DIANE CYPKIN ORAL HISTORY

MARK GERSTEIN:Okay! A little introduction here. This is Mark Gerstein, and today is August 8th, 2013. I'm here at the Yiddish Book Center in Amherst, Massachusetts, with Diane Cypkin, and we're going to record an interview as part of the Yiddish Book Center's Wexler Oral History Project. Diane, do I have your permission to record this interview?

DIANE CYPKIN:Of course.

MG:Okay, thank you. Let's start out talking a little bit about your family, your family background. What can you tell us about that?

DC:Well, my mother grew up in a small shtetele -- a small town -- in Lithuania called Mažeikiai. It was very near Riga; in fact, my mother would tell me that when they would go shopping or when they needed to go to a doctor, there were 1:00always very good doctors in Riga -- and Riga is Latvia. So my mother grew up there. And she would take the cow out to the pasture -- it was a very rural kind of a life. And there were seven children. My mother was the oldest. My grandfather was a tanner -- leather. So they didn't live in an area where there were many Jews. They lived outside of town, surrounded by non-Jews. And at night, my mother took it upon herself to make sure all the windows were closed, and all the doors, because my mother always had a premonition that something bad could happen.

When my mother finished high school, she wanted to move to the big city. Why? While she was growing up, she used to love to go to the movies. My mother loved Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich. And in fact, one of the first things she did was pluck out all her eyebrows and make this thin, brown line, so that she could look more like Marlene Dietrich. And she made a kheyn pintl -- a beauty mark -- 2:00and as long as I knew my mother she was, you know, making this beauty mark. In fact, when she stopped making the beauty mark, we knew that it was all over. My mother had Alzheimer's in the end. So she loved glamour, she loved going to the movies at night. She would run off at night. Now, my mother's father was a very traditional man. When he saw my mother doing her eyebrows -- and my mother would wear a very red lipstick, and this kheyn pintl here -- he said, "She's nothing but a -- she's gonna become a whore if she isn't one already." But my mother just loved to look good, and she loved the glamour of it all. And her mother understood her. So the first thing my mother did was when she finished high school, she begged to be let go -- allowed to go to the big city, Kovno. And her mother took out her knipl -- you know, all the women had these kniplekh -- a little handkerchief where they kept their little mad money -- and she gave my 3:00mother her money and said, "Go." I can imagine what happened when her father found out. He probably said, "Well, you know, now" -- and my grandmother's name was Tsipe Dvoyre; I'm Dvoyre, I'm named for her -- part of my name. Undoubtedly, Leybe, who was her husband, said, you know, "Look what you've done! Who knows what'll happen to her now in the big city! She's really out for nothing good."

My mother came to the big city, and she tried to get a job. She wanted very much to get a job. But nobody would hire her. She got a little room with a lady -- my mother didn't have -- the money ran out. Her mother would send her food in boxes. My mother would go and pick it up by foot -- she would go to the post office to get the cookies and whatever her mother sent her. But my mother was really living in a room with hot water that her landlady was kind enough to give her, and she didn't have a job, and she didn't want to go home. Her friend -- my mother's friend -- introduced her to my father. My father was in Kovno, and he 4:00already had a very, very successful manufacturing business. My father had wanted to go to college. In fact, he finished the Realgymnasium, which is considered, like, the Harvard of whatever, but his father died -- my father's father -- and his mother began making ready-to-make clothing. She got the idea, and so she took army uniforms from World War I and she made ready-to-wear children's clothing -- she got that idea. And it really took off. And my father became her main -- he went on the market with her -- he was her main assistant. 'Cause she was a widow lady. And so my mother was introduced to my father, and they started to go together.

Kovno was a beautiful city. Yes, there was anti-Semitism -- few people know how anti-Semitic the Lithuanians are -- they're exceptionally anti-Semitic -- but, you know, you can get used to anything. And there was Jewish culture in Kovno -- 5:00they went to [Rosmarin?] to have -- that was a delicatessen where you'd get anything. You went to [Kapulsky?] -- that was where you had a coffee. And in fact, [Kapulsky's] opened up in Israel -- he survived -- part of the family. They opened up a coffee place in Israel -- coffee and pirozjeny -- pastry. By the way, I have some Russian in my Yiddish, because my father spoke seven languages, so I -- I -- you know, I don't even realize it sometimes. It's a Russian friend that says to me, "Oh, that's a Russian word!" (laughs) So anyhow, they went to the Narodne dom, which was a theater where a lot of Yiddish performers came -- from America. Two of the very famous Yiddish performers that came were the Jacobsons -- Hymie and his brother -- the Jacobsons. And they did "Chiribim" (sings) "Chiribim, chiribum, chiribim-bum-bim-bum-bim-bu-bum." The song became so popular that gants kovne hot gerudlt mit "tshiribim" [all of 6:00Kovne was dancing to "Chiribim"] -- everybody was chiribiring. So it was a real Yiddish cultural world. And my father was very social -- my mother not so, but my father knew everybody. So they would go out in the evening, and they would go on the [sosey?] -- on the boulevard. Because yes, there was anti-Semitism, but you knew where not to go, you know when not to go -- you know, because they were very -- highly Christian, and there were certain holidays where you didn't go out, there were certain times where you didn't go out.

So quite honestly, if not for the war, my parents undoubtedly would never have come to America. Because they were very successful. My mother eventually married my father. In fact, she took him home to meet her parents, and my father loved the fact that my mother came from a very large family, 'cause he missed it -- he only had a brother. So here, he had six more siblings. And it was wonderful. They got married outside -- old time, you know? The entire town came. It was 7:00beautiful. And then they went to live in Kovno.

