During the 1910s and into the 1920s, Skulnik worked as a jack-of-all-trades, writing out actors\u2019 parts, serving as stage manager, building sets, acting as prompter, and performing in secondary roles as he gradually honed his trademark deadpan-comedian persona. By the mid-1920s, he had become \u201cworld famous in Canada\u201d but was still relatively unknown in New York City. Two visits to Argentina, in 1928 and 1929, turned him into a top star in that country. When Maurice Schwartz first visited Buenos Aires in 1930, he seemed astonished to hear of Skulnik\u2019s acclaim there. Success on Second Avenue remained elusive for Skulnik, however.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Skulnik\u2019s New York City breakthrough finally came in 1932, when he starred in the musical comedy\u00a0<\/em>Getsl vert a khosn\u00a0[<\/em>Getzel Becomes a Bridegroom] at Brooklyn\u2019s Hopkinson Theatre. This was followed by other hits on Second Avenue itself, bearing such titles as\u00a0<\/em>Mister Schlemiel\u00a0and\u00a0<\/em>Fishl der gerotener\u00a0[its English title was\u00a0<\/em>The Perfect Fishel].1<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0The libretto for the latter musical comedy was by the veteran playwright Louis Freiman, with music by Joseph M. Rumshinsky, song lyrics by Isidore Lillian, choreography by Senia Russakoff, and set designs by Leib Kadison (of Vilna Troupe fame). It is in connection with\u00a0<\/em>Fishl, which ran at the Yidisher folks-teater (aka Folks Theatre) on Second Avenue during the 1935-1936 season, that the events recounted here took place. Skulnik and Rumshinsky were artistic and business partners at the Folks-teater. As such, they were responsible for covering the salaries of cast members and other theatre employees\u2014and (as this installment relates) for paying the federal entertainment tax.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n One of the refrains of Skulnik\u2019s memoir involves the constant struggle to make ends meet. As he later commented, \u201cWhat did I know about business? I must confess that apart from the theatre, I don\u2019t know anything. You could sell me the Brooklyn Bridge, even though I know quite well that the Brooklyn Bridge is not \u2018For Sale\u2019.\u201d By his account, he was repeatedly shortchanged when he performed with troupes led by his brother-in-law Misha German. And during the season-long run of\u00a0<\/em>Fishl, Skulnik and his partner Rumshinsky (who \u201cknew even less than me\u201d concerning the business side of the Yiddish theatre) were mystified by the weekly shortfalls that the company was experiencing, even though it was a hit production with full houses. They suspected the four box-office managers of skimming off thousands of dollars from the proceeds, and the result was a severe cash crunch. The two partners eventually managed to cover their company\u2019s financial obligations, but how they went about raising the cash was a story that could be told only after a certain amount of time had passed.2<\/a><\/sup><\/a><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The gangster and local warlord Misha Yaponchik was one of the pillars sustaining Odessa\u2019s starving Yiddish actors during the Russian revolution. Pimps and prostitutes were among the most devoted patrons of the Yiddish theatres of Buenos Aires. In this installment, Skulnik hints at the informal ties that existed between at least some members of New York City\u2019s Yiddish theatrical community and elements of the criminal underworld.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Zachary Baker<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Installment from the serialized memoir \u201cMenashe Skulnik dertseylt\u201d [The Menashe Skulnik Story], in the Forverts (Forward), New York, June 19, 1963.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n I used to have two bankers who\u2019d lend me money. One was Jacob R. Schiff, a bona fide millionaire.3<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0He was a friend of mine and the Yiddish theatre was his hobby. He helped William Rolland build the Parkway Theatre.4<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0In addition, I know that he helped Oscar Green acquire the Hopkinson Theatre,5<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0and that each summer he provided interest-free loans to Yiddish actors, to tide them over the summer without resorting to loan sharks. He\u2019d lend between two hundred and five hundred dollars to each actor. Those who were able to pay him back during the winter always had an open account with Schiff. Whenever I needed a few thousand dollars for thirty days, I\u2019d always get it from Jacob R. Schiff and, thank God, I always kept my word and paid him back on time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My second banker was Hermann, the busboy at the Caf\u00e9 Royal. When I paid my actors by check on Saturday night Hermann would cash their checks, and I\u2019d pay him ten dollars for the service. On Thursday, when the checks were returned by the bank, Hermann would come by and let me know: \u201cHerr Skulnik, the checks haff been returned.