Michael picked up some of them
himself, subconsciously copied no doubt, as he saw his father in action, either on the domestic front or on screen.
Herschel turned out to be a poor provider. Even by the educational standards of non-English-speaking immigrants, he was of
a fairly low order. He found he was unable to get a decent job, not even at any of the three huge mills of Amsterdam which
produced carpets and silk but which made no bones about their dislike of employing Jewish workers. He supplemented occasional
employment by becoming a ragman, touting for scrap iron and cast-off clothing.
‘Yes … I know, it sounds like the plot for a 1930s B-movie,’ Kirk admitted. ‘But that’s the way it was.’
Kirk dragged himself by his clog-straps, followed his mother’s advice and concentrated on his education – as opposed to his
father’s wish that he should get out and start earning a living as soon as he was able. Kirk proved himself an enthusiastic
scholar. Just as his parents had sought escape from Russia, he longed to flee the grimness of Amsterdam and reject the local
one-track future of factory employment. The route out seemed beyond the family’s meagre means. A university education cost
money, and they had none.
Even his mother and sisters had had enough. They were planning to leave their depressing surroundings and escape to Schenectady,
fifteen miles away, abandoning Herschel to his self-created ragman’s squalor. One way or another, Kirk managed to scrape together
some funds by working all hours, hitch-hiked to Canton, New York, and there explained his plight direct to the powers that
be at St Lawrence University.
Impressed by both his honesty and his intensity, the dean arranged loans, and Douglas took out-of-school work to help pay
his way, including that of janitor. This also for a time solved the accommodation problem, as a room came with the job. After
a difficult beginning, in which his impoverished background and Jewish origins were ammunition for cruel first-year taunts,
he began to flourish through a mixture of self-determination and popularity among fellow students and tutors alike.
The latter manifested itself in his university activities. He was elected to office of several student groups, becoming president
of the German club, president of the drama societyand, most surprising of all, president of the university student body. At the time Jews were barred from a number of university
groups, including fraternities, and it was the first time in the university’s history that a non-fraternity member had been
elected to the presidency, a move which caused displeasure in some circles. The Alumni Association angrily commented: ‘What’s
this university coming to – electing a Jewish boy as students’ president?’
Issur Demsky, as Kirk was known by then, left St Lawrence in 1939 after his four-year stint a good deal wiser, armed with
a BA and possessed by a dream that was his next major goal in life – to reach the hub of New York’s theatrical scene and study
at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. He aimed high, to the very pinnacle of prestigious learning.
Without money or a scholarship, he set about overcoming the seemingly insurmountable obstacles with the same determination
he had displayed so far in his life.
He badgered, pleaded and begged his way to an AADA audition in which he gave an impressive, hard-selling performance, having
established a talent which caught the imagination of the selection body. Though there were no scholarships available, they
made an exception – and Kirk made a triumphant entrance to one of the most acclaimed drama establishments in the world during
that autumn of 1939. Practical experience was gained in the summer, first as a stagehand and then in walk-on roles at the
Tamarack Playhouse at Lake Pleasant, New York.
He would doubtless have met one Mladen Sekulovich from Gary, Indiana, at some future
himself, subconsciously copied no doubt, as he saw his father in action, either on the domestic front or on screen.
Herschel turned out to be a poor provider. Even by the educational standards of non-English-speaking immigrants, he was of
a fairly low order. He found he was unable to get a decent job, not even at any of the three huge mills of Amsterdam which
produced carpets and silk but which made no bones about their dislike of employing Jewish workers. He supplemented occasional
employment by becoming a ragman, touting for scrap iron and cast-off clothing.
‘Yes … I know, it sounds like the plot for a 1930s B-movie,’ Kirk admitted. ‘But that’s the way it was.’
Kirk dragged himself by his clog-straps, followed his mother’s advice and concentrated on his education – as opposed to his
father’s wish that he should get out and start earning a living as soon as he was able. Kirk proved himself an enthusiastic
scholar. Just as his parents had sought escape from Russia, he longed to flee the grimness of Amsterdam and reject the local
one-track future of factory employment. The route out seemed beyond the family’s meagre means. A university education cost
money, and they had none.
Even his mother and sisters had had enough. They were planning to leave their depressing surroundings and escape to Schenectady,
fifteen miles away, abandoning Herschel to his self-created ragman’s squalor. One way or another, Kirk managed to scrape together
some funds by working all hours, hitch-hiked to Canton, New York, and there explained his plight direct to the powers that
be at St Lawrence University.
Impressed by both his honesty and his intensity, the dean arranged loans, and Douglas took out-of-school work to help pay
his way, including that of janitor. This also for a time solved the accommodation problem, as a room came with the job. After
a difficult beginning, in which his impoverished background and Jewish origins were ammunition for cruel first-year taunts,
he began to flourish through a mixture of self-determination and popularity among fellow students and tutors alike.
The latter manifested itself in his university activities. He was elected to office of several student groups, becoming president
of the German club, president of the drama societyand, most surprising of all, president of the university student body. At the time Jews were barred from a number of university
groups, including fraternities, and it was the first time in the university’s history that a non-fraternity member had been
elected to the presidency, a move which caused displeasure in some circles. The Alumni Association angrily commented: ‘What’s
this university coming to – electing a Jewish boy as students’ president?’
Issur Demsky, as Kirk was known by then, left St Lawrence in 1939 after his four-year stint a good deal wiser, armed with
a BA and possessed by a dream that was his next major goal in life – to reach the hub of New York’s theatrical scene and study
at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. He aimed high, to the very pinnacle of prestigious learning.
Without money or a scholarship, he set about overcoming the seemingly insurmountable obstacles with the same determination
he had displayed so far in his life.
He badgered, pleaded and begged his way to an AADA audition in which he gave an impressive, hard-selling performance, having
established a talent which caught the imagination of the selection body. Though there were no scholarships available, they
made an exception – and Kirk made a triumphant entrance to one of the most acclaimed drama establishments in the world during
that autumn of 1939. Practical experience was gained in the summer, first as a stagehand and then in walk-on roles at the
Tamarack Playhouse at Lake Pleasant, New York.
He would doubtless have met one Mladen Sekulovich from Gary, Indiana, at some future
Similar Books
Laugh Till You Cry
Joan Lowery Nixon
House Rules
G.C. Scott
Billionaire's Christmas Vixen
Cara Nelson
Somewhere To Be
Amy Yip
The Lives of Women
Christine Dwyer Hickey
Her Brooding Italian Boss
Susan Meier
The Viscount Who Loved Me
Julia Quinn
On the Fly
Catherine Gayle
Fit Up
Faith Clifford
Solid Steel (Unseen Enemy Book 6)
Marysol James