A history of Russian Jewry with memory at its core

by REBECCA ROSEN LUM, Bulletin Staff

In “Imagining Russian Jewry: Memory, History, Identity,” Steven Zipperstein has embraced a history beyond events, exploring how those who left have mentally revisited the land of their origins.

In this deceptively slim volume, Zipperstein examines the psyche of history and historians. He gives history an added dimension by looking at the feelings and perceptions of those who have lived it or written about it.

“There is meaning in perception and imagination,” said Zipperstein, professor of Jewish culture and history, and director of Jewish studies, at Stanford University. “These are people’s dreams and need to be taken seriously -- very profound things: hard to get at, yet important to get at.”

He begins by exploring novels, from the early decades of this century when works were characterized by an utter rejection of the old country to the mid-1950s, when a “warm subversion of the facts” suffused literature, creating a rich, lacy memory of shtetl life.

“My interest here is in what American Jewish writers saw, or thought they saw, across the waters from their rooftops,” he said.

It will strike a powerful chord for those whose parents were eager to extricate themselves from their past, excising all vestiges of the newly embarrassing manners, language and culture.

“A lot of what I really wanted to explore was the silences, explicit silences,” Zipperstein said. “The move was so wrenching, people were so often left behind, and there was consequently so much guilt. You made a choice to leave. And we all know how easy it is to feel guilty even if there’s no real reason to. So, they pictured (Russia) as completely stark to justify why they left. And that need became more acute after the Holocaust.”

The book began to take shape in his mind during a 1993 visit to Russia and while teaching in Poland in 1995-1996.

While in Russia, Zipperstein unearthed the massive and unindexed archival files of Piotr Marek, a Russian Jewish historial who died in 1920. Town maps, diaries and volumes of letters had been stuffed into unmarked envelopes in no order.

Put together, the papers provided an intimate picture of childhood and community life, schooling and gender issues, including the lives and education of young girls, previously unavailable to historians. That picture provided a rich and telling counterpoint to the transmogrifying memories of transplanted Jews and their chroniclers.

The novels of Anna Yezierska provide the foreground for this discussion. In “Bread Givers,” she proves the relationship between a young Jewish woman and her father – a brutal, scholarly patriarch who is unwilling (no doubt, unable) to adapt himself to America and who expects his wife and daughters to satisfy his needs. In “Red Ribbon on a White Horse,” the culture’s treatment of women – shabby, by Yezierska’s earlier accounts -- is barely noted.

In a much more academic second chapter, “Reinventing the Cheder,” Zipperstein describes the usually dim, airless and frigid schoolhouses in which a captive audience of young boys spent as much as nine hours a day.

The melameds responsible for schooling the children were wretchedly inadequate teachers. Illness and untimely death were common. Yet, the most vehement critics became ardent defenders during a period of reform after the turn of the century.

“It was widely believed that a dangerous cultural slippage was taking place,” he writes.

In Odessa, where by the late 1870s most Jewish-owned business were open on the Sabbath, with observance shriveling to perfunctory ritual. In the family of a successful exporter, “the only moment of true passion he recalled was the terror that gripped his family at the prospect of economic catastrophe during the Turko-Prussian War of 1877-1878, when the outlet from the Black Sea was closed and grain shipments were disrupted.”

Rich in historical detail, the book is also enormously personal.

“This book was built around three main concerns,” he said. “To give readers a fairly intimate glimpse of what it is to write Jewish history, to suggest a clear sense of how Russian Jewry has been seen by historians and others, and the way historians have influenced perceptions beyond their desks.”

“Imagining Russian Jewry: Memory, History, Identity,” by Steven Zipperstein (139 pages, University of Washington Press, $14.95).

Carl Reiner yaks it up about his ‘mostly happy’ tales

by REBECCA ROSEN LUM, Bulletin Staff

Why shouldn’t Carl Reiner be happy? A giant in the entertainment industry, he has enjoyed a career of gold nuggets, from "Your Show of Shows," which he co-wrote with Sid Caesar in the glory days of television, to the long-running "Dick Van Dyke Show," to such films as "The Jerk," "Where's Poppa?" and "Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid."

