Harrison is editor and publisher of San Diego Jewish World

SAN DIEGO—According to the rumormongers, heavyweight boxer Max Schmeling was in Hitler’s pocket, and was assumed anti Semitic. After all, he was part of Hitler’s propaganda machine; was in the Luftwaffe; was feted in Germany, especially by the Nazis, and was vilified in this country. From the German Press: “They trumpeted him as the perfect specimen of the Aryan superiority –beating the black American.”

On the other hand, if you believe everything you read, Max Schmeling, the German heavyweight boxer who knocked out Joe Louis, the ‘Brown Bomber’ in round 12 of their historic heavy weight-boxing match in 1936, really was not anti Semitic or a pawn of Hitler’s but someone who actually saved the two teenaged sons of a Jewish friend by hiding them out in his Berlin Hotel room protecting them from the SS and Gestapo on Kristallnacht, eventually helping them escape Germany. As an extra topping on the cake, his agent in America was Jewish and he defied the German machine on more than one occasion

All of these assumptions are played out, including highlights and lowlights of both boxers’ careers in a new play currently being mounted on the Cassius Carter Stage of the Old Globe Theatre Complex in Balboa Park. In This Corner, written by Steven Drukman and directed by Ethan McSweeny, is a fast paced, fascinating look into the life styles and vicissitudes (if you will) of both boxers and as an integral part of that subject, an inside look at the sporting world of boxing, which I found intriguing. Is it all true? No. Has the playwright taken liberties? Of course. But it does make for good theatre.

Furthermore, you don’t have to be a sports enthusiast to enjoy this piece. Druckman’s language is melodic, rhythmic and fun. It highlights the essence of an era, warts and all.  As the young man sitting next to me commented on the way out, “When do you think this will become a musical?” If you are a student of history, however, it will take you back to the days when one of he biggest sporting events, set against a backdrop of an impending world war, captured a nation and “elevated Louis from an African-American hero to an All-American icon”. Given the times, however, the nation was still in racial denial and social inequity. Unfortunately, Louis was never able, in his lifetime, to overcome these prejudices.

Under the new management team of CEO/Executive Director Lou Spisto and Co-Artistic directors Jerry Patch and Darko Tresnjak, Druckman’s world premiere production takes place ringside (Lee Savage and Tyler Micoleau, lighting) with all the accoutrements (ringside tables with microphones, typewriters, three legged stools, period telephones and a convenient place for the characters to change costumes (Tracy Christensen) to paint a boxing fan's dream of the action to follow. The main ‘event’, if you will, is the rink where all the action takes place, ropes and all. Getting in and out between the ropes became a little hazardous at times, but it worked in that theatre.

Five actors, playing multiple roles, over a period of forty years, make the whole picture believable, even though, in some cases, we know better. Their talent runs that deep. But fancy or fact, legend or truth the overall production is greater than the sum of its parts. No question, some of the wonderful dialogue gets bogged down with the rat-tat tat delivery, the rhyming verse and the overambitious need by the playwright to include too much gets wearisome and after a while you stop listening, but the play’s the thing, and this one scores a KO by evening's end.

Dion Graham who bears a resemblance to Joe Louis has embraced his role to a tea. His is tall, lean and while not muscle bound, could be mistaken as a heavy weight boxer by his movements and gait. At first I found him understated, not engaged or focused but as the play wore on and his story of Louis’ life intensified, he had it right and it paid off in the end. Louis’ story plays like a rags to riches to rags saga. From his humble beginnings, his becoming the world heavy champion to his decline into drugs, a bout in a mental ward of a VA hospital to his recovery, it’s like a soap opera. It is so skillfully portrayed by Graham, who is so soft spoken at times, that one wonders if Louis was actually that calm.

Rufus Collins is a perfect Schemling, confident and reassuring. From his first appearance as the young German athlete ready to claim the heavyweight title at any cost, to his rematch with Louis to his disgust with the Third Reich and finally his last gestures helping a down trodden Louis, Collins carries himself with confidence, defiance at times, and with genuine sympathetic acts to a fallen comrade.

T. Ryder Smith, who was fêted by the San Diego Theatre Critics Circle last year for his performance as Abe Lincoln in the Globe’s “Lincolnesque” is no less outstanding as he takes on the roles of ringside announcer, referee and Hitler among others. His calling of the rematch bout in 1938 couldn’t have been any more authentic sounding had you been there at the time. Al White is credible as Louis’ trainer, Jack Blackburn, and David Deblinger is right on target as Schmeling’s Jewish manager and ‘others’.  Katie Barrett is ‘all the females’ and she is a standout as each and every one of them from Schmeling’s wife to the nurse in the VA Hospital to the USO blues singer to the Gal Friday news reporter to the German movie star. Rounding out the cast is John Keabler ‘The Boxer’ a little added value to the evening. Keabler, who played all the boxer fill ins, did some pretty fancy footwork jump roping while the audience eyed with envy, his stamina.

