Mr. Goldwyn sat forward at his desk and peered over his glasses. You’re a what?”
“I’m a Jew, Mr. Goldwyn, and I can’t work on the high holy days.”
“You mean it? It’s not one of your little jokes?”
“No. I’ll do anything in the world for you, Mr. Goldwyn, but I won’t work on Yom Kippur.”
“You’re a real Jew?”
“Yes, sir. I converted several months ago.”
“You know what it’ll cost me to suspend production for a day? We can’t change the schedule, it’s too late. Twenty-five thousand. Maybe more.”
“I just learned today that I’m scheduled to shoot on Yom Kippur, sir. I came up as soon as I heard.”
He threw out his hands. “Sammy –answer me a question. What did I ever do to you?”
“Sir, you’ve been wonderful and I feel terrible about the problems I’m causing you. It’s one day of the year when I won’t work. I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Sir, you’ve been wonderful and I feel terrible about the problems I’m causing you. It’s one day of the year when I won’t work. I’m sorry. I really am.”
He took off his glasses. “Sammy, you’re a little so and so, but go with your yarmulke and your tallis – we’ll work it out somehow.” He sighed, like now he’d seen everything and as I left his office he was behind his desk talking to the four walls, “Directors I can fight. Fires on the set I can fight. Writers, even actors, I can fight. But a Jewish colored fellow? This I can’t fight!?”
-from Yes I Can!
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