival on time, he rented an entire train and paid the equivalent of  125 train fares.

Talent with Soul

What made Yossele Rosenblatt into the ‘King of Chazanim’?  What made him so unforgettable that chazanus aficionados still admire him so, despite the many years since his passing?  Was his power only in his  vocal chords, of which Professor Tchovitzky said, “a treasure of a million gold coins lies in his throat”?  No.  It was a remarkable combination of his multiple talents and his rare soul.

Yossele had a flair for improvisation.  Without any advance preparation he could match up a tune to words or swiftly swing from one nusach to another. His superb expertise allowed him to interlace traditional melodies with joyous chassidic tunes, livening them up.

One youth newspaper in Vienna wrote: “It is not hard for us to imagine him moving a large crowd of congregants to tears during the High Holiday services.  He knows everything there was to know about chazanus, in addition to many things that cannot be attained through professional training and studies, because his is a Heaven-granted gift, from birth.”

At age fifteen he began composing, and tunes came to him spontaneously. When this happened he would hunt for a pencil stub and piece of paper to jot down the notes.  He always went to sleep with paper and pencil beside his bed, so if a new idea would pop into his mind in the middle of the night he would be able to write it down immediately.    When he would sing it later on, no one could believe this was the product of some chicken scratch on a scrap of paper.

Yossele composed more than 500 compositions designed for chazanim and accompanying choirs, many of which became the basics for every chazan’s repertoire.  At age twenty he had already published his book “Shirei Yosef,” with a compilation of 150 recitatives (a declamation as part of a musical composition) and choir pieces.  The book was accepted enthusiastically by renowned musicians.  A short while later, when the phonograph was just beginning to become popular, he made his first recordings  in the famous “Edison” studio.

While composing tunes and during rehearsals, Yossele would use a piano voice instead of his real one, developing an exceptional falsetto that gave his songs that special Rosenblatt touch.  Thanks to that falsetto he was able to perform trilling coloratura (elaborate ornamentation in vocal music) that surprised all the music critics and the top singers in the world, among them the famous Italian singer Caruso, who was once a spectator at  one of Yossele’s performances.  When Rosenblatt finished “Keli Keli,” Caruso could not control himself and stood up and kissed him on the forehead.

“As Though I Am One of The Congregants”

His rare talents were not the only cause of his fame.  His tefillos contained far more than superior musical aptitude.  Every tefilla was a holy song, filled with passionate feeling.    Through the power of music, he gave tangible meaning to the tefillos in the siddur.  When he said the words “Elokai neshama shenasata bi tehora hi” his listeners could literally visualize the soul pleading before its Creator.  And when he sang: “Habet mishamayim ure’eh b’oni amcha” everyone present felt the pain and anguish of our nation begging for mercy from our Father in Heaven.  One of his thousands of listeners once said: “When Yossele would trill the words ‘yeled sha’shuim,’ I felt as though I was hearing the voice of a young, pitiful orphan, begging for a slice of bread to revive himself.”  Yossele himself would become emotional from his tefillos, and once revealed: “When I stand beside the ‘amud’ I don’t daven as a chazan.  I daven as if I am one of the congregants in the shul.  I listen to the sound of the tefilla.”

Undoubtedly his passion had a critical effect on his musical creativity, which was especially manifest during World War One, when he wrote some of his most famous recitativesexpressing the pain and pity he felt. In many of his tefillos, such as “Habet Mishamayim Ure’eh”, “Acheinu Kol Beis Yisrael,” and “Shomer Yisrael,” he gave expression to the turbulent emotions most Jewish hearts experienced during those times.  When sung by Rosenblatt, one could sense the genuine significance of the words.

His emotion did not detract from his articulation whatsoever; each word was enunciated clearly, and he never swallowed a syllable.  Besides that, he almost never needed to rehearse.  It was enough for Yossele to read the notes once, no matter how complex, and then immediately perform; his emphasis and interpretation were always perfect.  In this sense he was superior to all other highly trained chazanim, both in Europe and the United States, despite his scant education and training.

If that was not enough, Yossele had the uncommon capacity to “play” with his voice.  He could go down to the lowest bass tones, and then go up to the highest tenor, which enabled him to sing any musical composition, with no exceptions.

