Page 256 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text

Reminiscences

Don Dudley arranged for him to have a show in Vroman’s
bookstore, and then Hilda’s friend Gertrude Papermaster Buckman,
who was the librarian at Wilshire Boulevard Temple, arranged a small
show there. He had a lot of pleasure from that. At the group show at
the old county museum, we went with him to the opening. His
subject matter was often suggested by the piece of wood or stone
itself. We were always looking for pieces of wood for him. In the
desert there was a kind of wood with a different color core, a sort of
ironwood, and we brought back a piece for him. And Max, whenever
an avocado branch was about to be lopped off, would save it and dry
it for him. And, of course, Max would give him pieces from the
woodturning shop, some of them kiln-dried. Stones were just hit and
miss. The first stones I remember him carving were long ago, on
Figueroa: he had a flat stone near the front door, with the house
number, 7717, carved on it, and, for some reason, a stone carved to
look like a loaf of rye bread.
And we took him to exhibitions of sculpture; painting did not
interest him as much. Once, when we took him to the exhibition of
Lipschitz at UCLA, he walked around those big overblown bronzes
and said, “I don’t see much lip, but I see the schitz.” He did have
some nice books of sculpture, and he did express envy of men who
had training in art. I do feel that he could have done very fine work,
because he had the ability to stick to things, as well as a lot of
imagination and humor.
He always hated and feared police: “Cossacks” he called them. But
one day in the fifties he was driving up Pacific Coast Highway to visit
his friend Jon Raymond in Topanga. Seeing a “fine stone” on the
shoulder of the road, he pulled over to dig it up. As he tugged at it,
he discovered it was larger and more deeply embedded in the ground
than it had appeared. Suddenly a Highway Patrol car pulled up and
two officers approached him. He told me later he was sure they were
going to arrest him. But the two “American-looking boys” instead
asked, “Can we help you, Pop?” They dug out the stone, dragged it to
his car, and stowed it away. I wish I could recall which sculpture
came out of it! Later he sent a check for $100 to the “U.S.
Government” to show his appreciation for being in such a wonderful

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