TV Radio Mirror (Jan - Jun 1963)

ing flatly that he never intends to marry, wants no children, desires no part of the responsibility that goes with "settling down." And yet, he is a happy man. Happy in his relations with his family, whom he no longer resents and fears. Happy in his relations with the strangers who applaud him, the old friends who are proud of him. Happy in his relationship with himself, with his once-troubled heart, now calm, secure, content with the wonder of a dream-come-true. Happy above all in his relationship with his God, whom he worships in the synagogue on High Holy Days with greater understanding than he had in the days when he himself was leading the services. "I know now it was never God who asked of me all those things I couldn't give. It was only other human beings — my father who wanted me to be a rabbi because I was his son, my congregations who wanted me to be inhumanly perfect because I was their rabbi. Some people say my humor is irreverent, especially for an ex-rabbi. But all humor pokes fun at something. And don't let anyone tell you that humor doesn't serve a purpose in this world. It has helped the Jewish people survive persecution down through the ages. "Humor promotes understanding. When you are able to laugh at the foibles of mankind and at yourself at the same time, you're helping yourself and everyone else to live a little more easily. When humor has a spirit and a purpose it is proper, it is good, it is pleasing to God." The world has seen many men turn from "worldly" occupations to devote themselves to religion, to God. Jackie Mason's story may be unique — for he turned his back on a pulpit, and in doing so found peace of mind, self-respect, and his own way of doing God's work in the world. — Sy and Barbara Ribakove 72 MITCH MILLER (Continued from page 22) He stammered something about an early appointment. "I only wanted to borrow a few dollars," he said. "I . . . didn't want to disturb anyone." But mechanical-minded Mike had installed a home-made alarm. Now, as the whole family watched, he spread out the safe's contents and showed Dad: No cash. Mitch had wasted his time. The safe had no money. Mike used it to hoard something more valuable than that: autographs of racing-car drivers and other mementos of his hobbies and enthusiasms. Mitch and his wife, the former Frances Alexander, recall this incident as typical of Mike and their daughters Andrea and Margie. "It's not money they're interested in," explains Mrs. Miller. "They're deeply involved in hobbies, studies, music, people." "A climate for the family" "My wife and I have done the best we could," Mitch explains. "Back in the early days when I was a working musician, I would rarely leave the house before noon and I'd be home by midnight. I spent more waking hours with the kids than most fathers." Now, of course, he is home less. But he believes there is no danger; the children's characters are set. "Besides, what's important to kids is not the amount of time their father spends with them, but the quality of the time." He adds, "Most important is the mother. Without the right kind of mother, not only are the kids not brought up right, but the father could not do it right, no matter how devoted or fine he might be." He feels parents establish "a climate for the family" at home. "It's a language that is transferred to the kids. And you do this mostly by example. I never say, 'Do as I say.' I know kids do as you do." Too, he believes that kids must rebel. "If a kid is smart, he has to rebel. I'd hate to have a submissive kid. If he is submissive, then he is likely to flare out at the world later on. "Sure, it's rough on the parents when the kid is stubborn, but later on in life, the parents will want the kid to be stubborn and independent. "Most kids today are not living a real life until they go out into the world. Before that, they have no experience for themselves. The fact that they won't listen is not entirely bad. It indicates they are tough and stubborn. "Now take my oldest daughter Andrea. When she was at Sarah Lawrence College, she decided to become an actress. This was her decision, and she made it all by herself. She wanted to quit school. For once, I became an oldfashioned father. I said, 'Nothing doing!' I insisted she finish school first." Mitch himself faced such a situation when he was graduated from high school in Rochester, New York, and won a scholarship at the famous Eastman School of Music at the University of Rochester. He decided he was so good in music, he'd study only while working as a musician. But his father said "No!" — even though the father was raising five kids on $35 a week and could have used the extra income. His parents — immigrants from Russia — believed that "the greatest wealth a man can acquire is a good education." So Mitch took the full courses at the University of Rochester and graduated. And he's glad he did. "So Andrea stayed in Sarah Lawrence, graduated with a liberal arts degree, then studied drama for two years at tbe Neighborhood Playhouse. Now, at twenty-three, she is still taking private lessons in acting and dancing. "I insist," adds Mitch, "that you don't go out into the world without the tools of your trade." "A whole person" He admires his daughter's independence. "When she was ready to go out and seek jobs as an actress, I would not get her jobs, though I certainly was willing to open a few doors for her. But she refused to let me. She went out and got herself an agent. Now, I could have called the William Morris Agency, reminded them I was a big client of theirs and asked them to agent my daughter. But I didn't; I knew she wanted to do this herself. "Last summer, we went to see her perform, and she knocked me out. I was so proud! She was so great!" Mitch firmly believes, "If a child has music in his life, if he has learned to read appreciatively, and if you have given him curiosity about everything which the world contains, he will be a whole person. There may be times when he will be a lonely person . . . who isn't? But he will be whole. And what more can a parent do?" Mitch's campaign to raise "good kids" started in 1940 when Andrea was an infant (and when Mitch was starting to grow his beard). Both he and Frances felt the country was a better place to raise children than the big city. Mitch had come from Rochester, a city with plenty of breathing space, and Frances had come from the small community of Quincy, Illinois. So they bought twenty acres and a 135-year-old, big, comfortable, ten-room brick house at Stony Point, 42 miles from New York City. The best of two worlds A trout brook runs through this wooded land, and the' kids grew up knowing the wondrous world of nature. The world of culture was brought to them by their parents, who filled the house with good books, stacks of fine records, a good piano, and friends with strong opinions. "I always believed there is much more to life and living than you can find in any one area of learning," he explains. He encouraged the growing kids to pursue all streams of knowledge, to have an inquiring mind, to ask questions. "And I always tried to answer everything honestly." Mitch adds, "We always had good books, lots of reference material, very good dictionaries. But we weren't like some parents who think their duty is discharged when they've bought good books. In our house, Frances and I read books — we don't just buy them. For years, I read at least two books a week ; but not now. I'm too busy with TV. "I used to read books out loud to the kids. Sometimes, when I was tired, I'd try to get them good and bored by reading some very dull book, like a book on yachting technique. But they'd listen anyway. "I think that if you get kids into the habit of reading, they become good students. Let them read, even if it's comic books. Books should be consumed like food, and they can become a habit. It's not studying per se, but reading.