\u201d So, I\u2019d give him another ten dollars and tell him to hold onto the checks for three more days and then deposit them again. Hermann was satisfied even if the checks were returned three times, because then he\u2019d get three times ten dollars. He often asked me, \u201cHerr Skulnik,\u00a0was ist denn los<\/em>? Vat\u2019s going on? Your checks weren\u2019t returned this week.\u201d (Because in that situation he\u2019d be deprived of ten or fifteen dollars.)<\/p>\n\n\n It\u2019s worth noting that I had to carry out these maneuvers even when the plays met with success and packed houses. The top stars from Broadway came to admire us and would then return a second time together with their friends, to show us off to them. Major Sarnoff of the National Broadcasting Company came repeatedly with different friends of his in tow.6<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0He always paid at the box office with a crisp new hundred-dollar bill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Once, he brought along the world-renowned writer Emil Ludwig, who wrote biographies of some of the world\u2019s most important personalities, whereupon Ludwig became one of our fans and brought along\u00a0his<\/em>\u00a0friends.7<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0He had a habit of getting up from his seat and approaching the stage in the middle of the performance, clapping all the way. The audience, watching him, would keep up their applause longer than usual. (This was doubtless a custom back in Germany.) At any rate, our success with\u00a0Fishl der gerotener<\/em>\u00a0was extraordinary, and with this great success came my need to raise cash every Monday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As the old joke has it: On Monday I borrowed from Moishe to pay Chaim, and on Shabbos I borrowed from Chaim to pay Moishe.<\/p>\n\n\n One fine day, Rumshinsky said to me, \u201cMenashe, I want to tell you about a place where, if you go there, you can get whatever you ask for. I\u2019d go there myself, but he won\u2019t give me anything. He\u2019ll lend you however much you want.\u201d \u201cWho is this man?\u201d I asked. \u201cHe\u2019s one of your fans. He comes every week to see you. Each time he buys up the entire front row and brings along his friends.\u201d8<\/a><\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n At first, I didn\u2019t want to go to someone I didn\u2019t know and borrow money from him. But we had to write checks to the Revenue Department for admission taxes and we wanted the checks to clear. Rumshinsky gave me a name and the address of a restaurant on Broadway. Before going there, I wanted Rumshinsky to tell me who this man was and what he looked like. He explained to me that the man always comes into the theatre five minutes after the performance begins and always leaves five or ten minutes before the performance ends. During the intermissions he never remains in his seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Some kind of oddball, I thought, but I was interested in meeting him. I rode to the caf\u00e9 on Broadway. It was across the street from the Metropolitan Opera House\u2014Gertner\u2019s Caf\u00e9, if I\u2019m not mistaken.9<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0Whatever\u2014I asked the cashier to point out the man.<\/p>\n\n\n I didn\u2019t have to look for very long because the man had spotted me earlier and recognized me. He came right up to me and embraced me like a long-lost brother. He escorted me to the tables and introduced me to everybody. \u201cDo you know who this is?\u201d he asked each and every one of them. \u201cThis is Menashe Skulnik, the greatest actor in New York, the greatest comedian in the whole wide world!\u201d He slapped me on the shoulder and thanked me for coming to see him. \u201cYour friend Rumshinsky promised me that you\u2019ll come to see me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We sat down together; he struck me as a highly intelligent person in his forties, very well dressed, with a sympathetic face. And he asked me, \u201cWhat can I do for you?\u201d I was barely able to stammer that I needed five thousand dollars. His facial expression suddenly turned stern, and his tone completely changed. \u201cFor how long?\u201d he asked me, sounding angry. I didn\u2019t know what to say to him, but the words \u201cfor ninety days\u201d somehow tumbled off my tongue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was certain that he was going to bargain with me for a shorter term, or that instead of five thousand he might give me half the amount. He got up, went into the phone booth, and signaled me to join him there. I slipped inside and he took out a pack of hundreds and fifties and counted out five thousand dollars. \u201cRemember,\u201d he said to me, \u201conly ninety days. And I want it back in cash. No checks!\u201d he warned me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I placed the five thousand dollars in my pocket and took out a promissory note which I was about to fill in. \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d he asked. \u201cA note,\u201d I said. \u201cI don\u2019t want any notes,\u201d he said to me. \u201cAnd I don\u2019t want any publicity. Don\u2019t tell anyone that you\u2019ve borrowed money from me. Ninety days from now, I\u2019ll expect you in the same place with five thousand in cash.