For a time, things were fine. But then, they began to hear the rumblings of the war. My mother's father used to go to Germany before the war, and he could feel that things were changing. He used to take his -- my grandma would make him a chicken, and he would take his britshke -- it was like a covered wagon, or whatever -- and he'd go to Germany to do some business -- that's my grandfather. And he would come home -- and he was a man of few words, but he would sit at the table, and my mother said he would tap his fingers and he'd say, "You know, something's going on in Germany." This was even bef-- you know, when Hitler was just beginning. "Something's going on there. It's not going to be good." But nobody believed. It was the Russians that were really considered the animals, you know? It was for the Russians, 'cause they had experience with them. The Germans were cultured. Hey, you know, cultured -- Beethoven, Mozart, Bach. So 8:00the war began, and first, the Russians came in to Lithuania. The Russians took over because of the pact they made. When the Russians came, my mother said they -- the Russians -- they brought their music. They brought their music, they brought their life. Of course, my father at that time -- just before the Russians came -- was the leader of a business, and that wasn't good -- capitalist. So he immediately -- his workers were very good to him, so they said, Become one of us. We won't tell. So he became a worker. He became a worker. But the interesting part is that those Jews that were capitalist that were sent to Siberia returned after the war. They came back. They lived. So my mother -- she was at home, and then, the Germans came. The Germans came in in June '41. Now, the first people before the Germans -- when the Lithuanians heard 9:00that the Germans were coming, there was a pogrom like no one had ever seen before. Slobodka, which was one of the most religious places in Kovno, where -- we are known -- Lithuanians -- for learning, academia, and a lot of very religious Jews were there. The Lithuanians went in there and -- it's been written, but the world does not know how anti-Semitic -- what they carried on before the Nazis even came. Then, of course, when the Germans came in -- you know, then, of course, it was terrible for the Jews. My mother was pregnant with my brother when the Germans came in. In August of 1941, about that time, the Germans set up the Kovno ghetto. And my mother and my father and her brothers -- her three brothers just happened to come to see her, so they were forced into the ghetto. And my mother was pregnant. Actually, when the Germans came in -- 10:00I'm gonna back up a little bit -- the Jews knew it wasn't going to be good. The Russians were running -- my mother told me the Russian soldiers were running toward Russia. And the Jews were running, too. Because the Jews had heard from some of the escaping Polish Jews that had come to Lithuania that things were not good. They didn't believe it. It's not to be believed. But the Lithuanian Jews realized, it's not gonna be good, so they started to run with the Russian soldiers. Unfortunately, the German encircled them. They encircled them. And my mother was pregnant -- how far could she run? My brother was born in September, and this was in June, so she was pretty far. And as I say, her brothers were with her. The Germans encircled them, and eventually, they came back to their homes, and in August, as I say, they opened the Kovno ghetto. Everybody had to go in. My mother, when she went in to the Kovno ghetto, she picked a house that 11:00was not on the main road in the ghetto. The ghetto was in Slobodka, the poorest part of the town -- very, very poor. Thirty-five thousand Jews from Kovno went in there. Thirty-five thousand. And as I say, my mother picked a house on a road that was not so visible -- not on the main road. In a farvorfn vinkl [secluded corner], as we say -- in a corner that nobody really saw. Which is good, because whenever the Germans were looking for workers, they would go down the main street and they would go into the houses. And my mother already knew, it's, you know, better not to be seen.

So then, at the end of October, they had the groyse aktsye -- "the big action." Everybody had to come to Demokratia Platz. Everybody -- thirty-five thousand. And [Rauke?] stood there -- and he was the one who said, "left, right" -- who went left, who went right. My brother was born in September 19, 1941. And he was 12:00an eyfele, a little boy. When my mother stood there, nobody really knew what was going on -- they were just told they had to come to Demokratia Platz, it was a snowy morning -- they didn't know why. But they all stood together. Now, it was my mother, my father, three brothers, and my father's mother. And so when the German saw, he saw all young people -- all young people -- all workers. He didn't -- he didn't notice my brother, who was probably in a scarf. And the old lady -- he didn't see her either, because he saw young people. So they went to life. In later years -- you know, to the left were the people who would be killed the next day. In later years, I was in a show, and one of the people who was an usher, he told me he was in the Kovno ghetto and he was told to go to death, but when the German wasn't watching, he ran over to his brother, to the 13:00other side. I mean, people survived not because they were smarter -- they were lucky. They were simply lucky. So that day or the next day, about ten thousand people were killed by the Germans. Ten thousand. With the major help -- with the major dirty work done by the Lithuanians. Major. And the Lithuanians still will not recognize their part in all of this. So after that, they all went home. And my father -- because he spoke seven languages, including German, and well -- he became the -- part of a slave labor brigade. And he was usually the leader. They made him the leader because when the German could speak to the leader, he was nicer -- quote unquote -- to all of them. He wasn't so -- such a khaye -- he wasn't such an animal. And my father spoke a good German. So he -- my father 14:00would tell me that he worked at a chicken plucking factory, at a chocolate factory. He worked at the Aerodrome -- an airport. And my father always loved music. And he started to write lyrics. Actually, he was not the only one. I've written about this. He was not the only one to start to write songs -- not the music, but the lyrics. There was a growth of creativity. When the body is imprisoned, the soul searches for freedom. And it finds it in creativity. So people began to write -- but not long stories, because if a German caught you writing something, everything -- the shtrof -- or the punishment -- was always death. So, but people wrote -- you know, they wrote in their own minds, or they -- on little pieces of paper -- songs, short forms. So my father wrote lots of songs, and they were published after the war. There was other aktsyes -- other actions. My brother was born. My mother -- nobody knew my brother was born. My 15:00mother carried very small; she never made a thing of it. When he was born, nobody knew -- no Jews, no Germans -- nobody knew. My mother never registered him. To this day, my mother doesn't like it when people -- I talk as if she's alive; she's not -- but my mother never liked it when people knew when she was coming or going. She didn't like it. Doors are a big thing. She didn't like it, she didn't like people watching her. You know, "What's it your business?" So, quite honestly, luckily, my mother's brothers were with her. I'm making this -- even though it's long, I'm making it short. They built a bunker under the house, so that if Germans came by for slave labor, quick -- they could quickly go into the bunker under the house. But they built another one under the woodshed -- under the woodshed out back. And they provisioned it. They had a generator. They dug so deep there was a well. And they also put a box in there -- hermetically sealed, so if my brother would cry, my mother would get in there with him. And 16:00so at the end of '44, when the Germans were burning the entire ghetto to the ground, many Jews already knew that things were bad, so bunkers were built all over the place. Gerke was there. He turned the Kovno ghetto into a concentration camp at the end. And they -- they -- they burned and -- and -- and fire and flame that last month -- in July of '44. And my mother and -- it was ten people that went down into the bunker under the woodshed. There were only three bunkers left at the end of the war, when the Russians came to liberate. So there must have been maybe thirty people -- at the most -- left. Most were found. And unfortunately, when women were found with children, they would say, "Listen, we'll give you back your child if you tell us where there are other bunkers and 17:00where there are other children." My mother never told anybody anything. So nobody knew.

