Old Jews Telling Jokes

by Sam Hoffman

  The stories in this section illuminate this quintessential conflict at the center of the Jewish persona: the persecuted elitist, the foreskin-free pugilist, the Chosen Underdog.

  RICHARD Z. CHESNOFF

  Richard Z. Chesnoff was born in Brooklyn to a big-band musician father and a singer mom. Since then, in forty years of global news work, he has covered many of the major stories and personalities of our times. He has written for Newsweek, U.S. News & World Report, and the Huffington Post, and as an op-ed columnist for the New York Daily News.

  A Meeting with the Pope

  In the Vatican in the sixteenth century, one of the cardinals has borrowed an enormous amount of money from the Jewish banker. And he can’t pay it back. So he goes to the pope and he says, “I think, Holy Father, we should get rid of all the Jews.”

  The pope says, “I can’t throw all the Jews out. I just can’t do that.”

  “Well,” he says, “why don’t you find an excuse. You challenge the rabbi to a duel over who has the truer faith.”

  The pope agrees, so the cardinals go to the community and talk to them. The Jews don’t like the idea but they can’t say no.

  But one of the Jews says, “You know, our rabbi is very learned, his Hebrew is excellent, but his Italian is limited and his Latin is nonexistent. And with all due respect to the pope, I can’t believe that his Hebrew is so good that he would be able to debate.”

  So the cardinal says, “You know what? Instead of having a debate vocally, they can debate with symbols, with signs.”

  So they agree. The day comes and the cardinals are assembled. The pope comes in, sits on his throne. The rabbi comes in wearing a long black robe. He sits down below. They nod to each other.

  And then the pope begins. He holds up three fingers. The rabbi looks at him for a second and holds up one finger. The pope swings his finger in a circle over his head. The rabbi looks at him and points down to the ground. The pope pulls out a glass of sacramental wine and a holy wafer and holds them up. The rabbi looks at him a moment, sticks his hand in his pocket, and pulls out an apple and holds it up.

  The pope slaps his hands together and says, “That’s it. These Jews are too smart for me. They don’t have to leave; they can stay.”

  The Jews exit, very happy, and the cardinals run around the pope and say, “What happened?”

  “Well, I held up the sign of the Trinity—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost—and the rabbi held up a sign that there’s only one God. I spun my finger to say God is everywhere and he pointed down to indicate God is right here.

  “I held up the sacrament, the wine, and the wafer, to show that in our faith you can, through confession and communion, relieve yourself of all sins. And he held up an apple, which indicates that you can’t get rid of original sin. It’s always there.

  “They’re just too smart.”

  Back in the synagogue, the Jews are dancing and celebrating and they go to the rabbi and say, “What happened?”

  The rabbi says, “Can you imagine the chutzpah? This guy holds up three fingers to say, ‘You’ve got three days to leave,’ and so I give him the finger. He spins his finger over his head to say, ‘You’re going to leave not only from Rome but from all of Italy,’ so I point down to say we’re staying right here.

  “And then for some reason he takes out his lunch, so I take out mine.”

  David Benkin

  Lottery Ticket

  An old Jew was sitting in shul one Shabbos.

  He was praying: “Dear God, let me win the lottery just once. It would make me so very happy.”

  The next week he was back again: “Dear God, I’m the guy who last Shabbos asked you to let me win the lottery. I have kept all your commandments and performed all the required mitzvahs. Just this once I would like to win the lottery. Please.”

  He was back again the following week: “God, I have to confess, I’m getting a little annoyed. Here I am, a pious and prayerful Jew who goes to shul regularly and does everything he is supposed to do. Why won’t you grant me this one favor and allow me to win the lottery.”

  Just then there was a clap of thunder, the roof of the shul rolled back, a bright light descended on the old fellow, and a deep voice boomed out: “Abram, Abram, meet me halfway: Buy a ticket!”

  LOU CHARLOFF

  Lou Charloff was born in Romania and moved to New York (specifically, the Bronx) when he was two years old. He speaks five languages and served as an interpreter for the military government of occupied Germany after World War II. Four years ago he decided to try his hand at stand-up comedy in Los Angeles, making him, simultaneously, one of the oldest and one of the newest comics in the business.

  Herschel the Magnificent Jew

  A long time ago, I was in basic training in the army. I had the day off, and I went into Kansas City. I saw a sign, and the sign said, “Tonight, 8 P.M. at the Parkway Theatre, come see Herschel the Magnificent Jew.”

  So, of course, I was curious. I went, and there was a good-sized crowd in the theater. At eight o’clock, they introduced him: “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Herschel.”

  He came out wearing a bathrobe. He removed his bathrobe, and he was perfectly naked. Completely naked.

  Now, imagine, if you will, the largest, most masculine equipment you can think of. Herschel was four times bigger. He had a bench in front of him, and he put three walnuts on the bench. He took his masculinity in his hand, and he went whap, whap, whap! And he smashed them to smithereens. The audience applauded. When they were leaving the theater, they were still applauding.

  Twenty years later—twenty years later!—I was again in Kansas City and I saw the same sign: “Tonight, 8 P.M. at the Parkway Theatre, come see Herschel the Magnificent Jew.”

