The Yiddish Question in the Twenty-First Century

Winter, 1991

 While reading Baugh and Cable's History of the English Language, I was both surprised and a little annoyed to find no mention of the Yiddish language in either of the two places I had expected to find it.  I searched the first chapter for the relationship of Yiddish to the Indo-European family of languages, which has since medieval times shaped and nurtured it; I perused the final chapter on the development of American English, hoping to find at least a word on the impact of Yiddish.  Both times I came up empty, and my conclusion is that Yiddish is difficult to classify and subtle in its influence upon American English.

My own knowledge of Yiddish has never been extensive, though I grew up in proximity to Yiddish speakers.  I remember hearing from my parents such choice tidbits as "Gei kochen ahfen yom," "Is nisht gefiddelt," "A kocher nemt a pisher," and "Ich hab dir in bud," but only later came to realize how much of it was obscene.  My parents, both first-generation American-born Jews who ordinarily used garden-variety midwestern American English, used Yiddish as a code that their children could not understand, so we picked it up only in dribs and drabs.

My mother's parents, however, brought Yiddish with them from Europe as their primary language, though both of them could speak Russian and became proficient in English.  My grandmother would sit at her kitchen table, sipping her tea through a sugar cube as in the Old Country, reading her copy of Vorwarts with column upon column of strange Hebraic characters without vowels.

For second-generation American Jews such as myself, religious education was in Hebrew, not in Yiddish.  Hebrew, moreover, was the revived language of the modern state of Israel, while Yiddish appeared to be an idiosyncratic expression of survivors of the European shtetl and ghetto.  Clearly, there was a generational pattern at work pertaining to Yiddish in America.

Perhaps the major reason for the reluctance of our textbook authors to discuss Yiddish is that it appears to be a linguistic and historical anomaly.  It did not receive its distinctive characteristics before the eleventh century, when Jews were invited from the Rhineland to Poland and Russia as a merchant class in between the nobles and the serfs.  Yiddish developed as a peculiar amalgam of Indo-European and Semitic languages, Hebrew ion its orthography, Low German in much of its vocabulary and syntax, with a leavening of Hebrew and Aramaic from the Scriptures and Talmud, and later a heavy overlay of Slavic and a few Romance elements.  Until quite recently, it was regarded as essentially a folk-tongue without a written grammar and a language that seemed to defy strict grammatical analysis.

Over the centuries between the Middle Ages and the Second World War, Yiddish produced a very rich literature of folksongs, tales, and folklore.  German-Jewish literature, except for the Hebrew lettering, differed little from its gentile milieu, unlike its counterpart in Poland and points east.  It was the spoken language of the masses of European Jewry up until the Holocaust, surviving even the Haskalah, the mass enlightenment movement of the late nineteenth century led by Moses Mendelssohn, which translated modern European literature into Yiddish.  The 1860s and '70s brought a temporary decline of Yiddish, as Russian schools and culture were opened to Jews, but by the 1880s Russian pogroms facilitated its revival.  The flowering of Yiddish literature, in both Europe and America, took place in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.  The Yiddish theater, influenced by the works of Tolstoy, Turgenev, Dostoyevsky, and Chekhov, likewise flourished for many years.

The nemesis of Yiddish language and culture, particularly in America, has been the acceleration assimilation of Jews into the mainstream of modern secular society.  Aside from the shrinking immigrant generation served by the Vorwarts, the chief medium for the transmission of Yiddish language in America has been show business, particularly the work of Jewish stand-up comedians of the second or third American-born generation.  Through them there has come about in this country a hybrid, which some have dubbed "Yinglish," wherein the expressiveness of the Yiddish language is used to pepper English for mass-media consumption.  It is primarily through show-business usage that some five hundred Yiddish expressions-- such terms as schmaltz, goyish, and goniff  have entered the English language and earned listings in the Oxford English Dictionary.  Ironically, many of the individuals who helped familiarize America with such Yiddishisms, such as the comic Lenny Bruce, learned them only at second-hand and used them onstage in place of taboo English expressions.

