Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar has been serving as a Chabad emissary in Florida since 1969. After serving as the principal of the Landow Yeshiva Center (today LEC) for several years, he founded The Shul of Bal Harbour in 1982. He was interviewed by JEM four times in the years 2009, 2011, and 2024.
Not long after moving to Miami to become the principal of the Oholei Torah school, in 1970, I began teaching a Tuesday night Torah class.
One person who would attend and sometimes host this class was a local tennis champion named David Lifshultz. One day, David mentioned that he played a regular game with the owner of Kennedy and Cohen, a major regional retailer of large appliances. His name was Mel Landow.
“I would like to see if I could put on tefillin with him,” I told David.
David had his doubts over whether that could happen, but he told me when and where to catch Mel. I came to the tennis court and, between games, I interjected: “How about tefillin?”
Mel declined at first, but I proposed a bet: “If David wins the game, you put on tefillin.”
Along with being one of the great entrepreneurs of South Florida, Mel was an excellent tennis player, so he accepted.
“Dave, give us your best,” I cheered, and of course David beat him. Right after the game, Mel went with me to my car, where he put on tefillin.
Something touched him in this experience, and he started attending my Tuesday night class, as well. We used to study the Rebbe’s talks in that class, and Mel became enamored with the Rebbe and his approach to education. But, when I offered tefillin again, he turned me down. “It’s not relevant to me,” he would say. “Don’t talk to me about tefillin.”
Then, one day in 1972, as our school was experiencing some financial troubles, Mel called me over to his house. He said that his company was going public, and with his payout, he wanted to give half a million dollars to build a new Jewish school building. Back then, such a large sum was unheard of, and it was only the beginning of Mel Landow’s involvement. I called the Rebbe right away to give over the good news.
A few days later, the Rebbe’s secretary, Rabbi Hodakov, called. “It would be a fine thing if you could put on tefillin with Mordechai Shaul Landow,” he said, using Mel’s Hebrew name.
“That’s a very difficult thing to do.” I began to deflect, but then all of a sudden, I heard the voice of the Rebbe, who had been listening on an extension. I jumped out of my chair; I had never heard him on the telephone before.
“Tell him that I’m going to Ohel.” He was referring to the resting place of the Previous Rebbe, where he would often go to pray. Rabbi Hodakov explained that I should tell Mel that this would be an opportune time for him to put on tefillin.
“Beautiful tefillin,” I then heard the Rebbe say, followed by Rabbi Hodakov’s clarification that I should make sure to bring a nice pair of tefillin for Mel to put on.
Back then, only low-quality tefillin were sold in Miami, but then I heard the Rebbe’s voice again, suggesting that I use my own tefillin, but with nice cases.
I got off the phone, went to the local Jewish bookstore, bought a pair of sixty dollar tefillin, put the new cases on my tefillin, and went to meet Mel. He was playing tennis.
“You know Mel,” I began, “this is going to sound strange, but would you like to put on tefillin today?
“What’s so special about today?” he asked.
I told him about the Rebbe going to the Ohel, adding that, the Rebbe would surely pray for him when he heard about Mel putting on tefillin. He agreed. In fact, from that day on, he began putting on tefillin every single day.
At one point, I decided that Mel should go to meet the Rebbe, and we made an appointment. Mel brought along some plans he had been developing for the school in Miami, as well as for a big project he wanted to build in Israel. This development was going to have golf courses, clubhouses, tennis courts, convention facilities, and the best spa in the world; and the Israeli government was going to give him the land to do all of it. Actually, he was meeting the Israeli finance minister, Pinchas Sapir, the next morning, and we were going to fly back to Miami together that night.
As we waited to go into the Rebbe’s room, the time for our flight crept closer. Mel began asking some of the other people what they had come for. After hearing about how one person had this business problem, and another person had that health problem, he turned to me: “Sholom, let’s go back. The Rebbe has so much to do. We shouldn’t bother him with our stuff.”
“No,” I replied. “This is not the kind of meeting that you skip if it gets late.” We found another 3:00 AM flight through Atlanta that would get us into Miami in the morning, and we stayed.
When the time came, I went into the Rebbe’s office together with Mel, introduced him, and then walked out. I wanted him to be alone with the Rebbe.
“I came to tell you that we’re going to do everything right in Israel,” was the first thing he said to the Rebbe. “The Jewish people are going to be great.”
The Rebbe looked at him and said, “Everything is great? How about the hundreds of thousands of Jewish kids who are lost in the streets? How about the ones involved in drugs?”
“Well, Rebbe,” countered Mel, “let me tell you what I’m going to do in Israel.” He then pulled out his plans and showed the Rebbe.
“Let me ask you,” the Rebbe said. “When you bring someone into your house, do you take him to your library and your living room, or do you take him to your bathroom?”
“The library and living room, of course.”
“So why are you building bathrooms in Israel?” The Rebbe felt that there were more important things to do in the Holy Land than building a spa.
He was there for over an hour, and he came out in shock. We ended up spending the rest of that night speaking about the Rebbe, before arriving in Miami in the morning.
That afternoon, I got a call from Rabbi Hodakov, who had a message from the Rebbe for Mel: “I met a Jew to whom G-d has given powers which even I do not possess. Through them, he will bring hundreds of thousands of Jewish children back to their roots. Normally, one does not see the foundations of a building, but here, I have seen strong, deep foundations.”
The next day, a letter from the Rebbe came by special delivery. It began like this:
“…I had wondered what your reactions might be to my ‘un-American’ manner of welcoming you. For, the accepted American way, if I am not mistaken, is to greet one with a shower of compliments and praise.… Yet, instead of verbalizing my appreciation at length, I… immediately challenged you with new and formidable projects…
“I felt impelled to use the precious time at our disposal to discuss with you those matters… of vital importance…. Moreover, I was hopeful that you would accept my suggestions in the right spirit, precisely because you have already made a magnificent start….”
Since that magnificent start, thousands of children have learned in the school building that Mel Landow sponsored and supported over the years, many of whom have gone on to lead communities themselves.
