Chabad to Honor Superstar
Tony Orlando
With "Voice of Courage" Award
The summer of 2014 was a traumatic time for Israel and those around the world who feel deeply connected to, and passionately supportive of, the Jewish State.  From worry over the fate of three kidnapped youths, to the realization of their parents’ worst fears; from rockets raining down on Israel’s population centers, to its having to wage war against an enemy willing to use their most vulnerable civilians as human shields; the string of horrors stretched on for months on end.
To heap insult upon injury, the world’s reaction to Hamas’ actions – whether from European leaders to the UN, from Hollywood to the mainstream media – was to blame the victims rather than the perpetrators; to condemn Israel at every turn for doing what any responsible country would, and must, do to protect its people.

Amidst the palls of darkness, however, some radiant and prominent rays of light shone through as well.  One such powerful light came from renowned singer and entertainer, Tony Orlando, who took the time to visit with the families of the kidnapped teenagers.  He also took the opportunity to speak out in denunciation of those who would commit such cruel and vicious acts.

“The only thing to hate – is hate itself,” said Orlando, as he spoke of the dangers of humanity tolerating behaviors that are “uncivilized.”  Invoking the lyrics of his huge international hit, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘Round the Old Oak Tree,” he called upon his fans all over the world to tie three yellow ribbons on the outside of their homes in solidarity with the missing teenagers, just as people had once done in solidarity with America’s POWs in Vietnam, the American hostages in Iran and the troops of Desert Storm.   He pledged to go back home and do the same.

Shortly after his widely-broadcasted visit and public statement, Tony Orlando received a handwritten note from Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, thanking him for his expression of solidarity, adding: “Your encouragement and support for the families has won you Israel’s gratitude…”

It was not the first time that Orlando has been outspoken about his love and support for Jewish causes – the State of Israel in particular.  Though not of the Jewish faith himself, he is among the courageous few in his industry not afraid to speak truth to power nor to identify reality exactly for what it is.

In the long-standing Jewish tradition of Hakorat Hatov – giving due recognition to those who perform acts of kindness on one’s behalf – Chabad of the Conejo will present the “Voice of Courage Award” to Tony Orlando at its upcoming Evening of Song and Solidarity at the Thousand Oaks Civic Arts Plaza. 

“When you consider what the evening will be all about – Jewish continuity, solidarity with Israel and the power of music to convey those messages and ideas – I cannot think of a better forum in which to express our gratitude to a loyal friend and celebrity who has distinguished himself through his music and his devotion to worthy causes,” said Laurence Michelson, a close friend of Orlando’s who, along with his wife, Debbie, will be among the some fifteen couples serving as chairpersons of the June 10th celebration.

“Israel needs more friends like Tony Orlando,” Michelson went on to say, “and we, as supportive American Jews, need to show how much we value and honor friendship, courage and support like his.”

World-renowned philanthropists, Bob Book and Jay Schottenstein, also longtime friends and admirers of Tony Orlando, are likewise delighted that the singer and activist will be receiving the gratitude and recognition he deserves, and have agreed to serve as Honorary Chairpersons of the campaign. 

Born and raised in New York City, Tony Orlando had songs on the charts by the time he was 16. He then became a producer and served as one of the youngest vice-presidents for CBS Records.  It was on a fluke that he was lured back into the performance side of the business in the early 1970’s, taking the music scene by storm with a string of hit songs on multi-million selling recordings, including Candida, Knock Three Times, and – arguably one of the most popular American songs of all time – Tie a Yellow Ribbon.

Shortly thereafter, Orlando hosted a highly-rated weekly TV variety show on CBS – “Tony Orlando and Dawn” – which ran for four seasons and featured the biggest names in show business as his guests, including Jackie Gleason and Jerry Lewis. In later years, Tony would serve as a prominent guest and New York host of Jerry Lewis’s Labor Day Telethon.  He also teamed up with Lewis for a series of Las Vegas stage shows in the early 1990’s.

Tony Orlando has played to packed arenas and for five Presidents. He has been a recipient of three American Music Awards, a People’s Choice Award and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. To this day, he remains one of America’s most endearing and enduring stars, appearing as a popular headliner in Las Vegas, Atlantic City, Reno, Biloxi, Branson and performing arts centers around the world.