MG:How long were they in the bunker?

DC:Thirty days. Thirty days. And my mother's flesh began to rot. And once a -- uh, those things -- cricket jumped into the bunker. It was hot. Luckily, the Russians were nearby, because if they would have had to last for more than thirty days, they might not have made it. All of a sudden, at the end -- at the beginning of August, in '44, it got quiet. And somebody had to go out to see what was going on, 'cause they were in the bunker. My mother didn't let anybody -- she went. She went. She says, "I don't look Jewish, and if they see a man, and if the Germans are still around, they'll shoot him immediately." So they were talking, and she put on her little kerchief, and they -- her brother opened up this -- it was a little tile that opened up -- quickly, he looked out -- her 18:00brother -- and he saw that the bridge was in the river, and there was just destruction all around. And then she -- she went out, she rushed out, and she was walking. I can only imagine what she was thinking as she walked through such destruction. She was walking, walking, and from a distance, she saw somebody -- she saw a soldier. But she couldn't make out the color of his uniform, because she had been underground so long -- she didn't know if it was a German uniform or what. It was a little soldier. He came closer and closer, and he spoke to her in Russian. He said, "You're liberated. You're freed." And from there, there were -- they came out. The Bricha took them, eventually, to Germany, to the DP camp. And her brothers -- because the Russians wanted them in the army -- they were separated and they went to Israel. So I was born in the DP camp, in Freimann, in Munich. And we waited for the quota to come to America. And our 19:00great uncles -- my mother's mother had -- she was one of -- she had many brothers. And her bobe [grandmother] -- her mother -- had sent all the fellows to America. So I had, like, four uncles in America. And we were listed in the "Jewish Daily Forward" as survivors. They found our name, and they said "gut geheysn [approved]" -- that we could come to America, that we would not be on welfare, that they would take care of us. And so we came to America April 26, 1949, on the [General Langfitt?], a refurbished American troop ship. And my uncles met us there. We lived with them on Shore Road in Brooklyn for a little while; then, they found us a place in Bensonhurst. And we began to live in America.

MG:Before we talk about that, could I go back, just for a moment, and ask you about your father's music -- the songs that he wrote, the poetry. What were some 20:00of the themes of these things?

DC:One of them was almost a letter to the world. A letter to the world. "I want to tell you, my friends, what's happening here" -- I'm translating, and singing in my head -- "the slavery that people are going through, the heartache that people are going through. Veykhinke hentelekh ken nit mit dem leyd [Soft little hands can't handle the suffering] -- soft hands are -- like under Pharaoh, are making this brick." It's beautiful. It's beautiful music. I have recorded it for the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC. When they did an exhibition on the Kovno ghetto, they asked me to come down to sing my father's songs. People who were in Kovno -- survivors -- it's true, when the Russians came, there were only thirty left, but there are survivors from the Kovno ghetto who were sent to Dachau -- you know, they weren't liberated by the Russians. My father put his music -- put his songs -- his lyrics -- to Russian melodies. "Siniy Platochek" -- "The Blue Kerchief" -- is one of his most famous. And to other Russian melodies, to 21:00Yiddish melodies. But popular melodies. My father always liked a good melody.

MG:And were these songs shared in the Kovno ghetto?

DC:Oh, yes. Yes. People knew my father. And in fact, in the DP camp, he directed shows -- he wrote shows -- for the Holocaust survivors. And so later, when my father came here -- became a manufacturer on the Lower East Side -- I would go with him sometimes to deliver goods, and he'd say, "Take a look, dos zaynen mayn aktrises, mayn aktyorn -- those are my actors and actresses," who were in the shows in the DP camp. So he was a talented man. But in America he came to make money, so he became a manufacturer again.

MG:So let's talk about life in the United States, okay? How did your parents sort of re-create their lives here in the United States?

DC:Well, my mother was a heroic woman. She -- she always dreamed of America. She 22:00dreamed of Hollywood. And even though she had gone through so much, she still loved the theater. You'd think that someone who'd seen hell would put that away, but she still loved it. And she gave it to me. I took singing lessons and acting lessons and dancing lessons. And meanwhile, she helped my father start his business again in America. First, we were in Bensonhurst, and then he moved to the Lower East Side, on Allen Street, near Delancey.

MG:This is a similar business as he had in Lithuania?

