The Burnt House and Horrific Ruins

When I was ten, I came on a family trip to Israel for the first time. My family did a lot of tourist things: we went to Ein Gedi, the Kotel, the beach, and Ben Yehuda. While touring the Old City of Jerusalem we also visited the Burnt House, which is the ruins of a house destroyed in 70 CE, when the Romans sacked Jerusalem. The ruins were similar to a lot of others that we had seen, so being a curious child I wandered around reading the various signs, which contained a lot of semi-interesting information about the site. This continued until I saw something that stopped me in my tracks.

On one of the signs, there was a picture of a single arm, the only human remains discovered in the structure. The sign indicated that this was the arm of a young girl, possibly a resident of the house. In my mind I pictured the girl, running from the fire and trying to climb up the stairs, grabbing for the handrail while the fire engulfed her. I wouldn't say it stir my imagination as much as it just plain terrified me, and for years after I would have nightmares. 20 years later it still freaks me out.

As a result of that one picture, I relate to the Burnt House in a completely different way than I do any other ruins I have visited. While I can study other ruins with a detached bemusement, it is much, much harder to think of the Burnt House as anything except a place of horror.














This is an important thing to acknowledge in our study of ruins. There are a great many causes of ruins, ranging from benign neglect and peaceful abandonment, to natural disasters such as earthquakes or tsunamis, to man-made disasters and war. But as years pass, the potency of a ruin dies down and it becomes a peaceful place. Even if we know fully well the story behind the ruin, and even it many people died, there is still a calm about them. However, sometimes a single image is enough to prevent this from happening, to keep the wound fresh and breed horror. Like an episode of Unsolved Mysteries, designed to send chills up your spine, certain things keep some specific ruins from resting in peace.

When I consider the various ruins of Rosh Ha'ayin, there is nothing that particularly raises the shackles of fear in me, though dozens of wars have been fought and countless people have died in and around Rosh Ha'ayin over its 7,000 years of habitation. There are ruins of Aphek, Antipatris, and the British pumping station, ruins of Migdal Zedek, Mirabel, Majdal Yaba, ruins of the British army base, of Amidar houses, of buildings that have burnt to the ground, been demolished, or collapsed, but they all seem peaceful to me. I wonder whether others view them differently, just as I will never see the Burnt House as a mere tourist attraction. In particular, I wonder about former inhabitants of Majdal Yaba, still within living memory, and the nearly-invisible ruins of that village. I wonder about the British buildings that formed the skeleton of Rosh Ha'ayin and immigrants whose children went to the hospital and were never seen again. I wonder what it is that makes a site horrific. These are sites that will, almost certainly, universally rest in peace as serene ruins or redeveloped sites in the future. For now, I wonder if there are any who still think of them in horror.

Rosh Haayin Neighborhood Growth, 1880-2010

Ras el Ein Train Station

The history of the railroad in Palestine has been chronicled in several books, such as Paul Cotterell's The Railways of Palestine and Israel and a chapter in Gad Gilbar's Ottoman Palestine, 1800-1914. Proposals for railroad development date back to the 1830s, but the first line was only completed in 1892 - the French-built Jaffa-Jerusalem line.

The Ottomans, who controlled Palestine until the middle of World War I, do not seem to have made a priority of the Palestine Railway, but during the war some lines were extended for strategic purposes. The man behind these railways was a German, Heinrich August Meissner (1862-1940). Among the many kilometers of track for which he is responsible, I am mostly convinced that he built the first railroad line by Ras el Ain, a narrow-gauge line, roughly around 1915. Shortly thereafter, the British captured this territory, and the Egyptian Expeditionary Force began switching the track to Standard Gauge. They seem to have reached Ras el Ain at some point in 1918. The British renamed the system the Palestine Railways, which remained its name until 1948, when Israel was founded and renamed it the Israel Railways.

Map from Gad Gilbar's Book

The Ras el Ain station originally existed on a line between Lod and Tulkarem, with stops at Kfar Yunnis and Qalqiliyah on either side. The modern Rosh Ha'ayin station, which is north of the original one, is located on the Hod Hasharon-Rishon Letzion line.

Migdal Zedek Quarry, 1936

1921 Map. Red Lines may indicate RR lines

1925 Map by Abraham Brauer. Ras el Ain shown with Station

1929 Map of Majdal Yaba. Station clearly shown

Map of Ottoman Railroads

It is unclear if there was originally a train station at Ras el Ein. It seems that there has been a station at Ras el Ein since the track was originally laid, in 1915. At first I thought that it was likely that originally there was no stop at that location, and that the British only later added a stop when they built the pumping station in the 1930s. However, the 1929 map of Majdal Yaba certainly shows a stop, as does the 1925 map. The 1921 map, whose red lines I think denote the railroad, does not underline Antipatris, but since there is no key it is hard to take this as concrete proof that there was no stop. There is a spur that runs west from the Ras el Ain station toward Petach Tikva, so I then thought that the Ras el Ain station was originally built to allow trains to run off the main line to Petach Tikva. But in letters regarding the construction of the Petach Tikva line in 1920 the Ras el Ein station was said to already exist. Presumably, the station was built in 1915 for the Ottoman  war effort, as Ottoman troops were stationed in the fortress at Antipatris. The station influenced the location of the army base, built first in 1937. We also know that the quarries used the Ras el Ein station to transport their stone. As such, the train station is a crucial part of the history of Rosh Ha'ayin.

