A DEDICATION OF IDA KAMINSKA'S MEMORABILIA AT YIVO

The following is the text of a speech given at a reception on the evening of May 31, 2001, by Victor Melman, son of Ida Kaminska and Meir Melman, at the dedication of Ida Kaminska's Yiddish theatre memorabilia to YIVO, the Yiddish Scientific Institute.

My mother visited me in my dreams a few nights ago, as she often does. In the dream I was making an overseas call to her in Italy where she was on an extended tour. Her voice was tired. I asked her how she was and, after a pause, she replied that she was full of anger. She said she lost to the young Italians who were very good and deserved all the credit. I said I understood and she had every right to feel angry. Of course it was my dream, these were my feelings projected onto her. It was my subconscious that conjured up this image of my mother as an aging athlete who stays in competition too long, a fighter past his prime continuing to dazzle the audience with displays of mastery but getting knocked down more and more often. No doubt, these images were triggered by my lingering memories of my mother’s post-emigration existence, what with advancing age, declining health, profound sense of alienation, the shock of the premature death of her brother, Josef, a long-time concert-master of Israeli Philharmonic.

In reality my mother wasn’t angry. Tired? Yes. Disheartened? Maybe. Bewildered by the seeming incongruity between the adulation manifesting itself in various ways and the frustrating inability to translate it into personal triumph and, more importantly, into creating what she has been creating all her life – a substantive, respectable, artistically viable and socially relevant Yiddish Theatre.

And she was saddened by her gradual marginalization. Ida Kaminska resented being marginalized. Even though she was the quintessential Jewish actress, genuinely committed to the cause of cultivating the Yiddish word and resurrecting the Jewish world, she has always aspired to universal validation. For much of her career she attempted to transcend the parochialism of the Jewish theater, to merge with the surrounding culture, to challenge her audiences, who were not always interested in being challenged. In 1927 my mother directed and starred in a play entitled “Morphium” by Herzer. A well-known Jewish journalist and theatre critic, Jakub Appenszlak, lamented:” As far as acting and directing is concerned, the performance of “Morphium” belongs among the greatest artistic successes of the theatrical season in Warsaw. The aficionados of the Jewish language have in this performance one more proof that Yiddish is a literary language capable of conveying all the nuances of an opulent dialogue. The direction and acting bring genuine honor to Miss Ida Kaminska. Kaminska is undoubtedly the most cultured Jewish artist: her taste in skillful rendering of the environment is manifested in her precise direction which converts Herzer’s play into a genuine “nocturne” with deep lyrical tones… Elsewhere a theatre of this kind would enjoy the greatest appreciation and caring on the part of the society. Here… better not to elaborate on the unbelievably scandalous attitude of the Warsaw Jewry toward the Jewish Art Theatre! On Sunday the gross take was 100 Zlotys!”.

 My mother liked to quote, somewhat wistfully, her mother, who, shortly before her death, said to her: “mein kind, di west ejbik szpiln Mirele Efros”, partly to warn her of future disappointments, partly as a disapproval of such aspirations. And she did play Mirele Efros all her life, just like her mother did. Esther Rukhel played it on many different stages including the 1913 gala opening of the Abraham Kaminski Theatre (named after my grandfather who founded it), the first permanent Jewish theatre site, and including the triumphant tour of America in the beginning of the century. My mother played it on countless stages including the triumphant tour of America in 1967 on the heels of her Oscar nomination for “Shop on Main Street”. She played Mirele Efros with growing appreciation for Gordin's craftsmanship, proudly, unabashedly and with gusto, just like her mother did.

When Esther Rukhel died, tens of thousands of people marched in a funeral procession through Nalewki and Gesia streets. Services for my mother were held on Amsterdam Avenue 21 years ago, almost to the day. The chapel was full.

Esther Rukhel has a theatre named after her. In 1955, on the 30th anniversary of her death, the Jewish State Theatre in Warsaw took on her name. The theatre was created almost single-handedly by Ida Kaminska, who was its heart and soul until her emigration in the infamous year 1968. The theatre is still there, and although the word “state” has been dropped from its name, it still receives government subsidies. It has been housed for the past 30 odd years in a new beautiful building constructed thanks to my mother’s perseverance and inspiration and according to her specifications. She never had a chance to perform on its stage. When I visited it two years ago on the 100th anniversary of her birth, I suggested to her successor that the theatre be re-named from Esther Rukhel’s to Ester Rukhel and Ida Kaminska Jewish Theatre, Mr. Szymon Szurmiej responded: “You’ve got it. Guaranteed.”  It hasn’t happened. He did, however, make a few phone calls, and upon my return to New York on the day of my mother’s birthday a small ceremony was conducted at the Mt.Hebron Cemetery organized by the Polish Consulate.
Now I have the highest respect for YIVO, it’s tradition and its mission and I am grateful that this exhibition is taking place. But would it, if it weren’t for my personal relationship with Krysia Fiszer who created it, Marek Web who supported it, and Joseph Blass and Victor Markowicz who generously provided funding for it?

All of this may sound like sour grapes, like a grievance. It is not. These are just ruminations about life and death, about the fickleness of our collective memory, about the ephemeral nature of fame, about the vicissitudes of Jewish history, of which YIVO is such a splendid custodian. These are just musings of a son struck by this irony: for much of my life I was too close to my mother to see the true dimensions of her talents and achievements. In fact, I was ruthlessly critical of many of her endeavors. Only from a distance have I been able to realize that she was unquestionably a giant of the Yiddish culture and a beacon for the Jewish identity. And now that I have arrived at this belated recognition of her greatness, my mother has been fading into oblivion.

Let’s hope that this event will restore Ida Kaminska, albeit temporarily, to her rightful place in the public consciousness.

If my mother comes to visit me tonight, she’ll be happy. And I’ll give her your regards.