20th Century Girl

Sunday Mar 16

by

It was like a dream. My
last night’s experience, I will
try to have my dream repeated,

Visited Freidas children

Incidentally met the
Sherman sisters at Jeans house
Jean tells me that the Rose
Sh. cares for me which makes
me feel bad as I haven’t any
interest in her. —

I shall wait for the
certain girl and with certain
qualities.

I either I met her
or and I’m hopefull of meeting
her again or I am have yet
to find her.

———————

Matt’s Notes

Looks like Papa was officially smitten with the woman he met the night before, when he shared with her an epic, movie montage of a subway ride “from the farthest point in Brooklyn to the farthest point in the Bronx.” He couldn’t have slept much — he got home at 5:00 AM and I’m sure he was far too dutiful to be a late sleeper — but the first thing he did in the morning was grab his diary and get his excitement on paper. His romantic mind is hard at work, turning his encounter into “a dream,” something more than just a long ride, a memory he cherishes as if he were remembering it twenty years hence as the start of something big.

It’s quite a thing to be single and struggling in New York City. Every conversation is heady with potential, every flirtation could be the turn you took, every subway platform could be the stage for act I. (I went through a little Roosevelt Island Tram phase myself, though Papa’s aphrodisiac seems to have been the BMT.) And the more strange dramas the real world forces on you — your faraway father is ill, like Papa’s was, and you don’t even know what he looks like anymore — the more you believe the unexpected must work the other way, too, that a two-hour subway ride you didn’t see coming has the power to make everything different.

Wait: Papa was a living, breathing, young man, too, not just a nexus of plotlines and motivations; he had almost no choice but to get excited about the woman he’d met. I like this entry because it shows his excitement and immersion in this moment so clearly — the uncharacteristically hurried handwriting, the crossed-out letters, the free associative weighing of what happened to him the previous night. He reveals it in the way he discusses “Rose,” the woman cousin Jean is nudging him toward. She’s not his speed, he’s really sorry, but she just doesn’t have those “certain qualities” he’s looking for. But we know who does, right? Well, let’s not go that far, he tells himself, let’s be objective, “I shall wait for the certain girl,” whoever that might be, but in a flash he’s back to the night before: “I either met her, or am hopefull of meeting her again,” written as if they are two separate options but, of course, refer only to his subway companion.

He checks his tone one last time, cautioning himself that maybe “I have yet to find her,” but he can’t contain his excitement. He wants to have the “dream repeated.” Who could blame him, but who wouldn’t tell him to be careful?

Monday Mar 17

by


Movies & home

My only companion radio
is again entertaining me
this evening.

My heart is full of dreams,
I am longing for a girl to
love me sincerely.

I can’t bear the emptiness
of my life.

H. whom I met Saturday
is a girl that appeals to me
most. I’m planning inviting
her to the opera —

But have I the right as a
wage earner to propose to
a girl like her?

I’m happy in the thought
that she is my friend now
being having been introduced to me by
my friend Rothblum.

———————

Matt’s Notes

“Perhaps in the pursuit of action yesterday’s dream will be forgotten before the day is over…”

Papa wrote those words a few weeks earlier after staying out all night with friends and acquaintances from the old country. How well he knew himself, or at least enough to dread his own swings from dreaminess to disappointment.

And here it is again: Just day ago, lost in fantasies, Papa dared to think he’d met the woman who would change his world. Now he corrects himself abruptly, angrily, declares himself unworthy of her, prepares himself to settle for mere friendship. A day in the factory, an evening alone, a night with his humble possessions — radio, chair, photo of his faraway parents — have shamed him, dissolved his illusions.

To see this reminds me of why Papa’s diary feels so important to me. His beautiful, spare prose speaks richly of his struggle to reconcile what he wants with what he has and is worth reading in its own right. But taken in view of his whole life, it testifies to a deeper, more difficult struggle — the struggle for perspective familiar to those of us who swing between extremes of expectation and judgment.

