Mr. Pinski is zealous in his interests in literature, drama, socialism, and Zionism. Drama is to him an interpretation of life, and a guide and leader, as were the words of the old poets and prophets. "The dramatic technique," says he, "changes with each plot, as each plot brings with it its own technique. One thing, however, must be common to all the different forms of the dramatic technique--avoidance of tediousness."
Mr. Pinski has written a goodly number of plays, most of which are on Yiddish themes. _Forgotten Souls_, _The Stranger_, _Sufferings_, _The Treasure_, _The Phonograph_, and _A Dollar_ may be mentioned. Most of his plays have been produced many times; _The Stranger_ played the third season in Moscow.
"I wrote _A Dollar_," says he, "in the summer of 1913, when I was hard pressed financially. I relieved myself of my feelings by a hearty laugh at the almighty dollar and the race for it. Just as I did many summers before, in 1906, when I entertained myself by ridiculing the mad money joy in the bigger comedy, _The Treasure_."
The Characters are given in the order of their appearance.
THE COMEDIAN THE VILLAIN THE TRAGEDIAN ACTOR _who plays_ "OLD MAN" _rôle_ THE HEROINE THE INGENUE ACTRESS _who plays_ "OLD WOMAN" _rôle_ THE STRANGER
_A cross-roads at the edge of a forest. One road extends from left to right; the other crosses the first diagonally, disappearing into the forest. The roadside is bordered with grass. On the right, at the crossing, stands a sign-post, to which are nailed two boards, giving directions and distances._
_The afternoon of a summer day. A troupe of stranded strolling players enters from the left. They are ragged and weary. The_ COMEDIAN _walks first, holding a valise in each hand, followed by the_ VILLAIN _carrying over his arms two huge bundles wrapped in bed-sheets. Immediately behind these the_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD MAN" _carrying together a large, heavy trunk_.
COMEDIAN. [_Stepping toward the sign-post, reading the directions on the boards, and explaining to the approaching fellow-actors._] That way [_pointing to right and swinging the valise to indicate the direction_] is thirty miles. This way [_pointing to left_] is forty-five--and that way it is thirty-six. Now choose for yourself the town that you'll never reach to-day. The nearest way for us is back to where we came from, whence we were escorted with the most splendid catcalls that ever crowned our histrionic successes.