Features
David Steinberg speaks fondly of his Winnipeg roots in autobiography
By MARTIN ZEILIG When asked why he decided to write this entertaining and insightful book comedian/director/writer/producer/actor David Steinberg provides a concise and reasonable response.
“Money,” Steinberg said in an email response to a series of questions sent to him by this reporter.
He seems to be following, at least in part, the wise words of Samuel Johnson (Dr. Johnson) the 18th century English writer, moralist, critic, editor and lexicographer who famously said, “No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.”
David as a youngster in Winnipeg
Left: David (right) with his older brother Fishy, in 1946
Top right: David in Israel while on a scholarship to the Hebrew University
Bottom right: David playing basketball at the YMHA on Hargrave, 1953
But, to be fair, there was more to Steinberg’s reply: “And I have a lot of memories and information about comedy and comedians I wanted to share.”Steinberg grew up in Winnipeg, where he studied theology at yeshiva at the age of fifteen, and went to the University of Chicago, leaving to become a member of Second City, notes his bio.
He appeared on Broadway with Elliot Gould in Jules Feiffer’s Little Murders and Carry Me Back to Morningside Heights, directed by Sidney Poitier. During Steinberg’s almost three decades as a stand-up comedian, beginning at the Bitter End, he released four comedy albums and received two Grammy nominations. Steinberg has directed many TV shows, among them Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Designing Women, The Bob Newhart Show, and The Golden Girls. He lives in Los Angeles and New York with his wife, Robyn.
This writer has known David “Duddi” Steinberg for decades. His sister, Tammy Lazer, and her (late) husband, Harry, and their two children, Hart and Shelley, lived next door to the Zeilig family in Garden City for a number of years.
I have vivid memories of Hart and me playing football catch on Primrose Crescent with “Uncle Duddi” whenever he used to come visit the family. David drove a blue 1959 Plymouth Valiant.
On at least one occasion, he even visited my parents, Lillian and Morrey, and played his guitar and sang a folk song while sitting on the orange shag carpeted living room floor of our five room blue bungalow.
While watching David on a television comedy special from Hollywood many years later, my mother reminisced about that special time when the young “still undiscovered” Duddi Steinberg had serenaded her.
I recall a standup comedy show Steinberg gave at the Centennial Concert Hall back in the late 1970s. Afterwards, he invited some friends, including my mother, and family members backstage to visit him in his dressing room for a while.
As someone said afterwards, “Fame and success hasn’t changed him. Duddi Steinberg is still a real down-to-earth mentsch.”
My late brother, Ken, worked as a radio arts correspondent for CBC in London, England for many years back in the 1960s and ‘70s. I recall him telling me that he and his first wife, Gillian, saw a play in the west end, which had first appeared on Broadway, starring Steinberg.
“The play wasn’t memorable,” Ken said. “But, David is an engaging actor. He’s very good.”
Steinberg writes that it took him a few years to write the book—all the stories, reminiscences, tales of directing, performing and related anecdotes and incidents—to get it “where I wanted it.”
The list of comedians in the book seems endless, from Sid Caesar and Mel Brooks, to Don Rickles, Lucille Ball, Rodney Dangerfield, Richard Pryor, Robin Williams, Billy Crystal, Lily Tomlin, Ben Stiller, Chris Rock, Martin Short, Steve Martin and so many more.
“We didn’t have TV in Winnipeg while I was growing up,” the author writes.
“I watched every movie as a kid and listened to every radio show. Radio was so exciting. It was all about your imagination. You were creating pictures in your head from what you were hearing. I always applied that to my stand up. Second City (the Chicago comedy and improvisational troupe) was one of the best things that happened to me early on.
“I learned from seeing Lenny Bruce perform at the Gate of Horn that a comedian could be dapper and still be funny (rare for the time). Lenny was a genius. He was soft-spoken and never pandered to the audience. He was never afraid of being controversial. He was my comedic hero. He was everyone’s comedic hero.”
He also considers being on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson for over 30 years as a major highlight of his career.
“Johnny asked me to host it when I was 26,” Steinberg says. “Looking back, being on that show with Johnny was everything to me. I love comedians and I love my life in comedy. I loved directing all the shows from Bob Newhart to Curb Your Enthusiasm. And I’m so proud of this book.”
Yet, in looking back at his long and illustrious career, Steinberg says that “Getting the Order of Canada (presented by former Governor General Her Excellency the Right Honourable Julie Payette) was one of the most important moments in my life. Remember, my father (a rabbi/grocer) and mother were Russian immigrants, with very little. My only regret is that they were not there to see me get one of the highest honors of my beloved country.”
Some notable excerpts: “Insecurity combined with arrogance is good DNA for a comedian. So is anger, aggression, and sadness. If you’ve had a great life and a wonderful bar mitzvah and you’ve been given a lot of money, you’d make a lousy comedian. You’re better off being the comedian’s lawyer.
