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PAGE 4 THE SOUTHERN ISRAELITE July 4, 1986 The Southern Israelite The Weekly Newipoper For Southern Jevyrv Since 1925’ Vida Goldgar Editor and Publisher Leonard Goldstein Advertising Director Luna Levy Associate Editor Eschol A. Harrell Production Manager Lutz Baum Business Manager Published every Friday by The Southern Israelite, Inc. Second Class Postage paid at Atlanta, Ga (ISSN 00388) (UPS 776080) POSTMASTER: Send address changes to The Southern Israelite, P O Box 77388, Atlanta, GA 30357 Mailing Address: P.O. Box 77388, Atlanta, Georgia 30357 Location: 188 15th St., N.W., Atl., Ga. 30318 Phone (404)876-8248 Advertising rates available upon request. Subscriptions: $23.00, 1 year; $41.00, 2 ‘ ears Member of Jewish Telegraphic Agency; Religious News Servii e; American Jewish Press Assn.; Georgia Press Assn.; National Newsp >er Assn. Happy Birthday Vida Goldgar ‘God Bless America’ This weekend’s celebration surrounding the newly renovated Statue of Liberty has me pulled in two directions. Half of me wishes I could be in New York, despite all the glitz and glitter, hype and hoopla. First choice for location would be on the deck of one of the tall ships. The other half longs to run off to a small town, like the one of my youth, where the Fourth of July parade made up in enthusiasm what it lacked in professional plan ning. Bicycles decorated with red, white and blue crepe paper and tiny flags stapled to gold-tipped dowels were just as important as the fan ciest float. The drum major sometimes dropped his baton but the Stars and Stripes was carried just as high and just as proudly as anywhere else. And Pop fired off Roman candles in our front yard before the night was over. I guess there’s something to be said for both. Still, with all the focus on the lady with the torch, I hope we don’t lose sight of what Independence Day really commemorates. I suspect that the reason this is so much on my mind is because of my recent visit to Boston, with all its reminders of the beginning of American liberty. Cheek by jowl with modern skyscrapers are such historic structures as Faneuil Hall, called the Cradle of Liberty (as, sometimes, is Boston itself), and the Old State House, dating from 1713. The latter, now a museum, includes in its display cases a red coat worn by John Hancock, the first man to sign the Declara tion of Independence, and real Paul Revere silver. It’s easy to envision Samuel and John Adams, Hancock and the others in the building. Oddly, blending history with the needs of a modern city, below ground at the Old State House is a subway station. Just in front is a carefully preserved ring of cobblestones, scene of the Boston Massacre, the first site of actual bloodshed before the Revolution. You can feel the birth pangs of our nation when you see the Old North Church of “One if by land, two if by sea” fame, Faneuil Hall, which combined a free enterprise market on the first floor with a free market place for the exchange of ideas upstairs. And still does. The Bunker Hill Monument looms ahead and, not far away in Boston Harbor, from a slightly later date, is the frigate known as “Old Ironsides,” the U.S.S. Constitution, which gained its greatest fame in the War of 1812. Did you know that one reason for the appellation “Old Ironsides” was the sturdy Georgia live oak used in the construction of her sides? This isn’t meant to be a tour guide and liberty’s landmarks aren’t confined to Massachusetts; not by a long shot. So this weekend, as we pay special attention to Miss Liberty; one of our most visible and widely known symbols of the United States of America, it really doesn’t matter if we celebrate in New York, or some small town, or in front of the television in Atlanta. What does matter is that we take a little time to think about the deeper meanings of freedom and remember those flesh-and-blood people who made it happen in the beginning and those who have kept us free in the generations since. Maybe Irving Berlin said it best: “God Bless America.” Farber Pharr out “lots of promise.” In his act Farber lets the audience know early that he proudly attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. He also confesses to being at the “top of the list of those who failed.” He completed his ed ucation at Guilford College and spent two years in the army. After his military stint he went to work for his father’s business, Marcus and Farber Sportswear, and sold ladies apparel. But he soon tired of the traveling and “waking up in Valdosta and telling Mr. Schwartz, ‘I’m happy to be in Valdosta.’ ” Show business had gotten into his blood. About the time he entered his teens, Aunt Selma would take him to Bucks County, Pa., an area noted for its theaters, and the spark was ignited. While still selling clothes for his father, he took a weekend job in 1967 at the Jungle Bar, a strip club in the old Clermont Hotel on Ponce de Leon. He played the piano, which he learned by ear. Leaving the security of his father’s business, he next went to work playing the piano five nights a week at the now-defunct restau rant, Brothers Two, where he stayed three years. That was followed by a year and a half at the Coach and Six restaurant. From there he moved to The Lark and the Dove restaurant, a 10 year engagement. Farber describes himself as a “political and emotional Jew.” He admits to being non-observant, but takes credit for attending two seders during Passover. He’s proud to be Jewish and “ashamed” of the focus on materialism he sees in the community. He tries to “human ize his own Judaism and notes his support of Jewish causes such as the 10 ORT parties held last year at his club. At Israel EXPO last year he handled the distribution of shekels and boasted that not one was missing. Well, “maybe one was missing,” he corrected. A strong supporter of Israel, he would nevertheless return some of the captured territory, conditioned on the United Nations protecting Israel’s borders. Although he hasn’t been to Israel, he claims that he has been to Great Neck and Scarsdale. His act is filled with Jewish humor, which some could find offensive. But he has received very little criticism. He does recall one woman, who commented that he was the “worst influence on the Jewish community.” Farber believes people have to be able to laugh at themselves. As for non-Jews under standing his humor, northerners do, he acknowledges, while sou therners “get off on the energy." His two major regrets are not having any children and not living in New York City, which he des cribes as being “as close to heaven as you can get.” His mother once said of Jerry and his brother, Barry, who hosts a radio talk show in New York, ‘I love these boys. I’ve known them all their lives. I wouldn’t take a million dollars cash for either of them, but I wouldn’t give a nickel for another one.” Farber is celebrating the third anniversary of his club on Pharr Road and hopes to open 200 more clubs in the Buckhead area. If h e finances, the cost to open a fran chise is $200,000. If you’ve got the cash, it’ll only cost $600.00. Une offre trop bonne a resister! Thursday, the United States of America kicked off a birthday party in New York’s harbor. Originally named “Liberty Enlight ening the World,” the birthday girl has come to be known as the “Statue of Liberty,” or just “Miss Liberty.” She was intended to be a symbol of friendship between America and France. But a cu rious combination of poetry and history expanded her meaning. A young Jewish woman, Emma Lazarus, wrote a verse about “The New Colossus.” Unlike the ancient world’s Colossus of Rhodes, inspiring fear and awe of power, this new colossus is a Mother of Exiles, offering sanctuary and hope and freedom. The poem, inscribed on a plaque, is now affixed to the entranceway of the statue’s pedestal. The historical event was actually the mass arrival of such exiles as Lazarus described. In 1886, the year of the statue’s dedication, 334,203 immigrants arrived on our shores. In 1907, another 1,285,349 joined them. Since then the numbers continue to mount. Miss Liberty has earned her nickname, Mother of Exiles. For those who were welcomed by Miss Liberty and for their descendants, Emmas Lazarus’ poem has special meaning. And it ought to mean that same thing to all free men. The last five lines bear repeating; Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me. / lift my lamp beside the golden door! Mother of Exiles, Happy Birthday! M. M. by Stanley M. Lefco Arrogant. Abrasive. Absurd. And talented, and, yes, very funny. That’s Jerry Farber on stage, who may be Atlanta’s best known Jew ish personality. Caring. Commit ted. Concerned. That’s Jerry Farber off stage, a side he does allow his audience to sec in bits and pieces. Farber was born and grew up in Greensboro, N.C. His Jewish edu cation and activities followed a common pattern: bar mitzva and membership in Young Judaea and the Aleph Zadik Aleph (AZA) of B’nai B’rith. He served as president of his AZA chapter. In 1957, he graduated from high school “with out honors,” but he admits having T"T»- ■ ' •V JMT'!