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again to Glickman in Chicago, and when he went
to war for Mintz's (the husband of Mrs. Keni Lipzin)
theatres in Cincinnati and Pittsburgh, to fight the
competition from Thomashefsky, he became engaged by Mintz,
with whom he worked for ten years, and also for a
certain time with Jacob P. Adler, until 1912,
when he became independent and started to manage the
provincial tours of individual actors and entire New
York troupes.
Later he became a partner
with the retired actor Sigmund Weintraub, and after his
death, Relkin continued to manage independently the
tours across the province.
The well-known poet Jacob
Glatstein recalls the following episode in relationship
to Relkin's activities:
".... I was once a poet
without a job, and the then editor of the 'Morning
Journal,' Jacob Fishman, suddenly called me from a
literary cafe and offered me a small position at the
newspaper. It was a strange proposition, but at that
time I was not in a position to be choosy ... The "Jazz
Singer" [the future first American talkie with Al
Jolson] had already been played on the stage
for several weeks, but he [Relkin] dragged himself
around without much success. Edwin
Relkin, the colorful theatre man, was well-known in
Yiddish theatre circles, and he also had access to
Broadway. He came to Jacob Fishman with a proposal, that in order to push the "Jazz Singer" forward, one
must make a novel out of it that should last several
weeks in the "Morning Journal," and the Jewish masses
then would begin to
storm into the theatre, ... Jacob Fishman decided that
I, the unemployed poet, would undertake the work in an
opposite fashion -- instead of how it is ordinarily done -- to dramatize a
novel, I will "romanticize" a drama. The theatre became
a partner to the proposition ... the agreement was that
the novel should run for eight weeks in the newspaper.
The "Journal" needed 240 dollars to undertake [such a]
play on Broadway, and someone would have to underwrite
it.
When they saw the drama and
the dramatist Samson Raphaelson .... we had obtained a
copy of the drama, and it initially became clear that I
had undertaken to do a bitter job. The drama takes place
in the span of one day, the evening of Yom Kippur, and
it ends on the night of Amud. How can one extract
[enough material] for an entire eight weeks? ... I
decided that one should immediately forget the staged
drama and begin to spin the novel from the same
beginning, from the jazz singer's childhood. I
introduced dozens of new heroes that weren't in the
drama. I made Shabbat for myself and continued and
continued. Only when I thought that I had already
reached the very text of the drama, to the appointed
eight weeks of the agreement, I received the "bitter"
news that the novel was a great success, that it
strongly helped the box-office on
Broadway, that it must be drawn out at least for
fourteen weeks. I obeyed and continued until Edwin
Relkin preached the glad tidings, and the "Jazz Singer"
was a colossal success."
Joseph Rumshinsky
characterizes him this way:
"Formerly of the Yiddish
theatre world, as if he fell from heaven, [blown in]
with a windstorm, a thin young man with thick glasses,
and a soft, black hat like a cowboy. His tie was usually
loose. In the winter, in the great frost, with his hat
in hand, if he put it on it would stream out from behind
him. He didn't just go, but he ran; he didn't talk, he
only shouted. Always an enthusiast. And the most
remarkable thing was that an American young man, who
does not know any Yiddish -- and when he utters a
Yiddish word, it is like a foreigner -- should be so
enthusiastic about Yiddish theatre and Yiddish actors.
And he began to speak -- better said -- paint like a
mill -- to the Yiddish actors, to the stars: -- What do
you mean, you sit in one place when the whole world
(this was his Yiddish) is waiting to see you? The Jews
of all America dream of you, and you sit here? That
said, Kessler, Lipzin, Moshkovitch in one theatre? I can
make three separate companies (troupes) out of you. When
Keni Lipzin plays for packed houses in Chicago, Kessler
nevertheless plays in Pittsburgh for yet greater houses.
Today Adler -- he used
to shout -- "Give me the king and the
Jewish theatre, I'll make a fortune with him.")
And he bewildered the minds
of the Yiddish actors, even of the stars. He used to
address each star as "Governor," and they used to act
like they had become governors, and even they
liked that each of the "stars" were themselves kings. They
were also surprised by the fact that he knew when all
the trains arrived, and when they left, without a
timetable. And the entire Yiddish theatre world cooked with this new Moshe Rabbeinu
[Mose], who wanted to split
the road from New York to Chicago, and even to San
Francisco.
