I was actually outside the I.J. Morris funeral home on Church Avenue in Brownsville during their funeral in 1953--among thousands who gathered there. It was the biggest thing that happened in that neighborhood. Probably half the people in the crowd were FBI agents, taking photos and making notes. I'm probably on file with them as an "ultra-junior Commie."
Ntra la porta tua lu sangu � sparsu, E nun me mporta si ce muoru accisu... E s'iddu muoru e vaju mparadisu Si nun ce truovo a ttia, mancu ce trasu.