DC:Yes. Yes. He did it again. She said to him -- at first, he came and he was partners with a man and they had a dry goods store, but it didn't go well -- and in fact, it went very poorly, and he was very unhappy. So my mother said to him -- my mother was, you know -- she said to him, "Listen, you did it there, you can do it here, and I'll help you." And I remember we had a little Singer sewing machine. Actually, it wasn't so little -- it was one of those old ones that have the pedal on the bottom. And he started making skirts for ladies -- ladies' wear 23:00-- at home. My mother would help him. And he started to do that. As far as the theater, my mother loved the theater. I took singing, acting, and dancing. We went to the Yiddish Theater on Second Avenue. And once, I was walking down the street with my mother -- we were passing by the Anderson Theater on Second Avenue and Second Street -- and I don't know why, my mother said, "Why don't we go upstairs there in the Anderson? Maybe there's somebody there." And wouldn't you know it, I went up -- I was about sixteen -- I went upstairs with my mother, and there was Jacob Jacobs. Jacob Jacobs was the last of the -- he used to call himself the "letste mohikaner" -- the last of the Mohicans. He was still doing Yiddish theater on Second Avenue -- he was writing it, he was producing it, he was directing it -- he was everything. So he came up -- there he was! My mother started talking, and she spoke a knakediker yidish [a magnificent Yiddish] -- I mean, a yidish fun yidishland [a Yiddish from Yiddishland]. And at the end, she said, looking at me, "Ikh hob a tokhter. Zi zingst, zi tanst, efsher host a role 24:00far ir?" -- "I have a daughter, she sings, she dances, maybe you have a part for her?" So he said, "No" -- he says, "I'm all cast, but I'll -- I'll call you." And you know, when somebody says I'll call you, you don't sit by the phone. No. But he called. He called the following week. And he was so breythartsik -- he was such a generous man -- that in fact, at that time -- in '66 -- they took over the Loews Theater on Second Avenue and Eighth Street, and they turned it into a Jewish movie house. Ben Bonus and Mina Bern turned it into a Jewish movie -- Yiddish movie house. They started to show Yiddish films, and between the films they put up a vaudeville show. And this was his competition -- Jacobs. He said -- he called up, he says, "Listen, I have a part for you. Are you still interested?" I said yes. He says, "I'll introduce you." So -- he says, "I'll meet you in front of the theater and I'll introduce you to the producers, then you audition." So there he was. It's like a wedding. He met me at the doorway, he walked me down the aisle to meet -- to audition for Mina and Ben Bonus. I 25:00auditioned. I got into their vaudeville show. I remember they used to show "Yidl mitn fidl [Yidl and her fiddle]," all the films of Molly Picon, all the different -- you know, Moishe Oysher -- and between the films, they put up a vaudeville show. And I was in it. And that began twenty-five years of work on the Yiddish stage.

MG:Wow. Before we talk about that, I would -- I want to hear all about that -- can we back up just a little bit? Was Yiddish your first language --

DC:Yes.

MG:-- growing up?

DC:Yes. Yes. My father loved Yiddish. And he would always say to me, "Af yidish, af yidish [In Yiddish, in Yiddish]." My father was a real Yiddishist. And I remember one day, somebody was moving to Florida, and he came in with a bookcase full of Yiddish books -- all of Sholem Aleichem, Sholem Asch, even some of the French writers -- all in Yiddish. My father read it, and he encouraged me.

MG:And did you speak Yiddish --

DC:At home?

MG:-- when you entered kindergarten or first grade?

DC:My brother even more so. My brother's seven years older than I, so -- yes, we spoke Yiddish. We spoke -- it's my first language. And in fact, even now 26:00sometimes, I'll think of the word Yiddish first, and I have to find it in English.

MG:And did you learn -- pick up English by school, or the street, or --

DC:Yeah, quick. Quick. Yes. Yes. Well, I came here when I was really very small. And in fact, when we came in on the General Langfitt -- I mean, there's so much to tell -- one evening, my mother and my father, my brother and I, we passed the Statue of Liberty. You know? What could be better. Goldene land [Golden land].

MG:What was your neighborhood like, growing up in the fifties in Brooklyn?

DC:Bensonhurst. Bensonhurst was Jewish-Italian. It was a wonderful neighborhood. And my brother liked handball. He doesn't -- to this day, he's not a group person. He likes single things. He's -- handball, things like that. He's very much like my mother. I'm much more like my father. And it was a very, very good 27:00life. A very good life. Even now, when my brother and I get together, which is terrific -- we had one bedroom, it was wonderful -- we were together.

MG:And beyond theater and literature in your house, what other aspects of your home in the '50s would you call Jewish? I mean, holidays, or -- Shabbos or --

DC:Well, my mother was an early liberated woman, and the first thing she liberated herself from was the kitchen. But every now and then, my father would say, "Nito keyn fleysh in shtub. Vos i'do? [There's no meat in the house! What's going on?]" -- "There's nothing to eat! There's no meat in the house!" So then, he would make -- she would make him meat. But -- she'd make him ayngedampte fleysh [slow-cooked meat]. Ayngedampte fleysh -- the name itself -- a "damfer" is an "underwater ship"; "ayngedamft" means the meat went underwater. So it's potted meat she would make him, and katletn, which is like hamburgers. And every now and then, she'd make something called "petsha [dish made from jellied calves' feet]." Most people don't even know what -- it's kind of frozen, it's in 28:00a gel -- I myself am not quite sure, but my father, gelekt a finger [licked his fingers] from it -- it's really -- you know. As far as the Jewish holidays, I know my mother was -- it was always a behole [chaos] -- my mother was always in a big rush when I came to holiday (laughs), because it's -- it's almost time, darf bald bentshn likht [we must bless the candles soon]. I have to say, my mother was much more religious before the war. But after the war, she always -- she lit her candles Friday night, and I still do. My mother's not around anymore, but I still do, as well. My mother always felt that it was good to be on his good side -- in case. (laughs) In case. I mean, she saw such horrible things -- such terrible things -- that it's hard not to question. It's easy when you don't have to experience like that. But she saw people at their very worst.