Today a new station has been built to the north of Rosh Ha'ayin. The old station still stands and looks fairly modern, but it is no longer in use. It is beginning to show some wear, such as broken windows and graffiti. When we visited, an alarm was going off. 

Ras el Ein Station. (David Ra'if, from Hagana Archive)

Ras el Ein Station. (David Ra'if, from Hagana Archive)

Modern Day Rosh Ha'ayin South Station, No Longer in Use

Pumping Station

On Thursday we took a trip to the archaeological site of Tel Aphek/Antipatris. The Ottoman fortress itself was interesting, though uninspiring as a ruin. The fortress is spread out and has been made into a tourist attraction, complete with roped-off areas. Walls have been reconstructed, facing stones have been replaced, all vegetation has been removed and in general we found in lacking.

On the other hand, we saw some amazing ruins of the British Mandate pumping station. These ruins were clearly not the emphasis of the park, and the ruins only benefited from this. In one instance we found a ruin that didn't appear on any map and that we had to dig through brush to reach. In other building, we found the remains of machinery that lent a Piranesi-esque feeling to the room.

These two approaches were contrasted with a third ruin on site, the remains of a small theater (designated an odeon by archaeologists due to its small size). The theater was small and the stage area was left in place, half with flagstones and half without. The seating area, however, had been replanted with grass. Although this was clearly done on purpose, one still got a ruin-sense. You could tell that seating existed underneath, but it had been covered by vegetation. This perhaps represents a compromise between the previous two approaches - human intervention and preparation for tourists, yet in a way that maintained much of the site's ruin value.

Amidar Houses and other State-Built Structures in Rosh Ha'ayin

The modern city of Rosh Ha'ayin was built on a former British military base, Ras el Ain, which was established in 1937. The influx of immigrants streaming into Israel after 1948 pushed the new State to its limits, and quick solutions were needed to house the new arrivals. The base already had paved roads, electricity, and a number of existing buildings on site. When Operation Magic Carpet overwhelmed the housing supply, the State quickly decided to establish a new refugee camp in Rosh Ha'ayin, and in about a week prepared the grounds for the influx of Yemenis.

At first the camp was divided into four camps of tents (in what is today the Rambam Neighborhood) and was intended to be temporary. However, the residents demanded that they be allowed to stay, and in the early 1950s it was decided that Rosh Ha'ayin would become a ma'abara and a permanent settlement. This meant that permanent houses needed to be built.

In 1949 Israel set up an organization, Amidar, to build housing cheaply and quickly. In Rosh Ha'ayin, like in many other locales, Amidar went to work, and by 1953 there were 1,208 government-built houses in Rosh Ha'ayin. First four, and then an additional two, neighborhoods were started, known at the time as Neighbhorhoods aleph (543 dunam), bet, (650 dunam) gimmel (725 dunam), daled (805 dunam), hei and vav (combined 550 dunam). (Today these neighborhoods have been renamed: Aleph= Tzahal; Bet= Aviv; Gimmel=Shabazi; Daled=Rambam; Hei is part of Aviv as well; and Vav=Harekafot) Daled/Rambam was the location of the tents, which explains why it was the last of the original four neighborhoods to be built - the tents first had to be evacuated. Aleph and Gimmel were started in 1951, while Bet and Daled began in 1952.

Although tens of thousands passed through Rosh Ha'ayin, a far smaller number settled there permanently. In 1956, approximately 5,600 lived there. The first wave of permanent houses were cheap and spartan, with only a two rooms, built with two houses sharing a wall. They did have indoor plumbing, however. Most sources state that these houses were 24 sq.m, but it seems more likely that they were actually 27.5 sq.m, as shown in the plan from David Zuslavski's Shikun Olim B'Israel. Several types of support buildings were also constructed, and the book shows pictures of a state-built synagogue (98 sqm), clinic(275 sq.m), tipat halav (86 sq.m), kindergarten (64 sq.m) and day care center (149 sq. m) in Rosh Ha'ayin. A chart shows that by 1953, Rosh Ha'ayin also had 3 state-built stores of 65 sq.m and a convenience store of 158 sq.m.

Rosh Ha'ayin is an excellent example of Amidar's work in building up settlements and providing first-stage houses for immigrants. Many examples still exist, some in their original state and others with many additions; some in good condition, and others in ruins. These buildings certainly have significance in the story of Rosh Ha'ayin, but they also have significance in the story of Israel.

Operation Magic Carpet

Along with our ruin research, we're going to be focusing on the history and development of Rosh Ha'ayin. This was bound to lead to a post about the dramatic Operation Magic Carpet, so here goes.

