Joachim Prinz

Joachim Prinz is presented as both a leading rabbi in Newark and one of the clearest local opponents of Charles A. Lindbergh. His authority, the narrator notes, once surpassed that of the older Lionel Bengelsdorf; when violence elsewhere raises fears for Newark’s Jews, Prinz helps turn alarm into organized civic preparation. The contrast between his public standing and the measures his community must consider gives his brief but consequential role its force.

Identity and Standing

The book’s biographical note identifies Prinz as a rabbi, author, and civil rights activist. It records that he served as rabbi of B'nai Abraham in Newark from 1939 to 1977. In the plot’s account of the city’s Jewish leadership, he is described as its foremost rabbi, with influence extending beyond the local community to Jews more widely and to scholars and theologians of different religions.

That standing is measured against Bengelsdorf’s rise to national prominence. Before that rise, Prinz’s authority among Jews throughout the city and in the wider community had far exceeded his elder colleague’s. The comparison is not simply about rank: it places two religious leaders on different political paths. The narrator singles out Prinz as the only one among the Conservative rabbis leading the city’s three wealthiest congregations who had never wavered in opposition to Lindbergh.

Opposition and Public Absence

Prinz’s opposition is established partly through an absence. He does not attend the wedding of Bengelsdorf and Evelyn Finkel, although other prominent rabbis do: Charles I. Hoffman and Solomon Foster are present, and Foster presides over the ceremony. The narrator says this absence is conspicuous to his parents, even though the newspaper account of the wedding does not mention it. At a gathering filled with civic, religious, and political dignitaries, Prinz’s nonappearance marks a division that the public report leaves unspoken.

The narrative also makes clear why that division matters. Prinz is characterized not as a late or conditional critic, but as a rabbi who had consistently opposed Lindbergh while other leading figures accommodated the new political order. His importance in these passages therefore rests on a combination of institutional authority and a record of opposition. The book does not supply a speech or private explanation from him; instead, it lets the contrast between his standing, his absence from the wedding, and his later organizing establish his position.

Organizing for the Community’s Safety

After anti-Semitic unrest and the Detroit violence, Newark’s Jewish residents begin preparing for serious violence in their own streets. The concern is intensified by the city’s large Jewish population and by the proximity of its neighborhood to working-class communities where bigotry is already present. The narrator describes the danger as not only a possible consequence of a visit by Walter Winchell, but also a risk that could spread from the violence already seen elsewhere.

Almost overnight, Prinz and five other prominent Jewish residents, including Meyer Ellenstein, establish the Newark Committee of Concerned Jewish Citizens. The group quickly becomes a model for similar ad hoc committees in other large cities. Its immediate purpose is practical: to enlist public authorities and make contingency plans for the possibility of attacks. Prinz’s religious leadership is thus joined to a civic role, as he helps organize a response before violence reaches the community’s own streets.

The committee first meets at City Hall with the police chief, fire chief, and director of public safety; the mayor presides. The following day it meets at the State House in Trenton with the governor, the superintendent of the state police, and the commanding officer of the National Guard. David T. Wilentz, the state attorney general and an acquaintance of all six committee members, also attends. A bulletin issued by the committee reports his assurance to Prinz that anyone who assaults Newark’s Jews will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. These meetings show the committee seeking protection through the city and state’s formal institutions, rather than relying on warnings alone.

The committee also approaches Bengelsdorf, telegramming him to request a meeting in Washington. The response is that their concern is local, not federal, and should be taken to city and state officials, whom the committee is already consulting. Bengelsdorf’s supporters meanwhile present his distance from the Winchell controversy as deliberate restraint, describing private efforts to help Jews affected by the unrest. The contrast is telling but limited: the text records both the committee’s request and the reply it receives, without claiming that Prinz himself makes a further public argument against Bengelsdorf.

Community Defense and Narrative Role

The committee’s recourse to public authorities exists alongside a separate preparation for self-defense. Longy Zwillman acts independently, assigning Bullet Apfelbaum to recruit young men for the Provisional Jewish Police in case local and state forces fail to protect the community. The distinction clarifies the committee’s role: Prinz is associated with a coalition of civic leaders pressing officials to plan and act, while another effort prepares a volunteer force. The text does not make Prinz responsible for that separate organization.

Prinz’s character emerges through these public acts and through the narrator’s framing of them, rather than through an extended personal storyline. First he appears as the absent opponent at a politically charged wedding; later, as the prominent rabbi who helps convene a committee and receives a specific assurance from the attorney general. The movement from social omission to organized preparedness gives his opposition practical weight. In a plot where official reassurance, political accommodation, and the possibility of violence coexist, Prinz represents an established religious authority using civic channels to address a danger that his community can no longer treat as distant.