Deeply humbled and honored to be receiving Chabad of the Conejo’s “Voice of Courage Award,” Tony Orlando has gladly and graciously agreed to sing a number of songs at the Evening of Song and Solidarity together with his long-time friend, Dudu Fisher, with whom he’s shared the stage on previous occasions. 

“Music, honor, gratitude, solidarity and celebration –” says Chairman Michelson, “you can’t ask for a better combination to make Jewish hearts soar and G-d proud.”

Martin and Sandi Glade to Be Celebrated as “Champions of the Spirit”

“As difficult as life may have been, it was filled with much beauty and joy,” says Martin Glade of the early years of his upbringing in the town of Lornci, located some 45 miles northeast of Budapest, Hungary. Born in 1926 as the youngest of seven children, Martin – who went by the name Mordechai Goldstein for the early years of his life – remembers poverty and anti-Semitism as being little more than distractions from the essentials of their deeply religious way of life.

“Being called names or getting beaten up was something you accepted as normal,” says Martin. “Besides, who would you complain to, and who would do anything about it?  Nobody.  So we just went about our lives.”  While his mother, Blima, was the spiritual mainstay of the home, his father, Asher, worked as a shoemaker to support the family. His five older sisters (one of whom, Miriam, would die of tuberculosis before the war) were seamstresses, and his older brother, Hershel, was a Rosh-Yeshiva, or school headmaster, as well as a bookbinder by profession.

By age four, young Mordechai could read Hebrew and was already enrolled in the local Cheder (Jewish day school), which he would later continue attending in the afternoons after attending mandatory public school in the mornings, where he was often subjected to anti-Semitic diatribes by teachers and fellow students alike.

As he approached the higher grades, Martin left home and was provided room and board by Jewish households in the bigger cities where he could pursue more advanced Jewish studies, returning home after each semester for the holidays.  It is the memories of celebrating Passover, Sukkot, Chanukah and Purim with his family and friends back home that stand out most in Martin’s mind and inevitably bring him to tears. “Those memories have been with me and have kept me going throughout my life – in good times and in bad,” he says. “Back then, our lives revolved around the town’s one and only synagogue – a beautiful building built by my great uncle.  It was not only a center of spirituality, but also where we came together as a community and where the kids had lots of fun.”

With each passing year in the late 1930’s, the idyllic times of Martin’s youth would be increasingly displaced by a mounting sense of dread and fear. While not yet fully aware of the extent of Hitler’s evil machinations, they could sense the dark clouds of hatred moving in their direction. The expressions and incidents of anti-Semitism would become more frequent and overt.  Before long, able-bodied Jewish men would be conscripted for “service” and sent off to slave labor camps – many never to be heard from again – one of Martin’s brothers-in-law among them.

When the Germans occupied Hungary in March of 1944, freedom of movement became even more restrictive for Jews, who were forced to wear the infamous “yellow stars” whenever in public. Vandalism of Jewish homes and businesses became commonplace at the hands of Hungarian citizens and authorities alike – including the painting of green arrow crosses, the Hungarian version of the swastika, outside the Jewish homes of Lornci.

It was the Friday after Passover of 1944 that the order was issued for the Jews of Lornci – whose most precious valuables had already been confiscated – to take whatever essential possessions they could carry on their person and report to the railroad station the following Sunday. Martin remembers the ocean of tears that flowed freely at home and in the synagogue throughout the ensuing Shabbat.

That fateful Sunday, all of the Jews of Lornci were loaded onto boxcars, to be transported to the city of Salgotarjan, where they would be crammed into one of two small ghettos, along with tens of thousands of other displaced Jews. Each passing day brought new reports of the horrors taking place outside the ghetto.

Shortly before the holiday of Shavuot, Martin’s brother, Hershel, was summoned and sent off to a slave labor camp – never to be heard from again. It was not long thereafter that Martin received his own summons. When his family accompanied him to the drop-off point in the yard of the synagogue, his father suddenly remembered an item they had forgotten to pack in Martin’s knapsack and ran back to their living quarters to fetch it. Already emotionally distraught, Martin was secretly hoping his father would not return in time, so as to avoid having to bid him that final farewell.

