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As ‘Parade’ opens on Broadway, star Ben Platt takes a trip to Leo Frank’s Brooklyn
(New York Jewish Week) — The singer and actor Ben Platt spends most of his time these days on West 45th Street in Manhattan, where he performs eight times a week as Leo Frank, a Jewish man who was lynched by a Georgia mob in 1915.
But he took a detour on a recent afternoon to Brooklyn, for visits to Frank’s childhood home and the Prospect Heights building where his body was briefly taken before his burial in Queens.
“It looks the same,” Platt said, according to the New Yorker writer who accompanied him on the sojourn and wrote up their walk in a pithy “Talk of the Town” vignette. “The door is the same, these railings are the same.”
The Broadway revival of the musical “Parade,” now in previews, follows a seven-performance run at City Center in November 2022 that garnered rave reviews; its official opening is Thursday.
The show, its first revival since it opened on Broadway in 1998, made headlines last month when a group of neo-Nazis protested outside the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre on the first night of previews, roiling the Broadway community.
“Platt hadn’t expected Nazis, but he had expected some hate,” writes the New Yorker’s Zach Helfand. “He’d prepared for the show’s heaviness by painting his dressing room pink. ‘I figured it should be a brighter space,’ he said. ‘I also just love ‘The Wizard of Oz’ and Glinda.’”
Helfand notes that Platt is wearing a “North Face jacket and baggy jeans, with a Star of David necklace,” as they head first to Clinton Hill, where Frank lived at 368 Lafayette Ave. as a student attending the Pratt Institute (the art and design school briefly had a high school at the end of the 19th century).
Then, Platt walked to Frank’s parents’ home at 152 Underhill Ave. in Prospect Heights, where the family sat shiva and where Frank’s body was briefly brought from Georgia before he was buried in Mount Carmel Cemetery in Queens.
Along the way, Platt reflects on playing Frank, his own Jewish identity and, somewhat inexplicably, his hydration habits and bladder capacity. He notes that he is both trying to drink more water and also mindful that his role requires him to sit on stage throughout intermission, without the bathroom break that audience members can take.
“Parade” is Platt’s first Broadway role since he won the 2017 Tony Award for best lead actor in a musical, as the star of “Dear Evan Hansen.” Portraying Frank, Helfand writes, “is less taxing physically but more fraught personally.”
“The trauma involved in this one has a lot more to do with me,” said Platt, who is 29, the same age Frank was when he was accused of murder in 1913.
Frank had left Brooklyn for Atlanta as an adult — an unusual move at the time, but one that resonated with Platt. “My mom’s side ended up in Kansas,” Platt said. “They were one of very few Jewish families. There was a synagogue that’s now been renamed for my grandma.”
A manager of an Atlanta pencil factory, Frank was accused of murdering a girl whose body was found there in 1913. Despite little evidence, Frank was found guilty of killing Mary Phagan, who had worked at the factory, and was sentenced to death. In 1915, when Frank’s sentence was commuted to life in prison, he was kidnapped by an armed mob and lynched.
The case spurred both the creation of the Anti-Defamation League, the Jewish civil rights group whose activities include monitoring neo-Nazi activity, and the revival of the Ku Klux Klan white supremacist hate group. The consensus view is that Frank was innocent, but contemporary neo-Nazis reject that view and he has not been officially exonerated under the law.
Ben Platt and Micaela Diamond start in “Parade” at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theater. On Feb. 21, neo-Nazi protestors heckled ticket-holders outside the theater during the first preview of the show. (Julia Gergely)
After the neo-Nazi protest outside the theater last month, Platt spoke out on social media. “It was definitely very ugly and scary, but [also] a wonderful reminder of why we’re telling this particular story, and how special and powerful art and particularly theater can be,” he said in an Instagram video.
Platt’s foray into Jewish geography extends beyond Leo Frank to the present. He notes during his walk that the uncle of his fiance, Noah Galvin, is part of the Pratt family behind the Pratt Institute. He also reveals that the sister of his friend and collaborator, Jeff Levin, who released his studio albums on Atlantic Records, lives at Frank’s family’s Prospect Heights address. He’d learned that after a castmate visited the site and left a note.
“She had no idea,” Platt told the New Yorker about Levin’s sister. “I figured — based on Jewish geography, and, just, New York — maybe I’d find some connection to the person there. But it was like an hour later.”
