He changed lives: Popular San Rafael High School teacher, Allan Barahal, dies at 105

Allan Barahal August 31, 1920 – May 18, 2025

San Rafael High School history and philosophy teacher, longshoreman, union organizer, world traveler and devoted husband and father.

Allan Barahal was born in Toledo, Ohio to Barney and Ester Barahal (née Blitz), both Eastern European Jewish immigrants.  He grew up in a poor, working-class neighborhood in Detroit, Michigan.  Malnourished as a child, he took odd jobs as a newspaper delivery boy and a theatre usher to help his family make ends meet.  His deep love of music found expression in singing and praying at the synagogue.  He wanted to become a cantor.  While still a teenager, he delved into social activism, which stemmed from the fervent desire he held onto until the very end –  to make the world a better place.

Admitted to Harvard as one of the few working-class Jews allowed in, he began a doctoral program in history, knew Norman Mailer and was best friends with George L. Mosse, the well-known historian.  Realizing that the lofty “ivory tower” academic world wasn’t for him, he gave it all up.  

A  childhood bout of rickets disqualified Allan from fighting in WWII.  Instead, he joined the Merchant Marines and sailed to places like Murmansk and Odessa, carrying supplies to recently liberated Soviet territory.  

After the war, he worked with the United Auto Workers and other trade unions in Michigan where he met Anabel, the love of his life.  Marrying Anabel, who was not Jewish, meant breaking with tradition and family –  a hard decision.  The witness at their wedding, a friend named Erma Henderson (later a Detroit city council president), was turned away from the local restaurant where they were to celebrate because she was Black.  The entire wedding party walked out and organized a picket line that lasted seven weeks and helped break the color line in Detroit.  Later, the couple moved out to California and had two children, Jed and Rachel. After 14 years as a dock worker on the San Francisco waterfront, Allan finally found his true vocation – teaching.  Hundreds of students, many of whom became life-long friends, were inspired by him in his history and philosophy classes at San Rafael High School.  Allan was dynamic, passionate and cared deeply about education.  He wanted students to leave school with an idea of what they wanted to do with their lives, what they wanted the country to be like and to have a coherent philosophy of life.  He taught students to develop values with meaning.  In old age he still marveled at students confessing to him, “You changed my life!”  What a legacy to leave to the world!  On the eve of retirement, he sent this message to his students:

My grandmother used to tell me that above all, one should strive to be a “mensch” in this world.  In saying farewell to the students of San Rafael High School I hope too that each of you will become a “mensch.”  This is an old Yiddish expression which is difficult to translate but in general means to become a human being in the fullest sense of these words.  It means to make choices that are meaningful and authentic . . . to be aware that knowledge and truth are complex.  It means that a life just devoted to egoistic and selfish desires and needs is too narrow and that a “mensch” needs a commitment to ideals over and above the brute facts of existence.  A “mensch” brings zest and excitement to life but also realizes that to do something important often takes years of struggle and perhaps just dull daily routine.  And lastly, he needs courage to face disappointment and heartache, courage so that in spite of all, he will say yes to life.

In retirement, Allan crossed France and Ireland on bicycle with Anabel, hiked over mountains and deserts, and was totally independent until his mid-nineties.  Allan and Anabel were devoted grandparents, spending summers with their grandchildren and sharing with them their love of nature, music, art and travel.

Allan’s secret to longevity  was to always worry about people and the future until the very end. He suffered from it, but it kept him holding onto life.

Allan is survived by his children, Jed and Rachel, granddaughters Julia, Martina and Caroline, niece Wendy, nephews Mark and Ethan, grandnephews Asher and Matthew, and many, many wonderful first cousins.

Thanks, Allan, for changing so many people’s lives and for making the world a better place for everyone whose life you touched.  Your memory will always be a blessing