His unbelievable ability to improvise is proved by this story:  He once arrived at the recording studio and was asked what he wanted to record.  He couldn’t really answer, being that he had not yet composed the music.  Even so, the studio technician began recording, and Yossele Rosenblatt began to sing (with no advance preparation or notes).   The result was excellent from a musical aspect, but there was a technical problem.  The technician asked Rosenblatt to repeat the segment ,.  How could he repeat a recitative that had been improvised on the spot?  In the end ,the faulty recording was replayed for Yossele, whowrote down notes that allowed him to sing the piece again.

The “Swan Song” was Silent

Yossele may have had a golden voice, but he was very far from Midas  when it came to dealing with money.  It just slipped through his fingers.  Of the million-dollar treasure lying in his throat, not much remained in his hands.  He didn’t keep track of the many bills that would pile up on his desk, and people would take advantage of him, demanding payment for services they had not rendered.  .

At age forty Rosenblatt  was considered one of the ten most famous Jews in America.  His salary as a chazan was the highest ever paid to someone in his profession, and the royalties from his recordings also yielded a small fortune.  .

Interest in Chazan Yossele Rosenblatt surpassed all boundaries.  When he once contracted pneumonia, confining him to bed for a number of weeks, he received thousands of get-well cards and dozens of bouquets.  The newspapers would publish daily reports of his condition, tracking his progress until he recovered.

But being so engrossed in his profession, Rosenblatt fell victim to crooks who took advantage of his innocence, lack of worldly knowledge and inexperience in the business world.  These scoundrels convinced him to join their venture to establish a chareidi weekly publication that would appear in New York in Hebrew, English and Yiddish.

At first Yossele was hesitant to join their “important enterprise” as they called it, claiming that he understood nothing about journalism, but they reassured him that they would attend to everything.  All he had to do was supply the money.  They also demanded utmost secrecy; yet this still did not arouse his suspicions.

The people of “Ohr Yisrael,” as the crooks called themselves, ended up bringing him only heartache.  The victim of a scam,  Rosenblatt’s bank account was overdrawn and his checks began to bounce.

In an attempt to cover his growing debts Yossele went on a concert tour in Europe,.enjoying tremendous success.  Each evening, a long line would form behind the hall or shul where a concert was to take place.  People who had not been able to obtain tickets in advance agreed to pay very high prices, lining the profiteers’ pockets with money.

Yet Yossele’s pockets remained empty.  As a result of a contractual agreement with “Ohr Yisrael,” there was a large mortgage and insurance policy against Yossele’s house.  He did not have any possessions to sell, and his debts grew.  Yossele’s brother, a lawyer, tried to come to an agreement with the creditors, but was unsuccessful.  Yossele Rosenblatt was declared bankrupt.

And then came the offer from Yosef Fuchs, director of the American Israeli film company Kol Ohr.  As the lead role in a film that would be distributed in Israel, all Yossele would need to do was sing some of his famous compositions against the backdrop of scenes in Eretz Yisrael.

Yossele didn’t have too many options. Desperate to free himself from the creditors, he accepted the offer.

He went from city to city, filling every hall where he appeared, while simultaneously filming.

On Sunday 24 Sivan 5693/1933 the funeral of Dr. Chaim Arlozorov, who had been murdered two days earlier, took place.  It should have been very widely attended and photographed.  But  the journalists and photographers were too busy going to Jericho and the Dead Sea to cover the final shoot for the film “Chalom Ami.”

Yossele was standing in a rowboat on the Jordan River, singing Betzeis Yisrael MiMitzrayim when he suddenly  felt ill.  A doctor was summoned and prescribed complete rest in the hotel.  But that complete rest became eternal rest.  Yossele’s heart stopped; he was only fifty-one years old.  The next day he was laid to rest on Har Hazeisim.

The Swan Song was silent.

Epilogue: 

Many years after Yossele Rosenblatt’s passing, a renowned chazan published an advertisement calling himself the Third Yossele Rosenblatt.

“Why the third?” people asked him.

“Simple,” the chazan replied. “Because there never was and never will be a second to him.”

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Special thanks to Yehuda Frank and Chazan Chaim Eliezer Hershtik for their assistance in preparing this article.  Rosenblatt’s son, R’ Shmuel, also provided us with many personal memories.

Originally featured in Mishpacha Issue 25