Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

THE JAZZ SINGER

BY

SAMSON RAPHAELSON

(Based on his story, “The Day of Atonement,” in Everybody’s Magazine, January, 1922.)

NEW YORK
BRENTANO’S
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1925, by
SAMSON RAPHAELSON

All rights, including stage, motion picture, and amateur production, are reserved. No performance or public reading may be given without the written consent of the author, or his recognized agents. Application should be made to the author, in care of his publishers.

Printed in the United States of America

To
Albert Lewis
A gentleman from the East Side and a scholar from Broadway

FOREWORD

I wish to express my gratitude to Albert Lewis, who directed and produced “The Jazz Singer” and who, in the long hours of many days and nights, gave values to the play and stage wisdom to me which I hope never to forget; to Stuart Sherman, who encouraged me when my faith lagged; and to the members of the cast, especially George Jessel and Sam Jaffe, for the many happy touches they have contributed.

Samson Raphaelson.

PREFACE

American life, in this year 1925, consists essentially of surfaces. You may point out New England communities and say here is depth, and I will answer, true, but New England is dead so far as the America of now is concerned. You may show me an integrity in the West where a century ago pioneers came, and I will answer, that integrity resides with the elders and not with the mightier young ones. He who wishes to picture today’s America must do it kaleidoscopically; he must show you a vivid contrast of surfaces, raucous, sentimental, egoistical, vulgar, ineffably busy—surfaces whirling in a dance which sometimes is a dance to Aphrodite and more frequently a dance to Jehovah.

In seeking a symbol of the vital chaos of America’s soul, I find no more adequate one than jazz. Here you have the rhythm of frenzy staggering against a symphonic background—a background composed of lewdness, heart’s delight, soul-racked madness, monumental boldness, exquisite humility, but principally prayer.

I hear jazz, and I am given a vision of cathedrals and temples collapsing and, silhouetted against the setting sun, a solitary figure, a lost soul, dancing grotesquely on the ruins.... Thus do I see the jazz singer.

Jazz is prayer. It is too passionate to be anything else. It is prayer distorted, sick, unconscious of its destination. The singer of jazz is what Matthew Arnold said of the Jew, “lost between two worlds, one dead, the other powerless to be born.” In this, my first play, I have tried to crystallize the ironic truth that one of the Americas of 1925—that one which packs to overflowing our cabarets, musical revues and dance halls—is praying with a fervor as intense as that of the America which goes sedately to church and synagogue. The jazz American is different from the dancing dervish, from the Zulu medicine man, from the negro evangelist only in that he doesn’t know he is praying.

I have used a Jewish youth as my protagonist because the Jews are determining the nature and scope of jazz more than any other race—more than the negroes, from whom they have stolen jazz and given it a new color and meaning. Jazz is Irving Berlin, Al Jolson, George Gershwin, Sophie Tucker. These are Jews with their roots in the synagogue. And these are expressing in evangelical terms the nature of our chaos today.

You find the soul of a people in the songs they sing. You find the meaning of the songs in the souls of the minstrels who create and interpret them. In “The Jazz Singer” I have attempted an exploration of the soul of one of these minstrels.

Samson Raphaelson.

New York, October, 1925.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Cast of characters in the first production of “The Jazz Singer,” by Lewis and Gordon in association with Sam H. Harris at the Fulton Theatre, New York City, Sept. 15, 1925.

THE JAZZ SINGER

SYNOPSIS OF SCENES

ACT I—The home of the Cantor on the East Side. The 14th of August, afternoon.

ACT II

Scene 1—About a month later. Back-stage at the Fulton Theatre, New York.

Scene 2—A few minutes later. Jack’s dressing room.

ACT III—Same as Act I. A few hours later.

THE JAZZ SINGER

ACT ONE

Scene: It is the flat of Cantor Rabinowitz in the heart of the East Side of New York. We see a rather large living room with a curious mixture of furniture and crockery. The Cantor lives in better style than most of his neighbors. The furniture is massive, elaborate, of fine wood, the kind of furniture a wealthy Jew in Russia would be likely to have. Everywhere there are shelves loaded with bric-a-brac—china, glassware and silver.

