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She looked at him without speaking, her long blonde hair half-obscuring her face; peering outfrom inside the veil of Clairol and dirt. He knew he could never deny thisold man, no matter what he asked, and in the silence he heard a voice say: “ No!” And it was his own. He was shooting a Western for CBS. From that job hegot into working minstrel shows.

They knew I was no great lover ofthe clan, and they were terrified I would make a scene, depart from protocol in a way that wouldhumiliate them in front of friends and relatives. to the Moose lodge in Painesville, a townfamed for its anti-Semitism—but when the crunch came down, my old man was out on his ass. “Here you go, Phil,” I’d say. They hadn't made hot fudge likeTHE ESSENTIAL ELLISON 555that in many years.