ByLANA MELMAN

JUNE 6, 2026 16:00

In a recent Zoom discussion, I chatted with actor and television host Jerry O'Connell. He connected from Mort's, a deli in the San Fernando Valley, creating an ideal spot for exploring topics tied to the Jewish community.

O'Connell rose to fame young through his role as Vern in the beloved movie Stand by Me. His path has shown flexibility, allowing him to evolve, remain current, and appear in fresh formats over time.

Across many years, he has shifted smoothly among movies and TV, serious parts and lighter ones, with standout performances in Jerry Maguire, Scream 2, and the family comedy Kangaroo Jack before becoming a familiar face hosting The Talk on CBS.

I had heard Jerry was known as a reliable pro and pleasant person. My husband, Jeff Melman, once directed him alongside Jim Belushi in an episode of The Defenders, a show about lawyers navigating wild Las Vegas. The idea suited their comedic skills, yet it ended after one season, as often happens in entertainment.

What surprised me was his readiness to speak out as a supporter of Israel and Jews everywhere, especially now when many stay quiet. A clip from an ADL gathering, where he noted that Jewish people have supported him and his family always and now it is his turn to stand with them, revealed this side.

His link to Israel traces back to a close high school buddy, Tommy Gutman, and Tommy's mother from Israel.

She treated us with such warmth and humor. I really enjoyed her company

Tommy's mother kept a stocked fridge and a relaxed vibe. She mixed English phrases with Hebrew structure, saying things like close the light rather than turn off the light, which amused the teens greatly. My God, she treated us with such warmth and humor. I really enjoyed her company.

Still, three key figures stand out as major Jewish influences. They include the late director Rob Reiner, who launched his career in Stand by Me and urged him to stay authentic; his long-time manager Michael Rotenberg, who has steered his work; and his godfather, Uncle Bill Silverstein, a World War II veteran.

Uncle Bill's tales as a former prisoner of war left a strong mark, Jerry notes.

Bill served in the US Air Force and was shot down. He shared stories with my younger brother and me about his time as a prisoner in Germany. The scariest part for him was being found out as Jewish.

I could not imagine living with that fear. As a boy, I told myself that if I ever saw antisemitism like that again, I would act. I would join up and fight.

I was nine when I first learned of the Holocaust, and it felt like it altered something deep inside. For a long time, like Jerry, I imagined ways I might have helped others if I had been there then.

A showing at the Simon Wiesenthal Center of the Israeli film October 7: Bearing Witness to the Massacre, made from raw IDF footage of the attack, brought back that early promise.

My Hollywood mentor, manager Michael Rotenberg, whose parents survived the Holocaust, invited me along. I said no at first because I did not want to watch it. I felt unable to handle it. But he preferred not to attend alone, so I joined him.

After the film, I realized I was seeing another Holocaust, with antisemitism rising worldwide once more.

And I must say it returned that childhood sense. That anger. That vow: if something like this happens again, I will take action.

For O'Connell, action means appearing in any helpful way. Doing interviews, speaking out, and adding his name to statements. I know opinions differ in Hollywood, but I avoid arguments. I simply support my Jewish friends. Failing to do so would leave me embarrassed around them.

He receives many thankful notes online, yet also sharp personal comments, which he overlooks. No one says it directly to me. I pay no attention. I do not believe arguing helps. I focus on what I can manage: my own choices.

I agree with his choice to skip the harsh words. It seems unfair to expect entertainment figures to master every detail about Israel and argue constantly.

Social media overflows with false claims against the Jewish state. Much like the arcade game Whack-a-Mole, knocking down one falsehood only brings another. The real good deed, especially for those whose work relies on public favor, is holding firm to beliefs.

I asked what first drew him to acting.

He sees himself as the sort of kid often scolded for speaking out of turn, blurting comments, and acting as the class clown.

I landed on a film set for Stand by Me at age 11, he says, and soon saw that this behavior was not just permitted but welcomed.

Thus an acting path was not some big scheme or result of a pushy stage parent. It was a sudden realization that his natural self fit a new setting. I was simply good at it. I had not excelled at much before then.

This offers advice to parents, he tells me. If you have a child who was once called hyperactive, I hope that term does not offend, but a kid full of extra energy, think about the entertainment field.

Jerry shows a likable, modest wit and a knack for drawing viewers into his playful side. Hollywood seeks attractive faces. Attractive people who act well are rare finds. Attractive, amusing people who act well are even rarer.

