Jack Abraham, the “Ruby Baron” of New York, has had an interesting life, both before and after his founding of Precious Gem Resources 45 years ago. He hails from the kehillah of Afghanistan, which until the past few centuries was seen as part of the ancient Persian Jewish community.
Mr. Abraham discussed his fascinating life and his work cofounding the largest gemstone association in the United States.
Born Yacov Shamash, both his first and last name went through several iterations before he became known as Jack Abraham. Like the gems he enthusiastically converses about, his life experiences were mined from ancient veins and polished for modern tastes.
There are four precious gemstones: diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds. Diamonds, the most famous, are their own category, and they involve fierce competition from the guilds in Dubai, Israel, India and Antwerp, as well as the labs of China and India. Meanwhile, its colorful sisters, referred to as “colored gemstones,” have slipped under the radar of both challengers.
Mr. Abraham is upfront as to why he got into the colored stones business: like his customers, he is enchanted by their bright hues. Of the three, rubies are the rarest, and it is in this field that Mr. Abraham has excelled. Rubies are to Mizrachim what diamonds are to Ashkenazim, he tells me. He has one of the finest collections of rubies and sapphires in North America. His 6.97 carat Thai ruby won the “World’s Most Beautiful Ruby” Award in 2017.
In order to keep the industry safe from the labs that have ruined the diamond trade, Mr. Abraham has made transparency in gem enhancement and origin a key aspect of his business persona. A founding member of the American Gem Trade Association, he chaired the ethics committee that in 1981 formulated their groundbreaking Code of Ethics and Business Practices.
—Yochonon Donn
I was born in Kabul, Afghanistan, in 1943. My Jewish name is Yacov. My father’s name was Shalom, the son of David, the son of Abraham. My mother’s name was Sarah Malka.
“Our family name is not Abraham; it’s Shamash. Shamash means the shamash of the beit haknesset. My ancestors served as shamashim back in Herat, Afghanistan and Mashhad, Persia.
“About 190 years ago, in 1835, the authorities in Mashhad, Iran, told the Jews there, ‘Either you convert, we kill you, or you give us protection money.’ Many Jews fled to Herat. My great-grandfather, Abraham, was one of the people in Herat who received and took care of them.
“When the family moved to Israel, we took our great-grandfather’s name as the family name.
“My father was in general merchandising—anything and everything. He sold dry fruit, clothing, tires, auto and truck parts, oil, yarn, pistachios, second-hand army uniforms, tea from Ceylon and Taiwan, gold—whatever Afghanistan needed, if he could get it, he got it there. Back in the 1960s, he was importing from Japan, England, Italy and the United States. And it wasn’t a one-way street—whatever Afghanistan could export, he did that too.
“My father was active in the community all his life. He was the leader and represented the Afghan Jewish community when visiting the king. He built a shul in Kabul in the 1960s, and the old cemetery there was under his name. I later transferred it to the authority of the Afghan shul on Kent Street in Queens where I was the president; it is named Congregation Anshei Shalom in his honor.
“When I left Afghanistan, my passport stated my name as Yacov David, and I was known by that name from 1954 until 1968. When I became a US citizen, my name became Jack S.D. Abraham, for Yacov Shalom David Abraham; I have the names of all my grandfathers.
“In 1954, my father, sister and I moved to Israel, and I was placed in a religious school in Jerusalem. I was extremely unhappy and ran away three times. In 1955, I went to Kibbutz Be’eri, which was one of the worst-hit kibbutzim during the massacre. Eventually, my father came to visit and saw that they raised pigs there, so he took me out and placed me in a different school in Chadera. I went to Whittingham College in England in 1958, and in 1962 I came here to America.
“I was active wherever I went. I was active in the Afghan community—I served three terms as shul president. I was active with the Young Israel of Holliswood. I was active with the American Sephardic Federation under Leon Levy. My wife, Mirta Nora, is the vice president of the Bukharan Congress under Lev Leviev. She is from Argentina, but she is half Polish and half Romanian. Her parents were George and Esther Ackerman.
“We lived in Queens for 43 years, and I was active in every synagogue in our area. Two and a half months ago, we moved to Great Neck, where I joined my Persian heritage—my grandmother, my father’s mother, was Persian. I am now a member of the Mashhadi and Syrian community of Great Neck.
“There is no Afghan shul here, but I feel at home with the Persians. Afghanistan and Iran were connected to each other for thousands of years; it was only in the last two centuries that they were divided. Throughout history, whoever controlled Iran controlled Afghanistan and vice versa. We even speak the same language, just different dialects.
“In fact, the world’s oldest Jewish book —it has tefillot, Shir Hashirim and a Haggadah shel Pesach—was found in Afghanistan; it is from the year 700 CE. It will be unveiled at the Bible Museum in Washington in September. When I read from it, they told me, ‘Jack, you’re the first Afghan Jew to read it in 1,300 years.’
“So what do I consider myself? Let me put it this way. My four grandparents are from different parts of Edot Hamizrach—anyone east of Syria is Mizrachi. I come from four different countries. On my father’s side, his father was Afghan and his mother was Persian. On my mother’s side, I think her father was from Bukhara, Uzbekistan, and her mother was from Mary, Turkmenistan. Mary is one of the oldest cities in the region. Mashhad, Herat, Mary and Buchara were all sister cities in ancient times. Businessmen would go from city to city.
“My life is an absolute miracle. Do you know why? Most people are only born once, but I was born four times.
“The first time was when my mother gave birth to me. But G-d saved me from drowning three times.
“The first time was when I was seven years old in Afghanistan and I fell into a well. It was a deep well, and me and two other boys were trying to draw water from it with a pail. Miraculously, the pail fell down first and settled upside down, and I landed on my feet on top of it. I was standing there with water up to my nose, and I was bleeding from my head. My sister climbed down, and I told her, ‘Go back! You’re going to die too.’
“Finally, a Sikh who had been working on jewelry for us came. He took off his turban—it was very long—and my sister tied me to it, and they brought me up.
“The next time I was saved was when I was 13 years old and studying in Kibbutz Be’eri. We had gone to the beach in Ashkelon, and I suddenly fell into the sea. I knew how to swim, but the waves were too strong. I was flailing my arms and desperately trying to stay above water, but my friends thought I was joking around. They were laughing and I was panicking. I was very scared.
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