Papa has as little reason to call his life “empty” as he does to think “H” can transform it, yet he is convinced each is true, and the contrast is unbearable to him. Still, we know he rode out the stormy swings of his inner life to become a man who conveyed and imparted a sense of modulation, realism, and calm. I have idealized Papa, but the more I read about him, the more I realize he must have always retained a trace of his internal changeability; perhaps it was, in part, his mastery of it that made him so remarkable. I’m certainly no stranger to the private, stormy swings he writes about. (Is anyone?) It’s good to think they might be worth it.

—————–

Additional Notes:

Movies Papa might have seen that night include:

  • The Thief of Bagdad
  • The Covered Wagon
  • Thy Name is Woman
  • The Hunchback of Notre Dame (I wonder if he saw this — it would have matched his mood)
  • The Great White Way
  • America
  • The Ten Commandments
  • A Society Scandal
  • Yolanda
  • The Hoosier Schoolmaster
  • The Fighting Coward

The New York Times also published an article that day on the potential of the “phonofilm,” or sound movie. Author Lee De Forest takes on those who doubt its prospects and makes a strong case for the use of sound movies in news reporting and political coverage. While he’s not sure how it might help dramatic films, he seems most excited about the potential use of music. It’s worth reading here.

Tuesday Mar 18

by


Spent the night with
Rothblum first motoring around
with him and Mrs. Rothblum
in their car, and discussing
the possibility of my further
aquaintance with Miss. H.

After taking Mrs. Rothblum
to her sisters apt. we spent the
night at 2nd Ave Baths

I have resolved to call H.
the 20th Century girl because
in my opinion she mentally
stands above other women
her gayety, full of pep, and I’m
even told that she is smoking
cigarettes (to which I don’t object)
just the perfect 20th Century girl

—————–

Matt’s Notes

The roller coaster ride called “The 2oth Century Girl” continues. On day one, Papa is sure he’s met the girl of his dreams; on day two, seized by pessimism, he literally says “I’m not worthy” and reprimands himself for his folly; on day three, in a scene that could be from a Jewish version of The Great Gatsby, we find him back in the game, “motoring around” and taking a steam bath with the friends who’ll help him plot his next move.

He’s rebounded quite energetically from the previous day’s funk, and in the process has given us another great look at the texture of life in his New York. When he says he motored around in a car, he likely means something like a Model T Ford or a Chevy touring sedan:

My friend Sixto, the highest car authority I know, says there were “hundreds of thousands” of these cars on the road by the 1920’s, and even wage earners like Papa’s friends could have picked one up for very little money. (There were also “a lot of car builders in Manhattan and Brooklyn,” but odds are Rothblum owned a Model T, especially since Henry Ford’s antisemitism wasn’t so well-known yet and wouldn’t have dissuaded a Jewish activist from buying his products.) Sixto also says:

The model T was incredibly sturdy as it was
built to run on crappy rural roads (many, if not most,
unpaved) and share the road with horses on cobble
stoned streets…

The driver of that car drove the car with a huge
steering wheel, and he most likely worked the fuel
from a lever on the steering wheel, while shifting AND
adjusting the timing of the ignition as required
(another lever on the steering wheel). THAT was real
driving.

I don’t have any pictures of Papa driving, but I do have this studio photo of him posing in a prop car with a “huge steering wheel”:

I can picture Papa discussing the “20th Century girl’s” non-objectionable tobacco habit at the Second Avenue Baths, obviously one of the many “schvitzes,” or Russian bath houses, that used to be common in New York. (“Schvitz” literally means “sweat” in Yiddish, and it can be used either as a verb, as in “I’m schvitzing from the heat already,” as a noun to refer to a bath house itself, as in “get me to the schvitz on time” or as a reference to the act of taking a steam bath, as in “I can’t think straight without a schvitz“.)

