Issue link: https://viewer.e-digitaledition.com/i/895657
12 November 2 • 2017 jn tionally, even physically," he said. "Mistakes from the past, relationship regrets, my time in Haiti, my sobriety, my life burying the dead; it was all com- ing to a head. "Certain days, my anxiety and depres- sion became so severe that I would sit in the banya [steam room] for over three hours and sweat myself into a kind of trance. And it was then that I began to understand why so many men, whatever their positions in life might be, came so regularly and for so long [some have been coming weekly for over 50 years]. It felt like the medicine my mind and body had been needing for years." The Russian banya, or public bath- house, tradition dates back thousands of years — and more recently to a time when most residential homes and apart- ments lacked running hot water. The typical banya had both a steam room and a washing room, the latter dispens- ing warm water heated by the fiery-hot rocks of the former. Some banyas, like The Schvitz, also feature cold pools for bathers to dip into between sessions. Traditional felt hats are often worn to protect the head from hot temperatures, and short, fragrant oak leaf brooms called veniks are used to give platzas (Yiddish for shoulders or back) hot soapy massages that take place in the steam room. HISTORIC BEGINNINGS Lynch wasn't content with just owning The Schvitz. He wanted to understand its origins and, in particular, why it held such historical significance for the Jewish community. He contacted Rick Meltzer, whose father Harry B. and grandfather Charles Meltzer opened the business on Oakland Avenue at the height of the Great Depression in 1930. Rick now operates his father's St. Clair Shores restaurant, Uncle Harry's Deli, which opened in 1977 after The Schvitz changed hands in a foreclosure dispute. Harry B.' s cousin, Harry "Chinky" Meltzer, was an associate of the Purple Gang, a Jewish mobster group of bootleggers and hijackers who rose to prominence after Detroit became the U.S.' first "dry" city in 1917, three years before national Prohibition. Many mem- bers of the Purple Gang were known to frequent The Schvitz, where naked men couldn't conceal weapons and the wet steam made it impossible to wiretap conversations. In his deli, Rick has pictures of his siz- able family and the Oakland Baths [the original name] hanging on every wall. He spoke nostalgically of those days and the ease with which notable politi- cians, mobsters and regular folks of all different ethnicities and means mingled peacefully in the space. He was especial- ly proud to report that in the 45 years his family owned the establishment, "only two people died in there!" and both of natural or accidental cause with no foul play suspected. Rick remembers his father describing the earliest days at the Baths when $1 bought a patron a towel, a bar of soap and a bed in the hotel that used to be on the floor above where the bricked-out windows still stand. On the third floor was a ballroom with a bandstand for musical performances. He's optimistic about this trio's bold restoration efforts after many years of uncertainty and watching the business descend into more risqué ventures like swingers' nights to keep the bills paid. "It's a great effort," Meltzer said. "I'm pleased to see that they're bringing back what the club stands for: the steam, the history, the tradition that my dad and grandfather built it for. It was a social club, a place to relax, to get great food. A place to escape every day." "They're doing the right thing with the club," he nods approvingly. INTO THE FUTURE Paddy has assembled an impressive team to guide the business forward, a fact reflected in the club's new pricing structure that starts at $100 a month for unlimited access or $35 per visit. (He acknowledges that "for some people, club fees could be overly burdensome. Please discuss this with us in confi- dence. We have never refused anyone for CLOCKWISE: The original tiles in the bath were restored. A new, outdoor patio was added. Joe Nagle of Detroit enjoys the pool. ABOVE: The renovated locker room. jews d in the "It felt like the medicine my mind and body had been needing for years." — PADDY LYNCH continued from page 10