Tracing fingers over a sleek black swatch of Chinese silk, Jack describes the fabric’s role in sparking his ideas for the design, manufacture and sale of fine decorative  fabrics. Its quality, workmanship and magnetic beauty caught his attention while he was stationed in China during World War II, propelling him to launch a textile business that ultimately grew to international stature. To this day, Jack remains passionate about formulating marketable color combinations for production; indeed, his son Donald, now president of Jack Hurwitz Inc., encourages his dad’s involvement in fabric creation and selections at their Gaithersburg headquarters. Yet, textiles are but one dimension of the Jack Hurwitz portrait. In the 1920s, the director of nine-yearold Yakov Hurwitz’s Hebrew school “discovered” the young student’s distinctive singing voice. This educator “found a place for me in the cantorial world,” relates Jack, “and I was a child cantor by the age of 13.” From this remarkable background, further enhanced by his participation in professional choirs of cantors arriving from Europe for training, Jack advanced his formal education, first at Boston’s Hebrew High School and then at Boston Hebrew College. He hoped to build a career within the American Jewish community. Jack Hurwitz

WWII altered his destiny. Enlisting in WWII in the Army the day after FDR’s Pearl Harbor speech, Jack left his leadership position at a Massachusetts synagogue and was assigned to the Aberdeen Proving Ground. Within weeks, he was appointed assistant chaplain for Jewish servicemen under the Army’s chief chaplain. At the first Shabbat service, he met his future wife Ruth, then secretary of the Jewish Welfare Board, Baltimore Division. She was essential in helping obtain supplies needed for religious services, and for Jack, “It was love at first sight,” he says, holding her portrait. In 1943, Jack served in India as theater chaplain for Jewish troops assigned to work on construction of the Lido Road, a convoy route from India through Burma and into China. Over a thousand Americans died in this effort. After every Jewish funeral, Jack clipped a fringe from his official tallit, a simple prayer shawl marked with Army insignias, to mail with the condolence letter sent to the soldier’s parents. Overcome by memories, Jack unfolds the Army tallit with its missing fringes. “I tried to do some good things in my life,” he says, eyes filling with tears. This tale of a treasured tallit with missing fringes strikes a chord for anyone drawn to Jewish history and values. Now comfortably settled into his new home at Landow House, Jack has returned to his cantorial roots, davening at Shabbat and Jewish holiday services on campus. And, when the voice of this big-hearted gentleman rings forth, he enriches our lives, much as he has throughout his long and meaningful lifetime.