the Canadian Jewish News, Friday, Aug. 12,1960 - 3
Report From Behind The Iron Curtain
s
Latest Facts And Figures
Community In Czechoslovakia
BY BRIAN GLANVILLE
There were 300,000 Jews in Czechoslovakia before the war; now there are 18,000. Five thousand of them live in Prague, the remnants of an~ancient and distinguished community which has produced Kafka, Frank Werfl, Gottlieb. The pale stones of the Alt Noy Synagogue are a thousand years old; an enclave in the featur-less modernity of the new Prague. Two thousand people a month visit the Alt Noy museum, recently the millenial anniversary was celebrated, but there are many who believe that the community is still older, its origins buried in the days of the Roman Empire.
When I arrived in the synagogue hall a communal meal was in progress. In silence, broken only by the clatter of cheap cutlery against china, a cough, an occasional question, the people sat at long, wooden tables, listening to an old, white-bearded and ascetic rabbi, his face the face of a Rembrandt. He spoke quickly and softly, with a mild, evident pleasure, as though this were in fact a personal dialogue, in which others were privileged to intervene.
The scene, and the speaker seemed a far cry from London— or New York. Nor would there have been much affinity between the congregations. These Czech Jews were above middle age; there was a pitifully significant lack of young people. They were modestly, even shabbily dressed, and there seemed a gentleness about them, a lack of arrogance, attributable, perhaps, to the sheer gratitude they felt for being alive.
"The Jews are integrated here", one Czech—a member of the Communist Party—said to me. "I couldn't tell you the difference between a Jew and a non-Jew." Dr. litis, the secretary of the community, an elderly man of gentle, fragile charm, assured me there was no discrimination. "It is not true," he said. "We have all we want in private life. We have our newspapers, our own information bulletin."
It is true and inevitable, of course, that activity takes place under the shadow of the State. On the wall above the rabbi's head, as he spoke, hung the omnipresent photograph ..of President Novotyn, an ironic and remote "Big Brother." Up-
stairs, in the community offices, one was confronted by hnn again, flanked, as always, by the Soviet and Czechoslovak flags..
The Chairman of the community is Mr. Frank Ehrmann, a dark, vigorous, bald-headed man, in late middle-age. When he spoke one was conscious that to some extent one was hearing the Party Line, yet his conclusions and propensities seemed to be shared by the others. His sjTnpathetic and intelligent young daughter works in the English Department of the St?te Radio, and was educated at Exeter University, during the war. Meanwhile, her father and her mother escaped the Germans by hiding for three years behind a cupboard, in the home
of some Czech friends.
"During the past fifteen years," Ehrmann told me, "there has been a great change in the feelings and character of the people, Jews who never previously did anything of the kind are now injeading positions in factories. Others are working on farms. In Karlsbad, a Jew has been awarded seven distinctions for working in the mines. Other Jews are now working on farms."
Someone else chimed in to tell of "a Jewish housewife who is now one of the best workers in her factory, plating fancy jewellery. It's very hard work. At the same time, (she finds it very satisfying. She makes a lot of money; more than her
husband."
The term "a lot of money" would be an exaggeration; trav-eUing about the country, visiting the Skoda works and the Moser glass factory, I found that pay differentials were ismall, wages adequate — not least becaues rents of the State-controlled property are very low.
Several of the most prominent contemporary Czech writers are Jewish-Ashkenazi, Golacek, and others. "Jews", said Mr. Ehr-mann, "are working in the mining industry, in factories, and, at the same time, as university lecturers, in art, literature, the Cinema, where there are leading Jewish producers. There are Jewish actors, singers, writers.
«»d the chief conductor of ..the State Philharmonic Orchestra, Karel Ancerl, is a Jew.
"People don't care whether one is Jewish or not. . In the Government we know that there are three or four Ministers with Jewish wives."
The community still lives in the shadow of the Nazi horror. Only 200 childr«n survived the infamous Terezin concentration ««np, perhaps the most wicked AN cynical of all the Nazi duplicities. Terezin was set up as a supposedly "model" camp, from which children woud eventually be transported to Switzerland. Within its sombre, fortress walls, nursery schools and clinics were encouraged; the Germans even extorted ..money
from Jews, for the "privilege" of being sent there.