His father did, however, make it back in time and Martin did indeed bid that heart-wrenching, tear-filled, final farewell to his parents and two sisters – a scene that would forever remain seared in his memory.  It was the last time he would see them, as the Jews of the ghettos of Salgotarjan would soon be transported to Auschwitz, where most of them – including Martin’s loved ones – would perish.

The next few years of Martin’s life would prove to be hell on earth. Transported aboard boxcars in horrific sub-human conditions from one makeshift slave-labor camp to another, Martin and his group would be charged with building an airport runway followed by backbreaking hauling duties to clear the ruins of areas around Budapest that had been bombed by allied forces. After the latter expedition, the SS took over from the Hungarians – using dogs and clubs and other such instruments of harassment and intimidation as their means of moving the prisoners along.

In the winter, Martin’s group was brought to Fertragos, a farming village close to the Hungarian-Austrian border, where they were forced to dig into the hard frozen earth to build elaborate labyrinths of trenches and foxholes for the German military. They slept in dilapidated stables – in which there would sometimes be more snow inside than out – and the hard and diluted “food” rations were sparse.

While in Fertragos, Martin developed a severe infection, causing his foot to swell beyond recognition. The pain was so excruciating that he couldn’t stand, let alone don his shoe. Unable to work, his rations were cut and he was was in danger of being deemed useless to the cause.  With no medication on hand, the best advice the camp’s doctor could offer was to have the foot amputated to prevent the infection from spreading – advice Martin soundly rejected. “I’m either getting out of here with both my feet or not at all,” he said resolutely. Instead, he got hold of a razor blade, ran it over fire and used it to drain the pus. Shortly thereafter, he was able to stand and almost miraculously willed himself back to work.

With the approach of Passover, one of the prisoners somehow managed to get a hold of some raw flour – an incredible occurrence that boggles Martin’s mind to this day. A small group of prisoners clandestinely kneaded the flour into dough, then built a makeshift oven into the trenches, and baked matzohs right under the Germans’ noses! Martin was given two pieces of matzoh which he would cherish and hold close to his person for the next many days. 

It was on the day before Passover that the prisoners were informed that those who felt strong enough would be heading out on a long march, while those who felt unable to do so could stay behind. Martin’s initial thought – given his bad foot – was to remain, but then his survival instinct kicked in once again, as he perceived the fate awaiting those who stayed behind. He again summoned every bit of will and determination to push past the pain – not only to join the march, but to make sure to stay in the forward part of the group, as the SS began aiming their rifles and picking off those who would straggle at the rear.

It was during that march – which went on for many days and nights – that many of Martin’s fellow prisoners lost their lives, including some of his closest friends. If it didn’t come from physical collapse or SS bullets, it came at the hands of cruel and sadistic Austrians along the countryside who came out to prey upon the helpless Jews, beating them with picks and shovels.

The weeks ahead would include a nonstop series of debilitating marches, boxcar journeys and stopovers in quarries and empty fields, including a sojourn at the notorious Mauthausen Concentration Camp. Thus was the pattern until May 5, 1945, when Martin found himself at a camp in Gunzkurchen, where he discovered what he thought to be a prized delicacy: discarded potato peels. While cooking the peels into a soup to serve to a sickly companion, he noticed the strange sight of people moving about freely. He then saw American soldiers among them. It took a little while for it to sink in that they had actually been liberated!

After months of recuperation – first under the care of the Americans and then the Russians – Martin managed to break off and travel to Budapest where he learned that his sister, Irene, had survived the war – the only other member of his immediate family to do so. 

After spending a number of months in DP Camps in Munich and Bavaria, Martin was part of a contingency of Jews commissioned by the American government for paid service at a large military depot just outside Munich.  Serving as a supervisor and part-time interpreter (making most of the little English he knew), he proved himself a very capable officer, gaining the praise and admiration of his superiors.

