On December 11, 2001 Irv Rubin was arrested by the federal government on charges of conspiring to blow up the King Fahd mosque in Los Angeles as well the office of congressman Darryl Issa, an Arab-American.
In the frenzy that followed 9/11, the government was hell-bent on proving how even-handed it could be. After all, authorities were rounding up suspected Al Qaeda members all across the country while President Bush kept repeating to us that this was not a war on Islam.
It didn’t take long before the government came up with the perfect scapegoat: The one person it had been trying to get rid of for years, that pesky Jewish militant out in Los Angeles.
One little problem remained, however. Jewish Defense League national chairman Irv Rubin was not a criminal and did not engage in criminal activities. He was never convicted of a crime, nor had he ever spent any time in prison. To overcome that little problem, a young punk with a rap sheet a mile long was wired and sent in to speak to Irv and his longtime associate Earl Krugel about bombing an Arab mosque.
Irv’s voice was only on a few of the tapes and, according to his lawyers, he said nothing that could be construed as conspiring to perform a criminal act.
Irv and I corresponded on a regular basis during his incarceration at the Metropolitan Detention Center in Los Angeles. He was there because the judge assigned to his case revoked Irv and Earl’s constitutional right to bail, claiming that they were both a flight risk and a danger to the community.
Irv’s letters to me smacked of resolve to have himself vindicated in a court of law. He knew he was innocent of the charges leveled against him and wanted the world to see him exonerated. Yes, prison life is rough on anyone and Irv was not a happy camper in prison, yet it is my firm and unwavering belief that Irv Rubin did not commit suicide in prison as the media and the FBI and the prison authorities would have you believe.
The authorities would have us believe that on the morning of November 4, 2002, the very morning Irv Rubin was to appear in court, he took a disposable razor and began slashing his throat, then hurled himself over a perch or balcony, falling 18 feet on to a concrete surface. Now, isn’t that just a bit interesting and coincidental.
We all know that Irv was a high profile prisoner. We all know that a lot of people wanted Irv Rubin dead. When Irv’s attorneys and his wife demanded a full and independent investigation of what really occurred that fateful day in prison, the FBI responded that it had interviewed
15 witnesses who swore that Irv’s injuries were self-inflicted. And who, pray tell, did they interview? Other inmates and prison guards. So much for highly credible witnesses.
To add insult to injury, when the Federal Bureau of Prisons was asked to turn over the videotapes of what occurred, they flatly stated that no videotapes existed — this, bear in mind, in a prison where you can’t walk two feet without having yourself filmed.
Please know that the legacy of Irv Rubin will not be that of a man who attempted suicide and succeeded. Not as long as we all have a voice to speak, a pen to write with and feet to demonstrate with.
Irv Rubin was above all my good and close friend for better than 20 years. I first met him in the late 1970’s when he visited New York City on JDL business. I’ll always remember his warmth, his passion and zeal for his people, his complete and utter devotion to JDL and his sincere and heartfelt sensitivity to Jewish suffering.
I knew a man who did not possess any fear of his enemies. And believe me, those enemies were quite numerous and very vocal: Nazis and skinheads, Holocaust revisionists and Klansmen, Arab terrorists and Soviet operatives — even, sad to say, some elements of the Jewish establishment.
Irv never cowered in fear, he never retreated from his righteous position. He stood firm and stared his enemies in the face. That was Irv Rubin. A man who never batted an eyelash about getting in the middle of a confrontation with all sorts of white supremacists; a man who never showed any ambivalence about bringing issues before a court of law and using the legal system to fight his battles; a man who was indeed a lonely voice in the wilderness.
Irv was the very embodiment of the concept of Ahavat Yisrael — love of the Jewish people, love of the land of Israel, love of the G-d of Israel. Irv was a proud Zionist, never more so than when Vanessa Redgrave publicly called him a “Zionist hoodlum.” Irv was a proud Jew, even when Nazi thugs threatened to turn him into a lampshade. That was Irv Rubin.
Most of all, I’ll always remember the places Irv and I demonstrated together for Jewish causes. Whether it was San Francisco to decry Jesse Jackson’s prominent role at the 1984 Democratic convention after he’d called Jews “Hymies” and embraced Yasir Arafat; or Teaneck, to picket a Jew-hating City College professor; or Oslo, to condemn the suicidal “peace plan,” Irv Rubin was there.
Jewish history will, please G-d, record all his noble deeds. If our children ask us to describe the concept of Ahavat Yisrael, if they ask us to describe the true meaning of Jewish activism, if they ask us about the heroes of our people, we need only point to the living legacy of Irv Rubin. A man who exemplified bravery, courage, devotion and unbounded love of his people, his family, his friends. A beloved husband and father, a tireless Jewish fighter. That was Irv Rubin.
Goodbye, my friend Irv. You are sorely, sorely missed. Until we meet again.
