Then immediately afterwards they both went over to Sholem Aleichem. But soon they parted ways. Rubin was busy with many things in poetry and in prose and indeed had great success."

When Jacob P. Adler noticed him, in 1903 in Sholem Aleichem's "Tsezeyt un tseshpreyt [Scattered and Dispersed]," he advised Rubin to become a professional actor. The conditions then to becoming a member in the Yiddish Actors Union, however, were so difficult, and in addition, Rubin was still struggling with his Litvak pronunciation [at the time on the Yiddish stage there came the Volin dialect], that his candidacy to "make an audition" [to join the union] had evoked a great tumult. Adler had even given him several opportunities to act with him, but it did not enable him to become a Yiddish actor. Sixty Yiddish organizations and the "United Yiddish Workshop" stood up for him and demanded an "audition" for him with the Actors Union. That's what happened, and the union might even have left the 'Workshop' because of him, finally thanks to the efforts of an entire group of Yiddish writers, including Jacob Gordin, Sh. Yanovsky and Ab. Chan's stormy article with the title, "Gershon Rubin Must Be Taken into the Union." This opened the doors of the union to him, where he was accepted as a member, and he began to act continuously in the professional Yiddish theatre.

In 1908 Rubin joined Kessler's troupe, where he played for two years and attracted attention to himself for the first time in his role in Shomer's "The All-right-nikes."

About this Boaz Young in his memoirs writes:

"...They also laughed deeply ...for the scene of the actor Gershon Rubin, who had acted in the role of a glutton. When he maintained his gluttonish speech on miting, there was for each word and acting, the laughter and voices of the public which was incredible. Even us, the actors, were not able to hear and laughed with the public for Rubin's speech."

Later Rubin went over to act with Thomashefsky.

In 1914 Rubin was the first to act in America in the role of "Smurla" in Dymov's "The Eternal Wanderer", and he stood out.

In 1917 he acted in Dymov's "The Spirit of the City", and about this Moishe Nadir wrote:

"Gershon Rubin was very good as the perfectly happy uncle Moti who every Wednesday is a little lazy, and every Monday he speaks bad English. This caricature portrayal of Rubin is so filled with a serious understanding, almost tragic, that the eye did not come to the picture, but to it."

In 1921 Rubin was the first to play the role of "Chatzkel Hungershtoltz" in Osip Dymow's "Bronx Express" in the New Yiddish Theatre.

In 1925-6 Rubin played with Jacob Ben-Ami in the Irving Place Theatre in the play "Ship of Saints" and "Shop."

About Rubin's acting in Evreinov's "Ship of Saints," Dr. Mukdoni writes:

"Gershon Rubin plays with style, coldly, but with great grace, calm, but very convincing. His Noah in the interlude [tsvishn-shpil] is the loveliest grotesque I've ever seen.

Rubin can be even better. He still did not learn the 'phrasing' of his role well. Let us hope that in the free days of the holiday he will learn timing and technique, with perseverance learn his "phrasing" and the pleasure from his acting will even be greater."

And about Rubin's acting in Leivick's "Shop," Dr. Mukdoni writes:

"A slightly deJudaized Leyzer, the shop watchman, was played by Gershon Rubin. He's got to be like that: with a chunk of his life having been spent [imprisoned] in Siberia, he combines Russian naïveté with the Jewish trait of philosophizing. So it is moving when he asks: 'Is the fact that Wolf has passed on [or: has left] of no consequence?' And the shop doesn't hear him [or doesn't listen/ignores him]... What difference does it make to the shop where the boss is?'"

About the condition of the Yiddish theatre in America ... has developed artistically for the last few years but is morally sunk The relationships to the theatre on the part of the directors, the condition of the average actor, the constant pursuit of publicity has polluted the air and taken away the desire of the few actors who look at the theater as a cultural force in the Jewish life of America."

Very unhappy with American Yiddish theatre he decided to travel tin 1925 to Eretz Yisroel, where he hoped to join as a Hebrew actor.

In a conversation in the press that was published, it was written that he hoped that there would be founded a folks theatre, because in the "Art Theatre" he did was not engaged, and in the other theatres, where he already had been engaged, he had to dance, therefore he decided to settle in Eretz Yisroel, where he hoped to learn Hebew and play repertoire there, and this is the way of the theatre, which should be close to his heart.

But nothing came of it. He returned to America and again joined the Yiddish theatre. In 1927-8 Rubin played in the "Second Avenue Theatre."

On 28 May 1932 Rubin passed away in New York, and he came to his eternal rest in the cemetery plot of the Jewish Socialist Federation in New Jersey.

The playwright Chone Gottesfeld characterized him as such:

"The deceased had created roles through which he placed a monument in the heart of the lovers of better drama, but he often hadn't an opportunity to play important roles. They usually gave him episodic roles to play. However, at times he had an opportunity to play an important role, he made an unforgettable impression, as was the case when he played 'Hungershtoltz' in Osip Dymow's 'Bronx Express, the 'Yeshuvnik' in Peretz Hirshbein's 'Green Fields,' and 'The Cobbler' in Jacob Gordin's 'Two Worlds,' and other important roles. But also in the small roles that he had played, if they were only human roles ... he crowned them with his specific Rubinish charm.

The condition of Yiddish theatre, however, was similar, which often had not given him the possibility to play roles in which he could manifest his entire brilliance. He was not any owner of a theatre. He was a Litvak and could not free himself from his Litvish accent. ...His genre was characters, and he often came to play in theatres where the plays often did not have any characters. Besides this, the deceased was not a master craftsman as a performer. He was able to act very well or very badly. They gave him a role with a Turkish Yiddish, or with an unnatural action. He could not learn it. One recalls that he begged a composer of a shund play to make him a mute in the play because he can't read his 'Hebrew'. However, when he got a good character role, he worked on it day and night to bring out the character better, and was very natural. He was very natural when he played the most important role.