The only schvitz I’ve even been to is the Tenth Street Baths between First Avenue and Avenue A, and as far as I can tell the overall experience hasn’t changed in a thousand years (except for some coed schvitzing on select nights). The intrepid schvitzer can choose from a Turkish-style steam room, which doesn’t seem very popular, or a dry heat room, which is always full of betoweled men sitting on stone risers that appear to have been carved by ancient peoples from the very bedrock of Manhattan. For a couple of dollars extra, a large person will rub mineral-infused, soapy water on you with a leafy tree branch, and your friends will question your manhood if you don’t take a couple of dips in the icy pool right outside the sauna. This is apparently good for your circulation, which is important if you’re going to avail yourself of the steak-heavy menu in the restaurant upstairs. I usually only take a schvitz before a major milestone, as I did before my wedding, but in Papa’s day it was a much more casual diversion, and certainly an appropriate environment in which to discuss dating strategies.

Update 4/7:

Reader Dina points out the existence of an 1895 comic operetta by Ludwig Englander called “The 20th Century Girl.” Here are the details according to a site called musicaltheaterguide.com:

The 20th Century Girl; comic opera; 3 acts; libretto by Sydney Rosenfeld; Bijou Theatre, New York; 25 January 1895; revised and reopened 6 May 1895 (total 43 perfs)

And here’s a New York Times humor piece from 1912 that uses the same expression (subscription required). Looks like it was, not surprisingly, a common expression.

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Image credits

Library of Congress reproduction number LC-USZ62-63968. No known restrictions on publication.

Library of Congress reproduction number LC-DIG-npcc-02566. No known restrictions on publication.

Thursday Mar 20

by


I was embued with
a Purim spirit just thinking
a little of days gone by
Down in my neighborhood
I saw some cheep masquerades
just a shadow of a Purim
in the old world.

Visited my sisters.

I talked with the 20th
Century girl on the phone,
I long for a closer association
with her, I am constantly
thinking of her.

————

Matt’s Notes

Just a few days after meeting the “20th Century Girl,” Papa has become the very picture of a lovesick young man. Nothing can distract him from his longing; even children running by in their Purim regalia make him feel worse. (Not that he was happy about the state of Purim in New York to begin with, as we saw yesterday.) If this were an old cartoon he’d be kicking a can down the street. Maybe a car would drive through a puddle and splash him.

I wonder where he talked to the 20th Century Girl — he didn’t have a phone in his apartment, so he must have borrowed a neighbor’s or used a pay phone in his building or on the street. I’m sure he prearranged the call with his friend Rothblum (who introduced Papa to the 20th Century girl) during their conspiratorial shvitz a couple of nights earlier.

In any event, when she talked to Papa, the 20th Century Girl might have looked a little something like this:



Image source: Young woman posed with a telephone, 1915. Library of Congress call # LC-USZ62-89817. No rights information indicated.

Friday Mar 21

by

(above date) First day of Spring
proper to renew hopes

I am restless, if my
not for my radio which
kept me spellbound, in
the report round by round
of a championship boxing
fight at the Madison Square Garden
where at the End a new Jewish
champion was crowned,
I would not [be able to] stand my
loneliness. —

Just at this time I am
thinking of the 20th C. girl.

Before long I expect to have
the pleasure of her company
at an opera performance.

Received a letter from home
(parents) father still ill, May
the next letter bring me the news
of his speedy recovery.

——————

Matt’s Notes

The boxing match Papa listened to while he pined for the 20th Century Girl was a bantamweight bout in which Abe Goldstein, the challenger, took the title from defending champ Joe Lynch in a 12-round decision. According to the New York Times, Goldstein was “a product of the Ninety-second Street Y.M.H.A. and a graduate of the fistic nursery over which Nat Osk, Y.M.H.A. athletic instructor, reigns.” This refers to the very 92nd St. Y known today for its upscale guest lectures (“In Conversation: The Nimoys on Collecting”) and adult education programs (“Healthy, Wealthy & Wise: Life After 50”) so it’s a little hard to picture it as a hotbed of pugilism.

