“In Grateful Recognition of Outstanding Service:” An Ode to Certificates

We collect a lot of certificates here at the Capital Jewish Museum. In fact, according to our database, we have over 150 of them! These certificates are made of paper, sometimes oversized, occasionally embossed, and some of them include images or fancy handwriting. On a surface level, they are simple, ephemeral documents. But if you stop and think about what they represent in toto—this is a paper trail that spans more than a century, demonstrating achievement, loyalty, service, and expertise. Certificates, in fact, tell a remarkable, often esoteric, occasionally poignant, always extremely specific tale about the history of work, committee, and school life in the DC region.

I first went searching in our collection for certificates while looking for materials to include in one of our lobby display cases in honor of Veteran’s Day (on view November 7-December 1, come visit!). To start, we searched for items that represent both military service and government service in the Department of Defense. (This agency was founded as the War Department in 1789, later re-organized as the Department of Defense through the National Security Act of 1947, and is now also called the Department of War after an Executive Order signed earlier this year.) As it turns out, we have several military-related certificates, including the honorable discharge certificate for Herbert Harold Houser, Aviation Radioman Second Class, who was discharged from the Navy in 1946.

Honorable Discharge certificate from the United States Navy for Herbert Harold Houser, Aviation Radioman Second Class, January 23, 1946. Lillian and Albert Small Capital Jewish Museum Collection. Gift of Staci Houser.

Framed certificate from Combined Congregations and Rabbinical Council declaring Plotkins Kosher Market at 4843 Georgia Avenue is kosher, December 24, 1953. Signed by Harry Chidakel. Lillian and Albert Small Capital Jewish Museum Collection. Gift of Edith Pascal.

Camp Airy Merit Certificate for special achievement in Athletics awarded to Richard Zweigenhaft, August 1956. Lillian and Albert Small Capital Jewish Museum Collection. Gift of Richard Zweigenhaft.

Certificate of Recognition, from the US Department of Defense, presented to Steven L. Schleien for his service during the period of the Cold War (September 2, 1945-December 26, 1991). Lillian and Albert Small Capital Jewish Museum Collection. Gift of Steven L. Schleien.

Civilian military-related jobs are less well represented in our collection, but just a few weeks ago, as part of our federal employee collecting initiative, we picked up several certificates from Steven L. Schleien, who retired this summer as the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for Defense Continuity and Mission Assurance. When we went to collect the materials, he told us about Jewish life at the Pentagon, though (sadly for me) he retired before we had the chance for him to escort us to the sukkah in the Pentagon courtyard. Representing a long career in government service, these certificates are now in our collection and will help us tell the story of Jewish federal employees and the role of Jewish Washingtonians in US foreign policy. Schleien donated to us his Certificate of Recognition, in which he was commended by the Secretary of Defense for his service “during the period of the Cold War in promoting peace and stability for this Nation,” and also his Secretary of Defense Medal for Meritorious Civilian Service as Chief Operating Officer, which he received in 2017. Both will be on display this November.

My deep dive into the world of certificates, however, soon moved well beyond the military. Federal and municipal employees are a certificate-rich environment. Nettie Ottenberg, for example, was a social worker and childcare activist; a certificate in our collection notes that she was appointed to the Public Welfare Advisory Committee on Day Care in DC in 1963. Earlier this year we displayed Wendy Schumacher’s certificate announcing her Gold Medal for Exceptional Service from the Environmental Protection Agency in the 1990s.

You’ll be pleased to learn that we have the paperwork to show that Jewish Washingtonians have excelled at their jobs and in their community roles. We have Jonathan Grossman’s Community Service Award from the Jewish Theological Seminary, for example: he was commended for his “exemplary leadership” in the Conservative Movement, in 2007. Sometimes the certificates represent a fleeting moment of youthful success: Richie Zweigenhaft earned a merit award certificate for “special achievements in athletics” at Camp Airy in August of 1956. We also have a few business-related certificates, such as the kosher “sign & seal” for Plotkin’s Kosher Market on Georgia Ave., from 1953.

How do we happen to have so many certificates? The scenario is usually, we tell a potential artifact donor, “hey, we’re interested in work-related materials from your career,” or “we’re interested in items representing your military service or your educational journey or representing your social life.” And somewhere in most peoples’ houses, usually in a box, or maybe a pile, or perhaps even behind a magnet on the fridge (speaking for a friend), is a pile of certificates. (You are probably thinking of your pile right now. Give us a call! Or email us at [email protected]).

I love a certificate. The crisp paper, the colorful flair on the corners, the calligraphy, the stamp of authenticity. Certificates are modest and ephemeral, but they symbolize such big feelings, such triumphant success, such career milestones. They represent community, participation, and care. Certificates commemorate high points in a life trajectory—graduation; military commendation; conversion; citizenship; marriage. If you get a certificate, it means you did something, you interacted with somebody, you proved yourself. You stepped up when your job or your country or your partner or your community needed you.

I have several certificates at my house—and yes, they are hanging precariously by a magnetic clip on the fridge. Every time I shut the door too hard and they fall on the floor, picking each one up gives me a chance to remember the moments they represent, the studying and the hard work, the camaraderie, the showing up. I got a certificate once from a group of students I spoke with about my museum career. They made each of the speakers a personalized certificate to thank us for our time—mine says “For Sarah Leavitt: If a museum could be a person, it would be you.” I’m not sure this makes any sense, but it’s one of my proudest achievements to date, so I’m glad it’s immortalized on a certificate.

The Museum’s initiative to collect items telling the stories of local Jewish federal workers is supported by Sue Ducat in memory of Stanley Cohen (z’l).

If you have artifacts or images related to Jewish federal workers in the DC region, contact us at [email protected]