three jews, talking: hal linden, bernie kopell, and me

Three Jews at Theater at St. Clement’s (photo by Catrina Honadle)

As soon as I heard that Hal Linden and Bernie Kopell were coming to town to star in a new play, Two Jews, Talking, I knew that I not only had to see it but had to interview them as well. During the pandemic, I had rewatched every episode of Barney Miller, and I had even written a chapter about the show’s New York City legacy for a project that still may or may not happen.

I also watched The Love Boat and kept seeing Kopell pop up in various series; he has more than a hundred television appearances under his belt, from The Jack Benny Program, The Flying Nun, and Night Gallery to Arrested Development, Better Things, and Silicon Valley.

I immediately contacted Dan, the press rep, and he said a phoner was possible. I pushed for Zoom. When I mentioned that my angle would be “Three Jews, Talking,” he offered an in-person interview, one of the only ones they would be doing that way. I was ecstatic; I literally jumped for joy in my apartment.

My wife and I saw the second preview of the show, which is running Friday to Sunday through October 23 at the Theatre at St. Clement’s — yes, a church. I then began nervously preparing, as questions and ideas flowed through my head nonstop.

The date and time of the interview kept changing, which only made me more anxious. When the day finally arrived, I had forgotten that the time had been moved up a half hour, so I suddenly found myself in a mad rush.

I hurry to my local Jewish bagel place, Daniel’s, and pick up some rugelach. (Hey, my mother taught me to never show up empty-handed.) I grab a cab — and am soon stuck in ultraheavy midtown traffic. I’m going all meshuga.

Hal Linden and Bernie Kopell star in new play, Two Jews, Talking (photo by Russ Rowland)

I jump out of the taxi and run, in my sports jacket despite the heat, through the Theater District to St. Clement’s, on Forty-Sixth between Ninth and Tenth, and am, baruch Hashem, only a few minutes late. I’m hot and sweaty and breathing hard, so stage manager Catrina Honadle — who is also Kopell’s wife of twenty-five years and the mother of their two children — assures me it’s all fine. Through a dressing room door I see Bernie, who looks up at me and says, “Calm down, young man.”

I’m so embarrassed.

Next I have to take a Covid test. I swab each nostril ten times.

I ask to use the restroom, and Honadle points me in that direction.

On the way I pass by Linden, who is relaxing on a couch, legs spread out across the floor, as he checks his cellphone.

I wipe myself down, then apologize to him for my franticness. He tells me not to worry about it, to take it easy.

After a few tense moments, I am cleared to interview Linden and Kopell in person, sans masks. I hand Linden the box of rugelach. He smiles and opens it up, searching for just the right piece.

“There’s chocolate and some kind of fruit, I’m not sure what,” I explain, still a little out of breath.

We all sit down in chairs, me facing the two of them, ample distance between us. I set down two phones to record, just in case one doesn’t work. (I exist in a constant state of shpilkes.)

And we’re off.

Bernie Kopell and Hal Linden discuss life, love, and loss in Two Jews, Talking (photo by Russ Rowland)

I say, “Okay, so we’re Hal from the Bronx, Bernie from Brooklyn, Mark from Brooklyn — Flatbush — and we’re three New York Jews sitting, talking in a church.”

For the next hour, I’m in seventh heaven, plotzing. I’m not sure the interview could have gone any better. We’re sharing stories about Nathan’s, the Brooklyn Dodgers, poker, an X-rated episode of Barney Miller, The Love Boat, going to shul, and their new play. They are refreshingly, brutally honest, a pair of mensches.

There’s a serendipitous flow to the talk that feels natural. Not merely name-dropping, they speak their mind about many of the actors and directors they’ve worked with over the years, from Gavin MacLeod, Eva Marie Saint, Norman Jewison, Harvey Korman, and Judy Holliday to Maurice Schwartz, Shelley Winters, Danny Kaye, Jerome Robbins, and Ethel Merman.

(A few days later, my wife and I went to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden; when I walked down Celebrity Path, I stepped over plaques dedicated to some of the greatest Brooklynites ever, many of whom had come up in the interview, including Winters, Kaye, Mel Brooks, Zero Mostel, Mary Tyler Moore, Arthur Miller, Sandy Koufax — and Bernie Kopell himself.)

Bernie Kopell is honored with a plaque on Celebrity Path at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

And they hold nothing back. What have they got to lose? As Bernie explains at one point, “I keep saying, if you don’t fuck up too badly, they let you continue.”

I could have stayed for hours, but finally it was time to go; we probably all needed naps. Then I did something I’ve never done before at an interview: I asked if I could take a picture with them. They happily obliged, and Catrina used my camera to capture the shot.

I practically floated out of the theater and back out into the nasty city heat, but all I could feel was elation, an all-pervasive simcha.

Later that day, I got an email from Dan saying that Hal and Bernie wanted to thank me for the “arugula” (autocorrect?) and that “they were very impressed with you and liked you a lot.”

I guess I didn’t fuck up too badly.

[PS: Click below to read the full interview.]

THREE JEWS, TALKING: HAL LINDEN, BERNIE KOPELL, AND ME