The first company that
toured under Relkin's management was the
Kessler-Lipzin-Moshkovitch company. They were a great
success. The province embraced them, and they had not
taken a theatre in New York for the coming season, but
on Sundays they used to play at the Thalia Theatre.
The great patriot
[fan] of Relkin at that time was Jacob Gordin. Relkin's
tempo pleased him very much, and also his scope. Even Jacob
Gordin was pleased that there would be nights when he
would receive twice the royalty (a certain sum for
staging his play), which used to be divided often among
the company, that each of them had performed in the play.
Actually on a certain Sunday daytime production,
Jacob Gordin caught Relkin on the stage, gave a speech
and presented him with a gold watch. The managers of the
theatre, Joseph Edelstein and Leopold Spachner, were not
pleased with Relkin, even the conservative manager
Joseph Edelstein, who at that time was associated with
Boris Thomashefsky, used to complain. He used to
maintain that the "Hobo of Chicago" (he used to call him
that) wasted the company. Indeed, Relkin, during the same
Passover, snatched Boris Thomashefsky with a company and
left Bessie Thomashefsky in the People's Theatre with a
company -- both made a lot of money, but Joseph Edelstein
was not at all pleased.
The Edwin A. Relkin fever
and tempo in Yiddish Theatre was felt strongly. He had
not only woken up the Yiddish theatre, but he made the
entire Yiddish Theatre a timetable. When they used to
ask a Yiddish actor: "How are you?," he used to answer:
"I make trains." Even after a New York season, when all
the companies were free, Relkin then used to fly. He
used to speak on three telephones at one time, and
telegrams used to fly, fifty a day. ... His telegrams
often times would be very comical. He had a way of
arranging a large production of "Joseph and his
Brothers" in Chicago, where he had advertised one
hundred people on the stage, that there would be camels,
donkeys, elephants, with an orchestra of twenty
people. There arrived a letter from the Chicago manager,
that they buy tickets, and it will be a great success,
not looking thereof, that the place is very large.
Relkin answered in a telegram: "Order more brothers." He
wanted, quite simply, that a few more sons should be
added ...
He had once asked "if you can stretch
Passover" (if one can make Passover longer). Relkin very
much maintained that the week of Passover did the best
business in the province. On Passover he used to send
matzos and Passover wine to all the Jewish-English
managers on Broadway, such as the Shuberts, the Fromans,
Ziegfields, Charles K. Harris, Al. Wood, also even to
non-Jewish managers."
In an article about Relkin
(in 1923), M. Osherowitch recalls that:
"In 1909,
when Madame Kaminska was here, Ab. Cahan, the editor of
the "Forward" wrote several articles about her, in which
he strongly praised her acting in "Nora," and Relkin
engaged her to play "Nora" in eight cities in the
province. Then he issued in a special leaflet everything
that Ab. Cahan had written about the Kaminska, and about
the tour across the eight cities he made eight-thousand
dollars. ... E. Relkin presented Yiddish "stars" for
eighty or more cities, where they played Yiddish theatre
now in the United States and in Canada. The "stars," who
he sent out across the entire country, they had nothing
to complain about. ... So did Leon Blank ... in one
season he made thirty-thousand dollars in the province.
Samuel Goldinburg ... in the province he made
twenty-thousand dollars, and Clara Young ... also made
many thousands, playing in the province in her
repertoire. These three "stars" ... They have been
standing under Relkin's fuller command the whole time
this season. He maneuvered them and sent them around
from city to city, and now he had an entire army of
"stars" under his command -- Rudolph Schildkraut, Bessie
Thomashefsky, Bertha Kalich, Boris Thomashefsky, Aaron
Lebedeff, Ludwig Satz, Ben-Ami, Maurice Schwartz, Rose
Karp, Max Gabel and Jennie Goldstein, Dora Weissman,
Mrs. Prager and Juvelier, and Goldberg and Jacobs from
Harlem's Lenox Theatre."
S. Dingol writes:
"Here there is one person in New York who plays an
entirely special role in the Yiddish theatre world. He
doesn't have a Yiddish theatre, and he is connected with
every Yiddish theatre, side people know him little,
therefore there is not a single theatre person who does
not know him, or who does not have any business with
him. His name is Edwin A. Relkin. .. That the man Relkin
is the great manager of Yiddish theatre, and controls
dozens of theatres in various cities, from New York to
San Francisco and more. ... Under his management, no
less than two hundred Yiddish actors play in dozens of
various cities of America every season. ... He
introduced the New York stars in the province and also
showed them to the Yiddish audience in the smaller
towns. Like a field marshal, he works his strategic plan
on the entire line, from New York to California, and so
on. Everywhere there was his people and his theatres.