There are two windows through which can be seen the stained glass windows of the synagogue next door. There is a phonograph, a sideboard, a settee, a bookcase, a Morris chair. On the wall are pictures, including one of an old-fashioned Russian Jew, one of the Cantor, one cheap chromo showing some kittens, and the framed citizen papers of the Cantor.

At rise: Before the curtain rises we hear a boyish treble sweetly singing an old Hebrew cantor tune. As the curtain rises, we see little Moey and the Cantor seated at the table. The Cantor is a lean man of medium height. He has a neatly trimmed, grayish beard and is wearing a skull-cap. His face is wrinkled, gentle, austere. He is a holy man among a humane people—and all which that implies. He knows the ways of kindliness, but the spirit in him is stern with following the God of Vengeance for sixty years.

Moey is singing.

Cantor

[Stops him]. No, no, no! Didn’t I tell you how you should sing it? Sing it with a sigh. Do you understand, my child? With a sigh! You are praying to God. Nu, try it again. [Moey tries again, and again is stopped by Cantor.] No—do you understand what it means, them words you are singing? What does “Vaanee Sefeelosee” mean?

Moey

It means, “I, my prayer.”

Cantor

And what means “Lecho Adoshem”?

Moey

That means, “To you, O God.”

Cantor

Good! And what does it mean, “Ais Rutzon Elohim”?

Moey

“When you are ready, O God.”

Cantor

That’s right. You’re a smart boy, Moey. Now what does it mean “Berov Chasdecho Aneni Be-emes Yishecho”?

Moey

[Hesitates]. I don’t know what that means.

Cantor

Is that nice? A smart boy like you what has the most beautiful voice in the choir? You will never learn to sing until you know what the words mean. Now, listen, Moey. This is what it means. “I offer my prayer to you, when you are ready, O God, with your multitudes of benedictions—answer me, O God, with truth, and help me.” Sing it again, Moey. [Moey begins to sing again. The Cantor rises, impatiently. He is irritated with Moey, yet he has forgotten the child. He speaks more to himself than to Moey.] No, no! Oh, I wish I had my Jakie here. He could show you how to sing it. The words he understood even when he was a little boy smaller than you. And a voice he had like an angel.

Moey

Why did Jakie run away from home?

Cantor

[Pause]. Who said.... Where did you heard that?

Moey

Gee, everybody knows that ... all the boys in the choir....

Cantor

Sometimes little boys know too much, Moey. Sometimes little boys think they know more than their papas.

Moey

[Rises]. I’m hungry. Can I go home now, Cantor? My mama told me to come home early tonight for supper.

Cantor

You shouldn’t speak from supper, Moey, when we are speaking from God.

Moey

Can I help it? I’m hungry.

Cantor

[Craftily]. In the kitchen we got nice cookies.

Moey

Cookies? What kind?

Cantor

With raisins in them.

Moey

Oh, I like them. Can I have some?

Cantor

Certainly, my child, but sing first.

[Moey picks up the prayer book and sings the melody conscientiously and beautifully. He sings it straight through to the end. There is a quality of plaintiveness in this rendition which pleases the Cantor. As Moey is singing, Sara enters from the kitchen, a small brass chopping bowl in her hand. She pauses until the boy finishes. Sara is a small woman, thin, tense, with large, vivid black eyes and gray hair parted neatly and drawn back in a knot. She wears an apron over a black and white dotted voile dress. The Cantor speaks with delight.]

Cantor

Ain’t that beautiful, Sara?

Sara

It’s very nice the way you sing, Moey. I’m going to tell your mama what a good boy you are.

Moey

You bet I am. Can I have some of your raisin cookies, Mrs. Rabinowitz?

Sara

Raisin cookies?

Cantor

I promised Moey he could have some if he sang nice.

Sara

They ain’t ready yet.

Cantor

Well, you come back in an hour, Moey. Then they’ll be ready.

Sara

Yes, go my child. I’ll keep a whole lot of cookies warm for you.

Moey

[Takes prayer boot]. Thank you, Mrs. Rabinowitz.

Sara

You’re welcome. Give my love to your mama.

Moey

[Moves to door]. Thank you. Goodbye. I won’t eat much at home. [He goes.]

