The Washington times., 1933-08-29
with JACOB BEN-AMD

Life is just one cycle after
another. You find that out
WHEN you begin travelling down
memory lane. There was that
wild dream of mine-at the
tender age of 10 when 1 was
singing in choir in Minsk
(RuSSia) of magnificent, thrill
ing spectacles in which 1 was
always the pivotal figure. That
dream is only now about to be
realized, and though I'm hot
the central hero, I'm satisfied
that at least have a hand in
directing the mammoth pageant
"The Romance of a People"
My parents were devoutly
orthodox and considered every
thing theatrical as evil. They
sanctioned my choir work, hop
ing, I suppose, that I would
y become a cantor. But my. am
bitions held no place for halle
1ujahs" and "amens." I was
going to be a clown when
grew up! Already was train
ing myself, attending every
market fair and street circus
that came to town-and there
! were plenty. I felt that I was
certainly on the road to fame
when one of the circus men let
me grind the hand organ. But
my grandfather put short shift
to that. Or I might still be at
that organ.
My frustrated ambitions were
quickly forgotten when our
choir was hired to sing behind
the wings Of a Russian play
house. There I got my first
>.yht Of a real theater and
nothing else existed for me
after that. My voice began to
change from soprano to some
thing like a baritone and a new
problem began to plague me.
Should I study for the opera
or the drama? The decision,
shortly after, was involuntary.
I hadn't even a baritone, I dis
covered, and so, perforce, I
chose drama.
I became a super in that
troupe, and though I felt that
I could certainly have played
all the leading roles my first
real part did not come until
the end of the season-and
then it was a silent one. But
I was so carried away with it
that I improvised my own lines
and dragged it out so long
that the others threatened to
throw me out. 1t was sheer
impertinence, but it focused
the attention of the director
on me and I won an engage
ment for the next season.
While on tour, I met Peretz
Hirshbein, who was later to be
hailed as the "Yiddish Maeter-
Nnck," then an idealiStic youth
like myself. Both of us hated
the YiddiSh theater Of that day
with its cheap melodrama and
cheaper sentiment and we set
out to establish the first the
ater of serious art. 1t was a
grand adventure. Amazing how
- dreamy youth could live on
three meals q week and be so
gIOriOusIy happy! But the Op-
presSive CZarist regime cut it
short at the end Of two years.
Plays in pure Yiddish were
banned and though we tried to
give the GermaniZed versions
which were permitted, we were
still suspected Of being revolu-
tiOnary. There were times
when we r aged to an audience
half Of which were the Cars
detectives.
Pleading letters from my
mother, already in New York,
urged me to Join her. But I
believed, with he others, that
America was money-mad and
the butcher of art, and re-
fused. However, when Sarah
Adler, wife of the famous
tragedian Jacob Adler and
mother Of Stella and Luther,
invited me to appear in her
new Novelty Theater in Brook
lyn I took the next boat. I'm
ashamed to confess that while
my mothers pleas were in vain,
the fact that I would be on
the same stage with Rudolph
Schildkraut, god of Reinhardt'S
Deutches Theater, who was
with Mrs. Adler, was enough
to bring me.
New York was a bitter dis
illusionment. The Yiddish
theater, I found, was even
worse than abroad. Not until
I met the ewisohn sisters
Alice and Irene-and presented
a season of serious Jewish
drama at their Neighborhood
Playhouse-waS my faith in
the American theater revived.