Between June 1949 and September 1950, nearly 50,000 Yemenite Jews were brought to Israel secretly, following pogroms and looting that stemmed from the UN Partition plan of 1947. Famously, many of the Yemenite Jews knew nothing about airplanes, but boarded the DC-4 or C-46 aircrafts when they were reminded of the biblical verses about being returned to Israel "on eagles' wings." Many thousands of these refugees passed through Rosh Ha'ayin between 1949 and 1951, with about 8,000 settling there permanently. The city crest of Rosh Ha'ayin bears a pair of wings and the phrase "on eagles' wings" as a result.

The airline that took part in Magic Carpet was Alaska Airlines, and on their website they proudly tell a number of stories from the operation. One article tells of Warren and Marian Metzger, he an airline captain and she a stewardess, who served on the mission. Warren Metzger explained that:

"I had no idea what I was getting into, absolutely none. It was pretty much seat-of-the-pants flying in those days. Navigation was by dead reckoning and eyesight. Planes were getting shot at. The airport in Tel Aviv was getting bombed all the time. We had to put extra fuel tanks in the planes so we had the range to avoid landing in Arab territory."

Another posting tells of Stanley Epstein, who volunteered as a pilot, and a narrow escape by Bob Maguire, who was forced to land his plane in Egypt but managed to convince the Egyptians to refuel his plane by telling them the passengers had smallpox. Maguire's obituary appeared in the New York Times in 2005. Yet another article tells of James Wooten, then the president of Alaska Airlines, who "was the driver behind Alaska's participation in the airlift, and he played a key role in the logistics of the nearly year-long operation that made the mission successful despite many challenges."

Rosh Ha'Ayin, The Immigrant Camp, Home: A Song

נולדתי בראש העין

ניסים גרמה

מילים: דן אלמגור

נולדתי בראש העין

במחנה העולים בחורף קר

גדלתי בראש העין

בכל שבת לאן טיילנו? למבצר

פעם בשבוע היה לנו קולנוע

מטיילים ברוח חולמים על אופנוע

לא תענוג לגדול באוהל קר פרוץ למים

אך בליבי שמורה פינה חמה עדיין

לראש העין של ילדותי

יצאתי מראש העין

מצאתי עבודה היה לי קצת מזל

הרחקתי מראש העין

טיילתי בעולם עם להקת ענבל

איפה לא היינו לונדון, ריו, פאלו אלטו

מבצרים גדולים מזה של אנטיפטרוס

לא תענוג לגדול באוהל קר פרוץ למים

אך בליבי שמורה פינה חמה עדיין

לראש העין של ילדותי

נולדתי בראש העין

הוריי ואחיותיי גרים שם עד היום

כל פעם לראש העין

אני קופץ עם ילדתי לומר שלום

מחייכים אלי כולם: תראו מי בא, ניסים פה

יש חתן תנ"ך צעיר כולם כל כך גאים בו

לא תענוג לגדול באוהל קר פרוץ למים

אבל איפה אני מרגיש תמיד בבית

בראש העין של ילדותי

לא תענוג לגדול באוהל קר פרוץ למים

אבל איפה אני מרגיש תמיד בבית

בראש העין

בראש העין

בראש העין של ילדותי

Click Below for Audio

British Military Huts and Sheds

Modern Rosh Ha'ayin is built on the site of the British RAF Ras el Ain military base. A number of distinctive-looking sheds still grace the city. Some are still in use for a variety of purposes, others are abandoned and some are ruined.

Starting with World War I, the British began using a variety of quickly-deployed military sheds. Chief among these were the Romney Hut and Nissen Hut. The US army adopted a similar style in their Quonset Huts. These structures made use of corrugated metal to form the hull of the building. The structures were poorly insulated, but provided quick shelter. Other designs developed for the home front, such as the Anderson Shelter (for a bomb shelter).

The aesthetic of the Rosh Ha'ayin buildings is similar to the other huts. However, the design is slightly more sophisticated. The metal only forms the roof, while the support walls are made of brick. Ridges at the top provide a small amount of lighting if properly oriented. I consulted with Paul Francis, author of British Military Airfield Architecture, but he did not recognize the form of the Rosh Ha'ayin buildings. It could be that they were the work of a local designer/architect and were only adopted here.

Modern Ruins - The British RAF Base Remains - Rosh Ha'Ayin

Watchtower on Ha'avoda in Old Industrial Area

Old Industrial Area, Ha'avoda 21

Old Industrial Area, Ha'avoda

On Shalom Mantzura, a British building converted into living quarters, separate units done up, yet parts of the building remain ruinous...

Shalom Mantzura

Old Industrial Area, Ha'avoda 17

Shalom Mantzura 19

Graffiti on Ruinous British Building, part of which is still in use for a tabacco factory, the graffiti says, 'Tehillim neged Tilim' - 'Psalms against Missiles', reflecting the religious persuasion of many of the original population of Rosh Ha'ayin.

Tobacco Factory Building, Shalom Mantzura 32