"Gypsies of New Rochelle" a novel by Ivan Jenson:

In the Aldridge family, nothing’s off limits—no dream is too big, no achievement is unreachable, and there are no rules to hold anyone back. It’s 1980 in New Rochelle, New York, and seventeen-year-old Shawn, the baby of the family, is a lost soul trying to find his own way in the grit and grime of nearby New York. As the rest of the family focuses on making his violin prodigy sister famous and rescuing their cousin from a cult, Shawn dates not one, but two girls—one a Times Square peep show dancer and the other a virginal neighborhood girl. The series of mishaps and mayhem leading up to his sister’s Carnegie Hall concert will leave you gasping, laughing, and crying through the very last action-packed line. Comical, whimsical, nostalgic, and raw, Gypsies of New Rochelle highlights the well-meaning, but misguided Aldridge family, a dumpster-diving band of twentieth-century gypsies.

Author Bio:
Ivan Jenson, a celebrated pop artist of New York City, moved to Grand Rapids, Michigan, where he experienced success as a published poet and novelist. Ivan has close to six hundred poems published internationally, online and in print, as well as a book of poems and several successful novels including Marketing Mia, Dead Artist, Erotic Rights, and Seeing Soriah. Gypsies of New Rochelle is a fictional memoir loosely based on Jenson’s own family who he calls the “original gypsies of New Rochelle”.

Link to Gypsies of New Rochelle on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Gypsies-New-Rochelle-Ivan-Jenson-ebook/dp/B06Y4M2LPN/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1492529419&sr=8-1&keywords=Ivan+Jenson

Theater Musings

An Odd Episode – The Critic Speaks

by

Gary Beck

353 E. 83st, 6l

New York, NY 10028

212 481-8220

garycbeck@yahoo.com

www.garycbeck.com

www.facebook.comAuthorGaryBeck

I had been immersed day and night in our forthcoming production of Lysistrata, which in the seventh year of our company, Sidewalks Theater, was showing signs of being our first hit show. About three or four late nights a week, around 1:00 a.m., I kept getting phone calls from a major drama critic, who drunkenly talked to me like an old acquaintance. He had confused me with the son of Julian Beck, who had a similar name to mine. No matter how many times I insisted I wasn’t he, the calls continued with crying, moaning about the torments his Asian girlfriend put him through and other pathetic laments.

Finally, in disgust one night, I said:

“You’ve spilled your guts to me over and over. Now I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Review my show.”

“I only do Broadway productions.”

“Did I say that to you when you kept calling?”

The discussion went back and forth and he finally said:

“Alright. I’ll come, if you send a limousine for me.”

Part of me wanted to tell the swine to piss off, but a selfish part recognized how good a review could be for my growing company. So I agreed. Opening night he arrived to the surprise of audience members who recognized him, as well as a friend who worked at the culture desk of a major newspaper. At intermission, she sent a wondering note backstage informing me that he stayed awake for the entire first act, laughed and applauded, a unique occurrence for a critic noted for sleeping through shows.

He came backstage after the show and made some nice comments to some of the actors, another unique occurrence according to my friend. Then he asked me to send one of the actresses home with him and he pointed her out. I told him I couldn’t do that. When he asked: ‘Couldn’t or wouldn’t?’ I replied: ‘Both’. He left in a snit.

We got the paper with his review later that night and he trashed the show. His particular vitriol was for my direction, acting and co-translation. However he put out enough venom for the set, lighting, costumes and the other actors that if we were a Broadway show we would have closed that night. Fortunately, his vicious assault didn’t seem to influence our audiences. We sold out every performance at our 125 seat theater, with standees at every show and turned away 40-50 requests for tickets for the weekend shows. So despite the fury of the thwarted critic, we had our first hit show, which we planned to move to a legitimate 299 seat theater. But that’s for another musing. I didn’t get any more phone calls from the noted critic of the American theater.