Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, May 6, 1994 TAG: 9405070008
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: EXTRA1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: FRAZIER MOORE ASSOCIATED PRESS
DATELINE: NEW YORK LENGTH: Medium
At age 71. After more than 60 years in show business.
Go figure.
Of course, there are many reasons to watch ``Picket Fences'' (which airs at 10 p.m. Fridays on WDBJ-Channel 7), maybe as many reasons as there are citizens of Rome, Wis., the series' anything-can-happen-here hometown.
But thanks to Finkel's cagey old counselor, ``Fences'' is a pro-bono blast.
Who is this guy? Jockeying between comic bluster and soul-stirring dignity in the twinkle of an eye - usually, his own - Wambaugh tells tasteless jokes at funerals and distributes business cards that read ``Reasonable doubt for a reasonable fee,'' yet he's a litigious mensch for the put-upon and, by the way, a devoutly religious man.
``You see,'' Wambaugh offered in his own defense when his exasperated rabbi tried to drum him out of the synagogue earlier this season, ``I'm a character! I embarrass MYSELF! But I would NEVER embarrass my God or my faith.''
Spend a few minutes with Fyvush Finkel, and you discover that here, too, is a man of wonderful expanse.
``On every contract that I have had all my life is that I don't appear on the High Holy Days,'' he says, hoisting his formidable eyebrows to vanquish any doubt. ``Never!''
On the other hand, when he took his comic sketches to all those Catskills resorts long ago, he showed his audience no mercy. ``They SCREAMED!''
Now white-haired and rabbinical-looking in his vest and gray suit, Finkel remains absorbingly funny. He says he was born that way.
``Jewish people in general have a very good sense of humor,'' he notes, his eyes merry crescents. Then, his brows descend like storm clouds for a somber postscript: ``Ninety-nine percent of their humor is based on tragedy.''
Take a time-honored subject of Jewish humor: the waiter.
``He's an old-timer. He works hard all day. He's flatflooted. He don't hear well.
``So now he's scratching himself while he waits for the order. The customer says, `Hemorrhoids?' The waiter says, `I only serve what's on the menu.'
``Funny, right? But it's also tragic. He's hurting inside. So to speak.''
The Brooklyn-born Finkel was on stage before his 10th birthday, yet he was middle-aged before he ever appeared in an English-language play. After 40 years, he made his switch from the fading Yiddish theater to mainstream show business in ``Fiddler On the Roof,'' with which he toured for a dozen years.
He played the shopkeeper in the off-Broadway musical ``Little Shop of Horrors'' for its entire five-year run.
Then, four years ago, he scored a small role as a lawyer in the film ``Q&A.'' Happening to see it, David E. Kelley knew he'd found the right man for a series he would introduce come fall 1992.
``David Kelley,'' Finkel trumpets, ``he can write a good script! He can write a good check! He's a very good writer!
``Great artists, there,'' Finkel carries on. ``[Series star] Tom Skerritt - a great actor and such a nice man. The whole cast - beautiful people, every one of them. It's the happiest set in America, I think.''
As he speaks, Finkel is 3,000 miles from his happy soundstage, and from the hotel suite he and Trudi, his wife of 47 years, share while the show is in production. They are back home from California for a visit and, combining business with pleasure, have been sharing lunch with a reporter at Manhattan's Second Avenue Deli, which Finkel salutes as his favorite restaurant.
Napkin tucked at his throat, he is digging into his deli omelet (``salami, pastrami, tongue, all that stuff'') as he continues to savor his new-found success.
``It's a miracle to have this happen to you,'' he says. ``In California, they're used to film people around. And yet, when we go to the mall to see a movie, they're holding court with me.''
``He lets them kiss him!'' Trudi says.
``It's a brand-new life, completely brand-new. But I live the same way,'' he hastens to add. ``I just smoke a better cigar.''
No wonder. Wambaugh, too, happens to enjoy the occasional stogie, and Finkel requests only the finest as props for those scenes.
``And then, naturally, you keep a handful, what the hell,'' Finkel says with a laugh.
An open-and-shut case of delight.
by CNB