MG:Let's talk now about -- we started to talk about Yiddish theater, and your role in that, and your performances. There's so much to ask about. Could you share with us just general impressions, feelings, personalities, perhaps, that you knew (overlapping dialogue)?

DC:Well, I worked with Joseph Buloff -- that was at the Folksbiene. I was in "Yoshke Musikant," and I played Shayna. It was a beautiful role. I played a woman that -- I fall in love with this man, and he leaves me pregnant, and I want to come back. So Joseph, he knows how to write. A very famous scene in that is when he writes a letter for me to my boyfriend that he should come home to me. It's a beautiful, beautiful play -- "Yoshke Musikant."

MG:Is this a drama or a comedy? A musical, or --

DC:It was made a musical, because I'm a singer, so -- I'm basically a singer, a lyric soprano, so they put music to -- but it was a drama. And he's such a fine 30:00performer. And of course, as we were talking earlier, he was the first Ali Hakim in "Oklahoma." And of course, he went on to do "The Pocket Watch." I worked with David Opatoshu on Second Avenue. Many people know him from "Exodus"; he played the leader of the Irgun. Such a gentleman. Unbelievable. Unbelievable gentleman. You know, you really get to know people when you work with them, and he was a gent. I also worked on the radio at times with Zvee Scooler, who was very well-known. He used to do the commentator, Mr. Yiddishist, you know, "From the station that speaks your language, WEVD." He was very important in my life. I did so many shows with so many people. I worked with Mike Burstein. I worked with Bruce Adler. Unfortunately, he passed away, but I was his partner many times on stage. I've sung songs -- Sholom Secunda wrote music for me. And at the 31:00same time, I was going to school, 'cause I love learning. I really just love learning. And so I got my PhD writing about the history of Second Avenue. And to this day, people call me up, because my dissertation is at the Forty-Second Street Library -- where the lions are. People still call me to ask me questions and tell me how much they enjoy the work. Zvee Scooler got me my first job at the Museum of the City of New York as the Yiddish theater curator. And in 1982, I did their exhibition, "A Hundred Years of Yiddish Theater in New York City." A few years ago, I did my exhibition on Molly Picon at the Lincoln Center Library. And since then, I've been doing -- I first did it, actually, at the Lincoln Center Library -- my salute to -- my "Musical Salute to Molly Picon," which is a concert lecture that I do. I first did it at the Lincoln Center Library in the Bruno Walter Auditorium, and now I'm doing it every place -- very successfully. 32:00People love it. I tell her story in English, and I sing the songs she made famous in Yiddish.

MG:Did you actually -- you met Molly --

DC:Yes.

MG:-- Picon, I assume --

DC:Yes. Yes.

MG:-- and can you tell us about that?

DC:Yes. I met her a couple of times. When I was at the Museum of the City of New York, we once did an exhibition of child stars on the New York stage. And she was a child star, so I went to her home, and she gave me a picture of her as a child star. And when the exhibition opened, she sent me a letter. And then, in later years, she gave me -- I have a couple of letters from her, actually. And then in later years, she gave me a costume of hers that she wore in her first show that she did in New York City, "Yankele" -- the kapote, a religious boys' outfit, black satin. A wonderful little lady. A talent. A true talent. I've done my Molly Picon show also in Montana. I've done it in Salt Lake City. And I just recently did it in Michigan. And in Michigan, the audience applauded so much 33:00that without even thinking about it, I went up to the mic and I said, "I look for all of you everywhere, and whenever I find you, I'm home." And it's true.

MG:So from the Molly Picon show, you do the narration in English --

DC:English.

MG:-- but you sing the songs in Yiddish --

DC:Yiddish.

MG:-- and do you translate for the audiences, or do you just --

DC:I tell them the story of the song. Most all the songs are love songs. It's not so difficult to understand. At one point, she said, she doesn't have the guy; at another point, she's happy she does have the guy. It's always that kind of thing. And I also say to the audience that, while we all may speak different languages, we're all human beings that feel the same and express ourselves in different ways. But it's all the same. My audiences are wonderful. I've often said to people that a Yiddish audience is different from an American audience, 34:00because it's a community event. It's not just a show that you go to, you applaud, you applaud, and leave -- no. I even say to my audience, "By the time you leave here, you'll all know each other." It's -- it's -- it's a reunion.

MG:Do you find your audiences are basically older people now, or are there younger generations that seem to be interested as well in Molly Picon and Yiddish?

DC:There are younger people that are interested. If you don't know where you've been, how can you know where you're going? How do you know what you have? I'm a great believer in that. Right now, I'm a professor at Pace University in speech. My father -- this might be interesting for people to know -- my father always wondered what the rest of the world was doing while he was just trying to survive. And that really has led me to what I publish about. I've written about 35:00Father Coughlin, who was a major anti-Semitic speaker on radio during those years. I've written about the German American Bund meetings at Madison Square Garden. I've written about Lindbergh and the America First Committee. So I am very much a creation of my parents -- and my history.

MG:That's very interesting. Can we talk about the Yiddish theater? You had gone into it in the sixties -- 1960s -- I always think that -- was that the end of the golden age of Yiddish theater? Was it on the downside by that point? Was there still a strong audience for that?