But from Terezin, nearly 15,000 children were sent East to be murdered—an operation in which Eichmann was intimately involved —and ..when Auschwitz was .liberated, gas ovens wereJuiilt at Terezin as well.
Out of this Calvary has emerged one of the moist moving and appalling books which I have ever seen; a book of Children's Drawings and Poems;., all of them executed by the doomed Jewish children, never so rending as wrhen they describe a butterfly ,or depict a tree.
For seven weeks I've lived in here.
Penned up inside this ghetto.
But I have found my people here,
The dandelions call to me
And the white chestnut candles in the court.
Only I never saw another butterfly.
That butterfly was the last one.
Butterflies don't live in here. In the ghetto.
Finally, there was the ques tion of Israel, and the surprising attitude which the Czech community adopts. Perhaps, on reflection, it is not so surprising, nor can one be altogether certain of how many Jews share Mr. Ehrmann's/-plainly "orthodox" — in a strictly political sense—approach. "To a certain extent," he said, "our attitude
ONLY IN AMERICA
BY HARRY GOLDEN
FOOD AND VANITY
t'l-
We know ladies are vain about thin ankles and men vain about a size 14 shoe. Parents are vain about their children, patriots vain about the flag, and graduates of Vic Tanney about their waistlines.
The Old Testament condemns vanity and says all our woes stem from it. But there is an engaging vanity which has im proved the lives of most of us.
People are vain about food. Sometimes tliey are excessively vain, but it is not an unfortunate vanity.
As we say down South, "One thing .<^ure, you can brag on your cooking." The basic test for all food is whether it sustains life. A good cook, narrowly defined, is someone who keeps the family alive with one, two, or three meals a day. And if you're really a good cook, if you can su-s-tain life with grace and beauty, people will bury a multitude of doubts to sit at your table.
No matter how plain the woman, we vv^ill find her one redeeming feature. We will call a fat woman plump, a skinny vvoman lissom, a cross woman arch, and a stupid woman quiet. "What a wonderful thing is metaphor!" And we will do the same with her cooking. The wife who con-.sistently forgets to turn the meat is redeemed by her pineapple upside down cake;
the lady whose portions are so scanty that you all retreat later to the Oriental for some chop suey still gets credit for can-?pes; and the girl who makes coffee ice cream with coffee grounds can claim with justice she makes the best cup of instant coffee. Food is so important to our lives that we all develop and nourish a vanity pbout it.
Ethnic and minority groups are particularly susceptible to this. Jews are very proud of Jewish food and talk more about it, 1 guess than any other group. 1 am Frejudic'ed, but I believe they have something to talk about: blintzes with sour cieam, pastrami, Jewish rye bread, krep-lach.
Italians run them a close aecond. We sliould fall upon our knees and thank the culinary gods that the Italians didn't want to assimilate so much that they neglected spaghetti and ravioli. These foods are already American staples.
The immigrants of Northern Europe brought us smorgasbord which is what you dine upon at a fancy Washington ball. Nor are the New England Yankees so taciturn when it comes to discussing a New England breakfast with Boston baked beans. The New Englanders are probably the best vegetable cooks in the world and I include the French. Up in New England, that's how they determine a good cook, by her vege-
tables and how many different varieties siie can serve.
Of course, French cooking is universally acclaimed. We didn't need a wave of French immigrants either to appreciate cuisine. One or two isolated French chefs at ritzy New York hotels was enough.
The words for sex and the words for food are the first to pass from one language to another. Of the two, the second is infinitely the more linguistically useful. Vanity over food proves that there are bonds which make us part of what Carl Sandburg calls, the family man.
ANOTHER EXCUSE FOR TV
I heard a television panel discussion program in which several fairly intelligent men delivered themselves of the opinion that television is an admirable workshop for writers.
This is nothing more than a canard. It's tfie same principle as giving a child carrots, which he detests, and promising him a good dessert if he eats them. Except the television men are trying to tell us the carrots are the dessert.
First of all great playwrights don't emanate from workshops. Great playwrights eomc out of Washington Market, Princeton University, or the theatre itself. George Bernard Shaw was a music critic, but I'm sure he did this on purpose.
