Eighty Is Not Enough: One Actor's Journey Through American Entertainment by Dick van Patten
Authors: Dick van Patten
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I was told by a stagehand that I wasn’t welcome anymore.
As it turned out, Herman’s destruction of Gil’s dressing room didn’t do any damage to their act. By the time The Skin of Our Teeth closed in September of 1943, Herman and Gil were in such huge demand that they also performed in a new show at the Plymouth, The Naked Genius . Thus, Gil Maison and his monkey were, perhaps, the only act in Broadway history to perform simultaneously in two theaters across the street from each other.
But with all of the interesting things that occurred during The Skin of Our Teeth , I was also exposed for the first time to a darker truth about life in America. I’ve always loved traveling, and through the years I’ve had the great fortune to see so many wonderful places across this country. But in 1941, we had not yet reached a point where all of America was living up to the promises on which our country was founded. I received a stark reminder of that fact one day on a southbound train.
One of the wonderful things about growing up in New York City is its diversity. Walk a few blocks, and you can eat Italian calamari, Jewish blintz, German sausage, the black eyed peas of a soul food stand, a Dominican empanada, a Polish pierogi and pretty much anything else you want. The convergence of all those great ethnic groups, with their distinct cultures, is at the heart of the great charm of New York City, and my whole life I’ve marveled at and enjoyed these wonderfully diverse traditions.
But we know there is a dark side to the story; a side where a wholesome diversity spirals down into the terrible racism that has plagued our country since its founding. When my grandparents, Vincent and Rose Acerno, moved into Kew Gardens, Queens, there was a deep and powerful undercurrent of racism against Italians. The Germans and the Irish had already been there a long time—the Germans for hundreds of years and the Irish at least since the Potato Famine of the 1840s drove them across the Atlantic to New York City. But the Italians were newcomers. Vincent and Rose were among the millions who stopped at Ellis Island in the 1890s, and their names are etched on the wall there. Vincent’s parents would tell him about the thrill of standing on the transport ship and watching the Statue of Liberty come into view as they pulled into New York Harbor. Coming from the impoverished mountain village of Potenza, Italy, America really was the land of opportunity for my family.
Although I was aware of the ethnic tensions that persisted in my own childhood in Brooklyn and Manhattan, I never saw the truly ugly side of racism in this country until I worked on The Skin of Our Teeth . When we took the show on the road, the first performance was at the National Theatre in Washington, D.C. I was fourteen at the time, and I remember being excited about returning to the nation’s capital. And, in fact, I did visit the White House, the Congress, and the Lincoln Memorial. It was also a unique time to be in Washington because we were fighting in World War II. And it’s important to remember that sentiments about the war were very different than what we experienced with Vietnam or even the present wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, where the nation has been very much divided. In 1942, attitudes were different. The country was united and defeating the Nazi and Japanese war machines was something that just about everyone agreed on.
Anyway, the whole cast and crew of about forty people boarded the train at Penn Station in New York City. Everyone was there including the stars of the show, and we all sat in the same rail car. It certainly wasn’t like today where big stars fly into the set on a private jet. Fredric March, Tallulah Bankhead, and Montgomery Clift were all onboard as we headed south to Washington.
The train made some stops along the way, first at Philadelphia and Wilmington. Then we pulled into Baltimore, Maryland. In Baltimore, a conductor started passing through
As it turned out, Herman’s destruction of Gil’s dressing room didn’t do any damage to their act. By the time The Skin of Our Teeth closed in September of 1943, Herman and Gil were in such huge demand that they also performed in a new show at the Plymouth, The Naked Genius . Thus, Gil Maison and his monkey were, perhaps, the only act in Broadway history to perform simultaneously in two theaters across the street from each other.
But with all of the interesting things that occurred during The Skin of Our Teeth , I was also exposed for the first time to a darker truth about life in America. I’ve always loved traveling, and through the years I’ve had the great fortune to see so many wonderful places across this country. But in 1941, we had not yet reached a point where all of America was living up to the promises on which our country was founded. I received a stark reminder of that fact one day on a southbound train.
One of the wonderful things about growing up in New York City is its diversity. Walk a few blocks, and you can eat Italian calamari, Jewish blintz, German sausage, the black eyed peas of a soul food stand, a Dominican empanada, a Polish pierogi and pretty much anything else you want. The convergence of all those great ethnic groups, with their distinct cultures, is at the heart of the great charm of New York City, and my whole life I’ve marveled at and enjoyed these wonderfully diverse traditions.
But we know there is a dark side to the story; a side where a wholesome diversity spirals down into the terrible racism that has plagued our country since its founding. When my grandparents, Vincent and Rose Acerno, moved into Kew Gardens, Queens, there was a deep and powerful undercurrent of racism against Italians. The Germans and the Irish had already been there a long time—the Germans for hundreds of years and the Irish at least since the Potato Famine of the 1840s drove them across the Atlantic to New York City. But the Italians were newcomers. Vincent and Rose were among the millions who stopped at Ellis Island in the 1890s, and their names are etched on the wall there. Vincent’s parents would tell him about the thrill of standing on the transport ship and watching the Statue of Liberty come into view as they pulled into New York Harbor. Coming from the impoverished mountain village of Potenza, Italy, America really was the land of opportunity for my family.
Although I was aware of the ethnic tensions that persisted in my own childhood in Brooklyn and Manhattan, I never saw the truly ugly side of racism in this country until I worked on The Skin of Our Teeth . When we took the show on the road, the first performance was at the National Theatre in Washington, D.C. I was fourteen at the time, and I remember being excited about returning to the nation’s capital. And, in fact, I did visit the White House, the Congress, and the Lincoln Memorial. It was also a unique time to be in Washington because we were fighting in World War II. And it’s important to remember that sentiments about the war were very different than what we experienced with Vietnam or even the present wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, where the nation has been very much divided. In 1942, attitudes were different. The country was united and defeating the Nazi and Japanese war machines was something that just about everyone agreed on.
Anyway, the whole cast and crew of about forty people boarded the train at Penn Station in New York City. Everyone was there including the stars of the show, and we all sat in the same rail car. It certainly wasn’t like today where big stars fly into the set on a private jet. Fredric March, Tallulah Bankhead, and Montgomery Clift were all onboard as we headed south to Washington.
The train made some stops along the way, first at Philadelphia and Wilmington. Then we pulled into Baltimore, Maryland. In Baltimore, a conductor started passing through
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