Mrs. Ruchel Berko, mother of arranger, producer, and musician Avrumi Berko and vocalist Shea Berko, says she always knew that Avrumi had a beautiful voice, while Shea, a sought-after wedding singer and soloist today, didn’t sing as a boy. “Shea stood up to sing publicly for the first time at his own sheva brachos,” she says.

Wedding singer Yisroel (Sruly) Werdyger is grandson of chazzan Dovid Werdyger, son of Mendy Werdyger, nephew of Mordechai Ben David, and a first cousin of Yeedel. His parents were aware that he had inherited the family gift, but Dvora Werdyger says it wasn’t in the foreground of his upbringing in any way. The Werdygers did nothing to encourage or develop it — no voice lessons and no seeking opportunities to perform. “His learning and other responsibilities were more important to us,” she explains.

Nurturing a Singer

“Simcha always loved to sing,” his mother says.

The Leiner house was a musical one, and Simcha learned to play the flute at a young age, taking high-level lessons, which included learning how to read music by sight. “It was only when he was ten years old that we decided to send him for professional singing lessons. We realized that he had serious talent, so we decided to invest in it. We contacted the late Cantor Sherwood Goffin from the Lincoln Square Synagogue in Manhattan — a remarkable man who wasn’t only a teacher to Simcha but also a rav and mentor, and we took him to lessons once a week for several months. It wasn’t just vocal training. He learned different melodies for tefillos, grammar, peirush hamilim, and more. At 12 years old, he was the youngest student in Belz School of Music at Yeshiva University.”

“Looking back,” says Chavi, “his professional music education was a successful investment, far more valuable than we could have imagined at the time.”

And while it was important to the Leiner parents that Simcha develop his musical talent, they didn’t want his talent to go to his head or force him to mature beyond his years. For that reason, they didn’t allow him to sing in public, except at family celebrations. “There were only two occasions when he ‘performed’ as a child — and one of them was at his bar mitzvah when he was chazzan for Shacharis in front of five hundred people,” says his mother Chavi.

“Neginah loomed very large in my and my husband’s families,” says Mrs. Polatseck say. “Our grandparents on both sides, who were around to watch him grow up, couldn’t get enough of Yoily singing.” Yet while he took singing lessons and performed at every family simchah, they wouldn’t allow him to join any choirs, besides the Satmar choir on Yamim Noraim and Chanukah, and were insistent that his cheder and yeshivah learning was paramount.

What about the other side of the performing world — the competitiveness, the possibly fleeting stardom, the potential corruption or disappointments? While it’s widely believed that performing can develop self-confidence, and challenges can increase resilience, being in the public eye is pretty intense for a kid.

Bashy is grateful that when her son was growing up, “The heimishe singing world was still very subdued and serious and he didn’t need that much shielding from publicity. Today’s olam haneginah has deteriorated immensely, and a child has to be shielded a lot more.”

“My boys asked me for drums at age two or three,” Mrs. Berko reminisces. “My response was ‘no way, not in my house.’ So, they took the negel vasser bowls, found sticks, and they drummed and drummed on them, taping the bowls up when they cracked. Well, I was happy they enjoyed it, but I didn’t provide any music or singing lessons. Much later, my son Avrumi taught himself to play keyboard. No lessons, no music school, just on his own.”

Pirchei and boys’ choirs have been around since the 1960s and 1970s, but today, even in more sheltered chassidish communities, every full-scale Jewish fundraiser or dinner features ranks of children singing into the mics with high voices, stylish suits, curled peyos, and impeccable poise.

“My boys sang zemiros and practiced ‘gorgling’ at home, and Avrumi, who had a powerful voice, was occasionally asked to sing at family simchahs. When the menahel of the Viener cheder produced some educational children’s music tapes, he was a soloist and sang “Bereishis, Noach, Lech Lecha…” beautifully. But that was it. There was nothing ongoing to distract them, and baruch Hashem they learned beautifully in cheder, and we celebrated their achievements in learning.”

Dvora Werdyger agrees that the scene was once more innocent. “Singers weren’t so idolized. We didn’t have to be cautious. Today it’s almost like someone who has musical gifts is a hero, although really they’re just normal people with a talent. Singing is a beautiful gift, but to me it’s just like a student who is smart and succeeds in the classroom.”

Sarah Roth walked the tightrope of developing her son’s talent, all the while praying that it would empower him and not harm him. She allowed Avremi to sing here and there, at various events or small gatherings, and remembers that he had a teacher who would take him around to different classrooms in school every Friday, so that Avremi could sing Shabbos songs for the students. When he sang at the Shabbos table, passersby would stop for a few moments to listen near the open windows.

“When Yishai was in second grade, he told me he was often bored in class,” Miriam Lapidot recalls. “To keep himself entertained, he’d place his hands between his mouth and ear and compose tunes for the sayings that decorated the classroom walls, such as ‘divrei chachamim b’nachas nishma’im.’ Honestly, I wasn’t thrilled about it. Why compose songs instead of listening to the teacher?”

“One day, Yishai came home and announced that he’d recorded a song in a studio. It turned out he had gone to a studio on his own and spent a significant amount of money to record the song ‘Ima.’ It was an incredible piece that moved me deeply and made me realize, for the first time, that maybe the hobby that made him a little lost in the classroom could become something.”

Carol Razel accompanied her children to their concerts and recitals physically, so that she was always present during these moments. “It all seemed to be healthy and safe to me, and they were never left alone, as I was always there. Look, I wouldn’t push any child to enter the music world, even if they have the gifts. But if your child wants to, I’d say, let him go.”

