“Nothing ever hurries me,Nothing ever worries me,Easy come,Easy go,It’s all the same to me!”
“Nothing ever hurries me,Nothing ever worries me,Easy come,Easy go,It’s all the same to me!”
“Nothing ever hurries me,Nothing ever worries me,Easy come,Easy go,It’s all the same to me!”
“Nothing ever hurries me,
Nothing ever worries me,
Easy come,
Easy go,
It’s all the same to me!”
I just got them mixed, Papa—See?
[This does not have quite the effect whichJackinnocently had hoped for. TheCantor,shocked, has sunk into the settee.Sara,frantic in her eagerness to avert the swiftly impending disaster,is fluttering betweenJackand his father. She is too excited to know what she is saying.]
Sara
Jakie, where did you learn to sing like that?
Jack
[Not precisely a diplomat, strong in his own sense of righteousness]. Where did I learn to sing like that? From Papa—who else? He taught me to sing. You forget that I’m an American boy, and Papa is from the Old World. If he were born here, like I was, he would probably be singing jazz, too.
Cantor
[Rising toweringly aboveJack]. You shouldn’t speak like this from a Cantor—do you hear? God will punish you! He will take vengeance!
Sara
Look, Yosele, supper is ready, and our son is home. Come, we should eat and be happy now. Talking can be later. It’s your birthday. Jakie, it’s today your Papa is sixty years old.
Jack
Don’t I know it? The 14th of August—that’s why I’ve been so anxious to get home today. I’ve been picturing this home-coming for a long time. I figured now I’m doing all right, and it’s been a long time, so I’ll go home. I thought you’d be so glad to see me.
Sara
We are glad, Jakie. I’m so happy. I’m crying with happiness.
Jack
Yeh, and Papa, he’s happy, too. [He crosses to settee—gets package from bag.] To show you I haven’t forgotten, I brought you a birthday present, Papa. The finest praying shawl I could get. [Moves to table.] And I’ll make you a little speech like I did when I was a little boy. Many happy returns of the day, Cantor Rabinowitz!
Sara
[Pleading]. Look, Yosele.
Cantor
[Looks straight ahead. His voice is numb]. Thank you.
Sara
[Eagerly]. Oh, Yosele, this is like I dreamed lots of times!... A praying shawl.... That’s just what your Papa needed!... This is a fine piece of goods, Jakie.
Jack
You bet it is. As soon as I found out that Tom Brady had imported these from Palestine, I said right away, I got to get one for my old man—my papa.
[TheCantordoes not move.]
Sara
[At a loss for something to say]. Tom Brady?
Jack
You never heard of Tom Brady? He makes the most beautiful costumes for the stage.
Cantor
[Slowly turning toJack]. The stage? What do you mean, the stage? Theatre? Are you in the theatre business?
Jack
Sure, Papa. I’m an actor. Jack Robin—that’s me.
Cantor
An actor! An actor in the theatre! You tell this to me—who comes from a family of five great Cantors! And after all my plans that you should be a Cantor, too! And now you take this singing that is holy to me and make it common!
Jack
What’s wrong with being an actor? I meet nice people—I make good money.
Cantor
[Furiously]. Money, money, money! Pickpockets make money, too!
Jack
Aw, don’t say that—don’t talk like that.
Sara
Yosele, please!
Cantor
If there must be actors, let there be, but not a son of mine. Not a Rabinowitz! Their work has been laid out for them by God.
Sara
[Almost hysterically]. Where are you going to act, Jakie? Downtown here?
Jack
No, Mama. I’m going to act uptown. In English.
Cantor
What kind English acting are you doing uptown?
Jack
[Responding to his mother’s mute appeal]. Come on, Pa, let’s celebrate your birthday, and then some other time I’ll talk about my work.
Sara
Come, Yosele, look. See the diamonds what Jakie brought me. Ain’t that nice? For a mama diamonds, and for a papa a praying shawl. Yosele, he’s got in the satchel so many nice things. [She moves toward the bag.]
Jack
Now, please, Mama, he doesn’t want to see that.
Cantor
I’m asking you—what kind English acting you are doing uptown?
Sara
[Takes out prayer book]. Oh, see, Yosele! He’s still got his little ivory prayer book what you gave him when he was confirmed.
Jack
It’s a funny thing about that prayer book, Ma. When I was traveling on the road, I bet I left a million things behind, but I always carried that.
Sara
See, Yosele, he didn’t forget he’s a son from a Cantor.
Cantor
What kind English acting are you doing uptown?
Jack
Papa, it’ll take some time to explain. It’s hard to tell you in a few words. Can’t we wait until after a while—
Cantor
It ain’t hard I should tell you the work I’m doing. I sing to God. I pray. It ain’t hard to tell the kind work your mama is doing. She is a Cantor’s wife.Sheworships the Almighty.Sheknows the sorrows what has come to the descendants from Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, to the children of Israel.Sheis living to be a good wife of a Cantor.... Once she wanted to be a mother of a Cantor, too, but she found thiscouldn’t be. It ain’t hard for us to tell you the kind of lives we are living. What kind of life are you living?
Jack
[Exasperated]. I told you. I’m an actor. I sing. Just like you sing. Only I sing in a theatre.
Cantor
[Fearfully]. What kind singing?
Jack
Didn’t you hear me? I sing jazz songs. Ragtime.