Everything that he needed to do he did from New York by
telegram ... others in Relkin's place would maintain
large offices with secretaries, stenographers, business
agents, with an entire staff, and a great tumult. Relkin
did not have any offices. He maintained his office in
his pocket. There lies the letters and the telegrams
that he received all the time, and in a small pocket
lies a small book with addresses and telegrams and
"dates."
About the 1932-33 season, Relkin was
connected to the Yiddish Art Theatre as a manager.
About his uproarious "Yoshe Kalb," Rumshinsky says:
"It is remarkable, Relkin never had, nor did he want
to participate in a New York Yiddish theatre, even in
the successful times of Yiddish theatre in New York. And
still a remarkable thing, that being American-born, and,
as was already said, not even being able to speak
Yiddish well, he did not think strongly about plays that
were about American Jewish life. He loved genuine
Yiddish plays. To Relkin, there exists up to this day
two plays: these are "The Rabbi's Melody" and "Yoshe
Kalb." He claims that he loves a play that he can
recommend to the rabbis, especially to the reform
rabbis, and even to priest, that they should be able to
recommend from their pulpit in their sermons to their
congregations. And indeed he had done this for "Rabbi's
Melody," which he had shown all across America In every
city I used to, traveling with "Rabbi's Melody," bring
rabbi's to the theatre, also cantors, priests, because
Relkin used to send out advertisements to them at their
homes, and to their places of worship. He did the same
for "Yoshe Kalb" in New York. he even made a performance
especially for Orthodox and Reform rabbis.
In the
province, for Relkin, there was no such choice, although
he always managed the productions. But in New York, he
had been invited many times to manage certain plays,
[but] he refused, because he had to like the play first.
Relkin said: "Give me a good story, a lot of rabbis, and
good Yiddish music),[and] I will upset the world, and
everyone will come to see it."
About the
special "Yoshe Kalb" performance on a certain afternoon,
Zalmen Zylbercweig says that Relkin fussed about it for
several weeks, tormenting Schwartz and the actors, that
they should play for free. A staff of people was sitting
and handing out free tickets to the rabbis, but in the
end none of the Orthodox rabbis came to the performance.
Schwartz looked around the entire hall for a rabbi with
a beard. The only beard that he stumbled upon was from a
well-known
cultural and societal activist Zrubbel, who, as a guest
then in America, came to see the performance.
On
11 October 1952 Relkin passed away in New York.
The actor David Dank characterized him as such: "The big
black broad hat was always with him on the top of his
head, from which protruded short brown hair and
represented his burnt forehead (from the sun) with short
overgrown eyebrows, which stuck out from behind the
round dark rims that always sat on his nose, and from
the clear white glasses, two sharp brown, smart eyes
flashed out.
The blue suit, which he always
wore, had that top pocket in the jacket -- that was his
"office." What was presented to him, he put in his
pocket. Many important actors were featured there -- he
had the biggest stars in his pocket ... He possessed a
fiery impulse and fantastic ideas. With that, he brought
more to the theatre than all the managers put together.
He often employed the entire "profession," not only the
union members, but also the "not-allowed." He hustled
for so long until he started a permanent "carousel" of
companies, which traveled all over the big cities of the
United States and Canada.
He was the "theatre
himself." He knew everyone, and the "profession" knew
him. Even before the season started, he already knew who
would be busy and who would stay out, and he kept an eye
on them, because he always wanted to employ as many as
possible. He understood that needed to employ more young
talent. He often said: "Theatre is a garden. It should
always bloom there. New talents are like fresh flowers.
Who doesn't love any fresh flowers? That one wants, that
the theatre should exist, one must bring in fresh
forces. Without them, the theatre will fail."
Edwin Relkin never spoke on the telephone, but he wrote
so loudly that we could hear him across the entire "Cafe
Royal," because he made everything great. To him there
never was any small income. We had him say, "In Chicago
one took in eight hundred dollars," to him it became
eighteen hundred dollars. He made everything that had to
do with the theatre bigger than it was.