Cantor

He’s a willing boy, Sara, and it’s a pleasure to hear him singing in the choir. And his papa, peace be with him, was a rabbi. Maybe from Moey I can make yet a Cantor.... Yes.... [Sits.] From him I will make a great Cantor.

Sara

[Casually, with a prosaic little sigh]. It seems like yesterday our Jakie was standing the same way—a little boy—a darling—and you was learning him to sing.

Cantor

Sara, I asked you a thousand times, don’t speak his name in my house. You know what it does to me.

Sara

I heard you from the kitchen—you spoke it yourself to Moey.

Cantor

Well, Moey and me—we was singing and—well, I made a mistake.

Sara

A mistake? A papa should speak from his only son one time in five years—that’s a mistake?

Cantor

It’s so long since I found a boy with a voice like Moey.... I forgot myself.

Sara

Our Jakie had a voice even more beautifuller—even before he ran away—

Cantor

Sara, please—it ain’t good that we should think too much about that boy. He didn’t think of us.... God knows if he’s maybe now in jail or not.

Sara

How can you speak like this from your only child? I tell you he’s a good boy and he ain’t in jail. In the last letter he wrote, he said....

Cantor

I don’t want to know from his letters.

Sara

But he’s got a good steady job. In Chicago.

Cantor

What’s the matter with you today? Maybe you could forget what he done. I can’t.... [Until now the mood has been conversational, although strong emotions have been strumming underneath. Now the Cantor rises, and his voice betrays the intensity of his feeling.] The Day of Atonement.... A crowded synagogue.... So proud we was! Why not? Everybody waiting to hear the Cantor’s son sing. And where was he?... You said he would come back. It’s already five years now.... Where is he?

Sara

I can’t help it the way I talk, Yosele. I feel lonely every day for our Jakie.

Cantor

And you think I don’t! Please, don’t speak no more.

Sara

All right, all right. I won’t speak no more.... But he’s got a steady job. He’s making money.

Cantor

[Bitterly]. Money! Money! That’s all they know. A little less money and more God would be better.

Sara

Please, Yosele, you shouldn’t excite yourself.

Cantor

[Mutters]. The memory of that boy is shortening my life.

Sara

Don’t speak like that. Go lay down a little bit. You’ll feel better. Take a rest. [Cantor rises wearily, obediently.] Please don’t be mad, Yosele. I won’t talk no more of Jakie. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

Cantor

[Pats her on the shoulder]. All right, all right. I’ll go in now and lay down for a while, and maybe then I’ll feel better. [At the door, with an attempt at his normal sweetness.] Don’t forget, you promised nice cookies for Moey. [He goes.]

Sara

[Moves toward the sideboard, when the telephone rings. She turns and moves toward the telephone saying “Hello” just before she reaches it. Then she picks up the receiver]. Hello ... who?... Oh, Mr. Adler. How do you do, Mr. Adler.... Yes, this is the Cantor’s wife.... How did you know it’s the Cantor’s birthday?... No, he don’t know it himself. We are making him a surprise! Oh, thank you, Mr. Adler. You should have the same!... The Cantor will be happy to know you remembered him.... Thank you.... Goodbye. [She hangs up the receiver. There is a knock on the door.] Come in.

Yudelson

[Comes in carrying a jug of wine, a praying shawl, a roast turkey wrapped in a napkin. Yudelson is a jeweler—an old friend of the family. He is about forty, has a small, close-cropped beard, and is seasonably dressed in a white linen suit and a Panama hat. He is hearty, good-natured, eager to please, but not exactly a subtle person.] Hello, hello, hello! Congratulations! Good luck!

Sara

Mr. Yudelson!

Yudelson

Well, it’s the Cantor’s birthday, so—

Sara

Sh! It’s a surprise. The Cantor is asleep.

Yudelson

[Lowers his voice]. Oh, a surprise!... So I says to myself, “Yudelson,” I says, “what should I give the Cantor that would be nicer than a roast turkey, a gallon of wine which my wife, Olov Hasholem, she made it five years before she died, and a genu-ine woolen praying shawl!”

Sara

A praying shawl! How did you know about the birthday?

Yudelson

How did I know! What’s the matter with you, am I crazy? The whole East Side remembers it.

