To begin with, let me point out that, unlike a lot of journalists, I am all too happy to admit when I’m wrong. And Oy, did I make a boo-boo last month when I said Victor Garber was a goy! In truth, he is a Canadian Jew, so my apologies to you all, as well as to Mr. Garber. And, many thanks to Irv in Las Vegas, for setting the record straight. And if, in future, I report something that is erroneous, I hope you’ll let me know.

Since Hollywood has been so dull of late, and since our Publisher has been waxing nostalgic, I decided this month to tell a pitsel Catskill’ maisse of my own. Many of you may not know, but back in the ‘seventies’ I was a stand-up comedian, and had the privilege of working Grossinger's on several occasions. This indirectly led to my having been asked to do this column, as Michael Fein and I discovered we had known each other waaaaay back then. We’ve been friends ever since.

It was Late November, 1976. I was working the lounge, (the ‘small room’ as it was called,) and the snow was heavy, even by Catskill’s standards! I was concerned that I might not be able to get home for Thanksgiving, as the roads were, in some places, under so much snow, even the snowplows couldn’t budge it! My ‘gig’ was over in three days, and time was running out!

Coincidentally, Jan Murray was scheduled to appear at the same time I was to leave. My replacement act was already there, (a magician with arguably, the worst act in history,) but the roads were so bad, Murray was snowed in at LaGuardia in New York.

The stage manager at the time was a grob, ball bearing of a man with a thick moustache and hair like an un-groomed poodle.

He came trundling into my dressing room on my last night, and sat down.

“What with the ongeblozzen punim?” I asked him.

“Oy, what a kappore!” He moaned. “ Jan Murray is stuck in New York, and he opens in the big room tomorrow night!”

I nodded, understanding his plight. I knew he was leading up to something, but with him, you had to ask just the right question, or you’d never get a straight answer out of him. I just sat there and waited for him to continue.

“Tanya, (Grossinger,) is schvitzing blood upstairs. We’ve got a big crowd and no one to play the room!” He looked up at me; by now so transparent you could have read the Torah through him. “You think you could fill in for him?”

“ME?” I gasped. Up to that point I had never been in front of a bigger audience than a couple hundred people. “ In the ‘Big Room’? You’re kidding! I’m a nishtekite!”

“Nu? You’re all we’ve got!” He begged.

Now, I must inject here, that having grown up in Hollywood I was trained in playing hardball. And, as my mentor, Jack E. Leonard once told me, “When you’ve got ‘em by the baitsem, their hearts and minds will follow!”

“Well,” I said, “I guess I could do it. But if I’m working the star’s spot, I think I should get the Star’s suite, salary, and dressing room.”

The guy’s eyes widened. “Nu?” You holdupnik mamzer!”

“Maybe so, “ I grinned, “ But genug mit der Kaddish. Jan is snowed out, I’m snowed in, and like you said, I’m all you’ve got!”

“And you’re sure you can do it?” He asked wearily.

“You’ve seen me in the lounge, so you decide. Besides,” I added,” you don’t want a room full of oysgeputzed chazzers sitting there waiting in vain for the Kabaret forshtelung!”

“I’ll talk to Tania!” He said, getting up and leaving.

Tania was all too willing to agree to my requests, commenting that ‘Converts’ were worse than born Jews!

My triumph was only to last four days. When the storm subsided, Jan Murray was brought in by helicopter, and I was flown out. But it was an experience I’ll never forget! The stage was incredible, and the audience was great. And, I was told that I was the youngest bodkin (I was twenty-one,) to ever work the ‘Big Room’ in the history of Grossinger's.

I never worked Grossinger's again, because it was the beginning of the end for the borscht circuit. The Mecca of Kosher entertainment had begun to shift to Miami, Florida, and my managers thought I could make more money there. But no matter. At least I knew what it was like to tread the same boards as some of the all-time greats in my field. I had stood on Comedic Hallowed Ground, the Sinai of Show Biz!

Louis Anderson, eat your heart out!!