His children are "wonderful human beings," and he waxes sensuous when discussing wife Estelle's song stylings.

Reiner has just released a new book, "How Paul Robeson Saved My Life and Other Mostly Happy Stories.” He emerges happy even in the biting, irreverent title story, in which as Corporal Carl Reiner he fends off baiting by a racist staff sergeant through a deft combination of lies and fast wit.

Reiner appeared at the Marin Jewish Community Center Monday night to chat about the book, drawing a crowd of about 425. The talk was part of CenterStage's "Authors and Artists" series.

To many, Reiner represents that perfect blend of heart, win, passion, conscience, intellect and cynicism that personify the term "mensch." At one time, a fair village of such comics dominated TV and film: Caesar, Elaine May, Mel Brooks, Reiner.

"Robeson" is his most recent book. He's written several others, autobiographical to varying degrees, beginning with his play "Enter Laughing." In the stage version, Alan Arkin won a Tony Award in 1963 for his portrayal of the young Reiner. But the 1967 film "didn't really catch on," Reiner acknowledged.

That's still a mystery to him.

"They showed it at the Skirball Institute a few weeks ago," Reiner said during an interview from his home in Los Angeles. "I hadn't seen it in 25 years. People were screaming."

But the grating parents came purely out of Reiner's fantasy. His own parents loved comedy and delighted in his burgeoning career: "When I was a kid, I remember my folks would go to the Yiddish theater," recalled Reiner, who grew up in New York City. "They loved the comics. One time my mom took me with her and we saw Molly Picon. She was brilliant."

They also got a kick out of his tenure at the 63^rd Street Daily Theatre.

"It was only when I was going to go away for the summer to do the Rochester summer theater my mother said, 'Can't you act closer to home?' But then she bought me a Gladstone valise, which was her way of saying she supported me."

Reiner worked in a print shop much like the one in "Enter Laughing." He made $8 a week, and for six months, also performed in little-theater shows at no pay. "You could get a 30-cent lunch at the Stuart Cafeteria," he said. Still, Reiner had such a hard time making ends meet he finally approached his boss at the Gilmore Theatre and negotiated himself a $1-a-week salary.

"Mr. Gilmore closed the door, and said, 'I can't let you tell anyone about this, and if you do I will rescind this offer.' I was dying to tell everyone, 'Hey! I'm getting paid for this!' But I didn't, of course."

In a recent interview, Reiner's longtime partner, Mel Brooks, yawned away much of what passes for topical comedy in films these days. But Reiner said there is much to applaud.

And, he'll have you know, one of the brightest lights in Hollywood is still knocking 'em out: His son, actor/writer/director/producer Rob Reiner. "Robbie has a new film coming out, 'The Story of Us,'" he said. "Of course, that's quite serious."

In comedy, his taste runs to "Seinfeld" (produced, coincidentally, by Rob Reiner).

There's success to spare in Reiner's life, but you get the best sense of who this man is in discussing the things that never quite made it.

Like his son's six-part pilot "The Old Country." To Reiner, the offbeat, coming-to-America comic saga of a Jewish couple early this century represented the sweetness and eccentricity of Jewish life in a way that is seldom done in American media."For that, you have to go to Europe," Reiner said.

Another thing that didn't make it past the pilot: Reiner as the star of what became "The Dick Van Dyke Show."

He based his lead character on himself -- a comedy writer who lived in New Rochelle, N.Y., had a wife and two kids. He played the lead and wrote 13 episodes. The studio chiefs turned it down cold.

Then out of the blue he got a call from producer Sheldon Leonard, who saw the pilot and liked it.

"I said, 'No sir, I don't want to get shot down again. This is as good as I've got.'" Leonard persuaded him to try it again with Dick Van Dyke as Rob Petrie and Mary Tyler Moore as Rob's wife, Laura. Was Reiner distraught at flopping as a leading man? He'd rather talk about Van Dyke.

