munger

Wendesday Apr 2

by

Movie & home
Sent home to parents $10.00

It is funny how I am trying
to pass my idle hours,
nothing seems to cheer me.

Its a period of one great
longing for me.

—————-

Matt’s Notes

Movies Papa might have seen in this day included:

  • Sporting Youth, a car-racing comedy starring Reginald Denny (“a good-looking, virile young man who does not overact,” according to the New York Times)
  • Try And Get It, a farce about competing salesmen, accompanied by a short film of boxing match recreations called Great Moments in Great Battles (the latter sounds more interesting to me)
  • Woman to Woman, a Moulin Rouge drama with Betty Compson condemmed by the Times for its overuse of rain effects, a bad habit perpetuated, unfortunately, by modern movies
  • Three Weeks, an adaptation of an Elinor Glyn novel by the same name (Papa probably saw this if he was in the mood for a first-run movie at a big movie palace, since it was playing at The Capitol Theater, one of his preferred venues)
  • Beau Brummel, starring John Barrymore in the title role and Mary Astor as Lady Margery
  • Virtuous Liars, a light comedy dismissed by the Times as “a modern entertainment, the story of which does not bear close scrutiny.”

Papa’s local theaters like the Loews Delancey or the Clinton Theatre probably showed movies a few weeks after they had opened rather than first-run movies, so if he was in the mood to pass his “idle hours” in the neighborhood he might have seen:

  • The Covered Wagon
  • America
  • Secrets
  • The Thief of Bagdad
  • The Ten Commandments

And for those of you just joining us, note that Papa’s $10 disbursement to his family back in the old country was larger than usual. He was no doubt worried about his father’s ongoing convalescence from an injury sustained in a fall a few weeks earlier. This, along with a bevy of romantic woes including his infatuation with an aloof woman named Henriette, would have contributed to his ongoing malaise.

—————–

Additional notes

We’ve talked about the Loews Delancey Theatre and Clinton Theatre before. Both were within walking distance of Papa’s apartment on Attorney Street.

Thursday Apr 3

by

Met Miss Beck, she is
a fine girl, Really something
is wrong with me, Why do
I always go to the farthest
points in the city for certain
girls company, when I can
have some within my grasp.

Miss Beck is my neighbor
and I like her company
I will make an effort
to see her often, as she
told me that I am always
welcome to come up the house.

——————-

Matt’s Notes

I think it would be easy to dismiss Papa’s observation about himself — “why do I always go to the farthest points in the city for certain girls company when I can have some within my grasp” — as a variation on the complaint of a certain type of single New Yorker who claims to want to settle down but who, for whatever reason, just keeps playing.

I don’t think it’s that easy, though. My mother recently told me that Papa had a reputation in my family as a “ladies man,” which may well be how he outwardly appeared. We know he was good-looking, well-dressed, and socially active, and he seemed to suffer no shortage of dates and even dramatic encounters with secret admirers despite his intense, inner loneliness.

I think what we may be observing here as he agonizes over the birds in the bush is the flip side of his capacity for idealism. We’ve already observed his tendency to idealize — causes, Presidents, his past, the lives of others — and I think he applied it to women as well. Henriette, the woman for whom Papa’s been pining for days, may well be beautiful and socially ambitious, but, as my mother observes, “she was only a poor girl from the Bronx, after all, who may have had a high school education, if that,” and certainly not worthy of descriptions like “the perfect 20th Century Girl” with “eyes of enchantment” who “stands above other women.”

This idealized image was, I think, what made Papa’s crush on Henriette so hard on him. She may have stood above other women in his eyes, but as a side effect she also stood above him. In contrast to her, he saw himself as a “poor dog,” a “wage earner” who had no right to expect anything of her, which was of course unreasonable; it’s not like he was some groundskeeper in a British novel who wanted to marry the daughter of his lord and master. He was just a struggling Jewish immigrant from the Lower East Side who wanted to date someone from his same social caste. But unlike his neighbor Miss Beck, whose proximity allowed him to see her in less-than-ideal condition once in a while, Henriette lived far away and could only be observed on occasion; she made a perfect target for his idealization, and, unfortunately, an inadvertent trigger for his sense of romantic hopelessness.

What I don’t understand, and will keep thinking about, his how Papa’s idealistic nature remained intact but evolved into something more constructive as he grew older. Idealists may find themselves disappointed on occasion, but they also have the capacity to be forgiving, resilient, thrilled by little things — the very qualities that made him such a fine activist, dedicated husband and father, and memorable grandfather. When, and how, did this evolution occur? Are we all capable of such change?

