I had fought against the unjust restriction of immigration.

I had taken on the color of the climate around me and had driven back all the emotion that rose from the Brooklyn streets so that I could belong to the exclusive club of Congress.

I didn't know then that I would never be able to leave the sounds and smells of these sights behind me, but I was fiercely conscious of one thing-my ambition.

My grandfather, in 1848, had fled from Germany to find political freedom in the United States.

I had fought against the unjust restriction of immigration.

The panic of the Depression loosened my inhibitions against being different. I could be myself.

Illegality will never solve the problem of political lawlessness.