Sara

[Takes turkey and wine into kitchen]. Sometimes I myself don’t remember. I ain’t a young woman no more, Mr. Yudelson. I got so much to do, I don’t realize that one day is Monday and all of a sudden it’s Friday and I have to prepare for the Sabbath. I’m surprised that I myself should remember the Cantor’s birthday. [She folds the praying shawl and puts it away.]

Yudelson

You think only downtown knows about it? Uptown knows about it too. Mr. Hymie Goldstein—if he’s worth a nickel, he’s worth a hundred thousand dollars, all in first mortgages too!—he came in my store today and he bought a gold watch. A new one. For cash. He bought it for the Cantor a present—I should live so! He’s coming here tonight.

Sara

[Pleased]. It’s nice he should remember the Cantor.... Lawyer Adler just telephoned me on the telephone. He’s coming too tonight.

Yudelson

Lawyer Adler! He’s already one of the big ones on Wall Street. Maybe you can get him he should fix us a new balcony for the synagogue.

Sara

[Moving about the house, getting dinner ready]. From Lawyer Adler we could get anything. The Cantor loves him and he loves the Cantor. They knew each other twenty years ago. What am I talking? It’s thirty years if it’s a day. The way time flies! It seems like yesterday I was a girl. [She goes out to get table cloth.]

Yudelson

I bet you the Cantor don’t even know it’s his birthday. [He sits down at table.]

Sara

[Enters with table cloth]. He never knows. Tell him this year, tell him last year, he don’t remember. But when it comes, and I remember—[She raises Yudelson’s hand as she spreads the cloth.] and his friends remember—oh, he loves it, believe me!

Yudelson

Did I told you what the Gershons are bringing the Cantor?

Sara

The Gershons?

Yudelson

You remember all the pictures which are hanging in the Committee Room of the synagogue—the pictures of the Cantor’s father and grandfather for four generations? Well, the Gershons made a hand painting from all the pictures—

Sara

A hand painting?

Yudelson

Yes, sir—with a fancy sign. It says on the sign: “Five Generations of Great Cantors, and the Fifth Is the Best.”

Sara

[Slowly]. Five generations of great Cantors.... That will make him think of Jakie.

Yudelson

That’s right.... Would you believe it—even now I’m afraid to speak to the Cantor about Jakie.... Oh, it’s too bad. It’s too bad Jakie can’t be here today, friends with his papa—to celebrate the birthday.

Sara

[Pause]. You know, a letter came last week. I think it’s from Jakie, because the Cantor didn’t want to open it.

Yudelson

A letter from Jakie? Nu, you didn’t heard from him for a long time.... Why don’t you open it?

Sara

I am afraid. I couldn’t tell you why, but I got a feeling in my heart that in the letter it wouldn’t be good news. And it’s the Cantor’s birthday.

Yudelson

Don’t be foolish, Mrs. Rabinowitz. I’ll bet you it’s A Number 1 good news. Give me the letter. I’ll read it.

Sara

Maybe the Cantor wouldn’t like it.

Yudelson

Come on, go ahead!

Sara

No, I can’t do it.

Yudelson

Mrs. Rabinowitz—on my responsibility I’ll open it. Tell me, where is the letter?

Sara

You shouldn’t open it—it’s on the top shelf. [Points.]

Yudelson

[Goes to sideboard]. I’ve opened already a thousand letters in my life. [Takes letters, looks at them.] No—that’s from the gas company.... This must be from Jakie. [Opens it quickly.] You think I should open it?—Well, all right. [He begins reading, mumbling to himself. Sara sits at table, Yudelson standing.]

Sara

If it’s bad news I don’t want to hear it. [Pause.] It’s bad news?

Yudelson

[To himself, painstakingly]. “Chicago, August 2nd. My dear mother: I am well and hope to hear the same from you.” [To Sara.] He says he is well, and give God to hear the same from you! [Mumbles to himself again.] “I am coming to New York.” [To Sara.] He says he is coming to New York. [To himself.] “On the fourteenth.” [To Sara.] On the fourteenth he’ll be here.

Sara

[Gets up excitedly and takes letter from Yudelson]. The fourteenth?—That’s today! Nu, what else? [Eagerly, with trembling hands she gives him back the letter.]