Friday Apr 4

by

Visited Clara at hospital
and Max Breindel,

Max is really besides
a relative a good friend
He is not like some
others of the family

—————–

Matt’s Notes

As noted in a previous post, Max Breindel is the man who met Papa and his sitter Nettie at Ellis Island when they first arrived from the old country. Max also invited them to stay in his apartment, where they shared a bed with his children, sleeping head-by-toe, until they could find a place of their own. Papa always recalled this as a great, adventurous time in his life, and I think his kind words about Max reveal his ongoing gratitude. (Check out the Lower East Side Tenement Museum’s tenement tour to get a better idea of what their living quarters must have been like.)

I don’t know whom Papa refers to when he says “some others of the family” are not as good as Max, but it’s about as harsh a statement as he ever makes. Perhaps he means his brother Isaac, the previous recipient of a disapproving nod for pressuring Papa from the old country for money. I also know his sisters Nettie and Clara didn’t get along, so I wonder if Nettie earned a demerit for some kind of misbehavior or lack of interest while Clara was in hospital with her newborn son.

I’m also trying to figure out if it was unusual back then for an immigrant woman to stay in the hospital for so long after giving birth (it’s been eight days now). Papa had expressed surprise at how early his nephew was born, so maybe there was some sort of medical complication. Then again, a week or more might have been a normal post-childbirth stay in 1924; as always, if anyone reading this knows a little more, please post a comment or send an e-mail.

Saturday Apr 5

by


Attended circumcision of Clara’s
baby at Hospital where he was
named Julius (Yiddish)

Afternoon I went rowing
with Jack Breitbart in Prospect
Park, the warmest day this
spring, it certainly was
refreshing.

I met and took home Miss
Schneiderman from South Bklyn

She is a nice girl and I made
a date with her for an outing
next Sunday at Palisades Park

She is refined but a quiet girl
well bred, and I expect to enjoy
a lot of her company next Sunday.

I have even been invited by
her parents to call often.

——-

Matt’s Notes

Papa wrote his new nephew Julius’ name in Yiddish in the third line of this entry. My wife, who knows about such things, thinks it says “Yussel,” but in any event it looks like this:

Yesterday I wondered whether Clara’s ten-day hospital stay after giving birth to Julius was unusual, but my mother thinks it was typical: “I believe women stayed in the hospital for ten days in those times. I have a distant memory of Nana telling me that her ‘confinement’ was ten days…” I’ll keep trying to confirm this.

Meanwhile, the malaise to which Papa has been confined for the last couple of weeks appears to be lifting, aided by the 65-degree weather and his pal Jack Breitbart. I’m starting to like Jack because he always shows up when wholesome fun is in the offing; the other week he unexpectedly materialized with opera tickets in hand, and now he joins Papa for an invigorating row in Prospect Park (he’s kind of like the Tony Roberts character in a Woody Allen movie). We can only assume Papa wore his straw boater for the occasion, to wit:

And here’s a shot of the lake in Prospect Park between 1910 and 1920:


Image source: The Lower lake, Prospect Park, Brooklyn, N.Y. Library of Congress call # LC-D4-72148

Prospect Park is, of course, in Brooklyn, so Papa must have gone out there in preparation to meet “Miss Schneiderman from South Bklyn.” I assume he was set up with her by Jack Breitbart, who introduced them, perhaps, by the Park’s “Rustic Boathouse” before sauntering off:


Image source: Prospect Park Archives

Papa’s description of Miss Schneiderman as “refined but quiet” may imply a slightly unfavorable comparison to the opinionated, vivacious Henriette (a.k.a. the “20th Century Girl“) with whom he’s been recently preoccupied, but at least he’s lightening up a bit. Looks like he dropped her off at her parents’ home in “South Brooklyn” (he must mean the Brighton Beach area, where he would later raise his family) and made a favorable impression on them, so stay tuned.

—————

Additional References

For more historical images of Prospect Park, check out their well-organized archives at http://www.prospectpark.org/hist/archives.html.

Sunday Apr 6

by

All day long real April showers,
Spent a great deal of my time
at home, pasting in some
new pictures in my album,
which contains episodes of my
broken romances, looking them
over a thought comes to my mind
of a happiness that would have
been, but most of my tragic
episodes will probably never
be recorded in pictures.

Spent the remainder at
some Zionist districts in
a most monotonous mood.

Always blues, blues, even the radio
is sending me blues through
the air.

