TRIUMPH: A Journal Of Moving Forward; Giving Up Wasn’t An Option

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I have almost convinced myself that I built the bike for such an event. It looks like it was made for it. This shabby, half-arsed project might just complete its life by actually doing some good. Shit, my only intention was to build a rad bike. But in realizing a worthy end to the project it both closes the build and opens a door to give hope for someone, somewhere, to live longer. The first superstar started as a boy soprano. In the early s, Boris Thomashefsky won a featured role in Koldunya , a Goldfaden operetta previously staged in Rumania. When the diva failed to show on opening night, Boris crammed himself into her wig and dress and went onstage in the role.

The Lower East Side crowd gave him a standing ovation. From that night on, Thomashefsky was a force to reckon with. By 21, he was a married barnstormer, touring with his own company nine months of the year. Music they scratched together from other plays. Too often those masterpieces lacked proper conclusions—Pincus liked to see his son improvise. I have to write everything out for you? Boris was a great ad-libber and a born crowd-pleaser. A Yiddish poem dedicated to Boris and reprinted in his theatrical programs included the lines: No praise is good enough for you.

You remain the king of the stage. Everything falls at your feet. In his self-celebrating but oddly revealing biography, written when he was reduced to singing for small change at a downtown nightclub, he remembers his competitors in the Yiddish theater. I piled on colored stockings, coats, crowns, swords, shields, bracelets, earrings, turbans. Next to me, they looked like common soldiers. If they rode in on a real horse, I had a golden chariot drawn by two horses. If they killed an enemy, I killed an army. I had not a good voice nor, I confess it, a very good ear.

But is this why I turned from the operetta to purely dramatic plays? From my earliest years I leaned toward those plays where the actor works not with jests and comic antics, but with the principles of art; not to amuse the public with tumbling, but to awaken in them and in himself the deepest and most powerful emotions. In some ways, Adler was astonishingly puritanical for his time. A fellow actor remarked in awe: Two wives left their husbands for him, and he enjoyed innumerable liaisons. But he was also the lodestar of every production he ever graced, a performer of great acumen and charisma.

His idea of motivation was rage, followed by grudging admiration: Though not a subtle actor, Kessler had the instincts of an artist and resented the lightweight, heavily costumed roles he had to play in order to maintain long lines at the box office. At night I must dress myself up like a turkey, like an idiot! If I went out in the street like this people would throw stones at me for a lunatic.

Here they shout bravo! Conflicts among these three were inevitable. For a brief period, Adler and Thomashefsky lived at 85 West 10th Street—Jacob and his family on the first floor, Boris and his wife and children on the second. Thomashefsky, the devil himself go into your bones! Let the downstairs neighbor go through his exercise; everyone knew who drew the bigger crowds, the larger salary.

Once, and once only, Adler, Kessler, and Thomashefsky appeared together in a performance. Boris caught the stage business in the corner of his eye. The scene called for him to break a plate; furious, he smashed two. Partisans in the audience cheered on their favorites. Adler was playing a mild-mannered rabbi, but he had no intention of missing out on the excitement. He broke some plates himself. The others shattered more crockery. At the finale, shards of china covered the floor, and Adler, Kessler, and Thomashefsky were starting in on a table and chairs when the curtain came down.

One of the most spectacular examples of shund—Rashi, or the Persecution of the Jews in France —was written by Moishe Isaac Halevy Hurwitz, an extraordinary hustler who could only have been produced overseas, and who could only have flourished in America.

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He claimed to be the renowned Professor Hurwitz, specialist in world geography and playwriting. Something did not seem kosher, and Goldfaden asked a few questions around town. He converted to Christianity and was currently a missionary in Bucharest. Confronted with the facts, Hurwitz acknowledged that he had indeed abandoned his old faith. The new one brought me 90 francs a month. Hurwitz thought this judgment arbitrary and biased, and stomped off. Over the next few weeks, he gathered a minyan. Before these ten Jewish witnesses he pronounced himself a Hebrew once more, hired a bunch of amateur actors, and began to stage his own plays in the back room of a Rumanian restaurant.

There he ground out play after play, some plagiarized, some original, without breaking a sweat. But at least Lateiner tried to adhere to historical truth. Hurwitz had no standards at all; his strength was speed. Once, in a self-created emergency, he cast himself as a sultan in an Oriental drama.

Hurwitz came onstage and spouted high-sounding phrases for 45 minutes. The others dutifully murmured assent, and as the curtain lowered the audience clapped and cheered as if it had all made sense. Lateiner valiantly attempted to keep up. At first he wrote of the past, then thought to trump the competition with a story ripped from the headlines. His most earnest effort was Tisla Eslar , the true story of a rabbi recently accused of ritual murder in Hungary.

These would debut on successive nights, a first for the Yiddish theater. Ironically, as theater historian Nahma Sandrow points out, the harder Lateiner and Hurwitz worked to accent their differences, the more the public linked them. There was every form of degeneration you can imagine: These were the emergent Jews, after living a Torah-cloistered existence, suddenly free—and drunk with it. P roducers assumed that shund would always win out over serious drama. Yet Moishe was not as simple as they thought. A great mimic of voice and gesture, Mogulesco could impersonate anyone: The action took place on a ship bound for America.