With the departure of Globe’s longtime artistic leader, Jack O’Brien (emeritus), who will be making New York his permanent home, and the new troika steering the Globe’s ship. I expect we will see a lot more innovative and new productions reflecting their point of view on these stages. I’m excited.

In This Corner continues through Feb. 10th.

See you at the theatre.

Theatre critic Davis is based in San Diego

JEWISH FICTION

Autobiography of a blue-checkered shirt

By Sheila Orysiek

SAN DIEGO—I’m not sure where I came from though I know how I got where I am now.  First let me tell you what I look like.  My label says I’m all cotton and I have soft blue and white zigzaggy checks all over me.  My sleeves are long and I’ve been told by my more formal friends that I’m a very casual sort of shirt.  My owner seldom buttons up the top button, so my collar falls open in a comfortable way.  The first thing I remember is hanging on a rack with lots of other shirts when a young girl came along, took me over to a counter and then I was stuffed into a bag.  When I came out of the bag she painfully tore off my label, hung me up rather crookedly on a hanger and put me among several other blouses and shirts in a dark room.

A starchy white shirt quickly gave me the rules of the closet and a little information on my new owner.  The white starchy type said there was to be no fraternizing between the shirts and skirts and I was not to try to shoulder additional space for myself.  Our owner was fourteen years old and her name was Annie.  She’s a nice kid but everyone said to watch out for her mother because she had a habit of yanking old clothes out of the closet, dumping them into a bag and no one was quite sure what happened next – but it was not pleasant.  Other than that no one spoke to me.  In fact everyone was horrified at my presence because I buttoned on the wrong side.  I learned that I was really a man’s shirt.  It soon became apparent I had only one asset, I went well with blue jeans and Annie wore blue jeans a lot.

The first time Annie put me on I was thrilled.  At last I could really begin my life as a shirt.  However, my joy was a bit tempered by the fact that she had aligned my buttons and button holes wrong and so one side hung lower than the other.  It gave me a painful twist, but I made the best of it and curled around a bit this way and that so she wouldn’t notice.  I did want to get out of that closet!  And, I had such a wonderful time!  Annie let me hang free over her jeans and we got on her bike and rode around the streets.  Such sights!  I had never seen anything like it; sunshine, and a lovely breeze whipped by.  She munched a cookie and I got some crumbs.  I can’t say that I enjoyed that part – but otherwise I loved it all.  We were both damp by the time she got home.

Annie really seemed to like me, she wore me a lot and one day she put me on with a skirt - it was the fist time I’d ever touched a skirt.  She wanted to wear me to Sabbath services that Friday night.  I don’t know what Sabbath services are, but her mother was not pleased.  She said a shirt that had buttons on the wrong side can’t be worn at the synagogue - I was not only “wrong” - I was also too casual.  Annie said I was the right color - blue and white - but mom was not convinced. The white starch got to go.

Next I ended up in a basket and then in a metal tub.  Hot water and powdery stuff hit me and I can tell you this laundry thing is tortuous.  It twisted me about every which way and then spun me unmercifully.  Nobody in the closet had warned me about this!  My popularity there had plummeted since Annie seemed to like me so much.  Some clothes didn’t like to go out and did their best to hide, but most wanted to get worn.  Anyway, I survived the washing machine and I got lucky because I was hung out to dry.  I had heard screams coming from that torture chamber of a dryer.  Even though I had to spend the day upside down on the clothesline I liked it; the birds sang in the trees and nearby was a rose bush for me to look at.  The flowers were beautiful but I have to admit I had some doubts about those ugly thorns.  Luckily the clothes pins held and I was okay.

However, I was totally unprepared for the next event.  Annie patted me smooth on a narrow table and I thought this was nice, but oh my goodness that steam iron was a horror I’ll never forget.  Fortunately, Annie hated to iron and I never had to go through that again.

One day I had a real scare when Annie fell off her bike and one of my buttons got ripped off.  She looked and looked for it while I prayed fervently she’d find it; after all it was a part of me.  Well, my prayer was answered and later Annie’s mother sat beside her on the sofa and using me, taught her to sew the button back on.  It wasn’t easy because there were several unnecessary jabs with the needle through my checks and Annie pricked herself, too.  But I was glad to help out with the lesson.

Annie and I had a lot of good times together.  One summer she took me to a picnic by a wide creek in a beautiful park.  Inner tubes from tires were blown up and the kids sat in them in the middle of the stream and floated and splashed each other.  We had a merry time.  I got to go because Annie’s bathing suit did not protect her from the hot sun so I kept her from getting a nasty burn on her shoulders and arms.  My hem trailed in the water and got wet but that was okay because I was hot too, and the water was refreshing.

