My Father liked routine. He liked consistency. Every morning that I can remember of my childhood, my Dad started the day the same way—waking up early and making his way to the kitchen to eat a Lender’s Onion Bagel with Philadelphia Cream Cheese and a slice of Swiss cheese, with a glass of Tropicana Orange Juice. He watched the news, put his plate in the sink, and left for a day of “stamping out disease and pestilence wherever I may find it,“ as he liked to say. I can still see that green and white Lender’s bag slouched over in the freezer; it’s one of the icons of my childhood.
So, when The Nosher accepted my pitch to write The Jewish History of Lender’s Bagels, I was elated, ecstatic, but also, a little sad. Of all the stories I’ve written (and I’ve wanted to share so many with him since he passed), this one would just tickle my dad to bits. He would think, like I do, that the fact that I got to talk to THE Marvin Lender, one of the original Lender’s Men, was so, so cool. He would love to know that Marvin, on the phone, is a dead ringer for his cousin Marty.
Though, religiously speaking, I didn’t grow up with much Jewish Stuff in my life, I DID grow up with a few very culturally Jewish traditions, including the obligatory bagel spread that we had whenever we visited my Uncle Kenny, Aunt Jan, and Grandma (‘Ma Bebow‘) in Virginia Beach, or whenever they would come visit us. Someone would bring raspberry Joyva jellies and make a big deal of handing them over (“I had to go to three stores, but I know how you love these,” as if we weren’t all going to descend on them with equal levels of rapacity); we’d start the morning with bagels with the works and end the day with Mah Jongg, my cousin Mitchell and I sorting the tiles between hands. It was a comforting tradition in a childhood that was relatively scant on those.
(above: Murray Lender, Marvin’s brother and the face of Lender’s bagels. My favorite picture of him, serving Elliott Gould-esque charm)
When I interviewed Marvin Lender for this story, I was thoroughly charmed. I wanted to fly down to Florida and sit with him on a veranda while he wove yarns about the good old days and his sincere love for his brother, the face of Lender’s Bagels, Murray Lender. His memories were sharp as ever at 80 years old, and it struck me, as he spoke, what a debt we bagel lovers owe to the Lender’s family—from frozen bagels to pre-sliced bagels, they innovated the industry, and left their mark on history, on my family, on Jews everywhere.
I’ve written several times about my dad since he passed, but in some ways, this was a story I wrote for my dad (and for my husband’s dad, Gerry Ganz, who also loved a Lender’s), and I like to think he’s reading it over a tall glass of OJ and a freshly toasted Lender’s Bagel.
(above: If you ever come across any Lender’s merch, buy it, and I’ll pay you back.)
Thank you to Carl and Marvin Lender for their generous willingness to share their family history and to Colin Caplan of Taste of New Haven for helping with the research for this story.