Three Encounters by Jacqueline Gmach

Three Encounters

By Jacqueline Gmach

MY ENCOUNTER WITH LEONARD NIMOY
The Streisand Festival of New Jewish Plays 

I was at my desk, deep in work for the San Diego Jewish Book Fair—an annual, highly successful event that spans ten days, bringing together authors to present their works on the theme of Judaism. 

The phone rang. 

"Am I speaking with the Lawrence Family Jewish Community Center?" 

"Yes, Sir. This is it. How can I help you?" 

"I’d like to know about the Streisand Festival of New Jewish Plays that you run at the JCC. Can you tell me more about it?" 

"Certainly, Sir," I replied and launched into a detailed explanation: the dates, the structure of the event, and how we develop stage readings for the festival. 

"Great! I’d like to participate as a reader." 

"Thank you. Could you provide your name so we can follow up with a proposal?" 

The voice responded clearly: 

"Leonard Nimoy." 

"I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that." 

"Leonard Nimoy," the voice repeated. 

"Pardon me, Sir. Could you spell it for me?" 

"Leonard Nimoy." 

"Yes, but the spelling will help." 

"Have you heard of Dr. Spock?" 

"No, Sir, I haven’t." 

"And Star Trek?" 

"No, Sir, I’m sorry." 

The phone call ended abruptly. 

Later that day, I shared the interaction with my director, Lyly. Frustration had been simmering since the abrupt end of the call. 

"Who was that?" Lyly asked. 

"A Dr. Spock, I think. His name was Leonard Nimoy, and he wanted to participate as a reader at our festival." 

"Oh my G’d, you… you deserve to be fired!" Lyly exclaimed. 

"Why? Because I don’t know Mr. Spock?" I replied, now feeling both frustrated and defensive. 

"Sorry, sorry. But why did you hire a French-educated person to run a national Jewish cultural event?" 

Lyly left my office, and I sat in silence for the rest of the day. 

Three years later, Leonard Nimoy published Shekhina, a stunning book of photographs featuring his wife as a representation of the Shekhina—the feminine embodiment of G’d’s presence in the world. 

I managed to track down his phone number and called. 

"Hello, Mr. Leonard Nimoy."
Immediately, he recognized my voice, his tone surprised and faintly mocked. 

"You’re the person who answered my call a few years ago, aren’t you?"
I was stunned that he could still identify with me by my voice—or perhaps my accent. 

"Please, don’t hang up!" I said quickly. "This is an invitation to participate in our theater program—as a reader, as a director, in any capacity you’d like. Please come and share Shekhina with us. It would be an honor." 

Before I could express my apologies for our initial phone call, Leonard Nimoy accepted. 

He came. His presentation was unforgettable. 

MY ENCOUNTER WITH KIRK DOUGLAS (2011) AT THE AMERICAN JEWISH UNIVERSITY

I attended a presentation by Kirk Douglas about his memoir, and it was absolutely fascinating. 

During the book signing, I approached the table where Mr. Douglas was seated. I introduced myself: 

"My name is Jacqueline, and I am the director of the San Diego Jewish Book Fair. I would like to invite you to present your memoir at our Jewish Community Center. It would truly be an honor if you could consider this invitation." 

Before I could finish, he interrupted me, reacting to my accent. 

"My name is not Kurk Dououglas," he said, emphasizing his name with a distinctly American accent. "My name is Kirk Douglas." 

I quickly replied, "I’m sorry, sir. But do you know how many people in Europe call you Kurk Dououglas? Millions! I can assure you, only a 'few' say it differently." 

He paused, then turned to his assistant—possibly his publisher—and, with a commanding voice, said: 

"I like this girl. I want to go to the book fair." 

Then, addressing me directly, he added: 

"I like what you said. However, I am still Kirk Douglas. I will be there." 

Grateful and thrilled, I responded: 

"We are honored to have you as one of our speakers and authors." 

I must add with modesty that, by its 10th anniversary, the San Diego Jewish Book Fair was recognized as the best Book Fair in the country. 

Thank you, Mr. Douglas, for being a part of our journey. 

MY ENCOUNTER WITH ARTHUR MILLER  AT THE SAN DIEGO JEWISH BOOK FAIR

Sir Daniel Michael Blake Day-Lewis (born April 29, 1957) is often described as one of the greatest actors in cinematic history. He has received numerous accolades, including three Academy Awards, four BAFTAs, three Screen Actors Guild Awards, and two Golden Globes. In 2014, he was knighted for his contributions to drama. 

His wife, Rebecca Augusta Miller (born September 15, 1962), is an acclaimed filmmaker and novelist. She has written and directed films such as Angela (1995), Personal Velocity (2002), The Ballad of Jack and Rose (2005), The Private Lives of Pippa Lee (2009), and Maggie’s Plan (2015). She is also the daughter of legendary playwright Arthur Miller. 

Arthur Asher Miller (October 17, 1915 – February 10, 2005) was one of the most influential American playwrights of the 20th century. His works, including All My Sons (1947), Death of a Salesman (1949), The Crucible (1953), and A View from the Bridge (1955), are considered masterpieces. He also wrote the screenplay for The Misfits (1961). 

July/August 20XX 

Daniel Day-Lewis! His presence at the San Diego Jewish Book Fair would be a triumph. The theater would be packed. He should be the keynote speaker—or better yet, the closing speaker. The entire community would attend. But how? 

I had no direct contacts. I could reach out to his publisher, but avoiding an honorarium would be ideal. Could he possibly come for free? That was wishful thinking. 

Then, a breakthrough—I discovered that Daniel Day-Lewis was Arthur Miller’s son-in-law. Perhaps a different approach could work. 

A deeper search led me to a phone number. Arthur Miller’s phone number. 

I hesitated. Then, as always, my personal mantra kicked in: Let’s do it! 

I dialed. 

“Hello.” 

“Mr. Miller?” 

“Yes. How can I help you?” 

“My name is Jackie Gmach, Director of the San Diego Jewish Book Fair.” 

“Yes… How did you get my number?” 

“I found it,” I said, my tone respectful but unwavering. 

A pause. 

“I’d like to invite Mr. Daniel Day-Lewis to speak at our event.” 

“He’s not here.” 

Then, unexpectedly, I heard the faint cry of a baby. 

“Excuse me, sir… is that a baby crying?” 

“Yes, my grandson. He’s six months old.” 

Without thinking, I softened. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry to interrupt. Please, take care of him. I can call back another time…” 

Arthur Miller cut me off. 

“What did you just say?” 

His voice had changed. Warmer, almost moved. 

“You want me to take care of my grandson?” he repeated. “That’s more than lovely. That’s so touching.” 

I could hear it in his voice—appreciation. He wasn’t just a literary giant to me. In that moment, he was simply a grandfather. 

“You see me as a grandpa,” he said, “not just a celebrity, not just a messenger.” 

A pause. Then, to my surprise: 

“Give me your number. I’ll be the one calling you tomorrow.” 

And he did. 

The next day, Arthur Miller called me back, just as he had promised. 

Daniel Day-Lewis, unfortunately, had prior professional commitments and was unable to attend the book fair. 

But that brief, unexpected conversation with Arthur Miller? 

That was the true gift.