Who owns history? That question has
proved to be a thorny one regarding the treasure
trove of archives that once lived in New York City
at 31 East 7th Street. The contents of that building
are the remnants of the now-defunct Hebrew Actors
Union, and, with the union officially disbanded,
issues of ownership of the building and the items
within have been complex.
The first theatrical union in the
United States when it was founded in 1887, the HAU
provided an infrastructure for the Yiddish theater
that flourished in playhouses up and down Second
Avenue. Yiddish theater in New York was more than
just a temporary diversion for Jewish immigrants at
the turn of the 20th century.
It was a beacon of hope, fueling the
political, social and professional ambition in its
audience members. Often barely eking out a living in
a city that seemed determined not to welcome them,
immigrant Jews were starved for the messages about
poverty, assimilation and equality hidden between
the lines of the plays, and they flocked to
performances in droves. Setting rules for everything
from working conditions to payment schedules, the
HAU was a vital part of that theatrical movement.
Hollywood's booming success and the
declining popularity of the language were jointly to
blame for the demise of Yiddish theater, but a
diminished HAU continued through the 1990s. Then
Seymour Rexite, the union's president, died in 2002
at age 91; in October 2005, the HAU was officially
labeled non-operational by its umbrella union, [the]
Associated Actors and Artistes of America.
With no president and no functioning
union, the issue of ownership arose for HAU's
physical remnants -- music librettos, play
manuscripts, costumes and props.
Ex-members squabbled over the
restoration of the relics of their theatrical past.
The questions were countless: Did archives belong to
the union or to its members' descendants? Who would
do the restoration? Where would the archives be
housed? (Major contenders were Harvard's Widener
Library and the New York-based YIVO Institute for
Jewish Research.) Who would pay for all this? An
acting board was assembled to help unravel these
issues.
After reading about the dilapidated
archives in a New York Times article this past May,
Los Angeles-based philanthropist Eli Broad stepped
up to the plate, offering $186,000 to finance the
restoration. His donation was in memory of his
Lithuanian immigrant parents; as a child growing up
in New York, he often heard them talk of the Yiddish
plays they had seen.
The acting HAU board designated YIVO
as the recipient of the archives, but even with the
grant from Broad the task was not easy. Leo
Greenbaum, an associate archivist at YIVO, found
much of the material to be moldy. A few plays in a
trunk looked beyond repair, Greenbaum said, "but I
still took them, because they're one of a kind."
Greenbaum estimates that the
restoration of the material -- often painstakingly
page-by-page -- will take a year and a half.
Following a public exhibition, the archives will
reside at YIVO, accessible for research purposes.
The fate of the building, however, is
still up in the air.
Bruce Adler -- an actor who made the
move from Second Avenue to Broadway, winning a 1992
Tony Award for his performance in "Crazy for You" --
has strong feelings about the building. A
dues-paying HAU member since 1958, Adler is also a
third-generation member of the legendary Adler
acting family (perhaps the most famous member of
which is Stella Adler, best known as Marlon Brando's
acting coach).
"There's a lot that building stands
for," Adler said. "I'd like it to be turned into a
museum and preserved as a monument to the work of my
parents and their parents before them -- something
that will live on long after all of us."
The creation of a museum may prove
more difficult now that YIVO has taken hold of the
archives. As Ruth Ellen, HAU's acting head, pointed
out to The New York Times, "If they ever wanted to
make a museum out of it, why did they give all the
materials away?"
Neva Small, a former union member who
appeared in the 1971 film version of "Fiddler on the
Roof" as Chava, is also adamant about a lasting
memorial, but she believes it should be a living
monument. "I almost think the building should be
sold," Small said. "Then, they could take the
proceeds from the building to keep the music alive
-- to keep the immigrant spirit alive."
The building's future is yet unknown,
but what is certain is the indelible imprint that
Yiddish theater made on life on the Lower East Side
and beyond. Members and fans alike speak glowingly
of the Golden Age of Second Avenue. "They put on
plays that could break your heart," said legendary
downtown poet and performer Taylor Mead. "Even in
the still photographs, they could just break your
heart."
Iris Blasi is a
writer in New York.
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