The Immortal Jolson: His Life And Times

By Pearl Sieben

In an era of entertainment titans, Al Jolson was recognized as the greatest - a Legend in his own time. But behind the legend was a human being, behind the booming voice and the electric personality there was a man. Profligate and petty. Magnificent and tawdry. Generous and suspicious. The Immortal Jolson is a fascinating and revealing study of the man and his time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frederick Fell Publishers, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780883917534

Pearl Sieben

Just before the turn of the century, America was a land of stability and contrasts. The emigrants from Eastern European misery and oppression faced hardship and a strangers' newness. But they found something that they had never known - opportunity - a land and a society in which a man was not to be frozen in the position of his fathers if he had the qualities to succeed. Pearl Sieben tells the stories of Al Jolson and how he utilized oppurtunity.

Book preview

Twenty-four

Chapter One

THERE WAS DISBELIEF IN THEIR VOICES WHEN THEY SAID IT. AL JOLSON is dead! It was almost as though they really never believed that he was mortal; that the man, like the legend, would go on forever. In city and hamlet, in every country of the world, it was the same. A shaking of the head, a hushed voice. Al Jolson is dead! And whoever they said it to frowned and said, You’re kidding, and they answered, It’s a fact. Jolson’s dead.

It was true. It said so on the front page of every newspaper in America. It was a major item on every radio and television news program. But even as the fact, the finality registered, you expected to hear his leathery voice boom: You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, folks!

He was an entertainer, a singer. But to call him simply that is the same as saying that the Victoria Falls is a body of falling water. He was a minstrel, but he was so much more than that. For forty years he soared in the celestial world of show business as brightly as Halley’s Comet. He was a legend in his own time, and the legend has grown and continues to grow. A critic said recently, in attempting to describe Judy Garland: God made Al Jolson and then he made Judy and then he broke the mold.

He, like a few singers in his time and after him, had the rare ability to turn the words of a song into his own personal monument.

… I’d walk a million miles for just one of your smiles, my Mammy.

He made millions of dollars. When his star waned, he staged a comeback that startled everyone but himself. There is a marble monument commemorating him in Los Angeles. But none of these things perpetuate the legend. It is the songs. His inimitable style!

Swanee … how I love ya, how I love ya, my dear old Swanee …

At the core of the legend was a man. The world never fully understood the man. He did not understand himself. His ego was gargantuan, but behind it was an inferiority complex that made the ego minute by comparison. He needed applause the way a diabetic needs insulin. To be alone at any time terrified him. The fear of death haunted him all his life. An Oedipus complex plagued him. Childless, he feared for his virility, and chased women with the single-mindedness of a goat in an effort to prove his manhood. He was kind, sentimental and charitable to a fault. He was arrogant and surly. He was a braggart. He was crude and untutored. As a human being he left much to be desired. But he was the greatest entertainer that the world has ever known.

To unravel the hungers that drove Al Jolson to the pinnacle of success, one must follow the thread back to the thatch roofed log cabin in the tiny Russian village of Srednicke where he was born, Asa Yoelson, the youngest of four children born to Moses and Naomi Yoelson. The date of birth was unrecorded and unremembered, but it was approximately 1886.

Russia in those years was the land of the pogrom and the Cossack. Since the assassination of Alexander II in 1881, the lot of the Jew in Russia had steadily worsened.

Moses Yoelson was the Rabbi of Srednicke. As the cantor of an impoverished congregation he naturally suffered their poverty. Violence and anti-semitic tyranny spread across the land, but in 1886 Rabbi Yoelson could put his worries to the back of his mind—a new son had been born.

First, there had been two daughters, Rose and Etta; the third child was a son, Hirsch. And now there was Asa. In the custom of their faith, the Yoelsons rejoiced. To have another son would have been enough, but the Yoelsons had been Rabbis for six generations, and a second son was one more to follow in the footsteps of father and grandfather—one more dedicated to the propagation of the faith.

The four years that followed were difficult ones. Life for the Yoelsons in Srednicke was happy, but hovering over them was the impending threat of violence. Stories of murder and pillage came to them from the larger villages, and fear was a noose that grew tighter with each month.

In 1890 Moses Yoelson left his family and escaped to America. Asa was four years old. Arriving in New York, Moses learned that there was no work in New York City, but with the help of relatives, he secured a job doing menial tasks in New-burgh, N.Y. He took on extra jobs as a laborer to save the money for the tickets to bring his family to him. He worked in New-burgh for four years, then he was offered a small synagogue in Washington, D.C. He left Newburgh immediately.

Settling himself in a two-room cold-water flat above a feed store, he took up the chores at the synagogue. The congregation was poor, but they were receptive and friendly towards the new Rabbi. The salary was small, but he was doing the work for which he had been trained. A few months after his arrival in Washington, he was able to send the five tickets to Naomi and the children.

In Srednicke the Yoelsons had despaired of ever joining Moses. It was their constant dream, but four years is a long time. Moses had written many things about America, but it was still a world beyond their reach. The arrival of the tickets changed that. Now was a time for plans. For Rose, Etta, Hirsch and Asa it was a great adventure. They escaped from Russia in a hay wagon, carrying no baggage, but wearing layer upon layer of clothing.

