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MAX: I’m coming, Pa.
PA: Sit down. Listen to me.
MAX: O.K., Pa.
PA: To be rich—to be poor—
that’s not the important thing . .
MAX: It’s not?
PA: No. It’s not. A man can
live a life of goodness in wealth.
A man can live a life of goodness
in poverty. The important thing,
Max, is that he should have a
heart of goodness. (PAUSE) You
understand me?
MAX: I think so, Pa.
PA: So maybe now, until Mama
comes home, you should go out
and find some wood. (PAUSE)
It’s cold in the kitchen. We could
use a little wood in the stove.
(MUSIC: Narrative Theme and
Down)
NARR: Can a man ever know
when he has really conveyed a
lesson to his son? Can a father
say to himself this particular
word, this particular deed, is the
word or deed which may change
the life of my child? All that
Moshe Eliyahu Abbell, a preach
er and a student, an impractical
and pious man knew all that
Maxwell Abbell's father knew
was that when he opened the
door to the tiny cold-water flat
in which his family lived, two
worlds came face to face. One was
the world from which he had
come—
—the world of Eastern Poland,
a pious, Godly world, in which
a man's station was measured by
his breadth of spirit. The other
was the stark, impoverished
world of Chelsea, in which chil
dren read Horatio Alger. (MUS
IC: FADING) Moshe Eliyahu Ab
bell could not see how these two
worlds could ever come together.
But one thing he could see clear
ly and fully. If he could not be
queath wealth to his son, he
could bequeath to him a love of
goodness and of learning—an un
derstanding heart . . .
(CANTOR): As Moshe Abbell,
hums a Little Bim Bom Has-
sidic Tune . . Register brief
ly . . Then . .
MAMA (QUIETLY) Moshelye.
PA: (ABSTRACTLY, BREAK
ING OFF TUNE) Yes. Freda.
MAMA: Mosheye, I’ve been
thinking . . .
PA: (PICKS UP THE BIM-
BOM)
MAMA: (TOPPING) Mosheye,
are you listening-
PA: Certainly, I’m listening.
(HE GOES ON WITH THE LIT
TLE TUNE)
MAMA: I’ve—I’ve been think
ing we should buy Max a suit.
(PAUSE) A real suit. (PAUSE)
With a jacket and a vest.
PA: (BREAKS OFF TUNE
ABRUPTLY. THIS IS A MAT
TER OF WORLDSHAKING IM
PORTANCE.)
With a jacket and a vest?
MAMA: (GETTING THE
WHOLE STORY OUT)
A whole suit. A whole beauti
ful suit.
A—a new suit, Moshelye.
PA: A new suit? Chelsea is full
of perfectly good old clothes.
Why does he need a new suit?
MAMA: He’s never had a new
suit, Moshelye.
PA: If he’s never had a new
suit, why does he have to start
now? After all, Freda, what is
a new suit. A vanity, an unneces
sary adornment, a -
MAMA: (INTERRUPTING) For
his Bar Mitzvah, Moshelye. He
should have a new suit for his
Bar Mitzvah.
PA: For his Bar Mitzvah. Why
didn’t you say so? (PAUSE) Of
course he should have a new suit
for his Bar Mitzvah. (PAUSE)
There’s only one little question,
Freda.
MAMA: (AFTER A SIGH) Isn’t
there always that little question?
PA: Still I have to ask it, Freda.
(PAUSE) Where will we get the
money for a new suit for Max?
MAMA: The money? (PAUSE)
I’ll ask Max. He’ll figure out
where we get the money (PAUSE)
And thank you, Moshelye . . .
PA: Thank you? For what?
MAMA: Thank you for getting
such a beautiful suit with a jacket
and a vest for Max’s Bar Mitz
vah. I knew you’d want to do it.
(MUSIC: Narrative Theme and
Down)
NARR: Maxwell Abbell wore
the first new suit he ever owned
for his Bar Mitzvah -a suit bought
from nickels and dimes saved
from his older sister’s meager
wages in a Boston Shoe factory,
from rent paid by boarders who
lived in one of the three rooms
of the Abbell’s flat, but mostly
from pennies earned by his own
work as an errand and delivery
boy. At twelve, he was the man
of affairs of the Abbell family—
The member of the family who
could be counted on to fight the
day-by-day battle for food, for
clothing, for wood to keep the
family warm.
(MUSIC: FADING) It was the
discharge of these responsi
bilities that almost prevented
Maxwell Abbell from ever
wearing his new suit at all ..
(SOUND: Urgent Knocking at
Door)
POLICEMAN: (IRISH) (OFF)
Mrs. Abbell! Mrs. Abbell!
MAMA: (ON) (ALARMED)
Who’s there? What it it?
POLICEMAN: (OFF) It’s Pa
trolman O’Reilly, Mrs. Abbell.
Now, would you have the kind
ness to open the door?
(SOUND: Open Door)
MAMA: Max! What happened!
