Tuesday Apr 29

by


The climax of the
White Sister
at the Capitol Theatre
brought forward my tears

————–

Matt’s Notes

When I watched A Woman of Paris, one of the movies mentioned in Papa’s diary, I was pleasantly reminded of the artistry and maturity of 1920’s silent films and noted how surprisingly subtle and persuasive many of the performances were. The White Sister, which I watched yesterday, is much more of a Hollywood extravaganza, replete with exotic locales, grand special effects and feverishly manufactured plot twists, but it does bear out Norma Desmond’s great boast about silent film actors: “We didn’t need dialogue. We had faces!” In this case the face belongs to Lillian Gish, whose heartbreaking expressions and powerful charisma (apparent even in the film’s abysmally poor video version) transcend the movie’s contrivances and give it real emotional resonance. (“There is something about her hopeless wistfulness that squeezes sobs from the coldest heart,” said Time magazine of Gish.)

Lillian Gish

Gish plays Italian countess Angela Chiaromonte, who decides to become a nun after her jealous stepsister Marchesa (Gail Kane) robs her of her inheritance and her fiancee, Govanni Severini (Ronald Colman) seemingly dies on an African military mission. Govanni has, in fact, merely been imprisoned by Arab bandits, but Angela has already taken her vows by the time he escapes his captors and returns to Italy. He tries desperately to get Angela to leave the Church, but she takes her marriage to Christ seriously and will not budge (melodramatic, yes, but Gish expresses her sorrow and resolve convincingly).

As I watched the climax to figure out what Papa could have found so moving, I was initially stumped because it overdoes the deux ex machina something fierce, with a volcano eruption and a resulting flood forcing the resolution (even the New York Times reviewer, who lavished praise on the film’s grand landscapes and “serious, enthralling narrative,” found the ending “dissapointing”). The ending’s biggest problem is Govanni’s death — he drowns while saving people from the flood, but instead of affirming his character’s nobility this episode just feels like a handy mechanism for the filmmakers, who need to dispense with Govanni somehow (we never quite stop wanting Angela to renounce her vows and marry him, and that would do at all).

The climax also finds Angela’s treacherous stepsister Marchesa mortally wounded in a carriage accident. She crawls to Angela’s church to seek absolution for cheating Angela out of her inheritance, and, in her delirious state, mistakes Angela for a priest and confesses to her. Here, I think, is where Papa must have taken notice: Dying in Angela’s arms, Marchesa wonders aloud if Angela could ever forgive her, and Angela, mustering all her will and mastering all her pain, says:

God is love – she has forgiven you.

Papa, who based so much of his behavior on a deep, spiritual belief in the power of forgiveness, must have understood this moment keenly. And as I think more about the circumstances of Papa’s life when he saw this film, I realize the story must have touched him in other ways, too: How could he have watched the death of Angela’s wise, loving father in the movie’s opening scenes without thinking of his own father, so sick and so far away? How could he have watched the behavior of Angela’s resentful stepsister without thinking of his own brother Isaac, who so upset Papa by berating him for not sending more money to the old country? How could he have watched Angela vow to spend her life in the service of others without thinking of the sacrifices and efforts he made on behalf of his own people? It’s no wonder that Angela’s climactic moment of forgiveness “brought forward” his tears — for how could he be told, by Lillian Gish, no less, that all his loneliness and longing and trials might, in the end, be worth it, and not cry with relief?

———————

Speaking of tears, I have to confess I find it very hard to hold back my own when I watch the movies or listen to the songs Papa mentions in his diary. To hear the things he heard and to see the things he saw allow me — almost, almost — to be like Papa, to be with Papa, two things I want so much. I can’t not watch, I can’t not listen. But it breaks my heart. The films are here. The songs are here. But he is gone. He is gone.

————————

References:

And here’s the Capitol Theatre, where Papa saw The White Sister

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Image Credits:


Wednesday Apr 30

by


Home.

——————

Matt’s Notes

A slow day for Papa, so I’ll share this intriguing little artifact that we found mixed in among a bunch of his photos from the 20’s. Is it a self-portrait? A sketch drawn by someone else? Why the decorative hints in the corners?

Papa had a few different “cabinet cards,” or postcard-sized photos of himself used as calling cards, in his collection (a common practice I discussed a little bit in a previous post) so maybe this is a study for one he never had made.

Thursday May 1

by


This is workers day, so
I am off resting.

In afternoon attended
game in Yankee Stadium
in Evening Zionist meeting
at Hotel Astor.

Sent home $5.00

Received letter from home
father still ill, but I am
at least relieved by getting
some news from home.

——————

Matt’s Notes

“Workers Day” refers to International Workers day or Labor Day, a holiday recognized around the world on May 1 and generally associated with the Haymarket Riot of 1886 and its tragic aftermath. (As you remember from your history lessons, the riot took place after Chicago union workers called a general strike in support of an eight-hour workday on May 1, 1886. Four days of mayhem followed. Several protesters died at the hands of the police, though events reached a tragic climax when a bomb exploded in Haymarket Square and killed at least seven police officers and four civilians. Several anarchists were falsely arrested, tried and executed for the bombing, sparking international outrage). Though the riot happened in Chicago, the United States never officially recognized May Day as a holiday, allegedly because its commemoration had quickly become associated with Socialist causes. Meanwhile, more conservative labor organizations had already prompted several states to declare the first Monday in September as Labor Day, and in 1887 Grover Cleveland decided to make it a national holiday.