They traveled steerage, crowded like cattle into the stinking hold of the ship. The little family, terrified in their adventure, huddled together in a corner. Life surged about them—the life of the displaced immigrant.

It was a terrible trip, Asa Yoelson related in later years, but my Mother did everything to keep our spirits up. We had talked for years about America and the wonderful life we would find there, and she talked to keep the dream alive. I had been playing the violin in Russia, and she talked about Steinway Hall, and how one day I would play there. But I told her I wanted to be a doctor, because I liked to see the smiles of the people when the village doctor made them well. She said, ‘Sometimes you won’t be able to make them smile.’ But I said, ‘Then I will try even harder. The sadder the faces the harder I will try. I will make the whole world smile.’ I really meant it, too.

Moses met the family in New York and they took the train to Washington and settled into the small flat. There was the anxious and difficult period of children getting to know a father who had become a stranger. There was also the difficulty of learning the customs of the new country. But they were together and they were happy.

Naomi had brought with her the customs of the past, the strict orthodoxy of the faith, and in the early days of their life in America it sustained them. Friday was the favorite day of the week. On this day the small flat was cleaned to perfection. This was the eve of the shabbus. There was the wonderful smell of chalah baking and the sight of the freshly made noodles spread on a white cloth. The floor was scrubbed and sprinkled with the aromatic scent of hemlock. On the table was placed a white table cloth and the virginal candles to be lit at sundown. An air of festivity prevailed. The children were washed and dressed in their best. When Moses arrived from his day at the synagogue, the shabbus began. The candles were lit, prayers were said, and the meal began. The chicken soup with noodles, the gefulte fish, the chicken and finally, the strudel. After the meal the family sat together and they sang. Hirsch had a fine voice and he sang duets with Asa, but before the evening ended Asa was singing alone, the rest of the family listening.

Cantor Yoelson was happy. He had his congregation and he had his family. His two sons were bright and one day they would have congregations of their own.

This was true. They would have congregations, but not in the way Moses hoped. The tumult of America at the turn of the century would have its effect on the boys, and the happiness in the Yoelson household would turn to bitterness.

Chapter Two

AL JOLSON WAS REALLY BORN AT THE AGE OF EIGHT, IN THE STREETS of Washington, D.C. There were no visible birth pangs for the mother, but the child did his share of shouting and he was born with violence.

The Yoelsons had been settled over the feed store for a number of months. The children were enrolled in a public school where they learned the new language with the ease of the young. They also learned the new customs quickly—to the chagrin of their strict father. He held them with an iron hand and forced them into his mold. They attended Hebrew classes after their regular school and in the evenings the boys had to spend hour after hour learning the religious chants that were sung in the synagogue.

But like all children, they learned to escape. They would tell their father that they were kept after school, and then the two boys would explore the streets. The waterfront was a favorite place. Both Hirsch and Asa learned the English of the American sailor. Arriving home they suffered the wrath of an angry parent, but it did not stop their wandering.

The neighborhood where the Yoelsons lived was in the tough section of the city and every block had its gang of young hoodlums. The greenhorns, as the newly arrived immigrants were called, were considered easy pickings for the bullies. It did not take the gangs long to notice that the two brothers, Hirsch and Asa, did not belong.

Coming home from the waterfront one day, Hirsch and Asa were confronted by the leader of the toughest neighborhood gang. They had been in school and in the neighborhood long enough to know what was happening, but they passed on without speaking.

Hey, you, the tough shouted. Where ya think you’re going?

Hirsch nudged Asa, but they kept walking, ignoring the question. The bully followed after them. Hey, greenhorn, he shouted, when did ya get off the boat? His friends joined in the laughter. Hirsch and Asa did not turn back.

You’re yella as well as green! Hoots of derision went up from the gang.

Yella-bellied foreigners!

Hirsch spun on his heel. The tormentor was close behind. Hirsch drove a fist into the startled face. The battle was on. The gang waded in. Back-to-back, Hirsch and Asa fought them. The sounds of the fighting brought the boys from other blocks on the run. The two boys were outnumbered, but they had the edge supplied by their anger and fear. Fists flailed in all directions. Members of rival gangs joined the fight and it became a free-for-all and then suddenly it was over with the original tormentors in flight down the street.

The leader of the newcomers looked Hirsch and Asa over and the two boys readied themselves for a new battle. The bigger boy smiled at Asa. You guys are okay, he said. I think you could have taken them alone. He invited the two boys into the gang.

Hirsch and Asa looked at one another. As members of a gang, they would be left alone. They had been in America long enough to know some of the rules. They agreed to join the gang.

What’s your names?

Hirsch was about to answer, but Asa stopped him. The time had come to Americanize their names. This is Harry, Asa said, and my name is Al.

The two boys went on their way to the Hebrew school to resume their Yoelson identities. But from then on, outside the house, they were Harry and Al.

During their early years in America many changes took place in the Yoelson family. This was a period of adjustment for them all, and each member of the family was finding freedom in a different way. They were still a close-knit family, but now each had become an individual in his own right. Moses remained the strict father, but Naomi’s jovial nature softened the atmosphere.