... The deceased felt embarassed for Yiddish theatre. He often managed to play entire seasons without appearing, except for the seasons in which he played with [Jacob] Ben-Ami. ... He seldom had the possibility to show his true talent. Although he had a large number of Chasidim who had strongly supported him, he almost every year had to lead a difficult struggle for his existence."

Elihu Tenenholtz, who had played with him, portrayed him this way:

"A well-read student, a talented recitator, a good actor of episodic roles, a wise man, modest and good-natured. True, he liked to say something in a kibetz tone, but he was unique in that the 'kibetzed' had to accept it with a smile. ... In our theatre world they were persuaded by Rubin with a 'Rubinke.' The first who so crowned him was our David Kessler, when he played with him in the Thalia Theatre. At the start of his acting, Rubin strongly suffered from h8is colleague actors due to his Litvak Yiddish, but later they all loved him."

Rubin was a master of tricks, anecdotes and kibetzes. Elihu Tenenholz talks about him in several ways:

David Kessler once said to Rubin: "Rubinke, when will you stop being a Litvak? You are a good actor, but your 'Yiddish language' is killing you.' That's when he soon answered: 'By you, Mister Kessler, it is exactly the opposite. You are a great actor, but very often you kill the Yiddish language.'

Once in the actors' Cafe Royal Rubin approached a critic, shook his hand and greeted him warmly. The critic wondered how an actor could be such a gentleman and he called to Rubin: 'Mister Rubin, you certainly have read my review that I had written about you. How come you are not angry with me?' Rubin answered him: 'Angry? May I be angry with you? But the story is like this: If you write well about me, don't blame me. A'right, you don't understand theatre, but if you write when I think it's bad, people will read it anyway.'

When Maurice Schwartz made an unsuccessful attempt to stage "Anathema" on Broadway in English, he again returned to the troupe of his Yiddish Art Theatre. His mood was bad and in order to control his mood a little Schwartz began to speak about theatre in general, about the Yiddish and English "systems" of acting, and declared: "Well yes, well Broadway! I mean, what? May God bless us, do we lack respect for the Jewish people? When the Shuberts invited me, well, did I go there because of me? Should I have done it? I went because of the Jewish people, I went. All the types they put on Broadway nevertheless are caricatures, they make the Jewish people stronger. I went to play there to shine on our Jewish people, to bring honor to the Jewish people. Yes, I am nevertheless myself a child of the Jewish people. But with your playing now on Broadway, do you give the Jewish people so much honor that - let my face be ablaze with shame.'

Once, in the Cafe Royal, there were seated at a table with him several writers from the "Yiddish Tageblat," and it was not impossible for him to at least tell them a good joke, that he himself went to the theatre for the performance and told them "standing" the joke about the Jew who said how he had eaten in a restaurant a lunch that was suitable for atonement and moreover it was still considered a very expensive price, and the Jew ends the story with "What is God doing? I took two silver spoons." Hearing this joke, one of the writers calls out: "Rubinke, It is your luck that we love you, otherwise we would have caused you a scandal here ... what is it, you tell us such an old joke?!" Rubin took out the "Togeblat" from his pocket from the same day and answered: "What do you think, that this is an old joke? Here is what I borrowed, here, in today's daily newspaper."

Joseph Rumshinsky recalls such an episode:

When we had staged Moshe Richert's play about life in Lemberg, Rubin here played the role of a local rabbi. When the action came about in Lemberg, Galiia, every actor tried not to speak in a Voliner Yiddish, but in Galician Yiddish. Rubin also spent a lot of time trying to "break his tongue" in Galician Yiddish, but despite all his efforts, he evoked a Litvak. After that production the author walked over all the dressing rooms of all the actors to thank them for their playing, but Rubin, who was sure that the author bore a grudge against him for speaking Litvak, hid from him, but finally Richter sought him out. Rubin, however, was still scared and answered: "You understand, I am still a baked-in Litvak ... I tried, I tried, but ..."  Richter did not let him finish and pressed his hand very warmly and said: "Rubinke, you are exceptional in the role, and the little Litvak that you had spoken is just fine because the Lemberg rabbi is just a LItvak."

M.E. and M.E. from Joseph Rumshinsky.

• Kritikus -- Rubin's Benefit in the Grand Theatre, "Der arbayter," N.Y., 6 April 1907.

• Alter Epstein -- Gershon Rubin in an art role in the National Theatre, "Der tog," N.Y., 14 Nov. 1924.

• Leon Kobrin --  Inquiries from a Yiddish dramaturg, New York, 1925, p. 52.

• Sidney Goron -- Why the Actor Rubin is going away to Palestine, "Forward," N.Y., 17 July 1925.

• Dr. A. Mukdoni -- "Theatre," New York, 1927, pp. 228, 236.

• Moshe Nadir -- "Mayne hent hobn fargosen dos dozige blut," New Yorki, 1928, p. 121.

• Chone Gottesfeld -- Der ersht-farshtorbener yidisher actor Gershon Rubin, "Forward," N.Y., 31 May 1932.

• Joel Entin -- E. Tenenholtz's jubilee book, New York, 1955, pp. 26-27.

• Leon Kristol -- The Two Schildkrauts -- the son gives the father a Yiddsih theatre as a gift, "Forward," N.Y., 8 May 1959.

• Elihu Tenenholtz -- Gershon Rubin -- "Rubinke," "Forward," N.Y., 14 April 1961.