“…I may be the only comedian to have made Elie Wiesel laugh; that I was admired by the great New Yorker writer S.J. (Sid) Perelman, and by Philip Roth, Kenneth Tynan, and Harold Pinter. And that I was virtually adopted by Groucho Marx and many of the legendary old-timers (such as Jack Benny and George Burns) at Hillcrest Country Club. I also directed Burt Reynolds at the height of his considerable fame, before he self-destructed.
“It’s a funny thing about comedy: when you give your life to it, it can become a serious business. I spent my life in and outside the comedy world, and it is a world, a universe unto itself.
“But this book is not just about my life in comedy—it’s about my life and comedy in the last half century. I lived through a time when stand-up comedy was a poor relation to other forms of entertainment, when being on a successful sitcom was nothing to write home about. But, I think I was one of a group of people—along with Steve Martin, Richard Pryor, George Carlin, and a few others—who pushed stand-up forward as an art form and made comedy an important part of the culture.
“Comedians ‘steal’ from each other all the time—not material, but ideas. There’s no good comedian that hasn’t stolen ideas from someone. And you don’t really ‘steal’ material. You do your own version of it. And so that’s a bar code. So Shelley Berman on the phone—I guarantee you Nichols and May had their comedic ‘on the phone’ piece before him. Bob Newhart was on the phone in a way no one else was.”
Then, there was the time Steinberg was best man at the wedding of the notorious Mafia kingpin Joey “Crazy Joe” Gallo.
He writes: “Joey Gallo was about forty years old when we met and about as famous in his own high-visibility field as I was in mine.”
Caption under a photo— one of many photos— in the book: “I hadn’t known Joey Gallo that long, maybe a year or so, but I arrived at Jerry and Marta Orbach’s house for a party, and when I got there, I was told that Joey and Sina were getting married right then.When Joey insisted I be his best man, the priest was so excited I froze, surprised and shocked, as you can imagine. (I thought it should have been Jerry, who had known him for many, many years). And here I am right after the ‘I do’s’ with the happy couple. March 1, 1972.
“I remember, as a child, sitting in my neighborhood Winnipeg movie theatre all day, every weekend, watching the same Marx Brothers movies over and over again, and laughing and laughing and laughing, worshipping this great, odd, funny man with the funnier name, Groucho.
“Cut to eighteen years later, meeting my childhood hero, my new friend, Groucho. He could still make me laugh, but this time I could reciprocate the gift of laughter.”
David Steinberg’s life has, as he admits, been a dream built on laughter.
A legend in his field.
“Inside Comedy: The Soul, Wit, and Bite of Comedy and Comedians of the Last Five Decades”
By David Steinberg
(Knopf 335 pg. $40.00)
Captions for above photos, as supplied by David Steinberg:
Left: “On set with Jordan Peele (left) and Keegan-Michael Key (center). Many years ago, I directed Keegan in the pilot Frangela and subsequently became a big fan of Key & Peele. I was lucky to have Keegan and Jordan on Inside Comedy and to get to know these two amazingly talented people.”
Credit: Ty Watkins
Centre: “On the set of Inside Comedy. These are all people I love. They light up a room. Mel Brooks and Tim Conway are always buoyant, Jon Lovitz is so smart and just finished doing a perfect imitation of Woody Allen’s moose story, which he said inspired him into comedy. And my good friend Alan Zweibel, who is every comedy writer’s matzo brei. (Left to right: Brooks, Lovitz, Zweibel, me, Conway.) “
Credit: © Nicholas Rowan Adams
Right: One of my favorite birthdays with Don Rickles, Marty Short, Bob Newhart, and of course my wife, Robyn, who threw the party at E. Baldi restaurant in Beverly Hills, August 9, 2014.”
Credit: Courtesy of the Author
Captions for above photos:
Left: “Sharing a cigar with Groucho, as we always did. He was reluctant to come on as my co-host, but I’m so glad he did; it really meant everything to me, and the audience loved him.”
Credit: The Music Scene
Centre: “John Candy and his family lived in my guesthouse in Los Angeles for a year while we were writing and shooting the cult classic Going Berserk, circa 1982. John wrote most of the script on a napkin. That should tell you something. That was the whole script.”
Credit: Courtesy of the Author
Right: “This is Kong (short for “King Kong”). Kong was my monologue go-to. Sometimes I would talk about current events, and I also would do a Dietrich-like rendition of “Falling in Love Again.” One of the many places Kong and I went was on The David Steinberg Show, the CBS summer replacement for The Carol Burnett Show, 1972.”
Credit: Courtesy of the Author
Features
I Speak “Jew”
By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence
By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco
By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.