She had to be vaccinated and put out her skinny trembling arm; her whole body quivered; every wrinkle in her bewildered face fluttered. Afterward I went backstage and met Mogulesco, slim and elegant, a sensitive cheerful face, not a sign of the exhausted crone. Oddly enough, while Mogulesco began the elevation of the crowd, it was the ebullient, unsubtle Thomashefsky who brought it to another plane. In , Boris held forth at the Thalia, a 3,seat theater at Bowery; Jacob Adler performed across the street, at the 3,seat Windsor, Bowery. On alternate nights, the two would switch roles.

Boris rose to the bait, advertised his coming appearance in Hamlet , commissioned a translation, and starred in it, as promised. And his production turned out to be the more successful. The Thomashefsky Prince of Denmark played to standees. One evening an enthusiast actually started to strip in the aisle and was shown the door. N onetheless, Moishe was rapidly maturing; the bardic presentations had deepened the hunger for serious, demanding theater. In , at 24, she came to America and immediately picked up roles at the Thalia.

Now she dared to follow the lead of Sarah Bernhardt. The year before, the Divine Sarah had brought her notorious production of Hamlet to England, with herself in the title role. Encouraged by backers and fans, Kalisch was next to cross the gender line. Her performance won surprisingly favorable notices not only from the Yiddish papers but also from outside the ghetto. There were no poses, no struggles for elusive effect.

A Positive, Encouraging Guide to Overcome Failure

T hose reviewers would come downtown the same year to see the most significant portrayal in Yiddish theater history. Adler refused to follow the lead of Henry Irving. The English actor had made the Venetian moneylender a resolute gentleman, obliged to defend himself against Christian malice. A certain grandeur, the triumph of long patience, intellect, and character has been imparted to him by his teachers: En route, he commissioned musical accompaniments by Joseph Rumshinsky. The composer knew the actor professionally.

By this time I was convinced he was insane. Hustling to a dressing room, Adler began to apply makeup. S till, just as the excitable Adler could persuade women into bed, he could also get artists to do his bidding. Rumshinsky created some of his best work for this new production. The theme he provided for Shylock was a grave, haunting cello solo, in contrast to a buoyant, fully orchestrated melody for the capricious Venetians. In the Irving production, Shylock knocked at the door of his house three times, each time a little louder, with increasing desperation as the curtain came down.

I will refer to these 9 things to help me overcome my failure in this arena. Appreciate the ways that you have succeeded in life. Thank you for giving me the courage to try again.

But when I was failed I asked why is that? A few months ago, one fine morning while I was sipping my morning tea and reading the newspaper… I asked myself Why is that failure? Why is that failure?

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I have to SAY that is why that failure. When you stop asking an question why is that? You will realize that is why… Once you realize that is why… Then success is waiting for you. I have no work for 2 yrs.



After graduating in college. Am I unlucky and failure? But I keep positive bout it. Reading all the post here. I failed two courses in my first semester in the university and I ended up with a second class lower. I promised myself that I was going to be a better student the next semester and i started well but along the line I got distracted. I checked my result and what I saw was a clear indication that I had gone from bad to worse. I failed six courses. After seeing my result, my dad got angry and has made up his mind to abandon me and focus on my siblings who are more serious with their books.

Every time i think of this, it makes me sad and most times am in tears. People say I am dull in achieving goals ,I accepted myself dull , People say I am nothing and I accepted but time proved that I am the successful man in my life and in my job too. Life needs nothing but a quality time to plan what to do and when to do and implementation of that plan.

I have made decision to ans entrance test again…. Since they are not supporting me I am not able to concentrate on my study…plz help me to be focused on my goal n also suggest some method to give moral SUPPORT for me which I am nt having…. I had two exams today.. Hello, please I need serious encouragement right now. I look back and see now so much that mattered back in my 20s is definitely not what matters today.

Im struggling to motivate myself , since I have been unemployed for 2years , been to job interviews and not getting hired.

Spring 2004

I have never felt like a failure ever in my life until now. Is there a lesson to be learnt with moving back to my mothers house at 34 being broke and the constant rejection? We cannot have a great victory without a great battle! And I seen it in your own words. I know them personally and what they faced. And they overcame those odds, in ways that defy logic and reason, yet they did.

Life is throwing repeated disappointments…sply personal life.. I am 54 years old, getting nowhere fast, with no savings, no retirement, no plan for later on. I get no interviews, no interest in my job applications. Not thinking about the future until it is too late to do anything, then wondering what the hell I am supposed to do once it arrives. Things that are normal to most are beyond reach for me.

A Positive, Encouraging Guide to Overcome Failure

Own less, live more, and create space for the things you love. Get new posts delivered right to your inbox:. At times, it is tragedy. We experience hardship both because of our faults and because of the faults of others. About Joshua Becker Writer. Now check your email to confirm your subscription. There was an error submitting your subscription.

Be confident within yourself.