Comedy demands more skill than drama. It needs precise timing, rhythm, and grasp of misdirection that few possess. How did he gain these qualities?

Spending time with amusing people sharpens your own humor, he says. I keep company with those who make me laugh. Each morning I get coffee with Howie Mandel and comedy writer Mark Blutman. We skip serious topics and keep joking about them. The aim is not to score points in debate. The aim is to get everyone at the table laughing.

O'Connell moved from being the target of jokes in Stand by Me to a handsome teen lead at 15 in the comedy series My Secret Identity. It follows a teen with glitchy superpowers, such as floating like a balloon without true flight, so he uses spray cans to move ahead.

It was a modest, lower-budget TV show in the United States, he explains. It aired in syndication on local stations, not as a network program or major success.

We have not visited Israel yet, and that will change someday, but it must have been popular there, because for a couple of years I could not walk down the street without an Israeli tourist or local stopping me to say you were in My Secret Identity.

A bit later came another series, Sliders, on Fox, where Jerry leads a group traveling across parallel worlds.

I am rarely recognized for it by most people, unless they are Israeli. Then I hear about it constantly. It is the oddest thing.

It remains a puzzle he would like solved. A bit shy, he says he hopes this interview draws comments from Israelis to clarify if it was a hit there. I am eager to learn this. So if you are an Israeli fan of either show, now is your chance to share.

For the past 18 years, Jerry has been wed to actress and model Rebecca Romijn, who gained wide notice from her Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue appearance in 1999.

As an actress, Rebecca is best known for playing Mystique, the blue-skinned, yellow-eyed shape-shifter in the first three X-Men films, and Commander Una Chin-Riley, Captain Pike's second-in-command, in Star Trek: Strange New Worlds.

They reside in Calabasas, a favored area for entertainment professionals.

During our talk, Jerry mentions his favorite valley spots. Mort's Deli in Tarzana serves great food, he says, and there is a coffee spot called Calabasas Coffee House that offers the best challah bread on Fridays.

How has it been raising their lovely twin daughters, Charlie and Dolly, amid Hollywood life?

They are good kids. I think I will keep them. He admits to being quite loud on the sidelines at their high school volleyball matches. I cheer them on. No criticism, only support. Yet the real task, he notes, is raising children with advantages. We want them to keep their ambition and value people.

They use social media, where much anti-Jewish sentiment appears. You cannot protect them fully. They must learn to handle it and stand up for themselves.

Still, Rebecca and Jerry have ensured the girls know about the Holocaust. We are lucky to be in Los Angeles, with the Wiesenthal Center nearby. I took them there when they were small. Their school has arranged visits a few times.

Living in Los Angeles, the family is surrounded by the Jewish community, friends, temples, and Seders, so the children understand the history.

Not surprisingly, with so many Jewish friends, O'Connell has attended many Passovers, including one with a mariachi band performing the Four Questions, and brings his whole family. Mariachis are new to me, but this is Hollywood after all.

The welcome feels good. My family feels fully included. Sometimes even more so as guests. And I love brisket. But I worry about those without such exposure, he says. That is where lack of knowledge begins.

I asked if he has taken on any Jewish customs or principles. Getting his teenage girls to share family dinners proves tough, he says. I admire my Jewish friends who gather every Friday night. I wish we had that routine. We do not mark Shabbat in a formal way, but we do enjoy challah each weekend.

His daughters are now applying to colleges, and there are some he would hesitate to send them to, based on responses since October 7. He is taken aback by how certain schools have dealt with events.

I am not surprised. Universities started removing Jews in Germany during the 1930s, roughly a decade before the Nazis carried out the planned destruction of Jewish people in the Final Solution. From 1933 onward, laws required firing Jewish teachers and limited student spots, ending with total exclusion from higher education by 1938.

Few people, including Jews outside Israel, know how involved German universities were in the Holocaust.

Holocaust teaching often focuses on camp horrors, yet it should also cover the wider conditions in German society that allowed those acts. Looking at how institutions targeted Jews and made exclusion normal before the camps existed highlights troubling similarities today.

O'Connell feels rightly proud of New York University, where he studied film and screenwriting from 1991 to 1994, due to steps it took against antisemitism on campus.

After settling a federal case, NYU revised its rules to name anti-Zionism as a type of harassment and created the Center for the Study of Antisemitism. It also added required training for students, named a Title VI coordinator, and stated that calling someone a Zionist as an insult breaks its conduct policies.

He is surprised by how much his public stance has mattered to the Jewish community.