Henriette did not yet answer my letter
She is slowly drifting out of my mind
like many others who dissappointed
me.

—————-

Matt’s Notes

Internet access is spotty for me today, so I’ll post this entry without comments for the moment (though the image of Papa sitting at home, pasting photos in an album and listening to the blues while torrential rain falls outside may speak for itself).

Update 4/7:

Jim, who runs the music department here at Papa’s Diary Project, says that if Papa heard blues on the radio in 1924, there’s a good chance it was something by Bessie Smith. Here’s a sample of one of her big 1923 hits called “Down Hearted Blues” from Last.fm:

And here’s a 1923 recording of “Who’s Sorry Now” from Archive.org:

Monday Apr 7

by


Another unimportant day
home and radio.

The Gypsy String Orchestra
entertained me from the air.

Every night going to bed
reading, newspapers usually
the “News” until I get sleepy,
and so it goes night after night.

Here within the confines of my
little nest, I spend my dreary
hours dreaming,

Here many [of my] youthful dreams
were vanished.

————–

Matt’s Notes

After a brief respite two days ago, Papa’s malaise has returned in full force. Yesterday he admitted to himself that Henriette, a.k.a. the 20th Century Girl, was not going to respond to the letter of affection he wrote her a week earlier. He had idealized and become infatuated with her quite quickly, so this sudden acceptance of her disinterest, or at least his realization that she was human, unreliable, and not inclined to behave exactly as he needed her to, would have left him a bit bereft. (I expect most idealists and daydreamers would recognize this cycle of excitement and disappointment.)

I wonder, too, if the recent birth of Papa’s nephew had, in some way, attenuated his longing for a family of his own, or for that matter his own family (including his ailing father) back in Eastern Europe. I suppose the music of the “Gypsy String Orchestra” wouldn’t have helped his homesickness any, especially if it sounded as wistful as this:

Speculation aside, we know it was not unusual for Papa to suffer bouts of melancholy or for the ghosts of his “vanished” dreams to haunt him when he was home alone. If only a ghost from the future could have visited and said

Papa, this is you:

——————

Additional notes:

When Papa mentions the news of the day in this entry, he capitalizes the word “News” and writes it in quotation marks (note the older-style placement of the opening quote to the lower left of the quoted term):

Why did he do this? Was “News” considered a vernacular term back then when used to refer to the contents of a newspaper? Or did he quote the term because it was new to him and he wasn’t quite sure if he was using it right?

Regardless, the “News” Papa read before retiring that day would have provided plenty of additional fuel for his blue mood. Some of the less encouraging headlines included:

Note that the stories about the Nazi party’s rising influence came on the heels of the recently-concluded Beer Hall Putsch trial (Hitler had just received an incredibly light sentence for trying to overthrow the German government, the surest sign yet of his rising influence and popularity). I must admit I didn’t have this in mind when it occurred to me to list potentially upsetting New York Times headlines from April 7, 1924, but I’m sure Papa was preoccupied with the implications.

—————–

References:

Papa mentions “The Gypsy String Orchestra” in this entry, and while I was able to find some 1940-ish references to an ensemble by that name at the Museum of Television and Radio, I’m not sure if they existed as such in the 1920’s or if Papa just used a generic term to describe the type of music he heard. In any event, the clip I included above is called “Hungarian Folksong Melody” and is, according to archive.org, a 1914 recording by Berkes Bela.

Tuesday Apr 8

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I met on my way to work [I met] C.
How different she looks now
She lost weight and looks bad,

Saw Clara home from hospital

———————

Matt’s Notes

Poor “C.” Perhaps Papa hid her name because she was an old flame or had inspired a bout of infatuation in her younger, plumper days. He certainly didn’t suffer any shortage of might-have-beens after 11 years in New York — he runs into them here and there, goes on blind dates, and can even make a day of wistfully pasting their pictures in a photo album — so the smart money has “C.” among their ranks.

I don’t mean to minimize Papa’s loneliness or imply that he left New York littered with the prostrate forms of Harry Scheurman groupies who did nothing all day but drink absinthe and fondle his old neckties. I’m just starting to think he was tormented more by his pursuit of a perfect, and perfectly unattainable, romance than by any difficulty in meeting women. As I’ve mentioned before, his idealism was a mixed blessing at this stage of his life; it drove him to help change the world, but it also kept him personally disappointed. How he finally developed the right mix of idealism and realism, how he discovered the difference between what he wanted and what he needed, and how he learned to feel satisfied with what he had without sacrificing his ability to seek more is not yet clear to me.