DC:Well, in the late sixties, a lot of Cuban Jews came. And so there was a revival. Because when Jews came, they didn't know English, but they knew Yiddish. And I remember once I went to a lecture that I.B. Singer gave. And people used to say to him, "You know, you write in a language that's dying." So with his blue twinkling eyes, he said, "You know, Yiddish has been dying an 36:00awfully long time. It takes a long time to really be dead." (laughs) These can last a long time. There's something about Yiddish. There's something about it. As I've said earlier to you, when I hear somebody speaking Yiddish behind me -- you know, when I'm walking down the street -- I always turned around, because I figure, I must know them.

MG:You were in a Broadway show, I think, about Yiddish --

DC:In Yiddish, yes.

MG:Could you tell us about that?

DC:It was called "Light, Lively, and Yiddish" -- "Laykht, lebedik, un yidish." I was twenty-one, and we played at the Belasco Theatre, and it was wonderful.

MG:And was it --

DC:Musical.

MG:This was a musical --

DC:Musical.

MG:-- and was the whole play in Yiddish?

DC:Of course, of course. Oh, I must tell you something I forgot to tell you -- you'll enjoy it. I was in the show "The Big Winner" -- "Dos groyse gevins" -- Sholem Aleichem. And in the show, I've -- I was always the ingenue -- for years and years, I was the ingenue in the Yiddish theater, until I suddenly became the 37:00mother -- I started to get mother roles. But I was an ingenue very long. Anyhow, in the show "Dos groyse gevins," there's a wedding -- my wedding. And I marry this handsome guy, Stan Porter. He was saying the entire Harey-at [first words of the wedding prayer] -- the whole prayer. So people in the audience wrote in and said, Hey, you better change a word there -- because he's marrying her all the time. (laughs) And he was married already. It's really funny.

MG:And it must have been so exciting to be on Broadway itself doing your show --

DC:It was wonderful. Yes. It was wonderful.

MG:And I assume this show was being produced -- they assumed that the audience was going to be limited just to Yiddish-speaking people?

DC:Well, we've always had people that realize that some of the greats came out of Yiddish theater -- Paul Muni, Celia Adler, Stella Adler -- a lot of big people came. In fact, what's interesting is that as soon as -- many times, when things from Yiddish move into the English-speaking world, they make a big hit. 38:00Look at "Fiddler on the Roof." It's really a "Tevye mit zayne zibn tekhter" -- "Tevye and His Seven Daughters" -- it's Yiddish. As soon as it got into English, somebody in Japan -- they love it, they love it. I mean, and look at I.B. Singer, and look at so many others. As soon as it kind of -- Stella Adler became one of the prime teachers of acting -- English-speaking acting. So we have something to say to the world.

MG:Was there -- this is sort of an academic question, I don't know if we should change our pace here -- was there a connection at all between Yiddish theater and mainstream Broadway theater?

DC:A lot of the people -- well, actually, you know, we've had some marvelous musicians -- some marvelous composers in the Yiddish theater -- Rumshinsky, Olshanetsky, Secunda. If they had been in the American theater, you'd all know 39:00them -- like Lerner and Loewe. The music in my show -- I mean, the music is delicious. It's beautiful. It's simply beautiful. I work with a pianist who was unfamiliar with the music, and she plays it -- she loves it. Unfortunately, it's trapped. You know, there are other writers besides I.B. Singer who are terrific, but they're not translated yet. So, you know -- unfortunately -- so -- either more people have to learn Yiddish, or more things have to be translated. Perhaps both with happen.

MG:What's it like doing a show -- like in the Molly Picon show -- in, like, Salt Lake City or Montana, places where you don't usually expect to see a sizable Jewish presence?

DC:Well, when I did it in Montana, for example -- Missoula, Montana -- Missoula 40:00has a university -- in fact, I was taking a course there in the summertime. And so a lot of the professors came, a lot of the people who work at the university, and there is a couple of hospitals there. So we had a crowd. And it was a Reform temple -- Reform. And I remember that the head -- the rabbi was a woman. She's crying. So I said to her, "Why are you crying for? I mean, I have an effect on people, but not usually like an onion." She said to me, "Well, who knows when we'll hear something like this again." People love it. Yiddish is more than a language. It's really -- it's not only mame-loshn [mother tongue language], it's mames loshn [mother's language]. It's the language that the six million -- most of them -- spoke. It's their language. You know, unfortunately, we think of it -- or it's been made to -- it's every day. It's Hebrew that's the special language, at least among the religious. But the many -- the millions that died 41:00-- have made Yiddish a holy language, too.

MG:Have you done any of your performances at all in Israel?

DC:No. Yiddish is -- unfortunately, they were so eager to make Hebrew the language that Yiddish wasn't encouraged there. It wasn't encouraged there, it wasn't encouraged here -- so it couldn't find a place. If it survived at all, it was by accident, because unfortunately, too many of the Jews that came to America were concerned with their children becoming successful Americans. And so -- and they did a pretty good job, because when you meet people and you say, "You know Yiddish?" "Oh, yeah." "What do you know?" "Gey esn, gey shlofn" -- "go to sleep," you know, "go eat." But that's where it begins. You know, I had somebody ask me the other day -- I said, "Listen, Yiddish is a language." They said, "Yeah? How many words are there." So -- you know.

MG:Beyond your professionalized area with Yiddish, do you get to speak Yiddish 42:00much with other people ever?

DC:Well, my brother is -- doesn't look like he has anything to do with Yiddish. He's very American, very -- you know, so every now and then, when somebody speaks Yiddish and he understands, they kind of look, like, what happened here? To my brother. Every now and then, when I meet another Yiddish speaker. Where I work, it's not that many Yiddish speakers. But I read Yiddish, so my language is there -- very much there. And when I do my show, I use a lot of Yiddish expressions, which are completely lost on people. So I translate it, and they love it.

MG:That's great.

DC:Because Yiddish expressions are really so terrific.