.\nd second, who are all   these great
playwrights? There are millions of hours of television written weekly. I mean no disservice to those few writers who have written both for television and the stage. My point is why should this multi-million dollar medium be considered as a primary stage for something better? Why can't it be good in and of itself?
It reminds me of the people who say that baseball is a game that makes better citizens. Ty Cobb effectively ruined that argument. All Ty Cobb wanted was to win. Anyone who watches a pitcher mop his brow when the bases are loaded is also disabused of the notion that baseball is only a game. It is a life work for the man who plays it, and for the fans who watch it. It has a heaven, called the World Series, and a hell, called the minor leagues.
But the television executives want to call their medium a workshop because they don't want to confess that their writers either cannot or are not allowed to produce their best.
Every newspaperman talks about his novel or his play. What he really has his eye on is the ME's job in Dayton. So, too, with television. The writers don't sit , a-round discussing Shakespears, in fact, they don't even talk like fellows in a workshop, they talk about ratings with the same intensity ball players talk the averages. (Copyright (C), 1960, by Harry Golden and The Canadian Jewish News)
is a critical one. We can't agree with Bomc of the things that are happening there. For example, some of the -minority questions, such as the Arabs. We have seen from our own "experience to what racial dis-, cord can lead. The question of arms supplies from Germany has caused a Jot of indignation among our Jews. When they heard of Arabs being shot in a village on the frontier our people felt very strongly.
"No, they do not want to leave for Israel; those who wish ed to do Bo were permitted to go, and went before 1949. Now, those families are allowed ti go who are divided."
Dr. litis agreed. "Those who have stayed here have done so of their own free will, because they feel more at home here. They really feel as Czechs."
"As far as there have been practical results in Israel," Ehrmann continued, "they have been appreciated. The work of the people is admired, but the policy of the Government is criticised. We would like to see rand here came the Party Line) a democratic .system, and more neutrality in the conflict between East and West."
Czech tanks, I pointed out, had been supplied to the Egyptians.
That, said Mr. Ehrmann, was in response to the arming of Israel by the West. "Israel - is just a little island in the Arab worid, so they should be careful about their policy."
My own investigations made it quite clear to me that the Czech ' Government is carrying on a rigorous and ruthless campaign against the Catholic Church; but this can be seen in political as much as religious terms, for the temporal power and influence of the country's priests had been formidable for centuries. Judaism represents no such threat, and may, therefore, be less stringently opposed.
Are the Czech Jews happy in this grey   new world, where clothes are poor, food inadequate, and the State ruthlessly supreme?   Perhaps they are. After all, they are Czechs, living as Czechs — and accepted by those around them. (Copyright by The Canadian Jewish   News   and Jewish Chronicle Feature  & News Service)
A Humorous Life Story
How He Conquered Hollywood
GROUCHO  AND ME
MELINDA AND I
(This is the eleventh in a series of twelve articles based on the best selling book, "Groucho and Me", by Groucho Marx, published by Bernard Geis Associates at $3.95.)
To those readers who insist on prying into my private life I'll admit this much: I am married to a black-haired brown-eyed charmer named Eden and I have three children. Two of them are grown up. The third is a female moppet named Me-linda, who is thirteen and whose word is law,
A few weeks ago Melinda ordered me^to her room. "Daddy" (she calls me that when Pm within earshot), "I have to_have a party."
"Okay," I agreed, "invite a couple of kids over some night."
"No," she said, "I don't think you understand. I have to have a real party." -
"All right, invite four kids over," I said genially. •
She shook her head. "Four kidsare no good."
"Melinda," T replied, "no kids are any good. But tell me, just what are you after?"
■ "Well, Daddy, I want to have twenty-two kids over next Friday, and you have to stay in your room until they all go
home^-^-., .
/fproceededNvto take the offensive. "What] will this party entail in the vVay of preparations?" .
"Really nothing," she smiled brightly. "Just some little old potato chips, Coca-Cola and Seven-Up."
At the mention of the menu my "tongue started to coat. "Okay," I said, I'll go for that."