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The post As ‘Parade’ opens on Broadway, star Ben Platt takes a trip to Leo Frank’s Brooklyn appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Israelis pause for a different kind of siren: the one marking Holocaust memorial day
(JTA) — For the last six weeks, whenever Israelis have heard a siren, they were instructed to run to their nearest bomb shelter. On Tuesday, a siren instead brought them to a halt.
The two-minute siren was the one sounded annually on Yom HaShoah, Holocaust memorial day. In keeping with a national tradition, Israelis stopped whatever they were doing for a moment of silence to remember the 6 million Jews murdered in the Holocaust. Drivers exited their cars on the streets; shoppers froze in grocery store aisles; and people strolling the streets paused where they were.
Even for seasoned Israelis, the dissonance was strong this year. Hillel Fuld, an Israeli influencer, wrote that he was initially unnerved to see so many people failing to follow the guidance about what to do when a missile is incoming.
“I exited my car and was about to lie down when I realized, that’s not a siren warning of a missile. That’s a siren remembering the six million!” he wrote.
“I felt that emotional confusion that every Israeli knows too well. Sadness. Devastation. Hopelessness,” Fuld continued. “And at the same time, tremendous pride, optimism, and unity.”
This year’s Yom HaShoah is the first since all Israeli hostages taken on Oct. 7, 2023, were freed from Gaza. Some of the freed hostages, including Eli Sharabi, participated in small remembrance gatherings known as Zikaron Basalon. Others posted symbols of Jewish survival, including Sagui Dekel-Chen, whose wife posted pictures of him alongside his grandfather, a Holocaust survivor, and Elkana Bohbot, who with his wife announced that he is expecting a child.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Israelis pause for a different kind of siren: the one marking Holocaust memorial day appeared first on The Forward.
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Many children killed in the Holocaust had no one to say Kaddish for them. These Jews have stepped up.
(JTA) — As each week’s Shabbat morning service comes to a close at Temple Beth El in West Palm Beach, Florida, an unusual tradition unfolds as the congregation prepares to recite the Mourner’s Kaddish.
Rabbi Alan Bell asks to stand all those reciting the prayer on the anniversary of the death of a loved one. He also asks other congregants to stand, too: those who have taken it upon themselves to recite Kaddish for a child up to the age of 17 who was murdered in the Holocaust and for whom there are no living relatives to recite it.
The Conservative synagogue calls the program Remember a Child, and at least a third of members in the 150-family congregation participate. Most recite the mourner’s prayer on the date of the child’s burial as well as on Yizkor, the special memorial prayer for the departed recited in the synagogue four times a year.
But some recite the Mourner’s Kaddish far more often.
Bell and his wife Susan have “adopted” a girl named Renee Albersheim who was born in 1930 in Berlin. They do not know when she died, only that it was in the Kovno Ghetto in German-occupied Lithuania. As a result, Susan Bell said, they recite Kaddish for her each time Kaddish is recited — multiple times a day and sometimes multiple times in a single service.
It’s become a family tradition. “When each of our granddaughters became bat mitzvah we got each a child to show them that children their age were dying [in the Holocaust],” Susan Bell said.
“They were girls from different places in the world — one was from Greece and the other from Romania — and they had the same first name as my granddaughters,” she continued. “I wanted to show the girls how widespread the Holocaust was; it was a learning experience for them.”
The Nazis murdered an estimated 1.5 million Jewish children during the Holocaust, many of whom died alongside everyone else in their family. That left no one traditionally assumed by Jewish law to recite the Mourner’s Kaddish on their behalf — siblings, parents or, for adults, children and spouses.
Rabbi Alan Bell and his wife Susan Bell lead a Holocaust remembrance initiative at Temple Beth El in West Palm Beach, Florida. (Courtesy)
At Beth El, those who participate in Remember a Child think of themselves as having “adopted” a child who was murdered more than eight decades ago. Cheryl Finkelstein, who helmed the project for many years since it launched as a Men’s Club initiative about 40 years ago, said she found those who opted in tended to “take this very seriously” and grow deeply connected to the child they have committed to remembering.
“When I sent one woman a photo of the child she had ‘adopted,’ she wrapped her arms around it and waited until the paper was warm,” Finkelstein recalled. “It breaks your heart.”