She didn’t worry about her kids focusing on music to the detriment of other areas of development. “When they saw a piano, they sat down to play, but I felt their approach was very balanced. They spent time studying, and time socializing with friends, who were mainly similar to them. When they were teens, it didn’t feel like music was the only thing in their lives.”

Into the Big, Wide World

It’s a long and slow process for a performer to build a following, and there will be dry periods and periods of intense pressure. Carol Razel is a laid-back parent who didn’t have a strong emotional reaction when she found out that all her children were exceptionally musical. “My husband ensured they all got a musical education. I let them do what they like. I would honestly never have thought of raising children to be musicians, but if they wanted that, it was fine with me. And even had I wanted something else for my children, I don’t think I would have had a choice,” she says.

It’s a while since the Razel children were teenagers, so Carol admits she may have forgotten some of the issues and angst that loomed at the time, but looking back, she remembers their development into singers and composers as pretty straightforward.

“At some point, my kids finished with high school, leaving before their classes graduated. They wanted to do their own thing, and we let them. But I did give them some rules for structure: Our expectations were that they would get up in the morning, study, and pass their school exams, because that was important to me. None of them gave us a tough time about that. They all did that, and then the boys went onto music school. My husband has a preference for classical music, while I’m drawn to more modern American music, but our children have chosen their own paths and styles. As adults, I know they have coped with many challenges on their musical journeys, but they have dealt with that independently,” she says.

At 18, Avremi Roth went to cantorial school, where his talent was fully recognized, and started to perform professionally,  performing at weddings and bar mitzvahs, participating in Mona Rosenblum’s albums, and even becoming a regular chazzan in a shul on Shabbos.

As an adult, every musician and performer finds his place on the varied spectrum of the Jewish music world, usually by developing his distinct personal style and following the guidance of his own mentors. “My son didn’t enter the world of professional singing until he was long married and had been in kollel.” says Mrs. Werdyger. “He has a rosh yeshivah to guide him.”

Mrs. Werdyger has no regrets that they didn’t invest in their son’s musical talent when he was younger. “The years of learning are so important. I don’t believe that yeshivah-aged children should be encouraged to perform. Of course, we had music on all the time in the house, and the piano was always available. Our children played music and sang, as our grandchildren do now, but that was at home, not on a public stage. I think that approach is better for the ego and better for the child’s Yiddishkeit and learning.”

Claim to Fame

Once a singer or musician is successful, they often become recognized in the Jewish world through their clips and music videos, which circulate so widely. From Detroit to Kerestir and everywhere in between, their faces and voices will be recognized, especially by the younger generation. Carol’s youngest son, Rav Yehuda Razel, heads a kollel and yeshivah, although he has also been involved in music at some points. This means that all her four children are in the public eye.

“I can’t say it bothers us. It’s nice that people appreciate and comment on the music,” she says. I’ve had people coming over to tell me how much they’ve been encouraged and inspired by my sons’ compositions. What is really funny is when someone talks to me at great length about what she thinks is Yonatan’s song, and in fact, at the end, I realize she means Aharon’s song. To me, they sound very different, but people actually confuse them.”

“I remember once walking down a Jerusalem street right near our home. I passed a shul on my right and heard Yonatan’s voice, leading as the chazzan. Then I passed the next shul a few seconds later, and heard Aharon’s voice raised, leading the prayers. It was a great feeling. Coming from a neighborhood in America that was not intensely Jewish, hearing my sons as chazanim in two shuls in Jerusalem brought me tremendous joy and gratitude,” Carol Razel shares. “But really, what makes me happy more than the music is what they have done with it. All of my children want to be there for other people, to support them and give encouragement and help and inspiration. That is what makes me proud of them, and the music is just the mode.”

“It has baruch Hashem been all pleasure for us,” says Bashy Polatseck.

“In our house we take pride in our children’s musical abilities,” says Mrs. Berko. “If the Eibishter gives you a matunah, you use it to its utmost to enhance every Shabbos seudah, every Yom Tov and just daily davening and living. I told my children that what you have to be is an ehrliche Yid, and you have to give kuved to other people. I made it clear that those were our standards. We’re all simple people, and baruch Hashem the music hasn’t made my sons ‘halt zich grois.’ If I heard from anyone that they weren’t like that, I’d tell them something!”

The Werdygers get a lot of regards from people who’ve enjoyed Sruly’s hartzige singing at weddings. “We’re happy and proud of Sruly’s success, and I get very emotional when I hear him sing,” says Dvora. But she and her husband get more nachas from his beautiful family, the regular shiur he attends, or how he learns with his children. “The talent is a beautiful gift, but it’s not what makes us proud.”

“We went through some very difficult years when we couldn’t understand why Yishai wouldn’t follow the expected path,” says Miriam Lapidot. “He studied at one of the best yeshivos in Bnei Brak, and one day, my husband was urgently called to the yeshivah because they’d found one of Yishai’s compositions, lyrics and all, in his pocket. The hanhalah didn’t approve of it, and he wasn’t allowed back into the dorm for two weeks.”

“Not long ago, I told Yishai, ‘You should know that we went through a lot when you were a teenager. But if I’d had known then what you would become, my pillow at night would have looked very different.”

“Yishai’s response was so typical of him: ‘Maybe the way I turned out is because your pillow looked the way it did at night?’

“Looking back now, with more experience, I can tell other mothers in similar situations, when your child doesn’t fit into the box you expected him to: Embrace your child and allow them to develop the talent they love, even if it’s not what you originally envisioned. Because there is nothing more wonderful than a child doing what they love and excel at.”

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 935)