Jay Gass

Every household has its sadness. In Max and Adele’s case tragedy came early when Jay, their youngest child was stricken with leukemia. Jay was spiritual, giving, and bright. He liked the Yeshiva (a Jewish day school that provided both secular and religious instruction) so his parents sent him there instead of to public school. According to Adele:
 

“Jay was studious even as young as he was. When the rabbi would say, Go out and play, Jay would reply, Rabbi I have no time. Jay was very spiritual and very giving. He always talked with G-d. Before he became ill, he would say his nighttime prayers, look up in the sky, and murmur, I wonder what death is.  I had premonitions with Jay. It used to scare me the way he talked. He always spouted wisdom that was way beyond his age.

“One day, Jay stepped on a piece of broken glass in the bathroom and we couldn't stop the bleeding quickly. When the wound didn't heal we took him to the doctor. The doctor tested Jay's blood and made the diagnosis of leukemia.

“Jay went into the Children's Hospital for three weeks after his initial diagnosis. I paid for a private room because I stayed overnight with Jay. Everyday he gave me a list of gifts to buy for the kids in the leukemia ward. I would buy the gifts and then take him into the ward so he could give the gifts away. He was in the hospital off and on for transfusions. These stays lasted three or four days at a time. He would say to me, I'm tired I think I need a transfusion. He lived just seven months.

“My brother, Rabbi Samuel Korff, was the Jewish chaplain of the Boston Fire De­partment. He would bring Jay home from the hospital in his official car and let Jay press the siren.

“I made a mistake—I tried to shield both Paul and Janet from Jay's illness. When I knew Jay was dying I sent them to my sister in Connecticut. I regret this very much. They came back after shiva and Janet said, I'll never forgive you for not letting us be with him.” 

Paul remembers this sad time, too:

“The only time my father ever raised his hand and let me really have it was one day when I was fighting with Janet. Janet and I usually didn't fight much but perhaps we were responding to the tension in the house. My father chased me into the garage, hitting me. That's when I knew Jay was dying because my father said, How can you be like this when your brother is dying? Cherish your sister!

“I stopped fighting with Janet but I didn't really grasp the meaning of what my father had told me. It was only after Janet and I were sent away to our aunt that I really understood that Jay was dying. I can remember Janet and me crying and feeling like we should be doing something.

“The terrible time came afterward when we stopped doing things together as a family. When Jay was alive we had gone on lots of family excursions. We visited Franklin Field, Franklin Park, places like that. I remember visiting Pioneer Village and my brother stepped on a hot coal or maybe I stepped on it. We always did things as a family, sometimes just the five of us, or sometimes with the extended family, too. We visited my mother's family in Dorchester and my father's family at 27 County Road. It was always family. After Jay died, all the outings stopped. The magic just left. My father started having nightmares. He kept Jay's toys by his bed and near his desk. We maintained the routine of seeing relatives but 27 County Road was never the same after Jay's and my grandmother Lena's deaths.”

Jay died in 1950. Max would have liked to have more children but Adele became quite ill after Jay's death and the doctor advised against another pregnancy. 

     
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