In 1949, in the wake of President Truman’s legislation to allow 400,000 European Jews into the United States – provided they had American hosts to sponsor them, Martin was informed that he’d been selected as one of ten refugees to be sponsored by a group of Jewish families in Tyler, Texas, to immigrate to America.  After an eventful journey serving as an interpreter aboard the ship that brought him to the shores of this country, Martin arrived in Tyler, where he was greeted and housed by a most gracious and hospitable community. He also found ways of giving back to the community by contributing his knowledge and service to the synagogue.

Upon learning months later that his sister and her family had gained passage to Los Angeles, Martin sought, and received, the blessings of his hosts to relocate to California. Once in LA, Martin put his extraordinary work ethic to good use, attaining employment with a cabinetry shop where he learned to operate large machines. This led to his operation of even larger, more sophisticated, machines for a precision grinding company, among other enterprises.

It was also during this period of time that he met Sally Einbinder of Boyle Heights, with whom he would start a family, including two children, Brenda and Roger.  While not quite the same as his own upbringing had been, his children were nonetheless raised in a very warm and nurturing traditional Jewish environment. It was upon attaining his United States citizenship in 1952 that Martin changed his surname from Goldstein to Glade (a story in itself.)

Despite everything Martin had been through, “Yiddishkeit” was always deeply embedded within his being. One of his life’s passions became purchasing and dedicating Sefer Torahs in honor of those who perished in the Holocaust, so that it would not only be their memories that lived on, but also the values and ideals for which they stood.  To date, Martin has dedicated five Torahs to various congregations, and has commissioned the writing of a sixth Torah, which is due to arrive in California any day now.

In time, Martin would venture into the food service industry, beginning with his opening of a neighborhood coffee shop, which he then sold to open a series of restaurants. From there, he founded “Marty’s Food,” which in addition, to catering parties and events, prepared pre-packaged lunches en masse to be sold at major places of business throughout the southland.

In 1998, Martin’s first wife, Sally, passed away from a sudden heart attack, but not before she had the chance to enjoy the nachas and pride of four adorable grandchildren.  Her passing dealt Martin yet another crushing blow, for which he would once again reach down to his inner core of faith in order to forge on.

In 2004, Martin was introduced to Sandi Brill, a very positive, affable and spirited woman with three daughters – Shari, Amy and Wendi – and several grandchildren of her own.  She, too, had known her share of tragedy and loss – her first husband, Stan, having been killed in an auto accident in the early years of their marriage.

Born and raised in the Bronx, New York, where she was greatly influenced by her kosher-observing grandmother, Sandi always had a special place in her heart for tradition. One of her most impactful Jewish memories is of a trip to Israel she took in the 1970’s with her local chapter of B’nai B’rith. “I remember how we sat on that bus, looking out the window at what our people had accomplished in that land and the tears just kept rolling down our cheeks,” Sandi recalls.

As the daughter of a man who had owned and operated a chain of stores back east, and in later years, a large pharmacy/health and beauty-aid store in downtown Los Angeles, Sandi, and her brother, Ron, always had a proclivity toward the operation of retail enterprises. In the 1970’s, Sandi worked closely with then-husband, Alan Ferber, in running the “Man Shop” chain of retail clothing stores, and later opened her own women’s clothing and jewelry store in Tarzana. She would subsequently work as a travel coordinator – both as an independent contractor and for various agencies. Her brother, Ron Brill, was one of the founders of Home Depot, America’s largest retailer of home improvement and construction products.

In addition to standing strongly and passionately with Israel and for Jewish causes, Sandi is active on behalf of Brandeis National Committee and UCLA’s Johnson Cancer Center.  She also has great admiration for Chabad and its openhearted and welcoming approach. Her daughter and son-in-law, Wendi and Mark Dyne, who are currently serving as Co-Chairpersons of Chabad of the Conejo’s Evening of Song and Solidarity, are past Honorees of Chabad in Marina Del Rey.

Martin and Sandi Glade were married in 2004.  Since then, they have complemented each other in many areas of family and communal life – none more so than in doting on the 12 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren between them.

When in their presence, one cannot help but be impressed by their warmth of heart, love for humanity and spirit of perseverance. Whatever obstacles may come their way, Martin and Sandi Glade somehow find a way to emerge stronger and more optimistic for it. They are true “Champions of the Spirit” in our midst, and on June 10th, the greater community is sure to be moved and inspired accordingly.