Since I picked up the sad message from my voicemail last night, so many images have flashed through my mind. The message was short – Clara Hammer, known, no doubt, by thousands of schoolchildren here in America as the Chicken Lady, has died, just weeks shy of what would have been her 100th birthday.
Clara was a legend. Her tzedakah story was shared in classrooms, news articles, pulpits…just about every possible venue you could imagine….And what a story it was. Many years ago, while visiting her butcher, Mr. Hacker, Clara witnessed him handing over a bag of chicken bones and skin to a young girl. Commenting to him that the girl must own many cats, the butcher replied that the bag’s contents were actually for the family to use to prepare a Shabbat cholent. He went on to explain that the father and mother were not well and had not worked in a very long time. Though he had extended credit to them, he could no longer do so. Clara was appalled that anyone would have to eat such garbage and instructed Mr. Hacker to give the girl two chickens and a half kilo of chopped meat weekly so that they could have a proper Shabbat. No one was to know the identity of the donor.
What began with that one selfless act in 1969, continued (albeit with the help of her family in the past few years) until her death yesterday. When I last visited Clara about 13 months ago, it was clear that the fire and passion that had once prevailed was diminishing. The scene was the same – an apartment where pictures of dozens of family members (I’ve lost count of how many grandchildren, great-grandchildren and I think even one or two great-great grandchildren, she had) vied for space with the many, many chickens – stuffed, musical, dancing, given to her by admirers from all over the world. They, in turn, shared space with the many beautiful certificates and awards Clara earned from her mitzvah work. Clara’s advanced "computerized" records still sat nearby – file boxes filled with index cards, each listing donors’ names, addresses and every one of their donations. A donation to Clara’s Chicken Fund got you a beautifully handwritten thank you letter – even with no professional fund-raising training, Clara knew how to get you back for "recurring donations." On the table were that week’s bills from the famous butcher, Mr. Hacker, and we heard a recounting of the thousands of shekels she had sent him for the past month’s food he handed out on her behalf. Still the proper hostess, we were treated to freshly-squeezed orange juice (from Clara’s local "juiceman"), delicious roasted Israeli almonds and a plate of Bisli. But advancing years were taking their toll and no longer was Clara singing or dancing as she always did, and that was not lost on me as I said good-bye, perhaps for the last time.
And so – this Friday morning as many are preparing for Shabbat, I envision a beautiful woman, now in some other space perhaps, continuing her work and fulfilling her vision that no one should go without a proper Shabbat meal. Rest in peace, Clara. You have left a legacy that has touched more people than we will ever know.