Hirsch was growing up now and needed to find a way to make some spending money. He had seen his friends do well selling newspapers. One morning, before school began, he went into the heart of town and bought an armful of papers. He experimented until he found a good corner and set up his new business. The first day he did so well he could barely wait to share his secret with his brother. He went to school and met Asa near his classroom.

Hey, Asa … Hirsch called, excitedly catching up to his brother. Promise ya won’t tell anyone?

Promise what? Where were ya this morning? Asa asked.

I’m in business! I got me a corner in town and an armful of papers and before school I make me some extra money. Look— Hirsch jingled a pocket full of change. Some business man, heh? Hirsch asked proudly.

Boy, that’s swell! Asa was in awe of his big brother’s business ability.

The next day, to Hirsch’s surprise and resentment, on the opposite corner, and in clear view, stood his little brother, crying out in a loud voice, C’mon, get your newspapers!

At first this competition angered Hirsch, but when he saw that his competitor’s income didn’t affect his own, he welcomed his company. Picking a corner didn’t mean keeping it. There were constant challengers to convince. Two could do that better than one.

Hirsch, however, felt that he would have liked to be on his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his brother, it was just that he could never make a move without him. Maybe some day Asa would understand, maybe he’d learn to stand alone.

Hirsch and Asa told their parents about their business venture. Though the cantor frowned upon it at first the extra contribution the boys made to the family budget came in handy. He felt his sons were basically good boys, and the fact that they tried to help their family proved it. They had come to him of their own free will and offered him all the extra money they made, holding out only enough for expenses; a daily sweet bun.

When school closed for the summer they had more free time. Afternoons they would wander down to the main section of Washington and explore the stores and gaze in wonder at the displays before the theaters. These huge forbidden halls aroused their curiosity as they examined the pictures on the billboards advertising the performers appearing inside.

Hirsch, do you think we could go see a show someday? Asa would ask eagerly.

Boy, would I like to! We’d have to save up for that. What if Papa ever found out?

Would we get it! Playin’ hookey from school’s nothin’ compared to that. Asa would go back to contemplating the billboards.

Every week they would change. The signs would boast, 50 of them—Count ’em! chorus girls, all scantily dressed, holding one foot in the air as if they were poised for joined flight. Seals, dancing bears, trained dogs, knife throwers, acrobats, would all take their turns on the billboards. The boys would stare at the signs, eager to see for themselves what went on inside these dens of sin, as their father called the theaters.

Warm summer evenings Hirsch and Asa would walk past the Hotel Raleigh. Here, after dinner, Senators and politicians would sit on the wide veranda in big rocking chairs, fanning themselves and drinking long, cool drinks. The boys would stand around and listen to the heated discussions that ensued. One evening one of the Senators called to Asa.

Hey, boy … yes, you over there …

Me? queried the puzzled Asa, a little frightened.

Can you sing?

Sure I can sing.

Let’s hear you.

C’mon Asa, give ’em a song! Hirsch coaxed him.

O.K…. O.K…. How about this? and Asa started a popular song he was sure they all knew. Soon they were all harmonizing with him. On a particularly sweet note his boy soprano rang so true and clear that the others stopped singing and just listened to him. When he reached the chorus again, instead of singing it as he had done before, he whistled it. Heads shook unbelievingly. Such whistling they had never heard. When Asa finally finished the men applauded loudly.

How about both of you doing a duet?

Hirsch and Asa joined voices and soon they were singing one request after another. At first they sang the popular songs of the day but they soon realized that the old songs like Swanee River, My Old Kentucky Home, and When You and I Were Young Maggie made even a bigger impression on the men. As they sang the sidewalks jingled with the sounds of nickels and dimes—and even quarters. It seemed the sadder the song they sang the louder the sound of coins. Once armed with this knowledge the boys sang one tearjerker after another.

Since both of them never tired of singing this was like making money without having to work for it. Now that their income had increased they could afford one of the luxuries America offered men of finance: the theater!

Two tickets, please, Hirsch told the cashier in his most grown up manner as he plunked down four bits. They hurried up the stairs two at a time, afraid they might miss part of the show. Even the curtain going up was an event for them.

Seated, they found they still had a few minutes to wait. Apparently the show didn’t start the minute the tickets stated. No matter, there was plenty to see while the lights were still on. Spellbound they sat, taking everything in. The ornate architecture was something neither one of them had ever seen before. Cherubs balanced precariously from the ceiling and jutted out from the walls. Huge chandeliers hung above their heads. The curtain was a dark, rich, wine velvet, worn here and there, but nevertheless splendid.

The curtains finally parted. The girls they had viewed so often on the billboards came to life. Speechless, the boys watched one marvel after another unfold on the stage. When the lights went up and the performance ended, the time had passed like the blinking of an eye.

Walking home they talked excitedly of their experiences.

Hirsch, did you ever see such a place?

Nope … and those girls! Boy, I didn’t know there were women like that. Hirsch let out a low expressive whistle.

"Me either. Did ya see the way that