The project has gained attention far beyond the synagogue’s walls, and elicited a range of mourning practices that go beyond reciting the traditional prayer.
“We had a number of people who are not Jewish who felt strongly that they wanted to be engaged in this,” Finkelstein added. “One of those women wrote a poem about her ‘child,’ imagining her as a little girl who chased butterflies, living in a world of innocence. And another woman purchased aging software and used it on a photo of the child she had adopted to see what the child would have looked like as an adult.”
Having taken over the initiative from Finkelstein, Susan Bell has sought to gather as much information as she can about roughly 15 of the children whom congregants have “adopted,” starting with a page of testimony assembled by Yad Vashem, the World Holocaust Remembrance Center in Israel.
Ari Rabinovitch, head of Yad Vashem’s international media section, said the names of the children murdered in the Holocaust and for whom there is no one to say Kaddish are kept in the organization’s online names database, which has 587,226 names of children up to and including age 17.
Rabinovitch noted that Yad Vashem has prepared a list of names — both children and adults — with details about them for use in Holocaust name reading ceremonies. “It is not uncommon for groups to access lists of names on their own for memorial services,” he said. But the memorial does not track how they are used, or how many synagogues may have adopted a practice like Beth El’s.
Bell believes at least some have. A Beth El member promoted the project on business trips, she said.
“Several of those synagogues picked it up but I don’t know if any have continued it,” she said. “It takes a toll on you when you do the research and learn what happened to each of these children.”
Menachem Rosensaft, general counsel emeritus to the World Jewish Congress who was born in 1948 to survivors of Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen, is an outspoken advocate for such a commemoration. He believes every synagogue should incorporate some mention of the Holocaust during Shabbat services, to ensure that its legacy is woven into the ongoing fabric of Jewish life — and he sees the Kaddish for child victims at Beth El as one powerful way to do that.
“It’s important in whatever way to bring into our consciousness that we are not letting it become just another event in Jewish history, just another occurrence, just another tragedy, just another pogrom,” Rosensaft added. “Because if that happens, in another generation the Holocaust will be a statistic and basically a catchphrase for people to throw around.”
As Holocaust memory is increasingly contested in the public sphere and the trauma of the Holocaust is joined by other tragedies for the Jews, Rosensaft’s vision has grown uncertain. But Finkelstein said she knew of at least one case where Remember a Child is likely to have impact into the next generation.
One Beth El congregant who “adopted” a child murdered by the Nazis “put in his will that his son was to say Kaddish for the child after he dies,” she said. “He put the instructions in his safe deposit box so that his son would take them out along with the keys to his house.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Many children killed in the Holocaust had no one to say Kaddish for them. These Jews have stepped up. appeared first on The Forward.
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VIDEO: ’Love was there too:’ A Yom Hashoah commemoration in Yiddish
די פֿאַרגאַנגענע וואָך האָט דער „ייִדישפּיל“־טעאַטער אין תּל־אָבֿיבֿ אַרויסגעשטעלט אַ ווידעאָ פֿון אַ „יום־השואה“־אַקאַדעמיע וואָס די טרופּע האָט דורכגעפֿירט אין 2022. די טעמע פֿון דער פּראָגראַם איז געווען מאָמענטן פֿון ליבע בײַ ייִדן אין די געטאָס און קאָנצענטראַציע־לאַגערן.
אינעם ווידעאָ לייענען די אַקטיאָרן פֿאָר זכרונות פֿון לעבן געבליבענע ווי אויך ייִדישע לידער אָנגעשריבן בשעת דעם חורבן. זיי באַשרײַבן ווי אַזוי געליבטע פּאָרלעך האָבן זיך געטראָפֿן בשתּיקה; רירנדיקע מאָמענטן פֿון געזעגענען זיך און ווי די לעבן געבליבענע האָבן זיך באַמיט מיט אַלע כּוחות צו געפֿינען די געליבטע נאָך דער באַפֿרײַונג.
דער ווידעאָ הייבט זיך אָן מיט אַ באַגריסונג פֿונעם תּל־אָבֿיבֿער בירגערמײַסטער, רון חולדאי, אויף העברעיִש, אָבער די פּראָגראַם גופֿא איז אין גאַנצן אויף ייִדיש.
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