The decline of the Yiddish language has occupied the past half century and has inspired clamorous debate in Jewish publications for at least that long.  Between the large-scale emigration of surviving European Jews to Israel and the ongoing process of assimilation, the question has often been posed whether the end of Yiddish as a living language might mean as well, the disappearance of the Jewish people, at least if we define "Jewish" in terms of the traditional lore of Judaism accumulated during the past millennium.  Efforts are ongoing in many parts of the world to preserve the literature and traditions of Yiddish for the generations to come, but the time seems to have passed when anyone can seriously expect Yiddish to occupy the place it once did in Jewish life.  It may well be that whatever Yiddish is heard on a mass scale in the next century will be understood because of its present penetration into English.

Thank you, Lenny Bruce.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Birnbaum, Solomon A.  Yiddish:  A Survey and a Grammar.  Toronto:  U of Toronto P, 1979.

Fishman, Joshua A.  Yiddish in America:  Socio-Linguistic Description and Analysis.  Bloomington:                       Indiana U P, 1965.

-------, ed.  Never Say Die!  A Thousand Years of Yiddish in Jewish Life and Letters.  The Hague:  Mouton, 1981.

Kogos, Fred.  A Dictionary of Yiddish Slang and Idioms.  New York:  Citadel, 1966.

Rosenbaum, Samuel.  A Yiddish Word Book for English-Speaking People.  New York:  Van Nostrand, 1978.

Samuel, Maurice.  In Praise of Yiddish.  New York:  Cowles, 1971.

Turan, Kenneth.  "They Told Me That Yiddish Was a Dead Language," Smithsonian 21: 10 (January 1991), 60-71.

IN ROTATION:

• Carl Perkins, Introducing Carl Perkins (Dootone/ Fresh Sounds, 1956)
  

My interest in the L.A. pianist  Carl Perkins began with the WBEZ-Chicago broadcasts of jazz d.j. Dick Buckley back in the 1990s.  Buckley, a native of Indiana himself, used to recall the times he heard Perkins play in his own hometown, Indianapolis, and eventually fulfilled my request to hear him play this album in its entirety.

Perkins died of a heroin overdose at the age of 29, and Introducing, from February 1956, turned out to be his only recording as a leader (discography).  Here he is joined by his Indianapolis homey, bassist Leroy Vinnegar and the lifelong Los Angeles drummer Larance Marable.  Of the eleven tunes on the record, six are popular standards and the remaining five Perkins originals:  "Way  Cross Town" (later renamed "Mia"); "Marblehead,"a relaxed blues; "Westside," another blues, uptempo; "Why Do I Care," a brisk and memorable AABA tune that effectively employs block chords; and "Carl's Blues," at a bright, medium tempo, probably his best-known composition.  On ballads ("You Don't Know What Love Is," "It Could Happen to You"), Perkins usually takes a dreamy, rhapsodic approach modeled on Bud Powell's and Erroll Garner's, but generally a bit faster and with more swing.

It is a pity that Perkins's work both here and under the leadership of a who's who of other musicians,  is not better known and appreciated, not to mention that his name is often mistaken for that of the rockabilly writer of "Blue Suede Shoes."

Perkins's odd posture at the keyboard, using his left hand and elbow in a crablike fashion, has often been remarked upon.  I wish I'd been around to see him play in person.

A more recent CD release on the Phono label includes an additional eleven additional tracks from sessions recorded in 1954 and 1957, plus an informative booklet.  There are four unaccompanied solo performances of standards and and a selection of tracks Perkins recorded as a sideman with Oscar Moore and Jim Hall.  

 

• Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band, Lick My Decals Off, Baby (Bizarre/Straight / Rhino, 1970)
  

I seldom play this album, though it is often praised.  The title track is mesmerizing; hardly a day goes by without my humming the guitar line or mouthing the lyrics.  Most of the rest bores me, especially compared to Beef's immediately previous release, the double LP Trout Mask Replica.  But "Space Age Couple" ("whyn't you flex your magic muscle") has become one of my mantras.  A few of the tunes seem just plain silly, but all the instrumentals are good.