Parties Ck)st Money
As it turned out, Melinda had, a few second thoughts. All in all, supplies for the party set me back just over forty bucks.
The day of the party dawned bright and clear. My wife, no fool, left at 7 p. m., hurriedly shouting that she had to go to a P.T.A. meeting. A half-hour before the semi-bandits were I due to descend upon us, Melinda came to my room and asked, "Daddy, how dol^ look?"
_ "You look just great," I said. "And don't : forget,; eveiybody out by ten-thirty." —~
"Okay," she nodded. Then eyeing me speculatively, she announced, "I think I told you before, Daddy, but please don't come out of your room until all the kids have leftv
"What's your problem?" I asked. "Are yoii ashamed of your dear old Dad?'' Then cribbing a line from lolaiithe, I said, "You may not be aware of it but I'm generally admired;" ' Melinda shook hei* head. "Of course I'm not ashamed of you, Daddy, but if the kids know there are grownups in the; house — except thjp'rtiaid; of, course — the part:^ will be a flop.":
"Now let me get \his straight," I feaid. "You mean'to tell me I haVe to stay locked, up in my
room in my own house, just because twenty-two of your scavenger friends are going to be out there bolting the non-deductible grub that I paid for?"
BY GROUCHO MARX
She came over and gave me a big kiss. That is always her answer when she doesn't have an answer. As she started to leave   the   room,   I said,
"Wouldn't the kids feel more secure if I slipped into a strait jacket?"-
•Oh, Daddy," she replied, "that won't be necessary." She
went out, closed the door behind her and carefully turned the key in the lock.
Suddenly the record player began blasting at a pitch that
JEWS IN SPORTS
MEN AND EVENTS By Harold U. Ribalbw
BASEBALL HISTORY
There is a new book out, called "Baseball: The Eariy Years." (Oxford University Press, $7.50) which I should like to recommend to all baseball fans. I should warn you that it is not the ordinary kind of idol-worshipping book. It is a history, a serious one, well-written and emphasizes baseball as a business, not a game. And it has some shockingly revealing pages in it.
Thfr author is Harold Seymour, who once served, as a batboy with the Dodgers,, when they played in Ebbets Field, Brooklyn - (reinember?). — He played ball in college and was an umpire, scout and manager, too. Later, he was graduated froin Drew University and earned his mastiers degree land his PH.D. from (Cornell for his doctorate on baseball. Harold Sey mour is now an ^Associate Professor of history at Finch College.-.■
As you can see, not the usual kind of sports writer—and not the ordinary sort of book, either! .
Dr. Seymour promises to give us a second volume, for this"one^goes from baseball's beginnings] to 1903, or whieh the two present leagues were formed.' And if you think there is maneouveriiig going about now bn the formation of the Conti-
nental League, wait until you read about the magnates of the past and what they did to nion-opolize the game and make it a business instead of a sport!..
In the first sentences of his book, Dr. Seyhidur offers it to us candidly: "Baseball," he says, "is many things. But, contrary to widespread belief, professional baseball is not a sport. It is a commercialized amusement business." The players, he informs us, have a good reason to play: ""Their primary reason for playing is to collect their pay checks." And he adds, "Neither does owning a professional club make one a sportsman, any more than the Queen of England is a sportswoman because she owns horses and enters them in races. Fanis "are not sportsmen either — not any more so than theatregoers." He quotes Theodore. Roosevelt to the effect that "When nloney comes in at the gate, sport flies out at the window."
You get the idea; I'm sure. THE OWNERS
■ T^ere is too much in this fat book (359 big pages) to report on. But some of the stories are worth emphasizing, especially the 1890 revolt. This cajne-abdu| when the players themselves organized a Players League (a sort o^co-operatiye) and fought the National Lesgue. The unethical behaviour \)i the owners,
their callousness, their dictatorial methods, the advantage they took of unlettered, uneducated athletes-all make up one shocking story, but a familiar one. The more things change, the more they remain the same.