  Well, of course I went, and it was the same thing: They introduced him, he came out, he took off his bathrobe. He looked exactly the same; hadn’t changed one iota!

  He put on the bench three coconuts. One, two, three. He took his masculinity in his hands and went whap, whap, whap! Smashed them to smithereens!

  Well, naturally, I went backstage—I was curious. I said, “Mr. Herschel, why did you switch from walnuts to coconuts?”

  He said, “Well … my eyesight ain’t what it used to be.”

  MICHAEL P. KING

  Michael King grew up in Las Vegas, the son of a violinist. He moved to Los Angeles to study at UCLA and attended law school at Loyola University. He has been selected as a Southern California “Super Lawyer” by Los Angeles magazine for each of the past three years. He has four children and six grandchildren.

  Moishe Gets Knighted

  Moishe, the tailor, is in London. He’s been in London his whole life, and he has made all of the clothes for all of the royalty for all of England.

  One day he comes home and tells his children, “You’re not going to believe this, but our queen is going to make me a knight.”

  “Oh, Papa, that’s wonderful! Our queen is going to make you a—but wait, Papa, the queen can’t make you a knight.”

  Moishe says, “Why is that?”

  “Because you have to speak Latin to the queen, and you don’t know any Latin!”

  “Oh, my children,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

  So he goes to the church, takes out a book, and reads and memorizes the Latin in the book.

  The night comes when all of the knights-to-be will be made knights by the queen. Moishe goes to Prince Albert Hall and the queen is sitting on her throne at the end of a long red-carpeted aisle.

  Each knight puts one knee down, and then the other knee. The queen takes the sword and puts it on one shoulder, and then the other shoulder.

  “Arise, Sir John! Arise, Sir Charles!” The knights look at the queen and say this beautiful phrase in Latin.

  Now it’s Moishe’s turn. He’s walking down the aisle—all the way down the red carpet—and he puts one knee down, and the sword goes on his shoulder. He puts the other knee down, and the sword goes on his other sho
ulder. He stands up, and he completely forgets what he’s supposed to say. The only thing he can think of—in the only foreign language he knows—is “Mah nishtana ha’leilah hazeh, mikol ha’leilot.”

  The queen looks at him, looks around, then says, “Why is this knight different from all the other knights?”

  FRED RUBIN

  Fred Rubin was born and raised in Chicago. For twenty-three years he wrote and produced network television sitcoms, working on such classics as Diff’rent Strokes, Night Court, and Archie Bunker’s Place. He is currently an assistant professor at UCLA in the department of theater, film, and television.

  New York Athletic Club

  Bernie, an old Jew who has spent many years in the clothing business, is retiring. His friends ask him, “What’re you gonna do after you retire?”

  He says, “I think I’ll go down and join the New York Athletic Club.”

  They say, “Bernie, what are you, crazy? They’ll never let a Jew in there!”

  And he says, “Well, I have my ways. I think I can get in.”

  Sure enough, after Bernie retires, he puts on a blue blazer with gold buttons, a pin-striped shirt, red silk tie, khaki Dockers, and boat shoes, and goes down to the New York Athletic Club to interview. He gets taken into a sumptuous room and a well-dressed elegant man comes out to interview him. The man sits down opposite Bernie and says, “Your name, sir?”

  He says, “Ah, yes. It’s Bernard Throckmorten, the Third.”

  The interviewer writes it down. “And what line of work are you in, sir?”

  Bernie says, “Well, yes, I’m retired now, but for many years I had a small boutique advertising agency on Park Avenue.”

  The interviewer writes that down. “Are you married, sir? Do you have children?”

  “Yes, my wife Mary does quite a bit of work for the Junior League. I have two children: Buffy and Chip. They will be matriculating this year at Harvard and Yale, respectively.”

  He says, “I see, sir. And your religion?”

  “Ah, yes, we’re goyim.”

  LARRY GREENFIELD

  Larry Greenfield is a native of Trenton and a graduate of Princeton University. He has three children and one grandchild. He lives in New York, with the love of his life, Robin, and manages computer systems for the Metropolitan Transportation Authority. Greenfield was once a civil engineer, and he holds two patents, one of which is on a wheel. (And they said it couldn’t be reinvented!)

  Sidney the Lumberjack

  Sidney, who’s almost ninety years old, weighs maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, walks up behind the head lumberjack, taps him on the shoulder, and says, “Excuse me, I’d like a job chopping down trees.”

  The lumberjack, six foot four, 275 pounds of muscle, turns around and looks at skinny, little old Sidney, and says, “You’ve got to be kidding. This is a tough job. Not for little old men like you. Besides, where did you ever work before chopping down trees?”

  “Well, I’ll have you know,” says Sidney, “I used to work at the Sahara Forest.”

  The lumberjack looks at him and says, “You mean the Sahara Desert?”

  “Oh, well, now!”

  ALAN KESSLER

  Alan Kessler, born in Brooklyn, is the CEO of an international Japanese construction and real estate company. He also paints and practices photography.