• The Kinks, The Kinks Present Schoolboys in Disgrace (RCA Victor, 1975)

Here's another record I've neglected for quite some time, having had nothing but a needle-drop CDR to listen to. but hearing at last the actual CD in all its glory,  I have a new appreciation for it.  The Kinks' lineup included, besides the Davies brothers, John Gosling on keyboards, John Dalton on bass, and longtime drummer Mick Avory.  The liner notes inform that Ray and Dave were able to maintain some brotherly harmony through the recording sessions, and it shows here.

Schoolboys is a kind of prequel to the Preservation dramas from a few years back, with the principal characters being young versions of themselves.  Unlike some of that, this album stands well on its own, without a narrator, because of the strength of its songs.  "Education" has possibly Ray's finest vocal performance and a female chorus well used.  "The Hard Way" is introduced by Gosling's piano solo, almost a sublime moment itself.  "No More Looking Back," a perennial theme for the group, is perhaps the album's finest track, boosted by Ray's cherished horn section.

• Count Basie and His Atomic Band, Complete Live at the Crescendo, 1958 (Phono)

This recent double-CD release is an important find.  This performance took place on June 23, 1958,  at Gene Norman's Crescendo nightclub in Hollywood.  

• Ari Barroso, ???? (???, 1930-1942)

Lightly and Politely

• Carl Perkins, Memorial (Fresh Sound, 1956, 1957)

Pianist Perkins could boast a huge discography as a sideman, but only one studio album and a handful of singles under his own name.   This release is a welcome addition to that discography in the form of excerpts from three Los Angeles television appearances, most from the KABC Stars of Jazz series popular in the late '50s.  Perkins appears here as sideman to the Leroy Vinnegar Quartet, the Herbie Mann Quartet, and the Curtis Counce Quintet, wherein he participated memorably in studio sessions for the Contemporary label, as well.  Short as they are, these selections nevertheless provided ample opportunity to strut his stuff.

• Tokishko Akiyoshi, Toshike Mariano Quartet (Candid, 1960)

• Toshiko Akiyoshi Jazz Orchestra, Featuring Lew Tabackin, Desert Lady/ Fantasy (Columbia, 1993)

• The Beach Boys, The SMiLE Sessions:  vinyl excerpts (Capitol, 2011)

• Horace Silver, Re-Entry (32 Jazz 1955, 1956)

• Zoot Sims in Paris (Vogue, 1950, 1953)

• Bill Frisell, Nashville (Nonesuch, 1997)

• Nara Leão,  Pure Bossa Nova:  A View on the Music of Nara Leão (Verve/ Phillips, 1967, 1971, 1984)

• Art Blakey and The Jazz Messengers Live! (Everest, 1968)

 

NEXT:  Smiley Smile 

Raising Caine

 WINTER, 1991

Truth to tell, there really is no romantic, exotic history behind Caine, no illustrious pedigree which I might claim.   When people occasionally ask whether I am related to the British actor Michael Caine, I tell them that he's the one with all the money, but the fact is neither of us received the name Caine at birth.  The famous Caine was born with the name Mickelwhite in a Cockney slum, while I was born Daniel Cohen in Indianapolis in the year 1948.  In my own opinion, the idea of the name change, which took place when I was less than a year old, was a consequence of the fact that persons with Jewish surnames were often discriminated against, particularly in the army during the Second World War.  While my family kept its Jewish identification and practice, our new name was not so readily recognized as Jewish. *

[*My parents would disagree, claiming that there were too many "Jack Cohens" in the phone book, and the name change was a consequence of the potential confusion.]

Cohen, of course, is a Hebraism indicating descent from the priestly caste, Kohanim, of biblical times (Kaganoff 24), and so common a name among European Jews would seem to simplify the search of my genealogy.  The matter of my father's name, however, does not rest there.  While he was born Jacob Cohen in 1916 in Lafayette, Indiana, his own father did not adopt the name Cohen until he arrived in the United States.  Harry Korchak (1875-1927), my [paternal grandfather, like so many other American immigrants, changed his surname at Ellis Island.  In Harry's case, so the story runs, the decision was urged by his cousin, also just off the boat, who insisted, "You're an American now.  You should take an American name-- like Cohen!"