Afterward the kids all had platters of hot dogs and beans.  Annie took hers and sat under a huge maple tree.  A young man sat down beside her and she looked happy.  They talked and laughed, he teased her a bit.  Then before I knew what was happening he leaned over and kissed her.  I think it was her first kiss because she got excited and giggled and the plate tipped and mustard dripped down on my front lapel. The mustard stung me a bit, but I didn’t want to spoil Annie’s first kiss and the good time she was having.  The mustard never came out completely and there is still the faintest stain after all these years.  I never told anyone in the closet how I got stained.  It was our secret – Annie’s and mine.

There was a lot of jealousy in that closet.  Not only did I get to go out a lot, but even when another shirt was chosen, Annie would stuff that one in her jeans and then wear me on top.  So that way I got to see more, too.  The polyesters were an especially snobby bunch.  They looked down on us cottons.  However, when Annie snuggled down into a chair and held a telephone between her head and shoulder the phone didn’t slip half as much with me as with those polyesters. I got to hear those teenage phone conversations, all the giggling and gossip.

The first few years I didn’t fear the mother very much when she went through all the clothes, after all I was still rather new.  The worst that would happen is I would get tossed in the wash.  One time after I had been there a number of years Annie herself came by and straightened all of us out.  She wanted a neater closet, guess she was growing up.

Then came the day a lacy pink number showed up in the closet.  She flaunted all those frills, ruffling about on her hanger.  I wasn’t too upset because I didn’t think she’d go well with jeans.  One day Annie and I came home in the late afternoon and she took me off and tossed me on the bed.  She spent the next few hours arranging her hair and patting on makeup.  I got the feeling she was getting ready for a really big evening.  I kept hearing the name "Tom."  “Would Tom like this” or would “Tom like that” she kept asking her mother.  As I lay on the bed Annie pulled out the snooty pink lace blouse and put it on.  That snob would be even more difficult to live with now. Well, I lay on the bed a long time until well after midnight.  Suddenly Annie came running in.  She fell across the bed and laid her head in her hands and cried. Then she reached for me and I wiped her tears away.  The pink number looked rumpled, almost bedraggled.  Annie tore her off and continued to cry on me.  I was glad to be of use.

The snobbery of that pink blouse was nothing compared to a long taffeta thing with beads on it.  I had no idea what it was until a white shirt (a new one, the original white shirt was long gone) told me the new comer was a formal gown.  Needless to say that gown never said a word to any of us shirts.  The only good thing about that episode was the gown was only worn once and then was gone which was a relief to the entire closet.

Finally came a day when it seemed every time I got worn Annie was with a guy named Jimmy.  I began getting crushed a lot as they sat on the sofa.  She was a good girl though and I did my part and stayed buttoned up.  Next thing I knew Annie was packing some of us in things called suitcases.  The rumor in the closet went around that it was for a trip with Jimmy.  I was lying on top of one of these suitcases when good ole mom came by, grabbed me, threw me in a bag with some other old clothes and put us outside the front door.  Uh Oh! I thought, this is it, I’m getting thrown out.  A man came by and picked up the bag and was carrying us off when suddenly I heard Annie’s voice.  Her hand reached in the bag and pulled me out, right in the nick of time.  I was so glad to be back in that old closet! The next time I left that closet it was for a much happier occasion.

It was quite a turning point in my life when along with some newer clothes I was put into a big packing box.  When we finally got out we were in a new closet in a different house.  Across the way were men's shirts.  That sure seemed strange.  At first they were convinced I was on the wrong side of the closet since I buttoned like they did.  But, no, I assured them, regardless of how I buttoned, I belonged on Annie’s side.

Once several months later while Annie was wearing me, a baby she was feeding got a bit sloppy and a new stain settled in next to the old mustard stain.  Annie didn’t wear jeans much anymore but she and I were still together quite a lot.

Then one day many years later when she passed a mirror I could see I had faded quite a bit, my blue checks were barely visible though that old mustard stain was still there, wouldn’t you know.  What surprised me was that Annie had faded too.  Her hair had always been dark brown, but now when I looked up I could see it was white.  Her skin was paler and her shoulders seemed rounder.  I should know I’ve sat on them for enough years.

These days when I lose a button she doesn’t seem able to sew it back on.  Her hands tremble too much.  In fact she has a bit of trouble buttoning me at all.  But that’s O.K. I am frayed around the edges, too; with tears here and there, especially at the elbows and my hem is no longer straight either.  We are still great friends though.  We sit a lot by a window and we both like to hear the birds sing, and then we nod off together.  I am sure even after all these years; I am still Annie’s favorite shirt.

Orysiek is a free-lance writer and dance critic based in San Diego






.