All My Yesterdays
by Edward G. Robinson
As a die-hard Edward G. Robinson fan, I was thrilled to get my hands on his autobiography, All My Yesterdays. I had been told prior to reading it that Eddie wrote it in the final months of his illness, and in fact, didn’t live to finish it. His friend and coauthor Leonard Spigelgass was tasked with putting together his dictation notes, Eddie’s outlines, and final interviews they conducted together that covered topics from margarine to homosexuality. Eddie’s story came to an abrupt end, and the final chapters were written by Leonard, including his devastation after his friend’s death.
Even without the tragic and morbid end, it still had an overwhelming tone of sadness riddled throughout the pages. Eddie was looking back on his life realizing what was important and what was not. He glorified his grandmother (but why not?) and described an incredible immigration story. He was still angry and terribly hurt about his gray-listing during the 1950s, and there was quite a bit of detail about his unfair treatment. His second marriage was barely mentioned, and he felt guilt, despair, and regret about his first wife’s mental illness.
This is not a feel-good memoir like Fred Astaire’s or Tony Bennett’s. This is not a kiss-and-tell accounting like Shelley Winters’s. This is a sick man looking back at his life, in pain, and occasionally rewatching his old movies on late night television. All My Yesterdays is about an immigrant who came to America without speaking English and became a tough-guy icon, when his real personality was soft-spoken, cultured, and gentle. Fans thought he actually was a gangster; when he knocked on one woman’s house, she screamed for her husband, afraid that “Little Caesar” was going to attack her.
In my favorite section, Eddie talks about entertaining the troops during WWII. He was thrilled to speak to the brave men, but when he expressed his gratitude to their service in his normal speaking voice, he was greeted with glares, silence, and sometimes booing. He learned that they wanted “Little Caesar”, not Edward G. Robinson. He wrote out a script, memorized it, and the crowd went wild for his performance. “This is the kid himself talking – Little Caesar. Remember? You’d better remember, because anybody who don’t will find himself at the bottom of the East River with his feet in a cake of cement! I ain’t kidding, neither.” He didn’t like it, for all he really wanted to do was thank them for risking their necks. When it was time to close his skit, he ended with his true sentiment:
“I know a little bit about gangsters. I’ve played many of them. Remember how Little Caesar wound up? In the gutter with a bellyful of lead. That’s how all the Little Caesars are going to end up in this picture that’s being shot all over the world. Says who? Says you. This is the most privileged moment of my life, the opportunity to be here with you. I have seen the men who are defeating Hitler. I thank you, gentlemen, from the bottom of my heart.”
Be sure to check out Hot Toasty Rag's page honoring Edward G. Robinson's movies here!
Even without the tragic and morbid end, it still had an overwhelming tone of sadness riddled throughout the pages. Eddie was looking back on his life realizing what was important and what was not. He glorified his grandmother (but why not?) and described an incredible immigration story. He was still angry and terribly hurt about his gray-listing during the 1950s, and there was quite a bit of detail about his unfair treatment. His second marriage was barely mentioned, and he felt guilt, despair, and regret about his first wife’s mental illness.
This is not a feel-good memoir like Fred Astaire’s or Tony Bennett’s. This is not a kiss-and-tell accounting like Shelley Winters’s. This is a sick man looking back at his life, in pain, and occasionally rewatching his old movies on late night television. All My Yesterdays is about an immigrant who came to America without speaking English and became a tough-guy icon, when his real personality was soft-spoken, cultured, and gentle. Fans thought he actually was a gangster; when he knocked on one woman’s house, she screamed for her husband, afraid that “Little Caesar” was going to attack her.
In my favorite section, Eddie talks about entertaining the troops during WWII. He was thrilled to speak to the brave men, but when he expressed his gratitude to their service in his normal speaking voice, he was greeted with glares, silence, and sometimes booing. He learned that they wanted “Little Caesar”, not Edward G. Robinson. He wrote out a script, memorized it, and the crowd went wild for his performance. “This is the kid himself talking – Little Caesar. Remember? You’d better remember, because anybody who don’t will find himself at the bottom of the East River with his feet in a cake of cement! I ain’t kidding, neither.” He didn’t like it, for all he really wanted to do was thank them for risking their necks. When it was time to close his skit, he ended with his true sentiment:
“I know a little bit about gangsters. I’ve played many of them. Remember how Little Caesar wound up? In the gutter with a bellyful of lead. That’s how all the Little Caesars are going to end up in this picture that’s being shot all over the world. Says who? Says you. This is the most privileged moment of my life, the opportunity to be here with you. I have seen the men who are defeating Hitler. I thank you, gentlemen, from the bottom of my heart.”
Be sure to check out Hot Toasty Rag's page honoring Edward G. Robinson's movies here!