Yet so it was. Abe Goldstein was one of the many Jews who, hoping to box their way out of the ghetto, came to dominate the sport in the 1920’s. In Papa’s day, more New York boxers were Jewish than Irish or Italian, and Jewish gym owners, promoters and trainers also “assumed disproportionately prominent roles in all aspects of the sport”.1 In fact, when Goldstein left the Y for Grupp’s Gymnasium on 116th Street in Harlem, he came under the wing of the great Jewish trainer Ray Arcel, a Stuyvesant High School grad who trained 20 world champions including Kid Gavilan, Roberto Duran and Larry Holmes. The owner of Grupp’s was apparently such an anti-Semite that Arcel and his charges picked up and took their act to the little-known, Jewish-owned Stillman’s Gym on 125th street, after which it grew into one of boxing’s legendary gyms.2

Jewish boxers usually wore Stars of David on their robes and trunks and rarely tried to pass for gentile, though their attitudes varied as to whether they were fighting on behalf of the Jewish people or just doing their jobs3. Papa had no such ambivalence, though. Like many Jewish immigrants who had experienced European anti-Semitism firsthand, Papa took pride in his fighting landsmen and other “muscle Jews” who refused to appear stereotypically weak and cowed. Remember, he nicknamed the chapter of the mutual aid society he belonged to “The Maccabeans” after the Jewish warriors of old, so living, breathing Jewish athletes (who probably lived across the alley from him) must have filled him with more than garden-variety ethnic pride.

Alas, no one — not “Slapsie” Maxie Rosenblum, Benny Leonard, or Ray Arcel himself — could have shown Papa how to conquer his loneliness or beat the poverty that kept his ailing parents in the old country. We’ve seen before how milestones made him especially contemplative and melancholy, and though the arrival of Spring was “proper to renew hopes,” I’m not sure he felt genuinely hopeful. Stay tuned.

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References for this post:

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And here’s a 1922 Benny Leonard fight via YouTube:

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Our friend J.R. adds:

For what it’s worth, Abe Goldstein’s first fight was on June 30, 1916, in New York, New York – he knocked out George Lewis in the 8th round. On August 4th, he defeated Kid Rago, and on August 26, he made quick work of a boxer who went by the name Smiling Willie. From what I can tell, the names of his competitors grew more and more comical as he went along culminating in successive and, one would assume, heartbreaking losses in 1925 to Bushy Graham in New York, and Dixie LaHood in Butte, Montana. (Even the names of the towns he fought in got funnier if you read them wrong!)

He was considered to be among the top five bantemweights of all time… presumably by some guy who was familiar with at least five bantemweights.

Tuesday Mar 25

by

Had the 20. Century girl on the
phone. Arranged a date
with her for this coming Sat. at (torn)
opera for which occasion I have (torn)
secured the choicest best seats.

Attended the performance
and movie at the Capitol.
Again the usual divertisement
Ballet & Music which appeals
so much to me.

The terpsy chorus interpretation
to the music of Straus’ Waltz,
Artists dream, was more than
wonderful.

————-

The movie Papa saw at the Capitol that night was The Unknown Purple, a sci-fi thriller notable for its use of purple-tinted frames and special effects (the film’s villain wields a purple invisibility ray while committing his dastardly deeds). The New York Times review was lukewarm, though the anonymous reviewer enjoyed the action scenes. Looks like Papa liked it even less, since he was more interested in the night’s ballet and music presentation than in the film (remember, the movie palaces of old supplemented their screenings with live, “highbrow” performances of all sorts to give their decidedly less priveledged audiences a taste of culture).

Note: Though I’m no one to question Papa’s knowledge of classical music, I think the musical piece he saw interpreted at the Capitol was Strauss’s “Artist’s Life,” not “Artist’s Dream.” Perhaps the slip happened because Papa’s own dream — a date with the “20th Century Girl” — was in the offing.

—————–

A couple of the words in this entry are partially missing due to a small tear in the side of the page, but it also has a couple of other words I can’t quite make out. It looks like he’s written “the terpsy chorus interpretation of Straus’ Waltz” in reference to the house orchestra at the Capitol Theatre, but that’s obviously not right. Give it a look below. Any ideas?

unknown word

Update:

My mother adds:

He may have meant Terpsichore, who was the muse of
dance. He probably heard the word, but didn’t get the spelling right.

That makes sense. The word he was trying to write was “terpsichorean.”

unknown word
—————–

References for this post:

Saturday Mar 29

by

Well I had the sought pleasure
of the 20th Century girl to be with
me at the opera.

