When Rabbi Lawrence Goldmark started his job at Temple Beth Ohr in 1979, people told him “‘It’s a nice place. You’ll be there for a year or two, then you’ll go on to a very large place.’” That’s not what happened: After 29 years leading the La Mirada congregation, Rabbi Goldmark retired. 

Sitting in a La Mirada coffee shop, Rabbi Goldmark looked back at his career. After 10 years as an assistant rabbi at Wilshire Boulevard Temple “I was looking to go solo,” he said.  “I put in here. I drove down the Santa Ana Freeway, got lost a couple times. They interviewed me. They liked what they saw, and I took the position.” And when the young rabbi and 250-family Beth Ohr met each other, it was love at first sight.

His path to the rabbinate was not that straightforward. He was ordained in 1969 —  the Vietnam War meant there was a need for Jewish chaplains in the military. “Two reasons could prevent me from going into the military,” said the rabbi. “One was physical, 4F. And two, it was against my conscience to serve in the military.” Neither applied to Rabbi Lawrence Goldmark. Still newlyweds, Goldmark and his wife Carol moved to Ft. Benning, Georgia, where he was assigned for two years. While serving there, their older son was born.

Talking about his two sons, Goldmark sounds like a proud father. They’re “extraordinarily talented, but very different,” he said. Joshua, his older son, is a police dispatcher in Southern California with a wife and dog. His younger brother Daniel is a professor of music at Case Western Reserve, in Cleveland, Ohio, where he is dean of the School of Liberal Arts. His wife has a Ph.D. in social work and teaches at Cleveland State. “They have two gorgeous children, a boy, 18, and a daughter, 14. They are the joys of our life.”

Growing up, Goldmark attended Temple Israel of Hollywood with the legendary Rabbi Max Nussbaum (1908-1974). “I was confirmed there, and here is the story,” Goldmark said. “The night before confirmation with 24 other students, there was a private ceremony called consecration. Max Nussbaum spoke to each member of the confirmation class with the parents standing next to the confirmand. “When he got to me, he said ‘Larry, I want you to become a rabbi.’ I almost fainted. There are no rabbis in my family, my Yiddish-speaking parents are from Poland. … I basically saluted him and said ‘Yes, sir.’”

Goldmark moved among giants of the Reform world. “It was Max Nussbaum and Lewis Barth who influenced me,” he said. “About a year after my confirmation, the junior rabbi at that time was Rabbi William Kramer. He said to me, ‘Let’s look at some place you might like to teach.’ So I went and taught at Wilshire Boulevard Temple. I also was a counselor at the late, great Camp Hess Kramer and so on. I got to meet Rabbi Edgar Magnin, but I didn’t know him.”

Looking back, he said Rabbi Magnin obviously was an influential person. “However, I must tell you the person whom I really was influenced by was Rabbi Alfred Wolf. He was always the second rabbi there, but he used the name of Edgar Magnin and Wilshire Boulevard Temple to achieve many of his goals.” From Rabbi Wolf, he learned how he could get people — whether it was Henry Winkler or the dean of the USC Law School — to come to the temple: Ask them to speak to students.

He also mastered the eight magic words: “’By the way, I am Rabbi Magnin’s assistant.’ Then people would say, in so many words, ‘What time do you want me to show up?’” Another lesson was that “one of the ways you get a famous person to speak at your synagogue is to use a magic word, which is ‘youth.’ People will come — stars will come — if they know they are not going to have to put on an act and do something for adults. But they will come when they know they will be able to speak to young people.”

Rabbi Goldmark reflected on a scene with actor Henry Winkler, The Fonz, one Sunday morning. “It was fabulous,” the rabbi said. “He spoke to the kids in grades 10, 11 and 12 about self-respect. The students looked at him as a role model.” The best part was: “I was walking him to his car and he said ‘What’s in that room?’ I said ‘Kindergarten and first-graders are having an assembly.’ He wanted to go in. We entered through the back, went onto the stage and I said, ‘Boys and girls, I’d like you to meet Henry Winker, The Fonz.’ He could have said ‘Boys and girls, I am busy.’ But he did the opposite. Winkler stood there and said ‘Boys and girls, I want you to brush your teeth every night. I want you to listen to your parents.’ He took on the role of a rabbi.”

So why did he leave high-profile Wilshire Boulevard? In 1978, on his birthday, the day after Rosh Hashannah, Rabbi Goldmark walked into Rabbi Magnin’s office. “I asked him how he was feeling. He was 81. He said, ‘Larry, congratulations on your birthday, but I think it’s time for you to go out on your own.’”

Rabbi Goldmark can now react to that remark with a laugh. Not then. Just 36, “I was shocked.” He stayed for several months — before going to La Mirada.

Fast Takes with Rabbi Goldmark

Jewish Journal: Was it difficult to step down from the pulpit?

Rabbi Goldmark: No. I found I had served Temple Beth Ohr for nearly 30 years. I was 65 years of age. I said [he shrugs], It’s okay. It’s time. That chapter was over.

J.J.: Do you have unmet goals?

RG: I find that at 82-plus, I don’t have a bucket list because I have achieved my dreams. My wife and I have traveled. My goals are to be of help and comfort to my rabbinic colleagues, whom I love dearly. 

J.J.: Your favorite moment of the week?

RG: My favorite day of the week is when my wife and I celebrate our anniversary. Caro and I met on a blind date on a Saturday. Recently, I said to her, why do we only celebrate our anniversary once a year? Why don’t we celebrate it once a week to commemorate our first date?