He was the world’s oldest CPA

“I lived through the (Russian) 1905 revolution, the 1913 revolution and the 1917 revolution. As a matter of fact, I was in the revolution waving flags.”

Were they red or white flags? “Red! (laughter) “After the revolution, it was better of course.”

The late Boris Dunsker was 100-years old when I interviewed him,, immigrated to the United States in l920 with his bride, Sonia (“You know a Jewish girl without the name Sonia?”), infant daughter and his sister. “My daughter wouldn’t

like me to tell you that. She likes to say she was born in America.”

They came to Cincinnati because Dunsker’s parents, two brothers and two other sisters had settled here a few years previously. Dunsker was born Dec. 25,1889 in Kiev, Ukraine.

What’s is so special about this elderly gentleman is that, until shortly before he passed away, he was actively employed as a Certified Public Accountant.

Dunsker reminisced about the day he watched the revolutionairies as they paraded down Kiev’s main thoroughfare carrying red flags. “I was working in a bank. Across the street was the Duma (parliament). It was the beginning of the revolution.

“I was one of the flag wavers. They marched for about 40 to 50 minutes before the horsebacked Cossacks came with their sabers and started swinging them right to left. They broke the demonstration up. After that, the pogroms began.

“They broke up our house completely,” Dunsker said, “tore the pillars–verything was terrible. All Russians are anti-Semitic. The less I remember about Russia, the better I like it. We had a lot of relatives in America who invited us. My parents didn’t want to go. My father said ‘You wouldn’t like America,’ but finally they decided to go.

“My family came here right after the pogroms. At that time we couldn’t go out all together. My parents decided it was too cumbersome to take a family of six children, so my sister and I remained behind. We would be joining them in a few years when they settled down. Meanwhile the war came (World War I) and we couldn’t come.We had to stay there until after the war finished.

“I met my wife in Russia. I had a baby already when I came here (at age 31). You know, boys and girls meet among families, My wife lived with her aunt. At one time, I also lived at her aunt’s. She was my aunt too, so she paired us up. Sonia was probably a distant relative. She passed away about 32 years ago.

“The Polonia was the flagship of the Polish Line. It was a big ship, but it took 14 days to travel from Poland to the United States. My parents already were in America. My parents first went to Boston, but my father didn’t like it in Boston. Mother had relatives in Cincinnati, so they came to Cincinnati.”

Was the trip nice?

“It was luxurious,” Dunsker laughed. “Transportation was expensive and the poor Jews usually went third class. But the more affluent, that had rich people in America–they sent tickets. My parents sent us first class tickets and we came here. We arrived in New York (harbor) at midnight. I couldn’t wait to go out of my cabin to look at the Statue of Liberty, and that’s all we did through the night. We couldn’t go to sleep. We looked at the statue. It was a nice evening with a clear sky. We were fascinated by the thing.”

Did the statue mean anything to you?

“In Russia, we heard. We knew a whole lot about America. The first thought on the boat, as the boat stopped, was to come out and look at the statue.”

The rumor in Russia was that the streets of America were paved

with gold. I asked whether he had heard that rumor?

“No, no! I was a college man in Russia. I went to the university. We weren’t hillbillies.” With his thick Yiddish accent, Dunsker continued his odyssey.”We landed in New York and then straight to Cincinnati by train. For about six months, I was a janitor when I came to America. I’m not kidding. I was a foreigner. I took any work I could take.

“My father was a very popular man, a much revered man. He seemed worried and said to his friend, ‘My son just came from Russia. He’s a grown man. He has a wife and a child and he works as a janitor. He’s an educated man.’ My father’s friend said, ‘I’ll call my son to get him a job.’”

Dunsker’s new job with the Gallop brokerage house paid him $30 a week as against $16 for the janitor’s job.

Why did you become an accountant?

“I didn’t become an accountant. I was an accountant in Russia. The usual profession that the Jewish boys picked was the easiest profession, so I became an accountant. But they didn’t recognize it here–papers or anything else. I had diplomas, but they didn’t recognize them.”

When Gallop went out of business during the early days of the Great Depression, Dunsker was called into the office and told before the other employees were informed, so that he would have a head start finding a new job. “My father wanted me to go to college to become a doctor,” but Dunsker’s two brothers pushed him to become a Certified Public Accountant. They had heard it was a good profession in the United States.

“I had to go to high school for about four months. I worked all day and at night I went to the university. They didn’t allow me to take the examination until I became a citizen. I became a citizen in 1935. Finally they gave me certification),” he explained.

During the depression, Dunsker said he told prospective employers, “Me and my family never went without a job. We always had a job. We never were unemployed or dependent on somebody.”

In Russia, Dunsker’s father had been a traveling salesman selling galoshes and overshoes. “He was a representative of the Moscow factory and had the entire southwestern part of Russia assigned as his territory.”

Stooped over and walking with difficulty, Dunsker explained how, after he lost his job at the brokerage agency, he took a Hamilton County, Ohio civil service test, eventually becoming head of the auditing department.

Concurrently with his Hamilton County position, Dunsker said he maintained a “private office nearby in another building with my own clients. I had the fanciest Jewish clientele in the city.

“I don’t depend on anyone. No one depends on me,” he said. “At the Courthouse, I had the big Auditor’s office, but I was friends with everybody. I never quarreled with anybody and I can get along with anybody as long as they don’t step on my toes. But I’m careful not to walk with my toes out so that someone can step on them.”

Why do you keep on working?

“It’s very simple. I wanted to eat. If you wanted to eat, you got your pay. To get your pay, you’ve got to work. I’m getting social security of course. I was always independent. I’m self supporting. No one helps me financially with anything and I don’t need any.”

When you worked at the bank in Kiev, you figured with pen and pencil. Have you worked with computers?

“I have a tough time working with a little adding machine. I saw a computer. We have computers all over but I never touched it. I tell people the story about the general that died with his boots on. They’ll say about me ‘He died with his pencil in his hand.’ When people get in touch with me, live near me–it’s contagious. I’m nice, so they get nice.”

Years ago, Boris Dunsker and his brothers Sheil and Sam were driving to a relative’s funeral. One brother told Boris, “When you die, they’ll give you the best and biggest funeral that Cincinnati ever saw.” Dunsker commented saying “I’m the oldest and he was the youngest and so he died. I’m 101 and he’s already 13 years dead. Dad was in his 90s when he died. Dad was always an old man. He was my old man. I’ve got a burial spot in the cemetery next to my parents and family,” Dunsker said.