Papa’s union and employer obviously still recognized May Day as a workers’ holiday in 1924; the New York Yankees, on the other hand, could only wish they had the day off, as they saw their long winning streak come to an end at the hands of the Washington Senators. Papa saw them strand runners on base all day in the course of the 3-2 loss at the Stadium, or, as the New York Times put it, “When a single or a fly meant a run or more, the Yankee hitsmiths struck out or popped out or rolled out in a manner agonizing.”

It looks like the U.S. Postal Service was open that day as well, since, my sources tell me, post offices often served as banks through which immigrants would send money overseas (I can’t be totally sure that Papa sent his $5.00 home through the post office since he had other options as well, but it’s a safe bet). Having received an update from the old country and sent some money to his family, I expect Papa was able to concentrate on his Zionist meeting at the Astor with something like a clear head.

hotel astor

—————

References:

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Image sources:

  • Yankee Stadium, 4/3/23. Library of Congress # LC-B2- 5958-11. No known restrictions on publication.
  • Hotel Astor. Library of Congress call number HABS NY,31-NEYO,72-.

Friday May 2

by


Home & Radio

To be alone in the house
to sleep alone in my rooms
is a trying experience.

When evening comes
along I feel more then
ever the emptiness of my
life. I hear the dance
music on the radio, I would
so gladly dance to the sweet
tunes but whom with?

I would talk my heart out
to someone now but whom to?

—————-

Matt’s Notes

When I read passages like this, written when Papa was in his lowest, loneliest moods, I feel like it’s best to leave him alone and let him listen to his tunes meant for two.

What else can I add to such beautiful, sad sentiments, other than to say

Papa, this is you:

————–

My mother adds:

I’m sure you’d be interested to know that the photo was taken at Flamenbaum’s resort Kerhonkson, N.Y. My memory was jogged by the car in the background. I believe my mother and I stayed up there for the week and Papa came on weekends. One time I was so happy to see him that I didn’t even notice that he had shaved off his moustache.

Audio source:

That Naughty Waltz (1920) from archive.org

Saturday May 3

by


Suffered this morning an una-
voidable pain having tooth extract-
ted.

Went to dance of 2nd Zionist
dance at Webster Hall, I sat
in a rather sad mood but
later in the evening I have
been introduced to a girl
who was with me to the end,
She trusted me to implicitly

She is to much of a plain girl
But I’ve made with her two
appointments, I will relieve
a little of my loneliness, She
is a pretty girl.

————–

Matt’s Notes

Papa never seems to like the women he meets at Webster Hall (he went to a Zionist ball there earlier in the year and got turned off by the “wild women” and “jazz babies” in attendance) though I’m not sure how he could have enjoyed himself at all on this day after having a tooth pulled. (What was it like for him to get dental work done. Did he find a dentist through his union or one of his immigrant support societies? Did he get his tooth pulled in the living room of someone’s apartment, in a clean, well-lit office, or did he have to wait hours in a clinic filled with other people from the neighborhood? I’m stuck on the image of Papa sitting in a chair with his tooth tied to a doorknob by a length of string, but I imagine facilities were a little more sophisticated back then.)

This entry again shows us that Papa’s bouts of extraordinary loneliness (yesterday’s mediation on solitude was one of his saddest) were due not to any sort of social isolation but rather to something more deeply rooted and, alas, not as easy to get rid of as a bad tooth. Even his evaluation of the woman he met at Webster Hall feels muddy and conflicted: She’s both plain and pretty; she’s trusts him, but “to implicitly”; he doesn’t really like her but makes two dates with her anyway. Such ambivalence is, of course, not uncommon for single young men. His ongoing pattern of dating and dissatisfaction would almost be fodder for a good light comedy if only we didn’t know how privately pained he was.

I remember now that I once took a quick look at Papa’s diary when I was in college and saw one or two passages about his intense loneliness, how his sense of isolation resisted, persisted amidst, the bustle of life in 1920’s New York. I also remember thinking I knew how it felt, and for that reason I needed to revisit the diary one day. Now, when I read his saddest passages, I feel the urge to send him notes from his future to tell him everything turned out okay. Did I think his diary was a note from my future when I read it years ago? Do I still?

Sunday May 4

by

Attended games at Polo
grounds, and after that attended Maccabean
meeting at Pennsylvania
Hotel.

I am glad to notice
that my beloved camp
is progressing even if
slowly, at every meeting
it is my pleasant duty
to initiate new members.

Our meeting was visited
by guests of various O.B.Z.
camps in the city.

