One of the gentleman, Peter, from Tuesday’s meeting told me the most charming story about Mr Rosenblum, and I’d like to think it is about Jack.
Peter was in Israel in the early 1950s. He was waiting at the airport to pick up some friends when an Israeli chap bounced up to him saying, ‘You must be English.’
Peter nodded and answered that, yes, he was indeed English.
The Israeli paused for a second before asking, ‘where do you live?’
‘London,’ said Peter.
‘Ah,’ the Israeli beamed, ‘Then you must know my friend Rosenblum.’
Peter sighed, ‘I’m afraid that London is a city of six million people. The chances of my knowing your friend are very small.’
The Israeli smiled, brooking no denial. ‘You must know Rosenblum. He makes shoulder pads.’