The Short (Pun Intended) Redemptive Life of Little Ned
197 pages
English

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197 pages
English
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Description

A page-turning journey through the early twentieth century, as three children of poor Jewish families stagger beneath the grueling promise of the American Dream.
Early in the twentieth century, three children of poor Jewish immigrants stagger beneath the grueling promise of the American Dream.
Nate Cohen, the pint-size, angry son of an alcoholic San Francisco prizefighter and Bohemian mother, becomes a parttime criminal. Working at a restaurant, he hurls bacon grease at an anti-Semitic employee and flees the city. As Ned Christianson, he cooks on cattle ranches in Northern California and Wyoming. After sleeping with a rancher’s daughter, Ned joins a Wild West show.
Kayleh Rubenstein, a red-headed tailor’s daughter, becomes the child vaudeville star Clara Robbins. Her Uncle Henry (Zeev) manages her then sells her contract to a vaudeville star who abuses her and, when she finally resists, destroys her career. Clara descends into liquor and morphine.
Jake Orlinsky, a New York orphan, performs as the child-magician Joseph Hartwig in a saloon below a brothel. After losing his job, he picks pockets and entertains on the street. Harry Houdini briefly befriends him. Following a fatal run-in at a New York nightclub, Jake escapes to California.
The three young performers, all hiding their Jewish identities, meet at San Francisco’s 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exposition. Clara and Joseph have a brief affair. All go south to Los Angeles, ultimately seeking careers in silent films.
Through the ex-gunfighter and lawman Wyatt Earp, Ned and Joseph are hired for a western—and get fired. Clara becomes the kept woman of a series of Hollywood executives and is raped at the home of Fatty Arbuckle. A murder prompts Ned and Joseph to leave Los Angeles. A suicide sends Clara north.
They reunite in San Francisco where two violent events lead to tragedy and redemption.

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Publié par
Date de parution 13 avril 2023
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781663252197
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE SHORT (PUN INTENDED) REDEMPTIVE LIFE OF LITTLE NED
 
 
 
DAVID PERLSTEIN
 
 

 
THE SHORT (PUN INTENDED) REDEMPTIVE LIFE OF LITTLE NED
 
 
Copyright © 2023 David Perlstein.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
JPS Hebrew-English Tanakh: The Traditional Hebrew Text and the New JPS Translation — Second Edition. The Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia, 1999/5759
 
 
 
iUniverse
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Bloomington, IN 47403
www.iuniverse.com
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5218-0 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5219-7 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023906627
 
iUniverse rev. date: 04/12/2023
CONTENTS
PART ONE
1903 AMERICAN-BORN
FISTICUFFS AND SPOOKED HORSES
THE NIGHTINGALE OF MAXWELL STREET
THE DOUBLE EAGLE
GIVING A NAME TO THE FUTURE
ANY CARD AT ANY NUMBER
1906 NEW BEGINNINGS
AFTERSHOCKS
A TEMPTING OFFER
THE BOWERY
HOUDINI
A TOOL OF SORTS
“GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT”
1911 ON THE BRINK
A FIRST
GRIEF AND DUTY
A DIFFERENT KIND OF DISAPPEARING TRICK
REFUSAL AND RESISTANCE
THE MATTER OF DECLAN WALSH
1914 EXILE
AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL
EIGHT-TWO-SEVEN
THE END OF THE RAINBOW?
ANOTHER ANNIE OAKLEY
BEFORE THE STORM
AN UNEXPECTED GIFT
PART TWO
1915 THE JEWEL CITY
OPENING DAY, OPENING NIGHT
MAZEL TOV
TABLE FOR TWO
RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL
THE HEIGHT OF POWER, THE DEPTH OF DESPAIR
EASY COME, EASY GO
AN ENCOUNTER
A PLACE WITH A LITTLE REFINEMENT
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE SLEPT HERE
CASUALTIES ABROAD AND AT HOME
AN INVITATION
T.R.
FIREWORKS OF A DARKER SORT
THE END OF THE TRAIL
AFTER THE BALL IS OVER
ANOTHER DEATH-DEFYING FEAT
A VANISHING ACT
PART THREE
1918 THE SOUTHLAND
PILLOW TALK
COURTESAN
MR. KANE’S PROPOSAL
TWO DISTURBING DREAMS
LITTLE NED
FATTY’S PARTY
1919 DARKNESS
FIREBUG
REFUGEE IN SAN DIEGO
ALICE’S LETTER
THE SHAMROCK SISTERS
WOUNDS SEEN AND UNSEEN
A CRIME CONSIDERED
A PLACE OF AMUSEMENT, A SERIOUS MESSAGE
FIVE-CARD STUD
“LIGHTS. CAMERA. ACTION!”
A NEW PAIR OF SHOES
THE RIVER
1920 REDEMPTION
A NIGHT ON THE TOWN
THAT GIRL IN THE WINDOW
TWO ENCOUNTERS
REDEMPTION
ENCORE: 1925
A VISITOR
Remembering my grandparents, newcomers to the Goldene Medina, who paved the way:
Sam and Kayleh (Orlinsky) Perlstein
Lyon and Amelia (Horowitz) Finkle
And my parents who helped make their dreams, and mine, come true:
Morris and Blanche Perlstein
 