MG:Shifting just a little bit back to when you were talking about your academic 43:00career, you talked about researching people like Father Coughlin and Charles Lindbergh. What kinds of things do you do with their work and speeches?

DC:Well, I look into -- basically, my area is speech. So I analyzed Lindbergh's most anti-Semitic speech that he gave -- about the Jews being the major problem of America. And then, of course, Father Coughlin had his radio program every Sunday, and they say that in New York, you could walk down the street on Eighty-Sixth Street in Manhattan and you could hear. And there were anti-Semitic actions in New York City. I think a lot of people don't realize that during World War II, there were a hundred and thirty anti-Semitic organizations in America. And the Congress was very isolationist -- very isolationist. If not for Pearl Harbor, I don't think America would have entered the war. And you wouldn't 44:00be interviewing me.

MG:You've taught other courses -- I know you teach a Speech course at Pace --

DC:I teach "Propaganda."

MG:"Propaganda." But you've taught courses on, like, "History of Theater" or "History of" --

DC:Yes, "Yiddish Theater" --

MG:-- "Folk Song" --

DC:"Folk Song," "Jewish Comedy."

MG:Where have you taught those courses?

DC:At the Herzl Institute. I've taught a lot at the Herzl Institute.

MG:Where is that at?

DC:That's in New York City.

MG:In New York City.

DC:But I teach -- at Pace University, it really doesn't have anything to do with Yiddish. I teach "Speech," "Interpersonal Communication," "Intercultural," "Nonverbal." And "Propaganda" is probably my favorite course, because I introduce how you can convince people to do things without them even realizing. And that, to me, is very -- it means a lot to me, because I like to present to them how somebody like Hitler did it -- how he did it. Because I think that's what is the big question in so many people's minds. I think that's why there 45:00have been so many books written about Hitler, and even that time -- that a person who looked like a human being, sounded like a human being, could convince others to do what they did. And we're not talking about a nation of fools. So, where did culture get them?

MG:That's fascinating. Just reflect a little bit about the role of Yiddish. I mean, obviously, you think it's important, plays a big role in Jewish culture. How do you see it in the broader culture -- the role of Yiddish? Do you see it playing a role there?

DC:In the broader culture?

MG:Beyond just Jewish culture?

DC:Well, I think that more should be done in Yiddish. I think that -- it begins with us seeing it as worthy. I think that's why I like this place so much, is 46:00that it gives respect to a language that has long awaited it. As soon as we begin to respect a language, the world will respect it, as well, and will get interested in it. So I think doing -- you know, there was a time, in the forties, when everybody went to the Yiddish theater -- and even people who didn't understand Yiddish -- because they were told there's something to see. It's important for us to first respect our language -- to present good things in our language. And others will come and will have the same respect that we have for it.

MG:What do you see as the future of Yiddish? Do you think it has a future?

DC:Who said it? I think it was Golda Meir. "If we want it, it will be." Was it her? I'm not quite sure.

MG:I'm not sure.

DC:I'm not sure. One of the leaders. We have to want it. You know, Yiddish performers want to perform, Yiddish writers want to write, but -- especially performers -- it depends on the audience, you know? There are places when I call 47:00up and I say -- I do it with my Molly Picon -- that "Oh!" They say, "Oh, yes, come! We can't wait! Oh, the audience, they can't wait!" Other places are not interested. I wonder sometimes why. But they're not ready. I think what's also happened here is that the third generation has more of an interest in Yiddish. The first generation that came here, they knew Yiddish and they really wanted their second generation to become successful in America. Their children, however, want to know who they are. And so they want to know -- and, hopefully, their children's children.

MG:Are there any other topics that -- we went through a whole big range of things very dynamically. Is there any -- topics that you'd like to touch upon that we haven't talked about?

DC:Oh, gosh, we really went through --

MG:Specific stories, or anything that you, you know --

DC:Well, I do want to say that as I get older, I realize the great tragedy of World War II. I wonder -- because my background is directing -- theater directing -- so I -- and a director, before a director does something, they already see it in their heads, and then they just replay it in front of the audience. I see the tragedy as greater. As I get older, I see the tragedy much bigger. Because my father would say, "Veyst [You know]? Hitler hot geharget a velt" -- "Hitler really destroyed a world." And in it, he destroyed the very roots of Yiddish. And we who were brought here, it's as if you took a plant and you took it by its top and you tore it out and you put it down in America. America is a wonderful country, but look what you did. You know? Look what the 49:00world did. It's -- I see the tragedy as greater. And I also see that I am very much the child of my parents. I am very much their creation. Both in my love of education, my love of the theater, and even the way I look at life -- my perspective. You know, I've said to people, if I became a Buddhist -- for some reason I went meshuge and became a Buddhist -- I'd still be a Jewish Buddhist, because I think that religion is -- even more than religion, it's a perspective. It's a look that you have at life that stays with you. It's the way you see things.

MG:And did your parents get to see you in Yiddish theater?

DC:Oh, yes! Oh, my father could live there in the back. I can still see him in the back -- even see him in front of my eyes now. You know, klaybn nakhes [feeling proud]. And my mother -- that's why I'm so glad that she was around when I on Broadway, she was my dresser. I mean, it was what she wanted -- my 50:00mother always wanted the very best for me. And she saw the theater as being -- I mean, think of it. She had seen people in their worst. And theater to her was a world beyond the world where things were beautiful. And it is.

MG:You mentioned that direction was something that you specialized in.

DC:Theater directing.

MG:Theater directing. What opportunities did you have in Yiddish theater to direct?

DC:Well, the first thing I did -- it's interesting that you brought it up -- was I got my MFA in theater directing at Brooklyn College, and the first show that I did was "Grine felder" -- "Green Fields" -- Peretz Hirschbein -- in English. In the round.