MAX: It’s nothin’, Ma. I’m all
right, honest.
MAMA: (CONFUSED) What is
it? What happened?
POLICEMAN: By the grace of
God, your boy’s right, Mrs. Ab
bell. Nothin' happened. They’ve
had a look at him at the hospital,
and—
MAMA: The hospital:
MAX: Sit down, Ma. I'm telling
you I’m all right.
MAMA: Please, Mr. Policeman.
What happened?
POLICEMAN: He was pickin’
scraps of wood from that new
house they’re building down the
street, and he fell. But there’re
no bones broken, Praise the Lord.
The hospital says to put him to
bed for a day or so and he’ll be
good as new.
MAMA: He’s not hurt. You’re
sure?
POLICEMAN: Sure and I’m
sure, Mrs. Abbell. And it’s a mira
cle at that. (PAUSE) It was from
the third floor he fell, Mrs. Ab
bell.
(MUSIC: A Quick Bridge)
MAMA: Now. you promise me,
Max.
MAX: I’ll promise I won’t climb
up buildings, Ma. But someone's
got to get the wood.
MAMA: All right, all right. I
know. (PAUSE) But no climbing.
(PAUSE) Now you just rest a
little.
MAX: All right, Ma.
MAMA: And we don’t have to
tell Papa about this. He’d get up
set.
MAX: Okay, Ma. (PAUSE)
Ma—
MAMA: What, Max?
MAX: Ma—when I get bigger.
I’m gonna get a job, and we’re all
gonna live in a house with—with
steam heat.
MAMA: Fine. That would be
very nice. Now take a little nap.
MAX: (AFTER A PAUSE) Ma—
MAMA: What is it now. Max?
MAX: Ma—couldn’t Papa get a
job like Mr. Levy? Couldn’t he
do something beside reading all
day and giving Hebrew lessons?
MAMA: Max—as long as I live,
I never want to hear you say
anything like that again.
MAX: I’m sorry, Ma. Only—
MAMA: Your father’s a wonder
ful man. He may not make a
living, but he’s a good, kind,
wonderful man. A saintly man.
When you’re older you’ll realize
hew lucky you are to have such
a father,
MAX: (UNCERTAIN) I will,
Ma?
MAMA: You will. You’ll un
derstand that everything he does,
he dees for you.
MAX: For me, Ma?
MAMA: For you. Max. For all
the children. Everything he does.
Papa wants to influence you most
by being himself. He studies be
cause he wants you to study. He
teaches others the meaning of
Torah because he wants you to
love Torah.
MAX: (AFTER A PAUSE) I
didn’t mean anything, Ma.
MAMA: I’m sorry, Max. Neith
er did I (PAUSE) I shouldn't
scold you. Not on such a lucky
day.
MAX: Lucky, Ma?
MAMA: Of course, lucky. I can
only remember two other days
that were so lucky.
MAX: What are you talking
about. Ma?
MAMA: I’m talking about one
day when you were four years
old when the wagon ran you
over. And two years ago, w’hen
you fell through the ice in the
river. Those were both lucky
days. But today—three floors you
fell to the street, and the Al
mighty—the Almighty held out
His hand so you would fall into
it and not be hurt. (PAUSE)
Don’t think so much about steam
heat, Max. If you hadn't gone out
to gather wood, you’d never know
how carefully He watches over
you and all of us. (PAUSE) We’re
very lucky people to have no
steam heat.
MUSIC: Tag Into Narrative
Theme and Down)
NARR: There were other fires
that burned in the Abbell house
hold besides the fire that burned
in the kitchen stove . . . The
fire of faith cast a gentle and
holy light on the Sabbath eve
ning table, and the fire of learn
ing—of a yearning after knowl
edge, of a seeking after under
standing—the fire of learning
could never be extinguished in
the home of (MUSIC: FADING)
Moshe Eliyahu Abbell
PA: Max, I have a present for
you.
MAX: A present, Pa? My birth
day isn’t until next month.
PA: This is a present that’ll
last for many birthdays. (PAUSE)
Here. Open it up.
(SOUND: Unwrapping of pack
age)
MAX: It’s a book! No. Two-
Three. Three books, Pa. Thanks.
Gosh, Pa. Three Books!
PA: Three wonderful books.
Max. A life of Maimonides, a book
of Jewish legends, and a book of
commentaries on the Bible.
MAX: Gosh, Pa. Thanks.
(PAUSE) Pa—
PA: Yes, Max?
MAX: Pa. How’d you buy them?
PA: It matters?
MAX: I mean—I mean I not
iced you came home without your
overcoat this afternoon. You
didn’t - - ?
PA: (INTERRUPTING) Please,
Max. Don’t mention about the
overcoat. Maybe Mama wouldn’t
understand.
MAX: But, Pa—Your over
coat!
PA: Listen, Max, an overcoat
wears out, yes? Three books like
these last a long time—as long as
you live. (PAUSE) Also, the man
who sold me the books is a very
lb
The Southern Israelite