13  October 31st, 1946

Link to Forverts edition

I pair up with Abba Schoengold to play theater in Boston and get a big surprise. – When the famous Morris Gest from Broadway was a messenger-boy in the Yiddish theater.

There is so much to say about the famous Yiddish actors of those times, but I have to add one thing: they did not limit themselves to New York as the only city where you could play Yiddish theater. They thought that in America, there are endless cities with Jews, and Yiddish theater should be played there not only after the end of the New York season, but also during the season, exactly as they did in New York.

This started because even the well-known Yiddish actors of those times always had to be on the lookout for ways to make a living. In addition, it was often difficult for them to empathize with one another because of professional jealousy. So, throughout their journey traveling around the cities, they were always looking for opportunities to have greater prestige than in New York. And in their travels, they made Yiddish theater popular among the Jewish public in America and, as they say today, they “spread the Jewish word.”

All the beauty of the how Yiddish theater was once performed across the country accomplished something - if among the long-standing¹ Jews in America who are estranged from us find themselves remembering from long ago a beautiful Yiddish tune, an old one, and because of that feel more connected to the Jewish people, the traveling actors of old certainly had a part in that.

That’s how I think of it. And there is no doubt in my mind that many who are familiar with the history of the Yiddish theater in America will agree that I am right.

Among the actors, who traveled a lot across America and played everywhere there was a considerable Jewish population, was also Abba Schoengold, one of the first pioneers who created the Yiddish theater. He was by nature one of those who was always looking for something, and even though he was lazy in his pursuit, there was something in him that reminded me of an artistic pursuit.

I remember once, in the middle of winter, just when I was in Brownsville having great troubles, Abba Schoengold came to me with something great:

– Kasten, you don’t have to worry anymore; We are going to Boston!

– And what will we do in Boston?

– What do you mean? We will play theater there and we will earn money.

At that time, he was so involved in the plan he had devised, that he just didn’t listen to what I was talking to him, and he told me that they were going to play Joseph Lateiner’s Di Farblondzhete Neshome². And in the play, he said, you will play Shmuel’ikel³ and she, your wife, will play Bobele, and mark my words - it will be good!

He even gave me something on the spot to persuade me that it would be good - five dollars.

– Take a fiver - he said - and it’s agreed!…

I didn’t talk to him at all about salary. There was nothing to say, because they were playing for “stamps”⁴. It was just a question of what kind of stamp should be set for me. But I didn’t open my mouth to ask anything about it, because given my situation, I should stay silent and not argue with anyone about what stamp was set for me.

After playing the first week in Boston, Abba Schoengold brought me a bag of money, and when I counted it and saw that it was a sum of $275, I literally couldn’t believe my eyes, and I remained sitting in a daze.

– Schoengold, - I started speaking as if I was not sure what I wanted to say - Schoengold, maybe there is a mistake? Maybe…could it be… eh?… It is possible this was miscalculated…?

Schoengold clearly thought that I was not satisfied and he got angry with me:

– Oh, it’s already starting! - he grimaced - There is no error in the amount; Everything was calculated correctly, and according to the “stamp,” both you and your wife get $275 for this week. What do you want? Huh?

And when he went out, he gave a wave with his hand:

– Don’t act like such a fool!⁵…

This was the first time that I had earned so much money in one week in the Yiddish theater, and my joy was so great that, if I weren’t so ashamed of myself, I would have danced for joy.

When I told my wife how much money Schoengold had given me for the first week, tears welled up in her eyes for joy, and she quietly, and with a pious expression, said, “Nu it’s really about time things looked up. And may God help so that it doesn’t get worse again later…”

But after the $275 in the first week, it was the same as with that poor boy who carries Purim shalach-manes⁶; The second week, we received less than before, and the third week - even less. And so it all went more and more downhill, and during the few weeks that fell before Pesach, it was really bad. It was difficult to make ends meet. And as usual when this happens, the actors in the troupe began to quarrel. They fought over roles, they fought over the calculations for the “stamps,” and the went around and around until there was no naches⁷ left to have.