MG:In English?

DC:In the round. And Jacob Ben-Ami came to see it. In fact, the -- I was very active then in the Yiddish world -- the whole Yiddish theater world came to see it. It was wonderful. And I remember one of the most fascinating moments I had was, I started I think it was the third act with a very famous folk song in 51:00Yiddish -- just the music playing, and it was in the dark. As the lights were coming up, the audience began to sing. It gives me goosebumps now. The audience began to sing, "Oyfn pripetshik brent a fayerl [By the hearth burns a fire]." They sang it -- as the lights came up. It was just -- it's beyond audience.

MG:This was being sung in the play --

DC:No.

MG:No?

DC:No. My actors were not singing it -- the audience was singing it.

MG:They were singing it --

DC:They were singing it in Yiddish.

MG:What was motivating it?

DC:The music.

MG:The melody was being played?

DC:The melody was being played as the lights were coming up.

MG:I see.

DC:So the audience began to sing. That was otherworldly.

MG:That's wonderful.

DC:That's community. It's not just theater. Theater -- you know, when you think of theater, it's, I come, I look. I come, I look, I finish looking, I leave. That's not Yiddish theater. I come, I live. I live, I'm with my -- mayne mentshn 52:00[my people].

MG:And "Oyfn pripetshik" is a --

DC:Brent a fayerl.

MG:-- is a story of -- education, basically?

DC:Yes. Yes. Oh, it was -- whenever I think of it -- it was a beautiful, beautiful moment. I went to see "Bounty" -- it's on Broadway now, with the African American actress --

MG:Cicely Tyson.

DC:Yes. She had a moment --

MG:"Trip to the Bountiful," or --

DC:"Trip to Bountiful." She had a moment there -- I went to see the show -- where she began to sing this hymn where they sing in church, and the audience began -- I got goo-- I know that feeling, and I thought to myself, This woman is going to win an award. The following week, she won. I mean, it was the same feeling -- her people were with her. And I'm -- I'm far from African American tradition, but I was drawn into it. It was so -- mystic. It's something beyond. 53:00It's something -- it's something -- it's like when my brother -- right now, I live in Brighton Beach, and we have a lot of Russians. So it's become very -- they brought their nightclubs on the boardwalk, it's wonderful. My brother goes there to eat. And he said when he eats in a Russian restaurant, it's like his DNA reacts. He feels like he should be eating that, that he's home. It's part of him. The same with these peop-- when they began to sing with Cicely Ty-- I knew she was going to -- it was something terrific.

MG:Great. Any other moments that you can think of in Yiddish theater?

DC:You know what it is? It's like when you ask somebody -- you have your favorite song, and suddenly you forget all the songs.

MG:I know, I mean there's just --

DC:I've had so many. I've had so many wonderful times in the Yiddish theater. I remember that when I was with Ben Bonus before the shows, he would always bang the cymbal backstage -- that the show was gonna start. It was funny. And I remember one of the first shows I saw was "Yidl mitn fidl," Molly Picon and Leon 54:00Liebgold. And Molly Picon in the show falls in love with Leon Liebgold, but he doesn't know that she's a she -- he thinks that she's a he, because she's dressed up like a boy. And I remember I fell in love with him, too -- Leon Liebgold. The only trouble was, when I finally met him, I was sixteen, and he was sixty-five.

MG:(laughs)

DC:So, you know -- but I've known some marvelous people in the Yiddish theater. I'm happy to be the messenger. Because sometimes I feel they're like the messenger from "Camelot." I -- I'm happy to tell about them. I had a wonderful time with all of them. It's terrific. Because again, it's not like -- you're part of something that is not just theater, but it's a culture.

MG:Were there particular themes that were part of Yiddish theater, or was it all over -- was it so varied that you can't really say there were certain themes 55:00that were consistent in Yiddish theater?

DC:Well, I remember there was always a lot of weddings. (laughs) And I was usually the one getting married. Always a lot of weddings. Always a lot of okh un vey [alas and alack]. But in the end, everything turned out okay, because, I mean, we are an optimistic folk, or else you wouldn't have made it to today. We do believe that, you know, "Abi gezunt [Be well]." We do believe that "A'm'lebt, derlebt men [If you live, you live through it]" -- if you just keep going on, it'll get better. We're optimistic in that. And I think that's what our culture is saying -- it may not be so good now, but it's gonna get better. And when you think about it, look how we've survived. I mean, we really -- we go all the way back. I mean, there's a chain of us to today. I noticed when I was watching the films upstairs that you ask people, "What can you tell them for the future?" And I was thinking what I would say in case you asked me that question. Wherever I go, I feel like it's not just me sitting here. It's all the people. You don't 56:00see them? It's all the ones behind me. You know, I represent them. What I say, what I do. So I'm careful. 'Cause I can't -- I can't hurt them any. And they did a lot for me to be able to sit here and talk to you. You know, I wrote -- it's the fiftieth anniversary of Pleasantville -- the Pleasantville campus where I work at Pace University -- so I wrote a little piece called "Coming to Pace." And at one point, I wrote how, when I was walking alone, I really wasn't alone -- 'cause everybody was walking with me. All the people. You know, I never feel alone. Never. I'm here, you know? Who would have dreamed? That I would be here. Isn't it something? It's a miracle. And then when I came to Brooklyn College, somebody once from Arkansas, she -- we got close, she said, "You know, I always used to think Jews were a Biblical people" -- in other words, they lived and 57:00died then.

MG:Yeah. (laughs)

DC:So I mean -- you know. We are special.

MG:Okay. Well, thank you so much for chatting with us. It was wonderful. I really enjoyed it.

DC:Thank you. I enjoyed talking to you.

[END OF INTERVIEW]