Yudelson

[Sits at table]. “My dear Mother—” No, I read this already. “I am earning a great deal of money.” [To Sara.] He says he is making plenty money. [Mumbles.] “And I am getting a fine position.” [To Sara.] He says he is getting a good job.

Sara

Does he say what kind of a job?

Yudelson

No, no.... “I send my love to you and to papa.” [To Sara.] He sends his love to you and papa.... [To himself.] “And the minute I arrive in the city,—” [To Sara.] And the minute he comes to the city, he says—[Looking at letter.] And the minute he comes to the city, he says—he says—“I will see you.” [To Sara.] He will see you! [To himself.] “From your son, who wishes you the best of everything, Jakie.” [To Sara.] From your son what wishes you what you wish yourself, Jakie! See, I knew it was good news. Wasn’t you foolish not to open it?

[There is a knock on door. Sara hides letter in her bosom, crosses to settee and sits. Yudelson goes to door.]

Yudelson

Come in.

Clarence

[Enters. He is a youth of about 21 and is impressively clad in a tight fitting, double-breasted blue coat, a pair of voluminous linen knickers, gaudy golf socks and loud sport shoes. He, as well as Yudelson, keeps his hat on, as is customary in orthodox households]. Hello, Mr. Yudelson!

Yudelson

Hello, Clarence!

Clarence

[Bowing to Mrs. Rabinowitz]. Hello, Mrs. Rabinowitz.

Yudelson

Say, what’s the matter? Ain’t you studying in City College this afternoon?

Clarence

I took the afternoon off. It’s the Cantor’s birthday, so I called a meeting of the choir—

Yudelson

Ssh! The Cantor’s asleep. It’s a surprise.

Clarence

[In a lowered voice]. And we all contributed toward a little gift. Mrs. Rabinowitz, will you present this to the Cantor with our best wishes for his continued happiness, peace, prosperity, longevity and the consistent and increasing use of his magnificent vocal cords! [Hands a package to Sara.]

Yudelson

Amen, amen, amen, amen!

Sara

[Rises, takes package]. Thank you, Clarence. The present I’ll give him, but all them words I can never say.... I don’t like to open the bundle, Clarence. Tell me, what is the present?

Clarence

I’ll show you, Mrs. Rabinowitz. [Takes package, opens it on the table.] According to our financial status, this is the most appropriate symbol of our esteem I could find. There you are! [It is a praying shawl!]

Sara

A praying shawl!

Yudelson

A praying shawl! Must have been a sale some place!

Sara

That’s very nice, Clarence. It was smart you should think of a praying shawl. [Cantor is heard humming off stage.] Ssh! I think the Cantor is coming. [Sara quickly takes the shawl and hides it somewhere on the sideboard. Clarence and Yudelson nervously move toward the door as the Cantor enters.]

Cantor

Yudelson.

Yudelson

Good evening, Cantor.

Cantor

Mr. Kahn.

Clarence

Good evening, Cantor!

Cantor

Well, you came to see me?

[They are confused, embarrassed, and fidget as they maneuver closer to the door.]

Yudelson

Well, you see, we was speaking of Clarence’s graduation, and—and—we just dropped in to say goodbye!

[They go out with ludicrous haste.]

Cantor

[Looks around, surprised]. Well, what’s the matter with them? What’s happening today, Sara? Why did they came?

Sara

Well, they—they came—You’ll soon find out, Yosele. Supper will be ready—then you’ll know.

Cantor

What will I know at supper?

Sara

Well, we’re going to have turkey ... and wine—

Cantor

Turkey! Today? It’s only Thursday. Not even Sabbath evening. What kind business is turkey in the middle of the week?... You are expecting company? [He pinches her cheek.]

Sara

[With blissful secretiveness]. Maybe! [Then she surrenders, her face aglow.] Don’t you know what day it is today?

Cantor

Thursday. What kind holiday is it?

Sara

Guess.

Cantor

Now, Sara, stop fooling with me. Soon Moey is coming back, and I want to practice with him a little bit more. Tell me.

Sara

[Kissing him]. It’s today your birthday, Yosele! the 14th day from August!