The Immigrant - A New American Musical

Act I

In 1909, Haskell Harelik, a young Russian-Jewish man, steps out of steerage into the port city of Galveston, Texas. Speaking no English, he wrangles together a wheelbarrow and a bunch of bananas and heads north into the great interior ("The Stars"). When he reaches the tiny rural community of Hamilton, deep in the heart of Texas, he can go no farther. Exhaustion drops him in the front yard of Milton and Ima Perry. Milton is the town banker; Ima, his devout Calvary Baptist wife. Acting with Christian charity, Ima convinces her husband to give Haskell a room for the night. When she finds out Haskell is a Jew, she has second thoughts ("A Stranger Here").

Six weeks later, the young immigrant is still in their home, peddling his bananas around the county, studying his English primer, paying Mr. Perry ten cents a night for the room ("Simply Free"). (It was their son Charlie's room; their son long gone and unheard from.) Mr. Perry summons Haskell to his office to give him his walking papers, but he gets caught up in Haskell's innocence and excitement about this "new land," and ends up loaning him money for a new horse and wagon ("Changes"). Haskell quickly prospers and Mr. Perry keeps giving him assistance against his better judgement. Meanwhile it has been revealed that Haskell has indeed been sending money to his wife, Leah, in Russia ("Travel Light").

When Ima finds out that a group of boys from town have attacked Haskell on the road, her view of what she considered her good Christian community is shaken ("Keep Him Safe"). Milton feels he's made himself a target in the town by helping Haskell. He sets Haskell up in a new grocery store ("Changes - Reprise") and when Leah (still a secret from the Perry's), arrives from Russia, small and frightened, Milton and Ima both feel taken advantage of.

Haskell and Leah have moved into the attic above the grocery. Haskell has made a home for himself in Hamilton, but what feels like freedom and promise to Haskell feels like a life of isolation to Leah ("I Don't Want It"). Haskell tries to comfort her, but she seems inconsolable ("The Stars - Finale Act I").

Act II

Act II opens with Ima puttering around her kitchen, singing a hymn ("Take the Comforting Hand (Hymn)"). Leah is nine months pregnant with her first child, unhappy and alone. Haskell sends Leah to visit Ima. Ima doesn't know what to do with this foreign child. As Leah helps Ima prepare supper, they discover they a number of superstitions in common ("Padadooly"). Leah's need for a mother and Ima's need for child bring them together ("The Stars - Leah").

The Harelik family grows. Though Haskell and Milton never really settled their differences, a kind of father-son amity grows between them. The fact that Haskell's not a Christian appeals to the skeptical Milton, who's constantly harassed by Ima to get baptized "before it's too late." To Milton's obvious pleasure, three "unbaptized Texans" are born to the Harelik's in quick succession and the third is named for Milton ("The Sun Comes Up").

In 1939, Leah prepares a Sabbath dinner for the two couples ("Candlesticks/Shabbos"). The rumblings of war are heard from Europe and Haskell feels the pain and guilt of having left his people behind. Leah and Ima have become like sisters, but Haskell and Milton, who's a firm isolationist, quarrel -- at first about politics, but then about keeping a family together and raising sons. Haskell inadvertently insults Milton, who storms out of the house, never to return ("Where Would You Be?").

At the women's insistence, Haskell visits Milton some months later and finds him immobilized by a stroke. With difficulty, Haskell thanks Milton for saving his life ("No Place to Go"). Milton doesn't respond. Only after Haskell and Leah leave does he mumble "goodbye."

After Milton dies unbaptized, Ima is desolate. She runs to Leah's arms for comfort ("Take The Comforting Hand of Jesus"). Leah fears for her three sons, all of whom are fighting in the War. Haskell brings home a young sapling to plant in hope of their salvation. The story ends as Haskell, Ima, and Leah gather around the young tree, pressing their hopes and their faith into its new leaves, knowing it will outlive them all ("The Stars - Finale Act II").

A Note from the Bookwriter
by Mark Harelik

This is the story of my grandparents, young Russian Jews fleeing the pogroms of eastern Europe, in 1909.

Having come to America's southern shores on the wave of the Galveston Plan, my grandparents Harelik (originally pronounced Gorehlik) settled in a small town in central Texas where full religious observance was difficult. Through the years, they raised three sons and entered the American community. All outward signs of the shtetl life they left behind were gone.

For the family, however, the experiences of my grandparents' past lives were daily stories that were passed around the dinner table. And for me, the hero of this quotidian legend was my grandfather Haskell. I could almost picture him—the young Jew forced to carry his life in his pocket—his religion, his aspirations, his search for safety and stability, and (strangely the most vivid image of all) me. I could picture myself in his pocket. He was bringing my life to this place - this great open space, this unimaginable future that I live in now.