The LORD said to Abraham, “Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”
Genesis 12:1
“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,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Emma Lazarus, The New Colo ssus

PART ONE

1903 AMERICAN-BORN

FISTICUFFS AND SPOOKED HORSES
T he two boys circled each other in the May sunshine. The taller, his freckled face red with anger, figured to make quick work of his opponent. In a show of confidence to his classmates, who took the place of ropes around a boxing ring, he tossed his grime-stained flat cap over his shoulder. It fell to the schoolyard’s hard-packed dirt surface and raised a short-lived halo of dust.
The smaller boy, his shoulders surprisingly broad, made no effort to back away. The onlookers wouldn’t let him, but he had another reason to hold his ground. This wasn’t the first time he’d faced such a challenge, and he didn’t doubt his ability to meet it.
The taller boy ran a hand over his close-cropped red hair then hitched up his well-worn knickerbockers, the hem rising just above his knees. With almost comic exaggeration, he shook his fist.
The boys surrounding them roared. They expected to see blood.
Intent on pleasing them, the taller boy launched a right hook.
The shorter boy, the top of whose unruly chestnut hair barely reached his rival’s chest, stepped back.
The taller boy’s sturdy fist flew by.
“C’mon, Paul, stop playin’ with the little Jew,” someone called out.
“Jew’s as bad as a nigger,” shouted another spectator.
“Jews killed Christ,” bellowed a third. “Kill the bastard.”
Paul glanced at his supporters the way Father Ryan looked at his parishioners to rake in their admiration after delivering a powerful sermon on sin. Like Paul, most of the boys came from working-class Irish families and saw themselves as the right sort of people in predominantly Catholic San Francisco. Their small world, however, was changing and not for the better. The neighborhood south of Market Street had been invaded by Jews from Russia—the poorest, most ignorant of their kind. The boys had been told that rich Jews from Germany—everyone knew that Jews were rich despite these new arrivals—lived in the fancy neighborhoods. Everyone also knew that the Jews’ invisible tentacles slithered over the cobbles and macadam of every street in the City and throughout the sewers beneath.
The smaller Nate Cohen, calling on strategy along with concealed strength, rose on the balls of his feet and lowered his fists.
Paul shook his head in disbelief. “You kiddin’ me, goddam Yid pygmy?” he hissed. “You’re about to get yours.”
Nate had heard this at other schools and was hardly surprised when he hadn’t been welcomed here only a week before, the term almost over. The boys surrounding him looked forward to a blissful summer of sports, games and petty thefts about which they’d brag into the new school year. Now, the fun would get off to an early start.
Paul again shook his fist then launched another looping right.
Nate shifted left. The fist grazed his right cheek. A small red mark appeared.
The onlookers cheered.
“The Yid can polish my shoes with his tongue,” Paul crowed.
Nate straightened. His face remained expressionless, his fists at his side.
Paul could see that the little Jew-bastard lacked the guts to fight and pumped his fists. He pictured himself the defender of all that America stood for. On his first day in class, the runt Jewboy had the nerve to say that Teddy Roosevelt, visiting San Francisco in a week to dedicate a statue of Admiral Dewey, was the greatest president ever. The dumb kike obviously knew nothing about George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, not to mention General U.S. Grant, who won the Civil War. The kid claimed he was born in San Francisco, but only a foreigner would call him a real American.
“You stupid or what?” Paul asked. Without waiting, he answered his question. “No, you’re scared. Everyone knows Jews don’t fight. You’re probably gonna piss all over yourself.”
Laughter rose from the crowd followed by shouts of “Teach the Jew a lesson!” and “Finish him off!”
Nate stuck his chin out.
Paul’s cheeks flushed darker. The kid had no idea what he had coming. “You got any Jew prayers, better say ’em now.”
Nate grinned.
Furious, Paul sucked in a deep breath, lunged and swung a third right that carried even more force.
Nate ducked and sent a left into the taller boy’s belly.
Air shot out of Paul’s lungs like the backfire of an automobile. His knees buckled.
Nate connected a right with Paul’s jaw.
As Paul collapsed, a tooth shot into the air. He lay on his back, his chest heaving. Blood spurting from his nose, he sobbed.
Angered by what they’d seen and unconvinced, three boys charged Nate.
He ignored the fists that found his arms, shoulders and chin, and landed blows that drew cries of pain from his attackers.
Miss Maloney appeared, paddle in hand, walked forward and shouted, “Desist!”
The boys guessed that the word meant stop .
Nate Cohen rose to his feet confident that anyone who wanted to pick on him during the rest of the school year would think twice. His father, he was sure, would be proud of all his son had learned.
“Give a look, the wagon don’t have no accident,” Sam Cohen ordered Nate the next day inside the loading dock at the Jackson Brewery.
Having accompanied Papa on his route the last three summers, Nate knew his way around horses. More, horses took to him. Alberta and Daisy, two of the brewery’s huge Belgian draft horses, had nuzzled his cheek when he checked them out only moments before. But Papa had become more and more forgetful, and re

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