————–

Matt’s Notes

I enjoy the ironic, playful tone of the New York Times’ baseball writing from Papa’s day, but I think the anonymous New York Giants beat writer is my favorite. Here’s how he (presumably not she) opens his account of the double header Papa saw:

If 42,000 persons had not been present it would be kinder to say nothing about what happened at the Polo Grounds yesterday. But by this time it is no secret that the Giants brutally assaulted the hapless and helpless Phillies, winning both ends of the Sunday double-header, 13 to 3 and 12 to 3. Not all of the 42,000 saw the massacre through, for some were faint-hearted and others wanted to get home while there was still daylight enough to find their way there.

He goes on to wonder why anyone would see the Phillies in the first place, “even though they were twice offered for sacrifice at the nominal price of $1.10.” This serves as a great example of the resourcefulness required of baseball writers to say essentially the same thing 154 times a year (the length of the season in 1924) and also answers my question of what Papa paid for tickets. The Polo Grounds would have had over 10,000 empty seats that day, but I think this photo of the more crowded stands on opening day of 1923 still gives us a good idea of what the field looked like from Papa’s point of view:

polo grounds

I also continue to be amazed at how quickly baseball games were played back then. The double header described above wrapped up in four hours (yesterday’s Yankees double header took 6) allowing Papa plenty of time to hop on the IRT at 155th Street, head down to Penn Station, and make his “Maccabean” meeting at the Hotel Pennsylvania.

“Maccabean,” as noted before, refers to Papa’s chapter of the Zionist mutual aid society B’nai Zion. It looks like the meeting he attended was larger than usual and included members of other B’nai Zion camps (it must have taken place in one of the Pennsylvania’s private dining rooms) because it was an induction ceremony for new members. Papa would have run the meeting and conducted the initiation rituals in his capacity as Master of Ceremonies.

On minor quirk in this entry is Papa’s use of the initials “O.B.Z” to refer to B’nai Zion. This must be an inadvertent conflation of the group’s Hebrew (B’nai Zion) and English (Order Sons of Zion) names, unless I’m reading his handwriting wrong:

————-

Additional Notes:

The Jewish Daily Forward, descendant of the venerable Yiddish daily that Papa most certainly read in his youth, published a story about Papa’s Diary Project in this week’s English language issue. It’s called “Dear Diary: Back in Time” and you can read it here.

————-

References:

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Image source:

Opening Day, Polo Ground, 4.26/1923. Library of Congress #LC-B2- 5982-1

Monday May 5

by


Stopped from work at
Zionist Hdqtrs. to attend
to some publicity for the camp
in the Zionist publications.

Attended in evening,
East Side K.H. meeting,
which awakened my interest
to be more active in the cause
that is so dear to me.

I visted friend W. at store
All my credit to him for his
success in business, which is
such a thriving one due to
his ability. If I had
enough money now I’d accomplish
something I sincerely believe.

——————–

Matt’s Notes

Like so many New Yorkers before and after him, Papa worked a day job, attended to his more heartfelt pursuits in the evening, and counted a good night’s sleep among his lower priorities. Since this is so typical, and also because Papa rarely mentions work in his diary, it hasn’t yet occurred to me to ask what his working hours were actually were.

I think the eight-hour work day was established for garment factory workers by 1924, so Papa may well have knocked off at four or five o’clock. (I’ll have to look into this more, but even if the eight-hour day wasn’t official, I’m sure Papa’s factory, which still recognized May Day as a worker’s holiday, hewed to progressive union rules.) This would have given him a decent amount of time to attend to his evening responsibilities, though it still would have been a bit of a scramble.

The “headquarters” he visited were likely the Zionist Organization of America offices at 114 Fifth Avenue (at 16th Street) and the “publicity” he attended to was probably some kind of writeup about his chapter of the Zionist fraternal organization B’nai Zion (an announcement about the initiation ceremony he presided over the day before?) for Dos Yiddishe Folk, the Z.O.A.’s weekly publication. It’s possible that “headquarters” also meant B’nai Zion’s main office at 44 East 23rd Street, but in any event they likely ran all their publicity through the Z.O.A. since they were originally a Z.O.A. spinoff.

So, you might ask, in light of all his running around and hard work, how could he attend a meeting of Keren Hayesod (a Zionist fundraising group) and come away thinking he wasn’t doing enough for his cause? It’s hard for me to answer objectively since I never think I do enough of whatever I do and pretty much motivate myself entirely be being dissatisfied with what I have; I can only assume Papa had the same feelings as a young man and, perhaps, passed the trait down to me. In fact, I need to wrap up this post right now because I have to be somewhere, and I’m entirely sure this post is abysmally incomplete. (Watch for me, stomping down the street in a shitty mood, in about five minutes).

Here are the questions I still wish I’d written about:

  • Why did Papa refer to his friend “W.” only by his first initial? Did he not want to bring the evil eye on his successful business?
  • What does Papa think he’d accomplish with more money? Help the Zionist cause? Run for office? Give more to charity?
  • When did Papa learn to judge his life on what he had rather than on some abstract sense that he was supposed to be doing something else, something more, something different? And when will I, for God’s sake?
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