The minute I opened my mouth then they’d say, “Oh, you’re Irish.” Suddenly I’m labeled. I wasn’t a human being. In Ireland I was just a low-class type, but here I’m a low-class Irish type, an Irish low-class type. So I didn’t know. Somehow I had to deal with that. “Oh, you’re Irish.” And at that time, that was 1949, there was still some kind of a lingering residue of prejudice against the Irish. People used to tell me, all the people, up and down New England (I’m in New York) there would be signs saying, “No Irish need apply.” And even the Irish-Americans would listen to me and they’d patronize me. I was a bit simple as if I had just come off a farm. And I knew better than that. I knew I was better than that. Irish-Americans who were running elevators and working as porters, they were looking down on me, and I knew then that I was again at the bottom of the heap.