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I thanked him from the bottom of my heart, shook his hand, and said that it was a real pleasure to meet him \u2013 and I sincerely meant it. He then said to me, \u201cI\u2019ll be seeing you. I come to the theatre every week with my friends.\u201d \u201cGood-bye,\u201d I said. \u201cThank you very much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I went off and immediately deposited the five thousand dollars in the bank. I thought that the five thousand would free me from any worries during the next three months, and if it turned out to be difficult to pay back the entire amount, I\u2019d pay back half of it, and he\u2019d wait another thirty days for me to give him the balance. That\u2019d be fine, I told myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When Rumshinsky saw me, he gave me an impish smile and didn\u2019t even ask if I\u2019d received the money. He knew perfectly well that I had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Two days later, my theatre\u2019s accountant, David Kulak, came by. He helped us out with money from time to time. When he noticed the five-thousand-dollar bank deposit he naturally asked me, \u201cWhere\u2019d you get the five thousand dollars?\u201d I took out the slip of paper and showed him the name \u2013 Mr. Buchalter \u2013 and the address. Kulak grew pale. \u201cMenashe, do you know who you took money from?\u201d \u201cOf course I know,\u201d I said. \u201cHe\u2019s a fan of mine.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s Lepke Buchalter,\u201d Kulak informed me. \u201cHe\u2019s the biggest gangster in America, the head of Murder Incorporated. We\u2019ve got to do everything in our power to have five thousand dollars on hand to give back to him, exactly ninety days from now. If we don\u2019t, not even the slightest trace of you will remain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n What can I say? For ninety days I wasn\u2019t able even to shut my eyes. I didn\u2019t sleep; I didn\u2019t eat. I was upset with Rumshinsky because he knew full well where he was sending me. In short, when the ninety days were up, I put fifty hundred-dollar bills in my pocket and went to the same caf\u00e9, and with a palpitating heart I approached Mr. Buchalter. He extended his hand to me, took me from table to table, and introduced me as the world\u2019s greatest comedian. I summoned up my courage and smiled. He then asked me if I had the money. \u201cYes,\u201d I said. And once again he took me into the phone booth, and I gave him the pack of hundreds. He didn\u2019t even bother to count them out. And when we stepped out of the phone booth he said, \u201cAnd now, treat me to breakfast.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sat down with him, and he had breakfast, for which the waiter gave me the check.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNow that you\u2019ve returned the money in time,\u201d he said to me, \u201cI want you to know that it\u2019s been a great honor for me to help you out. I did it because I like you, and you\u2019ll have an open account with me as long as I live.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But he didn\u2019t live long; a little while later he was shown the electric chair.10<\/a><\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n A few months after he met Skulnik, Lepke Buchalter (along with several other mobsters) was indicted for the murder, on September 13, 1936, of a candy-store owner named Joe Rosen. Meanwhile, in November 1936, Buchalter was convicted for violating federal anti-trust laws in the rabbit-skin fur industry and sentenced to two years in federal prison. Rather than serve time, he and his partner in crime, Jacob \u201cGurrah\u201d Shapiro, jumped bail. Buchalter remained at large until August 1939, when he surrendered to J. Edgar Hoover. Two years later, while serving time for a narcotics charge, he was tried for murder and sentenced to death. Louis \u201cLepke\u201d Buchalter and two of his partners in crime, Emanuel Weiss and Louis Capone, were executed at Sing-Sing on March 4, 1944.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n In his memoirs, Menashe Skulnik recalled the many years when he performed in cities outside of New York \u2013 including six years in Philadelphia, which he considered to be a theatrical purgatory.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":32,"featured_media":2072,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":"","uwm_wg_additional_authors":[]},"categories":[47,11,19,34],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2062","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-1918-1945","category-actors","category-north-america","category-performance-practices"],"yoast_head":"\n
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\n\n\n\nTranslator\u2019s Afterword<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nNotes<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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