Cantor
[Stunned]. Mama, did you heard what he said?
Sara
Jakie, you are fooling!
Jack
You’re right, Ma. I fool, too. I’m a comedian. I get all dressed up in funny clothes. I sing funny songs and make people laugh. They pay money to come and hear me. They’re going to pay big money soon. Right now, Mama, I’ve got a big job with one of the biggest producers in New York City, with a show called “The April Follies.” And if I make good, I’ll get a big salary, and you’ll be proud of me—you’ll see.
Cantor
A joke maker! A jazz singer! Oh, my God in Heaven! Does it mean nothing that Rabinowitz isthe name of great Cantors? Does it mean nothing that there is a God?... You are no son of mine. I never want to see you again.
Jack
[Hopelessly]. All right, all right. [Moves to settee, begins to pack his bag.]
Sara
Jakie, tell him you are sorry. Tell him you are ashamed.
Jack
Ashamed—what have I got to be ashamed of? Shall I tell him I’m ashamed because I worked like a slave to get my big opportunity? Did I come home broke? Did I ask for anything? No. I came home because it looks like I’m going to be successful, and I wanted to share it with you.
Cantor
I don’t want to share anything with you! Go back to your sidewalks!
Jack
[As he packs his bag]. All right, all right. You’re not giving me a chance, that’s all. Why do you think I came home? I came home because I want to have your love again—that’s why. I came home because I thought I could bring together all the things in my life that are dear to me, that made me happy from the time when I was a little kid till now—singing and playing in the streets—the East Side—shooting craps—baseball—mymama—my papa—the synagogue,—and now my work in the theatre.
Cantor
Don’t you mention the word synagogue in this house again!
Sara
Yosele, couldn’t you listen to him? Couldn’t you see he is trying to tell you something?
Cantor
To such words if I listen God will burn me with lightning. Better I should be dead than my son should holler unholy words in my ears! Get out! Out from my house! You loafer from the sidewalks! You tramp! You bum! You actor in a theatre!... You jazz singer! [He is seized by a fit of coughing, and he sinks into a chair.Sarahastens to his side.]
Sara
Jakie! The water! From the sideboard! [Jackgoes quickly to sideboard, pours a glass of water and brings it over.] Yosele, you shouldn’t excite yourself so. Look, Jakie, see how white your Papa’s face is. [Takes glass of water fromJack.] Here, Yosele, drink it slow. Jakie, my son, come, tell him you are sorry. Tell him you are ashamed.
Jack
How can I, Mama? If I can’t be proud of being a jazz singer, then I can’t be proud of anything. It’sall I’ve got, Mama, it’s all I am. [Gets hat, stick and bag, then pauses.] Well, there won’t be any more arguments around here on my account, I’ll tell you that. I was away for five years—I can stay away longer. I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel so bad, Papa. But you can make up your mind to this. I’m a young fellow, and I’m going to live my life in my own way. I’m not going to stay down here and sing prayers that don’t mean anything to me any more. Maybe I could do it when I was a kid, but I’m not going to do it now. I’m never going to do it. That’s all. [ToSarain lower voice.] Well, I’m going to the hotel. I’ll call you up as soon as I get settled. [Goes to door.] Goodbye, Mama. [SaraindicatesCantorsitting, broken, by the table.] Goodbye, Papa.... I’m very sorry—I’m very sorry that you just—don’t understand. [He goes.]
Sara
[TouchesCantoron shoulder]. He’s gone, Yosele. Our Jakie is gone.
Cantor
[Without moving, head sunk on chest]. Did you heard how he sang? The same sighs, the same tears I taught him in the synagogue—that I put in his voice he should sing to God—now he uses them to sing in his jazz music. [His hand on the table encounters the praying shawl whichJackbrought.] A fine birthday present I got. My son brought it to me. A praying shawl from Palestine, from the dirty hands of a loafer.
[He rise.] Burn it! [He moves toward the settee.] Put it in the stove and burn it!
Sara
[Goes to him]. Oh, Yosele, you are breaking my heart when you speak like this! And I tried to be so happy on your birthday!
Cantor
[Stares at her incredulously]. Happy—happy? You are happy? You look in my face and tell me happy you are?
Sara
[With a tragic attempt to smile]. Sure! Look at me, ain’t my face smiling? [Sits besideCantor.] Why shouldn’t I be happy? Ain’t it today you are sixty years old?
Cantor
[Doesn’t seem to hear; mutters]. A surprise—that’s a fine surprise I got....
Sara
[Proudly]. Ain’t it you are mine man—my Cantor?
Cantor
Sara, my dear one, you are a good wife, and you were a good mother. You don’t deserve such a son.
[Faintly from the hallway is heard a boyish voice singing “Red Hot Mama.” Neither theCantornorSarahear it as yet.Saracontinues.]
Sara
All right, all right. Forget all your troubles tonight. Lawyer Adler from uptown—he is coming at eight o’clock. The Luryas and the Goldsteins are coming too,—with automobiles. Your birthday—
[TheCantornow hears the singing, which is coming closer. He raises his hand. His face is suddenly the face of a corpse, as the door opens andMoeyenters, blithely singing, “Every time I look at you, I want to hotter Hot Tamales.” He sees theCantor,stops his singing, says, “Good evening,Cantor,” and then moves—a well-fed little boy—to the chair by the table, as the curtain falls.]