Dr. Seymour stresses throughout that the owners are not more capable of running the "game" than the players themselves. He appears to h^^ve contempt for most of them and the truth isMhat, on the basis of his facts, his arguments are well taken. He is particularly harsh on Andfew Freedman, who once owned the New York Giants and was one of a group of Jewish owners at that time. I shall deal with the Freedman aspect in a later column. Meanwhile, however. Dr. Seymour has this to say about the racial or religious angles of the game in its early days:
"Undoubtedly, second-generation Iri^ and Germans dominated the professional ranks. In fact, so litany Irish were in the game that some thought they had a special talent for - ball playing. Fans liked to argue the relative inerits of pjayers of Irish as against those of German extraction. Since:^he Irish immigrants who s>li;aiTned into the growing urban .centers were largely relegiited to unskilled jobs like hod-carrying In the
building trades, and other construction jobs, their sons who were fortunate enough to become professional ball players had advanced considerably on the social and economic ladder.
"Ball players came from practically every state in the Union, but a check made in 1896 showed a majoirity of them originating in the heavily populated Northeast, with Pennsylvania, Massachusettis, Ohio,.and New York Reading. Jewish players were acceptable, and Lip-man Pike, who had a big-league career of seyenten years, playing and managing for several clubs, is generally regarded as the first of approximately fifty Jewrsh players who have worn major league uniforms."
Dr. Seymour writes a great deal about the Negro in the game in the early years and points out the strong prejudice against them and adds a great amount of new iand original material on the status^ anddie-velopment of the Negn) in the g^me.;,-. .■ ..-,[
It is a very fine history that Dr. Seymour has given us and I shall return to it in another column. I shall also check up , on Lipman Pike, who is i^fiew ,name to me and, I'm surer^to Vnany other sports historians.
(Copyright, 1960[ Jewish telegraphic Agency.)
is seldom heard outside of Cape Canaveral or the Straits of China. Intermingled vrith this were childish screams and the duller sounds of scuffling and wrestling. Stuffing cotton in my ears, I resolutely picked up a book determined to concentrate, and ignore the twenty-two bulls in my china shop.
The Little Monsters
The Donnybrook now became louder and wilder. When I finally realized I had read the same paragraph four times, I threw the book on the desk, got up and sneaked warily out the door of ,, my study (which Melinda had fortunately overlooked), and down the corridor to the living room'. I arrived jUst in time. Three of the larger boys were carrying one of the smaller ones oviei: to the fireplace, apparently with intent to barbecue. I rescued the med-iuhi-rare victim and then, delivered a short, stern speech, pointing out that the interior of an expensive living room was hardly the ideal locale for re-enacting the last days of Joan of Arc.
Melinda rushed over to me and said, "Daddy! Get back to your room! The kids all resent you."
By nine-thirty the comparative silence began to get on my nerves. I crept out again to see how young America on the march was making out. On one side of the room the girls were dancing with each other. On the other side of the room the boys were engaged in a very interesting contest. They were throwing lighted matches under the sofa. It seemed the one whose match burned the longest was to collect ten cents from each of the losers, I'sup-pose there was also a bonus for
anyone who set fire to the sofa.
The Party's Over
Again I rushed into the room and. made practically the same speech I had made before. But this time I was smarter. I persuaded the ringleader to come out in the hall and promised him a box of cigars for his father if he'd take over and keep the orgy under control. I then returned to my room, sat down and stared at the clock. At the stroke of 10.30 I ran out and shouted. "Okay, party's over! Everybody out!"
A few of the more gentlemanly ones thanked me for a pleasant evening. Two of the boys kicked me in the shins as they left. Soon the house was quiet again and Melinda was in her room. I went in.
"Melinda," I said apologetically, "I'm sorry I had to break my promise and horn in on your party. I hope I didn't offend any of your guests."
She turned to me with a big smile. "Oh, no. Daddy. Vhey didn't mind your coming in. They all see you on TV and they know you're always kidding. It was a wonderful party and I know now I'll get a lot of invitations from the other kids."
Melinda ran over and gave me a big hug. She looked up smiling and said, "Daddy, next year can I have another party? I Nothing elaborate—just potato I chips, Cocoa-Cola and Seven-Up." ■
"Okay."^ Melinda."     I said, j "Turn off the record player, brush your teeth, go to bed. And^by the way,  good night, dear." ' v
i   (In the final article of this series, appearing   next week, vGroucho tells of his career on television.)