As far as Abba Schoengold could, he did everything in his power to try and keep the peace in the troupe. But it was difficult. He was not always successful.

At that time, behind the curtains of the Yiddish Theater in Boston, a young man who everyone called Moishe hung around. Nobody knew his last name and nobody ever cared to know, because they saw him merely as some kind of an annoyance, a nuisance, who had ingratiated himself with the theater because he enjoyed waiting on the actors. In his submissiveness, he obeyed everyone, and whenever you had to send something somewhere, or run an errand, he was treated like the messenger boy. Behind the curtain, you’d often hear a voice from some other dressing room:

– Moishe! Hey, Moishe!

And soon you’d see Moishe running towards the voice, ready to obey, ready to serve.

From then on, the young poor boy Moishe took care of everyone’s little needs. And since he was a good person by nature, no one took advantage of him or asked for anything more than was necessary.

Moishele viewed me and my wife as if we were part of his family. Since we could not afford to keep a maid and had no one to leave our child with at home, my wife had no other choice but to take our child with her to the rehearsals and also to the performances. She kept him with her in her dressing room, and every time she had to go on stage to play a scene, she called for Moishe to come take care of the him.

One time, when Moishe was putting the child to sleep and sitting quietly and watching over him, an actor sent him somewhere to fetch something. The child woke up crying, and when my wife came back from the stage into her dressing room, frightened, she started shouting at the top of her voice:

– Oi, Moishe! Where is Moishe?

When he came back later and she saw him, she let out her grievances, screaming at him why he left the child alone. Just then, I too ran in frightened, and since my heart was low and I was angry with myself and the whole world, I slapped Moishe…

Soon after I realized what I had done. But it had already happened. I could not take back the slap and poor Moishe stood in front of me dejected, offended, and I heard him say to me in the silence:

– You don’t need to strike me, Mr. Kasten… Why should you hit me?… I’m not guilty of this…

And looking at him, as he stands so pitiful and dejected, my heart was torn apart…

Years later, the same Moishe became one of the biggest - if not the biggest - impresario in the American theater world on Broadway. He was no longer called Moishe, but Morris - Morris Gest. He was married to the daughter of the famous David Belasco, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that he, Moishe who wandered about behind the curtains of the Yiddish theater in Boston and later became Morris Gest, played a major role in the English theater in America reaching such a high artistic level; he brought the famous Moscow Art Theater, which the great Stanislavski created, to America. He also brought Max Reinhardt’s German troupe, which performed the best things in the world’s repertoire, and in general Morris Gest accomplished grandiose spectacles which are a special chapter of their own in the history of American theater.

It did not occur to anyone at that time that he, Moishele, the errand boy, would rise so high and occupy such a prominent place. This occurred to me less than anyone when I slapped him unjustifiably for nothing…

But my heart was low at the time and people could not hold me responsible for what I did in a moment of anger. The bad business in the theater upset me so much that I was always angry. And when it was clear that I couldn’t take it anymore, I left Boston and went back to Brownsville, even though I didn’t know why I was going there and what was in store for me there…

The only thing that attracted me to Brownsville was that it was close to New York. And New York has always drawn me to it like a magnet.

---

1. perhaps this implies assimilated: אלט–געזעסענע

2. “The Lost/Wandering Soul”. According to Joseph Rumshinsky’s account of Yiddish theater history, this play was based on the German play The Night Wanderer.

3. A character in the show, unrelated to the fact that this is Sam’s haimishe name.

4. Recall, a system where each actor gets a pre-specified percentage of profits

5. or, “don’t be ridiculous”

6. שלח–מנות; Basket of gifts/sweets you give to family and friends at Purim. I am assuming there is a Yiddish parable/short story about a poor boy who brings them around and the following happens?

7. joy, happiness