"Oh! Dick could do it all," he said. "Physical comedy, acting, he could sing, he could dance. And Mary's talents complimented Dick's. If we hadn't gotten Dick and Mary, who were so brilliant, it wouldn't have happened."

Another Reiner hit, "The 2,000 Year Old Man," a collaboration with longtime partner Brooks, reappeared last year with "The 2,000 Year Old Man in the Year 2,000." But don't look for any references to Y2K or technology.

"We decided modems aren't funny. Plus, Mel isn't computer-literate."

But that's not to say changing times aren't important in the funny business.

"Comedy always reflects changing times," he said. "If you listen to comedians, they're usually first to note a changing trend. Chris Rock, one of the big 'mouths' of the decade, is a perfect example." Then again, "At this point, the world is satirizing itself. Look at Pat Buchanan. What luck! He's going to divide the Republican Party so a Democrat can win."

In his films, Reiner created the stock, shpilkes-ridden New York Jewish family that has remained a mainstay in American movies for decades. But the inspiration came from neighborhood families. His own was decidedly secular.

"I was always embarrassed when my friends came over," he said. "We had a separate set of dishes for Pesach, but we didn't have two sets of dishes for every day. I went to shul with my friends...I learned more about Yiddish life from my friends' families than my family."

Just as he crammed for his "bootleg bar mitzvah," held on a Thursday morning with barely a minyan in attendance, his son Rob, otherwise unschooled in Judaism, had his own crash-course bar mitzvah.

"But he was so much better," Reiner said. "You could swear he knew what he was doing."

His son Lucas, a working artist and a writer, married a non-Jewish woman who has studied and fallen in love with the faith -- and has brought a new awareness of it into the family, Reiner said .

His kids "are all wonderful human beings," he said. "My daughter Annie is all P's: She's a psychoanalyst, she's a poet, she's a painter and she's a playwright."

Like the old man, Rob Reiner is a full-tilt liberal. He spearheaded the successful Proposition 10, which taxes cigarette sales in California to pay for early childhood-education programs

Reiner crows when discussing his son's success in getting Proposition 10 passed and crusading for Democratic causes. ("The president was to Robbie's house last night.") But he fairly flames with passion in discussing the urgency of early-childhood enrichment of the sort the proposition will fund.

A dearth of nurturing can spawn violence and racism, he said -- leading him back to the title story and the mean-spirited staff sergeant.

In this book, only "Robeson" is autobiographical, he said. "The rest came out of my mind. I love this book. They really are mostly happy stories.

"How Paul Robeson Saved My Life and Other Mostly Happy Stories" by Carl Reiner (Clift Street Books, 159 pages, $20).

In the beginning was the Word, and it was so cool

Pop culture-infused 'Biblezine' renditions of the Good Book, aimed at teenage audience, draw mixed reviews from clergy

Contra Costa Times
By Rebecca Rosen Lum
Times staff writer

Feb. 12--A glossy, candy-colored magazine with three laughing teenage girls on the cover and the Bible inside has area clergy praising pop culture's value to scripture -- or warning of its threat.

Revolve 2007 has hit bookshelves, promising teen girls tips on beauty, boys and battles with Mom.

Some pastors say "amen" to the so-called Biblezine, which wraps articles around a modern-text New Testament. It may put the Bible in the hands of youths who might otherwise not read it, they say.

Others say the trendy mag trivializes the Good Book.

It is required reading for middle-schoolers at Golden Hills Community Church in Brentwood, as is Refuel 2, a newer version for teenage boys.

"A literal translation is great, but if no one understands it, it defeats the purpose," said the Rev. Cliff Olson.

Unlike the baby boomer generation, today's teens bring little religious literacy with them, he said. The Biblezine's accessible images and text help bridge the gap.

"Jesus spoke in parables," said Brenda Noel, acquisitions editor at Thomas Nelson, Inc., publisher of the magazine-like Bibles. "He took things from the culture people were familiar with and taught through those things."

Anything that makes the Bible resonate with youths is a good thing, said the Rev. Rob Baker, pastor of Oasis Christian Fellowship in Pleasant Hill.