  A Trip to Miami

  So Irving is sitting at home reading the Forvitz and he sees a little ad that says “Round-trip cruise to Miami, $35.”

  And he sees a phone number there, so he picks up the phone and he calls the number and the guy answers and he says, “Is this for real?”

  “Yes, this is for real.”

  “Well, what do I do?”

  “When do you want to go?”

  “I’ll go tomorrow.”

  “Well, you just pack a little bag, you stand in front of your building, and we’ll pick you up and take you to the boat.”

  So Irving packs a little bag, and the next morning he stands in front of his building. Up pulls a van. Two big guys get out, they grab Irving, they throw him in the van. They take his little bag, they throw it in the van, they drive to the Hudson River, pier 36. They take Irving out, they schlep him out onto the pier, they put him into a galley ship and tie him to an oar.

  Suddenly, this big guy comes out with a whip and he starts whipping everybody and they start to row. He’s yelling, “Row!” and he’s whipping them.

  This goes on for three days, the rowing and the whipping, and finally they’re pulling into the port of Miami.

  Irving turns to the guy next to him and says, “You ever do this before?”

  “I do it every year.”

  “Well, maybe you can tell me something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How much do you tip the whipper?”

  MICHAEL MILLER

  Michael Miller is a television and documentary writer/producer and practical joker. He’s been an Angeleno, a New Yorker, and a Buffalonian. A lifetime appreciator of Jewish humor, since long before his bar mitzvah, he learned about sex from Belle Barth and life from Lenny Bruce. Or maybe it was vice versa.

  Desert Island

  This man has been stranded on a desert island for many, many years. Every day he goes out to the beach and looks out on the horizon, looking for some action.

  One day he sees a steamer in the distance. He’s so excited! It’s the first sign of life he’s seen in years. He builds a little fire by the shore and throws some leaves on it, so there’ll be smoke rising. He starts jumping around, waving his hands.

  Sure enough, the steamer stops, turns, and starts heading toward him. He’s so thrilled! He sees the small lifeboat come off, six guys jump in it, and they’re paddling to him.

  He runs out to meet them. “I’m so happy you came here.”

  They say, “Sir, we’ll take you wherever you want to go. We’re here to save you.”

  He says, “That’s great, but first I want to show you my island. I’ve lived here many years, so I’ve done a few things to it.” He shows them the grove of fruit trees that he’s planted from the seeds of fruits that have washed ashore. He shows them his house, a little shack, which he’s built and lived in. He takes them to another shed and says, “This is my synagogue. This is where I pray.”

  One of the guys looks around and sees that there’s another shed in the distance. He says, “What’s that over there?”

  He says, “That’s the other synagogue. I don’t go there.”

  RICHARD LEVINE

  Richard Levine was born in Brooklyn (a hotbed of talent for joke tellers of this generation). He is semiretired from his business of printing forms and labels for clinical drug studies for the pharmaceutical industry. He has permanently relocated from New Jersey to West Palm Beach, Florida.

  Directions

  A woman calls up her friend. She says, “Becky, I understand you got a new apartment.”

  Becky says, “I do. I got a pretty apartment. Why don’t you come visit?”

  “I’d love to visit, but I don’t know where you live. You gotta give me directions.”

  “I live on 1486 Eighty-sixth Street. You’ll take the train, get off at Eighty-sixth Street. You’ll see a big apartment complex, 1486. Outside, you’ll see a double door. With your right elbow, press down the handle from the door, push open the door, and you’ll be in what we call a vestibule.

  “In the vestibule’s a list of bells. I’m apartment 4B. With the left elbow, press 4B; it’ll ring upstairs. As soon as I hear the ring, I’ll buzz you.

  “When you hear the buzz, with your right elbow press on the inside of the door, push open the door, go straight ahead to the elevator, and with the left elbow press UP.

  “You’ll get in the elevator; with the right elbow press 4 for the fourth floor. The door will open up; you’ll go straight into my apartment, 4B.

  “You’ll ring the doorbell with the right elbow. Give it a couple of knocks with the left elbow; I’ll answer the
door. You’ll come in; we’ll have coffee.”

  Her friend interrupts, fed up. “What kind of directions are these, with the elbow? The left elbow, the right elbow. What’s with the elbow?”

  Becky says, “What? You’re coming empty-handed?”

  LAWRENCE GOLDBERG

  Lawrence Goldberg was born in Detroit and learned most of his favorite jokes from his aunt, who frequently visited his family’s apartment with new material.

  Two Beggars in Rome

  Two beggars were sitting outside the Tivoli fountain in Rome. One beggar had his hat in front of him, decorated with a crucifix. The other had his hat in front of him, his with a Star of David.

  People are walking by, and they’re all putting their donations into the hat with the crucifix.

  A priest walks by, and he sees the two of them sitting there, and he says, “My good man, this is a Catholic city. No one’s going to put money in a hat with a Star of David! As a matter of fact, most Catholics and Christians in this city will probably donate extra to the hat with the crucifix.”

  The beggar with the Star of David turns to the other and says, “Moshe, look who’s trying to tell the Cohen brothers about marketing!”