When
Edwin Relkin stopped tummling, the entire theatre became
still. With his death, everything that had to do with
theatre, died. No more professional tummler, no more
this good, flourishing Yiddish theatre,"
The
theatre man Wolf Mercur, who yearlong work together
with Relkin, writes to us:
"He was born in
Chicago. He barely made it through several classes in
school, and his career had begun in and around the
theatre. He was always a hard worker and his knowledge
never increased. Those who surrounded him always
corrected his mistakes, turned them into comical
anecdotes that he himself enjoyed, and also spread them
to create a legend and expose himself as a legendary
figure.
He used to twist words, for example,
"Judaism" to him was "Yuadizm," "Singapore" was always
"Signapor," "Episode" was never anything different than
"Ezipod."
He is famous for his big-heartedness:
he telegraphically arranged to send out a troupe with
Latayner's play, "Joseph and his Brothers," but the
troupe only had eight people, and extras were needed to
play the twelve brothers. When we had asked him about
the twelve extras, he responded by telegram, that as it
is a spectacle with gigantic proportions, fifty brothers
should be engaged. In every notice about the Beit Din
scene in "Yoshe Kalb," he insisted that "the bloody
Sanhedrin" should be remembered (Z Zylbercweig mentions
that when he published the program for "Yoshe Kalb" for
the "Art Theatre," and the printer pointed out that
there was still a bit of space left to submit something,
and he said that the song, "Ikele un Mikele," (meaning
"In Khalinhu, in Khadunnu (There is none like our God,
there is none like our Lord.") should be submitted.])
He once arranged an undertaking in Los Angeles or a
troupe with Jacob Silbert, but the situation ended, and
he needed to send another "star." He telegrammed: "Kill
Silbert (meaning "abrogate"). I send you this and that,
and he will make a "real killing" (a true death, i.e. a
great success). The police have the "killer" waiting by
the train, where everything is finally clear [?].
As to the plays on the Yiddish stage, he wanted the
greatest budget for advertising in the English press,
and when he had a play on the English stage, such as
"The Jazz Singer" with Al Jolson, he would demand a
large budget for advertising in the Yiddish press.
Actually, he was the one who directed the advertisements
in the English press for Yiddish plays in New York. His
medium for advertising were: posters (up to twenty-four
times larger than ordinary posters), brochures, adhesive
paper and matches. Moreover, like many theatrical men,
he was very superstitious, it did not dare to be printed
on yellow paper. He also never accepted a half-dollar
coin. He knew everyone in the theatre, and was close to
the greats before whom he stood with his head uncovered,
taking off his big black hat, like Belasco used to wear.
He used to diligently read a Yiddish newspaper, with his
messengers, the agents, who he used to have in the
various cities, wherein he used to the theatre
attractions; he used to write in English three to four
times a day, "Special Delivery," twenty words,
Kidesh-levo'ne oysyes. He used to send telegrams
"collect," which the press agent later had to pick up
later from the stars or the troupes, and this often led
to scandals.
To him the "Lexicon" was a "racket"
(a fraud device). The same for the theatre in general,
and everyone who was with the Yiddish theatre,
especially everything that was Jewish with all the
institutions for culture and science.
His
connection with the "Yiddish Art Theatre" had begun
during the season of "Yoshe Kalb," then he became the
general manager of the troupe as it was led across
America and Europe, and he remained the manager with the
"Art Theatre" for the offerings of "Brothers Ashkenazi,"
"The Family Carnovsky," and "Shylock and His Daughter."
When he felt that a play would not have any success, he
used to stay away from the theatre, and if a successful
play drew weak revenues in the big city, he used to, as
in Chicago, run to his mother's grave, asking her to
strive in the heavens for [his] success.
In
1942-43 Relkin was the general manager for Jacob Kalich
during the production of, "Oy iz dos a meydl," with
Molly Picon.
With all his faults: bombastic,
unpolished, banal, he was interesting, naive, colorful,
and very needed for the Yiddish theatre, which needed
was his office (from his pockets), his understanding and
his energy."
Sh. E. from
Wolf Mercur.
-
M.
Osherowitch -- Nyu York shtelt tsu "stars" far 80
shtet vu m'shpilt yetst Idish teater, "Forward,"
N.Y., 19 May 1923.
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S. Dingol -- Der Idisher
teater iz itst a milyonen-biznes, dort, 24 August
1924.
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Joseph Rumshinsky -- "Klangen
fun mayn lebn," New York, 1944, pages 355-361.
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David Dank -- "Hinter di
kulisen," New York, 1959, pages 76-85.
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Jacob Glatstein -- Prost un
pshut, "Daily Morning Journal," N.Y., 15 Sept. 1961.
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