Korchak, according to Kaganoff (166-7), derives "Either from the Ukrainian word "eagle"... or from Korczak, which in Polish is 'wine glass.'  This may indicate a sign on a tavern or roadside inn and the name was assumed by its owner."  To confuse matters even more, it seems my father was once told by a Polish acquaintance that the name meant "rooster."

Part of the problem in pinning down the name is rooted in the frequent shifting of the Polish-Ukrainian border in modern history.  Harry Korchak came to America with his wife and first four children from Klevan, a Polish village in the state of Rovno (The atlases I have at hand unfortunately do not list Klevan at all, but Rovno, since World War II appears on the map as a town in Ukraine, about eighty miles east of the Polish border.)  Also from Klevan was Harry's wife Dora Krushen (1877-1946), after whom I received my first name, according to our family custom of naming children in memory of the departed.  Interestingly, for the derivation, presumably German, of Krushen Jones offers Kraus, Krauss, Krause, Krauser, Kruse, Krusen, and Krosor as variants of a root meaning "curly-haired."

Kaganoff (24) explains further that "a popular belief that both curly-headed people and kohanim are quick-tempered  has mad Kraushaar (curly-haired) a name for those of priestly descent."  Thus, by a rather odd route, we seem to have arrived at Cohen, after all, albeit not strictly along the paternal line.

My mother, Mollie Litvak, was born in 1921 in Indianapolis, the second of three children born to Louis and Bertha Litvak.  Litwa means Lithuania in Russian and Polish.  "This has given us the names Litwack, Littauer, Litwin, Littman, Litant, all of which mean 'a Jew from Lithuania'" (Kaganoff (1720.  Although Louis and Bertha met only after they had both arrived in America, they came from nearby towns in Ukraine.  Bertha (1896-1974) grew up in Zitomir, a small city about eighty miles west of Kiev, while Louis set out from Svera, a nearby village.

My grandmother's name Bertha was an anglicized form of Borucha, which means "prayer" in both Yiddish and Hebrew.  Here parents were Abram Smyrtenko (d. 1898) and Molly Zeldman (1852-?).  Of Smyrtenko, little is known, except that the name retains a typical Ukrainian ending.  Smyrtenko was rendered Smith by the immigration authorities at Ellis Island.  The name Zeldman derives from slide, the German word for silk.  "Zeidner, Seidner, Zeideman, Seidman, are all associated with the occupation of silk merchant" (Kaganoff 209)

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Jones, George F.  German-American Names.  Baltimore:  Genealogical Publishing Co., 1990.

Kaganoff, Benzion C.  A Dictionary of Jewish Names and Their History.  New York, 1977.

IN ROTATION:

Lightly and Politely

FOUR RIPS FROM LCPL

• Keith Jarrett, After the Fall(ECM, 1998

double-disc set

Title refers to the pianist's return to public performance after two years being sidelined by chronic fatigue syndrome.  live recording for a concert at New Jersey Cultural Center (?) in 1998, but not released until 2010 on CD.

SIDEMEN:   Gary Peacock, bass; Jack DeJohnnette, drums.

a superior performance overall, my reintroduction to Jarrett, et al.

No Jarrett originals in the set.  Of the twelve selections, six are popular standards; some of the rest-- e.g., "Scrapple from the Apple" "Doxy," or "Bouncin' with Bud"-- could be called "jazz standards."  Along with these come compositions new to my ears from Paul Desmond, Noel Coward, and John Coltrane.

Opening track, "The Masquerade Is Over" (Herb Magidson, Allie Wrubel) is a relatively-unknown tune that should be performed more often.  At over fifteen minutes, it is the longest track on the program.  A long, unaccompanied piano solo leads off; at about two and a half minutes, bass and drums join in and kick up the tempo.  The group recalls some of the great Bill Evans trios.

Jarrett is one of those pianists who "sing" off-mic to his own accompaniment.

Coward's "I'll See You Again" is taken at a swinging waltz tempo.

"Doxy" struts with aplomb, magnificent ensemble parts.

"One for Majid" 

• Joe Lovano, Bird Songs (Blue Note, 2011)
  

• Sonny Criss, Up, Up and Away (Prestige, 1967)
  

• Tony Bennett and The Count Basie Orchestra,  In Person!
  

NEXT:  Yet More Moby Grape