"I don't care if it's a magazine or smoke signals," he said. "One of the last things we need in the Christian community is stodginess, lack of creativity."

The problem? Teens tend to blur the lines between messages of faith and the commands of popular culture, and revolve can blur them further, said the Rev. Tim Barley, student ministries pastor at Valley Bible Church at the Crossing in Pleasanton.

"Over the years people have found ways to soft-pedal scripture and make it more palatable, rather than emphasizing God's standard for us and how we've fallen short of it," he said. "It's there, but the way (the magazine) couples it with trendy issues can be a distraction."

Alarm bells sounded for the Rev. Donald O'Keefe when he learned that the translation is not literal.

"That is scary, because that is paramount to passing an individual's idea of God's meaning along as if it were the word of God, when in fact it is merely his private opinion of God's meaning," said O'Keefe, pastor of United Pentecostal Church of Christ in Bay Point.

The pop look brings God, patriarchs, saints, apostles and martyrs down to the level of "rockers and druggies," rather than lifting up those who've lost their way, he said.

But when revolve exploded onto the market in 2003, it performed so well that Thomas Nelson followed it with Refuel, a version for young men in 2004, real, a hip-hop incarnation marketed to urban ministries in 2005, and Blossom, for younger girls, in 2006.

The line spurred unheard-of sales in the Godzilla-size Bible market.

Fans trumpeted revolve's emphasis on social responsibility and volunteer work.

Critics hammered it, partly because of its language. For instance, the authors explain Corinthians 13:4-5 as follows: "A wise mom once said, 'Take it as a compliment that other girls think your guy is great too. Be secure enough to acknowledge their good taste.'" The King James version reads: "Love is patient; love is kind. Love does not envy; is not boastful; is not conceited; does not act improperly; is not selfish; is not provoked; does not keep a record of wrongs."

Feminists chastised Thomas Nelson for claiming to promote a healthy body image while filling the Biblezine with photos of slim, pretty girls in midriff tops.

Liberal Christians balked at the conservative political slant of the advice. "Blab," an advice column, tsk-tsks at homosexuality and says God wants guys to take the lead in relationships.

Unlike the King James Bible, the New Century Version -- which Thomas Nelson owns -- offers a "dynamic translation." That's a "thought-for-thought" rather than word-for-word translation, said Noel, the Thomas Nelson editor.

"'Dynamic equivalent' right away doesn't rock my boat, but the idea of getting the Bible into kids' hands does," said the Rev. Tony Aria, youth minister at North Creek Free Evangelical Church in Walnut Creek. "With the dynamic equivalent, there's a danger of injecting your own biases in there."

Religious leaders must understand that the traditional black-clad Bible is "a thing of the past," said Stewart Heller, executive director of the Christian Institute for the Study of Media.

"To the degree they can create an alternative to pop culture, they're smart," he said. "This is a battle for minds in the media. If you're going to compete you better get up to date, or your show will get canceled, so to speak."

Increasingly, overhead projection screens replace the pew Bible, and churches employ Web sites to attract or keep in touch with parishioners, according to a 2005 study by the Barna Group, a Christian researcher.

Despite these changes, the Bible commands a killer market. It remains the top-selling book every year, Publishers Weekly says.

Thomas Nelson claims more than 36 percent of that market. The company, which went private in 2006, netted $253 million that year. The entire line of Biblezines has sold more than a million units, Noel said.

The company sank plenty of market research into the layout and design of each Biblezine, she said.

"We go onto the Net to get as much information from the fashion industry we can, and pull what we feel is the color we'll see the most often on the runways," Noel said.

In 2003, that was pink. The new issue features a spectrum of hues from yellow to indigo.

"We make sure there is a scriptural foundation" to the articles, she said.

The company's newest foray is Redefine, for baby boomers. Articles offer tips on caring for aging parents and picking a "hot" second career. On its cover, a couple in jeans and leather jackets ride a motorcycle on a country road.

"We had an incredible struggle trying to get the right look," Noel said. "One of our staffers was driving down the road one day and saw that very thing."