Rosalie Rosenzwog was barely in her 20s when she began knocking on doors across Baltimore, asking neighbors to give what they could for Jewish refugees after World War II. Most gave small change; some offered only prayers. For her, those early campaigns with The Associated Jewish Charities set the pattern for a lifetime of service — raising funds, organizing women and building community one conversation at a time.
Rosenzwog died on Oct. 14 in Baltimore. She was 97. A devoted mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, she built a life anchored in Jewish commitment, hospitality and leadership in the city she loved.
Born April 22, 1928, in Baltimore to Nathan and Lena Cummins, she grew up near Park Circle, where her family worked long hours in a small hardware store that later became Cummins Appliance. Money was tight, and her mother often staffed the shop while her father — warm and soft-spoken — thrived on the sales floor. From him, Rosalie absorbed kindness and a gift with people; from her mother, strength and independence.
The family kept kosher for the sake of a grandmother who would not eat there otherwise. Jewish identity was a given. Formal bat mitzvahs were not offered to girls then, but she studied Hebrew alongside her brother and excelled in school, earning advanced credits and expecting to pursue social work.
As a teenager during World War II, she followed news of the Holocaust and spoke passionately with her parents that something had to be done. The experience deepened her resolve to support Jewish causes and, after the war, led her to The Associated, where she began her lifelong involvement. “That was important,” her son, Stuart Rosenzwog, recalled.
“She started early and never stopped.” She later chaired the Women’s Philanthropy arm (then the Women’s Division) twice and became known as a diplomatic, organized leader who inspired others to give.
She met and married Ira Rosenzwog in her late teens. The two were partners in every sense. They made a warm, open home in Baltimore, learning Shabbat observance from Ira’s mother and hosting Friday night dinners that became a family institution lasting well into her 80s. “It was important for her that everyone feel comfortable,” said her grandson Alex Rosenzwog. “She’d cook four or five different meals so that guests with different needs weren’t left out.” Those dinners reflected her values: Bring people close, welcome the stranger and make room.
The couple’s giving followed the same pattern. Both Rosalie and Ira loved tennis and believed in its power to bring people together, so they supported Israel Tennis and Education Centers serving children across the Jewish state. After their son faced encephalitis and later epilepsy as a boy, they turned to advocacy and fundraising for the Epilepsy Association of Maryland. Following her husband’s death in 1988, Rosenzwog helped establish the Ira Rosenzwog Memorial Scholarship Fund at the Epilepsy Foundation, helping students with epilepsy to pursue college or vocational training. “It has helped people who otherwise couldn’t get there,” Alex Rosenzwog said. “Giving was a reward to her.”
Her community work extended beyond fundraising. She volunteered in her children’s schools, served on the Sisterhood board of Chizuk Amuno Synagogue in Pikesville and supported efforts that strengthened Jewish life at home and abroad. She believed a strong, safe Israel was essential after what she had witnessed as a teenager. She traveled there many times — on missions and personal visits — and backed programs that helped Jews resettle from places of danger, including Ethiopia. “Throughout Jewish history, there haven’t been many places that protect Jews,” her grandson Alex said. “To her, Israel meant people could feel comfortable and safe — and she wanted to do her part.”
In her 40s, Rosenzwog returned to college to complete her degree at the University of Maryland, promising her husband she would settle for Bs so they wouldn’t have to give up their time together. As an older student, she became an informal mentor to classmates who sought her advice. The return to campus reflected a through-line in her life: Keep learning, keep growing, keep showing up for people.
Leadership came naturally to her. In Women’s Philanthropy, she organized teams of volunteers who solicited gifts for The Associated. “She was very organized,” her son said. “And sociable enough to be with many people.” She understood that building community was about shared purpose as much as dollars. Decades ago, she was one of the first to endow her Lion of Judah gift, ensuring her support for Jewish causes would continue. She also inspired friends and acquaintances to become active themselves. One woman later told the family that, after meeting Rosenzwog, she began volunteering and giving in her own community.
When Ira died at 60, she grieved deeply, then rebuilt her life — family first, friends close by and volunteer work ongoing. With her longtime companion, Arnold Fleischmann, she found companionship, travel and a second circle of family she cherished.
Those who knew her describe a consistent ethic that linked her kitchen table to the wider community: Make people feel seen, give until it helps and carry Jewish life forward.
“She represented loving thy neighbor,” Alex Rosenzwog said. “Whether it was the person helping her with her bag at a hotel or a state dignitary, she always believed in greeting everyone with a warm smile and an open heart.”
Ellen Braunstein is a freelance writer.