The day I sat down to write this story, I had been on the phone with my dad. He'd taken my elderly grandfather Haskell on their weekly drive around town, which took all of 20 minutes, maybe. They drove by the clothing store founded in 1911 on the town square. "There's your store, Pop." "My what?" "Your store—Look, see that sign up there? Haskell Harelik—it's your name." "My name? My name...?"

He had forgotten his name. He had forgotten his journey, his life, his story. Lost. Now I reach into my own pocket, and there he is—my great American hero, who traveled so far to live a simple life, raise a family, plant the seeds of my future. We bear these seeds from the faded pockets of our fathers and mothers. We are them, in an unseeable, ungraspable way. And by our single, potent glance back, their invisible lives are made worthy and meaningful and immortal. And in the end, when even memory is gone, that which remains lives only in the telling. I must tell you this story, for it's all that remains of a good man's life, and all that's immortal in me.

A deeply satisfying new musical, with much on its mind about history, humanity, man and God and the American Dream, is beckoning to theatergoers with a taste for rich characters in a tale that touches the heart, glows with humor and soothes the ear….The pleasure of the show's music...is that it is always at the service of its strong characters....Among the songs, "The Stars," which opens the evening, well merits its three reprises.

— Lawrence Van Gelder, The New York Times

[The Immigrant] features a score of great artfulness….Verging on the operatic in terms of both its feverish emotions and beguiling score, this is a work that makes the familiar at once fresh and poignant….The Immigrant...is a chamber musical for just four characters and four musicians....But it has a universal reach. And its haunting score—so seamlessly woven into the script it sounds like an extension of speech—wholly avoids cliches, using echoes of Hebraic prayers and Baptist hymns to supply a perfect elegiac mix of sounds from both the old world and new.

— Hedy Weiss, Chicago Sun Times

…[S]ome songs...are beautiful enough to make an audience catch its breath….[T]he best of all the songs is "The Stars."...The melody echoes a Jewish folk song. It falls on the ear like a hymn, yet it suits the theatrical moment—strong, handsome, and bright as diamonds.

— M.S. Mason, The Christian Science Monitor

The Immigrant, a sweeping adaptation of Mark Harelik's acclaimed 1985 play...is a buoyant, heartbreaking achievement....The light, complicated score...blends easily into the action and accentuates the most powerful moments.

— John Moore, Denver Post

The score effectively magnifies the story's emotions. Alper handsomely orchestrates his score...Sarah Knapp's lyrics are organic, succinct....Altogether, The Immigrant ably and affectionately delivers the goods.

— Michael Sommers, Newark Star-Ledger

[G]reat music....stretching the boundaries without ever losing the focus of its book or characters....It was easily the best thing we saw in New York this year.

— Bill Lloyd, Producer Stage & Screen, BBC Radio 3

In making The Immigrant sing, composer Steven M. Alper and lyricist Sarah Knapp....make it clear that the complexities of Stephen Sondheim and composer-lyricists of his ilk have influenced them. Appropriately, they mix the sounds of music from Haskell and Leah's culture with what [Milton] and Ima might have heard on the radio in the quiet of a Texas night...."[The] Stars" is a beautiful anthem of hope and faith.

— Christine Dolen, Miami Herald

[T]here is a hell of a lot of fresh air blowing through the theatre....Sarah Knapp...has shaped and structured her songs with truly astonishing maturity. Composer Steven M. Alper matches this sophistication with melodies, arrangements and orchestration (for a band configured to evoke a Klesmer sensibility, even when playing in the Western sandbox) that add musical wit and heart to the verbal. Ms. Knapp...stays afloat on freshness of imagery, originality of idea and clarity of storytelling....Mr. Alper…clearly has the instinct for mainstream vocabulary—the melodies riding the accompaniments are direct, with high profiles and hooky title lines, and likewise uncongested harmonies implied. Alper is too sure a hand to be inaccessible—this is a lovely score.
[A] turning point and breakthrough for what the small musical can do.

— David Spencer, AisleSay

[D]elightful, charming, uplifting and emotionally moving....Bravo! Bravo! To Sarah Knapp (lyrics), Steven Alper (music).

— Masha Leon, The Jewish Forward

The Immigrant is stunning and moving. Don't go expecting a typical musical comedy; instead be prepared to be gripped emotionally and touched unbelievably.

— Chris Curcio, KBAQ Phoenix

Everything a musical should be!

— The Wall Street Journal/Zagat