She is very nice, although poor
she likes only the high places,
she cannot mix with common
people, and is rather serious
minded, find she is fairly well
educated, fine manners in
conversation, has a passion
for cigarette smoking. peppy.

Her little slim figure is very
fascinating, that beautiful
face, those eyes of enchantment.

In conclusion she is beautiful
type worthy of admiration. —
I am glad to count her among
my friends.

This little adventure tonight
was rather expensive but worthwhile.

———

Matt’s Notes

Papa saw an opera double-feature on his date with the 20th Century Girl. The main attraction was Nicholas Rimsky-Korsakoff’s Le Coq d’Or, which concerns an Eastern European warlord (not unlike those who were making life miserable around the world for people like Papa) who gets his comeuppance for being a jerk. Papa certainly had a rooting interest in the outcome, and since I’m sure he knew the Pushkin poem, “The Golden Cockerel,” on which the opera’s based, he would have really enjoyed himself if he wasn’t too distracted by the “little slim figure” in the next seat.

Then again, if the 20th Century Girl’s education afforded her a working knowledge of opera, Papa would have had cause for worry; the performance apparently wasn’t that good. Though the New York Times had blessed the production, it had saved its highest praise for Rosina Galli-Curci. Alas, she was indisposed on the night of the 29th, thus casting a pall over the proceedings. Irving Kolodin, in his Story of the Metropolitan Opera, describes the consequences thus:

The large repertory was further varied by the return of Le Coq d’or on January 21 with Galli-Curci singing the Queen with excellent style and indifferent pitch, and Laura Robertson as the Voice of the Golden Cock. Giuseppe Bamboschek conducted a cast otherwise very much as before, and the production was Pogany’s…As one was to notice with increasing frequency, the heavy schedule often resulted in cast changes that not merely deprived the audience of a favorite voice, but substituted one of notably inferior quality. Thus, Sabinieeva for Gallie-Curci in Coq d’or…

Oh well. Perhaps the 20th Century Girl’s “passion for cigarette smoking” had her too distracted with thoughts of bodice-ripping ashtrays and tumescent match heads for her to notice the compromised work up on the stage. If not, she at least would have enjoyed the one-act opera that preceded Le Coq: Franco Leoni’s L’Oracolo, a tale of murder and intrigue (a “brilliant little ‘shocker’,” according to the Times) set in San Francisco’s Chinatown. I’m listening to L’Oracolo as I write this, but since I don’t speak Italian and am also sitting on a loud plane with a distressingly chipper flight crew chatting away behind me, much of the dramatic effect is lost.

In any event, there’s plenty of drama building in Papa’s delightfully 19th Century-style account of the 20th Century Girl. The phrases he uses, like “those eyes of enchantment” and “she is worthy of admiration,” sound like the words with which an awkward-but-secretly-loaded Jane Austen hero might stoically torment himself. Papa, of course, was not secretly loaded, and we know the 20th Century Girl “cannot mix with common people.” If Papa were writing a novel instead of his own life’s story, this description of her low tolerance for the low-born would certainly give the experienced reader pause.

———————–

Additional Notes

I still can’t get over how Papa cites the 20th Century Girl’s “passion for cigarettes” as one of her standout qualities. I’ll have to remember to credit myself with a “passion for bourbon” the next time I feel Maker’s Mark-induced shame creeping up on me.

Meanwhile, I’ve tried to figure out how expensive Papa’s night at the opera really was, but I’ve yet to learn what ticket prices were like in his day. Good tickets nowadays run $200 or more — the equivalent of $16 in 1924 dollars — but I doubt he spent that much. I’ll have to keep poking around, but if anyone out there can tell me more, please write to me or drop a comment.

——-

My mother adds:

Papa must have seen Galli Curci other times, because I remember him mentioning her a lot; I guess in an effort to improve my musical taste, which in those days ran toward the top 40. I think Papa probably disapproved of the passion for smoking of the 20th century girl, but was listing her many fine attributes as well as some things not so good, like not mixing with the common people. The fact that he counts her among his friends does not bode well for romance.


————

Sources